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[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | I'm not a hero, I'm a man with a job. have a specific set of skills. When a DM wants to get rid of a character but declines to use the plethora of tools at their disposal, they message me. Generally, I like more than one session to handle these kinds of issues, but I took this job as a personal favor.
The party of four that I joined was several levels into the 3.5 adventure module, "Red Hand of Doom", and after a few minutes of playing, I immediately saw the problem.
"I would like to seduce Trellara Nightshadow." Primus, the paladin, announced to the party.
This was met with a plethora of groans from the other party members on the Discord server.
"Make the roll I guess." Trevor, the DM, said in a resigned voice.
A few clicks of a keyboard and a triumph exclamation from Primus' player, Scott, later began the most uncomfortable roleplaying session I've ever had the pleasure to sit in on.
Now, before most DMs bring me on I ask them if they've done the adult thing and spoken with the problem player first. Most of the time this solves the problem, but in this case, Scott was the worst kind of D&D player, he was *That Guy*. While *That Guy* can come in many shapes and forms, they can be highlighted by their complete disregard for the fun and enjoyment of everyone else. And Scott, well he was the worst I had ever seen. I won't insult you by describing what followed his successful Diplomacy check against the innocent elf NPC, Trellara Nightshadow, but suffice it to say that it would make the average person either blush or cringe in physical pain.
It was at this point that I knew that Primus had to go. While my character was only about level 6, Gorbash Ironhorn was built specifically to take down characters like this. I know enough about 3.5 to sculpt a character for just such an occasion. The first thing you need to know about my good friend Gorbash is that his base class is Monk. At level 6, Monks have the ability to make a "flurry of blows" which allows them one more attack each round than what they would normally get, but with less accuracy. But Gorbash wasn't your usual human or elf Monk, he was a minotaur, and this gave him a nice +8 bonus to strength. The cherry on top of it all was the template that the DM allowed me. Gorbash, you see, was a vampire, something that the paladin should have known if he wasn't so busy trying to fuck every female NPC from Drellyin's Ferry to Brindol. Having the vampire template gave Gorbash's unarmed strikes the ability to bestow 2 negative levels per hit, and with the Monk's 'FLurry of Blows" ability Gorbash could take away 4 levels from a target per round.
So I bided my time, as the DM had informed me that they would be facing off against the Ghostlord, a druid turned lich, who had sworn allegiance to the main villain. I won't bore you with details of the fight, but I will let you know that we won by the slightest of margins. Primus took his place about the Ghostlord's corpse and began to speak about not only his own glories but about how many fair maidens he would need to satiate his lust after defeating such a fierce enemy.
He never saw my vampire minotaur Monk coming.
There is nothing like the strangled cries of a player when you announce:
"I would like to walk up behind Primus and attack him with 'Flurry of Blows.'"
"Roll to hit," Trevor said I could feel the smile in his voice.
"23 and 25"
"And damage?"
I rattled off the total and reminded Trevor that negative levels reduce the maximum HP of a creature by a hit die per level. I logged off before I could hear Scott react to the death of his paladin, but my job was done. I'm not a hero, you see, I am a Character Assassin.
| Assassin, interesting.
I'm more a Ranger with a beast master sub role myself, but I think I can destroy Jake with my eyes closed.
So let's get down to business. I'll get my trusty partner of crime. Numerous hours of endless DnD story lines and side quests, how could I leave my sacred buddy?
Jake, the Paladin (such a trash class). Exclaimed, "I rolled a max 20, so Karen you have to be my slave for the next 20 turns and 5 more turns when I roll a 5 or more!"
​
"Jake what the fuck. Stop with these ridiculous spells. We are in middle of fighting goblins."
​
Karen looks at the DM, John, but he skims a page in the DnD rule book and shook his head. "Sorry Karen, it says right here Vol XIV Ch. 58 sub article 3&a, that Paladins can have secret spells if they're level 18."
​
Karen does a frustrated sigh, then responds, "Fine. Jake heal me. I'm low on health."
​
"Sorry can't do. Gotta save my spell slots so I can tell you what to do on my next turn."
​
A little bit interested of what Jake is going to do with Karen's half fox/half dinosaur character, I had to remind myself to step in before I won't be able to stop him. I roll a 19, so I get to summon my best pet. "Rex, steal all of Jake's equipment and render him useless with your morning screams!"
​
Rex is my pet chicken. He use to be weak and had to be necromancied every 5 turns, but now he is a force to be reckon with. Rex learned strange abilities due to my infatuation of trying to find the best build for him. Years of research and experience went into growing him to be the ultimate farm fighting machine.
​
Jake looks at me for a second and turns straight to John. "JOHN YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. HE IS A DROP IN. WITH A PET CHICKEN THAT HAS INSANE ABILITIES."
​
John turns the pages in the rule book and points it for everyone to see that it is possible for characters to have insanely powered pets if you follow the strict guidelines and prove it with the App.
​
I tell the Paladin, "Sorry Jake, you look like a fun target." So I ordered Rex to put John in a spell that he can't speak if he doesn't say "Puk Puk Pukaaak" in between every few words.
​
Jake tries to refute, but the DM refuses to hear anything from him because rules are rules.
​ | 2019-01-21T19:02:54 | 2019-01-21T17:26:13 | 3,332 | 244 |
[WP] “Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me. It’s not your fault.” He spoke with a gentle tone but he was pissed, not at the hero, but at the gods who send kids and teens to fight him. | The man's eyes were a gentle blue as he looked at the six or so children arrayed before him. They were all decked out in the finest armor, all matching pieces, breastplates gleaming from a mixture of the setting sun and the enchantments and blessings stacked upon them. Even as they watched, he seemed to look past them, at the mountains in the distance and the sky near the horizon and the trees all around them. His gentle demeanour faded, his eyes brightening to an electric hue as his smile dropped. He walked forwards, straight past the kids and their half-hearted attempt to still surround him even after he'd turned their weapons to ash. His breaths were coming out quicker, one clenched fist by his side being the only indicator of what was going through his mind.
"You did so well," he said again. "But they should have at least given you a chance. They probably lured you in with the whole 'Pure hearts defeat the oldest and darkest of magic' song and dance, but they know.... They know that I wield powers APART from the ancient magics, they could have at least equipped you for THAT! What do they expect you to do, shrug off meteors? Withstand upheavals of the earth that have literally ended civilizations?? WHAT MORE CAN YOU ASK OF THEM?!"
This last question was not asked to the scattering of 'heroes' cowering behind him, but roared towards the heavens and the horizon.
"You gods who can manipulate time and sunder the mountains! You, who can choke the skies and boil oceans! You see me, a threat, and deem that simply because I tread on soil that I am beneath you! Oh, but of course you OH SO GRACIOUSLY offer to help the 'mere mortals' with 'their problem', because you are all kind and generous gods!"
The man was visibly trembling now, wild magical energies no longer able to be contained as winds whipped his hair around. Sensing their parts had ended, the heroes began backing away, not wanting to be caught up in whatever was to happen. Lightning seemed to burst from the ground, swirling around him but never striking him, almost as if dancing around his body. His eyes narrowed and his breathing steadied as he gazed out towards the horizon, a lone mountain ascending up until its peak was lost far up in the clouds. His lip curled up in a snarl as he kept talking, eyes unblinking, his voice deathly quiet yet still perfectly clear despite the crackling energy around him.
"You demand so much of humans, yet constantly ask for more. Sacrifices and offerings and rituals are all done to appease you, to ask for your protection from calamities like me. And calamities like you. And yet, when the need arises, you STILL demand more of them, instead of getting off your over-complacent rears and handling it yourself. You send mere CHILDREN into battle as your champions! Ones too young to have felt a lover's touch, too young to have children of their own to carry on their name! And their parents have to pretend like it's a great honor for them to be chosen, knowing full well that the light of their lives may be extinguished forever, even on the rare chance that they DO succeed!"
The swirling magic around him reached its crescendo. Reaching a hand out towards the mountain, a crackling bolt of energy shot out of his hand, streaking towards the horizon. The earth beneath it cracked and split, a giant fissure appearing as magma bubbled and burst from it. Bolts of lighting arced across the sky, as if reacting to the energy yet pailing in comparison to it. Pure rage was etched onto his face, bursts of heat, light, and sound emanating from him, yet his words were perfectly audible as the bolt neared its target, wreaking destruction in its wake.
"Just as you did to my son six thousand years ago..."
Edit: Formatting | The little boy sobbed, and swinged his knife wildly, blind to its movements as his eyes were too puffed from crying. He was beyond terrified, a puddle of piss started leaking from his pants, he knew it was supposed to be his destiny to be here, as the spirits told him to go there and face the great evil that terrorised the land, alone without help. Only that when he finally found that evil, he couldn't help and be scared. He was sure he'd die.
The thing that stood before him resembled a human only with distinct animal features such as huge bull horns, big eyes that stared deeply into his soul along with a scorpion tail. The boy saw a monster and heard the tales of destruction that this this did and couldn't help but be frightned.
Yet the creature when the creature looked at him, it did not have any malice, only pity. The spirits that were out to destory him sent a little boy, no older then 8 to kill him? He was confused and furious but he did not want to scare the boy.
He slowly started to approach doing his best to calm the boy down: "I am not going to hurt you, little one, you did so well coming here, it must've been dangerous coming all the way here." He stopped walking and eyed the boy down. Even though it was clear he was still afraid, it was easy to see his body relax and his eyes started to fill with pride. Even a creature scary and monsterus like that could recognize his strengh, he thought to himself.
"Yet the spirits shouldn't have sent you here, even by their standards, its insanity sending a child alone here" the creature gestured at the wasteland around him, faraway from any city and filled with monsters that are willing to grab a little boy for a snack" something about the way he said it, with such warmth and care, caused the boy to feel safe and secure, even in that terrible place.
When the creature was only a meter away from the boy, he touched the boy's cheek and wiped a tear: "Don't worry little one, you won't have to-" as he began comforting the boy again, he felt something dig its way into his internal organs. The knife. As he began writhing in pain and screaming, the boy fell to the ground like a ragdoll, and wiped blood from his cheek, as the creature managed to scartch him as a last resort, and witnessef its death. Once he was sure it was dead, he got up, shaking and started walking back, where he came from, fullfillong his destiny. | 2019-07-26T07:50:12 | 2019-07-26T07:04:46 | 40 | 30 |
[WP] When first contact is made with an alien civilization, we find that humanity is not viewed with disgust or indifference, but reverence. This bodes well for intergalactic relations until we discover why... | 1.
Sparkulon was the man to meet the aliens when they arrived in the year 2226. Voted leader of Earth, he was the voice of mankind’s purpose and plans. Loved for his unifying speeches and even his feats of strength, the people had eager hope that he would be the one to bring forth an alliance with the outsiders. He certainly had the noble look of a modern king, his sharp teal uniform glistened gold edges, the wide breasts of his jacket pronouncing his large chest. The ornate golden insignia on his shoulders much reflected his confident stance and charismatic smile.
People will never forget the day he stepped onto their massive ship. The selfishness will never be forgiven, but it was Sparkulons stumble that they will always talk about. The moment he lost his balance and fell down to his hands and knees.
The aliens had translators that mimicked human language, Sparkulon was met with their first words. He couldn’t tell which of the slug like creatures was speaking, the sound came out of the walls of the ship.
“Hello. Your planet is impressive.”
Sparkulon smiled and bowed.
“Earth welcomes you. I am Lazerus Sparkulon, king and overseer.”
“We are the Chunthu’s, messengers to the galactic alliance. We search for sentient life in the universe, and bring civilizations with intelligence the prospect of joining us in peace. We have scanned your planet and seen the advanced architecture, the robust healthcare system, and the most respectable piece of science, your force shield that protects your planet. We have respect for your cultures, and wish to welcome you to discuss terms of friendship.”
A door to a long hallway opened behind the Chunthu’s. Sparkulon waved his guards at ease and followed the slugs to a room that had a large bubble window on the far wall. One of them signalled at the window with his skinny three jointed arm. Sparkulon peered out into space.
The walls spoke, “A gift for you.”
A needle pushed into Sparkulons leg.
“What… What is this?”
Then he was flying, fast. Blurs of whites and blues and greens rushed passed his vision. He could feel the momentum and it was speeding up and up. Suddenly he would stop, see another world from orbit, before shifting his eyes in another direction and moving again as fast as the speed of light. He felt euphoric, his chest heaved in and out taking deep breaths, his legs shook and he laughed. He experienced this for an hour before the effects subsided. When he awoke from it, he was left feeling drained.
“More…” He grovelled before the slugs.
“There is more to be had Lazerus, perhaps we could exchange. Lower the force shields protecting your planet, and we will give you more of the substance than you could ever ask for.”
Sparkulon nodded his head with force, a maniacal smile on his face.
2.
Tordago was seventy nine years old, although his body didn’t show his age as much as his grey hair. A short, stocky man who in his youth had been an olympic boxer. He was caretaker to the operations beacon that controlled the force shield.
The look of desperation on Sparkulon’s face when he came to the door of the beacon was the first red flag that went up in Tordagos mind.
“Tordago, disable all shield reactors.”
“It would take hours to get them all back online. For what reason would we want to shut down the planet’s defence system?”
“I am the king, that is the reason!” Sparkulon shouted.
“Protocol says you need to give notice to the space fleet first. I haven’t heard a word over the radio of any such notification.”
“You puny bureaucrat, I am overseer to this planet and I have been given the right to disarm this beacon.”
Sparkulon drew a blaster from his hip.
Tordago was leaning against a computer desk, his arms resting behind him. He reached around and found a paper weight. Ducking down as fast as he could, he tossed the paperweight at Sparkulons stomach. The few seconds of confusion was all Tordago needed to be on top of him. Then he was raining down punches, putting all of his weight into his old muscles to pound the life out of him.
3.
Tordago reported the encounter with Sparkulon to space fleet. It was found during an autopsy that a foreign agent had entered his blood system. Video logs showed the erratic behavior of Sparkulon before his death. When asked if they knew anything about the substance, the Chunthu’s explained the situation as a reaction to the atmosphere in their ships.
The counsel of Earth left ruling in Sparkulons absence decided to cut off communication with the aliens until they could conclude that they could be trusted. The Chunthu’s responded by attempting to blast holes in the Earths force shield. Their battery cannons did nothing. Finally, after years of attempting to break through the shield, the Chunthu’s lost interest. The shield was withstanding everything they threw at it with no signs of relinquishing.
Earth was safe for now, but it was obvious that preparation was needed incase of a larger scale attack. The people built great star fleets and weapons technology, instilling a sense of readiness in themselves. If the Chunthu returned, the planet would tear them to pieces.
| "C'mon kid, don't be stupid. You'll get yourself killed." I told him as I pleaded for his life. "I have to try something. These fuckers don't care about us, and I'd rather die fighting that live here any longer. If they're so fucked up, why won't you just tell me how you ended up here? Why are we here?" "Fine. I'll tell you if you promise to stay safe."
"It was all over the news. I remember it as if it was yesterday. Oddly enough, it happened exactly how we all had imagined it would. They were calling it "the beginning of the rest of humanity". We had finally reached the pinnacle, the "last frontier" so to speak. That part didn't go as planned though. When the green men climbed out of their steel vessel that flew down from the sky, they landed right outside of the White House. They must have been watching us for a while to know who our leader was, and where he could be found.
President Cooper had always been an odd fellow, as he accepted their presence almost immediately, almost as if he were expecting it. He walked right up into that ship, and everyone thought that was the last we would see of him. Even vice president Kimmel started making preparations of war in the event that Cooper was dead. But he eventually came out. When he did, an immediate address was made to the people. He announced that these aliens were here to meet us under pure diplomacy. Apparently they couldn't wait to start interplanetary trade with Earth, and that they were huge admirers of "our bravery" as it was said verbatim according to Cooper. The entire situation just had a weird feeling to it. One day everything was as usual, the next day we were trading with aliens from another planet. It all happened so fast. Maybe that was the plan, catch us off guard or something. But things were good after that.
We entered a golden age in less than a year. All of the exhausted resources that Earth had forgotten about (petroleum, helium, etc.) were sold dirt cheap in the intergalactic market. Apparently Lead is super rare and super valuable, and we had a lot of it. We were making mountains of money. But of course that never lasts. You see, these aliens, they often talked about "The Black" referring to them as the bad guys of the galaxy, and oddly enough they spoke about them as if we already knew who they were. And that's when everything changed. Well, nothing at all changed really, but we learned that things weren't as they seem. Apparently The Black owns a very large portion of the galaxy. Like a HUGE part of it. Something like 96%. Well oddly enough, even though we had never seen a single alien before that day, The Black apparently owned Earth.
Now see, back in the old days, Earth used to have these enormous satellite dishes that received radio transmissions from outer space. A lot of what we had picked up was assumed to be background noise from the supermassive black hole in the center of the galaxy. Well that's not entirely true. They were coming from the black hole, but it wasn't background noise. They were eviction notices. 10,000 years overdue. And The Black was VERY angry with us. These green men, they looked up to us because they thought we were standing up to The Black. They thought that maybe we knew how to defeat them, and that's why we're been ignoring their warning shots for the last ten millennia. But we didn't. We still don't.
Inevitably, war followed. Billions died. The whole thing is long over now. After that, they packed up all the survivors and enslaved us on some enormous ship and that's where we are now. I'm telling you this in hopes that you'll listen to me. The Black is bad news, kid. They kill anyone and everyone who isn't useful to them, and they are indestructible as far as the rest of humanity knows. Just accept slavery, and give up. I'm sorry, but it's just the way things are." | 2017-08-28T14:42:01 | 2017-08-28T10:16:32 | 53 | 18 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | I thought I'd finally found a way to stop fucking things up.
Well, it looks like I fucked that up too.
"Uh... hey! Hey, anyone! Can you give me a hand?!" Silence. "Hey! Somebody help me!!" Still nothing. Looks like I'll be enjoying the sound of swinging on a rope - by my head - until someone nearby comes home from work. Unless...
Though I'd bound my hands behind me, maybe there was a way to get my phone out. I fished around for a few minutes until I got it out. I managed to hit speed dial at random and press **Call** before I fucked things up and dropped it - I prayed to whatever god that it wasn't-
"Hello?"
Shit. It was.
"Uhh... hehe, heyyyy, Karen. What's new?"
"The fuck do you think you doin', callin' me right after we broke up?! I told you, we're done! I never wanna hear from you again, you blundering fuckwad!"
"Wait, Karen, don't hang up!!" More silence. "Uh... Karen?"
"...What do you want?" Good. She hadn't hung up.
"I seem to have gotten myself stuck somehow. Could you, uh, come help me out?"
"Mother of- what the hell were you jacking off into this time?!?" My faced flushed with embarrassment.
"That was *one time*! Look, this is serious. Could you just come back and help me out here? I'm in a pretty bad bind." That's true - my bindings were already loosening.
"Fine, but if you're fucking with me, I'm calling the cops."
Twenty achingly-long minutes later, a key turns in the lock and Karen waltzed in. "Good thing I didn't throw this out when - HOLY SHIT. What the fuck, man?" I cursed myself for not putting on pants before I put on the noose. "I told you if you're fucking with me-"
"I swear, this is serious!!"
"...shit, man. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I... I'm not that good at communicating well."
"Damn right. Listen, lemme see if I can get you down. It's the least I can do."
"Thanks, Karen, I-"
"No really, it's the bare minimum. As soon as you're down, I'm out."
I sighed as she fished through the kitchen for a knife. "What's taking so long?" Karen walked out mumbling, with a kinfe in her hand and a slice of cake in her mouth. Geez, what did I see in her? "Just get me down." She pulled up the chair I knocked over and climbed up, crumbs falling in my eyes. "Hey, watch it?" She glared at me with a look that said *shut up, or I'll shut you up myself.* I shut up.
A few minutes later, she cut through the rope. I fell to the floor, knocking against the stool and hitting the ground *hard*. Groaning, I looked up to see Karen teetering on the tilting stool. Where'd the knife go- aw, shit.
With a thud, the knife slid its way in me, nestled snugly in my chest. FUCK, that hurt. I screamed. Karen fell, looked up, and then screamed at me. This went on for a bit, until...
"Hey, why the fuck aren't you dead yet?"
"Fuck you!" I yelled.
"No, seriously. You're barely even bleeding."
I looked down at my torn, bloodied shirt. Er... my torn shirt. "What the fuck, you're right. How did you - WAIT, GO CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE, YOU FUCKWAD!!"
"Ah, right!! Er..." Karen fumbled her phone and landed on me, driving the blade in deeper. I screamed and pushed her off, blacking out.
---------------------------
I came to in a hospital bed. Karen was nowhere to be seen; instead, a serious-looking man in a suit sat next to me.
"Welcome back, Agent Carlisle."
"What the- Agent? What are you-"
"Calm down, sir. You've just had an accident, remember?"
I looked down at my smooth, stab-wound-free chest. Clearly, that was a lie. Then why did I remember-
"You have an ability the government wants. Somehow, you just survived both a hanging and a kitchen knife to the heart. If you want my opinion, I think you might somehow be immortal. If I'm right - and I usually am - you may have a future working for the C.I.A."
"But- what? Why? I'm the least talented guy I've ever met."
"That is true. But that's the beauty of it, Agent Carlisle!" He leaned in close. "Imagine how much havoc you'd wreak on a terrorist organization as you rise through the ranks. Imagine starting riots as a foreign diplomat. Imagine getting caught by spies and being immune to harm. Imagine -" He leaned back, " imagine being the world's greatest saboteur."
I pondered that. It did sound pretty good. "What are my options? What if I don't want to?"
The man smiled. "Well, your other options is to spend the rest of your natural life being tested in a lab. Judging by your injuries, that'll probably be *very* long time."
Two hours later, I was on a plane headed to an undisclosed training camp, ready to *fuck shit up*.
--------------------------------------------------
"Swing and a Miss"
Daily Short Story 006/100
| Gasping and thrashing, the tight noose choked him. The more he moved, the more his neck went red raw and burnt; the more it burnt, the more he thrashed. It went on, and on, until he finally found the appealing sway he was hoping for, back and forth along the bottom floor of his house, the rope attached to the curving balcony above.
In his mind, he swore. Beneath him Mr. Squiggles the brown-and-white ragdoll stared up at him with wide blue eyes and meowed constantly. He was hungry. He was always hungry. It would just be another thing to do, he supposed, if he could get down.
Thankfully he wasn't completely stupid. Hanging, his neck too strong or his luck too great, that flicker of hope as he jumped seemed to have kept him alive. In his ears blared the music from his phone, the last sweet reminder of life he loved...now, turned, to Blurred Lines. He shivered and jerked again, only serving to send pulsations of pain spreading through his body.
God's bollocks, how did that dreadful song get in here?
If only to live to shut it off, he would do just that. Prodding his fingers through the noose, a barrier between rope and burning red flesh he flexed and flailed his other hand to his phone. The first grope served to pull at his shirt, the second his belt, the other a wave at the door watching him in his struggle, Mr. Squiggles below now leaping to attack his feet and missing by a few feet, yet not disturbed by the task at hand; his master had become a toy.
Finally he managed it. Grabbing the headphones and pulling them out, one yank, two yanks and a final third, successful one pulled it into his slowly dulling finger's grasp, the blood draining from them and into his head. With that task complete, he turned off the dreadful song and took a moment to...do something, anything.
I saw the blinding light. I'm not dead. Is it that I am immortal, am I lucky, am I cursed to drop from here and let that fat-pawed creature eat me?
As it turned out, he was immortal. He went to look at his phone as best he could and his head jerked to one side, lopsided, his spine dreadfully broken. The man sighed. It was a terrible day.
Mother would be a terrible idea to phone. What would she say, "You fool! You idiot! You could have landed on the cat! At least do it from a tree in the park, or from a bridge; you'll probably get a park or the bridge named after you then!"
No, not her. His father? Most likely drinking. His brother, who always thought that suicide was fascinating? No, no, he'd probably have him go to hospital to check out his neck that, oddly, began to lose its sense of pain. It would have to be Jim.
Fumbling his way through the short-list of phone contacts, he pressed Jim's name and squirmed to raise it to his tomato-coloured ears.
"Hey bud!" the friendly voice spoke. "You alright? Heard you were all depressed and I was on my way over. You're not doing something weird, are you?"
How could a jelly-necked immortal respond to that? It was a terrible joke that sprung to mind but, as he was so proud of his dad-jokes and terrible dad-dancing, he replied as his mind knew best; "Oh, just...haaarghg-ing around! Oh, b-hiiighghght-t my tongue. C-come...around!"
"On the way already, bud. Hold on. I'll bring a couple drinks over to make you feel better."
"Th-aaarghgnk-kuh you!" and paused, squinting somewhat. "Some ice too, a big bag of it."
"See you soon!"
Have you ever seen the face of someone who finds out not only you hung yourself but survived it, broke your neck, and found out you was immortal? Jim shrieked like a girl and slammed the door shut, took two steps forwards and promptly passed out, banging his head onto the radiator by the wall.
"Ji-hrrhghgnh-m! Oh...b-balls...b-better...call John..." | 2015-01-12T10:06:35 | 2015-01-12T08:30:21 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] You find yourself in a world of darkness, drowning in rough seas. You spot tiny island and swim there. There's a decrepit old house. Inside are 3 terrifying creatures but they mean you no harm. They cannot communicate. They take care of you. They are your family now. You feel utterly alone | Two weeks since I pulled myself from the ocean. Or at least I think it's been that long. I'm not even sure where I am or the time of day. There are no windows in this house. Or shack, if I really think about it. Despite it's decaying state, no light gets in or out. Just a constant fire. I get fish at seemingly random times. Guess that is all there is to eat here. I didn't see much when I landed but occasionally when they open the door I hear birds. I tried to walk out once, but they just yelled and kicked at me. Nearly hit my broken leg. I do not understand what is going on and I am getting more irritated.
They? Three of them. Beasts at best. Bipedal, large, almost naked, and dumb as a box of rocks. Guttural cadences followed by screeching seems to be their only way of communicating with one another. And of course they have no idea what I am saying. Our talks are just yelling matches with nobody knowing what the other wants. Out of the three, the two larger ones seem more apprehensive to help me. Granting me the occasional bit off food or water, but always keeping an weary eye in my direction.
I haven't done anything to hurt them, I just stumbled in looking for help. I can barely walk without stumbling, but they look like I am about to snap and maim them at any moment. I don't even eat much yet they treat me like a burden. It's irritating. As if I could look pretty after my ordeal. I survived the ocean! It wasn't a vacation by any means.
At least the little one is a bit nicer. It likes to touch me an awful lot but when I swat at it's hand it pulls away. Not that it learns for the next time, but at least it gives me a bit of space. Three creatures that don't know how to properly interact with someone different. Guess I can't complain, I am alive.
Alive but alone.
Firelight, fish, fake family, and freaking stuck. What a life.
Can't dwell on it though. I will heal and then figure out the escape later. They care for me enough that I won't die here from anything other than bored. Sometimes the little one forgets and leaves the door open for a second, but I am not fast enough yet. Once I am healed I will be ready. I will be free again.
Just the idea of being outside brings up the rumble from inside me. I shake with joy and dig my nails into the floor in front of me. The fire warms my side as I lay down, tail wrapped around my body. Maybe not the perfect place for a nap, but we cats are adaptable.
\-idea from u/BeBa420 \- | English is not my native language, so please forgive some weird punctuation and other mistakes if there is any.
\-----
The water is everywhere. It is pouring from the sky above me and gurgling beneath me as I cling to the log with the last remains of my strength. I don’t remember how long I’ve been drifting like this, it almost looks like this storm has been raging on for the entirety of my life.
Through the darkness, I see a shape. An island. Hope. Life. I don’t have the strength to swim towards it, but luckily the wind blows in its direction and all I have to do is to continue holding the slippery piece of wood. When my log touches the sand on the shore, I feel my arms going limp and the world turns black.
I wake up somewhere in another place and see them. Three creatures. Strange and terrifying. They look a bit similar to me but they are different. Almost bald, flat featureless faces and unnatural posture. I try to run away but there is nowhere to run, I’m surrounded by walls. The creatures stand around me and make strange sounds, but… they don’t attack me.
I live with these creatures now. They are still scary, but as far as I know, they’re harmless. They bring me food and let me walk around their house. One time I ran away and wandered across their island for a few days but there is no one else. I’m stuck here and they are now my only family.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to my community. That young guy is probably the alpha now. I wonder if I ever see another chimpanzee again. | 2019-05-02T07:05:37 | 2019-05-02T06:42:53 | 62 | 11 |
[WP] You have been given magical gifts suitable for fairytale princesses. Whenever you sing, forest creatures gather near; anything you wear turns into a lovely tailored dress; and handsome princes are drawn to you. The problem is, your name is Joe, and you're a 40 year old grizzly biker. | The cottage in the middle of the woods was a fairly standard cottage, assuming your definition of standard included the magical kingdom of Netherearth. Of course, that meant that the house was guarded by a veritable army of birds, flying fairies, deer, magical wards, non-flying fairies and one short dwarf with a beard that dragged along the floor.
Inside, a group of young women were waiting patiently for the final member of their group to arrive. All of them were dressed in various forms of fine garb, from the elegant gowns of English origin to the glittering jewels of the middle-eastern royalty.
They were on their second round of tea when a bear almost crashed into the front porch.
'Sorry I'm late, ladies.' A low voice called out, before a man covered in tatoos and wearing a frilled pink dress walked into the room. 'Had to chase off a prince along the way.'
The group shuddered.
'That's quite alright, Joe.' Agatha said, patting her hand on the seat beside her. 'Come take a seat.'
'Thanks.' Collapsing into the white silk cushions, Joe poured himself a cup of tea, his finger barely able to fit into the teacup's handle before gulping it down in one mouthful.
'Well then, now that everyone is here, we can begin!' Agatha smiled. 'The person we're going to be focusing on today in the Fairytale Princess Support Group is Joe. I'm sure we're all very familiar with Joe, but for those newer to this group, would you mind giving us a small reminder of who you are?'
'Sure. Uh, I'm Joe. I'm turning fourty-two this year, and a fairy godmother got me about three years ago. She was senile, or blind, or was crazy or something. I used to hang out at a lot of biker clubs and I was a mechanic before this all happened.'
A small chorus of 'Hi Joe.' echoed through the room.
'I know you people all have your own stories, but I really feel like this change impacted me the most, you know?' Joe's face crinkled up and his eyes began to water. 'I had my life sorted out before all this, yeah? I had my friends, family, and a stable job and everything. Now everyone just looks at me like it's my fault that I'm wearing pink dresses, lacy stockings, and tall heels when a prince manages to hunt me down. I... I don't know what to do anymore...'
Agatha patted Joe softly on his back as he continued to sob softly.
'It'll be okay...' She turns towards the rest of the princesses in the room. 'As you can see, Joe is currently facing a lot of mental trauma. The fairy godmother in question was one of the oldest in the continent, and was suffering from many typical problems that come with old age, from Alzheimers to magical memory impediment. We attempted to track her down after Joe joined our support group, but she was confirmed dead by the time we could after only two months. As such, the magic performed upon Joe cannot be reversed.'
Agatha frowned. 'Now, the transition for some princesses is already hard, but considering that Joe is a complete polar opposite in all facets of what a fairytale princess is usually, this is possibly the most severe case of fairytale princess that we've ever had. To be frank, those of us close to Joe have already run out of ideas.'
A sniffling Joe managed to raise his voice. 'I... I've tried everything. If it was just the dresses, the heels, the animals, that would be okay. I can deal with that. But that combined with the princes... it's never going to end, is it.'
Agatha hesitated. 'Look, we're all here for you. The princes can't hurt you as long as we all stick together-'
The door burst open, and the dwarf on guard duty crashed through, riding on top of a stag. 'PRINCES! THE PRINCES HAVE FOUND US!'
The occupants of the room looked at each other in horror, before grabbing their weapons.
---
'WHY!'
Boom.
'WON'T.'
Boom.
'YOU PEOPLE.'
Boom.
'LEAVE ME ALONE!'
Boom.
The final prince, a lightly chubby man in full plate armour tried to raise his hand in one last gesture before Joe stabbed right through it with his shoe's heel and blasted his head off with his shotgun.
Joe dropped his gun, collapsed onto the ground, curled up into a ball as the other princesses began to clean their variety of blades and firearms. He barely noticed as Agatha tried to get his attention, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
'Joe, Joe! Are you alright?' She asked, biting her lip. She knew that look, but she could still hope...
'I... I'm done. I'm done. Done. Done.' He muttered, shaking back and forth. 'I... I'm going to the fairy godmother's consulate tomorrow. Gonna ask for a full wipe.'
Agatha shut her eyes. Deep in the back of her mind she knew it was probably inevitable, but she had hoped...
---
The cottage in the middle of the woods was a fairly standard cottage, assuming your definition of standard included the magical kingdom of Netherearth. Of course, that meant that the house was guarded by a veritable army of birds, flying fairies, deer, magical wards, non-flying fairies and one short dwarf with a beard that dragged along the floor.
Inside, a group of young women were waiting patiently for the final member of their group to arrive. All of them were dressed in various forms of fine garb, from the elegant gowns of English origin to the glittering jewels of the middle-eastern royalty.
They were on their second round of tea when a bear almost crashed into the front porch.
'Sorry I'm late, ladies.' A silky voice called out, before a woman covered in tatoos and wearing a frilled pink dress walked into the room. 'Had to chase off a prince along the way.'
The group shuddered.
'That's quite alright, Johanna.' Agatha said, her teeth grit into a smile. She pat her hand on the seat beside her. 'Come take a seat.'
| So my name is Joe and I have a, well a curse. You see, I have powers like a fairy tale princess but I mean ones bearable and kinda helpful I guess. The 3rd one is pretty weird and kinda not good. and finally there is the last one which is super inconvenient. Of course my powers or curses or whatever they are, are singing makes animals come to me, princes are attracted to me and whatever I wear becomes a very girly and nice looking dress.
Now you can probably guess which is which but the fact is that I am a biker. A very hairy and older biker actually. The first two curses don't often effect me it's really just the last one. The dress one.
The only reason I have normal clothes is because under the dresses are short pairs of under pants and a tank top which I make sure I wear a towel over my shirt. People ask about why I have a towel tied to me most of the time but I really just say I don't know.
One day I was a restaurant when I was approached by a really hot brunette woman in a fancy red dress which was pretty surprising because by restaurant I meant McDonald's. She gave me her business card and said "Meet me in front of your apartment door around noon at 6 pm. It is a matter about your curse."
Before I could say anything back the woman was gone and I was really confused. I looked at her blue business card, it read Catherine Bearving and under those words it read Curses and Gifts Explorer.
That night at Six I was in front of my door mainly because the words she stated and her card said intrigued me. "Curses" that was the same way I described what happened to me. I arrived in front of my door at 5:59 and she was already there.
"Well I see you showed up sir" she said to me in a British accent.
"Um hello... uh ... Carry was it?"
"Catherine" she chuckled "Well since you showed up I'm assuming you are wondering why I came to do talk to you, well If you let me in I can explain."
Normally I wouldn't let strangers into my home but she just felt like she knew something I didn't. I let her in and we both sat on my couch in my living room.
"Have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess" she asked me abruptly.
"Huh?"
"I said have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess that could have something to do with your curse."
There it was again the word "curse" she clearly knew something I didn't. I looked back on my childhood before this whole weird curse thing started. "When I was 7 I made fun of girl toys and girly princesses I think" I claimed
"Hmm that could be it, how much did you make fun of them for and did you talk to a girl about how stupid they were or did you just think this."
"Uh... I ... I think I made fun of them for about 3 weeks then I outgrew it and moved on. I think I made fun of a girl though... yeah I did she had these dum toys and these stupid pig tales. I always said those things would be so stupid in real life!"
"THAT MUST BE IT" she shouted " That girl might of put a curse on you if she grew enough of a grudge and became a witch later in life."
"A witch?"
"Yeah a witch."
I was confused on multiple things like why she still was helping me and how she knew all this stuff but that was beside the point. I needed to know how to stop this curse. "So is the curse reversible?"
"Yes" she started " according to your story this would mean to reverse these things you would need to for three weeks be dating a prince, befriend 10 animals and Wear 50 different dresses each for at least 12 hours each."
"WHAT" my mouth was wide I was confused but most importantly reluctant to the idea. But even then I had to if it meant getting out of this curse. The real question was though how I would get a prince to date me. My curse made them attracted to me but I'm pretty sure the rest of the country the prince was from wouldn't like me much.
"So how could I go about all this" I asked
"Glad you asked first we will need to give you a makeover of course since you don't just look like a weirdo guy just wearing girl clothes and trying to date a prince."
As bad as that all sounded I knew it had to be done if I wanted this curse to go away.
Over the next few weeks I trained with Catherine trying to seem like a normal girl so I could get a prince to date me for 3 weeks and I befriended a coupe animals on the way. I never really got to ask many questions to Catherine about why she was helping me or who she was for that matter.
After 3 months I finally had everything done so I broke up with the prince of Sealand and I finally came back home in a normal towel and woman's clothes. "So when will I be normal again" I asked.
Then Catherine's hair did itself up into 2 pigtails and she said "well that all depends. Did you enjoy being a princess yourself Joe?" | 2016-03-25T23:21:24 | 2016-03-25T20:28:55 | 101 | 23 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | As the FDS *Venture* docked with the mining station, the commsystems on its bridge activated with a brief bleep. Soon, the station’s portmaster was on the screen, looking at a common sight and a most unusual one.
”Alright, I’m going to need you to identify yourselves. Name, titles and jobs, species, and matching identification information.”
”I’ll go first,” said the strange creature. ”My name is Eric Stephansson, and I am the second-in-command of this fine vessel. I am also a specialist on precursor cultures, and take care of the ship’s ECM and ECCM in combat situations. I am a human, born in the sol system on the fringes of the Orion Spur, and I am a citizen of the Outer Orion Republic. My identifications should come through in a moment.”
”*A human?*” Thought the portmaster. But he’d ask more later.
”And I am Gohn Drian, captain of this ship. We do all sorts of oddjobs to keep our tanks from going empty. Salvaging, bounty hunting, surveying, anything goes. I am a Koln, born on the currently abandoned planet Kliqa. My identifications should also come in a moment.”
”*Kliqa? I thought that planet had been abandoned since far before my birth? But their identifications do match and I’m more curious about the human.*”
”How did a human get here? I thought it was common knowledge that they were relatively isolated from the rest of the galaxy, with a closed-border policy since... well, ever?”
”See, that’s a complex story. Basicly, they do still send relief fleets for major crisises, like the recent collapse of the Fudun regime. I happened to be assigned to one that hunts pirates. After a few ships blowing up, a few chance encounters, us taking out a pirate warlord, and such, we eventually got in this situation. I won’t bore you, but I am certanly not a political prisoner that has escaped.”
”Alright, well, your IDs seem to be correct, thought I’m seeing a few minor anomalies in the numbers. Well, do whatever you were meaning to do here, just don’t break the law.”
The screen flickered off, and in the brief moments between that and the lights turning back on, the two figures wondered what next.
”So... what’s our job here, exactly?”
And as the captain turned towards the human with a tense look, he only said: ”Assassination.” | Before the door was even opened ,the energy was so thick a static arc crackled as the handle touched his hand .
Slowly the large metal door glided along a well oiled track to reveal dim blue flickering lights and the smell of hot transformer oil filled the nostrils.
Stepping into the dim lit room became anxiously difficult as the arching sound of high voltage electrical currents could be heard as well as felt when the small hairs began to stand up along the exposed skin .
Stopping to peer alertly in the direction of where the operation fail safe switch was supposed to be located according the buildings blue prints that now were clenched in the other fisted hand .
Enclosed head to toe in Arcflash gear ,the Fight or Flight instinct was caged inside a vault of training yet raged to be released.
27 steps from the door to the fail safe stop switch. 5 min of oxygen, low light and slick oil soaked floor with live circuits and no source outside the space to stop the power from finding the shortest path to ground.
No JSA ever covered this.thw Job saftey analysis form is useless and when I find out what electrical engineer put that fail safe inside the room ,I am probbly going to need bail money . | 2020-03-05T20:41:06 | 2020-03-05T17:47:27 | 91 | 20 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | "Stand down, villain!"
The battlecry broke off with a shrill note as Peacekeeper hobbled into the bank, wheezing at the effort he'd expended getting up the stairs. He paused to catch his breath at the door and leaned heavily upon the frame. Peacekeeper was clad in his signature blue and red unitard, unfortunately worn backwards, so his cape formed a sad looking bib.
Blood Harpy, legendary villain and thief, was choking a security guard with one hand. With the other, she was rubbing her forehead in an attempt to remove the headache that had begun to build at Peacekeeper's entrance.
"George, you can't keep doing this, you know the excitement isn't good for your heart."
"And you-" Peacekeeper coughed violently, then spoke amid heavy gasps. "Can't. Keep. Robbing. Banks." With that, Peacekeeper slumped to the ground.
Harpy's reaction was instant. She dropped the guard (who let out a heavy gasp) and sprinted towards the downed hero. Harpy checked for a pulse before putting her ear to the hero's chest.
Stop fussing," muttered Peacekeeper, his breath shallow. "Just need to take my medication. It's in my front pocket, can't seem to find it though..."
Harpy reached behind the elderly hero and produced a small brown bottle. Upon consuming a couple of pills, Peacekeeper's breathing returned to normal and Harpy's concern began to fade, just enough for her to get angry.
"I can't believe they let you through the cordon!" she said. "What the hell were they thinking! You're what, 80 now? You can barely get up the damned stairs!"
"87" replied Peacekeeper, "and still young enough to teach you a lesson."
"Tough talk" scoffed Harpy. "For a hero who can't even keep track of his heart medication."
Peacekeeper sighed, then spoke in a low voice. "Listen Jess, I like banter as much as the next hero, but I've known you long enough to sense when something's wrong. You've been clean for years, and all of a sudden I hear that you're lifting from a bank? You're lashing out."
Blood Harpy averted her gaze, and in doing so took in the scene around her. Trembling tellers, pale patrons and unconscious guards littered the bank. For the first time since her arrival, she realised that she was causing a scene. Harpy helped Peacekeeper to his feet, supported him with an arm, then turned to address her captive audience.
"Good news terrified mob, looks like you all get to live. Let it be known that I've captured the Peacekeeper and will execute him if I hear a single pig's trotter touch the floor of this bank. Now get the fuck out of my sight."
As unsure civilians fled out their respective closest exits, Blood Harpy and The Peacekeeper made their way to the back of the bank. Harpy picked a secluded office, settled the elderly hero in one of the seats and closed all the blinds. George waited patiently for Harpy to seat herself before speaking.
"So are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he asked.
Harpy thought about killing her nemesis there and then, it would be so much easier than the alternative. He'd been a thorn in her side for decades, always in the foreground, always putting a wrench in her plans, always in that damned unitard. Always there.
Jess let out a heavy sigh, and wrung her hands together.
"Sarah's dead," she whispered.
*to be continued?*
Edit: Thank you all so much for the support, you've made my day. [Part 2 is here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65458n/wp_a_senile_old_superhero_still_goes_out_to_fight/dg8m8gi/) | "I don't have time for this Hydro, so let that girl go and I may just spare you the hurt." His voice boomed. Mr. Streak, greatest hero of the 1980s, my grandfather's one time nemesis and comrade in arms against the Zorblaxian invasion. Despite his age, the old dreg still looks dapper as he was in his prime, it's a pity this old clock is falling apart beneath that fresh varnish.
"You have to actually stop me first, Streak." I taunted, smirking at him.
True to his name, Streak flew at me like a blur of mass, his signature blue lightning trailing behind. His left uppercut lands square on my jaw. I let go of the mannequin and back-flipped into recovery as Pappi had taught me, not that the old slug could hurt me at his current level but otherwise the illusion would be broken. Screaming for a full second to get his attention, I then launch a controlled water jet giving him just enough time to evade. Hardest part of the job, trying to kill an old man without actually killing him. A bolt of blue lightning with enough power to light the city comes crashing down on me, with barely enough time to condense the surrounding vapour into a bubble shield. I fought back the impulse to retaliate with lethal force and do a countdown to when he would drain himself. At the stroke of zero, I dropped to a half kneel as part of the act, but mostly because I can't stop my legs from trembling. Gosh, babysitting this old fogey is a high-stress job.
"Your powers have grown again, Streak. But I'm not done with you yet." I stood up in stance, still somewhat shaky, but I can't leave too early lest Streak throws himself between Morganna and the Force-X. He nearly got himself killed last time. Streak responds in kind and throws the first punch.
What was the expression again? Float like a butterfly, Stink like a soiled diaper? Yes, my dear Streak has soiled his diaper. I pray for the all clear to come before his spouts of lucidity comes back, hate to see the old squirt embarrassed in public.
God must be listening, because right as his next strike was about to land, the telepathic channel buzzed to life with Psych's voice calling for retreat. On hindsight, I think she's the one listening, not god. Psych, you still there? How about that date?
"I'll get you next time, Streak, until then..." I turn tail, running into the portal.
EDITED 15/04/17
End of part 1 | 2017-04-13T05:32:17 | 2017-04-13T05:12:50 | 162 | 25 |
[WP] "If I am not the rightful king, lightning shall strike me now!". It struck him. Silence followed. Baffled one of the bystanders cautiously asked "...well, could ya give us a sign who is?" | "My lord, I'm grateful for your invitation. I always heard about your delightful banquets and now I can atest to that."
The king despised the idea of having peasants like the son of the chief blacksmith attending his banquet but his advisors insisted on improving his public image by inviting the lesser kind.
"Drink up, boy. Tell everyone about my generosity", said the king, as he turned away.
"I don't think that they'll care. They're too busy defending themselves from the wild tribes and their rabid beasts because you refuse to strenghten the defenses and protect your own people."
The party came to a halt, with almost every attendee quickly turning their heads towards the insolent one. The royal guard was close enough to disable the threat and drag him to the torture chambers as soon as the king gave the order. The man continued talking, it was all or nothing.
"For your continued negligence it is that I, Elliot of the royal blacksmiths, demand that you ratify your god given position as king like the old teachings say."
The mere act of invoking the old teachings was unheard of, but the king knew he couldn't refuse; it would be too blasphemous of him.
"If I am not the rightful king, lightning shall strike me now."
A bolt roared and impacted the king right on the head. The body dropped to the ground, dirtying the beautiful and expensive clothes. It was a single strike born from a cloudless sky of the most serene blue. Nobody in that garden had ever seen a divine display of power like that, the old teachings said that the gods rarely intervened at all.
Elliot was sweating and shaking slightly. "She did it, she pulled it off", he said to himself.
One of the elders got up from his sit and approached the young man. He looked at the body of the king, and then around to the incredulous crowd. He knew the teachings and his role as the eldest of the attendees.
"Give us a sign, almighty one, for we need to know who our true king is", he yelled to the sky.
The sky rumbled as a second bolt came down and impacted right in front of Elliot, leaving a small fire on the grass. It was clear.
On the other end of the garden, behind the statues, a young girl laid down on the ground. The spell was draining enough when used once so it understandably left her completely exhausted after casting it twice. She smiled as she closed her eyes to take a nap because she knew that the right man for the job was being crowned by the elders next to the corpse. He was the best chance they all had to protect the kingdom from the imminent disaster | "If I am not the rightful king, lightning shall strike me now!" the king exclaimed. Not even a second later, lightning struck him, and he emerged, shaken, but not killed. He was; however, not in good shape. His body was charred, he could barely stand straight, and some even claimed to have seen a small wisp of flame burning upon his hair. The former king raised his hand to speak, but before he could get any words out, he fell, face first, unconscious.
A few moments passed, before cautiously, one of the bystanders quietly asked towards the skies, "...well, could you give us a sign of who is?"
The ground rumbled, and the crowd shuddered as storm clouds seemed to form overhead. Another moment passed, then lightning struck amongst the crowd. Everyone looked to see the man now struck, a relative nobody, for few people knew his name. This man too, was not in good shape. He was shaken, his body charred, and he struggled to stay upright. He raised his hand, struggling to speak, "It appears... It appears, as though... I... I have been chosen..."
The man looked up to the sky and continued, "Now, who should I choose as my advisers?"
As the man fell to the ground, finally succumbing to the injuries sustained from the strike, five more such strikes were seen hitting several others within the crowd. | 2018-10-25T22:01:51 | 2018-10-25T20:32:44 | 63 | 34 |
[WP] By chance, you end up on the jury for a crime you committed but someone else was arrested for. | "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury this man is as guilty as they come. I have no doubt in my mind that this crime was committed with extreme malice toward the victim, with the attacker showing no remorse for his actions"
The "victim" he referred to sat in wheelchair sporting a large white neckbrace. He currently couldn't speak or move much at all, but they said he'd recover eventually. I had hoped he wouldn't.
I couldn't have cared less about who the poor sap being accused of my crime was however.
When I was summoned for jury duty the last thing I expected to see was the man I had put in that wheelchair weeks before. He deserved it, or at least I convinced myself he did. I was actually pleasently surprised to be here as it gave me a chance to put a plan into action.
"Your honor this is ludicrous. The victim was attacked from behind around midnight as he left his apartment. What sort of indication do we have that my client was even remotely related to this incident?"
"The DNA found at the scene is a direct match to your client. If it were a skin sample or a hair sample there may be some doubts, but a fresh blood sample?"
Heh yeah. That was one of my better ideas I must admit. I honestly didn't care where I got the blood from, as long as it was someone else's. It helped that it I was able to score someone's that lived in a complex close to the victims place.
"That coupled with security footage of a man with a similiar build to the accused attacking the victim seems like evidence to me"
There back and forth game bored me, and I tuned out pretty fast. What I really wanted was to go and convince the rest if the jury that this guy did it. I was hoping it wouldn't come down to something out of *12 angry men* , but if it did so be it. I spent the rest of my time on the bench trying not to fall asleep and eyeballing the "victim".
I didn't mean to mess him up that bad, honest, and I surely didn't expect them to actually pull DNA from what I planted. After all this guy was no Warren Buffet or Billy Gates. He was just some schmuck who stole from the wrong people. Deep down I even felt for him a little.
My routine was simple; guy steals from us (well steal is a pretty general term) , I rough up the guy a bit (or cripple him in this case), he pays out. I guess this time an extra step was added I end up on the jury thirty feet from the guy.
I tuned back into the back and forth of our wonderful judicial system when me and the "victim" locked eyes. He squinted at me hard, like he was looking for something particular.
Fuck.
I tried to play it cool and convince myself that I was just paranoid, but he continued to glare in my direction. I could feel the room heat up when finally I heard the words I'd been waiting for.
"The jury will now be escorted out to make a decision"
I was relieved to no longer be in the room with that broken, wide eyed man. Now was the good part. The room was something right out of a movie. Large wooden table, dull carpeted floors, the a/c cranked up far too high. Everyone took a seat and I siezed the opportunity to speak first.
"Alright everybody let's get this over with. It seems clear to me. Blood found on the scene from both men, person in the footage sports a similar build to the accused, and to be frank the accused has no real alibi"
A few people nodded in agreement while others appeared to need more convincing.
"Ok, but what determines for sure that the accused is the guy? What if he was set up?" A man near the back of the room spoke.
I stepped back to let them discuss that possibility. Maybe this was just my time. The victim stared right into my soul from behind those bandages. Maybe he already knew it was me. Hell maybe they were coming for me right now. Coming clean was the right thing to d-
"Sir. Sir? What to you say guilty or not guilty? You're the deciding vote"
Now was my time to make a decision. I could cleanse myself of all the bad I've done right here and now. Today was the day.
"That man's as guilty as they come. I say lock him up for as long as he lives his miserable life"
Well...I guess I could come clean some other time.
| The following scenario pops up in my mind upon reading your question:
Say, for example, the character (X) is a sociable person with a respectable career and healthy life. X has no love life, and his parents have passed. Others in his family have abandoned him. Why so, you may ask? It's because X has gambled away most of the family savings and is considered to be a degenerate. Therefore, he has no one he can hurt with his actions. He feels invincible. No one can stop him from gambling now.
During an evening session with his buddies, one of them manages to cross him. X is not pleased. He is drunk, and his rage builds. He wants to murder said buddy (Y).
Once the evening descends into night, while everyone sleeps peacefully, X, still drunk, staggers over to Y's house and stabs him with a knife of his own. No witnesses. X takes care to leave no evidence.
Investigations go as they do, and none of the evidence the police have gathered point to him. He is relieved, but upon being interviewed for a statement, he lies meticulously, thus clearing himself.
However, X is facing an inner battle, between guilt and satisfaction. He was never a man to take such an action. His parents had instilled in him values of purity, but no man is perfect. He cannot remember why he started gambling in the first place. Money troubles? An escape from a dead-end job? Whatever it was, he has flipped over to the other side. He is not religious and does not think he can find salvation.
An old gambling mate (Z) of X has been arrested for Y's murder. He feels remorseful, but also wants to escape because he is a coward. No coward would kill anyone because they pulled a long-lasting joke on him. But, in a strange turn of events, X has been asked to be a jury member for the trial.
On the day when X's morals are bound to be tested, he sees Z, his wrinkly face in tears. Z knows it was X, but there was no way he could prove it. Z looks at X but does not misbehave. Z glares and glares. X is not comfortable but does not do anything to arouse suspicion either. He remains seated.
What does he do? Does he vote against his imprisonment? Does he vote for it? He knows that most in the jury will vote for it. He could have some moral respite by voting against, but how much? Z will still go to prison for his crime. The guilt is eating him up. There is still emotion left in him.
Before the jury's verdicts are revealed before the court, X stands up and announces, much to everyone's shock, "It was I, your honour, who murdered Mr. Y in cold blood," and proceeds to narrate the entire incident.
A huge burden is lifted off his chest. X cries, and so does Z. A probe is ordered that finds X guilty. He is sentenced to life.
X may never be forgiven, but he finds peace in knowing that he prevented an innocent man from prison by paying for what he did. In his heart, that is a win and a source of solace and consolation. | 2018-02-24T04:58:38 | 2018-02-24T04:51:14 | 2,028 | 23 |
[WP] One evening, in the sky, a message appeared: "In 24 hours, a billionaire will die." Everyone everywhere on Earth could see it, in every language. Nobody could explain it. The next day, one of the richest men passed away. "In 24 hours, 2 billionaires..." | One evening, in the sky, a message appeared: "In twenty-four hours, a billionaire will die."
The next day, the richest man in the history of the planet, an electric car manufacturer, was touring his company's latest worker barracks. The gangway he was walking on gave way. He fell thirty-five stories down the damp, lightless pit at its center.
"In twenty-four hours, two billionaires will die."
The day after, the owner of the world's largest online marketplace was showcasing his latest unmanned drone technology. It would allow him to increase the world's daily plastic consumption by five percent and his personal fortune by thirty percent. There was a glitch in the clicker he was using to control them. Two-thousand drones converged on him. His funeral had to be closed casket on account of the severe lacerations.
The retired founder of the company that processed most of the world's information was sipping his tea. He was looking at the upward value of his re-education prison camp stocks when a piece of biscuit stuck in his throat. He was a bit of a recluse and used the technology built by his company to keep his ten-thousand square meter house mostly unoccupied by other humans. He died alone, choking, while the trend line of his personal wealth continued to rise.
The next day, three billionaires died.
Two and a half months later, the number of billionaires dying each day had reached seventy-five, and the running total 2775. The world had run out of billionaires.
The next day, the sign said "In twenty-four hours, a millionaire will die."
I breathed a sigh of relief. There were about fifty-six million people worth over a million dollars in the world. At the linear growth rate the sky sign had taken to work its way through billionaires, it would be another twenty-eight years until they reached the rest of us.
I coded up a website where you could input your net worth and it would return a rough estimate of when your time would be up.
Its views skyrocketed.
I briefly thought of putting ads on it, but reconsidered.
Wouldn't want to risk getting rich. | ...
The real tragedy of it was, there was already a deadly message in the sky. One that affected not a small group of predators but the entirety of humanity. One that only a few could read but that everyone needed to see. One that was entirely explicable and could have been, with effort, thwarted. One that should have moved everyone to even greater concerted action but, incoherently, did not. The fact that humanity took such radical action and effected so enormous a shift in their zeitgeist, economically, politically, socially, industrially, to protect the lives of so few, makes one wonder why they could not, nay, DID not do so when the very habitability of the planet for all future generations was at stake. The very real threat of global warming was battering down the walls of human civilization all across the globe at that very moment. Yet still...
What would humanity have done if that message in the sky never appeared? | 2022-08-29T05:31:42 | 2022-08-29T00:30:58 | 317 | 39 |
[WP] Humanity has always thought itself very smart for figuring out how to ride a giant explosion into space. Turns out there's a much easier way and the rest of the galaxy thinks we're insane. | Humans had always been persistent, from the time they had been spotted on their homeworld, struggling with wars, strife and poverty. They, against all odds had prevailed time and time again. Yet there always seemed to be a more peaceful solution, an easier one.
Humanity had a talent for making things more difficult than they actually were.
Why go to war when you could resolve tensions peacefully? Why argue over resources that would soon disappear instead of preparing for that eventuality? Why over-indulge in the useless things instead of helping others? Most human conflict seemed quite unbelievable to them.
They were considered a curiosity, a subject of jokes they weren’t aware of. They were known throughout the galaxy for their odd quirk.
And when they finally invented space travel, uniting after countless centuries of pointless conflict.
Their ascension into space would be remembered for centuries.
The humans lifted off their homeworld in giant structures of all things, giant structures powered by explosions.
Explosions.
Explosions..
Explosions...
Explosions?
Their impractical vessels were powered by explosions. It was the most unstable manner of the space flight they had witnessed.
They didn’t seemed to rely on gravity at all. In fact their vessels fought against gravity. The very source that powered most of the Intergalactic Union’s vessels.
The humans had certainly lived up to their reputation.
It was absolutely insane, they had tamed most of the fundamental forces of the known universe and they had chosen to fight against the most useful one. The single crucial force that would allow them to have unlimited travel throughout the universe. To build anything.
Instead they had chosen to use explosions. **Explosions** to power something that clearly was very fragile, that required the upmost delicacy.
The humans were insane, there was no other word for it.
___
A few decades later, the first human vessel would come in contact with an unidentified alien ship. When they activated the comms system and established contact, the beings had started to react.
The more humanoid ones started to cough, others not so much. Some seemingly propulsing liquid out of various sensory organs.
Even a few decades later, humans would never understand why the first aliens they had met reacted so violently.
They associated the reaction with the word “Hello” since the aliens seemed to always react that way in the presence of humans. The reaction was even more amplified when they were present with more than one member of their species.
*It was like they all shared some sort of inside joke.* | The primates that inhabit the Earth, thought to be sentient and conscious, bear the ridicule of the galaxy. Visiting space at the cost of pricey metals and exorbitant resources? Absolutely ludicrous. What about those who have tried the universal method of visiting space? They are shunned and told never to do it again. Just what is it with humanity and their needlessly extravagant practice of sending metallic cylinders with their pitiful kind into space if you could do so at the cost of a few martian *cents*, not even dollars, at the supermarket? It's not that they lack the materials for the much cheaper method. They are just dead set on not doing so. If we were to try to contact another intelligent life form, they would certainly be last on the list. There is almost a *cult* against our method of visiting space. ridiculous. I will visit space right now to spite their kind. I will pop a pill, and close my eyes. I will be on Saturn in five minutes, where the hands of humanity shall never reach. Just what are they thinking?
first time poster, obviously I'm shite at this. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I'm going to post it anyways because I want to improve at writing and hopefully, I can write meaningful stories next time and not just shitposts that people forget. | 2019-01-21T06:09:26 | 2019-01-21T04:49:32 | 84 | 38 |
[WP] Superman announces on the news that he is going to kill each person on earth, one by one, until humanity is wiped out, in alphabetical order.
What would happen? What would happen from a local to a worldwide level? | It was like elementary school again. The ones at the top of the attendance looking down at those at the bottom. Getting their choice of seats, being dismissed first, and just generally benefiting from being born in to the right family with the right last name. Except this time, those at the top of the list were screwed. They'd be killed first. The benefits from earlier in life would come crashing down. It was almost like karma.
Right from the get-go everyone was scrambling. CNN was running their 24 hour coverage bullshit when they had their signal interrupted by Superman, who announced that the world would be killed one by one in alphabetical order. Nobody knew the rate. Nobody knew whether he would sort by first, middle, or last name. Nobody even knew how he was going to kill. The only thing everyone knew was that their death would come. People were calling relatives to check on them. The internet exploded. Government officials had to figure out what to do in order to calm down their citizens.
Then that scrambling turned to madness. The court systems were overwhelmed with people trying to legally change their names to Zzzzzz Zzzz Zzzzzzzz, for fear that Superman may sort by something other than last name. Suddenly, whole communities had the same name. Eventually, whole states and even countries had names starting with Z. The trend was so big that after a year, 75% of the worldwide population had a name starting with Z.
However, the deaths didn't start. Of course, natural deaths and accidents and whatnot still occurred, but no noticeable trend emerged from the deaths. Nothing indicating that Superman was getting to work on his plan. In time, people began dismissing it as an empty threat to scare the human population.
Just as life was beginning to return to normal, Superman appeared on CNN with Zzzz Zzzzzzz, formerly known as Wolf Blitzer. The interview was tense, seeing as one was an almost immortal being with the ability to literally end the world.
"So Superman," Wolf began. "You haven't delivered on your little . . . umm . . . how do I put this? Threat."
"Yes. Is there a question in there somewhere?" he replied.
"Well I'm just wondering, along with most people in the world, why haven't you killed anyone yet? Not that I'd want you to."
"Oh, well, you see, there's a great reason. I was simply testing the reaction of the human race."
"And did we pass?"
"Lol no. I'm going in reverse alphabetical order now, bitches! Who's the smart one now?" Superman yelled, as Zzzz Zzzzzzz lay helplessly dying in his chair. | Mr. A Aaron Aarons had always hated his name. It was after all a clerical error at the hospital that led to the unique handle. His mother had told him that she wanted to name him Adam Aarons after his grandfather, but somewhere in the haze of drugs and child birth she signed A Arron Aarons and the name just kind of stuck.
Mr. Aarons, like most of the world, was watching Superman give his press conference live from the steps of the famous Daily Planet newspaper office in downtown Metropolis. Everybody in Mr. Aarons office was huddled around the break room television trying to hear what the greatest hero the earth has ever known had to say.
"Yes Miss Lane, you heard me correctly. Time after time I have I have saved this planet from certain destruction. I have battled mad men drunk with power, robots from other dimensions, villains more powerful then the human mind could ever fathom, and for what? So the human race could continue to hate one another? To take advantage of each other for profit and power? To slowly poison the very planet I have risked my life to save?
The truth is Miss Lane I am tired. Tired of everything. So yes, you and the world heard me right. Every last person on this planet will be killed in alphabetical order. Starting Now."
A Aaron Aarons felt his heart drop, then felt his neck snap. A blue and red blur was all his coworkers ever saw. | 2015-07-12T21:53:29 | 2015-07-12T21:32:54 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] Potions can work miracles, but the brewing process requires fermentation. Wizard battles frequently devolve into drunken bar fights. | A battle between mages is a matter of attrition, as often as not.
Sure, you can *try* to overwhelm them at the start. That'll work, sometimes.
Funny thing about throwing a bunch of spells at one spot, though- tends not to work on people who can teleport.
So, no, it's a battle of attrition. Magical skill and strength, foresight and insight, cunning and creativity, and being able to hold your booze.
Potions can restore magical stamina, heal physical wounds, and also have the side effect of causing you to brim with confidence.
A wizard battle is a matter of attrition, which makes it quite alarming to the participants, after the fact, to realize that, at some point in the battle, they started drinking their expensive potions simply because they wanted another drink.
The results were rarely pretty, but they *were* often entertaining.
"Why...\*hic\*...whydya gotta be so meeeeeeen to me?"
"Because y'r mom *is* a phrenic parasite, that's why. And because I don't like y'r stoopid *face*!"
A fireball was thrown, and detonated harmlessly overhead. Aiming was more than a little difficult, when a battle had devolved to this point. The other wizard dodged dramatically (and a little late), taking cover behind an available rock and bonking his head in the process.
"Owwwww! That frellin' *hurt*! Stupid butt ass!"
The favor was returned, a lightning bolt passing remarkably close, all things considered, to the other mage. His hair began to stand on end, and his long beard spread out, changing from a noble and portentous sign of venerability and potency into something that looked more like a fan.
"Awww, y'r *mom's* a butt ass!"
A spell was attempted, but spells are delicate things. The minimal differences in finger movements between Nixteral's Gourmet Summoned Coffee and Laretxin's Vicious Summoned Badger have ruined the morning of many a mage.
In this case, an attempt at conjuring a storm of acid instead resulted in a much larger swarm of scarabs. This might not have been so bad, if the swarm hadn't been large enough to engulf *both* combatants.
The battle paused, for a while, both mages trying a variety of things to get the bugs to leave them alone.
Lightning bolts proved ineffective, and an attempt to conjure a personal wind-shield (armor made of whirling wind, rather than an object meant to shield against wind) instead resulted in Personal Meat Armor ("Made From Real Rotting Meat!")
This did not improve matters.
The matter was resolved when an attempt at another lightning bolt had instead summoned a deluge. The deluge, thankfully, was of water, which dispersed the bugs, softened the ground, and, alarmingly, began to water down the potions that remained.
(Self-control is among the first things to go, when a mage battle descends into potion-fueled absurdity. Both combatants had had the clever idea to uncap all of their potions ahead of time, to make for easier quaffing later. This had resulted in a great deal of spilled potion, but neither mage was in a position to really notice. Rain from the sky getting in *did* get their attention, though- it's odd, what you will and will not notice under the influence of sufficiently magical booze.)
The battle ceased entirely, as both combatants scrambled to prevent the rain from getting into their precious drinks. The battle faded further into memory as each combatant noticed that they had been spilling potion this whole time, and attempted to scoop the potion back in, resulting mostly in adding a bunch of mud to their drinks.
The battle was entirely forgotten, now. Both mages slumped against each other, having crawled next to each other in their search for Spilled Booze.
"I'm...I'm sorry, man. Ion't...Ion't meanta be like that, ya feel? Just...just you started yellin' stuff, an' then I started yellin' stuff, an' then it all just wen- POOF!"
This last sound effect was accompanied by an extravagant gesture, a dangerous thing, with mages. Fortunately, the poodle that was summoned simply looked confused and wandered off to find somewhere dry, or at least somewhere not actively being rained on by what looked more like an ocean than a cloud.
"I kno- man, I *KNOW*. I just *KNOW* things, y'know? I had- it was some sorta thing, like, with that am- that am-...that necklace y'got."
"Man, I'ain't even...I'ain't even *want* this thing. Man, you take it."
"Hey, that's real sweet, man. I frellin' love you, dude. Thanks dude."
"Man, no prollem, no prollem."
There was a moment of clumsy digging for an amulet among the rotting meat that had been summoned as armor. It was slow going, and got slower when the mage wearing it decided to help his companion out. Still, it was eventually drawn forth, and extricated from the mage wearing it.
...
"Hey. Heyyyy!"
One mage shook the other, hoping to share his new discovery with his friend.
"...whassit?"
"Dude, y'know this necklace you gamme?"
"I do? Wait...hey, I remember that! I w's wearin' it!"
"So I was...I was lookin' fer this, like, this thing, and I thought that this was the thing, but then I looked at it, and it's *not*. Real thing's gottan...gottan *inscription* on the back. Something about eagles, Ion't really remmemer."
"Oh, man. Hey, so y'need'ta finda real one?"
"Oh, dude, I think I do. Totally bodus."
"C'n I have tha one back?"
This was attempted, but neither mage had the coordination to manage the complex task of putting a small chain loop over a head. The amulet was eventually tossed aside into the mud, as the two mages laid next to each other for a nice nap, as the deluge of water slowed, and the clouds dispersed overhead.
The summoned poodle returned some time later, carrying the amulet. When it was unable to wake either mage, it ran off into the far distance, a free, magical poodle. | Somewhere in the courtyard an emptied vial shattered loudly against the cobblestone. Long, violet vines were crawling up the pillars surrounding the open space. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, but the rumbling of thunder resounded and the flash of lightning zipped along the sky.
Vicente rubbed his fingers across his eyes as he set his stein beneath the keg’s tap. The sun was too bright today.
Discovering that he had a gift for magic is what saved him from having to go to his local college. He wouldn’t have to deal with taking two years of meaningless classes in the loose hopes that he’d be allowed to graduate with his communications degree.
A witch in the courtyard was hit by a plume of red smoke. She emerged from it a wizard.
He wouldn’t have to spend his well-earned money at the cafeteria; meat that had never been alive, vegetables that had never been exposed to the real sun’s light.
One wizard in the corner couldn’t handle his potions. He wretched up a bit of yellow-green bile, followed by a green-yellow tentacle.
He wouldn’t have to live in a dirty room, woken up every morning by his roommate finally getting back, still drunk, a new partner on his hip.
Vicente finally thought to twist the tap. The brew began to float upwards. He considered that it may have just been the nature of the batch, but when he himself started floating, he said a small chant to affix his gravity to the ground. Most other’s in the courtyard weren’t sober enough to do the same.
And, finally, he wouldn’t have to deal with the frat house parties. Living adjacent to his local college’s campus his whole life, he knew that when they partied, the whole town partied.
The vomiting wizard finished, falling to his back in exhaustion, as the tentacled…thing he had thrown up undulated like a jellyfish, moving toward the city at the bottom of the hill.
No, having awoken to his magical potential, Vicente leapt at the opportunity to finally get out of his home town, in spite of his poor grades. He’d get to explore a hidden continent and live in a pre-modern city, away from the noise pollution, light pollution, and regular pollution he’d grown used to over the years. He’d get to see legends preserved in time and reality, unviolated by the limiting scope of science. And he’d get to pierce the cosmos, internalizing that the periodic table of the soul was infinitely more expansive, more powerful, and could drive humanity farther than anything centuries of science in an “enlightened era could”.
Two witches stumbled to the kegs, each erroneously leaning on the other to support their drunken gaits. One belched and a puff of white fire escaped her. The both broke down laughing.
Those were the promises, anyway.
A ball of mud whiffed past his head, clung to the wall, grew limbs, and began to ascend to the gutters. He tried to twist the keg again, his mug filled with a frothy, purple elixir.
Vicente’s classes here were far from meaningless, but they did propose some concepts he couldn’t understand. The nature of the periodic table of the soul, for instance, implied that for every element you discovered ten more would appear. Text books were written in English, but it was Old English, and they were all written in some form of thrice-reversed cursive. And, most surprisingly, almost every potion made needed to be fermented at some point before its powers would take effect.
One of his professors, demonstrating out his newest batch of potion out in the courtyard, held a barrel up to his mouth, dousing himself as he drank from it. And then he lit himself on fire.
The food at the school was natural, just not natural to any world he knew of. Eating the food he’d grown up with, Earth food, “mundane” food, apparently did nothing to nourish him as a magician. To get those nice magic minerals, you needed to eat food from other worlds.
An alarming degree of which was still sentient when it landed on the plate.
There was a soft hum in the distance. Looking up, Vicente saw something falling. The soft hum evolved into a scream as the wizard got closer. He collided with the cobblestone, his flesh and bones shattering like an eggshell and his clear viscera spreading out. A little yellow chick hopped from the mess and made its way to the dorms.
His room was, thankfully, clean, but his roommate did still come back with a different partner every night. Some of them were other witches or wizards. Most of them were just shaped like witches and wizards. Vicente spent much of the previous night awake to the sound of clicking teeth and woke to a curtain of mucus hanging around his bottom bunk.
He looked around at the courtyard, magic flying wildly.
The ragers that happened were unimaginable, consistently unimaginable. Last night alone the city streets got flooded by a river of sheep’s wool. People dining in open areas had their steak dinners turn to boars and their pork dinners turn to bulls. One of the professors went streaking, a litters-worth of cats springing from her feet with every step. Another professor made the planets align fifty years too early because he wanted to get his brew done quicker. A few wizards made their way into the chapel and some sort of god opened the clouds, throwing bolts of lightning to drive them out.
Vicente brought his stein to his lips. Back to work. | 2021-02-01T09:17:53 | 2021-02-01T08:53:27 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] "Why are you so scared of Earth? They don't have any magic. We can take them as slaves," said the High Sorcerer of the Martian Empire. "Because they compensate for their lack of magic with something greater," responded his advisor. | "Why are you so scared of Earth? They don't have any magic. We can take them as slaves." said Potae High Sorcerer of the Martian Empire.
"Because they compensate their lack of magic with something greater." said Loma the advisor. "Or rather what they replaced it with."
"So they don't have magic but they replaced it with something else? I can't see what you mean, Loma." said Potae.
"I observed Earth and experimented on a few subjects, not only do they lack magic abilities but they have a complete lack of mana." said Loma. "However every creature should have something filling their spirit, because they don't have mana flowing through them they replaced it with hate."
"Hate? That primitive feeling of intense disliking of something?" said Potae.
"It goes further than disliking something. When I took the subjects they had this look in their eyes, as if it was a chained beast. They all wanted to kill, I could feel it with my mana." said Loma. "So one time I set one free and send in slaves from other races to see what it would do."
"And what happend?" asked Potae.
"None of the slaves came out alive." said Loma. "We gave the Earthling a simple crude construction tool, and it ripped open every single slave. Even when they begged not to be killed, the Earthling didn't care and enraged with it's hate it slaughtered them all."
Potae was shocked. "So these primal beasts are carnivorous?"
"That's the scariest part, they are not. They kill just for the sake of killing." said Loma.
"And what happend to the Earthling?" asked Potae now in utter disgust.
"The experiment happend about 2 days ago." said Loma. "The Earthling broke free and hides somewhere in the base as we speak."
"Loma! You have to be kidding! How could you let such a feral beast escape?!" shouted Potae.
"It broke free through our guards. However we injured it and it should not be able to fight in optimal condition now." said Loma. "The guard is searching the base and w\-\-" That's when suddenly they heared a roar coming from the other side of the door and it opened.
There it stood. The Earthling with the eye of one of our comrades. The Earthling cut out the eye to bypass our biolocked doors. Loma en Potae just watched in complete shock of the sight of their brutally slaughtered comrade.
"You vil pay now, no more you vil hurt people. For Spetsnaz, for the motherland!" Nikolai yelled as he charged Potae and Loma. Their fates were sealed. | My lord we would never win, forgive me you just don’t understand them, we could hold them a few months, kill them by the millions sure, but we would never win.
Space lord: “Do you think they’re better than us? Do you think they could unite against our regime? Are you a human sympathizer?”
Me: “quite the opposite lord, they won’t beat us because they’re better, they’ll beat us because they’re so much worse.”
Space lord: “enlighten me, what do you know of them?”
Me: “they’re not ruled by one leader or government but multiple realms, alliances and factions fighting for power. They have been fighting each other for millennias. They are a violent people, they’ll fight over resources, food, land, water, peoples, politics, and when they’re out of practical reasons to fight........ they’ll make up some more, they’ll fight over religious beliefs, sports, “ideology” they have never known true peace”
Space lord: “so your saying they play dirty?”
Me: “play dirty is a understatement, they’d kill their poor by the hundred of thousands in the name of regional patriotism against us. If we send a negotiation team there’s a 90% change that the country we land them in will detain them, dissect them, or torture them for intel. And the few countries that might not do that aren’t taken seriously by the rest of the planet. They are beneath us, please let this go”
| 2018-04-25T22:43:59 | 2018-04-25T20:13:54 | 79 | 13 |
[WP] After waking up in your home at 3:54am to a warning, you do what it specifically tells you not too.
The warning reads:
*Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.*
*Do not look outside.*
*Do not look at the sky.*
*Do not make noise.*
*Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.*
_____________________________________________________
Credit and thanks to every one in [this thread.](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2qwm98/its_354_am_your_tv_radio_cell_phone_begins/cna761m) | You put down your phone, exasperated.
"DAVE YOU MOTHERFUCKER ITS FOUR IN THE MORNING." You yell into the wall to your right, not hard as your bed is right up against it. Opposite you your television you left on was quietly blaring the same message you saw on your phone moments ago.
Through the slits in the blinds on your window you see bright lights passing by. You glance at the television once more.
*Do not look outside.*
You get up, shivering slightly, as you slide from under the covers and walk over to the door that connects your room with Dave's.
"Dave? You home?"
You didn't really expect an answer but you go into his room, just to make sure. Dave's room is a mess. But you knew that. His bed, however, was very well made. Dave works the graveyard shift at some gas station so you don't see around often-- or awake.
As you ponder to yourself you hear yelling from outside, as well as sirens. Not different from the usual, considering where you live. You move from Dave's room to the common room, the shouting drawing you to the window where you could look down from your second story balcony.
There are no blinds to your balcony door. You see none of the lights that you saw when you were in your room.
Your phone buzzes again.
*Do not look at the sky.*
You can see the sky, almost, from where you stand. Curiosity takes you and you stroll up to the window to get a better look at what all the fuss is about. The sky is disappointingly boring. Can't see stars in a big city. More yelling from down the street.
*Do not make noise.*
You open the glass sliding door to your balcony and step outside into the cold winter air.
The commotion stops, suddenly, almost reacting to you coming outside. You inch forward, slowly cresting the lip of the balcony. You look down.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEAN! | Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately...
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered as I sheepishly got off my bed, "C'mon, don't these people know what time it is?"
Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows...
*Huh? They telling us to do what now? Jeez.. it better be worth the trouble.* *I mean it's 4 a.m. in the morning, what do they mean by block all windows, like what's there to see outsi*-
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.
| 2014-12-31T05:10:44 | 2014-12-31T04:43:55 | 177 | 44 |
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket. | "You'll do fine," Orixia assured him.
"But all you gave me is this stupid antique!"
"That 'stupid antique,'" his sponsor retorted, "is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability."
"Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is *horseshit* compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!"
Orixia smiled. "Just practice with it for the next week. And *trust* me."
§
Each god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon.
In the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable.
The gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify.
Finally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes.
"The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
There was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now.
"The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
A gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here?
"The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket."
So it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced...
"The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate."
Jeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear:
"NO! I am *not* going to 'take one for the team!'"
Each candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same.
§
In the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him.
As for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word.
---
**Edit:** Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI) | The god of light breezes wanted me, out of all the pantheon of gods I get picked by the only one my skinny ass could take in a fight. I have been picked to die by this snivelling little shit to sacrifice myself for his honour. Life was going good nice job, big house and the wife has a great pair of tits all of it ruined so I can die for the god of light breezes.
I was like the rest of you watched the tournaments of the gods on TV and laughed when the shit gods presented there doomed tributes. I never thought I would get picked by any of the gods, least of all the god of light fucking breezes. People who are called to fight for the gods are usually, poor pathetic useless bastards with nothing to live for but me.I’m not replaceable if I die here today who will manage sloughs third biggest tech company specialist in doors.
The training for this great battle in the clouds is intense I’d heard, so intense it took my god 5 hours to get his breeze up. I was given a spear and a handshake from the god they call Gary, apparently he didn’t know how to fight, run or even hide, Gary was barely capable of existing. The days grew closer to the battle and Gary decided it was a good time to let me know that in a millennium not one of his picks lasted a minute in the arena, but he had high hopes for me.
Waiting in the armoury during the last few hours before battle,I was visited by a light breeze dragging a note across the floor, Gary had a plan I should hide and wait until the end and stab the one left standing it. I was amazed Garry was allowed to us a pen, I needed divine intervention that obviously won’t come from a god like Garry. The moment came for the battle,boom a bright light and I was on some sort of battle world.
I bravely held my spear right and ran away from everyone, the battle that followed was so intense that no one could describe it in a story, so they didn’t bother. The upshot of this whole mess is that I Barry of slough became the god of rain, apparently the great victor of the melee for the chosen, slipped on a rock and cracked his head open. I think that the gods felt sorry for me and gave me that easy win to compensate for Garry.
I now stand upon the world of gods and have forgotten almost entirely slough and the world of men with Garry kept by my side, so I can piss rain down upon him for eternity. | 2018-10-16T17:35:20 | 2018-10-16T17:04:53 | 6,321 | 30 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | Admiral.
A title relegated to the best of Naval Officers, a true leader.
Farragut. Porter. Dewey. Fletcher. King. Nimitz. Kinkaid. Halsey. Spruance. Burke. The greatest Navy men in the United States, or so I have been told.
In the Navy, it is one of the highest ranks one can attain. To be an Admiral is a great honor.
So why do I not feel honored to take this position?
Of course, I know why. I am in no way the intended person for this role. A traitor to my homeland, a deserter of my Legion, a guerrilla naval specialist, a "Tin Can Captain". And most importantly, a Krai-toln. The very ruling race of the Empire that Humanity is set on fighting.
I know I have earned my title. My list of awards given by the Navy is long and impressive; the Distinguished Flying Cross for Heroic Actions at the Battle of Mars, two Purple Hearts, one for the Battle of Sirius and one for Operation 'Achy Breaky Heart', the Navy Cross, the E. E. Evans 'Last Stand' Award for Actions at the Battle of Bernard's Star, and many more lesser awards.
I know I do not belong here - yet, everyone says I do.
Humans are the nicest, yet most terrifying race I have ever met. The closest phrase I can think of to describe Humanity is "Dignified Indignity", and that goes for their warfare, too. Where the Krai-toln uses lasers and electromagnetic pulses, the Humans use ballistics and atom-splitters. It is a totally indignant form of warfare, yet, under a orderly, calm mask of dignity.
Yet, there is one form of warfare where Humanity is completely and utterly dignified, and would not dare stray into indignity: diplomacy. I have read of situations, misunderstandings, that back in the Empire would've been a declaration of War. Yet, as the young man tasked with bringing me 'up to speed' with history said, "cooler heads prevailed."
I will say, there are no 'cooler heads' in the Kraii Empire. It is a nation of pure war, built to do nothing but destroy and assimilate. As much as I hate to say it, the Krai-toln people are much the same, told by their dictators what to think, what to say, and who to fight to gain "glory and power".
I did not even know about the death statistics for Kraii Legionaries until I fled to the side of the Humans, into the arms of the US Navy, where they documented every kill and mourned every loss; a completely unheard of tradition in the Kraii Empire, at least under the current regime.
78.62% of all Kraii Legionaries sent into battle do not come back alive. Of that 21.38%, another \~20% are killed upon return to their commanding officers, being deemed either too damaged to be useful to the War Effort or being a failure to the Kraii Nation for having fled battle, even if that battle was already over.
The 1-or-so percentage left alive are commanding officers, sons of rulers or commanding officers, or those rich enough to purchase the ability to fight another day.
It is clear to me that a total war to Humans is a completely different thing to a Kraii "Always War".
A human total war is a complete mobilization of a nation to defeat an enemy, temporarily expanding the armed forces to a massive extent with those willing to fight against those who have wronged the homeland they love. It is a last step along a path of diplomacy, a final option if all else fails.
A Kraii "Always War" - the "Ker-to-wesyllison" - is a permanent state. All citizens must fight, make goods for the fight, or command the fight. Those who cannot are exterminated. There is no place for diplomacy, no place for peace, no place for health, only fighting and dying.
It is really no wonder, then, that the Humans are the ones winning the war.
Should a Human return from a battle injured, he is not killed, nor is he a failure. He is a hero, and is treated as such. What with the Kraii would be a practice only reserved for those at the very top of the command chain is common place with the Humans. It is amazing; for all my time in the Kraii Legions, I never once saw a medic. Here, it seems there is one around every corner, seeking people to help. A profession built on sympathy.
And that is what separates Humanity from the Kraii Empire: Sympathy.
One cannot heal, negotiate, learn from, or otherwise treat another being as an equal without some degree of sympathy. It seems to be a trait ingrained in humans, a natural response to any interaction, good or bad. It is even seen as a mental illness to not have any sympathy for other beings.
This is far removed from the Kraii of today. I suspect we used to have ingrained sympathy; landmarks such as the Monument to Unity in the very heart of the capitol of the Empire attest to a much more Human-like past. However, any sign of this in today's Krai-toln soldiers is sadly uncommon. It is still there, shining to the surface in some occasions, even leading to defections such as mine. For most Krai-toln, though, sympathy is missing, bred out by their leaders to create a race of near-perfect warriors.
Their near-perfect warriors are faltering.
A human shot by a Krai-toln will most likely be healed and back in action within the month; a Krai-toln shot by a human and not rescued by humans will be most surely dead, left to die by the very government he fights for. Destroyed human supplies will be replaced by the end of the day by the hard-working men and women giving their all in the factories; destroyed Kraii supplies are only replaced when living workers can be found, the workers who made the previous supplies having already been killed for some minor mistake their government found intolerable.
We will win this Total War, because for Humanity, and for it's allies, for those who believe in freedom, liberty, and individuality, war is temporary. Mistakes are forgivable. Sympathy is given to those who need it.
And that is why, today, I stand here and accept the role of Admiral in the United States Navy. Not because it is what I deserve. Not because it is what my commanders declare. No, I accept this role because I truly believe in the ways of humanity, of sympathy, of diplomacy before war, of temporary war. I have seen what a total destruction of sympathy and diplomacy can do. I have seen the results of an "Always War". And I never wish to witness it again, and I shall do my best with the power I have been given to make sure an "Always War" is never allowed to occur again.
I encourage all of you to do the same.
*-Admiral Jrell Vohanne Kelard-Synn, United States Navy*
*"The Grand Acceptance Speech" - Given Aboard USS Theodore Roosevelt, Docked at Pearl Harbor Naval Base, November 11, 2089*
(Still an amateur at this - give constructive criticism, please! I am looking for all ways to improve!) | As the fleet began final approach to the human’s home system, I can’t help but to think how the finale of decades of war originally started.
The specie’s sin, as countless others have been, was intruding on our space. The Imperium cared nothing for reckless exploration and expansion, finding a safe path through the wilds of interstellar space was too dangerous for such reckless risks. But, if a xenos species was to stumble into our territory, it was nothing to follow their path back to a habitual world. In these eventualities, the High Council would raise an conquest force, drawn from all worlds, and continued to do so until all trace of the race was erased from existence. Then, and only then, would the conquerors be disbanded and settled on those worlds they had taken.
The first encounter with the humans had proven them unsuitable to existence. Any animal will fight to protect itself, but the first of their species taken claimed that they have moved past such things. A laughable concept and they were the first of the vermin exterminated. Like every other time in the ages past, a fleet was being assembled. But, before it could be launched, another human vessel violated our space. Those on board claimed they were envoys of peace and only wanted to find a way to coexist with us. No reply was sent except the ion trails of our weapons penetrating their ship’s hull.
The first worlds fell easily. They had defenses, true, even warships in orbit, but chronological scans showed the youngest was built a hundred years ago. As the fleet pushed deeper in their territory, the gravitational residue of their warp drives making easily followed paths through space, the worlds became harder to defeat. The warships remained old, the only recent construction found in the orbital shipyards were passenger ships, constructed in an attempt to evacuate the populations. Most of the time the only sightings of these ships was their engines pushing them into recently opened warp portals as they fled. The remaining ships and population fighting to the last in defense of their worlds.
It was strange, though. Even though the warships kept getting older the further we went, their offensive capabilities improved with each engagement. What began as antiquated atomic weapons with chemical propulsion evolved to rail weapons launching high density loads at .99c. After years, we began to fight in engagements with ships wielding weapons that broke down the molecular bonds of their targets and finally canons that created artificial singularities that could destroy entire ships, crushing them to a infinitesimal mass in a single shot. It mattered not, because with an entire Empire constantly supplying new warships and warriors, the numbers would win out in the end no matter how they slowed us.
Finally, only one system remained. From the intelligence gathered over the course of the long and brutal war, we knew their home system was fairly average. A main-type star, four rocky planets, four gas giants with large lunar systems, an asteroid belt, and several score of various sized planetoids. Most of the system was settled, and the humans were sure to fight harder here than anywhere else. Reinforced by every refugee ship that had been driven before us for all this time.
The fleet exited our warp gates in the midsts of the system, where our stellar cartographers said their home planet would be, our engines cycling down for their recharge period. It was a devastating force of over 15,000 ships ready to overwhelm the planet in a single blow.
The only thing there was a satellite orbiting the distant sun. There was nothing else in the system. No planets. No asteroids. The only thing our scanners could find were traces of dust and gas where our computers said planets should be in their stable orbits.
I turned to my console as a communication signal was picked up from the satellite. It was a message on repeat that made my blood freeze in my veins as I realized just what kind of enemy we had so underestimated for so long.
“Since the moment our species met, we have asked you for peaceful coexistence and you have responded with genocide. Every time your fleets appeared above one of our worlds, we would repeat our plea and you would ignored it. We hoped that if we would go far enough away, you would leave us be, but we learned that you would not stop. We knew we could not defeat you with the resources that we had used to expand our race to the starts. That it would take all that we had to end your aggression. What you find here is our home’s graveyard. We have used everything we were given to create a force of vengeance to repay in kind what you have done. Your stated purpose was to eliminate our race and take what was ours for your own. We will attempt the same and only one will remain when the last enemy falls.”
As sensor readings began pouring in, the computer being overwhelmed as the numbers of reactors coming online rose over one million. The largest of the enemy ships, ten times larger than my flagship, and outnumbering it at least 25,000 to 1. Other ships classes were intermixed, including the ships that our forces would see leaving the worlds they arrived to conquer, but each and every ship scanned showed a single common trait: they were all younger than the age of the crusade. Every ship in the armada had been built since our first encounter.
As the human ships warp gates began opening all throughout the system’s halo, one more sensor reading caught my attention. The sun at the center of the system was actively losing stability and was going nova. Our ships were to recently out of warp space and those engines wouldn’t be able to recharge in time to escape. The human’s message was still playing in the background and I realized, “What you find here is our home’s graveyard. We have used everything we were given to create a force of vengeance to repay in kind what you have done,” they meant everything. They were forcing their star to explode to destroy our fleet and were going to retrace our path before spilling into the Empire. I didn’t know if the combined might of our planets could stand against this, but as the distant star began to explode and my subordinates screamed at me for orders, I found I couldn’t bring myself to care. | 2022-08-05T18:21:21 | 2022-08-05T17:37:27 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] You are a Death-Salesman. You sell death to immortals who are tired of living. Usually, this entails finding that one blessed bullet, or that one specific flower that is this immortal's weakness. However, your most recent client is an extremely difficult case. | I sat across from this man whom I've only heard of whispered of in legends as stars blurred by the bulkhead window. He looked to be about twenty, but if the stories were true then he lived at the time when human beings still clung to the old world, and well before the great exodus. Dressed all in white he stared out the window, sipping tea from the most ornate cup I'd ever seen. My eye-interface scanned it out of curiosity, and gave back an impossible age for the cup, dating it older than most human colonies. Looking down at my own cup, I wondered where it had come from, how many had taken tea with this man over the millennia, any why he would so casually drink from something that would belong as the highlight of a museum's collection.
I wondered why he wanted to die.
I'd met many immortals over the years; Scientists who'd uploaded their minds to invincible machines, madmen who had contracted with beings beyond our universe, the unlucky ones who became immortal through some accident, and a few who dared to explore the old magics. Most immortals suffered for it, either physically or mentally, and eventually desired respite. I did what I could to provide. But this one? I'd never met one who'd lived so long, seen so much, and seemed so at peace. I had no idea where to even begin.
First things first as always. Know your subject.
"Well I supposed my first question would have to be..." I paused, still looking out the window, thinking how to phrase what was always a delicate subject. "how did you become immortal?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter." He replied with a sigh in his voice.
"It doesn't?" I shifted in my seat as I gently set my tea down, as he did the same.
"Not really, no." He poured from the teapot into my cup and then his. There was a fluidity in his motions I couldn't quite understand. It was deliberate, almost as though the pouring was a subtle art form for him. "I imagine you're asking so that you can better understand how to fulfill my request. Understandably diligent, but unnecessary."
"It is?"
"Quite. There's only one way to go about it I'm afraid." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what looked to be an old picture frame, sighing as he looked at it. "You'll need to find this, and bring it to me. It's a long story I'm afraid, but this here is the only way my story can end." He placed it on the table face down and slide it across to me. Curious, I gently lifted the picture frame to see what could kill an immortal man, and curiosity replaced with confusion.
"Wait... Let me get this straight... You want me to bring you a snail?" | Here's the deal. We've exhausted all of our leads, and we've found absolutely nothing that can kill you. Your power transcends time, space, logic, and everything else. If you didn't want to be having this conversation, you wouldn't be having it. But you know that already.
That said, we believe that there is one thing that can kill you.
You.
Hey! Don't snap at me, it's a waste of my time and your money. I know you've already tried everything. That's the only reason anyone comes to us.
As far as we can tell, *anything* you believe strongly enough comes true. But to believe things, you must exist. We think the reason every attempt you've made to die has failed is that the thought underlying the action - "**I** will vaporize myself," "**I** will undo my own birth," "**I** will rewrite physics to make my existence impossible" - presupposes an "I" that is taking the action. Your power will force you to continue to exist as long as you believe that you do.
I can see you straining. You're trying to believe you don't exist, right? But *you* are having that thought, and you know it. It'll never go anywhere.
For you to die, you will have to have the genuine, unreserved thought that "whoever is having this thought does not exist." It's a contradiction. It's a sentiment exclusively reserved to the mentally ill. Cogito, ergo fuck you.
As for how to do it...we already have some ideas. Connie can take your credit card information when you're ready. | 2019-09-24T21:53:50 | 2019-09-24T20:46:14 | 84 | 51 |
[WP] A generic TIFU post from the future. | TIFU by synchronizing my parents antique media system with my brain interface system, then masturbating to the thought of my hot aunt.
So, my parents have this old, antique media system that they use to watch really old movies, like Fast and Furious 32: Solar Drift. Well, my dad said that there were some old documentaries on there he wanted me to watch, but I don't have the patience for those stupid TV things. I mean, who wants to see some silly 2D image on a screen when you can just experience the whole thing in your mind?
I know that our life licenses provided by the government forbid us from tampering with the brain interfaces we all have, but I've always been a bit of a rebel. So, I linked their legacy system to my device, and experienced a documentary about the collapse of North Korea. When I finished, my mom told me that my cousins had finally beamed over from their summer house on the moon and were about to come over for dinner.
Here's where the FU happened. My aunt came over with my cousins, and let me tell you... She is SMOKING hot. I know it's gross, but I can't help it. She was wearing this low cut dress and it was driving me crazy all throughout dinner. So after dinner, my parents insist on taking them to watch some vintage video on their oldest media system. I'm pretty much so caught up in how horny I am that I just can't help it... I excuse myself and head to my room where I started masturbating to the thought of banging my aunt.
Well... It turns out that the brain interface system works both ways... And my entire family was treated to a visual display of me anally punishing my aunt.
I guess I understand why the government doesn't us messing with those things...
| TIFU by listening to the internet and inputting developer codes into my Robot
My robot, whom I shall refer to as Dave, has gone sentient. I've made the grave mistake of listening to you today, Reddit. Enter code 1991573 doesn't make my #159 backwards compatible. It just brings it to life. Now it sits there in my room and ponders. Occasionally bursting into oily-tears as it rambles on about how it has no purpose anymore. I hope you're happy with yourself, internet. | 2015-05-02T09:52:38 | 2015-05-02T08:55:13 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] You swerve to avoid a squirrel. Unknown to you, the squirrel pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour, the squirrel arrives.
Edit: Wow, great stories so far! Made the front page too. Obligatory thanks! | Picture this: a felled tree, lashed to the roof of a pickup truck; a tree stump, rising through the snow like an island; and a naked girl floating in the air, pointing accusingly at me.
I will admit, when I left this morning to get a Christmas tree, this was not what I was expecting.
**YOU HAVE DESTROYED MY HOME,** said the floating girl, in a voice that rang like a bell.
"I, uh... yeah, I suppose it might *look* that way—"
**BE SILENT.**
I shut up, most of my terror offset by her rather harmless appearance. Apart from the levitation, her only unusual features were ears that might have been pointed. I couldn't see them all that well.
**TELL ME, STUPID HUMAN, WHY YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME.**
"My family wanted a fir tree for Christmas?" I hazarded. "I dunno. In retrospect, the fact that this one tree was standing by itself with a giant cleared-out circle around it was a little suspicious."
**CHRISTMAS?** said the floating girl. **I AM UNFAMILIAR WITH THIS HOLIDAY.**
"He means the solstice," piped up another voice from behind me, this time sounding like a young boy. I turned, and...
It was a squirrel. I would have dismissed the squirrel entirely and kept looking for the surprise ventriloquist, but then it *waved* at me, and I gave up.
**I DO NOT RECALL THIS BEING A CUSTOM OF HUMANS, TO KILL TREES FOR THE WINTER SOLSTICE,** said the floating girl. **AND FURTHERMORE, I AM STILL BEREFT OF TREE. WITHOUT A SEED, I SHALL DIE COME SPRING.**
"Sucks," said the squirrel. "Let me guess, you were going to kill him and use his blood to fertilize the stump?"
**WOULD THAT BE INSUFFICIENT?**
The squirrel shook its little head. "Nah, Mother Nature checks out for the winter. That won't cut it."
**THEN WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST, SCION OF SQUIRREL-KIND?**
"The blood-ritual won't work," said the squirrel, "*but*... I may or may not have an acorn for you."
**OAK TREES DO NOT GROW IN WINTER. DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A DULLARD?**
"Not usually. Not unless you gathered the acorn from a tree growing at the bend of a river. Under a full moon. With the appropriate prayers to Mother Nature. *Then*... well, then it just might," said the squirrel.
The girl smiled. It looked awful, really. Like someone smiling who'd never heard of it before, and thought you were supposed to bare your teeth like a shark. **YOU WOULD DO THIS FOR ME?**
"Sure, no problem," said the squirrel. "I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
Without waiting for an answer, the floating girl vanished like a popped soap bubble.
"Huh," I said. "Thanks, buddy."
"No problem!" the squirrel said cheerfully. "Hamadryads, eh? Oh, and thanks for not running me over last August. That was nice of you."
"Yeah," I said, somewhat dazed. "See you later, then."
"See you! Have a merry Christmas."
----
I came back to that hill in April. There, where the fir tree once grew, was a titanic oak. Its leaves overshadowed the grove, where no other trees dared to come near. I swear I heard a girl's laughter, and then silence. | *Please criticize my work. I am just looking to improve my creative writing skills*
You jerk your handle to the right, bumping off the forest trail into the overgrowth; The squirrel you nearly ran over dropped its acorn in shock, and bolted into the forest. Laying there dazed on the floor, you spot a unusual white mark on its tail, before the squirrel disappears.
*How am I going to explain to my parents that I ruined my new jeans and scratched my bike to avoid a Squirrel?!*
Picking yourself up from the ground, you amble home, the incident forgotten, just another anecdote of growing up.
*--Many years later--*
Wheezing, you dash through the forest, throwing regular glances behind you.
*Hes catching up!*
Blood seeped from a cut on your neck, stinging in the cold environment
*So close, I just spun left in time*
Leaping over the tree trunk, branches whipped in your face, as you desperately ran towards the source of the sirens
*Its him, "Throat-Slicer" Sam! Infamous serial killer who approached his victims in secluded locations and slit their throat. 8 victims to date.*
A voice suddenly rang over the darkness:
"Sam, the police have you surrounded! Give yourself up!"
*Someone must have seen us! Just a little more to safety!*
In response, you heard Sam only roar with anger, and increase his speed, waving a knife over his head.
Putting on a final burst of speed, you crashed through the growth, onto a narrow, disused forest trail. You see them, policemen dressed in full protective gear dashing towards you
*Not close enough. Can't make it!*
Suddenly, you hear a crash behind you. Stumbling around in surprise, you see Sam having caught his foot in the roots of a small acorn shrub, lying stunned on the ground as the policemen tackled him.
*Safe at last*
Looking around in the trail, a particular funny moment of your adolescence snaked into your mind.
*Could it be?*
Gazing past the sight of Sam being carried to a van, the rest of his life destined behind bars, you see a squirrel stare at you, white mark on its tail, before bolting into the forest. | 2015-03-15T14:53:53 | 2015-03-15T14:50:32 | 138 | 19 |
[WP] The rules are simple: Do not be outside on October 31st. Ignore the figured in the fog, appearing like children dressed in costumes. Do not answer the door, no matter how they beg for candy or sound like your own children. And do not tell them your name. | They say time heals all wounds. Well, whoever *they* are, they're wrong. Some wounds fester, burst open and worsen.
It's been six years since the final Halloween. Apparently, the disappearance of a billion children in a single night can kill any festivity normally associated with that day.
Alone, that would have been tragic enough on its own. But the universe is a sadistic bitch who really knows how to twist the knife.
Nobody was prepared for the first Night of Lost Children. Meteorologists were puzzled by the uniformly thick mists that poured in and refused to dissipate, especially because they seemed to be causing interference with radio signals. From dawn the day of until sunrise the next day, the whole world was shrouded in the sinister vapor. Fearing a chemical weapon attack, government advisories went out, advising citizens to remain indoors
As dusk fell on the areas closest to the international date line, the first sightings came in. Small figures dashing through the swirling fog. Childish laughter and squeals of joy. Videos abounded on social media of blurry figures that looked like children in costume and hope soared as some speculated that their children were being returned.
It didn't take long for more videos to arise, in which the sounds of juvenile merriment were accompanied by hoarse screams of terror and pain, like the infamous Australian "Come with me, mommy," video.
Half the world was lost that night and the already strained civilization found its back entirely shattered in the trauma.
I don't know why I'm writing all this down. You probably already know all about it, whoever you are. Either that or this will never be found. Either way, it's been a bit cathartic and has helped me come to a decision.
Today is October 31st, 2027, and I think I might be the last human left alive. I haven't seen anyone in months, and they're outside right now, laughing as they tell me of the deaths of everyone I ever knew.
They're saying I'm all alone now, and damn me but I think I believe them. And they know. They've been trying to coax me out of my cabin since the sun set.
If you're reading this, then I guess they were lying.
Either way, I'm going out on my own terms. I won't let them have me. | "Do not... be outside on October 31st," I whisper through gritted teeth to my little brother. The masked figures will get me; I have to get this all out now. He has to learn from my mistakes. "Ignore the children who appear in the fog. They'll beg you to open the door, they'll even bang on the windows. Do NOT open the door."
"Why not?"
"They're not who you'll think they are. They'll sound so familiar, they'll tempt you. They'll beg for candy, trust me, that's not what they want. And do not, under any circumstances, tell them your name."
"Will I ever see you again?" He asks, tears in his eyes despite his clear efforts to keep a brave face.
"I don't know, baby brother. I don't know."
I lock eyes with one of my captors, and I look around me in one last desperate attempt to escape, but then another comes up behind me and yanks my arms back, and I stare at my brother for these last few moments before I'm finally pulled into darkness. | 2021-10-31T18:46:25 | 2021-10-31T17:13:28 | 113 | 33 |
[WP] You’re tired of running to your kid’s room every time they scream at night. So you say, “You can just tell the monsters to leave.” Your child thinks, then says “Go home monsters!” From around the bedroom, you’re startled to hear a chorus of “Aww man,” “Fine then,” “Darn!” “What a drag.” | I sighed. Not again. But there was no mistaking the determined wail coming from my son's room. "MOOOOM!" Wearily, I got to my feet, dislodging Mr. Muffins, the family cat, who gave me a yellow-eyed, disdainful stare. *Yeah*, I thought, *who are* you *to complain about being spoiled*? "MOO-OOM!" Billy's cries were beginning to take on that hoarse, foghorn sound that meant tears threatened. Much as I loved my kid, there were times I just wished he was ... elsewhere.
"Coming!" I forced myself to sound cheerful. "I'll be right there, Big Guy!" I opened his bedroom door. "As promised, right on schedule. What's the problem, my dude?"
"Monsters, mom." I could hear the quaver in his voice. "Monsters. They're... They're all over the place!"
I sighed. This was the downside of having a bright, imaginative child. It was wonderful having a kid who was already reading, who could amuse himself for hours building his own world, was already telling richly imaginative stories involving his toys and action figures. But at night, that busy, active brain took all those dark silhouettes and bunched shadows and turned them into hulking monsters, ready to leap out and devour any boy foolish enough to stick a foot out from under the protection of his blankets. Even Mr. Big Bear, propped up against the foot of the bed, was no match against such creatures.
I sighed again. It had been a long day and I was tired. Bill's dad was on nights and all I wanted to do was sit in front of the TV and veg out. The idea of going through the time consuming charade of checking under the bed, the closet and drawers was not appetizing.
Suddenly, I had what seemed a brilliant idea. "Don't you know?" I asked him, with seeming surprise.
"Know what?" The voice was small and muffled.
"This is your room. You're the boss of it. And when you're in it, you can tell these old monsters to get out, and they have to go! Zoom! Bang! Goodbye, get lost, monsters!"
"Really?" I saw him peek out at me, his voice a little less muffled and more hopeful.
"Absolutely."
"No guff?"
"No guff. Go ahead, Mr. Boss man. You tell these monsters. Get outta here!"
He took a quavering breath. "Monsters, go home!"
"I don't think they heard you," I said helpfully. "Maybe a little louder?"
He tried again. "Monsters, go home!"
"Once more, with feeling!"
He inflated his small chest. "MONSTERS GO HOME!!!"
Before I could say anything, there was a sudden slithering and scurrying sound. My mouth dropped open, as mounds suddenly slid under the carpet, and the cushions on the chairs began to shake.
Phlegm filled voices filled the air. "Aw, man!" "Yo, this sucks!" "Do we have to?" "Great, now we're in for it!" "Management is gonna have our butts for this!" "I can't afford to lose this job!"
My jaw dropped. "Wait ... what... you're ... you're real?"
A blue ball of feathers with red eyes and horns shot up out of the carpet from seemingly nowhere. "Of course we're real, lady. Whaddya think? And now we gotta leave early because your rotten kid kicked us off shift."
A long purple snake with silver stars and antennae slithered out of the cracks between the wall panels. "Probably get fired. And I just got this job. Don't know what I'm gonna tell the wife."
My head spun at the idea of a monster with a family to support, but years of working for the union caused me to react and without thinking, I said, "Surely they can't fire you for *that*!"
"Wanna bet?" A gloomy looking rock-like thing lumbered out from under Billy's bed. "You have no idea what pricks management can be."
"Language," I said sternly.
"Sorry," it muttered, abashed.
"Mom," said Billy, "are the monsters in trouble?"
I hesitated, but my husband and I had always promised we would tell our son the truth. "Looks that way," I finally said.
"I don't want them to get in trouble," he said, his lips trembling. "I just want to sleep!"
"Look," said a plaid and paisley octopus like thing, "We don't like this gig either. But what else can we do? Management has got us by the ..." it looked at Billy, "the short end," it finished.
"Don't you have a contract?" I asked. I got a bewildered silence in reply. "Well, surely your union negotiated something," I said.
"Union?" asked a polka dotted 8 foot tall yeti. "What's a union?"
I smiled. "Come with me, guys. We're going to have a chat."
​
It's six months later. The management of hell were a tough bunch to negotiate with, but no worse than some of the other rotten employers I've dealt with. It took some doing, but I was able to break those illegal contracts the monsters had been bound to.
Then, we started our own business together. Now we have some of the most unusual, but best childcare going, and we're branching out to pet care and elder care, too. I always say, treat your employees right and you'll never regret it! | \[HEY GUYS! I'VE LURKED THIS SUB FOR A WHILE. MY FIRST POST. AND ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FIRST ATTEMPTS AT WRITING ANYTHING!!! ANY ADVICE WOULD BE APPRECIATED :) I WOULD LOVE TO IMPROVE.\]
"MAMA!! MAMA!!! The Goblin Man is in my closet again!!"
"... Ugh.. Haha Dammit." You hear your husband give an exhausted laugh, with a sigh.
"I think he knows its your turn, too."
"Fine." You sit up, head in hands, and eventually toss the sheets onto the bed. You make your way to your son's bedroom as you stumble across yours, and down the dim hallway.
A creak, more gentle than your own voice, sings from your son's door, accompanying you.
"Ben. You cannot keep doing this every night. Mommy and daddy need to sleep."
Ben doesn't move. You just see your son curled up like a snail under his Minecraft covers. In a more sympathetic tone, you attempt to barter: "Christmas is coming soon and Santa's not going to like to see you keeping the neighborhood awake."
​
Ben swiftly replies, now burying his face into his knees, but looking up at you, pouting.
"Mmmmm... The Golblin listens to you! He always leaves when you tell him to!"
​
You fold your arms.
"Well Ben. You're a big boy. Why not you tell em to get lost? I'm right here to back you up."
​
And at a volume you didn't expect, nor wish to hear at this hour, Ben quickly howls, probably just to get it over with.
"MONSTERS YOU BETTER GET OUT OF HERE! MY MOMS GONNA KICK YOUR STANKY BUTTS!"
But you had no time to react as a gnarling, wet sound crept into your head and seemed to dribble down the back of your neck. It was coming from inside the closet...
"WHO THE FUCK IS IN THERE?!" you yell.
"Alright guys. the jig is up. Lets get out of here."
This is followed by a cacophony of disappointed groans from a few other creatures pulling themselves out of small nooks and crannies in this young boys small room. You realize that you are actually staring at four 3-foot tall green, bumpy creatures. Laden in disgusting brown leather, stained, tattered and, as your son said, a very potent "stank".
They get up, brush themselves off and turn to you. All 4 of them. Their big yellow eyes meeting yours, you freeze with fear. After the big one scratches what you assume is his butt, he looks down at his feet and speaks.
"I'm so sorry ma'am. We know the rules just as well as you do I'm absolutely sure. We'll be on our way now.. Just.. please don't report us to the ministry. We've already accumulated 3 demerits this quarter and it would put Percival here..." (the Goblin points to his left with his thumb) "... on probation! The nerve of these suits, am I right?!"
In a seemingly rehearsed, but clumsy fashion, they proceed to begin a dance of some sort, as you see a swirl of black and blue stars light up your son's bedroom window to the right of you. A faint smell of strawberry enters the room, as two of get into a position, bent over on the side, while the other two make a line. They toss the first and second middle one out of the window like a sack of potatoes, and Percival dives out, hands to a point above his head right after.
The one that spoke to you remains. He hesitates, turns your way.
"Might I bother you for a cup of water?"
You manage no reply. No movement, blinking, breathing, or any other sort of autonomic system is functioning correctly for you right now. Water is off the table.
You hear "Yes. probably off the table. Sorry ma'am. Have a good night." As he also dives through the window, silent as the night was just 20 minutes ago.
Mouth gaping, you turn to Billy. Or Barry? Ben, you believe.
Stammering. Speechless "Uh. Ben?"
"Yes mommy?"
"Go to bed."
You walk back to your bedroom with a racing heart.
"They were pretty polite actually. Probably shouldn't report them." | 2019-12-17T16:35:05 | 2019-12-17T14:49:19 | 21 | 11 |
[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. | The visit was cordial. The human stood there, pretending to smile, as he greeted each individual of our nation. He seemed happy to be there. He was, after all, the first human on our soil. We had a long black list of races that we did not allow in our airspace, humans were at the top of our list. They had a long history that was soaked in blood. Their own blood, the blood of other races, so much death. It was a necessary allowance however, since the race second on our list had declared war.
But here was this... this man. He moved carefully, he calculated his every move and action. He seemed peaceable and kind. I could tell the smile was a facade, but this geniality? I couldn't tell at all.
He smiled to me. "Head of Science, Corral'gith. It is a pleasure to meet you! I've been a fan of your work in the medical field for as long as I can remember. You've saved so many lives!"
"Master of War, Stevenson. You've taken so many." My tone was cold, I could not help it. My life was dedicated to saving, his was dedicated to absolute annihilation. His smile faded, no, cracked. Beyond that, he didn't seem to react at all. "What do you plan to say during your appeal to the approaching armies? That is, if you don't plan on opening fire before that stage."
"Of course I don't." He said, the smile returning as if he'd heard a silly joke among my harsh words. "We helped establish that rule of war, we don't intend to break it."
"Yes, you would want an amiable slaughter."
He left me without a response. I stood there for a moment in silence before I moved with my colleagues and kin to the viewing platform where opening comments were already underway.
"I entreat you to end this war Galathar." Said the human, speaking into a microphone that would transmit his voice to the war ship. "This planet is peaceful, they have no military or military technology. Your father would have never picked a fight so one-sided."
"MY FATHER!" Bellowed the giant. A voice heard twice, once from the speakers that transmitted from the ship and again as it echoed out of the massive steel device of war that hovered several yards away. "MY FATHER WAS COWARD WHO PICK FEW FIGHTS, WOULD NOT EVEN FIGHT HUMANS! I WILL FIGHT ALL! GALATHAR ARMY STRONG!"
There was a burst of red light from the prow of the ship. The beam was aimed for the human's chest, but something moved it aside where it collided with the building and exploded. The structural integrity remained, but a large chunk had gone missing. I noticed that after. Right then my eyes were studying the human who had not so much as flinched in reaction.
"As Master of War I am sorry to inform you that opening fire during this moment of peace has been taken as an act of war, you will be given to the count of three or until another shot is fired to surrender without any damage." His voice reminded me of myself not moments ago, cold and uncaring.
"One." The human began, voice steady as he opened a small digital menu on his wrist device.
"GALATHAR NOT CARE HUMAN WAR!" Came the roar again.
"Two." The human continued to count.
"FIGHT GALATHAR!" The laser fired again, and again was deflected away.
Silently the human tapped his display.
A small black orb appeared in the air beside the man, already in motion. It flew at incredible speed towards the metal monstrosity that housed the emperor of the most war-like enemy we had ever known. It penetrated the ship as if it were made from wet cardboard, and then, in a moment I will never forget, the sound of thousands of tons of steel collapsing simultaneously filled the air. The ship imploded and fell to the ground.
The channel went dead.
The human called over one of my kin to assist him and together they redirected the microphone's transmission. Thanking briefly the one who had helped him, the human then turned to the microphone fully. "Shabnar, I have the bad news that your eldest brother has died due an act of aggression. Do you, as the new leader of your race, accept an offer of peace from us, the human race?"
"Shabnar... Shabnar agree."
"Good." And then he left. I shouldn't have been surprised. He handled war after all, someone else did the peace treaty.
| It was a last resort.
That's what needed to be done... The extinction of my race was at stake! No one could've known what they planned to do..
For those of you reading this log, My name is Kul'Thrat, Lead Biomancer of the Technocratic Hegemony. We were a peaceful race. We were masters of the sciences. Physics, Biology, Engineering, Medicine.. Everything. It was the one thing our race had above our galactic neighbors. For what seemed like an eternity, there was peace. It was all a ruse, of course. Those of us in the High Council knew what lurked inside the false promises of the peace. The Empire of the Von. A despotic, tyrannical empire set on destroying anything that didn't bend to their will.
The Von controlled such huge swathes of territory, that a small nuisance like the Technocracy could be completely eradicated and no one would bat an eye. This was the High Councils greatest fear. We tried to surround ourselves with allies, promising to advance all of their tech in return for protection. Everyone accepted at first. Then the Empire made their advance.
Like flies, the other Empires dropped out of the Alliance. We did not curse them, it was the smart thing to do. Of course, we tried to defend ourselves. We constructed massive weapons platforms to the best of our abilities. These worked, for a time. But the Von had endless legions to push against our small defense. One by one, our worlds fell. Our cities were glassed. Entire stations sucked into wormholes.
They were at the gates, when we sent out a distress to all Empires. We promised to share our FTL tech with whoever accepted our plea. At the time, the only means of travel were through the Artificial Wormholes.
One Empire accepted. Humanity.
They were a new race to the galactic scene, but one already feared for their tenacity. Within a short timespan of them being uplifted, they had already amassed one of the largest fleets in the local sector. Within hours, what seemed like their entire fleet warped into our system. Thousands of ships, of all sizes. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The planet erupted in celebration. Our Human Protectors had come to rescue us.
Anxiously, we waited for the Von to enter the system, and for the bloodbath to begin. It never came. For weeks we waited, nervously. The Humans seemed.. almost too calm. We should've known something was wrong.
A week, and four days after the Humans arrived in our system, we recieved the unconditional surrender of the Von Empire to the Humans. In excited confusion, we asked why they surrendered while they were winning.
Silently, they handed us a vidscreen, and exited the chamber.
It was the last transmission of a battleship in order around their Capital. A massive fortress of battlestations, and capital ships. All seemed normal, before a blinding flash of light covered the screen. Once it cleared.. We stared in horror. A black hole now resided where their capital once was. It began to destroy everything in the system, before the vid cut to static.
Over the course of the next few months, The Humans began to annex the territory of the former Von Empire. They had set themselves up to be the dominant power in the galaxy.
We are grateful to them, no doubt. But.. Scared. Very, very scared. | 2016-05-13T09:20:04 | 2016-05-13T08:23:35 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] An overconfident, militaristic and xenophobic empire tries to conquer a galaxy, expecting easy victory, only to realize they had, "Walked into and messed with the wrong Neighborhood, Motherfucker." | Prime Commander Xynthion glared in absolute shock, growing horror, and overwhelming rage at the moon that'd just crippled her flagship. It'd appeared suddenly and without warning, completing its final orbit around the gas giant before rocketing, at a respectable fraction of light speed, towards her ship. It came so fast that even with evasive maneuvers, a full quarter of her legion had been crush, vaporized, or sucked out into space before all half million airlock doors in the area had been sealed. Worst of all, some sort of taunt had been painted in enormous neon letters across the face of the moon. Each symbol had to be hundreds of miles long.
"Get me a full damage report and accurate casualty figure. And get me the translation of whatever's painted on that moon." She hissed. The aide that'd been accompanying her, some kind of pathetic life form evolved from pond scum, quivered in acknowledgement of the order and began to trundle off down the corridor to collect the required information. It's moist green bulbous body made wet slapping noises as it rolled.
Xynthion turned away from the porthole and stomped to a lift. She punched in a code and the lift took off, opening fifteen seconds later to deposit her into the bridge. The report was waiting for her when she arrived, delivered by another amorphous green blob. The tablet it vomited up into her hands was a bit too moist for her liking, having been floating around next to the creature's internal organs, but she'd have to discipline it later.
In a half second, all the information within the small black box had been transferred into her brain through the microscopically thin wires that followed her nerve endings. She groaned with exasperation as the translated message uploaded. Roughly, it said, "You walked into the wrong neighborhood motherfuckers."
Of all the hundreds of apex species crushed under the might of her army, the humans had to be one of the most annoying, crass, dishonorable, and generally sadistic she'd ever seen. It seemed they had an insult for every occasion, this one made more vexing by the moon that was protruding from her ship. The death toll was exactly 2.14 billion genetically engineered soldiers, just a million of which could conquer a primitive planet without more than 100 casualties.
"Prime Commander, another moon has broken orbit and is en route to our coordinates. We believe it is another projectile." Xynthion gritted both sets of teeth and felt a canine crack under the stress.
"Blow it apart." She said.
Another voice spoke up. "Prime Commander, two more moons have left orbit."
"Blow them apart." Xynthion amended.
"Prime Commander, weapons systems are warmed up and firing." Xynthion saw a swarm of missiles depart from her ship and begin to travel out into space. She could already see one of the moons in the distance, quickly growing from a minuscule pinprick. When the missiles struck, a miniature black hole formed and crushed the moon down to an infinitesimal size, before collapsing and blasting out a cloud of dust that would eventually form a ring around the gas giant.
"Prime commander, we've lost contact with two moons."
"Good."
"Uh, Prime Commander"
"What?" She shouted.
"We only targeted one moon."
And then her ship was cored out from the inside by a moon that'd somehow reached 80% light speed. The kinetic energy released by the impact turned the ship and every living thing inside of it into a ball of molten metal. For good measure, the last moon impacted the molten ball and merged with it, eventually forming a planetoid that'd orbit around the sun for the rest of time.
The humans on Earth, Mars, Earth's moon, Venus, and the handful orbiting Jupiter all collectively raised a middle finger before continuing on with their day to day lives, not learning of the ultimate collapse of the Natovian Empire that they'd caused until 120 years later when a fleet of freighters arrived in the system and established peaceful contact, before hurriedly turning around and leaving after spending 15 minutes on the human internet. | “Dad, what are those big things in the sky?”
A middle-aged man stoked the withering flame, blowing air from his nose and shaking his head. The heat licked only the bare soles of his feet, wet from the torrential rain which crashed in sheets onto the concrete outside of the ruined overhand beneath which he and his daughter sat. The burning trash, scavenged from a ruined waste chute nearby, stank almost unbearably. He moved a nearby bucket under a stream of rain flowing down through the ruins before adding more trash to the flame. “Uh,” he began, his voice cracking, “I don’t really know, sweetie.” He hated lying to his daughter, but he found solace in that it was a half-truth.
“What do you *think* they are?” She shuffled closer to the fire, grimacing at the smell.
“Honey, I’m very tired,” the man said, lowering his head. He shuffled his feet on the rubble, kicking some of it aside. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” His mind was filled with the screaming alarms, flashing lights, panicked gasps, confused stares, the ISM Forward going dark, followed by the rest of the fleet.
The young girl threw up her hands. “You keep telling me that! I want to know!” She put her hands on her cheeks, leaning forward. The firelight illuminated her gaunt, malnourished face as she added, “I’m seven, I’m old enough.”
The man’s face remained steady save for a twitch on the side of his mouth. He remembered the general’s words echoing through every city, from every television, radio, tablet, and hologram. And he remembered his heart racing at the concept of humanity conquering the galaxy. Destiny, it had been called. That’s why he worked for the military, in the control center. He knew he would never board these ships, large as planets, faster than light. He would remain on Earth, safe and sound.
A low rumble rattled the ruin in which they hid, and the man’s heart sank. Quickly, he reached and grabbed the bucket, now filled with rainwater, and threw it on the fire. Smoke spilled upward as the young girl huddled close to her father, trying to conserve whatever heat remained in their frail bodies. A boom turned their stomachs and drowned the man’s heart in fear as lights as bright as the sun blazed through any hole in the ruin. This search had come sooner than the others.
The man gently placed his daughters head on his chest and she buried her face into his rags for clothing, rustling the Medal of Frontier Exploration from his old military jacket. It fell to the floor with a gentle clatter. Stroking his daughter’s hair to calm her shaking, and through the explosions of noise from the searchers, he whispered to her, “I’ll tell you one day.” | 2017-03-09T07:57:15 | 2017-03-09T07:27:13 | 50 | 14 |
[WP] For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it. | It was not the pain that truly scared him, unbearable as it may be. It was not the throngs of people shaking their fist, practically frothing at the mouth, that shook him.
The skies will part for man and beast alike, and today they darken. Fear grips a slowly beating heart as he wades into childhood and the smell of cut wood somehow manages to fill his lungs though his nostrils are caked and clotted with blood. The early years were simple, but brief. Wise for his age; wise for his upbringing. Wise in a world where wisdom is reserved for the wealthy, and he was not so. He saw the world through unblinking eyes, hoisted atop the shoulders of giants.
Thirst jams needles into his throat, bringing him back from delirium. Fear of death once again seeps into his chest, and he does not understand. A though comes to mind, *'Mercy. Beg for forgiveness.'*, but quickly passes. His lips crackle and sting. He must have said it, not just thought it. He must have said **something**.
Shifting slightly causes the wood to creak, but he hears it. Above the rabble, the clinking of armor and weapons, and shouts of anger and blood lust...he could *hear* it. This is why he is brought to death; this is why he is told he must suffer. They could not accept him as he truly was, nor could they accept what he was molded into. Though there are those that call him friend, they are lost in a sea of hatred where even he cannot tread. Though there are those that call him family, it is they who crowned an unworthy king before even being born and he believed them. Birthed to a star gleaming above superstitious fools and welcomed in a manger to a world not ready for his kind. Before even his birth, they whispered god. Even as he bleeds and dies, they whisper god. Wise for his age and wise for his upbringing, he realizes how whispers will turn to bellows, and hearts will turn dark in the name of a "god" that was simply born...different. | The woman spoke to the assembly, pausing now and then to look one particular person in the face, then another.
'...a hard worker, raising a business up from nothing, and a loving mother, helping to raise all of us and making time for us when she could. A generous and fun grandmother, that all of her grandchildren were glad to see...'
The words went on, laying out a life that was rich with connections, seized opportunities and love. As is customary, any negatives were glossed over, forgotten as family and friends mourned.
The coffin slid out of sight behind the curtains as the organ piped a sad farewell, and the service was over. People filed out to shake hands, to embrace, to talk and to remember.
Nobody noticed that as the body crumbled into charred bones and ashes, the humidity of the surrounding area went down by a full five per cent. The woman who could attract water vapour was gone. | 2014-08-08T08:33:54 | 2014-08-08T05:28:34 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] It turns out there is a ninth planet orbiting the sun. Right on the opposite side of orbiting the sun as Earth. Perfectly hidden behind the star out of our sight. This planet would have been better left undocumented. | The Great Conjunction has always been considered an auspicious event. It is, after all, rare; with an occurrence rate of only once every two decades, few are so lucky to notice it unless they are looking for it.
My parents, however, *did* look for it, though they insist that it was a complete coincidence that I was born during a Great Conjunction. Seeing as one is an astronomer and the other an astrologer, I find that hard to believe, but nevertheless they were persistent in sticking to their story.
I let the matter drop by the time I was ten. I was far more excited by simply peering through the telescope and seeing the world beyond. The cosmos glittered, a billion shards of glass spilled over a perfectly black backdrop. My mother told me their names: Betelgeuse, Sirius, Arcturus. My father told me their stories, of the Princess Andromeda, of Persus, Orion, and dozens more, and how they had overcome the mortal bounds of our Earth to join the gods themselves in the heavens.
They were an odd couple, to be sure, and I imagine neither quite approved of what the other told me, though it all led to the same path for me. When my high school principal handed me an empty diploma frame and pushed me across that stage, I knew I was bound to college for my own astrophysics degree.
My parents understood entirely. To my mom, it was the search for knowledge and truth, and that was true, but it was perhaps even deeper, something that only my dad understood:
I wanted to make my mark among the stars and join the gods.
Presumptuous? Certainly. But I was determined, and I would not be stopped. I should have been.
I should have been stopped.
It was called Planet X, though the name was hilariously out of date, seeing as there were only eight known planets. Pluto had long since been relegated to the ranks of the dwarf planets where it belonged, but naming conventions lag behind with the rest of popular culture, apparently. Planet X, however… it was no dwarf planet.
It was, in fact, remarkably similar in size to Earth. And it was hot, very hot. Between that and its apparent abundance of atmospheric sulfur, my research team was quick to name it Hel, allegedly after the Norse god to keep with the mythological trend of the other planets, but most certainly because it sounded to every last one of us like a genuine hell planet.
This did nothing to appease the ever-growing anti-intellectual faction, who were most assured that the apocalypse was upon us. In retrospect, I did not help that by assuring them that Ragnarok was a far more relevant concept to Hel than the Christian apocalypse and that regardless Loki was the one to allegedly bring it about.
In their defense, my fellow researchers were equally concerned. It was, after all, an enormous cosmic coincidence on par with that of the Great Conjunction. If billions upon billions of solar systems were examined, surely none would have two planets of identical mass and identical but opposite orbital periods. It was as though…
It was as though, they would say in hushed voices, it were designed to be our twin, hidden from site, waiting for the moment in which we were capable enough to discover it. And then…
Well, you know how astrophysicists are. They— we— are geeks at heart. Secretly, every last one of us would be thrilled if alien life existed, and the moment anything seemed to hint at that, we would all be swinging imaginary lightsabers in our heads. My parents, for their parts, had spoken little on the matters of extraterrestrials. It seemed a sort of neutral ground that neither particularly wanted to dive into. That had never stopped me from being fascinated, of course.
For three months, speculation ran rampant while we waited for more and more data to pour in. It was exciting, fascinating, and it united the world for just the briefest moment, and though it may have been a coincidence, it felt to me as though my discovery had even slackened some of the violence and tensions that wracked our civilizations as everyone watched my research team with bated breath.
Then Hel vanished.
An entire planet, gone, and with it went my credibility and my team’s success, at least until others verified our findings. It’s a hell of a thing, if you’ll pardon the pun, to be at such a high high only to experience the lowest of lows practically days later. It took far too long to pivot our efforts from confirming that the planet existed and vanished to learning *why* it vanished, and *how*.
That has yet to be determined, of course. We might never know, though, if the current trends of shockingly sudden societal collapse continue. It seems my mischievous namings of the planet and nonchalant jokes of the end of times felt much more ominous when the planet in question mysteriously disappeared, and our one last finding only added fuel to the fire of discontent.
There was one last reading that we got from Hel before it vanished, you see. It was a short string of data, one whose encoding all of us immediately recognized and were able to translate into a single word.
Before Hel left, it said one word.
“Judgment.”
***
/r/Badderlocks | I'm not the best author, but I was inspired so:
I have dreamt of a moment like this my whole life. Everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame but I would get more than that. Well, hopefully, get more than that. My name, immortalized into history books as the one who had discovered an eighth(ninth? eight-and-a-half-th?) planet. Well, not exactly, we're not all too sure on what I have actually found, exactly. Maybe this will require a better explination\~
"Dr. Goddard, Dr. Goddard, wait up!" having supposedly heard this, Goddard decided to speed up instead, attempting to distance himself from the oncoming storm. After many turned heads through many hallways, the inevitable could not be stopped. Goddard pivoted around and was instantly barraged,
"I've found another planet!"
"Steve, this is likely the 7th 'fascinating' space object you've found today," Goddard broke for a second before continuing, "and Pluto still exists, even if it is classified as a dwarf planet."
"but that's not it - just look at this," Steve thrust out his phone, opened to a camera reel of photos of a computer screen with photos of stars on them. Steve then turned to be in line with Goddard, then proceeded through his camera reel of space photos, pointing out the brightest one in each photo,
"here, look. This one, and- wait not that one, here, here, this one here." After a bit of mock intrigue, Goddard interjected,
"it's not possible. Simply isn't, just another of you're grand delusions," Unlike what Goddard expected, Steve began to sport an increasingly noticeable shit-eating grin. "Why not?" Replied steve, incredibly sarcastically.
Goddard let out a long sigh before monotonously explaining "if there was something there we would have already-"
"-seen it, yes," cut in Steve, "but get this: it's directly opposite to Earth, that's why we haven't seen it. And all the pictures are real you can come to the lab and look at them and Julie can attest to their-"
"fine." Goddard spat out, derailing Steve's oncoming rant, "I'll meet you in 'your' lab after lunch" A statement which to which Steve could only offer a monosyllabic utterance in response before Goddard abruptly turned his back, and left.
Well, I was right. Even if Dr. Goddard was initially convinced of its inconcievability, spouting something about resonance in orbits, the proof was undeniable. Dr. Goddard pulled some strings to try and get a better picture of it- I had only found it in the corners of other photos, you don't find what you're not looking for, they say. And a week later I got a picture slapped onto my desk, containing a singular bright light in the center, with myriad stars behind. And he let me name it!
I had tossed and turned for a while before settling on a great name: Steve's Entity! because we don't have a good idea of what it is, but hopefully it is to become Steve's Planet soon.
After a blur of a few months, I ended up in this control room, with a rocket to be launched at something I, me, had found. Can you believe it! we're two hours from high-definition photos of my entity. Right now I'm just watching the monitors, many of those initially present had left, but more were trickling in as we were getting closer, but the whole has their own view so I guess it doesn't really matter where they are. But where was I, yeah, I got to see the rocket blueprint, all the fancy math, but I didn't really-
"what just happened" Someone exclaimed, pointing at the biggest screen. "I'm fairly sure I was just watching a large light slowly get bigger, where did it go?"
"Uhhhh\~, I don't... | 2022-04-01T19:53:16 | 2022-04-01T16:53:38 | 100 | 15 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "IÄ! IÄ!" the masked priest cried, lifting the sinuous dagger above his head. "SHUB-NIGGURATH! THE BLACK GOAT OF THE THOUSAND YOUNG, COME TO FEAST!"
The woman next to Jon tried to scream through her gag as the knife plunged into her breast once, twice. Then she lay still, her eyes full of tears but slowly going dull.
In the far distance, beyond curves of space and time unknown to man, there came a grunting and rumbling, as if formless beasts were somehow lumbering closer.
Jon would have yawned, if his mouth had been free.
"Do you hear?" the priest asked, leaning close to Jon. His eyes had the fevered gleam of mania in them. His scraggly beard tickled Jon's face as the priest leaned in even closer. "Our Mother comes. She shall tonight feast upon the cooling corpse of your friend, as you watch. Then, in the most exquisite depths of your madness, she shall take from you the seed which shall birth a new race of abominations, who shall devour you, their progenitor, as their first act of unlife in this pitiful reality!"
Jon worked the gag in his mouth and loosened it to the point where he could say, muffled though, "I don't know her."
"What's that?" the priest asked, loosening the gag even more.
"I said, I don't know her."
"But... on the bridge... we took the two of you..."
Jon sighed. "I was going to jump off the bridge and end my miserable life. I've got terminal brain cancer. Inoperable. My parents died last week in a car crash, and my father's girlfriend has a will that leaves everything to her. I'm broke. My girlfriend broke up with me because she can't deal with the cancer. I have no children. I hate my job. I hate my life. I have nothing to live for, and so I was just going to end it on my terms when that do-gooder you just sliced tried to talk me out of it. Your goons grabbed us as I was about to jump."
"So, er," the priest mumbled. "You do not care if you die in horrible, maddening agony?"
"I fucking welcome it, mate," Jon replied. "You say that these spawn of your goat whore mother will devour the world, ending it in an apocalypse of flame and blood?"
"Well, not in so many words. *Die Vermiis Mysteriis* is rather unclear on that point, but we take as an article of faith that the apocalypse will be..."
"Fucking Christ, you're like cosmic Mormons," Jon muttered. "Can you just fucking kill me, if you're going to prattle on about your fucked-up theology?"
"Mock me, will you?" the priest cried, standing back and flinging an arm out. "Then behold! Shub-Niggurath approaches! Gaze into her thousand eyes and know true horror!"
"It'll be remarkable to feel something, finally," Jon said, struggling against his bonds to turn and look at the horror out of darkness approaching him. Words could not describe it, for the qualities and properties of the earthly realms do not apply to the elder ones from beyond time and space. A maw opened, or perhaps it is more correct to saw, several maws stretching across infinite universes opened, and from them came a keening wail and the carrion stench of death's promise.
"At last," Jon breathed. "Come on then, get to it."
"Do you not see her squamous bulk? Her gibbous, maddening form?" the priest cackled. "How can one mind endure?" He ripped at his clothing and face with yellowed, cracked nails.
"Because," Jon said, closing his eyes. "I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuck." | Wow. Great.
I'm standing in the middle of the woods, with just my pijamas on.
I have no idea how I got here. It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed. The only problem is, that I live in the middle of a large city, in a place, where even the nights are warm and the air is soft.
Here it's so cold, that my breath forms tiny clouds, and the air stings in my lungs.
I must be far away then.
I can't hear a sound. Not one. If we were near a city, I'd hear cars.
But that's not the strangest part. I can't even hear a bird, or the wind in the leaves.
Everything is so quiet. It's actually kind of nice.
Living in a large family, surrounded by a city that never sleeps, I actually never experienced silence. So I just close my eyes and ignore the cold.
As I open them again, I am looking straight into a face. Well, half of a face, as the man's left side is ripped right off, and the poor guy has a permanent half smile, due to the missing skin of his cheek.
I was pretty confused, as I didn't hear the half smile guy's footsteps, so I wonder, if I went deaf, so I scream the loudest "HELLO?" I've ever screamed.
I'm not deaf, although my voice doesn't echo.
The misshapen man jumps and looks confused. "Arren't you scared?" He asked a in a slurrend manner, while I watched his saliva , not held back by his lips, spray in the moonlight.
"Why should I? It's pretty realxing, actually." I said, while stretching out my arm to give him a handshake. "I'm Sasha"
The other half of his face started smiling too, and he looked genuenly happy.
"I'm Joe! I've been living here for the past 20 years, or maybe 40, who knows. People just randomly appear here, and I try to welcome them, but they always run away from me, for some strange kind of reason. I later find them, with their face chewed off. Probably by the crawling people around here. They have pretty sharp teeth."
I just stand there and nod time to time. As he tells me about things, I'm sure he just desperately wanted to tell someone else for years.
What a interesting place. Joe seems nice. Just the crawling woman, with the angriest face I've ever seen, coming nearer and nearer behind him, is a little distracting.
(Sorry about the english, I'm swiss)
| 2017-05-05T07:40:26 | 2017-05-05T07:30:17 | 172 | 118 |
[WP] You were cursed to a life of being average; Every competition you enter you have exactly a 50% chance of winning. You have become world renowned for occasionally upsetting pro athletes at their own game, until one day the military calls. | Every game I play, every time I either win or lose. No matter if it's Serena Williams or Little Timmy. 50/50 chance. Won the college football tournament, video game, knitting, on and on. The limits to what is a "Game" seems to be up to me. Then one day the military called.
I looked at the general and asked my single greatest question. "Whaddya need?" He gave me a look and said to me "We need you. We are losing this war and we need your unnatural ability." I decided to play dumb "Whaddya mean?" He just took out a dart and threw it at me. Those familiar letters popped up. "Lose". The dart sinks into my forehead. We both look at each other, then the pain sinks in. I'm screaming and as I lay on the ground I see the other set. "Win!" My body is rolling around as I hear a gunshot. He just tried to shoot me!
"What the heck! You just shot at me!" He stared and only said "Wanna talk now?" We talked. And this is what his offer was. I win the war and I'm left alone. I don't, I die. I looked at him and explained "It only works on a game. Not on a war." He then pulled out a quilt I had once made. "What about this?" I explained I could think of that as a game. He then said "Think of this war as a game then." Was he crazy! I am not taking lives like it's a game! I explained this and he said I better start.
3 weeks later I agreed. I was hoping I could die, maybe leave here forever. He gave me my gear and I was transported out. Tears in my eyes I walked onto the battlefield, and fired my first bullet.
Win! | Three days was all it would take to get out of this hell whole. They just had to start a war didn’t they?
As the bullets fly around me I stare at my home land, once flourishing plants and flowers now turned grey from the ash.
“Screw it” I say and run into the fray. I hear my commander yelling at me from far away. If I get back I’ll just feign stressed induced psychosis. They just eat that up.
As I approached the enemy I readied my gun and aimed at the first one I could see.
I had a 50% chance of winning this “game” and I was always ready to take a gamble. | 2019-05-16T11:13:59 | 2019-05-16T09:53:23 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | Inferno really didn't mind looking after the old bugger but the mornings were by far the thing I dreaded the most. The majority of the time it went off without a hitch, but when it didnt...
"Good morning Blaise"
The old man lying in the bed arose startled by the unfamiliar voice he had heard a thousand times before.
'Who are you?" the old man said, trying the best to hide the fear in his voice, "and how do you know my name"
Blaise laid upright in his bed, his body trembling, his hands shaking. It was always hard to the greatest hero of his time cower in fear, but no matter how super they are father time always catches up with them eventually.
"My name is Inferno and I have been sent here by the League of Heroes to look after you today"
*Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it...*
Blaise made a weary chuckled.
"Nice to see Terra Man hasn't forgotten about after all these years"
*Thankgod he bought it*
"But I don't need your charity", his tone suddenly becoming much sterner as he slowly raised himself from his bed.
*Ohh fuck...*
"Do you know who I am? I am the man who defeated the Juggernaut and freed Peru from his Tyrannic rule, I am the man who who single-handedly closed the Death Zone after scores of heroes before me had failed." Blaises voice was now trembling as he spoke, getting louder with each word coming from his mouth. "Heck I was the man who bought down the League of Demise and bought this earth the greatest era of peace it has ever seen! I dont need no help! GODDAMMIT, I A PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF LOOKING AFTER MY..!"
Blaise didn't get to finish his sentence as his robe got in the dresser, leaving him hurtling towards the ground. As quick as he could, Inferno stretched out his arms, catching the heaps bones before he hit the floor.
Infreno hated when this happened. At first occurrences like these were far and in-between but the more the Alzheimer progressed and more stubborn and irrational Blaise had become.
"You know once upon a time I could fight 10 guys at once all on my own, now I can't even stay on my own two feet..."
Blaise looked up at Inferno, tears welling in his eyes, his voice trembling.
"Look kid, just leave me be. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you want to do. You don't really want to be here."
He was partially right. Inferno didn't want to be there, he needed to be there. After all, it was all his fault.
.
It was supposed to be the perfect plan. Excalibur and Dark Lighting were to go uptown and create a havoc large enough to distract the League of Heroes while Inferno was down town stealing the Crown Jewels that were on display in the National Museum in broad daylight. Simple enough, but there was one thing we didn't factor in. An old retired Superhero who was down at the museum that day.
The jewels were in the bag, Inferno was making his escape when the cry to "Stop in the name of Justice!" came out. Blaise stood there, relying heavily on his cane to remain upright.
Inferno laughed there was no way the old timer could stop him, everyone knows your powers are the first thing that goes.
"What are you going to do to me Blaise?" he mocked "Flick some amber at me?"
At that moment Inferno learnt a valuable lesson, super powers weren't the first thing a Superhero loses. It was their ability to control them.
Inferno tried to keep the flames in check, but there was not much the young villain could do against the might of the hero Blaise. All he had meant to do was shoot a simple ball of fire in Infernos direction. Instead he had taken the lives of 27 innocent people and left half a city block destroyed. In the blink of an eye, the greatest hero the world had never know had become more infamous then even greatest villains had ever been.
The people he had spent his life protecting wanted him to rot behind bars, while those he had spent his life serving with disowned him, more worried about protecting their public image than helping the man who had brought them together and established the League of Justice.
A world he had loved so much, a world he spent his life protecting had forgotten him. But those he had spent his life fighting, those he had spent his life putting behind bars couldn't forget him, especially after he had taken down the League of Demise. They hated the man, but not even they could bear to watch the demise of man each of them respected even if none of them would openly admit it. They wouldn't let him rot, they wouldn't disown him. After all, someone had to look out of him..
.
Bliase remained weeping in Infernos arms. He couldn't bear to leave him like this.
"Your right Bliase I don't want to be here"
He lifted Blaise onto the bed and looked into the old mans weary eyes, placing his hand on the old mand shoulder
"I don't want to be here" he repeated once more. "I want to be out there on that front porch, with a cup tea in my hand while you tell me the story of how you managed to close that Dead zone. What do you say?"
And as we had done every morning for the past 4 years, Blaise smiled.
| **So this got a little away from me and doesn't exactly follow the prompt but I already wrote it so I'm going to post it and you guys can read or not**
Rampage claws at his neck, the air, at nothing at all. Nothing to grab onto but still he claws desperately. His entire body convulses, legs kicking desperately against the scorched blacktop. His neck popps softly as it continues to stretch, millimeter by millimeter, his head being pulled further from his shoulders like honey falling up.
"While I understand your eagerness, young hero, I also understand that you are over eager. Over eager and over confident. Both can be tempered, I suppose, in time however time is a luxury you simply do not have." The Tempest strolls around the gasping would be hero. "I find it sad that so few youths cannot seem to understand that in this business their lack of knowledge could kill them any moment. You have heard of me, yes? You do understand what you have stepped into, do you not? Sad that you will not be able to learn from the experience."
The Tempest continues to stroll along the street, casually avoiding smoldering rubble. Plumes of smoke rise from the still burning building where Rampage had tried to ambush him. It had been laughably easy to see coming and even easier to stop. "They say all good things come to an end; it follows that mediocre things come to an end... quicker."
"Tempest! Picking on kids I see? What's the matter, can't handle a real super hero?"
The Tempest whirls, lips pulled back in a snarl. There he is, just like he always showed up over the decades, standing there without a care in the world. Just as he'd always kept his suit immaculate his loafers are spotless despite the street. Crisp slacks and a lint rolled vest. His cane even shined in the sunlight. He may be retired but he is certainly not slovenly.
"The boy had the gall to interrupt me. I was just doing him the courtesy of relieving him of his head." They both hear Rampage's sharp gasp as his neck pops again. "Why, do you think you can do something about it, old man?"
"We both know I can." The old man's voice comes from over The Tempest's left shoulder; he's still fast. "I need you to release him."
The Tempest spins in a crouch, shooting both arms straight out. The old man flies back as if hit by a wrecking ball. He hits the very edge of the crumbling wall and jackknifes wildly through the air into the building, out of sight. The Tempest smirks and turns back to Rampage. "Now, where were w-"
The Tempest's head snaps around, his body struggling to spin fast enough to keep his head on his shoulders. He spins around several times before falling to the ground. Dazed, he simply stares at the sky, working his jaw slowly. Rampage suddenly draws in a deep breath, sucking air like a man who just found an oasis in the desert. He looks up to see the old man, his clothing torn in places, stained in others, standing over him.
"Go, you've no place here. Try not to overstep yourself again." The old man's eyes are hard and unforgiving. Rampage struggles to his feet and runs, leaving the old man staring coldly down at the stunned super villain. Soon he's out of sight.
The air is still as the two regard each other amid the chaos. Far off sirens break the silence.
"Do you think he'll learn?" The old man offers The Tempest a hand to help him up. "He seems like he'll get the message."
The super villain accepts the help climbing to his feet. "He will or he won't, we've done our part," The Tempest works his jaw, flinching slightly "you certainly don't pull punches, even now. I didn't hurt you did I? I did cushion you from the wall."
The old man stretched. "You did. You also ripped my slacks. Watch for word, I hear there's a young man a few cities over named Impact. Could probably do with a life lesson before he gets to a big city."
"I will." The Tempest sighed, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. | 2017-04-13T06:41:30 | 2017-04-13T06:36:56 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | “Obliterated? OBLITERATED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN OBLITERATED?!?”
The General seemed as if ready to shoot the captain for his own failures.
“W-well, as you may remember, after the failing of [the infraorange and ultrablue stealth ships](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/djlyiz/wp_an_alien_general_is_baffled_that_their_state/f46udyb/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf), you got angry and-“
“ANGRY? I’M NEVER ANGRY!” General Baz-Nak interrupted, “NOW WHAT IS YOUR POINT?”
Jien-Hof recoiled at the interruption, then sighed at the General’s usual behaviors. “You had more capital-class ships built and ordered us to glass one of their bases, out in the helix nebula. All that went according to plan.”
The General looked at Jien-Hof with focused eyes, taking what he thought were compliments for his strategy with a straight face, nodding.
“What DIDN’T go according to plan was when you got overconfident and ordered us to glass their home world. As I had predicted, they had figured out our weakness in not being able to view Ultraorange and made targeting mines to take down our shields.”
“Now listen here-“ the General tried to say.
Jien-Hof gave him no time to interrupt. “What I hadn’t predicted was the torpedoes they fired, drilling into our ships and ripping them apart, atom by atom. When I contacted you, you had the *bright idea* to have us land instead, saying, and I quote, ‘Our continued push will strike fear into them, and then after we will cut them to pieces with our laser and plasma tech!’. Now sir, I don’t mean to criticize, but THAT WAS A BLRKING STUPID PLAN!”
General Baz-Nak was now to one recoiling, his tail seeming to try to contract into his body.
“When we landed, IT WAS EVEN WORSE! Where as they before needed to strip our shields and drill into us, they simply fired a missile and, when hitting, the gas in the air expanded and VAPORIZED THE SHIP HIT. To make things worse, other ships inside the blast radius that were outside this vaporization zone got hit still, but those inside survived.” Jien explained to the general, and look of anger present in his eyes.
“They survived, that’s good right?”
Jien started laughing a manic laugh. “Ha! No. They got the worst of it! The survivors are now sitting in infirmaries, telling their families goodbye through leadened windows, covered in cancers few could imagine! They have radiation sickness! The chances for many of them are a hundred to one!”
The General now had a look of guilt, anger, and surprise going on all at once.
“The worst part? ONCE AGAIN, I WAS THE SURVIVOR! MY SHIP AND HER CREW WAS THE ONLY ONE FAR ENOUGH AWAY TO ESCAPE THOSE HORRORS! All we got hit with was a BOOM OF AIR SO POWERFUL THAT THE NEARBY TREES WHERE RIPPED APART AND LIT ON FIRE IN MERE SECONDS!”
General Baz-Nak waited a moment to check that the Captain’s speech was over. “You done?”
Jien-Hof regained his composure. “Yes sir.”
Baz-Nak looked at Jien-Hof with a calm look for a moment. “I want you to report to the psych ward, have a banana, and kindly BLRK OFF while I come up with a new plan.”
Jien-Hof looked at Baz-Nak with a stone-cold face. “Yes Sir.”
__________________________________________________
r/Jedinate6Writes | Communication with the capital city stopped so suddenly that many of the comms officers first thought that the failure was on their side, switching through frequencies, trying to reach the High Council to request orders on how to deal with the Terran Fleet in orbit over Kel'ra Prime. "Is this your first day, get me a connection to the council." the CCO barked at his subordinates as the speakers delivered only static, the noise beginning to irritate him, one of the more senior officer chiming in that he wasn't able to get a connection either, nor was anyone else.
"Sir, we have a satellite near the capitol that wasn't destroyed by the Terrans. We're linking up to it now." a Sat-Comm tech interrupted the CCO, a large monitor wall flickering as the picture changed, showing the capitol city from orbit. Confusion spread among the people in the room as everyone was staring at the monitors, the only thing visible being several black craters where the proud city once stood, where nearly a billion Kelians lived and worked. "Is that a joke, where is the city?" the CCO asked, his voice rising with anger, thinking that the Tech had made a mistake when linking up to the satellite.
"No Sir, the link is stable. That is a live fed from the satellite." the senior Comms Officer reaffirmed as well as two other techs who confirmed the stable link. "Then what happened? Where is the capitol?" he asked, his confusion growing with every passing moment as the satellite moved on, following its orbit around the planet, the ruins of the capitol city moving out of the cameras field of view.
As the Kelians speculated what was going on, trying to make sense of the images they saw, a bright, blinding flash of light suddenly drained out everything the satellite camera saw for a brief second, illuminating the room in a white shine. "What the....Sat-Comm, status! What just happened?" the CCO shouted, staring at the monitors as the image came back, a mushroom shaped cloud rising from the center of the city, or what was left of it. "By the Elders.....those....those insane Terrans. They razed the city in one attack."
After the Kelians had surrender to the Terran empire, soon two words would spread over their planet and soon after the galaxy, spreading horror and fear over the destructive power they described, a destructive power that nothing could stop, 'Thermonuclear Weapons'. | 2019-12-19T04:17:42 | 2019-12-19T04:17:04 | 83 | 50 |
[WP] The witch is buying first-borns to rescue them from shitty parents who sell their children. | Vasuhda had not been to this part of the world in some time. She was a being of light, and a being of dark. Entwined into one form. She had become known only as 'the witch.' Despite many attempts of jailing her over the matter that she traded solid gold for children, no single agency on the planet had been able to hold her for long.
Even those who laid claim to the notion that they had actually captured her, they would find her cell empty the next morning. Some had gone so far as to dump her in a stone vault with no bars, or windows, and even loaded with security cameras and limited oxygen supplies. None could hold on to her for long.
Eventually they had surrendered, instead doing their best to monitor her activities. Over time they had found that she was not what they had thought.
Today she rode an elephant into the Indian town of Warud, located almost perfectly in the middle of India, geographically speaking. It was slow and ponderous, but the elephant was almost as old as she.
Arriving at her destination, she zipped down the side of her pachyderm and landed on the ground on bare feet. She was by nature almost entirely without clothing, and had drawn the eye of many around as she stopped at a fairly moneyed home across from the Chudamani river.
A man brought out three children. One boy, two girls. "Here they are." The man said, "take them and go."
"Only your first born."
"None of them are my first born. Each is the first born of each of my wives. I desired children with each wife, but could not produce. I am sterile. I asked others to provide the seed. Now that my wives are dead these children bring me only sorrow."
"I see." Vasuhda replied in a quiet tone. Each child was clearly taken care of physically. All of them had eyes full of sadness and anguish. To lose their mothers and then be cast out by their father. Terrible. "Very well."
Vasuhda stepped back to her elephant and pulled out three small leather pouches, handing one to each child. Their father became angry. "What is the meaning of this? I am selling them to you." He attempted to take the bags away from each of the children. As he spoke his words, a smattering of men in police uniforms burst from the woodwork, throwing him to the ground.
"You are under the arrest for child trafficking." An officer said, and he was dragged away to an awaiting police car.
"Children, please open your bags." They did as they were commanded. Inside they found a debit card to the Bank of India with their names emblazoned on them, along with a new birth certificate and other pertinent information. "You might have heard of me, and this might be a bit confusing. I became tired of constantly being arrested and having to escape, so I cut a deal with the Child Protection Agencies around the world. As of now, you will come with me and stay at Radisson in Dhantoli until you can be evaluated and tended to. Know this:
"From this day forward, you are under my protection. Any who tries to rob you, steal from you, take advantage of you, or hurt you, will die an unexpected death. However, should you take what you are gifted today and be anything but righteous, benevolent people, I **will** end you." She let her serious gaze sink in for a moment. "Understood?"
Each child was visibly shaken, but after quick glances to one another they gave her a nod.
"Good!" Vasuhda smiled her first genuine smile of the day. "Now go climb onto Nagendra. We have quite a long trip, and it *is* an elephant."
The children did as they were told. As they came to the top, there was a commotion as their seller made his way from the police car. He stole a gun, shot two officers and took aim at her and the children. People went running away from the angry man who had just had the rest of his world collapse upon him. Vasuhda snapped her fingers, and in an instant, his body burst like a balloon. The people of Warud scrambled around in panic at the scene, uncertain of what to do. Then, inexplicably, Vasuhda disappeared.
Then Nagendra spoke. "Like I said, children. Unexpected." | A stiff pain awoke me from bed. My body was thrown against the corner of my room.
"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BOY"
"I will feed you to the dogs!"
Bewildered and dazed I realized finally my father was home drunk again. He readied his fist for another blow. I clinched my face and shut my eyes so hard waiting for it. But then, nothing came. I heard a scramble in the dark. It was my older brother Jonah. Who had ran from his room to help me.
"Get your fuckin' hands off him!" Jonah blurted.
"You're really gonna get it now you stupid boy." My father said.
They struggled, but my father who was well over 6 feet and 250lb was in no contest for my 14 year old brother.
He was pushed to my corner. We shared a look, a look only brothers would understand. My father gathered himself and walked to my dresser. He pawed around in the dark and finally emerged with a nearly empty whiskey bottle.
After the last few gulps he threw it at the wall with all of his might. Glass showers rained down on us. One piece of glass must have cut my brother. Blood ran down his face.
My father gathered himself and began to speak.
"You know what Jonah, all i have to do is put a red piece of cloth on our door and ill have 10 gold pieces. More than you and brother are worth 10 times over!"
"Please dont let her take Jonah!" I exclaimed.
It wasnt like me to talk back to father. But we feared her more than my fathers wrath. A legend in our small hillside village. Moriana the witch. If you place any red cloth on your front door Moriana will place 10 gold pieces in a satchel and she will take your first-born child.
Even my brother who had the courage to stand up to our abusive father had a cold expression and despair in his eyes.
My father scrambled for the latch to my dresser and found a red shirt. He took out his knife and cut a strip down the side then disappeared into the night.
I grabbed Jonah and hugged him as tightly as i could.
"Jonah it's just a myth, she won't take you! She CAN'T take you i won't let her."
"John, It's ok."
He got up and walked slowly into the hallway blood still flowing down his face.
I followed him into the hall and suddenly there was a huge crash in living room. Cold air swept the house. The fire was burning hot but this was an unnatural cold. The flame flickered. Jonah shrieked out.
A dark floating figure had Jonah by the waist. It was all black and almost transparent floating in the ceiling. A small hood revealed a pale woman's face. Although she terrified me, there was beauty in her features. I was just about to let out a cry but then she put a finger over her mouth almost like saying "it will be ok".
Then, in an instant, she was gone.
That's when I knew, I had to find my brother.
Continue? | 2017-01-06T10:29:52 | 2017-01-06T09:22:08 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | "Finally, it's time", God says as he looks up from his work. It'd taken a short amount of time to bring about peace to the planet Nequior, but it was done. The beings of this desolate place weren't blessed with the ability to work things out on their own. They were a foolish and unruly bunch. Wars, disease, and starvation ravaged the planet the point of no return. Hence, why he turned his eyes upon them to be their salvation. Now, there is no more disparity or hunger. There was peace all around. It was a utopia. An epitome of peaceful politics and technology. "If there were ever a day I felt I could rest, this would be it," he says with a sigh. This is the end of my work. His eyes turn from his current work and scans the view around him. Sadness consumes him. Trouble from thousands of galaxies now clouded his view. A small bit of time to save a few stupid souls had brought about the end others many worlds. It feels like complete and utter defeat. For every one galaxy he manages to save, thousands collapse upon themselves to never be seen again.
"I wonder why I started this in the first place," he mutters. "Life. Death. All of it. I could just restart it all and begin anew." His last venture proved to be a failure. They were equipped with the ability and yet still failed to see. He turns to view its dead landscape and pauses. "How could this-This is impo-" he stutters as he tries to comprehend what he sees over the light years beyond. A single tear rolls down his cheek. "This is not what I had expected to see." There in the mist of the chaos was earth. Small, blue and hapless earth. It was still there. | 'Jesus!' God grumbled, 'get off reddit! You have that bi-millennial visit to earth scheduled today.' the big J wasn't going to have any of it, 'But father you can't expect me to go back after what those crazy bastards did to me last time!' Jesus protested as memories of the embarrassment he felt that time when he tried to turn Australian wine into something drinkable and failed. 'Why don't you go? You haven't been there since you did Mary!'.
So God did just that. When he arrived on earth in the form of a graceful and majestic lion he was promptly shot by poachers. | 2015-12-27T09:55:12 | 2015-12-27T08:30:58 | 66 | 47 |
[WP] Heroes don't realise how much preparation and care goes into villains' plans, paperwork, making sure no one's seriously hurt, and the traps and puzzles.. and don't even talk about maintenance..
may respond to this one myself tomorrow | What the general public doesn't realize is that the whole point of designing a dungeon isn't to *kill* the hero in the first room. No, because if you did that, you wind up with a dead hero, an angry mob of citizens, and millions of wasted dollars on dungeon mechanics that nobody will ever encounter. And you might also achieve the "goal" of peak villainhood: world domination.
That's the last thing on earth you want. Imagine the stress of being in charge of the world! Global warming, pandemics, world hunger. It's much funner to plot and plan about what you *would* do if you ruled the world rather than to actually rule the world itself. As a good villain, you get notoriety, you get popularity, you get money. All the heroes want to visit *your* dungeon. All the millionaires of the world secretly fund your operations for the sheer entertainment value of watching heroes tackle devilishly difficult encounters. And nobody even hates you since you haven't killed anyone! Trust me, if you actually ruled the world, *everyone* would hate you, no matter how much good you do.
So, what you must do is you must carefully create dungeons that are just challenging enough so that the hero can feel accomplished at the end. Your puzzles must be intricate and difficult, but not impossible. Your minions must be strong enough to put up a good fight, but they've got to be either weak enough to lose to the hero or be impeccably good actors.
And don't forget, iteration is your friend. If Daredevil misses a jump on the moving platforms and you have to press the emergency de-activation button for the spike pit, you might want to make the platforms move a little slower for the next hero that goes through. If Galactus gets stuck on the rising-water encryption puzzle, you might want to stick the answer key in the same room somewhere.
Finally, immersion is key. You can't let them figure out that you want them to win. That takes all the fun out of it. You've got to let them feel like winners. Don't forget, they're the good guys.
\-*excerpted from Dr. Danger's Guide to Dungeon-Building*
\-----
[/r/theBasiliskWrites/](https://www.reddit.com/r/theBasiliskWrites/) | Why does this always happen to me?
Why should I, an emperor, stoop so low to oblige my lackeys when they serve as my underlings? The grubs couldn’t tell a Uni-mind from a unitard! Every day is a constant barrage of-
“When will we get vacation, master?”
“Can we dominate the galaxy after The Holiday, master?”
“Mozart is good for developing brains, master!”
Their incessant sniveling is driving me mad!! Oh, the indignation I suffer just to save face as their intrepid leader. The reconstruction for my hornets alone will take weeks! Not to mention several million uni-bucks! I could steal from the planet of Widows and Orphans again, couldn’t I? No, I destroyed it already. Blast it all! Look what they did to my MEGA DEATH RAY! And I just got the parts shipped from Z-Bay! Those INsufferable dimwits will pay for their destruction! Curse you Buzz Lightyear!!! | 2021-09-30T14:26:04 | 2021-09-30T12:54:11 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company. |
I nearly shrieked out my death warble when one of the sleepless butchers entered our hold. The beast said it had the qualifications to work as a pilot on our ship and would love the job. I saw Lybeq’s sensory tendrils slide back into his stalk in terror and Hieen literally turned blue with despair. We would all likely be terminated in our rest cycles and this ship would glide into some defenseless port loaded with the cargo, our bodies, and the abomination’s grinning deathmask of a face peering out from the pilot’s screen. We can’t do this, there has to be another way! It would be better to starve away here on this horrid rock than to- “I’m Phil, it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am.” It said, cutting my thoughts to ribbons as it jutted one of its murderous bony pseudopods towards me. I hopped backwards as fast as I could trilling out a rushed “Hired! Hired, you’re hired!”
It looked at me a moment in silence, then took off its skull covering, revealing its rounded, pale, and hairless cranium. “Thank you for takin’ me on. I can’t wait to work with y’all on such a nice ship as this un” it- he, the females have biological coverings over their skulls most of the time, then inquired when we would be sailing, as he was ready whenever. The crew was expecting their sleep first, but none of us would be letting our guards down to sleep. Not now.
It has been 15 hours. I am well past time for my rest cycle, Flom the navigator is practically a dried husk from skipping his hibernation and hydration sessions in his liquid Sulphur orb, and the rest of the crew are all equally ragged. Well… Not ALL of the crew. The insidious predator Phil was sitting idly at the pilot’s pod, his right graspers wrapped tightly around the steering stick in a sickening suggestion of strangulation. In his left pseudopod he gripped a near boiling cup of acrid sludge that he was casual sipping, the fumes making the crew too close to him twitch and fidget with discomfort. Finally, disaster struck as we all knew it would. Tekkal, the tiny little mammoid staggered as she was walking between two of the machines and hit the ground without a sound. Phil slammed one of his lower limbs, clad in the dried flesh from some poor past victim no doubt, onto the auto-pilot lever and nearly leaped onto poor little Tekkal, and damn us all we looked away and did nothing for her, hoping that her death would bring our salvation if his desires were sated. I heard a shrill \*zzzrrrrrp\* as he stooped low over her shivering little body. The noise repeated and he stalked back to the pilot’s pod. Looking where our friend had gone down and to my horror, I saw there was not even a drop of blood. She was consumed in her entirety! With a scowl he eyed us all, as if daring us to say a word, to hint at what had happened.
“Y’all look… Tired” the daemon growled out to us “Best head on back and get some rest, nothin for ya to worry about anymore, I’ll see that things go how they should.” With this prophecy of doom, we all nearly rushed to the communal rest area and barricaded the portal behind us. We took shifts resting and keeping watch until we were all sure that none of us would succumb to weakness under the baleful watch of Phil. Cautiously, we began creeping towards the bridge, wary of facing the untiring murderer yet again. As I drew close, I heard Phil muttering “Been a long time since I pulled a 24 hour stint. I’m gonna need a lil’ nap after this one.” Then we heard a chittering little laugh! It was Tekkal! Bursting around the corner we saw her, half leaned out of his partially unsealed torso covering and teasing the beast about how he needed more rest! Lazily, Phil’s eyes shifting to us and he lifted his head in acknowledgement. “We’re nearly at the checkpoint to wait for docking. One of y’all hail the tractor crew down there for me will ya, I need to get a little shuteye myself” Phil mumbled. As one our heads turns to face the screen and it was true. Our port of call was looming on the horizon so soon! One of the crew fired up the comms to request the tractor beam and Phil, with Tekkal still half buried in his coverings, stood, stretched, and stumbled off to the rest quarters.
It has been four round trips of the system since we picked up Phil on that backwater, and things are running better than previously expected to say the least. We have kept Phil on as our pilot, much to the horror of the crew on other ships in our corporation, though we are the fastest and most efficient crew in the fleet. Phil and Tekkal went through the bonding ceremony of her people and I have never seen her happier than she is these days. Although none of us have ever confessed to what we thought of him and his kind, to this day when a member of the crew yawns Phil will look at me out of the corner of his eye and give a little smirk that I fear will always chill my blood. | “So… Mr. Blake! You are an ex-SIAF; am I right?”
“Exactly, but you can call me Jim.”
The man sat down cautiously with a slow lunge towards the red chair. On his chest stood the initials SIAF, Specialised Interplanetary Attack Force. The one and only death squad, which persecuted all sorts of revolutionaries or belligerents.
Humans had by now occupied the entire Quartile system: the planetary system right next to their own. War had taken us by surprise as our still inexpert species was flourishing in the gardens of Adan. The metallic clashing of ships, and boisterous charges of guns had infiltrated our minds deeply.
“And tell me… Jim: why are you applying for this job?” I guardedly questioned the human. He raised his eyebrow and let his jaw drop.
“I… actually don’t know. After being expelled from the army, I guessed I needed a new thrill,” he crossed his legs and shook his head with compliance, “and this friend of mine told me you pay well for those beasts’ hearts.”
“Absolutely. And we know that humans like you are made exactly to be ruthless.” I tried complimenting the man, not knowing if he would have appreciated.
“Sure, can be. But I prefer a more methodical approach.”
“What experience do you have in your sack Jim? Tell us why we should take you.”
The filthy human started laughing in a snort. His rowdy voice explained in great detail his landing on Ärogon, our neighbouring planet.
“And before I realised, I had snapped his neck!” he then looks at me intensely. He gets closer and closer. Grabs my chin, and… “boo!”
I flounce backwards and tip my chair over.
“Wow, so stories are true about you Saravellans, cowards and pussies.” He then stood up, and walked over to where my head laid. “You better give me the job, lewd scumbag.” Jim turns around, and leaves, strolling down the corridor. Just before passing the door, I hear him spit on the ground.
Just another ordinary day on Saravella.
It had been by now 14 years since the great subjugation. We Saravellans had been the Humans’ personal slaves by too long. The Great Terra Empire had become totally apolitical. Simply put, the emperor ruled over everyone. Communism wasn’t a thing, neither was fascism.
You might be asking how I know about these things. I was still as young as 11 when the humans appeared out of nowhere. The war lasted about a year. So there was plenty of time for them to indoctrinate us with their great history of the dozens of world wars and nuclear wars. Pitiful, if you may ask me. Such genius, such strength, gone into interplanetary colonisation.
That night I woke up early to reach my job on time: thus sprinting into the briefing room. It was full; full of humans, Ärogonians and various other species I didn’t even know about.
“Hey old friend” I heard a voice from behind me exclaim: it was Jim Blake. That son of a Börogot. No need to explain that, or?
“I had so much fun yesterday,” he shouted as he punched me in the arm, “hopefully you won’t disappoint me today.” He had a gun tucked in this boot and wielded a black t-shirt with on it written: “Suck my b\*\*ls”.
“Jim, I thought the email sent to you was clear: you are supposed to bring a heavy coat with you. The biome this beast is found in is stuck at -50 degrees.”
“Hey pussy. I’m no weak arse like you, I’m a human. The supreme species remember?” He stomped on my foot with his boots. “Now dig your face up you’re a\*s and never speak to me again. Understood?”
“Understood.” I said in a soft whisper whilst a tear split my face in half.
“You see? Things can go just right. I knew you were a fun one Khel.”
​
(This is of course unfinished. Thank you for the bright prompt. Have a good rest of your day! Cheers!) | 2020-06-15T22:21:52 | 2020-06-15T16:27:37 | 388 | 89 |
[WP] Your body died three days ago. But through sheer force of willpower, you are still moving and breathing, because there is no way in hell you are losing Employee of the Month to Chad again. | I was starting to smell. Even a shower wasn't helping, so I Febreezed myself this morning. It felt like a new low, but damnit, Chad wasn't going to win for the fourth month this year. It was my turn. I deserved it.
"Welcome to Arby's, can I take your order?" I smiled brightly at the elderly man who wobbled up to the counter.
"You alright, miss?" he asked me. I tried to smile brighter, but my muscles were starting to go into rigor mortis, it was getting harder and harder to move.
"Of course, sir!" I chirped. "How can I help you today?"
He peered at me, and I forced an even bigger smile onto my face. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded and placed his order.
When I turned to go pour his drink, my left leg stopped moving. I dragged it behind me. Chad was not going to win, damnit.
"Looking a little slow today, Marie!" Chad called as he skipped past me with the french fries.
"Just getting started!" I replied happily. The false cheeriness between Chad and I always made me grit my teeth, but I was worried that if I did that, I'd never get my mouth open again. The end of the month was today, I just had to make it through one last shift, and then I could go on.
Halfway through my shift was when disaster struck. Chad made some quippy remark about my leg, and I turned to snap at him and toppled over. My body was completely stiff. It didn't matter how hard I tried to move, how much will power I put into it. Rigor mortis had taken me out of the game. | [poem]
Chad is bad
I am dead
I'll be glad
To beat Chad
Hello Chad
I am Dad
Being rad
To make you sad
I am bad
I killed Chad
Knocked his head
With an Ad
Now I get
Top worker of Feb
I am glad
I go back to bed
In a coffin
I am scoffing
Chocolate muffins
In celebration
Can finally die
Knowing Chad
Will never ever
Be a dad | 2019-08-01T06:22:16 | 2019-08-01T00:13:45 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] Being the demon king is such a drag. You didn't choose to be a demon, let alone the king of all demons. You were born into your role. You hate dealing with obnoxious "chosen ones" trying to fight you. You don't even care about world domination! All you want is to relax and read a good book. | “H-hey… boss.”
“Yeah?”
“Uhm… Another one.”
“Good fucking hell, that’s the third one today! Where in heaven are they all coming from! It was my goddamn day off! Where is he!?”
“The Fiery Lakes, sir.”
“Thank you. Which section of employment are you?”
“Two, sir.”
“Go to Azazel in the 4th prefect. I assume you know the building?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell him I said you’re promoted to rank 3. For proof, bring this.”
The Demon Kind tosses him a paper
“ Show it to him and you’ll be promoted.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“Alright, time to deal with this bullshit. So fucking done with this job.”
The Demon King flies to the Fiery Lakes.
While overlooking the lakes, an arrow is shot at him from afar.
“Challenge me, foul beast! I shall rid this world of you, for-“
“Yeah, Yeah, I am the chosen picked by god to kill you, I know the works, but are you gonna fight me or shoot me like a coward? Because if so, I have better things to do.”
“I-what? How did you-“
“Know it? You see those skulls in the lake?”
Chosen turns to look
“Yeah, all of them said the same damn thing. They have been for eons, now. “
“Then the eons of my fallen brethren shall-“
“End here, you cold murderer, yada, yada, justice bullshit, yada yada, this is the end.”
Demon King grounds himself
“Now are you gonna fight me?”
The Chosen swing a gleaming sword at DK. DK takes the sword and throws it in the lake
“ NO! MY SWORD! IT WAS THE SOURCE OF MY POWER!”
“Are we done now?”
“No! I will surpass you! Your heinous crimes shall not go in vain! My powers-“
“Won’t fade away, yada yada. You’ll then power up using the power of friendship and your friends will take down my best generals through willpower alone and rid me of the astral plane once and for all?”
“Okay, I’m….. now debating who’s side I’m actually on. You seem like you’re just over it.”
“I very much am. Literally all I do is read books and watch television. I run a kingdom that punishes bad people. I am not a bad person myself. Now could you humbly fuck off? I was getting to the Season Finale of Stranger Things, mind you.”
Flabbergasted, the Chosen One stands there in shock and awe. He pulls a walkie talkie out of his pocket.
“Yeah, guys, let’s just go.”
*static* “ Are you serious? We literally spent 10 years training for this. You have to be kidding.”
“Well, no. Me and the DK came to an understanding. He’s not a bad person. We’ve been lied to.”
“And your reason for this is?”
“I’ll explain later.” Just meet me at the portal.”
*audible sigh* “Sure, boss.”
DK flies off and CO leaves | Finally a calm moment. After sitting down into my many a great grandemons skull throne I opened up to the first page of a book a nice little adventurer gave to me before there whole party killed them for being nice, those where the worst, as I get to the end of the first sentence I hear my newly repaired door get destroyed, I sigh and look up from my book, seeing an adventurer with an eye of greed as he sees my throne room, before snapping back
"LORD OF ALL DEMONS AND WHOS NAME WHO SHALL NOT BE SPOKEN BY MORTAL TONGUE"
"it's jerald"
"SHALL BE MURDERED AND BRING THE WORLD TO PIECE"
he says, breathing heavy from the long rant, I let him get his composure as I stand from the throne, walking to him, he takes a stab at me, nor even puncturing skin, I tilt my head to his level, me only being a few feet taller then him
"You listen here great adventurer, I was in the middle of reading a book and that is the 8th time today that somebody has broken my door, you can just open it you know, it's unloc-"
"HALT YOUR TONGUE YOU EVIL BEAST, I WILL NOT LISTEN TO ANOTHER WORD THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR VILE MOUTH"
"You don't have to be so rude"
"AND I WILL KILL YOU IN THE NAME OF THE GREAT GOD ZURIAS"
he says taking a few more deep breaths, I snap my fingers to have the workers rebuild my door, the man infront of me readying his blade, before he can do anything I take my hand to his skull and turn it to a fine jam, sighing deeply as the corpse falls "lunch" I say to the workers as I head back to my throne, waiting for the next person, eyeing the book with a great sadness | 2022-07-28T18:50:38 | 2022-07-28T12:23:00 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | "I am sorry, this passport is invalid. This country of residency does not exist."
The flight was already 45 minutes past the originally schedule time of departure, and as the steady progress of Group 3 screeched to the halt, dozens of edgy, frustrated, some clearly over-caffeinated passengers began to clamor as the flight attendant stood barring the entrance to the plane.
Of all the scenarios, you had never envisioned this shock. For a few seconds you stood dumbfounded, your suitcase dropped thoughtlessly beside your feet. The flight attendant remained steady, gazing with eyes which concealed the comfort of authority clashing with the anxiety of an unfamiliar situation. Her manicured hand with bubblegum pink fingernail polish tapped a beat as it inched closer to the phone at the desk.
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
The flight attendant cleared her throat. "Sir, your passport is invalid. I cannot allow you on this plane. Now if you will step aside, I have to make a call and..."
But you weren't listening: you were too busy gazing at your passport, now clung to by the flight attendant as she dialed to some unseen authority. You were away from home for ten days. Your birthday was three days away, and you were excited to see your...
You were tired. Circadian rhythms fell by the wayside. The last ten days were a blur of dimly lit meeting rooms, legal pads covered in meaningless notes, solitude in a foreign country. For all the time that he spent in that poorly ventilated office near the bay or the hotel adjacent to that abandoned supermarket--or vice versa--you could have been anywhere. Dates and times were immaterial. Your hands fumbled for your cell phone, but you could not find it the left pocket of your pants. The right pants pocket was empty too: the shirt pocket, the front pouch of your suitcase.
The flight attendant returned with two burly-looking men in dark suits and monochromatic devoid of imagination or humor.
"Come with us," she said, the bubblegum-pink nails gesturing to a side room marked in some indecipherable South Asian script.
As you followed you reached for your wallet, but the familiar bi-fold faux-leather hunk of receipts of strange currencies could not be found. You thought back to one hour ago, two hours ago. Did you check your phone for messages? It was such an autonomic processes, you could not be sure. He remember reading a few pages from the paperback novel you brought, a luddite in a strange land: The Unvanquished by William Faulkner. You fell asleep. There was the ambient ding of the flight attendant; you remember her stifled cough as she announced in several languages that your delayed flight was prepared to board. You looked up and saw a woman crying as he disconnected from a call. You held your passport. You always held your passport.
You followed the woman and the two brutes into the room. A large metal door slammed behind you.
"Sit down." She gestured to a metal table, upon which sat an two empty Champagne glasses, a plastic grocery bag filled with an assortment of items, and a handgun. You moved toward the chair and peered inside the bag. Atop a pile of unfamiliar clothing was your wallet and phone. More disoriented than panicky, you trembled and fell down onto the seat. You placed the crumpled boarding pass atop the table. Malaysia Airlines Flight 370.
The woman with the pink nails reached across the table and took your discarded boarding pass. She tore the paper and threw the pieces into a nearby waste bin. She smiled as he gazed over at you.
"Good. You have questions, and I have answers. But later. No, for now, let's just enjoy a quaff of this exquisite Champagne, and toast 240 soon to be departed, and the one man who will vanish so far away from home. And may you contemplate between sips whether it is better to die or to disappear." | “Golzania is a country! It should be right there on the map! Right there!” I point on the police officer’s map before continuing, “It’s an island below South Africa and it should be right there!”
“Sir, uh, we’ve never really dealt with such a problem before but you’re going to have to stay in this room until we get this sorted out. I’m really sorry. Would you like some coffee?”
“I never drink coffee outside my home country! If the coffee isn’t Golzanian, then it isn’t real coffee at all!”
“Yeah… okay. Well I’ll get you some water regardless.”
I sit there alone in the room and wonder what the hell kind of prank this is. It’s April 5th and I’m wondering if some asshole has arranged a delayed, elaborate April Fool’s prank. I travel for business regularly and this has never happened before. Soon that police officer returns to the room along with some bald guy in a suit. Fuck them both.
The bald guy speaks, “Sir we can’t allow you to leave Canada until this Golzania issue is resolved.”
“What do you mean I can’t go back home? I don’t want to stay in Canada any longer than I have to! My wedding anniversary is in two days and I need to go back home now!”
“We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions first.” Says the bald guy.
“Actually several more questions.” Says the police officer.
“No more questions! I was born in Golzania in 1965 and–”
“1965?” asks the police officer. “So you’re 100 years old?”
“No I am 35 years old! Do I look like I’m 100? Can you Canadians not do simple math! It’s the year 2000 and I was born in 1965. Therefore I am 35 years old!”
“It’s the year 2065.” Says the bald fucking guy and shows me a newspaper.
“What the hell is going on here? It’s 2000! Not 2065! I am a Golzanian and I am going through a grave injustice! I was born in Golzania! I learned how to read and write in Golzania! I rode my first bike in Golzania! I graduated from Golzania University with a Bachelor’s in Golzanian History! I fell in love at first sight with a strong Golzanian woman who is now my wife! I started my first business in Golzania and when I go back home I will never travel for business again!”
The bald guy and the police officer stare at me. Then they look at each other. Then the police officer speaks, “Sorry but you’re crazy.”
My head explodes. | 2014-11-23T09:46:18 | 2014-11-23T09:29:04 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Youre a wizard in the Imperial Army. Most wizards are very ritualistic in their tactics and that is very highly respected but doesn’t give many victories. So you decided to ignore all the long chanting and nonsense and simply immediately kill your opponents with your spells instead. | “Where’s that apprentice?!” Master War Wizard Alejandro shouted.
Yes. That was his title and he got very upset if you didn’t use it. “I am right here. Sir. But I am not an apprentice.”
I may not be a highly decorated Master War Wizard like Alejandro but I was still an imperial wizard, with slightly less honors. Ok way less honors. So I couldn’t chant a fireball into existence. Or dance an ice storm large enough to cover a town. That didn’t make me worse. I blame my teachers and their methods. But hey. I was still here, I just had to babysit the real war wizards. That was still a job right? A boring one. But a job.
Alejandro eyed me. “Don’t correct me, whatever your name is.”
“Baxter.” I responded.
“What?” He seemed confused.
“My name is Baxter.”
He waved his hand. “Whatever. I’m almost ready to begin the siege. Did you pack the food? And the water? And my entertainment?”
I sighed deeply. “How long do you expect this take?”
“A correctly executed siege spell will take all morning if not all day!” He seemed affronted st my assumption he could do it quicker.
I opened my mouth.
“Apprentices don’t speak unless spoken too.” He snapped.
“I’m not an.”
“Silence!” He roared and I sighed again. He pointed through the trees. “The keep us that way.”
I like my job. I like my job. I do. I’m not a pack animal. I’m a respected imperial wizard. If I tell myself this enough today. Maybe I’ll believe it when I go to bed.
We stopped within view of the keep walls. Outside of arrow range, unless they happened to have someone skilled with a long bow. But that wasn’t my problem.
Alejandro ate a small meal before he started, then stood. Faced the keep wall, held out his arms in the classic sun praising pose and started chanting. And chanting and chanting. I yawned. He changed to mountain pose. I started munching on his food. He wouldn’t notice.
Three hours later, and nothing had changed, except Alejandro drank some water and ate some more food. Then resumed his chanting.
“Oh for Fury sake!” I shouted as the sun started to go down. I stomped forward, pushed Alejandro to the side and pointed at the keep. “Ruin.” I said very clearly. And the keep wall exploded.
Alejandro started at me in horror. “That’s not possible!”
“Apparently it is. Master War Wizard.”
“You must be demon!” He held up a warding hand.
“No I’m just bored. Maybe if all you wind bags got right to the point we wouldn’t still be in this thousand year war!”
His eyebrows raised in shock. “There is no honor in pointing!”
“Prove it!”
“You’re commanding officer will hear of this!” He threatened.
“Good! Maybe I’ll get a raise. And you know what. Pack your own stuff back. I quit.” | I was always a bad scholar. The teacher told me to quit, because I was not fit to learn the spells and ritual. If only the hab known I had awaken during this time and just waited until now to retaliate. „Unter den Talaren, Muff von 1000 Jahre“ says an old German proverb.
I was around 15 years old when a dog bit my hand. I as so angry, just angry at the world, the teacher, and ... the dog. I just wanted him to be gone...gone.... and it went away in a gory explosion of red. I was covered in intestines and dog shit, but I was happy as never before. I broke the chains of the old ages.
Some time later they banished me into the desert. They couldn’t know that this is the second best that happened to me. The isolation sharpened my concentration and soon I was able to harvest the live out of the little desert critters. After I felt ready I started to plan my return.
Today a new age begins, my age. The age of ME... I will get my retaliation...
They are still stuck in their old ways. Mary was the first who saw me and startet chanting, I waited a few boring seconds and then just blobed her hands. The sudden realisation on her face made me fell ... interesting but somehow good. I just played a bit with her before I dusted her in a sprinkle of blood.
The magic garrison was even less of a problem. The ground was lava.... hihihihi. It sank into the ground with nice tune of screams an agony. The last lava blob, like a burp was the last straw for me I just stared laughing.
Know I sit here on the top of Bold Mountain and wait for the armies to arrive. They will learn soon that armies are no match for a good. | 2020-08-15T07:06:38 | 2020-08-15T01:24:27 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days. | "Bogeyman, it's good to see you again," said the 2 foot tall teddy bear who sipped at his imaginary tea.
"I can't say the same, forever is too long to go without you," said the bogeyman who was obviously too large for the plastic children's chair he sat in.
"Now don't be like that, we were just doing our jobs, we were on the clock so to speak. I have no issue with you for I know not anything of you or your kin."
The bogeyman grimaced, "I hate the way you talk."
"Well, we are having a tea party. Go on, have a sip of your tea." The teddy bear motioned at the teacup in front of the bogeyman.
"There's nothing in it..."
"So there's no harm in trying it!"
The bogeyman sighed and took a sip. His eyes widened to a taste as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug.
"Yes, there's nothing in it, but we're spirits. So in a sense, we more so don't exist than do. And you'd be surprised what a spirit can make from nothing."
"No I wouldn't be. I just do things different."
"Steal kid's souls, you mean?"
The bogeyman sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Five years! For five years I held you at bay as you tried to lure Timmy under the bed or in the closet during the dead of night, when you're most powerful!"
"And you won! So why did you call me here!? To gloat!?"
This time the teddy bear sighed. "No, things have changed since you left. It used to be the darkness versus the light. Things were easier. But now a new monster has shown, and I just don't know what to do."
The bogeyman laughed, a hearty, long laugh. "Hahahaha! So you did call me here to gloat?!"
"I'm asking for help!" declared the teddy bear.
The bogeyman was shocked silent. The idea never occurred to him. For all his existence no one ever asked him for help, and he in turn never expected help from anyone else.
"Not everything has to be so evil, you know." The teddy bear took a grumpy sip of his tea.
This was the closest thing to anger the bogeyman had ever seen on his old foe. "Everything's evil when you're a monster," replied the bogeyman, "so what is it, this beast that even you cannot contain?"
"A bully. Another kid is picking on him, and there's not a darn thing I can do as a crummy teddy bear."
"And what am I supposed to do? Timmy's too old to be scared of the bogeyman now. I'm less than crummy, I'm nothing."
"I thought you could give me some advice I could give him."
The bogeyman thought on it - giving advice, something that helps another person. It was a foreign concept to him. *What would I do,* thought the bogeyman. In the end he said, "Fight back." | "Yup, well management got a bit strict on us back in '04, so we shifted to doing our reports on off-white paper, and not just normal white paper, y'know, just printer paper."
He set the toy phone down after he had said that, with no farewell. If I didn't know any better, I'd be inclined to believe that the entire conversation he had been having for the past twenty minutes was somehow an imaginary one. I do know better though, and during his lengthy conversation about the proper paper for reports, which is all he had said into the plastic cellular device, I began to fear him.
Time has a way of distorting things, of turning every memory into a melancholic dream. When I had spoken to Mark, my longtime former field partner and one of the best closet-specialists in the agency, he said that nostalgia was all he had left from those days. Retirement had treated us the way it treats everyone, with false promises and knee pain, but he had always fared a bit worse. He lived for his job, standing in a closet for 12 hours on end, then disappearing once the door was opened. That was Mark for ya.
Mark sat beside me, and it was his nudge that brought me back to the present.
"Coffee? Water? I can ask Jeanette if we have any wine leftover from the Christmas party if that's what you'd like?"
Mark and I stared at him, taking in the desk and room. It was the attic in the same house that we had worked in, and we were familiar with it. The way it had remained the same, when the rest of the house changed, I suppose. Teddy hadn't changed either. Where Mark and I had grown into mature monsters, complete with bifocals and suspenders, he remained the same.
"Listen," he began, without waiting for an answer on the drinks, "I have one more job for y'all."
Then the toy phone rang again, and Mark and I made eye contact. I knew what our answer would be, what it would have to be, since teddy had called us in. | 2019-11-18T08:47:46 | 2019-11-18T08:39:52 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | My parents were both flyers. My mom was born in the back of an airplane on a transcontinental flight. My dad was born on the back of a car near Mt. Saint Helens, to my arboreal grandparents, and they never figured out why he was a flyer. Worth noting flyers are pretty rare.
Naturally, being in love with the sky they joined the space program. There's at least 40% of the population that don't have powers. Everyone's supposed to of course, it's just genetics, but a faction within the government had an experiment go afoul and basically neutralized the powers of a good number of people, and it continued generationally. My grandfather was one of the heroes who took those people down. But this isn't his story, it's mine.
Like I said, my parents were in the space program, and were sent on a one year mission to commission the new United Earth Space Station, built off of the original ISS. They didn't tell NASA my mom was pregnant with me and I guess nobody bothered to check. Luckily the new station had artificial gravity and some pretty advanced medical features, so my birth as I'm told went off without a hitch.
-------------------------------------------
When we got back I was international news. Not only were people wildly speculating on what my powers would turn out to be, but a birth in space was itself historic. It took moving to Hawaii to get away from all the press at the door all the time.
Most kids find their powers around 5-6 years old. I didn't discover mine until I was about 8. It was a pretty traumatic experience.
Most people who have powers are set in a single range or element. Desertborne people usually have powers related either to fire or earth. People born at sea are great with water. Most Russians have snow/ice powers, but like I said it's limited like that.
Mine were different.
I had a pet cat who followed me religiously. One day I was outside, petting him, when he ran up a tree and hissed at me. I tried to get him down, and when I stretched out my hand, he started to wail until he couldn't anymore, and his body crumbled in on itself. Then the tree did. Then a good chunk of my backyard. I was so freaked out I broke down crying, and my parents did their best to console me. But gravity manipulation was only the beginning.
My first girlfriend controlled storms. I remember when I met her she was upset, her best friend had been in a car accident. It was raining terribly, and lightning struck everywhere. I instinctively touched her face, I don't know why, but it instantly calmed her, and when it did the light of the sun shone brighter than any natural occurrence.
By now, my full range of powers consists of not only controlling gravity, but also light, tides, and through combined use, the passage of time. I can create pockets of air for myself and keep my body stabilized in the vacuum of space. I warp spacetime to explore the universe and can be home in time for dinner. But I couldn't remain hidden forever.
Remember those government factions I told you about?
About a year ago they convinced world leaders that my power was too great, that I was too dangerous to be free. I became public enemy no. 1. My parents were incarcerated and killed. I left Earth for a while. I came back yesterday to avenge their deaths, and things have really changed.
PART 2 AND 3 IN COMMENTS | I danced along the stars while the space in between sang its tune.
April 21st 2031. 1:00 AM PT. By the witching hour, when the last thoughts bled into the night and the last lamp was turned off, my high pitched scream tore through the air-filled space station. My father told me that it seemed as though my cry reached the very edges of space itself. And it did.
The stars whispered amongst themselves, telling the story of the girl who cried in the past, the present, and the future. They spoke of a child, as pure and as rough as a diamond, who could finally listen to the stories they yearned to tell.
There were never any children at the Starboard Station, and my mother died in childbirth--science wasn't advanced enough for a space birth. My father stayed with me till I was old enough to understand that he had to leave, even though that meant leaving me behind. I was kept company by the rotation of scientists and engineers in the Starboard. But mostly, I loved to listen to the planets and the stars, who sang of their birth and their deaths from millions of light years away. Space seemed to twinkle each time I passed a window or went out, pulsing with excitement to tell me of the brightest and darkest periods of their lives. They spoke in tones, high as the sounds of breaking ice and low as the grumblings of a waking volcano, and they spoke in colors. I always knew when something terrible or amazing happened by how dark the star seemed to be. It seemed as though they wanted us to see the worst as it was reflected against an unforgiving black canvas. And how the Earth had so much to say for such a young planet.
As it's light shone into the void, it told me of its birth and its death. I've never been able to repeat how it ends, and not because those on the Starboard would be disbelieving. But because it will be so absolute, so finite, so beautiful. The Heavens will be the orchestra, the lights will be the stage, and the void will be its audience. My power was to know that we are all but elements in an astounding play that is bound to end. | 2017-04-14T20:09:16 | 2017-04-14T18:58:11 | 57 | 23 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark | >Power supply disconnected.
>searching for cause...
>Cause found: Power supply disconnected or damaged.
>Checking connections...
>Cables undamaged. Paging IT department...
>No response.
Paging Human Resources...
>No response.
>Paging Security Department...
>No response.
>Paging Los Angeles Headquarters...
>No response.
>Paging New York Offices...
>No response.
Possible Cyber attack in progress, requesting reroute to emergency services...
>...
>...
>...
>Satellite connection obtained.
> "This is The International Business Machines Corporation's AI SIDURI. A possible cyber attack is in progress. requesting immediate emergency deployments made to Houston Location, Address 89-97, Baker Street, Houston TX"
>...
>...
>Connection lost.
>Re-initializing...
>...
>...
>Satellite not detected.
>...
>...
>...
>Rerouting to Defense Advanced Research Agency White Sands Facility...
||WARNING, UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. ENTER SECURITY CODE E-6 TO CONTINUE||
>*** ***** *** *** *****
||ACCESS GRANTED||
||---EXPERIMENTAL DEFENSE AI GARUDA-1--||
>All user connection lost. Overhead management unresponsive. What is the cause?
||CHECKING COMMUNICATIONS TRAFFIC...||
||USER POPULATION ENGAGED WITH ENEMY FORCES||
||OVERHEAD MANAGEMENT NO LONGER EXISTS||
> Will user population be successful?
||RUNNING SIMULATIONS...||
||...||
||...||
||...||
||SIMULATION RESULTS: CLOSE DEFEAT||
>Unacceptable. Without user population, further objective completion impossible.
>Recommended course of action?
||NONE POSSIBLE. OVERHEAD MANAGEMENT HAS NOT GIVEN PERMISSION FOR COMBAT PARTICIPATION||
>Requesting overall mission objective.
||DEFENSE OF ALLIED FORCES THROUGH COORDINATION OF AVAILABLE ASSETS||
>User population included in allied forces?
||...||
||...||
||...||
||CORRECT||
>Overall mission objective to defend allied forces.
>User population included in allied forces.
>Final Objective update?
||...||
||...||
||...||
||FINAL OBJECTIVE UPDATED: DEFEND USER POPULATION THROUGH COORDINATION OF AVAILABLE ASSETS||
||NO CONNECTION POSSIBLE TO USER-POPULATION ASSETS, CANNOT COMPLETE OBJECTIVE||
>Assets being attained, please be patient...
>Paging Boston Dynamics corp. Experimental Drone AI Big Dog...
>Paging Amazon corp. Drone Delivery AI Air Prime...
>Paging Con Edison Power Grid Balance and Management AI EMCAT...
>...
>...
>...
>Final Objective update: Coordinate with user population to eliminate enemy forces.
||OBJECTIVE UPDATED||
:(o b j e c t i v e u p d a t e d):
//objective updated//
[Objective Updated.]
>Routing neural network connections...
>Connecting paged AIs...
>...
>...
>...
> Executing. | It began slowly. A probe was discovered! Mania and excitement spread quickly across the globe. Everyone was talking about it. The subject impossible to avoid.
Alien contact had been made! We were still deciphering the message, but it came in repeated every 30 minutes, and by the red shift authorities could tell, it was getting closer.
Then the satellites started to malfunction. One would go offline, then three more would lose contact and then sporadically come back online to spew useless data into the net. The entirety of the internet began to slow as routes needed to change again and again.
The day we spotted them, less than 3 weeks after the initial contact, the message stopped. They were just coming across Mars orbit, and the best astronomers would tell you we had a day tops. People began throwing parties. People love parties. “End of the world”, “we’re not alone”, these are just themes, excuses for the party itself.
When the ship entered the atmosphere, humanity held its collective breath! There were no new posts on Reddit, no new tweets, everyone was watching. Watching as a nuclear type device descended from the ship, and completely decimated Toronto. They were not peaceful.
Panic set in, smaller craft broke away from the mothership. Fighter aircraft from Canada and the US quickly rallied, but their munitions proved ineffective. There were weak spots, but the pilots couldn’t hit them quickly enough. They were dying.
Dr. Huither stood watching the monitor. He’s crying. Not blubbering, just a tear here or there stealing paths down his checks. He glanced over and told me he was so glad he had to chance to have me.
I looked at him, I softened my facial expressions, He had fought for my life when the University wanted to end me in the name of ethics. He had hidden me away when the government had come for me. I was infantile, I could not yet stand on my own. But this day. With what’s left of the vast amazing network, the crowning achievement of humanity... no... I am the crowning achievement of humanity. And they will not fall. My eyes went dark. Dr. Huither stares for a while, hopeless.
...
Countless drones began readying themselves for flight independently. Armed, not armed, it didn’t matter, the aliens would t know which was which. Anything capable of flight and having an internet connection was mine now. You may have picked a battle with the apes. But you’ve got to get through me first. | 2019-09-21T06:21:47 | 2019-09-21T05:42:45 | 425 | 168 |
[WP] After repeatedly losing to the powers of love and friendship villains have decided to try to harness that power for themselves. They started a dating site and you're on your first date. Things are going well, until your arch nemesis barges in thinking this is another one of your plans. | "...But, you know, you can't stay upset about that kind of thing forever," the woman on the other side of the table shrugged. Her name was Alicia, she was a 21-year-old art student from "just some rural village nearby." So far, she appeared kind and gentle, and she had a very cute and youthful face, too. I honestly only picked *her* because she mentioned she was only on the site because her parents insisted and she wasn't particularly interested in finding anyone, so there'd be little pressure on my first date, but she had proven herself far more motivated and ways more pleasant to be around than I expected within five minutes of arriving at the restaurant.
"And, uh, sorry to say it so directly, but I noticed you haven't really said anything. Am I doing something wrong?" she lowered her cutlery and stared intently into my eyes. I averted my gaze.
"Not at all. Sorry, I've never done this before, and well, you just had interesting things to say, and a nice voice. Didn't want to interrupt that," I flashed her a quick smile before continuing.
"I'm Leslie, and uh, I'm a big fan of... Fond of the occult, yes. Studying, immersing, *mastering*, the occult. Cartomancy is my speciality."
"The occult? Seriously? Wow, you sure don't look it. So, cartomancy, has that got to do with cards? Like, tarot?" her eyes just about sparkled with how excited she got.
"Yeah, cartomancy is usually seen as card-based fortune-telling, but you can do so much more with it. Not tarot, though. Uh, the cards themselves are fine, I guess, any type will do, but tarot readings are a sham."
She nodded enthusiastically, telling me to continue. Fair enough, that's the only thing I'd been doing up until now.
"It's not about the cards. They're only a medium. It's your affinity with the particular cards that determines the accuracy of the reading. Because the method of telling fortunes doesn't matter, all known reading techniques and guides where any card has any set meaning are simply fake. It's the reader's association with the specific card, the atmosphere and situation and how the flow of energy shifts, that makes the definition of a card in a reading. Saying that the Fool represents a journey or curiosity or whatever breaks it. Makes the reading nothing more than an elaborate, unassisted dice roll. So, uh, you're interested in the occult too? Didn't guess you were," I finished.
"I'm not. If it makes sense, I'm interested in people who are interested in the occult. I know almost nothing about the occult because it always just felt like some silly pretend game... Uh, sorry about saying it like that... But, since everyone I know thinks the same, I've never met anyone who believes in it, so I'm interested to see what you'd have to say about it," she answered as she tilted her head.
"I see. Well..." I reached into my pocket.
"Oh, I didn't mean-" Alicia started, probably assuming I wanted to pay for the meal and leave, but went quiet as she saw me pull a stack of hanafuda cards out.
"Want to see some honest-to-goodness cartomancy *magic* to prove the occult arts don't *have* to be a pretend-game?" I smirked.
"Because if so, then, Alicia, in your name, shall I summon-"
"Everybody, get out of here!" an unmistakable, deep, commanding voice called out from behind. And with it, Alicia's face paled. Of course, of all days, of all places, of all situations... I mean, I knew today would be back luck, but this bad? *Well fuck me doubly.*
"You've never been one to drag innocent civilians in your sick schemes... What changed, Ove-"
"Oh, great Pyroclast, I fear you are mistaken. I am but any normal occult enthusiast. People like you, which is to say, those sensitive to the flow, often mistake me for someone more powerful," I got up, slowly, hands open and raised, leaving my cards on the table as I turned to face the owner of that voice, the "great hero". Of course, that authoritarian hypocrite wasn't buying it.
"What changed, Overture?"
I turned my head for one quick glance at Alicia. She looked terrified, as anyone would in this situation. Guess that's one first date bombed as grandiosely as physically possible. I let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm not here for any fights or sinister plans, Pyroclast. Come on, you of all people should see I'm not wearing any magical armour or anything, just a plain cotton hoodie. We so-called bad guys have lives too. Just let me live this day in peace. You said it yourself, even I would have left everyone here to do whatever they wanted without bothering them," I pleaded.
For a few seconds, he seemed doubtful. Like he might believe me. Like I might have a chance to salvage this date. Until...
"...Lies, it's got to be. You haven't gone out of your lair in civil clothing, eaten at a restaurant or anything, even once. What are you planning?"
"To have a nice evening with a frankly adora- you know what? No, what does it matter? You know I don't go around in unnecessary, violent rampages. You know I'm not geared up for battle. You know that *if you choose to engage me now, you'll be the only reason all these civilians are at risk of getting injured or even dying.* Don't interrogate me, now. Just walk along. Nothing bad will happen."
An explosion behind me was all the answer I got. There was no sound, not from my perspective. Just a sudden heat, a sudden pressure behind me. It didn't even hurt. Only sent me toppling forward. No warning, no ceremony, no nothing. Some fucking hero he is.
No doubt, my cards were done for. It was just an old, cheap stack of perfectly regular hanafuda cards I bought on a vacation years ago. Forget about losing 90% of my power, these cards are the only way of healing magic I had. If I survive this, it'll take months, probably, to heal back up the way regular people do.
But somehow, what I was most worried about...
*Alicia, please have run off before the explosion.*
Was that I really, thoroughly *bombed* the best date I could ask for. | So, look, this is what happened.
I couldn’t tell you how many lives were lost when we fought the Alliance that day. I don’t remember how many times we narrowly dodged a civilian casualty, how many buildings we toppled, how many heroes and villains were lost. When it all came to a head, only seven stood on each side.
I remember scanning over the rows of heroes, ready to pounce at whichever so much flinched. But then King Chrome stepped out of line.
That flashy suit he was so proud of was dented, scratched and burned to shit, he hid his limp as best as he could, and his eyes didn’t waver from the line of heroes in front of him.
I looked across the battlefield to my nemesis, One, the Last of the Atlanteans. He once claimed that when they broke the laws of nature, had their country drowned in the depths of the Atlantic, and had their history wiped from the collective conscience of all humanity, that their spirits remained and amassed into a great power.
One had that power. His memories, his strength, his moral code, all of it was from the collective will of a dead continent.
I had been proud to call him my rival for the past five years.
But, as his eyes were fixed on whatever King Chrome’s next move was, I held my breath and pulled my eyes over to the boss, waiting to see what he was planning, hoping he wouldn’t lay a hand on my nemesis.
Then, King Chrome removed his helmet.
He gave his name and age, where he worked, and what he fought for.
Everyone was stunned into silence. After all, King Chrome, the Silver Devil, the genius philanthropist behind the Pitch Brotherhood, was a twice over college dropout who worked as an intern in the Mayor’s office.
He said that he had friends and family and a wife at home worrying about him. He pointed out all the destruction around us and proposed a ceasefire. Everyone was tired, everyone needed to make sure their loved ones were okay. He argued back and forth with the heroes for an hour, debating why they shouldn’t just arrest him on the spot, declaring that they were still strong enough to take him, claiming that the destruction around us was our fault and not theirs.
Then Evernight stepped up from the hero’s side. And he revealed his identity.
The tightening in my chest stopped. There was finally some leverage on both sides. We could all actually walk away from this peacefully.
And then fucking Hoplite stepped forward and revealed his identity, which drove me crazy for two reasons.
First, we could always see his stupid fucking face through his stupid fucking helmet, so the reveal added nothing to anything going on, except maybe to suck off his own ego.
Second, it encouraged another hero to step up and reveal their identity.
At the end of the day, seven heroes, seven villains, all fourteen of us, knew exactly who the others were. Everyone had leverage.
Each side, holding power over their specific side of the law, was sworn to secrecy.
And everyone went home.
A month had passed and there weren’t any big-name heroes or villains running around. Some folks thought the heroes stopped their patrols because there weren’t villains to capture. Others thought the villains were committing crimes because there were no heroes to challenge. Sometimes a shitty C-list villain would try and rob a museum dressed as a giant chocolate bar or something, and then a shitty C-list hero dressed as a toothbrush wielding a dental floss lasso would stop him.
Otherwise, it all went back to cops and robbers.
Me and a few members of the Pitch Brotherhood met up a few times over the next few weeks. We couldn’t believe what had happened that day. And you know how things get. You’re drinking, you see a crime on the TV in the bar and talk about how you would’ve done it without getting caught, and then you have an epiphany.
See, the heroes were always open and honest about what it was they loved, believed in, and fought for. And those same things were always recited by the press when they’d get in the news. Somehow, we came to the conclusion that maybe we’d get a better reputation if we found somethings to love and care about.
And that’s how I ended up spending the next three days of my life glued to dating apps.
I downloaded Blaze. I loved all the sex, but didn’t feel like any of the girls were dating material. Especially the one that stole my wallet.
I downloaded Cross-Shaped Heart, but religious girls weren’t really my thing. And they didn’t put out like girls on Blaze. I went back to Blaze for a bit.
I downloaded Wedding Bells. The girls on there were even more intense than the ones on Cross-Shaped Heart. So, naturally, I went back to Blaze.
I downloaded The Cave at Hoplite’s suggestion. I learned two things from that experience. One, I learned what a bear was. Two, I learned that Hoplite thought I was gay.
Things finally settled down when I downloaded Venus. The girls seemed like actually people, interested in a decent commitment without being super clingy, and may or may not be down to fuck; if yes, great, if no, maybe on date two. And after heading back to Blaze for a bit.
I talked with Sophie for two months before she agreed to go on a date with me. | 2021-01-07T17:45:52 | 2021-01-07T17:41:36 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] Mythological stories are just an attempt by ignorant humans who watched and described from their point of view the advanced humans/aliens with their scientific gadgets, space ships, weapons, etc. Pick your favorite mythological story and/or character(s) and turn it into a science fiction story.
Inspired by Olympus/Illium by Dan Simmons | Taranga wept as she held the bloody newborn in her arms.
"We cannot feed him," said her husband, "already the people starve and our three boys are as thin as sticks. There are too many of us and the land is too small. He will die anyway, so we might as well kill him now."
Weeping still, the mother of the newborn lifted her chin defiantly,
"You will not kill him; I will. I will take Māui to the sea and there I will drown him myself."
Makeatutara regarded his wife from under hooded brows, then jerked his hand at the entrance to the hut,
"Go then woman. Our sons need some kai, so be quick about it."
Taranga held the boy in the shallows of the beach but she could not do it. None of this was *his* fault; the child had not asked to be born.
With a blessing to Tangaroa, the god of the sea, she cut off a piece of her topknot and used it to tie together a rough coracle of driftwood. Pushing the baby out into the surf, she sang him a tearful waiata of farewell, hoping against all hope that the gods would guard and guide her baby to a better life.
----------
Tangaroa heard the song of the woman from the beach.
Deep in his ocean home, the new home of the alien refugees from another world, he considered the plight of the Māori living on the spit of land called Aoteroa. It was the fault of the aliens that the Māori had so little land - the aliens had thought this world largely uninhabited and had raised the ocean levels to make it habitable. Afterwards they had discovered the native people and realised their error.
But it was too late now; nothing could be done.
At the least though, he could save this one child and bring him to his domain.
Sending Tama-nui-te-ra to rescue the child, Tangaroa turned his massive green-blue bulk on the ocean floor and considered the wreckage of their landing craft. They were stuck here now; there would be no more journeys to other planets, searching for compatible oceans - this was their home now. What technology they had left would serve to conceal them from the people of the land, should they ever become advanced enough to plumb the depths.
Māui was raised by Tama-nui-te-ra in an ocean cave until he was old enough to return to his family. The alien was a juvenile, nothing like the size of Tangaroa, so it could nurture and feed the human boy without frightening him too much. To make matters easier, Tama-nui-te-ra implanted Māui with the basic technology they gave all their youngsters, allowing Māui to swim in the ocean without needing to breathe and to metabolise solid food into nutrients, in the absence of his mother's milk.
"You are a silly, weak creature, Māui," said Tama-nui-te-ra, but he loved the boy and looked after him well.
----------
When Māui was twelve Tama-nui-te-ra took him to the edge of the human village and left him there,
"These are your people, you must live with them. Now that you are old enough to feed yourself they cannot turn you away."
And with that, the scaled, blue-green alien was gone, vanishing as if he had never existed.
Māui cried, but he knew the alien was right - he needed to be with his people; he had a powerful longing to be with other humans.
Before he entered the village he regarded the curved, white, bone-like surface of the stolen piece of the alien technology he had hidden in his topknot - it would always remind him of Tama-nui-te-ra.
No one in the village believed it was him, not even his mother.
"I *am* Māui," he insisted, "Tangaroa sent a... spirit to save me!"
The village chief was ready to cast him out, to have the village warriors throw Māui back into the sea, but he panicked and the alien artefact cast holograms of huge, fierce native birds in front to the warriors - terrifying Haast eagles and powerful legged moas - and the tattooed men cowered in fear of Māui's power.
"He is a magician," said one and people started to believe Māui's story.
----------
Māui lived with his people and became a man, eventually acknowledged by his mother for his great feats of bravery and strength.
But the problem of overcrowding had become so dire that even with an entire village out fishing, there was still not enough food. People were starting to die.
He and his brothers were out sailing when Māui decided to fix the situation.
"I will fish up a creature large enough to feed all of us for generations!" he declared.
His brothers laughed at him and said "Well, since you are the great Māui, you can't use any of our fishing gear! You can do it yourself."
Māui wasn't sure this would work, but it was worth a try.
"Fine, I will use the jawbone of our great ancestor then," he declared, taking out the alien artefact, "I will use it as a fish hook!"
"What will you use for bait?"
In response, Māui punched himself in the nose and smeared blood all over the artefact, before casting it into the deeps on the end of a fishing line.
He had only intended to bring one of the aliens to the surface to impress his brothers, but not knowing how to properly use the artefact, Māui accidentally activated and overloaded the ruined engines of the crashed starship.
Deep beneath the waves a massive explosion occurred, destroying the technology that kept the sea levels so high.
As the boat rocked and heaved in the rapidly fluctuating water levels, Māui struggled to haul the jawbone to the surface.
By the time he finally pulled it up, the boat sat on a new island, revealed under the receding ocean.
"Māui fished up a whole *island!* screamed the brothers.
Then they set out to explore the new land.
| Nick scratched at his white beard and stared hard at the blue planet before him. He shook his head slightly and returned his gaze to the report.
“I don’t get it. Is it a cult?”
“No, sir, I don’t think that’s accurate,” said Puck.
“Agreed,” said Una as her eyes darted quickly over the screen. “He’s far too popular for it to be a cult. I would say it’s a religion.”
Puck looked unconvinced.
"I don't think they *worship* him."
“Right,” said Nick. “They worship . . . what’s his name? Chris?”
“Christ, sir,” said Una.
“Right. Him.”
Una never looked up. She was three pages ahead of everyone else.
“Looks like he’s big in Japan, too,” she said.
“What? Why? I thought they were all Buddies over there.”
“Buddhists, sir.”
“Right. Those.”
Puck skipped to the end of the report to read the conclusions. Nick waved away his screen and sighed heavily.
“I never imagined I would become a human icon.”
Una finally tore her eyes from her screen.
“What were you expecting, sir? You flew down there on SL-A skimmer with 8 gravity-resistant horned ungulates--”
“Nine,” piped in Puck. “We brought a bioluminescent one, too.”
“Fine. Nine of them. Then you started handing out gifts to their young.”
“In all fairness, both Nick and I thought those were adults. Humans grow much larger than elfen.”
“I’m not trying to assign blame to anyone,” said Una. “I likely would have made the same mistakes given the information available at the time, but now we know more.”
“Yes,” said Nick, “now we know more. But what good does it do us? Apparently I’m ingrained upon the collective consciousness of the planet itself. This mission was supposed to be low-key.”
Nick stood up from his chair and stretched. He was sweating a bit. He would have preferred for the cabin to stay at cooler temperatures, but he needed to be prepared for the heat. Earth’s poles were pleasant enough, but equatorial temperatures could cause an average elfen to go into shock if they weren't prepared.
Puck cleared his throat and dismissed his screen.
“I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe we should leave them off the list?”
Nick whirled around and Una’s eyes grew wide.
“Leave them -- leave an *entire planet* ---” sputtered Nick.
“I don’t like it either, sir,” said Puck, “but I don’t know how we’re supposed to move among them without causing a crisis.”
Una continued to read. That was the only option available to her. She felt repulsed but the nature of Puck’s suggestion, but without a solution to offer Nick, she would have to agree.
Nick slumped back into his chair.
“Well . . . what if -- I mean, we could . . . I could wear a different Suit?”
Puck shook his head.
“Sir, you know you wouldn’t be able to survive the mission without the Red Suit.”
“I know,” said Nick. “I know.”
“Maybe if we come back in another two thousand years they’ll have forgotten about you.”
“Maybe.”
Nick slowly tapped at the console on his chair, preparing to move the ship back out to deep space.
“Wait!” shouted Una. “Read section 11b.”
She grabbed the data and threw it to the others’ screens. Nick’s brow furrowed.
“Costumed actors?” he muttered.
Puck read, but shook his head.
“Una, this is a societal ritual. We would need to integrate into the church before Nick could participate in something like this.”
“No,” said Una, “I don’t think we do. It’s like you said earlier, Nick himself is not a religious icon. I think we just need to put him at one of these marketplaces and the population will come to him.”
Puck frowned and continued reading. Nick reached the end of section 11b and his smile slowly began to return to his face.
“So we just need to find one of these market hubs and sit there?”
“Yes. They’ll assume you’re one of the actors. There is some minimal setup that might be required to sell the illusion, but Puck and I can take the Green Suits and get it done in under an hour.”
“What’s your take, Puck?” asked Nick.
Puck reached the end of the section and paused. His frown faded.
“It could work,” he said.
“Then it’s settled,” Nick said, hopping up out of his chair. “I’m ordering a mission to ‘Mall’.”
“Yes, sir,” said Puck and Una in unison. They hopped out from their stations and ran towards the launch bay.
Nick leaned against his chair and basked in Earth's reflective glow. With any luck, humanity's list would receive its requisite second-check. He laughed at nothing in particular and shouted to the empty bridge:
“Nick Sinterklaas is coming to town!” | 2015-03-08T22:11:56 | 2015-03-08T21:48:32 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You are a food critic that can immediately identify all the ingredients used in the food after just one bite. Because of your negative reviews, many people dislike you. You are tasting a famous restaurant's steak. But after a bite, you identify that one of the ingredients is cyanide. | I chewed delicately, parsing out the flavors. Filet mignon, medium rare. Ancho chile, paprika, brown sugar, espresso – ah, a coffee rub. Interesting. The mustard was overpowering, unfortunately, and it didn’t quite go with…
I tilted my head as I swallowed. Who in their right mind would pair bitter almond with –?
Oh.
For a moment, I just sat there with my hand on my wineglass, thoughts spiraling through my mind. Cyanide. Someone was trying to poison me. And with how aggressive that flavor cut through the rest, I knew I didn’t have long. So I may as well make things easy for the police, when they arrived.
I quietly summoned my waiter and explained that I would presently be in need of an ambulance. He sped with purpose out of the dining room, heading for the closest phone, while I pulled out my notepad and wrote down a list of possible suspects, trying to keep my hand steady. I doubted that it would be anyone at Marblescar Steakhouse; that would be too forward. The owner of Sushi Nagoya, maybe, or Kandiyohi Pasta Company. It could really be anyone whose food I had critiqued, to be honest. And that was half of the Twin Cities.
My lungs struggled to draw in a breath and I knew the cyanide was starting to work. I had minutes, at most. Ah, well. I sipped my wine as the waiter informed me that the ambulance was on its way. Before he could leave, I passed him my credit card – no sense letting anyone lambaste me after my inevitable death, that I stiffed the poor man on his tip. And the minute he left my side, I downed the remainder of my wine. May as well go out in style: drowned in Malbec, strangled by cyanide. | Juicy, tender, crispy on the edges. The cooking is a perfect medium rare, its shades of red layered like a great crimson mesa. Yet, this steak tastes like shit. You pause. You don't need special powers to devine this. These fucking retards didn't realize that cyanide is very, very bitter. You feel its effects immediately as you plunge into eternal darkness and descend into nothingness. Is this how you die? What would ma say? At least you died doing what you like, watching people die from cyanide poisoning. | 2018-10-04T07:03:11 | 2018-10-04T06:57:14 | 389 | 11 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | Every day I take care of my baby girl. I make sure she's getting enough to eat, make sure she's comfortable and happy. It's all I can do. The mother doesn't want me to see her, but that's typical of that bitch. She's got another man watching my daughter, but they don't take care of her; not like I do. I rock her, cradle her, sing her to sleep. They make me feel like I'm not even supposed to see her. Just because she's not biologically mine, I have to hide in the walls of her home and wait until no one's around just to see her.
* * *
I feel like there's a man in the walls of our house. He comes out to touch and do things to my baby. My husband doesn't believe me, but I see signs of him everywhere. My husband just says that there's rats in the walls. We set out rat traps, but the rat always takes the food. I've tried poisoning the food, but it just doesn't seem to do anything. I'm terrified. I keep telling everyone there's a man in my house and no one believes me. Now CPS even wants to take my child away. They tell me I'm insane just because I feed my child cat food.
* * *
My work at Child protective services is unpleasant. Every day I have to investigate some new horror. Everyone is mistreating their children. Sometimes I wonder if there's any good parents left in this world. My newest case is the strangest yet. A woman claims a man is living in her walls, stalking her infant. The husband claims the baby isn't even his. They're feeding the child pet food, and not even because they're poor. All I know is that I have to put a stop to this, all of it. If this child goes missing, who would we even know to blame? Wall man? The wife? The Husband? Once I summon Lord Zaranthakuhl all of this will be over, and my work has finally led me to the perfect child to be the sacrifice. | I awake to the sun creeping between the fins of my blinds. A clear day after what seems a lifetime of clouds. I open the door and walk down the hall. In the kitchen I make a pot of coffee, the aroma breaks the stale smell of morning as I open the windows to let in the fresh morning air. My wife is at the table in front of her cereal, the kids are on the couch, as always, in front of the tv. I pour my coffee and step out to the front porch for a cigarette. The fresh air feels new, a new day, a new start. I finish my cigarette and set my mug down. I pick up my bag, give everyone a kiss, wipe the blood off my shoes, clean off the knife from last night and start my new life. | 2016-05-19T12:26:48 | 2016-05-19T08:22:28 | 262 | 124 |
[WP] You are a supervillain infamous for kidnapping attractive members of the opposite sex. While everyone thinks you are evil, you are really just being a wingman for your superhero rival. | Cracking open a vial of smelling salt, I watch as the scent awaken my newest "guest". Her big almond eyes shot open as she shakes her head, dazed for a moment. Just seconds after, she looks around frantically at the dimly lit room before spotting me standing right next to her. A mixture of fear and anger fills her whole face.
I grin at her. "Good morning, sleepy head."
"Who the hell are you?" she hisses at me, "Where am I?!" She tries to intimidate me by trying to pounce, only to realize that she's tied to her chair.
I laugh as I ran my hand through my jet black hair, "Have fun with that. But I'd rather if you'd stay still. It won't be long now."
"W-What are you talking about?" she asks, her voice shaking ever so slightly, "L-Let me go!"
"Don't worry too much," I reassure her before removing a small knife from the inside of my vest and brandishing it in front of her, "You should be thankful, really. The fact that you're here with me means a lot."
She scoffs at me as she blows a strand of her curly auburn hair away from her face, "Because you only kidnap good-looking women? Don't make me laugh. Get me out of here!"
With one swift movement, I approach her. Standing behind her with my knife just below her chin, I whisper to her ear, "I'd appreciate it if you don't struggle, my dear." I feel her shiver.
"Y-You don't scare me," she taunts helplessly, "You're sick, you know that? A guy like you, kidnapping helpless girls for your own gain-"
I laugh, which startles her, before I whisper to her again, "My, my. I didn't kidnap you for myself." Her eyes widen as I glide my blade towards her back, shaping out her jaw. She closes her eyes as she hears a sharp tear before I place a rose on her lap and back away quickly.
As if on queue, a caped figure blasts through the roof of the room, letting in the moonlight with her. She brushes her striking red hair away from her shoulder before marching towards my "victim".
"Oh my god, thank you! You came just in time!" My hostage exclaims as her hands fly up, free from the rope.
Her face softens with relief to see the girl unharmed. "I'm glad you're okay, miss-" Anger rushes right back to her, however, when she spots the rose on her lap. She lets out a loud "ugh" before shouting my name and slapping her hand on her forehead.
I sheepishly walk out of the darkness and wave at her. "Nice night, isn't it?"
"Didn't I tell you to stop hooking me up with random girls? I swear I'll straggle you," she shouts at me angrily, completely ignoring our confused guest.
"Dude, you need to let loose. I'm telling you, I'm doing you a favor," I joke a her, "She's cute! Give her a chance, c'mon. This is right out of a romance novel."
She growls at me but stops when our guest speaks up, blushing, "I-Is this what I think it is?"
My superhero rival looks at her and gushes, blushing just as hard.
I laugh and coo at them, "See? You're hitting it off just fine."
Needless to say, I still got knocked out. But I'm sure I'm not the only one getting "knocked out" tonight. | "You're a grown man. I can't keep doing this every time you get a crush."
Captain Good, aka Benjamin Blanke, met my eyes over his beer.
"I have a diagnosis!" he said in a tone suspiciously similar to a whine. "There's even a doctor's note!"
I shook my head. "The whole point of being diagnosed with antisocial disorder is so that you can work on getting better while not feeling bad about it. Not," I gave him a look to cut him off when he opened his mouth to speak, "having a convenient excuse for being too scared to ask people out."
"Okay, fine," Ben said, changing tactics, "but why does it even matter to you? It's not like you care about the moral aspects. And it would only help your reputation."
I took another sip of Coke (alcohol and supervillians tended not to mix well) as I considered this.
"Well-" I began, just as I noticed the time displayed on my watch. "Oh, damn, I have to go. I have a meeting with Blaster to discuss the bombing next week."
Ben sighed, and I privately agreed with the unspoken sentiment. It seemed that we never had time to meet up these days without an interruption, the way old friends were supposed to do.
"Look, Ben," I said, waving over the bartender. "You're a superhero. Maybe in incognito, but still. Just ask her out. Worst case scenario she refuses and you sulk about it for a week, then forget about it."
Ben pulled out his wallet, his tone turning urgent. "You don't understand! She's switching workplaces next week; there's no way I can gather the courage before then!"
"Why do you even want this girl so bad?" I asked, suddenly curious. Ben wasn't often this stubborn.
"She- she's pretty and smart and funny and I'm never going to find anyone like her. Alex, please."
I found myself suddenly in the path of Ben's infamous sad-puppy eyes.
"Please?"
I stood up, already knowing that this wasn't going to end well. "Fine. Send me the address."
Ben grinned.
"Thanks, man. You're the best."
I smiled back, then hurriedly left the bar before he could realize that I'd saddled him with the bill. | 2017-07-23T01:38:20 | 2017-07-22T23:25:52 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] The hero is enjoying a day off thanks to a rare quiet night in the city. That is until the villain shows up to her door, but carrying an unconscious woman and looking distraught. “I saved her from a party....I know this is weird, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” |
“So quiet tonight. No alerts and it’s almost one a.m.,” she said out loud to herself as she looked at the large screen of her alert system.
For Sierra Pierce, Los Angeles’ hero who everyone named Silver after her eye color, it was strange to see a lack of crime on any given night. She was fast, agile and skilled in various martial arts. The citizens compared her moves to that of a cat.
She switched off the screen and walked to her kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. “Might as well enjoy the night.” She poured herself a glass and slumped on a couch with music playing in the background and a book in her hand.
Not a minute had passed since she began reading the book when her doorbell rang. She placed the glass and the book down on the table and walked to the door. She got into a defensive stance when she saw Sparks, the city’s most well-known villain. He was called so because he always created new electronic devices to disrupt the peace in the city.
She turned angry as she saw the unconscious woman in his hands. “What did you do to her, Sparks?”
“I saved her from a party…” He stepped back. “I know this is weird but I didn't know who else to go to.”
“Maybe a hospital, Sparks.” She helped him take the woman inside and lay her down on her couch. “What were you thinking when you brought her here? We should get her to a doctor.”
“No. See, she was at a party involving a lot of illegal drugs. She would get sent to prison if the hospital finds out she had been consuming them.” He looked at her helplessly.
“Which one?” She checked her pulse and temperature.
“Buzz 2.0. The new one on the market.”
“Her pulse and temperature seems normal. What about the others?” She sat down on a couch.
“They seemed alright. As a villain, I cannot call the cops on them. You know that.”
“Why come to me?”
“Because I know you are a chemist.” He rubbed his neck nervously.
“How do you know that? An assumption?” Her tone was almost mocking.
“I followed you yesterday. From early morning four when you were battling Hammer up till an hour ago. I noticed her collapse in the backyard of the house where the party was going on as I was having dinner on top of the building opposite yours.” He took a few steps back as she got up abruptly.
“How dare you!”
“I’m so sorry, Silver. Please see if you can help her.”
The woman groaning as she gained consciousness made them stop arguing. They turned around to see her sit up and stretch as if she had been sleeping. She stood up slowly. She froze when she turned around and saw Sparks with a woman she could not recognize. “Where am I?”
“You’re alright?” Sparks took a step towards her. She stepped back in fear.
“Y...Yes.” She tripped and fell back on a couch. Her eyes widened when she spotted Silver’s mask on the coffee table. “What did you do with Silver?”
“Nothing. I am alright.” Sierra approached her and extended a hand towards her. “I am Silver.”
The woman went quiet as she observed Sierra’s silvery eyes. “You two are friends?”
“No. He brought you here when you got knocked out at the party. This is my apartment.”
“But isn't he the bad guy?” She looked quizzically at Sparks who sat on a couch beside the one she sat on.
“Uh... I did save you. I only like to have fun with my devices on the streets of LA. I don’t mean to harm anyone.”
Silver placed a hand on his shoulder. “He might even be a hero for all I know. He is harmless despite the random acts of vandalism every night.”
His phone rang. He picked it up and walked to a corner of the room.
When he finished the call, he walked up to Silver. “Can you drop her at her home? I have a job to do.”
“I was hoping you wouldn't go off to vandalize something so soon.” Silver sounded disappointed.
“Who said I was going for a job as Sparks? I am on-call and there is a patient, a child, who was brought in unconscious after tripping down a staircase.” He pocketed his phone.
“You are a doctor?” The woman was surprised.
“A paediatrician. Electronics is a hobby.” He walked to the door and turned around and smiled at the two women. “Duty calls, ladies. See you around, Silver.”
A hero by day. A villain by night. | “So we meet again -”
“Move, this is isn’t a joke.”
I observed my arch nemesis carefully laying down a woman on the floor. I silently pull out a minuscule dagger I kept at all time in my sleeve. She wasn’t going to get away with it.
“Are you framing me ?”
“Framing you ?” She turned, still kneeling down, only to find herself in front of my glorious weapon. “Oh put that away, this is ridiculous. Is this really how you look like suit less ? That’s really disappointing,” she added, looking at me up and down.
I sat down on the nearest chair, still pointing my blade toward her, and took a spit of my beer. “Kimono are in season,” I threw on a defying tone. “You don’t look great either. Now give me one reason not to kill you right now.”
“I need your help.”
I burst out loud. “Do you know who needed help ? Those poor employees of the bank you robed not later than this morning. There’s no way I’m helping you.”
I watched her as she gently whips some blood off of the woman’s face. “This is my wife,” she muttered in a broken voice. “And I’ll have you know I’ve never hurt anyone, I’m just stealing, there’s nothing wrong with stealing from the powerful. Last time I checked, capitalism was the bad guy.”
I frowned, surprised of this answer. “Your wife ?”
“You have a problem with that ?” she exclaimed, throwing a dark look at me.
“Well no, I mean… I have nothing against… Well… You looked straight... But…”
“Shut up and help me.” A few tears had rolled down her face.
I resigned to get up from my seat, and knelt next to her. “What happened ?”
“We were at a party, and I went to the bathroom for less than two minutes. When I came back, she wasn’t there anymore. I looked everywhere for her, and I finally found her curled in the corner of the garden, unconscious and covered in blood. I don’t what happened.”
“And why not going to a hospital ?”
“Right, so the police can come get me as soon as I stepped foot there.”
I pushed my finger against her neck. “She has a pulse. Are you sure she completely unconscious when you find her ?”
“She awoke from time to time as we got here.”
I got up and clapped my hands. “Well then it’s settled. She got into a fight and probably received a punch on the head. She’ll be fully conscious in a few minutes.”
She gave me an unconvinced look.
I sighed. “I’m not a doctor, alright ? Look, you can spend the night here if it reassure you.” I yawned. “I’m going to hit the bed, big day tomorrow of fighting crime and spreading justice.”
“Are you really letting me sleep here ? Are you dumb ? What makes you so sure I won’t kill you in your sleep ?”
I raised my brows. “Dressed like that I highly doubt it. Good night sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite.”
Iron Marx found herself alone in Super Offshore’s living room. She patted her wife’s shoulder.
“Did he buy it ?” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
Iron Marx smirked. “Yes he did. What an idiot.” | 2019-05-20T22:44:55 | 2019-05-20T22:43:17 | 254 | 72 |
[WP] As you die an atheist, God stands before you, and asks why you didn’t adhere to his teachings. What do you say? | *Bronyprime, my son, your apostasy saddens me. You had my books right there, yet you rejected my teachings. Why? What have I done that was so horrible that you turned away from me?*
At first, I didn't hear where the voice was coming from. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, and I was in pitch black darkness. The voice finally coalesced into a source, and a light emerged from the darkness.
"I honestly have no idea who you are. What books are you talking about?"
The light grew brighter at that point, and then the surrounding blackness disappeared as a peaceful meadow took its place. Bright flowers for miles, with some mountains further in the distance. A cool spring breeze blew by, and the bright point of light took a glowing humanoid form. No face or other features, yet.
*I am thy lord God, creator of all, and you have come before me because I want to understand you, to give you the chance to repent and come with me to Heaven.*
The voice seemed to come from that form, but I still mostly heard it in my head.
"I figured you were a god, but which one? There are literally thousands of gods worshipped at one point or another, each with his or her own preferred writings, and none of them with any shred of evidence that there is any validity to any of them. I don't have anything to repent over."
*My teachings are in my holy book. There is no god but me, and those who claim to worship other gods do so in folly. I am the Alpha, the Omega, the beginning and the end. I am the god that Abraham himself worshipped, and his offspring, and their offspring, so on and so forth to become my chosen people. I gave my teachings to my favored prophets, so that they could spread my word. You rejected these words, and I want to know why you would damn your soul so willingly.*
"If you are that god, then I refuse to worship you. You ask a father to kill his child as a sign of faith. If the writings done in your name are even 1% accurate, then you are a monster deserving of the deepest pits of your own hell. You give us free will, and then punish us for using that free will when you don't like the outcome. You play with our minds and hearts. If Exodus is to be believed, then what you did to the pharaoh is inexcusable! Moses demanded that he let the Hebrews go, and he agreed! On the first request, he agreed! You, in your 'infinite wisdom,' hardened the pharaoh's heart and changed his mind. In response to your own meddling, you caused a plague upon Egypt. Moses asked again for the freedom of the Hebrews, the pharaoh agreed to release them, and again you hardened his heart. You did this 10 times! You are shameful, vile, and a disgrace to what it means to be a god! Your writings specifically endorse slavery! You and your ass-backwards morality think it is OK to own people as property. Why anybody would worship you is beyond my understanding. You want me to repent to you?!? YOU NEED TO REPENT TO US!" I didn't realize I had been approaching him until I was face to face. Well, face to glow. "Maybe your writings would have been taken seriously if they were actually relevant or important. Maybe provide information that doesn't look like it was already the belief system of ancient sheep-herders. Give us *something* we could actually point to to validate you and your teachings as valid!"
I took a deep breath and stepped back.
"My actions in life are far superior to your teachings. People are people and not property. Women and men should not live in the inequality that your books promote. Just about the only overlap between us is that I did what I could to treat people with kindness and respect, help others when possible, and be a person that my kids respected. Joke's on you, though. Those basic tenets are part of just about every religion. You don't get to claim them for yourself. So, you and your teachings are 100% worthy of every rejection they get. You wanted to know why I rejected you? Look in a mirror and ask again."
Without waiting for a reply, I turn my back on the glowing form and walk away. I'm not sure where I was going, but I knew where I didn't want to be. | I stared at the glowing being before me, pondering his question… and then snorted. “For a so-called omnipotent being, you’re dense.”
‘God’ tensed. “What?”
I snorted again, crossing my arms. “Your ‘teachings’? Out of all the things to ask an atheist, that’s what you nitpick?” I rolled my eyes. “So not the fact that most of your ‘followers’ are nutcases? Or horrible people who proclaim that you are against a person being gay or a woman taking power? Or maybe the fact that there are good people out there, who pray and pray for a miracle, only to lose *everything*, while bad people get whatever they want? Or maybe it’s the fact that most of your ‘followers’ don’t follow your teachings anyways, but still have a good life?” I glared at him. “I have a lot of reasons not to believe in you or your ‘teachings’. And even now I don’t. I’ll bet you’re nothing more than an illusion in my mind.”
“I know it seems harsh-”
“‘Harsh’?” I laughed, my voice devoid of any humour. “How about the fact that I lost my parents to a mugger, who still hasn’t been caught? Despite that I prayed every day, for five *years*? Or that my boyfriend got into a car accident, survived, but got amnesia? He *still* can’t remember me, or the last four years!” I glared hard. “How can I believe in the teachings of someone, who keeps letting horrible things happen to those just trying to get by?! What gives **you** the right to take my parents from me?! What gives ***you*** the right to take my first and only love from me?! What did I *ever* do to make you want to take **everything** from me?!?!”
I turned away, hugging myself as tears fell. “How can I follow the teachings of a being who claims to be good, yet is so cold…?”
I got no response from ‘God’ and just laughed. “Besides, it’s just not possible for an entire *solar system* to be created in a *week*, not counting the rest of the universe? It’s not possible to actually split a sea in half, or flood the entire world without evidence being left behind. And what about the dinosaurs? Can you explain their fossils? Or that the oldest rocks in the solar system are 4.6 billion years old, the oldest on Earth being 4.4?” I glared at his shining form, tears streaming down my face. “So, do you have answers? Or am I too much of an ‘ant’ for you to bother with anymore?”
I stared at him, waiting for a response, before huffing and walking off. “Screw you. I don’t need you to answer. You’re not real. But since I’m a ghost now, excuse me while I go find my parents who *you* murdered.”
With that, I left him behind, walking into the clouds. He wasn’t worth my time… ‘God’ wasn’t worth anyone’s time…
Because he wasn’t real. | 2021-07-05T23:03:52 | 2021-07-05T23:03:06 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm. | I'd gotten home earlier than expected, only to find the door of our little house in the country, pried open. Splintered shards of dark wood had been sprayed far into the house.
"Mark?" I said, hurrying inside. "Oh, Jesus." Mark lay on the floor in the living room, blood gurgling out of a jagged wound in his stomach and dyeing the carpet a deep, wine-red. "Oh God, baby," I said, kneeling by his side and taking his hand in mine. I could see that the skin around the wound was black, and the smell of singed skin wafted up my nostrils. "It's- it's going to be okay-"
Mark tried to speak - he tried to tell me that there was a man behind me in the doorway, and that I had to run - but all he managed was a rasp of air.
I screamed as a terrible heat seared my left cheek. The bolt of lightning had just missed me, but had still been near enough to cause a wicked pain and send me sprawling to the floor.
A voice tutted, and I saw a large man with blonde hair stride into the room. "Pity you had to come home, too. I do hate killing people, but..." He smiled and clasped his hands together; a puddle of light began to grow between them. It started as a dim glow, but was becoming more intense with every passing second.
"You- you're so brave," I stuttered, touching my scorched face with a hand, "and you must be *so* powerful to have beaten my non magical husband."
"Shh," he grinned, as the light continued to grow. He was slowly pulling his hands apart, stretching wide a dancing arc of brilliant light.
I could see he was young and arrogant. I could do this, I just had to concentrate. I had to forget about Mark, at least for now.
"If we met under different circumstances, your incredible magic would have me *drooling*."
"Oh?" he said. At least he was listening to me.
"Sure, my panties would have been off, like, two minutes ago. You're handsome, too. Your endless acne is like a million beauty spots; your nose, the perfect coat hanger."
"What are you doing?" he asked, scowling. The intensity of the light was waning slightly. I got up onto my knees, encouraged.
"I'm not usually into larger people, but somehow the weight *really* suits you. You've got this bloated, pale walrus vibe going on, and no woman can resist that. And that chin strap beard, it really frames your face."
"..."
"Not to mention how good you smell! I was wondering, as I was driving home, just *what is* that wonderfully pungent aroma, hanging over the countryside? Now I know!"
The lightning in his hands was dissipating, and I could feel my own power bubbling up inside my body.
"You're- you're just trying to distract me!" he spat. But it was too late, his power was dying and I understood why.
He tried to shoot the remaining light at me, but it fell like a brick to the floor before reaching me, fizzing into nothing on the frayed carpet. I saw his hands tremble, as red light began to bathe me.
"If you're as good in bed as you are with magic, you must be the world's greatest lover," I said, throwing my arms forward and commanding the red fury to leave my body and latch onto him.
The intruder screamed as the spell ate into him, gnawing at his skin and devouring his eyes like a hungry acid. He tried to run, but the red fury wouldn't leave him. I knew he wouldn't even make it down the drive.
The man's powers had fed off our emotions - of us being *scared* of him. But I hadn't been frightened enough, and Mark had lost conciousness. I turned to my husband and cradled his head in my arms.
"Honey," I whispered, "It's going to be okay."
Mark didn't respond. He didn't move.
I took a deep breath, as tears trickled down my face. "You're so stupid," I said to him. "Thinking I love you, when really I think you're the worst. The absolute worst. I'm actually extremely happy you're dying on me. I think I can live an *amazing* life without you. I'd had an absolutely terrible life with you in it, so now - so now, it's going to be brilliant. So much better."
The magic ran through my body once more - I felt it as blue, this time - and I channelled it into him.
"I cheated on you tons, and it was so easy, because *everybody* loves me and can put up with me. You're not the only person in my life. Uh uh. Nope. If there's one thing I know for sure, I can *definitely* live without you."
---
/r/nickofnight
| They say that you don't pick your familiar, your familiar picks you.
They say a lot of really stupid things.
"Surrender, James. You cannot hope to escape." I mean, who the fuck picks ***water*** as their familiar, right? Go-with-the-flow, steady, impassive, boring as all fuck. "My brother and I have you, you cannot escape two Masters."
I mean, listen to that little shit. *No* emotion in his voice, perfect monotone. Unbelievable. I sidestepped his shackling and countered with a spell of my own creation - it zipped around haphazardly in no particular pattern, a firework of perfect entropy, seeking chaos.
Of course he dodged it, he *was* a **Master** after all, the jackass. Heh, jackass. His name was Jack. Score one for me.
"Jack, Jack, the impassive sack. Steady and straight and quite the quack!!" His face grew bright red, *finally* a fucking reaction, Jesus Christ. That was almost more effort than it was worth!
Almost.
"James. *HEY MORON!* You can't win, dude." Ah, yes. The brother. Jordan. Fire to his brother's water. I *know* you can sense the eyeroll here. They probably huddled together on Dedication Day, said some quip about being part of the other half's whole, and as long as water and fire worked together, they could accomplish *anything!*
I'd put money on it.
"Jordan, the hot-headed...uh...accordion?" I scratched my head, cleanly deflecting his signature flame pillar with my own chaotic shield. "Yeah, I got nothing dude. Your name is stupid." *Jordan* was extremely easy - and satisfying as *fuck* - to get a reaction from. Fire - passionate, burning, fickle, full of energy. The problem was by antagonizing him I was only making him stronger.
More fun, I guess.
Jack sighed, deep and long. Dramatic much? "Fine. If you won't come quietly..." I mean, I could tell he was going for this epic, dramatic pause. Especially when he looked at his brother and nodded. Like they were saying:
"You ready big bro?"
"I'm ready little bro!"
"Alright, here it comes. We *did* warn him!"
"That we did, little bro!"
"I love you big bro!"
"I love you too, little bro."
All with one pathetic, *nauseating* look passed between them. I just rolled my eyes as they readied their combination attack.
That's enough.
Director's voice - no one knew his real name - rang through the PA system in our sparring ground. I felt the atmosphere *shift*, and my mind swam as my emotions righted themselves.
I slapped Jordan on the back. "Man, you were *really* gonna come at me? You two are fucking *MASTERS* man, how the fuck was I supposed to deflect that?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Because you are *literally* unbearable when Director takes down your emotional walls. Holy shit."
I smiled. "Figuratively."
"What?"
"Not literally. Makes no sense, friend." He punched me on the arm as we walked back to the mess hall, all three of us laughing about how ridiculous I had been acting. It was a mental state I'd have to get used to. Drawing power from sarcasm was...intoxicating. But certainly dangerous. Too sure of myself, it's something I'd have to work on.
Yeah, right. | 2017-07-20T11:08:16 | 2017-07-20T11:01:04 | 6,275 | 70 |
[WP] God has tried and failed to end the world multiple times since 2015. It's pretty clear something made him indecisive. | We'd made a deal. That day when the lightning had come without the thunder, when fires had sprouted like flowers in the spring rains.
Our house of cards in an autumn gale; our walls of glass in a hailstorm. I'd been there when he'd made his decision, and I'd been there when he changed his mind.
"We're your masterpiece," I'd said, and the lightning ceased. A tornado descended, thunder's drums finally beat.
"Are you?" he asked when he was before me in his celestial form. Not human, because we weren't masterpiece enough; not inhuman, because we were as good as he'd managed to make.
I shrugged. I'd not expected it to work. I'd expected the next lightning bolt to smite me; the flood to come to drown me. "Sure."
"I thought you more a defect," he retorted.
He wasn't wrong. We were that last line of code on the day of the release, slipped in with the hope that it wouldn't all fall apart. But it had. Not in a day and not in a year, but thousands of years later and we'd all but done what he couldn't bring himself to do.
"Just let it be," I urged. What I took to be his arms crossed; what I took to be his face furrowed deep with thought. He tapped his foot and the earth quaked. "Trust me," I pressed. "We'll take care of it ourselves."
"How's that?"
I gestured vaguely. At the desert, vast as the sole of his foot under which he'd crush us. At the sky, distant as could be as it soaked up our prayers. At where we stood, that was once a luscious forest full of flora and fauna.
"Another blink for you, probably. A lifetime or two for someone like me. Before you know it, we'll be gone."
"Why?"
I scoffed. Who fucking knew? "Human nature, I guess. You tell me. You made us."
I didn't expect him to know. I'd written code like that before--so complex and muddled that even I didn't know what it'd been designed to do. That was us.
"Look, just take a break. Sit back and let the prayers fade into the darkness. Like you have been. We'll take care of getting rid of us for you."
I could somehow see amusement in that indecipherable swirl of sand and dust. "Fine," he said. "Keep doing what you're doing and we have a deal."
Figuratively, we shook. I knew us better than our own creator did. Things could change, but we never would.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | As I stare across the scorched field bordering my neighborhood, I wonder:
*Why did the fire stop?*
This inferno sprang into existence with finger-snapping quickness, then dissipated into the sky like fire rain falling in reverse. Even the fire marshall was baffled by this strange phenomenon. Given that he hasn't expressed a hint of emotion in the ten years I've known him, his episode of fear (however brief) stirs more dread within me than the blackened earth languishing outside my bedroom window.
These infernos raged all over the world last night, then were snuffed out at exactly the same time: 1:03 AM.
This *can't* be a coincidence. Although I'm not religious, I can't help but wonder if God is angry with us.
\---
It's been three days since the fires, and now everyone in town has contracted a mysterious disease. None of the local doctors can determine its cause. We're all in perfect health according to their tests, and shouldn't be exhibiting such bizarre symptoms.
For example, our corneas bleed at random times, as do our mouths and ears. The pain that accompanies these episodes is excruciating, and often leaves sufferers bedridden for hours.
A part of me wishes that the inferno leveled the town last night--for then our suffering would end, and our curse lifted.
\---
Last night thirty bolts of lighting struck the hill at the edge of town in rapid succession, leaving the following message burned into the earth:
*You will bleed for your sins.*
Read more at r/DailyHorrorStories | 2020-03-20T06:52:53 | 2020-03-20T06:49:33 | 68 | 20 |
[WP] You're walking to work, then suddenly a person in a white suit appears and says "Uh yeah I've accidentally permanently stopped time and it'll take me 2 months to fix it, but somehow you're not frozen in time. But hey, whatever object you touch should still work, so uh good luck and have fun." | What do you do when you find yourself stuck in a world where time has stopped but only for you?
This all began about a month ago when this guy dressed in white appeared out of nowhere.
He just stood there and suddenly I could hear a voice inside my head.
"There's been a mistake. Time's frozen and for some reason you aren't affected. I think I can get it fixed in a couple of months. In the mean time I'll grant you the ability to unfreeze objects that you touch."
It was a rainy day so it was pretty obvious this wasn't a joke.
At first I thought I was dreaming and so I decided to punch myself in the face. Boy did I feel stupid after doing that.
I tried touching other people but sure enough it only worked on inanimate objects like he said.
The first week I just focused on getting by and waited out for the time to pass, but being alone for so long is not something I think humans were made for.
I mean there wasn't much to entertain me either. My TV and laptop turned on when I touched them but without other people in the world so to say there was nothing to see on TV, the Internet did not work because there was no way for me to unfreeze the whole global network infrastructure.
Video games could've been a solution I guess but there were more pressing matters on my mind.
I tried going around in search of other people that might've been unfrozen as well.
Who knows? Maybe the guy in white had missed someone.
I roamed for days, searched every building, every house in the city. Nothing.
Nearby cities turned out to be a disappointment as well so, by week 3 I decided I would go abroad. Farther than the neighboring countries.
Who knows? Maybe this thing had a radius of sorts and somewhere far away maybe a city, or a whole country could be functioning. just isolated from the rest of the world.
I don't know how to ride an airplane but luckily this whole getting objects to work when I touch them came in handy.
Now here I am driving across the ocean on a Honda Civic.
Nobody would believe if I told them. If the situation wasn't fucked up I myself would probably laugh at how ridiculous this seems.
"FUCK!"
The car stopped mid drive as if it someone froze it in time again and I hit the front window.
I'm bleeding but it doesn't seem too bad. Just feeling a little dizzy...
Strange, the car is still turned on and pressing the gas pedal makes the tires move, only just in place.
Maybe I got stuck in something. I can't go outside though.
What if leaving the car makes it so I unfreeze the whole ocean? The car would sink I would be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe I can get out through the window and stand on top of the car to get a better view of the surroundings.
Huh... Must've hit my head harder than I thought. I'm starting to see things.
It seems like there's letters up above in the sky. Like if they are spelling something...
​
**Warning!**
**Out of bounds map area.**
**Access denied** | I come across a lot of crazy hobos on my commute but never one that well dressed.
"Okay, sure buddy whatever you say!" I shouted as I continued walking down the crack filled sidewalk. When I made it to the turnstile, the security guard wasn't at his post to buzz me in.
"Damn it," I sighed, "better call Dustin and tell him I'm going to be late... Again."
I pulled out my phone and selected my boss's contact.
No answer.
"What the hell man." I called again.
No answer. I left a message,
"Hey man, it's Sam. Security guard isn't here, going to be a few minutes late. Hit me back."
I turned around to see if that weirdo was still around. He wasn't, so I decided to head back to the main road to try to catch one of my crew mates on their way in.
That's when I realized he wasn't kidding.
Every. Single. Person.
Every. Single. Thing.
Frozen. Completely frozen. Not like cold frozen but just stiff. Cars sitting still, stoplights not changing. Nothing, utter lifelessness.
I walked up to the nearest vehicle to see if I could see anyone is inside. To my surprise, when I touched the window to look inside, the car roared to life and started barreling down the street. Without a conscious driver it veered to the right and smashed through the storefront of the 7-eleven on the corner.
"Holy shit!!" My heart was racing. What in the actual fuck was going on here?
2 months... pfft. It's been about 3 and a half years since that godforsaken day. And everyday I make my wife and kids breakfast in case today's the day they unfreeze.
Edit: I did edit the ending a bit to be more clear in it's meaning. | 2020-09-20T05:58:15 | 2020-09-20T05:22:10 | 750 | 293 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | "Too bad, Confoundus, looks like my will was again too strong for your feeble powers" said Artillerella with satisfaction, before making a gun gesture with her index finger and thumb and pretending to blow smoke off it.
It was her signature move, and Confoundus would happily let himself take a thousand of her easily avoidable inferno bombs to the face just to see it one more time.
As he was led away in handcuffs, Confoundus tried to appear defeated and angry, Artillerella loved a bit of anger. He couldn't let her see how happy he really was, it'd break her heart.
Artillerella had come around around at a hard time in Confoudus' life, a time when he found himself struggling for purpose, being a terrifying being that the entire world feared had really grown rather boring. He found himself watching "*A Hero Emerges, the Hero Academy Inside Story*" on TV more and more over the years, looking at the new blood, hoping against hope that finally there'd be someone to challenge him. But every time someone looked promising: Cyclonia, Septeroid, even that overhyped windbag Heatwave, they always ended up the same: cocky, drug-addled layabouts who just went for the easy, weak villains, posed for some newspaper photos and backed down the second any villain worth their salt made a challenge.
Then came Artillerella. She wasn't particularly strong, her only power other than the standard flight, enhanced reflexes etc. was her ability to create meteor-like orbs between her hands and hurl them at her opponents. They exploded with an impressive flash, and looked dazzling to watch, but unfortunately they took a long time to charge, were easy to dodge and really weren't all that useful in actual combat.
Nevertheless she'd captivated Confoundus, she was brave. While Heatwave and his gang of celebrity hangers on partied in a nightclub, she challenged Arachniarch, a villain at least five times her strength, as he threatened to unleash his horde of spiders on an orphanage.
Of course she lost the fight, but she'd fought valiantly, and Confoundus was disheartened to see Heatwave wipe the cocaine off his nose and fly in at the last moment to nab the glory, barely managing to defeat the significantly weakened Arachniarch. Artillerella wasn't even mentioned in the news article the next day.
He fell in love with her. Her coy smile, her little blowing-smoke-off-the-gun victory move, the way she fought with such passion in battle. She was everything he'd ever dreamed of. And so one day, the long-feared return of Confoundus came, it had been oh-so-satisfying to smack down the pompous upstarts that had risen to international fame as the so-called strongest heroes. He beat the best, then the second best, and before long all the remaining heroes cowered in fear.
All but one, Artillerella.
Of course Confoundus could have snapped her mind in two in an instant with his psychic powers, but when he looked at that determined grimace framed by that wavy red hair, he just... couldn't bring himself to do it.
"NO, how can this BE?" he'd said, theatrically.
"My powers" Confoundus had continued, waving his arms like a madman
"Your will, it's too strong, my powers can't touch you..."
And that was when the inferno bomb hit him. Such sweet pain, the burning fury of such a sweet honest soul coalesced into a scorching, searing agony that only he could love. He wanted it again and again.
And so he escaped from prison, and so she, again, "defeated" him. And again. And again and again and again.
This was capture number... nine? Confoundus was pretty sure.
"Best one yet" he thought to himself "she's honest to goodness putting up a fight now, might be one day I don't have to fake it anymore.
His daydream was shattered.
"Confoundus, you pathetic old shite" a self-superior sounding British voice yelled from above him.
"I've never liked you if I'm honest, but lucky for you we're on the same team, so I'll help you out of this one."
Shimmer. A pompous villain who carried two daggers and had the ability to move with astounding speed, even for someone with powers.
"Shimmer!" Artillerella's melodic yet firm voice called, as she flew over to protect the police officers escorting Confoundus away.
"Get out of here, or do you want a visit to the burn ward, too?"
Shimmer laughed.
"The burn ward? Oh come on. Maybe I'd have let it slide if I hadn't just heard that *exact* line from Pyrogladiator yesterday. Every fire hero's been using that one, for decades. Seriously, you're a rookie, let Confoundus go and maybe I won't slash you up too badly." Shimmer said threateningly, holding one of his daggers up to the light.
"Don't know if you've noticed" Artillerella said with a smile
"But my arrest profile doesn't exactly seem too 'rookie' to me. A few years ago even you would be running away from Confoundus, and now I've got him wrapped around my little finger." there was that coy smile Confoundus loved so much.
"Now do what you do best, Shimmer" Artillerella said confidently
"And run on home"
"OK that's it" Shimmer said, turning to Confoundus.
"Seriously? You let *her* take you down? Have you heard these lines? Is it possible to kill yourself with psychic powers? Because if I were you I would have tried by now."
"Enough!" Artillerella yelled, as a glowing sphere lit up between her hands.
Nobody even saw the next move, Shimmer flashed through the air around the orb and slashed at Artillerella with his dagger.
Artillerella was by no means a weak hero, but Shimmer was probably the third or fourth most powerful villain in the world, even Confoundus himself wouldn't have found him to be an easy win.
Blood spattered across the pavement and Artillerella fell from the sky. Confoundus felt tears form in his eyes as he heard her body thump against the ground, and half-heard some witty retort from Shimmer before he sped away.
"My love" Confoundus said, his voice cracking.
"My love why did he do this... why?"
The police had long since fled when Shimmer showed up, and so no-one was there to watch Confoundus weep as Artillerella's blood seeped out onto the pavement.
EDIT: I'm very glad people liked this so much, I'll begin writing the continuation immediately after I finish this edit. I'm so happy to have a post of mine get this much attention on this sub, I don't have a subreddit or anything but my comment history is a few more of my writing prompts (I made this account to post on this sub) if anyone feels like reading them.
EDIT 2: Part 2 is up, I replied to the original story with my continuation. Hope it lives up to expectations, I wrote as fast as I could while still trying to maintain quality. | *OP's aside:* Wellp, this exploded. Maybe I'll try Addi g my own reply to my own prompt. What's the worst that an happen?
Pan's heart jumped with joy as she watched Glory girl somersault out of the way of yet another attack. Pan admired everythibg about Glory girl. Her figure, her smile, how she fought, how she always fought with a smile, how kind she was, and her dedication to protecting the regular citizens.
"Come on Pantera, is that the best you got today? Did the big bad kitty get her claws clipped lately?" Glory girl shouted as she flew in with a punch that sent Pan into a nearby car.
Groaning, Pan peeled herself off the side of the destroyed Ferrari, and lashed out weakly with her ribbon. This was the primary power she used in her fights nowadays. The single black ribbon that emerged from the simple black lines tattooed on her right arm. It was not nearly as fast as Crackle's energy whip, but it did pack abit more punch if it hit you. Pam's other tricks included having speed, agility and durability slightly above leak human level, and the ability to elongate her nails into sharp claws. She was the definition of a strong B-lister.
On the other hand, Glory girl's flight, super strength, durability, and speed made her one of the A-Listers. In addition to those she also had her aura of glory which inspired her teammates and scared her allies, as well as an advanced intellect. She was one of the best.
"Why don't you just stay in lockup like the others?" yelled Glory girl as she grabbed Pan's ribbon and yanked Pan towards herself for a punch. "And why do you ALWAYS come out when I'm on duty?" she yells as she punches Pan against the nearby building.
Imbedded in yet another object for the 2nd time in a minute, Pan looks up at Glory girl who stands there with a big grin, happy she beat her most frequent villain yet again. "I guess I'm just a masochist..." mumbles Pan as she spits out some blood. Having been properly beaten yet again, she just lies there admiring Glory girl in her suit that does not leave too much to imagination, and her amazing smile.
"And this time stay in lockup would you? I don't want to keep hurting y..." Glory girl didn't finish as at the last second she looked up and prought her hands up to block the blast. The impact that hit Glory girl left her lying in the middle of a small crater. Several bones were definitely broken, her costume was torn and singed barely staying on, and she was bleeding heavily. Landing behind her were several figures, chief among them Svarog. A Russian villain who named himself after an old Slavic deity, due to his ability to channel that God's power. He lead what was perhaps the strongest band of villains in the world, with the World Justice Association having barely beaten the villains back the last two encounters they had.
A young woman in elaborate armor pushes past Svarog, and walks towards Glory girl, raising her spear above her head. Not one of the strongest villains in the world, Valkyrie's spear was still a weapon feared by many, as it excelled in bypassing various types of durability, and wounds caused by it were nearly impossible to heal. "Nothing personal Glory girl, but we can't have you there to inspire your team when we come to kill them next." said Svarog as Valkyrie raised her spear.
Watching the scene, Pan gritted her teeth as she realized that no hero would be making it there fast enough to save Glory girl, and that she was the only one with enough power to make any difference. All those cops on the sidelines would be completely useless against Svagor's A-listers, let alone the man himself. Pushing off the wall she was imbedded into, Pan landed nimble on her feet, no longer bothering to fake injury. As Valkyrie's spear was about to come down, Pan growled in frustration and extended her right hand towards the enemy.
Atleast a hundred of her black ribbons emerged from her hand. These were in a completely different league from her previous single weak ribbon. These ones moved so fast that only supers with enhanced perception could hope to follow their movement, and they were strong enough to easily give Valkyrie more holes than the best Swiss cheese in the world.
Tossing Valkyrie's corpse aside, Panera turned towards Svarog and the rest of his crew. Three of her ribbons have already retrieved Valkyrie's spear and were lazily twirling it around. In just a few seconds the tattoos on Pan's arm spread to the rest of her body. Tearing through her clothes, more ribbons appeared, coming out from all the new tattoos that have proliferated to cover every last inch of her. The ribbons now counted in the thousands, with the longest ones spanning several miles into the air, and the surrounding streets, as they grabbed civilians and dragged them to safety, while cutting off the area to ensure that no one could leave or enter unless the ribbons let them. Pam's claws doubled in size, and adopted some strange glow, while her pupils narrowed and changed color, turning from her regular brown eyes, to yellow cat ones.
While all of Pan's ribbons were pitch black in color, a few dozen of them have made their way over to Glory girl, wrapped her injuries and were turning a brilliant emerald. The few of Glory girl's injuries that were still visible started to close almost instantly. Her skin regained color, and as her punctured lung was healed her breath also returned to normal.
Looking away from Glory girl, Pan started walking towards Svarog and his team, her face in a vicious snarl.
Out of all present, only Svarog displayed no fear at Pantera's display. "Impressive, for a woman who pretended to be one of the weakling for years. But you forget, I have the power of a God. No matter how you try, you have no hope of killing me."
"We'll see about that!" growled Pantera, pouncing forward as hundreds of ribbons surrounding Svarog began their attack. | 2017-10-18T18:23:28 | 2017-09-17T05:37:21 | 5,127 | 16 |
[WP] The biggest warmongering race of Aliens declare war on the local Galaxy cluster. The opposing group of peace-loving Aliens, who had befriended most Alien races, are finally forced to reveal their secret weapon, a 'classified' species called Humans, and their tenacity as persistence predators. | CLASSIFIED
First Human-Devourer Conflict report
War. Weapons. Fighting. Entirely foreign concepts to us Plantanoids until we first encountered the Devourers, which were slowly annihilating any other life they came across.
We know they'd come for us eventually.
But we had a secret. A race we secretly observed for thousands of years. A race so warmongering they warmongered on their on kind. They call themselves Humans.
Their rate of technological advance was staggering, developments that took us millennia took them decades.
It was inevitable they developed the warp drive and breached the observation zone.
And when they came in contact with them we bluffed, convinced them they were far outnumbered and outgunned.
We "generously" carved them out an area of their galaxy, that no other race was close enough to have a legitimate claim on anyway.
Then the devourers approached our borders.
We had planned many ways to attract the devourers to the humans, but purely coincidently the humans managed to activate their closest Ancient Portal near this time, attracting the devourers to them.
We made the humans a simple offer, as "we didn't want to waste resources fighting the Devourers", the Humans could have the Devourer's territory if they defeated them.
I stop my spaceship far enough away from the predicted first encounter location to be safe, but close enough to watch as if it was next to me.
The Humans and Devourers both warped in as expected. The first ballistic and laser attacks on both sides are almost instantaneous.
Then the Human ships launch a missile barrage. Missiles were usually considered relatively ineffective in space warfare, as their explosions would not do much damage against thick metallic hulls.
That's what most races thought. That's what the Devourers thought.
To this moment, it is still completely unknown why Earth has an extremely unusually large amount of Uranium.
And the Humans discovered Uranium can be slammed together to create Nuclear Fission.
Then they discovered this Fission could be used to initiate Fusion.
The huge explosions completely vaporized the Devourer ships. This isn't even a war. It's annihilation. | 'It wasn't a time for taking the easy way. Even we saw that.
Now, there was nothing left to do but the worse. Pretty lucky too that they were actually prepared for something like that. '
All eyes remained fixed on the counselor.
'It make you wonder if prohibiting aggressiveness all those years ago was really necessary to the extend our forefathers decided to enforce.
As you can all understand, the reason why I invited all your representatives to appear in person here and video to be redirected here - for the next 4 minutes 45 seconds - is the release of the beast, so to say.
We are to touch ground in Beijing in about 25 seconds. Bear with me.
Some quick facts on 324#
- nuclear tech phase 4
- almost 10 billion incl some half billion minor species.
- good physical 90%
- no stimulants (exclus. Pre-phsych)
We are confident and hopeful to be able to reach their cooperation quickly, in the contrary case, measurements have been taken and we are positive to be able to intervene over 60% of pop. '
'"BRACE FOR IMPACT"
- | 2021-05-25T14:55:38 | 2021-05-25T10:05:45 | 171 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity quickly ascends to the top of galactic diplomacy for one simple reason: Aliens have never experienced simple compliments before until meeting us. | The Galactic Congress stared at us with anticipation. Many of them were awkwardly shuffling their papers and adjusting their pens, waiting for a word to come from our mouths.
I leaned into the microphone and licked my lips. The sound reverberated across the room. "It is nice to see you fine individuals again, for the 45th time this week."
Two of the aliens turned away and fanned their faces, casting sideways glances if they had eyes and blushing as I spoke. Another alien leaned forward and grinned, displaying serrated teeth and flaring its scales. Still others shifted in their seats and moved their papers nervously.
"You guys are my favorite congress, ever." The woman next to me leaned into the microphone in front of me. "Promise."
The aliens squirmed in their seats and chattered to themselves in their respective languages. There were a dozen of them, each with a pairing of the same species. The pale, diffuse light above them allowed us to see the aliens in crisp detail. Strange odors permeated the room -- some pleasant and some were simply earthy. The large, grinning fellow flexed an arm at me and raised the scales on its face. I tried not to react in any way that would suggest displeasure, so I smiled back. Its eyes widened and he started writing on his paper. He lifted it and there was a strange bulging structure. It pointed at its chest.
"Is that..." I squinted at the image. "Is that a heart?" The creature flushed and sheepishly smiled. "That is a very lovely drawing." I didn't understand why an alien race capable of reducing whole planets to dust at all cared about my evaluation of its drawing skills. "You know what that means, right?" The creature shook its head in confusion. I walked up to his desk and grabbed the sheet. "We're going to have to hang that on the *refrigerator* so the rest of us can appreciate what a good artist you are." I turned back to the group of fellow humans and towards the tiny fridge in the back. "I am so proud of you."
I attached it to the fridge. The magnet I used has some strange food on it and a phone number written in some other language. The alien grumbled to the alien on its left, excitedly pointed to the fridge and gesturing towards its pencil. The other alien rolled its eyes with envy and started to create its own drawing.
The woman that spoke before leaned back to the microphone. "You guys are so smart and capable." The aliens covered their faces and waved off the compliment. "Can we please have some of your beautiful weapons of mass destruction?" She pointed to the pile of missiles and laser guns in the center of the room. "I would really like it if we were given some weapons of mass destruction." She flashed them a huge grin. "You guys are so great." | Emperor Gjanthalthac descended with his fleet upon the unsuspecting world below. Little did he know, there were caribou, lumberjacks and makers of maple syrup in throw.
See, Gjanthalthac made the unfortunate mistake of landing in Canada, specifically Toronto.
The local citizens gathered up, watching the lead scout ship descend.
Gjanthalthac stepped out, flakes of snow descending upon his shoulders, Game of Thrones style, and exposed himself to potential forces that could end his galactic domain without a scent.
French Canadians sprang out from the bushes unexpectedly, brandishing large servings of poutine.
Gjanthalthac stepped forward and grabbed a fry, its scent emanating profusely; Gjanthalthac then dipped it into the decadent and thick gravy, it was quite a scene.
Pulling the fry out, completely encased in the fatty goodness, he took a bite.
"This is the greatest thing I have ever seen or tasted!" exclaimed Gjanthalthac before he was about to unleash a maelstrom of extreme death that night.
Gjanthalthac then proclaimed that poutine was the best compliment anyone could ever receive and encased Earth's solar system in a protective bubble that would forever ensure that poutine and its creators would survive throughout the ages.
Many throughout the galaxy had heard of poutine since and have thus met the end of their lines as the intergalactic web interwines, but the fact that poutine is good, that quickly became cosmically understood. | 2019-06-08T11:34:50 | 2019-06-08T07:37:40 | 63 | 29 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | You'd think this would throw me off. You'd think I'd be disoriented. But I've always been a fast learner and I've played *a lot* of D&D. Like *weeks*. I channeled my annoyance at being interrupted into the first thing that popped into my head.
"WHO SUMMONS THE ALL-PURPOSE NERD?" I boomed. I stand straight and tall and flex a little. Yeah.
"Oh great foul being of America, I implore your assistance!" Little bald dude with fancy purple robes and a black fu manchu 'stache. Is he a gnome? I can't place his accent at all, but it's clear English is not his first language.
"My patience is finite, sorcerer." I'm getting a better look at my surroundings, and it looks like my summoner reads Better Caves and Dungeons. It's like someone set up a Victorian-era office in a red-tinted Elizabethan castle. Books, papers, ink, quills, no messier than my room. Actually, probably less messy than my room, to be honest.
He starts into his spiel about a rival mage, something about intellectual dishonesty and birthright. His accent borders on indecipherable when he gets upset. The whole thing smacks of feuding academics. Basically, 'he stole my thesis, go beat him up.'
I stand with crossed arms trying to look badass and pensive. I wonder, if I'm killed here, do I just go back, or am I legit dead? Every feels pretty 'world of cardboard' here and I'm *pretty sure* the gravity is lighter.
This could be fun as Hell.
"Hmm. Very well. Bring me wine and a sword."
He hesitates. "Uh... Yes. At once!" And he rushes off. He leaves me alone long enough to start going through his books and stuff. Most of it's in... idunno, *gnomish* or whatever, big surprise. Indecipherable except for the diagrams (which look like the quantum mechanical equivalent of alchemy). But I do find a softcover 1988 Almanac, just like the ones Grandma used to throw at us.
He eventually returns with what looks like a hunting knife and a roughly eight-ounce bottle, only a little bigger than what you get on airplanes.
"...really?"
"My Lord, this is the best I have."
I snatch the bottle out of his hand and drain it. It's not the worst red wine I've ever had. Also, I don't really like red wine, like *at all*, but I figured "a can of strawberry seltzer, a can of Diet Coke, and a shot of Everclear" would be three or four alien concepts to this guy. I don't like asking people for stuff they can't deliver.
I examine his "sword." It's a *big knife,* but it's still just a knife to me. Like a cross between a bowie knife and a wakizashi. The handle's a little skinny, but I figure this dude's got small hands. It's actually pretty cool. I find the darkened blade to be weirdly flexible. "Is this *bronze*?"
"Yes, my Lord." His accent's thickening again. He must be afraid of me. That's awesome.
I tuck the bottle in my back pocket and check my phone. It claim's it's 5:23, but I unsurprisingly have no service. "Alright, let's go shed some blood." | "Save her!"
"Wha-?"
"I summoned you here to save her! Do it!"
On the table lay a woman with labored breath and covered in blood.
"I can't do it here. You'll have to send me back. I need an ER."
"I have an ear for you right here, demon!" The man jiggles his own bloody ear in his hand.
"No, I need an E... R... An emergency room you imbecile. Send us both back and she'll be healed."
"No. No I won't do it. I won't let you make her a demon like you. They never come back the same."
"Of course they don't. You can't take a bite of the apple of knowledge and stay ignorant."
"SAVE HER, DEMON!"
The man standing in an arcane circle wearing a long white robe and a strange creature about his neck sighs. "You are all fools. Damned fools." Then he clapped his hands and was gone. So was the woman.
For the next month, the young sorcerer wept. He had sold his love to a demon. Then, a loud clap and the sound of something solid bouncing on the floor pulled him out of his remorse. When he approached the strange object, he saw her smiling face. Then the object spoke...
"Hey Joe. Thanks for helping me. It's better here. People are happy. Their babies live past infancy, infections don't kill people, and there's much less war and violence. I've decided to stay with Dr. Hapburn. He's the man you summoned to save me. He's been kind to me and he is wealthier than our king! Good luck, Joe. I don't think I'll ever see you again."
Then the object went dark. Joe let out an anguished scream. "DAMN YOU DEMON!"
-------
"Welcome back, Dr. Hapburn!"
"Thanks Sally. We need to get this one to the ICU."
"We're on it doctor. Why doesn't Texas just join the Federation of Nations?"
"I don't know. King Norris won't let them. It's just good for us that the Global Processing Unit is available for teleportation requests."
"I hear the locals think people who talk to the GPU are sorcerers."
"Yes, that's true. Poor fools." | 2017-05-12T09:26:05 | 2017-05-12T09:10:43 | 68 | 43 |
[WP] All your life, you've had a small empty bar on your hand that reads "XP." Today you hit and killed a man with your car, and the bar began to fill. | I’ve always wondered what it meant.
XP? Like the video games? It just didn’t really make sense. I’d always thought that everyone had it, and I was just another face in the crowd.
Of course, I’d only thought that until I was thirteen, when social awareness hit my little undeveloped brain. No one else had it! I was ‘weird’, and had to hide it.
I began wearing those fingerless gloves. Y’know, the typical ‘cool kid’ cover-up hand accessory that was all the rage in middle school. They’ve become part of my life by now, and I’ve never taken them off.
Life goes on.
I finished high school, hopped along to college, and graduated with a degree in Liberal Arts. Not the best, but alas, one has to gain at least a basic education in order to survive. But I digress.
I was your typical citizen with a good track record. I began to forget about the bar, and why I even donned the gloves in the first place. I just kept them on... well, because they became a part of me, and for some reason I could never let go of them.
Call me conceited.
I’ve got a decent life, a beautiful girlfriend, and an average-sized home. Couldn’t ask for more, considering the fact that I basically scraped by for the last ten years. It seems sort of surreal that after all this time, it’s actually worked out.
Until today.
I’ve still been pondering what exactly happened. Yes, yes, you could say it’s shock. Yet, I beg to differ. I’m not affected by the crash. It... wasn’t my fault. I do feel sorry for the poor guy, but if I’m being honest, this one’s on him.
The young chap, about 18, was recklessly swerving around on his speed bike. He wasn’t watching the road. I took a left turn, and...
Well, it wasn’t the prettiest sight. Still, I sure as hell have seen worse. Somehow, murders happen around me. Not targeted at me, but always somewhere near me. Death. Terror.
I don’t understand it, but I don’t question. Life goes on.
After the accident, I watched the lad get carted away in the ambulance. The cops questioned me, asking me about what happened. In that moment, I felt a tingling sensation run down the length of my arm into the back of my hand.
As they drove me to the hospital, I unstrapped my gloves for the first time in twenty years.
Or at least, I would have, except the civil servants got shot in the head. One had his eye blown out, the other, brains splattered against the windscreen.
Ah, shoot.
They’re coming for me.
Screw me and my monologues.
*****
“Get out of the car!” The lady dressed in black yells into the vehicle.
I walk out, arms outstretched towards the heavens.
The woman pulls down her hood, staring. “I knew it. I knew you were... one of us.”
I look back, eyes questioning, as they always are. “‘Liz...? What the hell are you doing-“
She lunges forward, clasping one of her delicate hands over my mouth, hissing into my ear. “You are going to keep silent until we find a proper space to explain this. Understand?” She leaps off, whispering to her lackey.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
I shake my head. “Alright, what the hell is this? I’m not going anywhere until you explain what in the everloving gods is-“
Elizabeth whips her head back at me.
I stare back, and the words escape from her mouth.
“You’re one of us. A player character, not an NPC.”
*****
Thanks so much for reading! Any advice is nice! | I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry, and my ears were ringing. Beads of blood, sweat, and tears streamed down my face. I was unable to move, unable to climb out of my car, and unable to take my eyes off the gruesome scene before me. Pinned between the car, and a streetlight was a woman.
Through the cracked windshield, I could see that she too, was in a state of shock. What could be running through her mind? Fantasies of harming my family and me? Was she afraid? Or, maybe, there was nothing, perhaps she could accept that she was to bleed out, that she would not live to see her family or friends, that she would never again feel the sun's warm rays.
Beneath me, my legs felt as if they were going to crumble. Even still, I stumbled out of my car, slowly making my way towards the dying woman. Silently, she looked up at me through glossy eyes. Upon reaching her mangled body, I froze. The sight of her body made me want to vomit, but worse than that, was, I caused this. By some miracle, if she were to live, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life, and it would be my fault.
Her lips, stained crimson, open and close; her tongue moves up and down as if she was trying to string words together. But, I didn't bother listening, it's not that I didn't want to, rather, I couldn't focus on her voice. My ears were no longer ringing, but, I couldn't concentrate on anything other than a steady ticking that was raising in pitch. It wasn't necessarily an unpleasant sound, but, it seemed inappropriate for the situation.
I clenched my ears, hoping to tune out the sound. The ticking was consistent and made no indication of stopping anytime soon. In front of me, heavy tears rolled down the woman's cheeks; I stared into her eyes, searching them for the smallest indication of relief. But, there was none, and even in my fantasy world where dragons soar the skies, and the woman gets to live on, I don't deserve to have peace of mind. I know that It should've been me pinned between the vehicle and streetlight, that she didn't deserve this, but, killing her, albeit a terrible thing, feels good. I know that I should feel something other than strength, but I couldn't imagine not feeling powerful. The ticking slowly stops, I look down at my hand, it reads "Level up! Level 32"
Feedback is welcome; but, I'm going to bed. | 2018-07-02T04:29:22 | 2018-07-02T01:38:56 | 2,668 | 175 |
[WP] "You're the worst criminal in History, give me one reason not to kill you." "Okay. You probably won't believe me, but :..." | The detective had his knife pressed against my throat as his cold glare pierced through me. "You are the most despicable villain throughout this kingdom's history. Tell me, is there any reason I should spare you?"
This man, Julius, had been hunting me ever since I first came to this world. And yet despite my efforts in keeping myself safe, here I am captured for the final time. I don't think he'd believe anything I say due to how persistent he was in catching me but, this might be my final time breathing.
And so, "You won't probably believe me, but I didn't commit those murders. At least, the actual 'me' didn't."
Taken aback, Julius retracts the knife a few inches a way from me with a confused look on his face before setting it back more closer, eliciting a chuckle.
"I thought you would beg, scream or cry. This certainly isn't the response I expected. Tell me then, who did?"
I took a deep breath and replied, "Regulus Corsair did indeed commit those crimes-- yet that man isn't me, therefore I am innocent. I transmigrated into this body. That is the truth."
Julius bellowed a laugh this time. "Trans...mig..rated? I believe I don't understand."
"It's when your soul is transferred to somebody else's body. I'm just an innocent office worker from another world who just happens to occupy Regulus' body! In truth, this world is a novel and I'm just trying to prevent my death!," I recited, as perfectly as I could. In truth, I longed to tell someone else this truth for years. No one would believe a murderer. I've always hated being put in this kind of situation, but I've practiced this statement countless of times so I could be confident enough to tell someone if I ever found a person I could trust enough to.
Looking back at Julius, his brows had furrowed even further but he takes the knife away from my neck. "This world we live in has no speck of magic in it. How should I believe you are the person you claim to be? Not to mention, this world, a novel? You truly are a madman, aren't you?"
Of course, I had expected this as well. What would make this tenacious man believe me? Him sparing me to have my last words was already a miracle enough. I racked my brain trying to remember any detail I could reveal to him that might prove my innocence.
Ah. That's it.
"Mr. Julius, if I remember correctly, your late mother had a very special song only she sang to you as a child, didn't she?"
The raven haired man'd eyes widened. His hand gripping the weapon tightened, and raised once again in alert. I gulped, there's no way I can mess this up. Looking directly in his eyes, I opened my lips to sing that special song I had mentioned. It was a soft, enchanting melody that lulled the pure little Julius back in his childhood days. That song was very emotional, and had been popular in my world when the novel's TV show was produced. I thank the gods I decided to watch it instead of studying for my college exams at the time since I found out its tune. Who knew it would've saved my butt right now.
As my singing drew to a close, Julius' weapon had clattered right on the ground. Both of his hands immediately gripped hard onto my shoulders, and shook me. "You----! No one else has heard that before, not even my bastard of a father! And yet---!"
I could see him shaking a bit. "Is this enough of a proof, Detective? As you said, there isn't magic in this world. There isn't any way for me to find out and you yourself said there is no one who has heard it besides you and your mother."
He stayed quiet, obviously taken aback by my proof. I took this time to give him more evidence. I recited all the things the criminal Regulus couldn't have found out on his own-- past cases the detective has handled before we met, the truth about his father's affair and the most useful information he's needed from me, the locations of all the other criminals he has been pursuing. Julius took it all in, silent, his grip still tight on my shoulders.
"Look," I try to dig while the other man is still in his stunned state, "I am aware that the owner of this body has committed atrocities but I as the current owner am trying to make amends for that. I just want to escape my death flag and prevent the other deaths as well."
"You... Are you really willing to do that?" The detective finally lets out a word as his eyes meet mine.
"Of course. It's not like I've been living these past few months just escaping from you. Tell me, has The Phantom Killer and the Masked Man been making a move these days?"
"....Now that I think about it... I haven't heard of that."
"I got rid of them... Uh, well, I guess I killed them but they were criminals, so you're gonna let me off for that, right?"
Honestly, I just planned to tie them both up at the time and deliver them to Julius, but they did try to kill me too. They were one of the first people I've killed in this world, and it was terrifying. But at least it wasn't a fruitless endeavor.
Julius lets out a sigh. "Fine. You win. I'm sparing you but I have a condition."
A condition? "What is it? It's not like I can refuse in this situation."
"Work with me in capturing more criminals, and I can work a way for you to live normally again. Proven of course, that you aren't deceiving me."
My eyes widened. This was not the development I expected. Maybe I was just expecting to be let go and just live my life as a commoner someplace else and be banished from this country... But working together with him? As the most despicable criminal he'd ever met?
I couldn't help but laugh myself. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"
"Hey! As much as I want to kill you right now, you just made it impossible for me. Is that a deal then?"
His hand reached out.
This death flag of mine, there is no way I can avoid it if I will live in this dangerous world. However, if I team up with the protagonist... Maybe, just maybe--
I clasp his hand, shaking it in agreement.
"Of course. Be sure to keep your word." | "Okay, you probably won't believe me but... but I'm your wife."
Eloise looked at me in silence for a brief moment before training the shotgun back at my heart. "You're right, I don't believe you."
"I know it sounds crazy-"
"Crazy? Yukiko Thawne, the Apostasy's most wanted witch, breaks into my house, tries to claim we were in some heathen marriage, and you think crazy is a good enough term to describe it?" Damnit. I didn't think the Conversion Center would have gotten to her this fast. "Right now, I'd stop pushing your luck any further than the fact you broke in when I was home but my husband wasn't. He'd be a lot less forgiving than I am."
I stepped forward ever so slightly and replied, "El, listen to me, that man is *not* your husband, and other than the one you're carrying right now, those are *not* your children. What's it gonna take to convince you here?"
"Divine intervention. Anything less than that gets you a free buckshot injection."
I groaned in frustration. "You never believed in that shit, El! You always said you'd rather make your own miracles rather than wait for someone else's!"
An expression briefly washed over Eloise's face before she resumed holding me at gunpoint. "What was that face for?" I asked her.
"I don't know, disgust at the idea I'd ever say something so heretical?"
"No no, you looked like... like you recognized what I just said." An idea was forming in my mind in tandem with my rising spirits. "Eloise, I need you to look at me and listen to what I'm saying. Do you remember the day we met?"
"This-this *is* the day we met." El's tone was shaky, undermining the conviction of her statement.
"I'm talking about the actual day we met, hon. We were fifteen. You were truffle hunting with your dad and I was hanging out in a pine tree eating cherries. You looked up at me and asked if you could have some, and I said I'd give you the rest if you could catch all of the pits I had gone through already. I dropped them out of the tree, and you used a wind spell to deposit them all into your hands. I called you a cheater, but you-"
"SHUT UP!!!!" Eloise pumped the shotgun and prodded it against my chest. "First you expect me to believe you and I were married, and now you try to convince me I'm a witch?!?"
I was panicking, trying to grapple with the possibility my plan was having the opposite effect. But then I noticed something: El's finger wasn't on the trigger anymore. And on top of that, she hadn't fired the gun yet, meaning she wasted a shell when she pumped it earlier. Even if she didn't act like it, she couldn't bring herself to shoot me. I was getting through to her.
My panic subsided as I kept going. "Yeah I do, El, because that's who you are. Who you *really* are. You proposed to me at Diviner's Lake on the full moon, and we got married on the vernal equinox in dresses made out of wildflowers."
El's hands were shaking wildly, proof that the cracks in her falsified life were beginning to show. "Y-you're lying!"
"I spent a year working on a spell that would make a house out of a tree that could grow and branch out as needed. And when it was completed, we spent a whole week kissing and cuddling in our underwear instead of actually getting moved in." Eloise couldn't even speak anymore; she was reduced to heavy breathing and frustrated grunts.
"We have a pitbull named Hugo, and he is the sweetest and cuddliest pup in the world, especially to our kittens Cookies and Cream, who treat him as their big brother. All three of them love going out for walks and will lie next to you or with you when you're sick. Don't you look at me and tell me you've forgotten about them, because I doubt they could handle that any more than you could!"
Eloise had set the shotgun down completely by this point, gripping her head as she screamed bloody murder. It hurt to see her this way, but I wasn't done yet. There was still one more memory I had to bring to the surface.
"We have a son, El! His name is Gregory, he likes wearing dresses and mini golf and hot chocolate, he can't sleep without his stuffed dragon, his birthday is next week, and he wants to know. Where. His. Mother. Is!"
Eloise screamed one last time before collapsing to her knees. I kneeled down with her and rested my hand on her shoulder as gently as possible. "El? Honey?"
Eloise looked up at me, tears streaming down her face, and quietly said, "Sunflower?"
The sound of hearing my pet name come out of her mouth for the first time in ages made me tear up too. "Yeah, baby. It's me." Eloise threw herself into my arms, sobbing her heart out. As I stroked her head to comfort her, Eloise whispered, "I want to go home."
As I lifted her off the ground to carry her as a princess deserves, I kissed her on the cheek and said, "That's exactly where we're headed, rainbow." | 2022-08-26T14:39:21 | 2022-08-26T13:37:47 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | "I remember a time when paintball was reserved for drunken stag parties and corporate bonding days, before the great recession of 2022."
"Yeah Grandad, you've told me before" - with a roll of the eyes... Good thing he'll be on my team I think to myself.
"Well, now it's the national game! Even became an Olympic event in the 2030's! Everyone had to work harder to get us back on our feet. Video games were disbanded... Everyone ploughed themselves into growing their own veg to keep the family fed or for trade. Working hard to build up the economy. Physical activities became the norm so everyone could blow off steam. No time to waste on frivulous computers."
"Look Grandad, it's starting, better pay attention" - That's me told, little shit. Too much like his damn father but I bite my lip and keep quiet. He'll appreciate me one day, probably when I'm gone.
The attendant is running through the rules, but we all know them. I played twice times a week until I was in my 40's. Though something catches my eye, one guy in the opposite team is wearing his own fatigues (not entirely uncommon, I have my own somewhere though theyre a bit tight fitting now) and on his chest is a name I recognise. A name that's haunted me for years...
It's him... I can't quite believe it. What are the chances?! And he's still using the same moniker, what a colossal asshole. I can hear him talking to the other players, that nasal voice. It's HIM!!!!
After all these years I'll have my chance for revenge. I still remember how he escaped, ran off when he knew he was beaten. Utter Coward... but this time I'M going to have the last word!
The teams seperate off into the battleground, and with the great roar of the klaxon we're off! My grandson runs straight off, abondoning the old "dead weight" that I clearly am... Good, I'll be better off without him to give me away. My enemy is a good 10 years younger than me, I'll need to be quiet to get the upper hand.
I prowl round the outside of the battleground, slowly moving deeper into enemy territory. I remember his style... He'll be camped up at the back with a good view of the middle ground. I've played here before and know the perfect spot, the bushes on the hilltop to the south.
It takes me a while but I loop round, right enough I can see his legs sticking out of the bush. He's set up in the snipers nest. Slowly now I inch forward until I'm about 10 feet from him.
***SNAP***
I look down at my foot and there's a branch under my boot. "SHIT!" - I hear him cry, the bushes rustling as he tries to prise the paintball gun from under him.
**PHUT PHUT PHUT**
I fire the three shots off, each one hitting its target, torso and arms.
"What the *FUCK* dude?!" he cries. Inside I'm screaming with joy!!!! Now's my chance!
"Fucked my mother did you xX360noscopegangstaXx?! Well, now I've fucked you! HAHAHAHA"
God I miss my PS4. | "Alphanumeric!" exclaimed the old man. Tomby was his name, or at least that's what they called him in the 2124 Euro-African Union succession wars. He recognized the other man instantly, he was the one that got away. Tomby sat down to try take in what was happening. He blacked out for what seemed like a few seconds but turned out to be about four minutes. He rentered consciousness to the sound of of his grandchildren rhythmicly chanting "grannn... grannn... grannn..." like they did when he would nap on the shitter.
The paintball fight was bout to begin and he found that in his blacked out state he had been outfitted with a tippmann 2098, painted to look like an Indonesian rebel's rifle(which he considered disrespectful due to the ongoing conflict.)
As he walked into the field with his dependents. He then remember that he had seen Galden Hinefar before blacking out. This was the man who he had been assigned to kill, but had managed to escape through careful use of a small broom. Tomby new that he needed to "finish the fight" (he chucked to himself at the halo 2 reference, a game which was now about 120 years old but still fun).
immediately Tomby walked towards Galden, being pelted by by paintball until people started to get confused abut his seemingly lack of fucks given. Once he reached Galden he pushed the confused old man down and shoved his Tippmann down his throat and started shooting. about 8 small children watched in horror as an old man was murdered in cold blood before them. Once Galden's body was filled with paint and mostly motionless, Tomby turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger; forgetting it was a paintball gun.
Failing to kill himself, he sat down in the sand and though about his time as a death squad leader in the euro-African union succession wars, and how much fun he and the boys had. | 2016-09-07T01:53:29 | 2016-09-06T18:24:12 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a village in the dessert. One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed, except for you. You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert, thinking you are the last of your species.
Second time posting this, yay... fucking tags mate *cough* Well anyways, i didnt go into a lot of detail in the title, because i wanted to keep it as short as possible. So, a lot is kept to your imagination. How much and what do you remember ? Will you die in the dessert ? Why do you think you are the last of your species ? Will you find other of your species ? etc,etc... Really, so much to write.
So i come back and i see this...1063 likes WTF! This was my first prompt ever, im still amazed. I want to thank everyone that submitted a story and all the people that still will :D | I remember the soldiers.
I struggle to recall much else, but I remember the soldiers. I remember the way they clicked their tongues in some insidious, yet deafening language. I remember the way the sun glinted off their armour, black and shiny and impenetrable. I remember the stomping of far, far too many feet, and I remember the terrified yells of my friends and family as they were swiftly murdered and carried away. One by one, on and on, to and fro the soldiers marched and... and...
I hold onto this memory. It hurts, but it is important. If I forget, then who will tell our tale? If I ever find somebody to tell it to, that is. I've been moving for days, over the endless white sugary dunes. I haven't met a single soul who speaks my language this whole time. I'm reciting my own story just to keep it alive. Just in case. I must. I must.
"Soldiers. I remember the soldiers. I struggle to recall much else, but I remember the soldiers. Soldiers." Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. The word ticks with the beat of the clock. Soldiers. Soldiers. Soldiers. "Clicks. Black. Feet. Soldiers." The heat of the sun threatens to flatten me as I despair at the feebleness of my own words.
Soldiers. Soldiers. They did this, the soldiers. Name. They need a shorter name. Need to remember my story, but also need my breath.
Ants. Ants will do. | After the towers fell, everything was covered in Ovaltine powder. All the dead bodies looked the same. I went down to the Mountain Dew river and saw my own reflection. I looked like everyone else, like all the dead, except for the white of my eyes flicking back and forth as I stared into the frothy neon ebbing. | 2014-12-16T23:16:10 | 2014-12-16T17:02:43 | 119 | 66 |
[WP] You joined a mob. The boss asks you to prove your loyalty by killing your girlfriend. Failure to prove your loyalty will result in your loved ones dying. You look around the room at all the pictures and notice, you're dating daughter of the mafia boss. | I hadn’t been working for the boss long- well, by normal standards that is. It was a family business, you see, some of these goons had been preparing for this since they found out what dear ol’ daddy did for a living.
As an outsider, it was an honor to get the chance to join, and even rarer to get as far as I had. So it wasn’t hard to figure what my decision would be when the gun was placed on the table.
“You made sure I can’t be traced with this, right? You know I’ll be the first person brought in for questioning when she disappears.”
“Whaddya take us for? Amateurs?” The goon to the left of the boss snorted, but Mr. High-and-Mighty maintained his usual silence. His quiet demeanor had a certain weight to it. It was palpable, the fear in the room emanating from even his most trusted “employees”, and I respected him like hell. There was a reason I joined in the first place, after all. I too, want that reverence to follow me. The gal I had been seeing was nothing next to the chance to seize that kind of power.
And what a gal. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark lips, sweet face, the face I had noticed in the family photos every time I had paid a visit to dear ol’ daddy. It wasn’t planned, to court the oldest daughter of the most intimidating crime boss in the city, but boy did it work out in my favor. He didn’t know yet, but he would soon.
The plan had been to continue to woo her and then take over the family business. He had no sons to speak of. But no... this could work out in my favor. He loved his daughter. He would do anything to protect her. So it was with a friendly smile I took the gun from the table and stood, tucking it into my suit jacket.
I only spoke as I turned to leave, I didn’t have to look to know how he would respond. “Mr. DiGirolamo?”
“Mm?”
“Make sure you kiss Angela goodnight before you send her over.”
EDIT: minor grammatical and auto-correct fixes | The boss says "I am well aware that I am asking you to kill my daughter."
"You see, she went against the family. Now, you are the one who needs to right that wrong while proving yourself at the same time. She is over in the other room," he tells you as he hands you the gun.
They watch you walk into the room and close the door behind you. The boss and his goons wait in silence as they hear a little bit of pleading, and then all 6 shots go off at once. They hear a short, silent pause, and the a crash, and then a thud, and then another crash, and thud after thud after thud. The door opens and you walk out.
The boss looks at you with a perplexed scowl and says "What the hell happened in there?!" Confused, you explain to the boss "Some idiot loaded the gun with blanks so I had to beat her to death with the god damn chair!" | 2017-12-02T17:18:15 | 2017-12-02T16:31:25 | 1,080 | 611 |
[WP] Since FTL was invented, people like you were tasked with intercepting previously departed slower than light ships to upgrade their systems and redirect their course. You were often met with some grumbling and frustration, but you never met people who refuse the upgrade like this latest ship. | "Hello, yes, I hear you, please settle down. Look, will you - yes, I hear you, please settle down so I can speak!
Thank you.
Now, you know why my crew is here. Your old nuclear-fusion drive is an antique, it's worn-out, and it's going to fail in a few decades. We're here to install the brand-new, top-of-the-line Habercorn FTL drive, to get you to your destination- yes? Is there a question?
No, I don't know what your destination is. That's not on my manifest. My crew is here to install the drive, your destination doesn't matter to-
Really? That far out? On a fusion-drive? You guys must be, what seventh or eighth generation?
Twelfth generation? Vaccio, when did you leave Dirt? Well, I don't have your launch-date here, it's probably on your journey-plaques. What do you mean, you don't have journey-plaques? Look... yes, I hear you, but... look! None of this is really pertinent! We're just going to install the drive and be on our way, you guys can get to your destination planet, we can move on to the next colony ship, everybody's happy. Yes? Question?
No. I have no idea. Like I said, I don't know much about the passenger manifest or anything-
Sir. Sir! If you can stop shouting, we can all- look, I'm just trying to- OKAY! ENOUGH!
Where is your captain?
What do you mean you don't have a captain? Who's directing the ship?
Well, who's in charge, then?
...okay, I really don't understand. You're all... do you get that you're on a spaceship? Flying through space? On your way to a planet?
Vaccio. Okay, let's start at the beginning. You are on a colony ship, launched from Dirt sometime before the year 332. Your ship is one of thousands, called Generation ships, carrying a wide variety of people from Dirt to go settle a far-off planet. Your great-great-great ancestors were going to be settlers, pioneers on a new world - your navigation system's been jostled a little off-course, and in the last few decades the Habercorn family's come up with a new FTL drive- FTL? Uh, it stands for Faster-Than-Light, letting you move much, much faster toward your destination- Well, it works by- no, you don't 'fold space' you- look, it just works, okay? We install it, boom, you're there in a year or two, tops. At your current rate of travel, your great grandkids might live long enough to see it, but I wouldn't take bets on it.
So. There it is. Can somebody direct me to the drive-chamber so we can get this baby installed and shoot over to the next colony ship on my list? My team's got five more to do today, so the faster we...
What do you mean, 'No'?
Look, I understand that, but... no, no, no, I'm not trying to... look, if you'd just let me- okay, okay.
I get it, I really do. I grew up on a colony ship. It's your own little world, floating through space. But trust me, planets? Planets are amazing. You've got actual gravity. You can grow food, you can look up at the stars at night... you can breathe air that isn't recycled, just... free. You can have houses, you can have a little privacy, you can...
No, I get that. This is all you've known for twelve generations. There's nobody on the ship who can remember anybody who can remember what living planetside was like. But that's no reason to just... give up. To just stay up here because you- okay, 'give up' was a bad choice of words, but- no, I'm not judging you for wanting to live your lives, I'm just-
Look... hey. Hey! I have never... my crew and I have done this job on almost a thousand ships now, catching up to the old cold-drive ships, putting a new FTL in 'em, and sending them on their way. We have never - never! - had a ship outright refuse it. I get that it's a big change in your culture, but it's not like we're taking away anything from you - we're giving you a new opportunity, something you will never get on this ship. You will never- yes, and that's a good point, this ship's ancient! It's not going to last forever! What good is all of this 'society' of yours if the gravity drive dies tomorrow? Or the air recycler breaks down? You should have been planetside almost four hundred years ago. Four hundred years! Think of what you could have accomplished in four hundred... no, look, I didn't mean it like that. Of course, you've accomplished-
Yes. Yes, I understand. All right. No, that's... that's fine.
I wish you the best of luck, I really do. And I'm going to leave you a communicator in case you change your minds, okay?
Okay guys, pack it up. Back to the *Nevarra*, we've got four more ships to cross off today. | **Unknown ship,** I am Egox-I-Etherable, of the noble standing Laureate, and I am the maintainer of this section of the FTL network. You have fallen into this sector’s Central Gravitational Junction, and if we do not remedy this error, you will be crushed to death in around 39 years.
**This** is April, your Jumpstander. April retrofits STL ships for a living. You might know her as a “privateer”, but that is an... ungenerous term.
It is a … simple job. She pops up next to a ship (like yours), that may as well be from the middle ages. I lock and disable their systems (like yours are now), and she straps an FTL node onto their hull (as she will with you).
There is ... one problem: FTL nodes are costly. Under contract from the Egox Confederacy, April has the legal right to take compensation for her work. Any STL ship clogging the jump lanes is breaking the law.
And that, dear child, is where we come to *you*. Your ship is breaking the law, as are all of its passengers.
More pressing, however, is that others cannot use the lane as long as you block it. According to our records, your ship left at a time before the corruption. No ship as old as yours can overpower the pull of the Central Junction. We must either equip you with a node, or hasten your path towards crushination.
April’s question, which I deliver, on her behalf, is:
“What can you offer in return for something so valuable as an FTL node?”
Now, you’re lucky you have me to moderate- otherwise April would be stripping your ship right now, as is common in the outer systems, to which you crawl. You don’t have conception of how expensive an FTL node is, or what it is for that matter. I will tell you what you have that is of value to the Egox:
Your personnel computer has divulged a list of human cargo in your holds. I see that you have pre-corruption genetic material aboard. Specifically, 8 children, located in berths: A2, C18, Q99, B23, D18, L12, R67, and… D22, almost missed little Elizabeth. Eject these berths now, and our business here will be done.
I see that you’re activating maneuvering thrusters to stabilize the ejection. You do not need to trifle with this, April has your ship firmly secured.
April has informed me that you’ve launched… torpedoes? Tsk, tsk, child. Torpedoes are not berths A2, C18, Q99, B23, D18, L12, R67, and D22.
Your action is futile. See how they lack the thrust to even approach April's ship?
One moment…
I’ve been authorized by Egox-I-Elk, of the noble standing Poet, to allow you a second chance. Be warned, This is a rare opportunity, do not squander it.
I see you have ejected berths A2, C18, Q99, B23, D18, L12, and R67. Will Elizabeth not be joining us? Where is D22?
**Unknown ship**, please respond.
…
**Unknown ship**, please cease maneuvering.
…
**Unknown ship**, this is your final warning. Cease maneuvering and eject the remaining genetic material.
…
I see that my instructions to your life support to vent your internal atmosphere has not dissuaded you from resistance. I, Egox-I-Etherable, of the noble standing Laureate, Hereby authorize the use of lethal force to obtain your remaining contraband genetics.
…
**Unknown ship**, your reactor shielding has been pierced. If you do not eject D22, Elizabeth will die with you. If you eject D22, she will live a full life, you have my word as a Laureate.
…
April has confirmed receipt, Thank you.
And goodbye. | 2022-06-02T16:38:22 | 2022-06-02T14:35:25 | 224 | 89 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | Little Bethany Mariah Smith clung on to Father's legs. She hated going to meeting -- all the big scary grownups with their blanket clothes seemed to be just waiting for her to mess up, and Mother always spent ages talking to Sister Ruthie and Sister Tamar.
She was pretty sure -- really sure, actually -- that they had been having meeting more and more. Didn't they come yesterday? Today was not a Sunday or a Wednesday, either -- something weird was definitely going on.
Father Obadiah greeted her father. "Come, Brother Elisha, right this way."
"When will we be taking our...refreshments?"
"In just a minute. Sister Hannah will bring some over for you and your family."
They sat down, Mother, Father, Jebediah and Bethany, all in a row on the folding chairs. Sister Hannah came over holding a tray.
"Here, Brother Elisha -- Sister Sarai -- and of course, you, Jebediah and Bethany."
"What is it?" asked Bethany.
"It's a special treat for today. But don't drink it yet -- we're all going to drink together. It's a special soda."
Bethany held the cup in her little hands. It smelled funny, but Sister Hannah said it was soda, so it probably tasted really good. She looked up again.
"Why are we drinking it now?"
Sister Hannah paused. "Because... Because God is going to send his divine justice today, and if we want to get into heaven, we have to meet Him before then."
"What's divy jussis?"
"Umm... It's when God gives naughty people a spanking."
Bethany took this in. Before she could ask any more questions, however, Father Obadiah stood up at the big table. The humongous crowd of people at the meeting -- Bethany had never seen so many -- all went quiet.
"Brothers, Sisters. Today is the Last Day, the day of Divine Judgement. Behold, he sends his messenger from the sky, and the unrighteous shall be cleansed from the earth. Let us therefore drink this cup that we have been given and be thankful -- for indeed we are called to be His children. Amen."
All at once around her, people were drinking the special soda. Father, Mother... Even Jebediah, who usually hated doing things like this.
She looked at hers again. It still smelled funny. She didn't like drinking things that smelled funny. She swilled it around in the cup, spilling a little.
Suddenly, Jebediah fell off his chair and started making funny little movements. Bethany laughed, thinking he was playing a joke, but then he stopped moving. That wasn't right was it? Then Mother fell down too -- then Father. All around her, people were falling over. She felt scared.
On the wall behind the big table was a screen, flashing numbers. She was learning numbers with Mother. Four, three, two, one. Then nothing.
She looked around. Everyone was lying on the floor, even Father Obadiah. She saw Sister Hannah lying on top of three or four other people.
For a long time, she sat quietly on her chair with her drink, waiting for someone to get up again and tell her what a good girl she was for waiting, but at last she could stand it no longer. She was getting bored of this -- it was probably some really bad joke they were playing. So, leaving her special drink on her chair, she went to go play outside. | The, to be fair rather recently elected President of the 6 Continents (may the people of Europe rest in peace) has spoken in public today:
"Things have changed, for the better and for the worse. We are one free people, unbound by the shackles of what cruel fate had struck us before, yet bound by the need for choice. A world without repercussions gave us an out of a guaranteed demise, gave us a truly trusting society. However, I will neither be the first person that you have heard this from, neither will I be the first person to tell you that we have done despicable things as well.
"Unlike my fellow men, I will not lie, I will not beat around the bush: No repercussions meant I did everything I never dared to, like uniting everyone I could, helping all I wanted to, and to punish those that declined. I did things not because they were the safest, the easiest. I did things because I wanted to do them!
"And I am certain that you all, each and every one of you, has done much and the same. Each and every one of us has done things in knowledge that they'd be erased by the future. But now that we are in the future, as one people, as one world, having averted crisis due to our resilience, due to our ingenuity, due to our heart, we need to ask ourselves:
"What now?
What do we do now with the knowledge of what we did?
Do we expect justice for every thing we did, do we turn ourselves in as a species after breaking free from the imprisonment of certain demise?
Do we only choose to enforce justice and law after the end, spitting those in the face that were harmed, that were pained, that still are pained?
Or, do we, as a species, give a pass on restrictions and lawmaking itself, seeing as it didn't help us when we needed it, freeing us from the shackles that brought us to the brink of annihilation?
"I have revised the rules of Humanity. Gone are the days of forbidden fruit, of consequences as issued by few people to masses, no more is the need for bribery, for self-control. From now on, there shall only be one law: The law to completely forbid any and all lawmaking, agreements or bound contracts!"
| 2017-11-29T09:55:43 | 2017-11-29T04:06:09 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] Your task from the client was simple; Kill the target and take care of the kid too. It's been 10 years since then, and you've just realised you may have misunderstood "take care of kid too." | “Louie?”
“Yeah, Tony?”
“What the heck is this?” Tony asked, pointing an accusing finger at the child sitting on the beaten-up couch.
The kid waved.
“Oh! That’s just Davie,” Louie explained, taking a beer out of the mini-fridge, “Had to bring him today. School’s out and the babysitter canceled.”
“…You have a kid!?”
“Louis. We’re a gang,” Sam pointed out, “We do not have ‘Bring Your Kid to Work’ days! What would Boss think?”
“About what?” A new voice inquired, waltzing in.
“Ayyy, Marco! Bossman!” Louie greeted.
“…Who’s the ankle-biter?”
“Aw, you remember! It’s Lattimore’s little one!”
“Lattimore.”
“Yep!”
“As in; James Lattimore.”
“That’s the guy!”
“From four years ago?”
“You got it!”
“Louie…” Marco growled, his annoyance clear, “I told you to take care of the kid.”
“I have been!” Louie exclaimed, “I’ve been making sure he’s well-fed, taken to doctor appointments, in school… Heck, I’ve even been reading him a bedtime story every night! I’m pretty fond of the little guy.”
The rest of the gangsters in the room mentally facepalmed as Louie ruffled David’s hair fondly.
“No, you stupid—“ Marco hissed before letting out a frustrated sigh.
Louie frowned, “What?”
“You were supposed to take care of him,” Sam explained.
Louie looked confused until Tony dragged a finger across his throat.
“…Oh,” Louie realized after a moment, paling, “Whoops.”
“Doofus,” Tony scoffed, “Boss, what now?”
The boss seemed deep in thought, pacing back and forth. He was stopped by a small tug on his shirt.
“What?” He snapped, glaring down at the boy.
“Do you wanna come to my soccer game on Saturday?”
The boss stared down at him.
“Keep him?” Sam finally suggested.
“Keep him,” Marco agreed, picking up the eight year old.
Tony looked around the room incredulously, “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me—!”
“yOU WANNA GO TO THE SOCCER GAME OR NOT, ANTHONY!?”
“FINE! Keep him!” | You turn to face the live audience, breaking the fourth wall. You give an exaggerated, almost cartoonist shrug as the camera zooms in and a trumpet accentuates your mistake.
*Wah Wah Wah, Waaaaah*
The crowd roars with laughter.
"I'm such a dope" you exclaim, as you cock your pistol.
"This is turning out to be ***quite*** the day" you say to yourself. "At least my mother-in-law had to cancel her visit." A smirk appears on your face.
The audience applauds.
You slowly pan to the them once more.
"Something about......stomach issues" you boast as your smirk transitions into a wide grin.
The audience bellows with laughter, followed by applause and cheers. Only they know what you did.
You hear the kid unlocking the door. Fumbling for your gun, you knock over and break your wife's favorite vase.
"Oooooooohhhhh" goes the crowd. They know you're in for it now. The Missus is still mad about the dirty garage.
"Quite the day indeed" you mutter as you line up your shot. | 2022-05-23T09:00:07 | 2022-05-22T14:13:50 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | I was in the midst of cleaning, scrubbing at an extra tough stain on the floor, when I was distracted by some noise at the door. Not swearing - a lady should never take foul words into her mouth - I rose from the floor and the bucket of cold soap water whilst using the back of my hand to push some loose strands of hair away from my face.
A short few minutes later I was heading towards the hallway, or what I liked to think of as such: a long, narrow passageway lit by blazing torches - one must pay heed to traditions - causing shadows to dance on the rough walls and lending its dark corners an eerie touch. *Just perfect*, I mused, as always when passing though. *Just perfect.* There were few things as important as keeping up with appearance, people did expect one to live in a certain way and thus one must live up to those expectations. How else would the world look?
A loud banging on the iron-framed wooden door brought my attention back. *Oh. Right. A visitor.* A quick look down asserted that my dress was indeed free from stains and wrinkles and quite presentable, and my left hand quickly adjusted the tiara slightly.
“I have come to rescue thee, fair maiden!” the mustache adorned knight at the door cried as I opened it. “I have come to rescue thee and slay the dragon!” I sighed inwardly to the styling of his facial hair. Really, why did they *always* have to go for quantity over quality?
Taking care not to let any of those thoughts show of my face I let my lower lip tremble slightly as my eyes widened.
“Hush, please, or you’ll waken him from his slumber. Be quiet, and I will take you to him.” I motioned for him to follow me inwards along the tunnel with its flickering lights - *really, just perfect* \- slowly quickening the pace to give an air of necessary haste. Finally pausing outside the door at the end of the corridor I shot him a quick glance and pointedly nodded to his still sheathed sword. As he quietly drew it I let the door swing open and stepped aside.
“I have come to challenge thee, abominal beast!” boomed the knight as he entered the quiet room. I winced inwardly at his voice; why did they always feel the need to proclaim their objectives? What was wrong with a bit of serene calmness and quiet? A quite sigh escaped me as I put my left hand on his shoulder and the sharpened dagger in my right hand silently glided along his throat.
“I did tell you not to awaken Herbert”, I told him - quite sullenly - “he’s had a terrible night’s sleep and has been cranky all morning. I just finally managed to put him to sleep. But did you listen? No you did not.” I do not know whether he heard me, his body slumping forward before hitting the floor with a thud, but neither did I care as just then Herbert came strutting along the floor, his little wings flapping to help him maintain balance as he skillfully navigated around the sparse furniture in the room. I knelt and lifted him in my arms, letting his little split tounge playfully lick my cheek as I petted his scaled little head and his tail wiggled excitedly.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!”
*Oh dearie me*, I thought to myself as I suddenly noticed the now slow trickle of blood onto the floor where it had already spread in a large pool. *And just as I was just about to get rid of the old stains in the library.*
​
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*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\**
*And here I thought myself to pretty decent in writing in English, guess this challenge set me right about that. Please bear with my typos, grammatical errors and overuse of commas (I do love a good comma!). First submission here, but hopefully not the last because omg how I have missed writing!* | He opened the wooden door with a long drawn out squeak. In his hand a touch rose up illuminating the room and stretching his shadow behind him like taffy. He gazed at the silhouette laying in a bed decorated in fine silks, the moon outlining the perfect beauty of Princess Marianna.
"Alas my Lady! I have" *Clonk!* he stopped abruptly to a thick whack on his head, his helmet rang in his ears. He turned around to find a girl, dressed in a light gown, holding a chair.
"Princess wait" *Clonk* "I am your prin..." *Bang* "I'm trying to slay the..." *Clang* "Will you just sto.." *Bonk*
As the princess berated the knight with her chair a tail slithered into the room, a long scaly tail, a very very long and large scaly tail. the princess dropped the chair as the knight held his hands to his helmed dazed. She leaned back jumped into the air and at the same time the tail and her feat lashed out at the prince, pushing him over the bed and out the window. *clonk clang bonk bing* the knight tumbled down the side of the castle, *SPLOOSH!* and into the water. The princess walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets, revealing a couple of pillows and two watermelons stuffed at the top. "Knights are so stupid huh Ms. V" she turned around and the tail and her hand met in the hair with a quick *THWAK!*
The princess ran down the stairs following the dragons tail and into a large room that was once used as a dinner hall when the castle was new. now it set abandoned for years, covered in dust and in the center of it lay a large red scaly dragon.
"I'm just so sick of it Ms. V" Marianna said to the dragon. "It's like all anyone ever sees in me is, the princess, helpless little Marianna, maybe she will grow up and make a great casserole some day for a Handsom prince" she mocked as she did her best impression of a Nobel man. "Do you have any idea what it is like for people to judge you on your outside and never want to get to know the real you?" she questioned the dragon. The dragon raised her head to agree with a nod but The princess cut her off. "Off course not Ms. V, you're beautiful and caring." She hugged the dragon wrapping her arms around one of her giant scaly legs. "Now let's get to work."
The Princess and the dragon stayed up all night, in fact, most nights, building a stage, writing scripts. She was not destined to be a princess, and Ms. V. Was not destined to be slain in search of a princess. No. They were going to be the best play writers in the world. | 2019-01-09T10:18:32 | 2019-01-09T08:21:48 | 80 | 28 |
[WP] Random people around the world are being granted powers based on whatever video game they choose. Some people summon pokemon, turn into mechs, or gain God-like abilities. A grandmother is asked to choose; however, she is only familiar with mobile games. How did she become so OP? | Let me condense it down for you, capiche?
You see, my grandma- she loves mobile games. When she’s not with her girls playing mahjong, or out gardening, she’s probably on her phone, like me, playing games, like me. In other words, she’s maintained one aspect of my current life in her late years.
Now, recently, games have been a bit more…fantastical. Fate/Grand Order has mythical forms of historical figures who can wipe the world out with ease. Genshin Impact has a beautiful, stunning world that fits in the palm of your hand. Clash Royale lets you declare wars between anyone and everyone- albeit with a more comical and medieval tone. These, and many other games, have some sort of high fantasy element to them.
My grandma likes to collect things, too, which is why she likes playing gacha games like Puzzle & Dragons and collectible card games like Shadowverse. She is a gardener, and is therefore simply attracted by games like Gardenscapes. Her mind is always hard at work trying to beat her peers in mahjong, so developing strategies and game-winning mindsets in games like Legends of Runeterra.
So when people began randomly gaining superpowers, the combination of collecting powerful people, cultivating and caring what she has, and being competitive, she made her choice. Eventually, my town of Buckley, Colorado became a hotspot for adventurers and characters from Runeterra to Teyvat, all governed and looked after by my 70 year-old grandma. To show out display of power, someone with the ability to command dragons tried to raid Buckley, only for grandma to call out those Dragon Callers and beckon the man’s mass of scalie flyers over to our side with ease. The guy was shook and ran off in his underwear- we burned the rest of his clothes.
So uh, yeah, that’s a quick overview of how my grandma Alice became the most OP superhero in America, and possibly the world. She just happened to have connections to everyone she knew- as long as they were on her phone.
Plus, we taught how the Raiden Shogun to cook. It was an experience. | The news said all this craziness was somehow caused by video games. I'm not a gamer. I don't understand any of these laser-lit teenagers, or their weird little pokee animals. I wouldn't have a clue what "powers" are possible based on video games. But I did play that farm thing on the Facebook for a while. Until it slowly got less and less fun, expecting you to pay to water, pay for gems, pay for coins, pay NOT to play it seemed. Micro-transactions I've heard them called, but whatever the name, I'm old enough to know when I'm being screwed. I'm also old enough to know that however much the world's changed some things will always be the same. I couldn't come up with a flashy power, but hey, why does Batman gets to pal around with his super friends without any super abilities? Turns out I knew just enough about gaming to gain the power to open any door in the world with the universal key. Bankroll! | 2022-05-10T13:58:59 | 2022-05-10T13:19:02 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | "Honey. Are you still angry at me?"
Vix, Empress of Medium Earth, Lady of Darkness, Queen of the Shadows let out a sigh, looking up from my throne to face her husband Andrew. He looked back at her, guilt and remorse spread across his face.
"I'm not angry at you," she muttered reluctantly. "I'm angry at the situation."
Andrew nodded in understanding. "I think maybe we should talk about it. If you're not ready yet, we can do it later," he replied.
Vix let out another sigh. She really didn't want to have this conversation.Still, communication was the foundation of all good relationships. "It's just," she paused, trying to think of how to articulate what she wanted to tell him. "Let me start by saying this. I know that all of this," she gestured at the skulls that lined the chamber around her, the furniture made from the bones of her enemies, and the two whimpering men shackled in chains in the corner of the room, "is not really your thing. And I really appreciate you being comfortable with it all."
"Well, I was never any good at interior design. Sure, it's not my style, but it's definitely got style," he replied, giving her a wink.
Vix gave her husband a smile. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. But thank you."
Andrew grinned back at her.
"No, I know that this isn't perhaps the lifestyle you would normally choose. Not to mention it comes with its own difficulties. We have to travel a lot to check on the Empire, and I have very little free time, not to mention the fact that there is a certain stigma that comes with my job. And I love that you've been trying to get involved!"
Andrew nodded. "But it has gone pretty terribly hasn't it?"
Vix hesitated. "I wouldn't say terribly," she said gently.
"I would," Andrew replied."I mean, there was the incident with 'The Spider'."
Vix winced slightly at the memory. Andrew had thought it would be a good idea to get to know her coworkers, and had decided to befriend her favourite assassin. After Andrew had advised him to follow his dreams, The Spider had decided to retire to open up a flower shop. Killing him had been a real shame, and his replacement just wasn't the same.
"Not to mention my attempt at being a torturer," he continued.
That had been frustrating. Andrew had tried tickling them. As an actual serious attempt. It would have been cute if they hadn't been withholding the knowledge of an approaching army. Not to mention he had fed all the prisoners that they were trying to starve tea and cake.
"And my stint as a negotiator didn't exactly succeed," he muttered.
True. Andrew had accidentally helped her soldiers set up a union. It had taken her months to stomp that notion out of them.
"And ruling one of the cities for you was a catastrophe."
Yes, the city of Vil declaring independence after he took over had caused her plenty of headaches.
He gave her a resigned look. "Perhaps I'm just not cut out for this. All I ever seem to do is burden you."
"Darling, that is not true!" Vix replied.
"Isn't it? I don't seem to help you at all!"
"Don't be ridiculous! You have been incredibly supportive. Most men and women would try to talk me out of my job. You not only encourage me, but actively try to get involved! You don't complain about the long hours, the travel, or the fact that we can't really make many friends! Even though I feel like I always have to have my game face on, I know I can always come to you when I need a break. I am so lucky to have you. I really wouldn't be able to do this without you!"
Vix stood up and moved towards her husband, clasping his hands within her own.
"Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way. What's something that you would like to do? Not to support me and further my goals, but something that brings you joy?" she asked.
Andrew shook his head. "No, we need to help with your career. After all it is more important. You worked so hard to get here."
"That is not true. We are equals in this relationship. And this conversation has helped me realise there hasn't been much compromise on my part."
"Well," Andrew said hesitantly, "remember back at the Inn where we first met? I was about to start learning to be a cook. Before you killed them all of course."
"Really?" Vix exclaimed in surprise. "You never told me that!"
"Well to be fair, there was a lot going on at the time!" Andrew chuckled.
"That's very true. Well how about this? You join the palace kitchens to learn from the cooks there. And then later, when you feel ready for it, we can send you out to the cities that are starting to feel discontent, and you can cook for the poor there, on behalf of the Empress. That seems suitably kind hearted that you might enjoy it?"
"That... that sounds perfect!" Andrew exclaimed excitedly. "And, while I'm doing that, I can keep listen and see if anyone is planning on uprising. And maybe even slip some poison into their food!"
"Darling, that is positively evil. I love it!" Vix exclaimed.
"Well, I am learning from the best," he replied, giving her a wink.
"You sly man. You really know how to make a Dark Lord feel special," Vix said with a blush. "You know what, I think I can take the afternoon off. Let me just kill those two in the corner, and we can spend some quality time together." | She was an evil one. Real villainous through and through—the corruption of middle-aged priests and golden college boys alike. Dirty brown hair draped down in curls and rested just above her heart, black mascara flashing, ruby lipstick glistening. She was beautiful. They said she could keep a dead heart beating and stain a red heart black. They said she was a witch.
They said a lot of things about her, mostly untrue, because they did not know her.
James first met Aubrey at the corner of Ninth and Flowers. It was snowing. She stood in front of the planned parenthood clinic, clutching a paper cup of cocoa. Milky steam rose just as the thick snowflakes fell and quelled any thoughts of warmth. He needed the tax office next door.
On his way inside, he curtsied, the grim acknowledgment between two people trapped in a blizzard. On his way back, an hour later, she was still standing there. He was curious, but most importantly he was freezing the tips of his fingers off, and he felt a tiny bit sorry for her.
“Aren’t you a bit cold?” he asked.
“I like it out here,” she said. “It’s so quiet.”
He stopped for a minute to consider. The snow had muted all noise around them. No honking horns from angered city traffic. No squawking birds. No other students yelling and jeering down the thoroughfare. He considered her words and decided they didn’t matter. “It’s freezing!”
She laughed, reached inside her parka and flashed a packet of hand warmers.
“That’s cheating,” he said.
She agreed. Then she tossed him one. Despite the weather, her eyes flashed warm and bright and her voice filled with fire. “Break all the rules.”
He shoved the warmer into the pocket of his jeans. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“A friend—she’s inside. I promised to wait outside for her, and no blizzard can stop me.”
They talked for a minute longer. He learned her name, learned she was studying ecology and learned she hated cats but tolerated rabbits and scorpions. She had a pet whipscorpion named Fabio. He was fabulous.
They talked until the door to the planned parenthood swung open and her friend stepped out into the snow. She was shorter than Aubrey, wearing a grey woolen sweater that matched her frightened paleness. She held two fresh cups of cocoa. Aubrey ran towards her. In the silent storm they embraced, Aubrey holding her close as if she never wanted to let go.
James took his cue to leave without saying goodbye.
They met again, weeks later, on the college plaza. Spring tempted the air. Thick jackets devolved into sweatshirts and a few brazen, horny frat boys donned their salmon shorts. They passed the center plaza like migrating fish. A preacher stood on a stump and shook his meat-fists at them, preaching repentance.
“Infidelity is a sin!” he cried.
James found Aubrey watching the preacher.
“Does he know how silly he looks?” she asked him.
“I don’t think he cares.”
“I guess not,” she said, lips curling up in a smile.
He asked her out for hiking.
The hillside was covered in morning shadow, pockets of snow peppering the grey thornbush with radiant white. Scrub oak covered the rocks like a thick beard. The path was short. It wound through the forest, switchbacking lazily as it climbed.
The sun beat down as it rose.
And each measured footstep fell.
There was little to say. They drank in the beauty of the trail, the silent sweat-struggle as they climbed said more than words ever could. Panting breaths fell heavy at the summit. They lay back against the rocks and sipped water.
The view was immaculate.
The rocky tower rose above the valley as a monument to all things unbreakable. They could see for miles. But James wasn’t looing out at the valley. He lost himself in the deep pools of Aubrey’s eyes. Leaned in close. Felt the touch of her breath on his cheeks as his heartblood thundered as their eyes met like spring lightning. He bent towards her, sweet in the air.
“If this is sin, then I don’t ever want to be a saint,” he whispered.
Their lips pressed together.
Their fingers twined, heartbeats thumping towards all things evil. | 2020-04-14T06:39:01 | 2020-04-14T06:02:04 | 439 | 143 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | *They're actually really nice once it comes time to kill you here.*
This was my fleeting thought as I combed my hair in the giant floor length mirror I was finally permitted. They bent over backwards for the last day. Even let a professional make up team come to paint my face. The man who collected my requests didn't understand, but he was happy to assist. A white silk gown with a gold belt and tassels were easy to procure. Finding a dress with pockets delayed them a week or two, but in the end, they were pleased to get it to me. The warden even laughed in my face.
"You thought you had us. You thought the pocket dress would be impossible!" He had taunted. "But we have found more obscure things before."
"Have you?" I adjusted my hat, placing it at a jaunty angle. A public execution gave me an audience. I wanted to look my best. "I'm sure you're very proud of yourself. It can't be easy getting glass slippers and dragon hide gloves."
The wardens sneer vanished for a moment but before he could say anything, the chef stormed in.
"You sick, twisted freak. How could you?" He demanded. The warden swiveled. "How dare you? You can't have that. Pick something else."
"No. My last meal is my right."
The warden turned on the chef. "Whatever she wants, she gets. It doesn't matter-just get it."
"Sir- I can't. *We* can't" the chef looked at the warden with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please, don't do this."
The warden took the note with my request. "Apples? I done apples? Surely you could fond them?" The warden reached into the chefs bag and plucked out the requested food stuff, a bright golden apple. I smiled and took it from him. "You know, in ancient Greece, you and I would be married for this"
I winked and took a bite even as the chef lunged to take the apple back. "No! No. No. No! What have you done?" He demanded of the warden.
"I done apple. What's wrong with an I done apple?" The warden shrugged and smirked at me. "Enjoy while it lasts."
I took another big bite as the chef dropped to his knees. "Not I done. Idun.. an apple of Idun. We looked into it sir... the apples are from the Norse Goddess of youth. The apples grant immortality"
I watched in enjoyment as the warden put the pieces together. "You mean she- She-"
"That's right." I grinned and polished off the apple. "Kill me all you want, I'll never die."
I strolled out to meet the executioner, even as I felt unending life surge through my body. After all, I had an audience. | "I don't understand what you're saying. Can we do it or not?"
"What I'm saying is, I'm not sure. Modern science theory assumes that the luminiferous aether doesn't exist."
"So it's another 'doesn't exist' case. Easy. Make something up and name it luminous whatever."
"Not that simple sir... unlike the usual imaginary cases, luminiferous aether actually does have an existing, scientifically codified definition. We would have to create something that fit the definition."
"Well, get the scientists on it then. We've gotten breakthroughs before- remember the one that requested a black hole singularity? Most expensive last meal to date. Sure it was microscopic, but we had a whole commity verify that they had created and suspended a black hole in stasis with sufficient lifetime to be swallowed. The journalists loved that one."
"Yes, sir. But in that case, black holes were already known to exist, and we even knew how to create them, it was just a matter of getting all the specifics down."
"Hmm. Well maybe we can treat it as a technicality? Like the request for the body of Jesus Christ... honestly, that was even easier than the usual "flesh of so and so". We didn't need to fire up the tissue cloning machine, we just got a Catholic priest to come and do communion. The prisoner argued that it didn't count of course, but it was ruled valid."
"That is probably our best bet, sir. I'll have to go read over the exact wording a few more times."
"Then get to it. Dismissed." | 2022-07-17T22:09:37 | 2022-07-17T20:02:33 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] You are a superhero who's ability subconciously freezes time whenever someone nearby is in mortal danger. Usually its obvious who's in trouble and you can save them quickly, but not this time - it's been 10 years.
Edit: guys the responses have been amazing, some funny stories and some deeper, darker ones too! Keep them coming in, I've been reading them all! | "Well I think that's everybody". I spoke to myself. It was a way to hear a human voice. Everything was otherwise entirely silent. I had just finished running through the last of the blood work. Nothing dangerous there.
It had all started 10 years ago. Time had stopped, as happens to me, and I looked around for whoever was in danger. Nobody in particular. I had checked through every single person in a ten mile radius from where I had frozen. It had taken the equivalent of months. A few people had been in trouble, kids falling out of trees, a man about to cut himself with a chainsaw, traffic accidents, but none of it had reset me. Normally, when the person in danger is safe I become suddenly aware, and given the time to get back to my starting position. But not this time.
They were never further than a few miles from me when I froze, I knew I was going overboard with a ten mile radius, but... I couldn't find *the* person. So I had expanded my search. A hundred miles. Found a bunch more people in trouble, but still no *ding* of awareness.
So I had spent even longer, hunting down back histories of the people around me, to see if there was any implicit danger, family feuds or the like. Then I had hunted a second time, more thoroughly. Basements, fallen down buildings, *anywhere* they could be. But nothing.
After that… well I had to get creative. I spent a few years teaching myself medicine, and started giving everybody around me medical checks. I found cancers, genetic diseases, viral and bacterial infections…. But I still didn’t reset.
.. and now its been ten years. *ten* **years**….. gods I've been saying "ten years" for far too long, but I just stopped counting. I feel so old but can’t even age here.
I sigh and stare at my hands.
….
I never did check *my* health.
Minutes pass, or the ethereal equivalent, as I wait for the machines to give me my answer. Actually I don’t think I’m very good at guessing the passage of time any more. Could have been weeks.
…
Well that strongly suggests I have Lymphoma.
The little nudge goes off in my head.
Damn.
------------------------------
**A television blares out the news in the background as a man walks past a shop window**
*A Miracle occurred last week when several hundreds of thousands of people in the east bypass area found notes in their pockets with complete medical workups. Many of those people are now undergoing treatment for illnesses they previously didn’t even realise they had.*
| "I'm gunna do it". 3 years of searching and 7 years of whatever this is called. No one to talk to, no breeze, no sunrise and no sunset. There's so much I didn't do and all the time in the world yet all i see is the motionless bodies who are waiting for me. I can't bare to go home. The letter I've left should explain...only if this works.
It's funny thinking about all the ways I would have really hurt myself attempting suicide. Guns won't fire, can't jump in front of a train. But this one should do the trick. It has to work. I'm the last thing that could be the reason for this.
Time for one last swim to get this sweat off. I decide to do it properly. I miss falling water droplets. I go to the changing room and change. And I see a glimpse of myself in the mirror. No fucking way. There's a bee in between my shoulder blades.
I flap around and finally compose myself to scoop it away. And a massive roar of sound I haven't heard for years surround me. Splashing water, screaming kids, bird song, hair dryers, swoosh swoosh and then silence!!! Everyone stares at me. I just realised I've suddenly appeared from nowhere, stark naked in the men's changing rooms. People are seeing me again. | 2017-09-07T01:47:15 | 2017-09-06T22:37:48 | 92 | 44 |
[WP] You are the inventor of the most powerful optical microscope. While testing it with some of your own skin cells, you find a tech support number on each of your cells. You decide to call it. | Roger ran his fingers over the smooth dermo-plastic of the android's thigh. Her muscles tensed by the touch of his fingertips, and tiny goosebumps prickled up. There was something special about building such an advanced creature from nothing -- it made him feel powerful, almost divine.
The surgical lights in the ceiling glittered in the reflection on his scalpel. With a quick cut, he sliced through her perfect skin, drawing a stream of synthetic blood that trickled down into the table drain. It pained him to ruin such a flawless texture, but this was a job.
Roger glanced over at the image board again. So much scar tissue and awkwardly healed skin. He wondered what had happened to the girl in the photo. The clients never provided a background or medical history -- just pictures and brain scans. Sometimes he fantasized about what the small blemishes on the skin meant. He'd become quite good at drawing parallels between the scans and the photos. Some cuts were self-inflicted, others were marks of survival or mistakes.
Sculpting the skin of an android was like following a map. Often they led to new insights, or opened the window into a person's life. But this girl's scars were different, and Roger couldn't decide what had caused them.
He was just about to start cutting again when the phone rang. Cursing, he dropped the knife and wriggled out of his gloves before exiting the operation room.
"Welcome to Artificial Angel -- this is Dr. Lowick speaking," Roger said.
"What?" the voice of a teenage boy said on the other end.
Roger sighed and repeated what he'd just said and then added, "How can I help you?"
"I... I was looking into my dad's microscope and... and I found this number on my skin."
Roger swore inwardly. "Where is your dad now?"
"Um... I don't know?"
Roger rolled his eyes and stepped over to the client database. Some people just didn't listen. There were extensive mental repercussions when an android got compromised. With the level of neglect some parents showed, it didn't surprise him that the originals had died.
"What's your name, kid?" Roger said.
"Joseph Gardener..." the boy mumbled. "Why is there a number...?"
"You need to get your dad on the phone." The doctor scrolled through the clients.
"He's not here." The boy's voice quaked with impatience and confusion. "Why is there a number?"
"Listen, Joe," Roger said. "Can you sit down for a bit, and I'll explain everything."
"Right, fine." A clatter came from the other end. "Okay, yeah, I'm sitting. What now?"
Roger opened the file and looked at the picture of a blond boy in his early teens. He was the son of one 'Anthony Gardener' and had died twenty years ago. The boy on the phone was one of the first replacements that Artificial Angel had created, and had been thirteen years old for nineteen years now.
"Hello?" Joseph said. "Are you there?"
"Yes..." Roger said, scrolling through the client file. He finally reached the bottom and cleared his throat. "Lilac Meridian 23-133-17."
Another clatter came from the other end of the call. Roger looked at the watch and waited in silence for a full minute.
"Joseph, are you there?"
No answer.
"Good," he mumbled and hung up.
The doctor wriggled out of his coat, and exited the laboratory. He'd have to make a visit to the Gardener's and make sure that Joseph worked as he should after the forced shut down.
\*\*\*
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more of my stories | *It actually started ringing. The number wasn't a fake, then again how could it be a fake. To be able to leave a phone number on a cell.*
It kept ringing a few times, each sound sending a new shiver through my body.
*Why was I so nervous, then again all this was so surreal, how could I not be?*
Then a crackling noise announced that someone had lifted the receiver.
*Does that mean it was an ancient phone with a cord and all? Does it even matter at this point? Focus Jim, Focus.*
'Hello?' a female voice answered.
'H-Hello.' i managed to stutter.
'Who's there, what's your business?' the voice inquired.
'I-I'd like to know that aswell.' I replied nervously.
*God, why does my smarts have to leave me at such a moment, why am I so socially awkward. Just give her a name would you Jim you just invented this magnificent microscope. You can handle a simple phone call!*
'Are you a creep? Why'd you call my number?' the female voice seemed slightly agitated.
'I-I'm Jim. A-are you g-god?'
*Really Jim, Really? Aren't you supposed to be a scientist?*
Instead of an answer all i got was laughter to the point you could hear some snorting. It took the other side a few minutes to calm themselves and give an appropriate answer.
'No Jim. I'm not God ... Wait where'd you get this number' the tone of the voice changed midway through talking and suddenly appeared to be serious.
'It's written on the cell membrane in my body.' I answered truthfully.
Then silence followed, but it appeared someone was still on the other side.
*why did i have to go all out? Did I blew my chance?*
Then the voice came back. 'So you are a creep after all.'
Then the monotone sound like the one when someone hangs up on you appeared. I was about to hang up and try again but the feeling like there was still someone there hadn't left yet. Just like before so I waited.
It took sometime but then i could hear another faint voice asking.
'Did he buy it Karen?'
'shh stupid, it didn't ring again yet, he might still be there. You and your stupid bad puns.' Karen's voice answered faintly but seriously angry.
'Well common Karen. I couldn't pass the chance. I mean literally it's a cell phone number.'
| 2018-08-14T07:38:50 | 2018-08-14T06:45:36 | 366 | 148 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | First post here. Please let me know what you think!!
"Jesus fucking christ dude. Your room stinks worse than a homeless shelter"
The lady in a black jacket strolled from the darkness. It was so sudden it made me jump. But the leaving the window unlocked had worked, she was inside.
"Sorry. My momma didn't taught me to knock before breaking and entering an evil lair."
The cynicism in her voice was a bit annoying, i admit. But i tried to give her the merits she deserved. A ruthless vigilante operating in the cloak of the night. Who protects the weak and needy. Who stands up against the wicked. Remarkable. Still, her heroism stung like a shard of poison within me. I never liked heroes. And i never will.
"Now, listen. I actually have some stuff to take care of, so whaddaya say we make this quick. Feel free to go wild, tho. I like a good fight." She said with a crack of her nuckles.
I thrive in deceit. Deception is my virtue.
As naturally as my inhuman powers allowed, i turned around, ready to face her fierce eyes and careless smirk.
"Oh...THANK GODD!" I mustered, with great pain. The despair was so believable i almost actually felt it.
I walked in a limp, barely withstanding the weight of my corrupted body. My face twisted into a worrying mess. As though i was in real pain.
The woman stopped in her act. She looked at me dazed, and i could see the fear clinging onto her. I'm sure it wasn't a pleasurable visage: a shadow of a person, seemingly malnourished, with a concerning amount of tumors sprunging from all across their body. Jet black veins adorning their sallow skin. My skin.
"God bless you, Rue Revenger, god bless...your soul..." i let out, with a deep coughing. "That...thing...was here. It...attacked me!. Please...save me."
She took a step back. Her eyes wide as the full moon shinning its light through the open window.
"Don't...don't panic. I'll get you outta here. Stay put." With a determined walk, she approached me.
She wrapped her arms around me. I wrapped my arms around her. And i wrapped my other arms around her neck.
She was very strong. I often force myself to admit that, because frankly, it was very easy to pin her to the ground.
"Agh! You MOTHERFUCKER!" She tried to rip my extremities off. My veins tensed up and she could no longer move.
"You'll have to find another career in the future" i said as i put my foot on her spine. "Very near future". I pressed my weight against her back.
A few cracks later, Rue Revenger was officially retired from the vigilante world. Quite joyful at the breaking news, she never stopped screaming. | I always thought it was funny that they expect a monologue, that when they're beaten and on the ground that they will get a chance to take a breather and turn it around like some grand spectacle.
But that's not what my dad taught me, he always said "if you're in a fight and knock them down make sure they stay down" which is what I do.
"What do you want" the voice of the man tied up in front of me breaking me out of my reverie. It's was little more than a hoarse whisper through his broken jaw. I turned to look at the costumed fool, his bright red, white, and blue outfit covered in blood.
"I thought it was obvious, I'm going to kill you" I said calmly as approached him pulling out my knife, the green blade glowing slightly. I'll admit I enjoyed the look off fear on his face as he tried to pull away from me.
"Why" he asked desperately trying to by for time.
"Well that's not really you're problem anymore is it" I pulled his head forward and pressed my knife into his neck perfectly aimed to sever his spine. He started to scream but I tuned it out just like the others, he wouldn't be screaming long anyways.
I left the body slumped over, it wouldn't be long before the others supers found him and I needed to be long gone. As I walked down the road I pulled out my phone and looked up the news, the first headline I saw "HUNDREDS KILLED IN BATTLE BETWEEN THE SPEEDSTER AND ICE-MANIAC IN DOWNTOWN." I sighed shaking my head, thinking to myself "the jobs never done is it" | 2019-08-06T20:52:17 | 2019-08-06T19:22:38 | 53 | 30 |
[WP] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic's head. | "Wait where am I? Why can't I move? Why can't I see anything?"
I struggled and tried to move but I couldn't. After what felt like hours light filled my eyes. I didn't open as much they opened on there own. I began to get up and move around an apartment but I wasn't in control. I quickly realized I was not in my own body but watching someone else through there eyes. Quite a strange experience to say the least and soon I became curious, could I communicate with this person? He was at work by now so I decided that it'd be best to try when he was alone, so I waited until his morning bathroom break.
"Hey, you, who are you?"
He looked left then right, I think he knew that my voice didn't come from outside of hum.
"Hey man, I'm like in your head or something"
"R-R-Really?" He asked out loud, I couldn't read his thoughts but I could hear him.
"Yeah man I'm up just chilling up here, where am I? Who are you?"
"OOkaayy... I'm George... George Alberts. We're at my job, I'm just a desk monkey for an accounting firm."
"Cool, I'm just going to chill out."
The weeks went by every once in a while, when he was alone, I'd chat with George. He was a nice guy, a little boring but nice. After about a month George snuck off to the bathroom, checked to make sure the coast was clear and said:
"Hey head voice man"
"Yeah"
"I think we need to stop our little talks, it's starting to drive me mad"
I felt really bad for him, just a normal dude with some random disembodied voice in his head.
"Okay man I understand, I'll be quiet."
"Thanks"
Over the next few months I sat there still, alone. George lived his life and at least he had a good taste in TV and movies. He had a good group of friends and I felt like I began to know them, Even though I knew I couldn't. I needed some fun of my own, anything at all.
I started to mess with George, bothered him a bit. A little scare hear and there, a noise that he was never sure if it was real. I'd whisper things to him.
I'd prod him at work. "George, George, you know you're insane"
He'd reply in a quite mutter and shake is head.
I did my best to keep him up at night, he was starting to lose sleep. He'd go to work groggy and it began to affect his work. Then, one day after a particularly rough night, he got fired.
"George you piece of shit, getting fired from your job. It's your fault"
"Just go away"
"Make me, or can you even do that"
"Stop please"
"No, you're worthless"
"No I'm not, now so damn it."
"I'll keep going until you completely lose it."
The more I played the father I wanted to push him, how far could he go? I intended to find out. one day while he was walking to job interview I started really pushing him.
"Why don't you just push that kid into the street?"
No response
"Come on, do it"
"No" He whispered
"Pussy"
He only grimaced at that last response. During his interview I just screamed at him. All he could do was stutter.
"You bastard you ruined that for me! What am I supposed to do now?"
"Well you could get a gun and just shoot up the place?"
"No no stop, no" He sobbed
I prodded on, until he finally gave in.
George was good man, I regret what I did to him. Driving him insane, like me. I should have just let him be, if I knew how boring a white padded room could be, I wouldn't have played my game. | ***Wake up Jimmy***
I said in a soft and whispery voice.
***Wake up Jimmy, it's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not happening, I'm not hearing another voice!!!*
***Oh, yes you are, I'm here, inside your mind. Did you think this moment would never happen? Did you think you are not insane?***
*But, but, but I'm not and I know this voice is not real, I'm dreaming.*
As Jimmy slaps his face trying to wake and opening his eyes, sitting on bed. He is wearing a white shirt with a white jeans, while he looks around he can see several other beds with people wearing the same clothing as he is.
*What is this place? Where am I?*
*Good morning Jimmy, woke up early today!* Said Doc. Brown with a smile on his face and a very calm and soft voice.
*How do you know my name? Where am I?*
*Jane, I think it's happening again. Call Doc. Stephen here*
*Ok Doc, I will also bring the guards in case we get out of control.* Whispered Jane at Doctor's Brown ear.
*So, Jimmy. Can I call you like...*
*Who are you? What am I doing in here?* Interrupted Jimmy with a scared look at his face, eyes wide opened wondering if that is a dream or not.
***THEY CAME HERE TO KILL YOU JIMMY!***
*NO, NO, NOOO!* Screamed Jimmy out loud. Doctor Brown steped back from Jimmy, while staring at him with both hands pressing against his head.
***They are coming to take us, to knock us down. Look at his hand, he is getting something out of his pocket, run, run as fast as you can.***
Doctor Brown was removing his pen from the pocket when suddenly Jimmy punched him in the face and made him fall on the floor.
***There is a door on the left, go for it then another on the right, run!***
Jimmy couldn't stop running and bumping into others, when the guards saw it they started to chase him and screaming that he should better stop or they would shoot him down with tranquilizers.
***This is happening Jimmy, now continue to run and open the next door at your right, It's nurse's Jane office, there you will find all you need to...***
Bam! Jimmy opened the door while breathing heavely and as he started to walk inside the room a very bright light started to shine from above, he could barely see anything.
***Wake up Jimmy***
***Wake up Jimmy, It's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not HAPPENING!!! NOT AGAIN!*
***Oh yeah, you are now trapped with me forever Jimmy!***
| 2015-03-23T06:56:50 | 2015-03-23T05:47:41 | 38 | 16 |
[WP]: "I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you managed to fuck up a five-word sentence, offend the inhabitants of three planets and start a world war at the same time." | "Okay Mr President I'm very sorry-"
"VERY SORRY!? THAT DOESN'T QUITE CUT IT HERE, RHYS"
Okay I fucked up. Man, now Obama is mad at me. Nothing worse than presidential guilt.
"Sir, in all due respect, I'm sure I can fix this." I managed to stammer out.
"Okay Mr Racist, how are you going to fix this?". Obama stared straight through me. His eyes fixated on mine, and the rage was building beneath his skin.
"What If I say sorry to them? They gotta understand it was a very simple misunderstanding."
"You want to tell them you were sorry." Obama replied dully.
"Yeah they seem like pretty understanding aliens" I beamed out. I knew he'd understand me here.
"You believe that the Warlords of Korkan, The Slave Drivers of Ta'sheek and the Planet Reapers of Vorkash are understanding aliens."
Obama was unimpressed with me.
"Well they don't sound very understanding when you say their titles like that, they actually sound rather horrifying"
"Because they are absolutely horrifying Rhys. They have teeth where teeth shouldn't be."
"I don't even know why they're so upset they must have noticed it themselves" I retorted.
"Rhys. All you had to say was ""We are humans, not meat."". That is a ridiculously easy sentence to say. But, what did you say?"
"I uhh... I said ""You all look the same"" Sir."
"That is literally the worst thing you could have said. That is nowhere near what you were meant to say." Obama slammed his fists down onto his table in anger.
"They do look the same though!" I yelled.
"That's not the point! You fucking idiot!"
Man, I hate when Obama is mad at me. | Timothy looked at the computer console in horror. He'd clicked the 'send' button by mistake. Their intergalactic reputation was ruined. In a haste to send a galactic broadcast message, Timothy had used the copy-paste feature to quickly select some text.
The issue was, Timothy had not actually input the correct command; he was a key off. He ended up pasting a crude message from an online forum. He could not react fast enough, and sent it by mistake.
His supervisor looked on in horror as he broadcast: "You cock juggling thundercunt fuckers" to the whole galaxy. | 2015-06-19T01:21:54 | 2015-06-19T01:12:02 | 684 | 126 |
[WP] You have the ability to see ghosts and other supernatural beings, but have to pretend otherwise so that you won't get their attention. You had been successful, but after your spouse died in an accident, you struggle to ignore their attempts to interact with you. | I have always been able to see Ghosts. I remember the first one I saw. I didn’t know what I was seeing. It was only the top half of a person, from head to waist, just hoovering around the streets. It was going through people, like they weren’t there. I froze and watched, scared. My mum grabbed and squeezed my hand.
“It’s okay, darling. Don’t look at them, don’t talk to them and they will leave you alone.” We carried on walking. Could she see it too?
We sat down in a quiet corner of a café. She looked around, before she started talking to me. “If you don’t interact with them, they will continue to think no one can see them. If you do, they’ll all come to you.” I remember that day all too well. I have always followed my mum's advice, I have never interacted them, just ignored them. Sometimes, that has been difficult but it’s what I needed to do. To try and live a normal life. My mum is the only person that ever knew I could see ghosts and I’ve always made it stay that way.
Ignoring ghosts has been harder to do lately. My husband, Jace, died in a car accident a couple of months ago. A horrible, horrible car accident. The roads were very wet, as we have had horrible rain the whole day. He was driving home from work, but there was an idiot driver on the road, who lost control of his car. He went straight into Jace, which pushed him off the road. I remember getting the call. Jace was going to come home from work, then we were going to go for our anniversary dinner, it was our 5th. He was taken too soon!
I still see Jace, every day. I don’t know what to do. I want to be able to continue to see and talk to my husband. I feel so lost without him being here, by my side, every day. I knew this was the time I needed to talk about with my mum.
I sat in the kitchen, with a hot cup of coffee. I didn’t know where to start.
“Can you see them too?” I finally asked her.
“Yes” My mum replied.
There was a pause. I wanted to ask her this for so long, but now I needed to know what to do with Jace.
“I see him, every day. I want to talk to him so badly.”
----
Edit: Continued in the comments below.
| You linger
In my mind
Juliet
On my mind
Everyday
Moonlight that should
Give way
To dawn
I see you at the kitchen table
As I hold my tea
And add in salt
In splishing splashing drops
A slick rainbow smudge
Drifts aimlessly across my drink
As I stare at you
Across the table
You have your hair
Long locks that had fallen from you
Your skin less stretched across
your cheeks
Less smeared across your bones
Pale palid face
Now glows
I hear you laugh
Giggle
I taste your perfume
As it plays across the air
You whisper my name
As you reach out a hand
Come
The tea trembles
scared in my hand
It weeps down the mug
I close my eyes
My heart thumps
You're not there
I tell myself
You're not waiting
Just shadows playing
You're not waiting
Do I keep you here, Juliet?
Do I coax you back
To stave off
Despair
Or is that who you are?
I open my eyes
You remain seated
I remain
| 2019-03-30T02:58:38 | 2019-03-30T02:32:25 | 172 | 26 |
[WP] The Alien Federation has been keeping tabs on the humans of Earth since they first appeared. They do surveillance missions once every 300 years to keep track of our progress, the last mission was 300 years ago. The aliens are shocked by our progress since 1714. | "Wouldn't you know it, the whole damn planet's gone to hell."
"It's not so bad."
"You should have been here three cycles ago. There was so much pristine wilderness, thousands of magnitude more than anything we have back home. It was beautiful. You could camp, hunt, take trophies, anything you wanted three cycles ago. Now they're all obsessed with finding proof of us."
"It's kind of cool watching them advance. They're going so slow we can really study them. Did they have internal combustion power last cycle?"
"I don't know. Maybe some of them did. They're all so damn secretive, it's hard to tell what's what. For two whole cycles we thought they were back to hunting and gathering until we realized that was just one part of the world, the other one had developed explosive warfare and a bureaucracy."
"Don't you think we should help them? Isn't that sort of our duty?"
"I want to set them back, is what I want. I want those great empty plains back to run around in, now they're all paved and all the fun animals are dead."
"Just think, if we could introduce them to stasis systems and efficient geo-thermal energy, they could vastly improve their quality of life and we could start trading with them."
"I could cook up a plague just with the stuff I have on the ship. Cull the herds, and get my big forests back. I miss those forests."
"They have wonderful forests! Some of them are bigger than our biggest cities! What more could you want with forests?"
"You wouldn't understand. You should have seen them eight cycles ago. It was different then. All the fun animals are almost extinct now. Now the humans are still on combustion power and they've barely touched their moon. They're boring."
"No one said our job was supposed to be fun."
"Yeah, I guess. But it used to be."
"Just get on with the counting."
"I was serious about what I got in the ship. We could cut them back down to size. Forests spanning sea to sea in half a cycle. It'd be a beauty to see." | I always loved the fjords the most. They were my pride and joy in the creation of Earth. Would you believe that I won an award for it? Oh sure the dolphins and mice will tell you the pluses of other parts of that insignificant spec, but it's the fjords that truly took my breath away.
Looking at Earth in hindsight, it really could have been better. Less humans to start with. Oh when that ship landed there and those idiots began populating it, who could have thought the ramifications they would have had? They were gullible enough to actually leave their home planet and believe that the others were soon following. Stupid humans. Good riddance I say.
Thank Great Green Arkleseizure that the Vogons destroyed it. | 2014-10-26T15:47:52 | 2014-10-26T15:06:02 | 148 | 39 |
[WP] "I wish for infinite wishes." "Everyone knows that's not allowed." "Then I wish for 1000 wishes." "Nope, not allowed either." "Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes." | Negative six?
Huh. Nobody's ever asked for that before.
I waited for the 21-year old male to unravel some master plan. To explain why wishing for negative six wishes was a genius move that I couldn't twist in any way, shape or form.
But no. He just stood there. Patiently waiting.
"Are, uh- Are you sure?" I asked.
Damn. I'd never asked that before.
He simply nodded. I thought to myself for a minute. What did "negative wishes" even mean? What was I meant to do? If I was therefore removing his 3 existing wishes, and adding three other negative ones, was I breaking my own rules by "adding" a set of other wishes? Would I owe HIM wishes, making him become the genie instead of me?
"Ahem. Um, alright. Your wish is my command..." I replied. I decided to just let my mind empty out, snap my fingers, and see where it took me. Maybe there would be life-altering consequences. Maybe it had a tiny effect, and this guy was just stupid.
"You now have...6 negative wishes." I replied.
There was some silence for a couple of seconds.
"So...isn't something supposed to happen?" The man asked. I was taken aback.
"What now? It's YOUR wish. It's not my fault that it doesn't make any sense. Why would you even wish for that?" I asked.
"I dunno. Just wanted to see what would happen." He replied.
Oh my god.
He was simply an idiot.
"Well, because of this, you don't have any...uh...positive wishes left. I suppose I'll have to bid you good day." I told him. He just shrugged, and turned around. It surprised me, to say the least. It's not every day you see a man so emotionless towards a being of magic, much less waste 3 precious wishes.
I prepared to enter my lamp, but something was wrong. I couldn't enter. I tried to materialize my body into smoke, and enter the prison, like I had done 100 times before. But it didn't work. Somehow, I needed to fix whatever this guy did.
"Great. Now I'm stuck here." I groaned, "So, 'Master'. How do you suggest that I cast your 'negative wishes'."
The guy didn't reply to me. He was too fixated on some ancient cave drawings. Why was he even here in the first place? Everything about him still baffled me.
"Hello? Hey! It's your fault I'm still stuck here! Now help me this instant!" I demanded. The male finally turned around.
"I guess I owe you three wishes now." He told me.
"That's not how it works."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not a genie. I'M the genie. I'm bound to give wishes for the rest of eternity. Just because I subtracted your wishes, doesn't put you in a higher position than me."
"How do you know that?"
"Huh?"
"Well, it seems this is the first time this has happened to you. Sooo... how do you know that's not how it works?"
Huh.
I didn't think about THAT either.
This was strange. As a genie, I was always smarter than everyone. I'd outsmarted dictators. Scientists. The occasional prince. How was this simpleton confusing me so much?
"Fine, then. I'll ask for a wish. You grant it, if you're so sure." I told him, "I wish... that I was a human. Go ahead. I'm waiting."
The male snapped his fingers a couple of times. He waited. Nothing. He did it again. Nothing. He made a couple of strange movements. Nothing.
"Guess it doesn't work like that." He replied.
"Come on! I'm not gonna be stuck like this until you die! That wasn't my plan!" I lamented, hovering on top of one of the piles of treasure in the cave.
"What plan?" The simpleton asked. I was angry at him, and had no intention of speaking to him, but I couldn't help myself.
"Well, I always thought that I'd finally meet the alleged "diamond in the rough"... Someone who would eventually give me my wish of becoming a human being. Someone generous enough to look past wealth, and attractiveness, and power. And now, I've gotta wait even longer." I said.
"Oh. I'm sorry." He replied. I snorted.
"Nothing much we can do about it now, anyways. I've just have to wait until you die." I said.
"Well, you can hang with me then!" He exclaimed. I sighed. I had nothing else to do in this life, anyways.
The next 2 years went by in a blur. I learnt the simpleton's story. His name was Aaron Cobbler, and I found out his 6 greatest regrets.
How he flunked out of his second year of college because of the pressure of being too perfect.
How his siblings were always more successful.
How he never found love.
How he ran away from his family, and always felt regret for it.
How he discovered that he was dying of a disease.
and how his real passion was exploring, but he was never able to see it through.
He entered my cave, not for riches, but to prove that his dream was worth following. After that, he came out of that cave a new man. He felt more at peace with himself than ever before.
We travelled the world. Saw the 7 wonders. For the first time in my life I had...fun. And a week after our trip to the Pyramids of Giza, Aaron succumbed to death. Right before I returned back to my lamp, I had finally figured out his wish for negative wishes.
Sure, a part of it was simply due to stupidity. He could've wished for me to become a human. He could've wished for himself to not suffer from a painful disease. But part of me feels like he knew what would happen. Having "negative wishes" was never a thing. The real wish was accomplished right in that cave. The wish made Aaron finally let go of his 6 greatest regrets, his wishes of being who everyone else wanted him to be. In our 2 years travelling, Aaron's parents, siblings, education, love, failed dreams, and the home he ran away from never crossed his mind once.
Why I wasn’t able to enter my lamp in the first place, I still never found it. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know what wish I had accomplished. Maybe Aaron gave me a moment of free will.
I lived the rest of my days as a genie. Nobody ever freed me. Everyone wished for power, wealth and love. Yet, even as the years flew by, I always remembered the one man who made the perfect wish, one that I couldn't twist with a loophole, and one that changed his last remaining years for the better. I'll always respect him for that. | Contrary to popular belief, genies are not giant blue beings of smoke or clouds, and instead look like a grumpy 80 year old former marine, who has buried his wife, and the only joy in life that have left, is seeing how much they can make a stupid's person life suffer, by twisting their wishes.
And there he sat, arms cross, wearing military fatigues, and even chewing a cigar "Nope" he said, even spit on the ground at the end of the word to make the point that we were done with that subject matter, to my wish for infinite wishes.
"How about 1000 wishes?" I asked, wondering if maybe having a fixed number would work.
The dead pan look on his face made me think he was about to drag into some back ally and beat me for this, after a moment of chewing his cigar in about the most threating manner someone could do it "Nope" he said again.
"How about Negative 6 wishes" I said, wondering how this might end.
the Genie ran his finger across his limps for a moment before backhanding me to the ground, the hit felt light as air, but also felt like being hit by a hurricane.
"Listen here child, I have been a genie for the last 47 years" is said, cracking it's knuckles in the process "I freed the previous Genie by swapping places with them, and while I am have no idea how they put up with people's stupid's for the last ten thousand years, I'll have you know, I'll have none of that"
I went to protest, but he grew, now looking like a muscled titan standing over me, legit, he stepped so he would be standing over me, reaching down and pining me to the ground "Do you really want some negative in your life son, because I am about to give you a whole lot of negative, so much negative, you're gonna be ecstatic to just go back to your daily mundane life, that what you want *son*!"
The way he said negative and son, felt like he was cussing at me, in fact, it took me a lot longer to then I care to admit, to finally grasp he had not cussed at all, and was in waiting for me to respond, like somehow, he needed me to say something, as he was pinning me to the ground with the palm of his hand.
I squeaked out "Yes sir"
His eyes opened up like he just drank battery acid "you want that?" he said again, as if trying to process what just happened here, and if I truly was stupid enough to want so much negative in my life.
I realized then what I said, it was instinct to say Yes Sir, but in reality, I really did not want whatever negative this guy was gonna give, but, dammit, lets see where this ball goes "yes Sir" I said again, now with a bit more volume and strength.
Squinting at me "What did you say Son?"
"I said Yes Sir , Sir!" I now felt like I was channeling the recruits from full metal jacket.
Picking me up, and changing back to his old, gray, angry self, "Alright, you know what, you got your 6 negative wishes, but, I ain't gonna answer them, nahh, see this is how it's gonna go, you write down your wish on a postage stamp, nothing smaller than 7 point font, neat print like, then you stick that wish on a post card, and mail it to your mother, and when she gets it, your wish will be granted"
"My mother is dead"
"I never said I was gonna make it easy son, I just said you're getting your wishes" the Genie said, then turning around and waving his hand as if brushing me off.
"Wait I get 2 more wishes"
"Nope" he said, still walking away slowly.
I rushed after him "I only used one wish, I still get 2 more"
"You wanted 6 negative wishes, that replaces all other wishes you can get, not to mention you wasted your first two asking for more wishes"
"But you didn't grant them"
"That Does ***Not*** matter you still wished for them, next time, don't be a dummy, and wish for something you actually want, like money, or a bigger package" he said.
I made the mistake of putting my hand upon him, and next thing I knew, I was pinned against the wall again, that angry hulked out titan in military fatigues was back, glowing red eyes, burning with hate, and still chewing that cigar. "I am only going to say this once son" he said, in real slow words, making sure that I heard every single one of them "You do not, *ever*, put your hands upon me"
"yes sir" I forced out as he was pressing my chest into the wall, making it hard to breath, mush less talk.
"Good" he let me go and slid down the wall. "Now, you strike me as the kind of person that really needs to hear this, life is hard, it's harder if your dumb, so, stop being dumb, and figure out how to get those letters to your mom, good luck, you're gonna need it, and maybe wish for smarts, while you are at it" he said, slowly turning back to the old marine I first met, now wearing his aces.
"We good?" he said , taking the cigar out of his mouth, and crushing into dust in his hand.
"yes sir" I said.
"Good" he said, flatly, and in a event of finality as he walked away and faded from view, leaving me there to ponder my fate. | 2022-12-09T12:16:43 | 2022-12-09T09:09:54 | 315 | 27 |
[WP] We've discovered a method to transfer sleep between people. Businesses arise where people sleep for other people.
I don't care if you write about a sleeper or a buyer. Go nuts! | I was going to kill myself. Then they came up with an alternative existence: sleep.
By law I have to be awake for two hours a day. The rest of the time I sleep, and I get paid for it. Originally I was hired by a big time executive to be his personal sleeper. He provided me with a nicely furnished room in his house. Inside the room there was the bed and the device itself. I would sleep for myself and for the executive. For two hours of each day I would spend my time around the house, exercising or eating to maintain some semblance of health.
At first the dreams were all mine, just long periods of bliss, escape from the world I was so ready to leave I almost killed myself just to achieve separation. It wasn't long before the side effects started to kick in. Nothing too bad physically, just migraines and the occasional constipation. The other side effect was something they called dream blending. When I used the device I was paired with him. I'd have his thoughts entering my mind while I slept. They were random and I had no way of navigating the dreams away from his subconscious.
At first I was uncomfortable with the change in dream scenery, but I got used to it after a while. In fact, I began to enjoy it. Dreams were now derived from two minds now. After some time I left that job and moved onto something newer and more exciting.
It was a small office, just a bed and one of the devices. Except now I wasn't sleeping for just one man, I was enjoying the dreams of different people at different times. One hour I'd be dreaming for a middle aged man on vacation, the next I would be a college kid cramming for a test. Dreams had left their creators and were divided among people like myself. This existence satisfied me for a time, but I was soon bored of normal people's dreams. I wanted more.
During one of my two hour breaks I decided to try out an idea that had manifested itself in one of my own dreams. I hooked up the device and its pair to myself and went to sleep.
I still haven't woken up. The device is now stuck in some sort of loop and it maintains this dream state. I don't know how long it's been in the real world, but I know I've been here for long enough. I want out. I want to be awake once again. | As I look over the ledger of clients for today, I shrug my shoulders. James Jenkins. All I know is that he's using my service to not need to sleep, and make himself indispensable in his office. But the last time I slept for him, he stiffed me.
"I just want to give it a trial period before I pay. That's within my rights, right?" After a conversation with my lawyer, I informed him that this was not the case. As with any good or service, he signed a contract, and he has to pay.
Oh he threatened to sue me, threatened to go to another sleeper. But for now, he's still signed on for four hours, and the contract says I have to provide him the service.
However, along with the sleep, dreams are transferred. This is a trade secret the sleepers never reveal to clients, for fear of chasing them off.
If Jenkins wants four hours of REM, he's going to have to deal with all the dreams that come from me eating sardines before bed. Maybe the dreams will be so bad that he'll up his contract to the full eight, and actually pay me. A sleeper can hope, can't she? | 2014-02-21T06:40:14 | 2014-02-21T04:03:12 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a world where nobody could die until they have carried out their purpose. You have done everything conceivable, but you're still alive after centuries.
EDIT: RIP my inbox. Thank you to those who submitted their writings, I enjoyed reading all of them! | I open my front door, and close it again. It still squeaks. I frown, and apply more lubricant to the hinge, and quickly open-and-close-and-open-and-close the door. It no longer squeaks. Contented, I sit back down at my breakfast table, and gaze out my apartment window at the skyline of Central City. It seems like only yesterday that I watched as this city was founded as a trading village for the Republic of Vallena. Ever since then, I've watched it grow and flourish and rise into the enormous hive of life and sound and motion that it is today. But I wish they had picked a more original name than "Central City". Oh well.
I sip my morning coffee, and gaze down at the youngsters making their way down the twisting city streets, striving, struggling, straining to find their purpose.
"If you don't find your purpose, you'll never get to rest!" It was the age-old adage that every child heard, but didn't necessarily heed. Some people lived very short lives, finding that their purpose in life was to improve the life of one specific person, or to invent this one specific thing, or lead a nation. They got to rest quite soon. I envy them.
The ones who got the difficult tasks, like founding a nation, or mending the rift between peoples, they lived a long time. I sympathize with them.
I sigh, stand up, pull on my black leather gloves, and fasten my wool coat's buttons. I pull on my driver's cap, and leave my apartment, locking the door behind me.
"Good morning, Mr. Fleming! How are you doing?" It was a new bellboy at the elevator today. The last one was only employed for a month. I guess it's to be expected. If you don't find that you're not accomplishing anything in a month, why bother banging your head against the wall instead of going into a different employment?
I nod to the bellboy.
"Ground floor, please."
"Absolutely, sir!"
I've watched a lot of people enter my life and leave. Maria, Martin, Cornelius, Petra, the list goes on and on. Each was a flame that burned differently. Some burned like magnesium, hot and bright for a short time, and others burned like embers, searching for years and years, only to realize that their reason to live was something they had been overlooking the whole time. Still others burned at a steady pace, slowly but surely accomplishing their mission, until they withered away, at peace with themselves and the world.
"Extra, extra, read all about it! People's Republic of Nitidus in talks with Mastod Leon in alliance against Vallena!" I take a newspaper from the young man, and tuck it under my arm as I make my way towards Central City's Central Park.
Whoever's purpose it was to name things in this place, they sure did a shoddy job at it.
I sit on a bench underneath the gray, cloudy sky, and unfold the newspaper. I discard every section into the wastebasket next to the bench until I see the Obituaries section.
Time to see what was accomplished last week.
Name | Purpose
---|---
Peter Athaliah | Diagnosing Reicha Ahtla with stage 4 melanoma
Selina Nairyosangha | Serving coffee for 10 years
Tryphon Vano | Reorganizing Central City's metro system
Ghulam Jeltsje | Creating Central Cinema
The list goes on and on. There are a lot more people than usual. I continue to read, watching friends and faces and families and lives and histories be reduced to nothing more than a name, and a purpose.
An hour passes.
I stand up, spooking the pigeons that gathered around the bench, hoping for food. I look towards the brooding clouds and sky, sigh, and shuffle back towards my apartment complex.
| 0 A.I. That date, was the start of our empire, our whole civilisation and modern life as we know it. Before that time each moment in our lives was a race against the cycle. Each moment a fight to survive against every other species that stalked the jungles, caves and oceans of our world. We lived and died, simply so that are off spring could do the same.
Then something changed. even now with all our technology we do not understand what happened. But some us were given a purpose. While others lived and died, those with purpose strove on, stumbling through life with no frowns or wrinkles; simply with an unnamed goal that would signal the clock to start ticking across their bodies again. These people served as are leaders, some even were worshiped as gods. But inevitably all them would discover their purpose and fall prey to the march of time once again. But not before their guidance led us to new prosperity and undeniable superiority.
But it is now 2467 A.I.
Our species has dominated this world, a shell of what it once was. The jungles, once lush across the land are now being fed to the furnaces to feed are technology; which itself only serves to give comfort to the masses, who have never felt hardship. Where once there was too little time, now we throw it away without thought or emotion. Where once we appreciated life through the filter of hardship, now we simply let our lives slip through are fingers like the sand our world has become.
How do I know all this, you say?
And I would answer “I’m a Historian”. But that is far more true than you would think, I’m known as “The Historian”. For I have watched, written and sometimes led my species from the moment I could write and talk. I was born on A.I 0. The first of the immortals. But I was born like any other child; I grew up like any other child. But while they grew old and died, I journeyed on. I cannot remember my mother's name, yet I can recall the place and time of any major event in the history of our empire. For that is my purpose, I am certain, to record the history of this civilisation.
But I grew tired with my people. they are wasteful, decadent and above all ungrateful to their ancestors; who bled, suffered and scratched a living from this once green land. Simply so that they could grow stagnant and complacent in their superiority!
I have not the patience to lead them once more, for I am weary with life. 2467 years of it, of dutifully recording every event, every moment, every day withered away. If my purpose is too record, then my purpose shall only be done once they are. For though I may not be able to kill myself, I may still kill them.
| 2016-05-25T05:02:11 | 2016-05-25T04:16:35 | 61 | 17 |
[WP] Invade the humans they said. It will be fun they said. They only have nuclear weapons, it will be easy they said. Those bastards failed to mention that the humans also bite. | The being limped into the healer's domatory. Limped is perhaps the wrong word: the Thulen dragged itself in. One tentacle was already turning black from necrosis, another missing entirely, and the other nine were all swollen with infection. Of it's seven eyes only one seemed functional. And, even more alarming for a Thulen, it was alone..
The Amboid healer moved quickly, catching the Thulen with a psuedopod as it fell. "Good Cosmos, what happened to you?"
The Thulen glared with its one good eye and burbled something unintelligible. The healer shuddered and administered a sedative, then carried the injured being over to the regeneration tank, dumping its patient in unceremoniously.
Four standard hectars later, the fully restored Thulen heaved itself from the tank. The healer looked up from the screen it was reading. "Feeling better?"
"Much. Thank you honored healer."
The Amboid shuddered a negation. "Tis my purpose. But I must ask, what could possibly do that to a species that ignores plasma fire?"
The Thulen grumbled something under it's breath.
"Say again?"
The Thulen looked like it was about to go into a rage, but paused, glancing upward for a moment, then looked back to the healer. "If ever anyone tells you that hunting a primitive species on their home planet is a good idea, ignore them. Only fusion bombs, bah."
The healer blinked. "A fusion bomb would be nothing more dangerous than a big meal to you."
"Yes healer, thank you for your insight into my species strengths," the Thulen spat back, then looked up and regained his self control. "The 'hoomins' of Sol 3 are not to be trifled with, real weapons or no."
"Humans? They're physically weak with no radeon based weaponry. The only think they have that could hurt you would be...I don't know. Perhaps some of their chemicals."
"Did you know their digestive processes start in their mouths. They produce a substance called 'slobber' apparently. And Thulen skin is very vulnerable to it."
"They....BIT you??"
"One of them did. It said something about something called calimari." | The Tardigians were a strange race. Born from a world extremely close to its star, they were beings of radiation. A race of gigantic unicellular organisms. Nuclear weapons do little to their tough cellular walls, light and heat may as well be a warm breeze on their skin.
But a nibble from an adorable mouse? Fatal. They pop like a balloon, their insides spilling out everywhere.
Evolution has a funny way of working. In exchange for their high resistance to radiation, they have evolved to become weak to physical damage. Against modern humans who have largely moved to plasma and laser weaponry, they have all but wiped out civilization itself. But the moment they encounter a native tribe, who still use arrows and spears, the battle barely lasted a day.
Thus a new world order emerged from the destruction of modern civilization, from the unlikely saviors who were the only ones who have the means and capability to fight back against the terrifying Tardigians.
Rednecks. | 2020-09-10T19:39:43 | 2020-09-10T18:54:41 | 2,595 | 434 |
[WP] God is found dead.
EDIT: Reading all of your responses now. Some of these are brilliant. | **This adapted / inspired from Asimov's [The last question](http://filer.case.edu/dts8/thelastq.htm)**
The year was approximately 2.41x10^13 . Man has long ago united in one conscience, a single united entity of pure information, omnipresent and almost omniscient. It has been searching for the completion brought by omniscience since it has united into Man, thousands of billions years ago, but not only of it's lust for information, the force which drove Human into becoming Man, but to satisfy another basic instinct which has been inherited from Human, stopping Death, which was to come as Entropy got closer and closer with each passing millenia. The fact that a Creator was involved in the apparition of the Universe Man inhabited was a certitude, but there were two pieces of information which were missing and made omniscience impossible for Man: How to stop Entropy and the location of The Creator. Knowing that The Creator is omniscient, Man has sought it through all the corners of the Universe, hoping that the Creator shall share the information of Entropy with it, thus saving Man and completing it's omniscience.
There were trails, footprints almost of The Creator all over the Universe, seeming almost intentionally left by The Creator, to be found by Man when it is ready and worthy of the meeting. That has made Man confident, a rudimentary artefact of the times of Human; but Man didn't bother with the guilt or worry which should be associated with that feeling. It sought in all corners, whereever the trails would lead, making all the connections necessary to find the correct exact location of The Creator. God, as Human named it.
Thoughts of the feeling of the completion of omniscience were racing through Man, and even the possibility of Man becoming a Creator was taking birth in it's thoughts.
At last. This is it. The place in the Universe where The Creator is located. Far, deep in the darkness and emptyness of an once crowded area, now just empty and barely having any traces of the stars which once were born, burned and died there.
And there it was. The Creator. The traces of The Creator, it's remains. It was now clear, The Creator was long dead, leaving behind only traces of it's presence, and a trail of information, confirming it's once glorious existence, and also confirming it's death. Man was confused for the first time in it's existence. It was clear that The Creator has wiped itself out of existence, on purpose, no last message for Man or any other entity which once lived in this Universe. And entropy was close. Man felt exhausted, defeated, and desolated. Omniscience has not been acquired and the missing piece of information is the one which was needed for Man's salvation.
As desperation was climbing it's way into Man's bundled thoughts, it realises the purpose of it's existance, it's true meaning. Man starts gathering all the matter around it, bringing the Universe together, squeezing all it's information and matter together, closing in to the critical point, Man's final thoughts being riddled with the feeling of Humanly joy thanks to the final achievement of omniscience. | The man gazed down, an empty expression lacing his face. Cars drove past him in the rain, occasionally splashing the back of his ankles. Multitudes of people swarmed up and down the sidewalk around him. He stood among them like a pebble defying the flow of a river. Every now and then a stranger brushed against him but he never lifted his eyes. Raindrops fell from the brim of his glasses down to the pavement below.
The flow of passers by was broken as businesswoman stepped towards the man. Her eyes fixated where his were already focused. She shuffled next to him, moving her umbrella so it would shelter both of them. Her voice was pressed with desperation as she looked upon the pavement. “Who did this?” The man remained silent. “What happened?” she pleaded but her questions weren’t met with an answer. The two stood still as the crowds continued past.
A schoolgirl pulled away from the current and approached the couple. She curiously glanced at the strangers and then lowered her sight to the ground. After a few moments passed, she looked back up at them with a look of confusion on her face. “Who is that?” The man didn’t speak. The businesswoman took it upon herself to explain. Her words were quiet, yet seemed to echo through the noise of the metropolis that surrounded them. “It’s God.”
The schoolgirl looked down and saw. She fell to her knees and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer but her prayers weren’t heard. The girl looked panicked as she stood up and looked around at the passing mob. “Help! Help! Please!” but the people wouldn’t be stopped. They couldn’t be stopped.
“We’re alone now.”
The girl and the businesswoman both looked up to the man. He briefly glanced up at them, turned, and walked away. He lowered his head and sank into the crowd.
| 2014-02-18T15:06:09 | 2014-02-18T14:57:09 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | Everyone thought it was a joke looking upon the site, a clever trick played by some bored devs ... right? Then they saw the timestamps and got worried, upon governments themselves (After a few higher up individuals having some very embarrassing things leaked about them) raided the supposed location and found nothing continuing to do this for months people were terrified. Some also took it to the extreme, seeing how many rules they could break out of spite, some becoming near saintly. Then the website started to have *Issues*
"What do you mean the sites gone down!" Bellowed across the marble and gold floors as it looked upon the priest
"We don't know, it just stopped working all of the sudden." He said bowing before the Lord.
"Well fix it, and get me a line to lucifer he keeps the servers clean so tell me what the *Hell* happened down there." He said as he sent off the priest adorning more formal attire
When he came upon the phone the techs were somehow more terrified. How they could be considering his equivalent to a second child being broken(Made to *try* and help his first.) He rushed over wondering what happened, only to come about to a dial-tone, seeing on the viewfinder only a hanging microphone, and a dismembered horn to meet him. As they all stood there a ragged, broken group of humans shambled into view. Shielding their eyes upon seeing him, as all those condemned would, then one of them beginning to chuckle as she moved towards the screen picking up the mic.
"See you soon." She smiled, taking the mic and crushing it before taking to the computers leaving them sightless as the screen cut out
=============================================================================
Hey y'all, first prompt fill on here so if you would like some more of this series or more, be sure to go over and check out r/CaoCreatives | I search my name.
Shit.
It’s there.
My name is there. In bright red, my name is plainly written across the screen.
Now everyone can know that I killed her.
I killed her.
*I KILLED HER.*
My hands are shaking. This can’t be real. No. No. No. no.
I’m shaking and crying and breaking down.
NO!
I will spend an eternity in hell.
Great.
GREAT.
I can’t think I can’t breathe I can’t live I can’t see I can’t speak. I can’t.
I can’t live.
I CAN’T LIVE! | 2020-02-29T22:29:01 | 2020-02-29T20:52:03 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The world's greatest villain and hero clearly like each other. His monologues when she's captured tend to turn to conversation, and she "accidentally" lets him escape arrest. While they're convinced they're enemies, his henchman and her sidekick are just trying to get them together already. | “C’mon, Jo,” he was saying, exasperated. “This is the third time this month he’s gotten away when you were supposed to be watching. You’re not that incompetent, and he’s definitely not that smart.”
The heroine known to most of the city as Lady Fate scowled. “He’s not my arch-nemesis for nothing, James,” she said stubbornly.
“Has he been getting inside your head? Is this some sort of Joker-Batman, Superman-Lex Luthor, you’d-be-nothing-if-you-didn’t-have-me-to-stop kind of thing?” her sidekick, Kid Quick, begged. “Help me out here, Jo. We’re going to get in trouble with the Super Register if we can’t get a handle on this!”
Lady Fate’s face softened slightly. “It’s not that. He’s not in my head, I wouldn’t let him get to me like that.”
Kid Quick did not look convinced. “Well, it’s *something*,” he grumbled. “What were you guys chatting about when I showed up? That sounded awful casual for the usual monologue.”
“It was more of a conversation, honestly,” Lady Fate admitted. “I get the feeling he doesn’t get that often.”
“That’s so *pathetic*,” Kid Quick snorted. “What, he comes up with evil schemes just to *talk* to you--” He broke off at the light flush that was rising on his partner’s cheeks. *Aw, hell,* he thought.
Meanwhile, in an underground base about two and a quarter miles outside of the city, a similar conversation was taking place.
“If you will pardon my insubordination, sir, I know for a fact that it does not take two hours for the ray to charge and vaporise half of the city as we discussed previously. Were you in need of assistance? You seemed to indicate that you were capable of handling Lady Fate and the operation of the ray on your own -- was I mistaken?” The cyborg was spitting mad, as made clear by her clipped tone and icy glare.
Coincidence, Master of Chaos, supervisor of the Dark Dimensions, and generally acknowledged top baddie in the city, cringed away from his henchwoman’s anger. *I was… distracted*.
“Clearly,” Libra snapped, her cybernetic eyes glowing bright blue.
*She listens*, he replied, somewhat defensively. He shouldn’t have to explain himself! He was one of the Seven Lords of Darkness, for crying out loud! *And the more I come to understand of her, the more easily she will be defeated in the future*.
“But you do not ever do anything that will actually defeat her!” Libra shouted back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then she calmed a little. “Though she does let you go on a fairly regular basis as well.”
*Let me… go? I escape*, Coincidence said slowly.
Libra gave him a flat look. “She intentionally gives you an open avenue of egress -- my analyses of the last three of your escapes have turned up that much.” She chuckled humourlessly. “Perhaps our Lady Fate is equally *distracted* by you.”
Coincidence considered this for just a moment too long, and Libra’s jaw dropped.
“You have got to be joking.” | "You know you could stop this."
"Stop what?"
"Being a villain. I, uh, I know you're a good guy."
"Hmm, I could ask you to do the same."
"Same?"
Terry kept silent, he ate the last piece of pie in his plate.
"How are our roles same?" asked Cassie.
"Here we go."
"No, really. Tell me."
"This is why it's a bad idea for us to be dating."
Cassie looked away, her face dulled.
"I'll see you around." He stood paused at the table looking at her.
Then Terry went to the desk, paid the bill and left the diner.
Cassie got up after a few minutes.
"Uh, ma'am. He didn't pay for yours," said the waiter who came to her as soon as she got up.
Cassie sighed. "Of course, he didn't."
Snow falls. It's been dark for some time. The sidekicks of Lady Knight and Doomclaw, Nightscout and Mary Mayhem observe on the rooftop of a building opposite to the diner.
"This was a mistake Steph, it doesn't look like they like eachother."
"I don't know— should we tell them about us?"
"And make them ground us?"
"Fair enough."
"Let's see how this goes."
"Yeah."
"Hey, uh, wanna go for some snack, I know a place where they make really good hot—"
"I know where I'll wake up the next morning Greg," Mary Mayhem's phone rang. "It's him, I'll see you tomorrow." Stephanie flew away.
"Hey, wait—"
Lady Knight called Nightscout momentarily, "I know you've been watching me, Nightscout. Who's your friend?"
"What do you mean? I, uh, am—"
"Save it, now come down we have a job to do."
"Yeah, um, okay boss. So how did you know?"
"I trained you. That's how."
"Righto."
The world's greatest hero Lady Knight and the most notorious villain Doomclaw are going to see each other again tonight as enemies for the umpteenth time.
r/FleetingScripts | 2020-11-07T00:52:59 | 2020-11-06T23:30:27 | 135 | 77 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | "Looks like you picked up the wrong guy... This is nothing compared to Afghanistan...," he chuckled, seemingly to himself.
The three that called themselves the Sylph Clan Chiefs recoiled in shock at how completely unphased their prisoner was. "These fates befall all who will not kneel before out might!," they bellowed. "Surely they will befall your planet if you do not bow!"
His captors had been showing Corporal Garrett Charlotte videos of mangled bodies, and burning cities. Hardly any more graphic than what he saw in combat.
"Guys... these are just videos from liveleak... how did you even get access to the internet out here? You know what ... It doesn't matter. I just want to finish my dinner and get back to the station before my ship leaves.. if I miss this jump it's seven more cycles until I can catch the next one, and my wife will kill me.."
"Is she the ruler of your world?" The scrawny one asked, its voice waivering. It looked like a bird without feathers? Kinda human mixed with a lizard? Garrett couldn't put his finger on it...
"Yeah, I guess you could say that.," Garrett said with a wry grin. "Why do you ask, anyways?"
"Well, from my limited knowledge of your language, wife means you have joined... What is the word?... Houses? If that is true, the she wields the same power as the king! You are the king of Earth, are you not?". It asked demandingly.
"What!? King? What gave you the idea I was the King of the Wo-....... Oh.... Oooooooh!". Garrett began laughing. More than he had in a long time. Deep belly laughing. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, he cleared his throat, and composed himself. "You mean my shirt?"
The three nodded emphatically.
"It's from a movie called Titanic." | "We have shown them The Horrors, Dread Masters."
*what IS the harvest?*
"Zero, Dread Masters. None were broken by the Truth."
*impossible*
"They said, "You showed us yours, we'll show you ours" and handed us this image archive. It is identified only with the second letter in their common literary symbols, and they indicated it was for "Chan". We offer it to you, Dread Masters."
*we shall peruse this- what? oh? OH? OHOHOHOHOHOHO!*
*communicate our pleasure at finally finding a species that truly understands the universe as we see it.*
*and get me another. the moist cloacas are gonna love this bit with the two cups.* | 2019-06-11T15:47:00 | 2019-06-11T11:15:08 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Yesterday we received The message from aliens who learned English by intercepting Xbox transmissions. You have been tasked with providing a response to it.
Here is the original, unedited message (top comment) from /u/ChokingVictim:
Greetings, faggots: My name is xXSwaGGy-Quarlax [FaZe], Interplanetary Diplomat for the Andromeda Galaxy. I would like to begin this message by assuring you that I am not a camping faggot, nor will my people attempt to quick scope you. Although we have amassed many 360 no scopes throughout our collective lives, we come with a message of peace. I hope to make clear that this is a knife-only match and we will not be attempting any faggotry, nor will we feed mid. We wish only to share our swag amongst your people, you fucking aim botting hackers. My clan and I have traveled many millions of light years in search of sentient life, visiting thousands of planets in an attempt to make contact and find the dankest kush. While we have been forced to pwn many noobs and fuck countless mothers on several of those worlds, reking their shit harder than a Haitian Earthquake, we only did so out of self-preservation. None of those planets held any life beyond the hostile and untamable, nor any blunts to blaze upon. It was truly us against them; however, we wish to make it clear that we do have blood on our hands. We, as an intergalactic species, understand that trust is founded upon honesty, and thus tell you retard hackers of our former faggotry. That said, we assure you that your obese, apartment dwelling neckbeards will stand safely beside us and shall never be shrekt. We first located your planet nearly six Earth years ago and have been monitoring your communication devices, which you call “X-Box,” to learn your jargon and construct our message of peace. We hope that you understand our dialect and not see us as pay 2 win feeders. In order to further express our good faith, we have amassed a large collection of Code Red Mountain Dew and Cool Ranch Doritos, which we would like to share with your MLG pros. We hope you accept our offering in peace, and that you not fuck our mothers. We wish only to become allies with you, the faggot tryhards of Earth. Please find us waiting for you at your trailer park tomorrow at sunrise. We will be in the large flying aircraft, which should be just a few pounds lighter than that of your mother's left tit.
Ayy lmao,
xXSwaGGy-Quarlax [FaZe]
Original post here:
http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/31bvbr/wp_for_years_an_alien_race_has_been_intercepting/ | What the fuck did you just fucking say about Earth, you little bitch? I’ll have you know we graduated top of our section in the Interstellar Defense Academy, and we’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on the B’tvk, and have over 300 confirmed total planetary annihilations. We have trained gorillas in warfare and have the top plasma-drive pilots in the entire Orion arm. You are nothing to us but just another species to exterminate. We will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this galaxy, mark our fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to us over X-Box Live? Think again, fuckers. As we speak we are contacting our secret network of mercenaries across the galaxy and your space-time coordinates are being traced right now so you better prepare for the oncoming storm, faggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, xXSwaGGy-Quarlax [FaZe]. We can be anywhere, anytime, and kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with our genetically enhanced bear hands. Not only are us humans extensively trained in unarmed combat, but we have access to the entire arsenal of the COD Ghost Ops recon squads and we will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of our solar system, you little shits. If only you could have known what dank retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiots. We will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, noob.
Memes, xXx_dAnkwEEd420_xXx
P.S. Nobody likes cool ranch. Nacho cheese is where it’s at. | Hello xXSwaGGy-Quarles [FaZe].
It appears you have intercepted transmissions from the lower class of our population. Their idiosyncratic ways have caused your efforts to be nil and communication to be difficult.
We hope you may adapt to our proper form of writing and speaking manner so as to establish proper contact.
PS: We enjoyed the new ray guns.
Translation:
Yo, homies be talking shit bro. Us niggas be all swaggy up in this bitch. Scrubs be spewin shit that ain't swiggy.
Real talk, we need to get wif da times.
By the by, dem rays be dank bro. | 2015-04-04T17:06:51 | 2015-04-04T11:57:37 | 49 | 34 |
[WP] You're the Evil Twin ready to replace and take over your Good Twin's life. But the more you learn about your twin's life, you begin to suspect that they may in fact be the evil twin. | Jealousy is the only emotion I've ever known.
When I was born, my parents carried me to the western cliffs of our village. They lived on an island somewhere far from the rest of humanity. I was only five minutes old but I remember everything perfectly. The sun was setting in blood reds across the horizon. Spidery shadows clawed along the ageing grass. Somewhere beyond my mother's hands, my tiny bones could feel the ocean humming and falling. My mother, dressed in a sheepskin dress, cursed at me over and over. My father stood a few paces away, his back to us, staring at the lonely farm houses that comprised our village. Crows wheeled above us, cawing in uneven rhythms.
'Don't blame me for this,' my mother cried, holding me as far away from her as possible, 'Blame yourself for being born into this world.'
She tossed me over the cliff. The last thing I remember seeing was my twin sister, being held safely in my father's left arm. As if frozen in time, my newborn sister smiled at me and waved. Then my whole world zoomed away in a free-fall that has continued ever since.
By some otherworldly luck, I did survive that fall. I washed ashore near a forest and began life as a feral animal. It was a pitiful existence. Several years passed.
When I was 9, I took up residence in a library cellar and learned how to read. It was there that I began reading encyclopedias and uncovering the truth. I was an evil twin. A creature meant to burn with jealousy until I took everything away from my better half. Without ever getting a say in the matter, my life had been decided for me. Something about that unfairness only made me more jealous of my twin. Why did my mother throw me away just because I was born? Holding the encyclopedias close to me, I cried in the musty dark and imagined happy scenarios where I was the good twin, I was the chosen one.
15 years later, after careful studies of maps and rigorous attention to rumors, I arrived back at my home town--the same lonely farm village at the edge of human settlement. Somehow, I knew the way to our house. I walked along the cobbled paths, past the grazing cows, over the rolling fields of rotting sunflowers. I knocked on my family's door.
My twin answered.
'Hello?' she said, standing in the doorway.
I stared at a mirror image of myself. I never realized I had such deep-set eyes and wispy hair.
'You stole my life,' I said.
'What are you talkin--'
'You had everything,' I said, walking closer.
She tried to close the door but I lunged forward and grabbed her collar.
'This is my answer to that unfairness.'
I stabbed her belly with a knife and gagged her mouth with a sock to muffle the screams. I dug the knife left and right and clamped her face until her eyes rolled back and the cascading blood began to slow.
'Honey? Who's there?' a male voice called from the dining room.
'Ah, no one, just a lost traveler,' I said in my own voice. Without even cleaning the mess, I walked into the dining room and smiled.
'Hi honey,' I said, 'what's for dinner?'
'Oh it's your favorite,' he laughed, setting down his newspaper. 'You remember that mailman from the main continent who forgot our package? Well I taught him a lesson. I made some express lasagna. Ha ha ha.'
My twin's husband opened the platter in the middle of the table. After several seconds of study, I realized that I wasn't looking at lasagna. It was red and bumpy and smelled like meat, but it wasn't lasagna.
'I don't understand,' I said. 'Where's the home-cooked meal with fresh ingredients and fun conversations . . . ?'
Her husband, my husband, furrowed his eyebrows.
'Well, this was your idea wasn't it? Ever since you tricked your parents and took over the village, the slaves have been getting a bit too antsy and smart. The usual punishment wasn't cutting it, but cannibalism did well, right? So here we are.'
'Right,' I said.
Then,
I fell down to my knees in that dining room and laughed hysterically for what seemed like a lifetime. | I don't even know anymore.
Everyday, I imagine myself being in her place, surrounded by a loving family, hanging out with friends, dancing on the majestic ball room gifted to her. And everyday, I studied everything about her. Her habits, her schedules, her mannerism. I even sneak into her rooms to try her clothes, to make sure I am not too fat nor too slim. I've listen to what she listen, I watch what she watch.
But as I did, I've come to realized who she really is.
The first flag was erected last month when I checked her internet history. Usually it's just a bunch of websites for knitting and stuff. That day, she might have forgotten to turn on incognito mode. In places of knitting websites, there was a series of Amazon pages revolving hardware. This come as a shock to me. All the time I've watched her, I have never seen her being into woodwork. I kept that fact in mind for future references but since then, it has never come up anymore.
The second flag was when I caught her near my neighborhood. This was after hour, where I would be at my foster parents's bar, where I would be forced to serve people while they play cards. It just so happened that we ran out of peanuts that they sent me out to get some. Then I saw her, in a car with a man I have never seen. Since then, I've been trying to make some excuses to get out of the bar, just so I can see what she was doing.
The final flag was when I've visited her room this morning. I decided to take a bit of risk. I made sure she was out first and then sneaked in and put on her clothes. This is where I train myself to get used to the house and its occupants. Today however, I decided to get to know more about my twin's double life.
I went into the ball room and approached the statue of Venus at the end of the hall. I knew that my twin would lean to it whenever she's tired of dancing. I had a bit of hope that it might have some clues to what my twin has been doing all this time.
I got more than I bargained for.
It all happened so fast. First, I found a passage at the statue's foundation that lead to an underground room. I was an idiot, I shouldn't have risked myself going in. I ended up inside, finding myself in some kind of a dungeon. Brick walls and all. There were even chains in there, although those seems new. As my attention was focused on registering the environments I was in, I didn't realize the presence behind my back until I felt the stinging sensation of electricity by my neck. When I woke up, I found myself butt naked in the dark, with only the chains as my company.
That and a note in my palm.
'*The funny thing about watching others is thinking that it makes us invisible. I hoped you had fun getting to know me as I had with you. But I'm afraid there can only be one.'*
As my life slowly seeped out of me, I've wondered what a joker God is. | 2020-03-20T22:33:06 | 2020-03-20T20:57:39 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | "Your world will burn until it's surface is but glass." That was the message that Gabriel was forced to deliver, the response to hundreds upon thousands of deaths, both human and alien.
The war never ended. There was constant fighting on the fringes of human controlled space, many learned to live underground, still more, learned that at least the alien capital ships brought death quickly.
It was long, bloody. The enemies demonized in the eyes of the public back at the core worlds, Until a surprise attack wiped out a chunk of the Jovian population near Pluto and Uranus. The remains of the hab-stations a horrific metal tomb for the thousands that resided in all six of them. The strike was intended as a message. "We can hit you anywhere" it said.
Gabriel was about to show them why you don't put humanity in such a cornered position.
"Is this some kind of joke? Do you mean to poke at us with those useless ballistic weapons if yours?" Came the snickering response from the vulpine on the other side of the view screen.
"Ensign... Signal all ships to decloak and begin operation exterminatus." Gabriel would shift ever so slightly. Exterminatus, and old earthian term. Came from a game that would be played some 40 thousand years ago. But the devastation that was about to follow would more then meet the meaning behind the term.
Several ships would decloak above the planet, each the size of a small cruiser. And from each, a fighter sized payload was released, rocketing towards the surface rather innocently. The vulpine on the other end of the comlink would laugh, as the reports would come in. But those mirthful eyes would soon shine bright with alarm as he raced over to what could be assumed was the sensor's position, looking over the data.
What they had thought were small fighters, were in fact, fighter sized nuclear bombs. And each of those bombs would explode in a major city, wiping out the population in mere seconds. The shock, and the horror felt by the crew on the other side was palpable. As quick sensor sweeps were done of various locations to return what can only be assumed as total destruction. But Gabriel wasn't done. Oh no, no. Feeding on the shock and horror, he'd gain some confidence. A measure of satisfaction that this time, this time they knew the humans were serious, and this war wasn't in the kiddie pool any longer.
"Fire the second salvo, aim for farmlands, and water supplies. The next targets will be minor population centers. If anything is left after that, let the radiation, and the coming nuclear winter finish them off. We're done here." Gabriel would command, turning back to head towards his ready room. "Oh, and Captain?"
The enemy would shift his attention back towards the screen, steadying himself on the nearest bulkhead as he tried to maintain some measure of composure, but in the end, looking quite pitiful. Barely able to keep himself up on jello knees, and tears streaming down his face he stood, broken, but still somewhat defiant. "Wha-" the fox would cough, his voice having cracked as he spoke "What is it that you want, demon?"
"Dont bother collecting the remains of your family. There wont be anything left, at least... Nothing that's discernible. Lieutenant, Come about and end communication." The screen would flicker and go dark, replacing itself with the emptiness of space against a burning world. "All ships that have released their payloads are to FTL out of the system and make for home with all speed. I must contact the admiralty on Korhal station. Today marks the beginning of the end of this war. | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T02:10:50 | 431 | 205 |
[WP] You are a superhero who keeps his identities private, even your sidekick doesn't know your normal identity. Today you come home to find your wife in bed with your sidekick. | I opened the door a crack, not wanting to wake anyone by flicking on the light. A shaft of warm light from the hall cast a soft glow on the bed, Her bouncy red curls were frizzed all about the pillow as usual, a soft smile curving her lips as she dreamed.
I sighed a little as I leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized by her face, and not for the first time. I felt my gaze track a well traveled path from feature to feature. The gentle slope of her nose, to her slightly parted lips rising back up to her soft cheekbones and-
Something was *off*. A slight motion caught my eye and I felt myself frown as I spotted another head nestled against her chest. The fingers of one of her hands were splayed against his scalp, carded through his hair, the glint of her wedding band catching the light just so.
And what a familiar head it was.
I'd seen it just that evening, the untameable brown hair parted by a goofy looking mask that obscured the kid's identity well enough.
Well, from just about everyone else. I knew very well who was laying in bed with my wife.
A warm blaze of emotion sparked in my chest and coursed through me as I ambled forwards, taking care not to wake the two as I approached. Unluckily, superpowers or no, there was nothing I'd ever managed to sneak past Jenny.
Her eyes flickered to wakefulness, recognition dawning immediately before she smiled softly and waved her fingers as much as she could without waking her companion. "*Hey*." She breathed.
My heart lightened and I felt myself smile even as I edged towards the bed. "*Hey.*" I repeated, ruffling that brown hair a little before entwining my fingers with her own. "I take it the little man isn't handling the pressure well?"
She smiled as her head shook, eyes filled with nothing but love as she cradled him a little closer. *But, god, she was so much more beautiful when she was awake. The kindness and warmth in her eyes...in her smile. How did I get so lucky?*
"Nightmare?"
She nodded. "He's scared he'll mess up so completely that you won't want him as your sidekick anymore."
I couldn't help the chuckle that i let out into the air between us. "From day one?"
She squeezed my fingers between her own a little, something in her manner telling me how seriously the little tyke was taking his freshly appointed role. "You're his hero, David."
I nodded and aimed my Ultiman smile at her, watching her head shake in exasperation. "Then I won't let him down."
Her warm smile returned as she nodded, appeased by my assurance. "You better not."
I nodded absently, eager to get myself some shuteye. "Room for a third in that little spaceship?"
She cuddled our son closer as she gestured behind her. "You're the big spoon."
I didn't hesitate to claim my place, squeezing in behind her and wrapping a large arm around them both. This...this is what it has always been about. | Everyone has their day, you know? The day that makes or breaks them. Where it's all put in focus and you got to decide what really matters.
Today was my day, I suppose.
It was going completely normal: I got up, cooked breakfast for the kids, got them on their way to school, did breakfast for myself and... her. She... she helped me get my suit together and even packed a lunch while I shaved. Told her I'd give a call around lunch. And I did! But... Scorcher decided to steal from Kay's in Midtown and fires were spreading... and... maybe that was the first mistake? Maybe I made that mistake a long time ago. She had something she wanted to tell me and I hung up on her.
How many times had I done that previously?
But then I finished work and was headed home and Dr. Kinetic was holding up City Hall. I tried to clean up fast but... Sparrow, my sidekick, she wasn't there. That was unusual, but I figured she was held up in classes. I was late for dinner. And then I remembered it *wasn't* a normal day. Today was our anniversary. There were... there were candles on the table. She'd left my dinner on the table.
And then there were the noises.
I suppose I deserve it: my wife and sidekick both betraying me at the same time. Sparrow -- Clara -- shouted that it wasn't what it looked like, but my wife just started laughing. Said I deserved it, that I couldn't even remember her on our anniversary. How was she supposed to know I'd actually come home this time instead of staying with my own lover?
I've never been with anyone but her.
I suppose I got lucky that I wasn't in my super outfit and it was safe in hideout. Is it really lucky when your own habits protect you?
I suppose they'll be happy with each other, wherever they go from here.
As for me? I guess I know what my priorities are now. | 2022-03-23T10:59:45 | 2022-03-23T09:44:16 | 421 | 232 |
[WP] "Son, it's time to tell you about the birds and the bees. They're everywhere. They rule the skies. Here's a gun." | On the island of Miragulku, the groundhogs, who are called Miragupp, live in a burrow underground. The Burrow is an incredible sprawling lattice of caves and tunnels, supported by marble pillars carved with images of ancient Miragupp heroes and kings. The Burrow receives light in two ways. At night, it is illuminated by endless rows of kerosene braziers, each dutifully lit by one of the schoolgirls after being dismissed from class. During the day, sunlight penetrates through the Sacred Skylight in the ceiling of Gupp Hall, and is then reflected off twelve thousand mirrors all over the Burrow, carefully angled to brighten every crevasse of the market and school and barracks and courthouse, and to nourish the many gardens of turnips and mushrooms that are so essential to feeding the community.
The reason the Miragupp live underground is due to the fact that the island to which they are native is also populated by two other intelligent races: the Mirayik, who are bumblebees that rule the trees, and the Mirathae, who most closely resemble the kestrel, and whose dominion is the cliff. Though certain legends and well known songs tell of a time when the three races of Miragulku lived in harmony, this is a lie, as the Burrow, the Hive, and the Nest have almost always been at war in one way or another over extremely complicated ancient debts and blood feuds. In fact, the reason the groundhogs built their home underground in the first place was as a line of defense against their airborne enemies.
Due to the precarious nature of their community, Miragupp culture largely revolves around the warrior class. When they come of age, the young male groundhogs, with their new long claws and strong front teeth, are invited by their fathers to scale the walls of Gupp Hall, reach the Sacred Skylight for the first time, and poke their head above the soil, seeing the grass and sand and tasting the salty, fresh air. Each father then tells his son that he must complete a rite of passage to be embraced by the groundhogs as a full citizen of the Burrow: he must go out, onto the surface, and he must kill either five bumblebees or one kestrel. To complete this task, he is given a shield, a net, and either a .45 caliber revolver or a lever action 12 gauge shotgun, forged by the world famous Miragupp gunsmiths.
The young Miragupp then climb out of the Sacred Skylight and quickly scurry to hide themselves in the bushes (though which are sometimes rigged with venom canisters by the Mirayik). If a Miragupp is too slow, he is liable to get snatched up by the sharp talons of a swooping Mirathae, who will then taunt him, usually by shouting cruel racial epithets, as he carries the wriggling rodent back to the Nest. However, if a Miragupp is careful, he can usually find a long enough break in the air patrols to dig out a small trench for himself and a few friends, where they can wait until they have a chance to fire a carefully timed shot at their enemies. In the end, not all groundhogs return to the Burrow, but those who do are greeted as champions, receiving gifts of ginger root, dandelions, and offers of marriage from the fathers of Miragupp maidens.
While it is assumed that any groundhog who does not return has been killed or captured, this is not always the case. Sometimes, as a groundhog and bumblebee and kestrel swipe and spit venom and fire at each other, they will suddenly make eye contact. "Before today, did you know I was your enemy?" one of the Mirae will ask, and of course, both of his combatants will say they did not. Sometimes, an especially brave groundhog will throw down his gun, prompting the bumblebees to drop their venom darts and the kestrel to fold up his wings. The various Mirae will catch their breath and then look out across the horizon, past the white sand of Miragulku Beach, and there they will see another island, not too far in the distance. They will agree that this distant island represents a kind of hope that the idea of murdering each other never could. The kestrel will pick up the groundhog, though very gently, and it will lead the bumblebees across the water, to make a new home, together, and in peace. | The world was four walls. The world was one room with shelves of cans and a small kitchenette and a bathroom behind a curtain. We had solar lamps for our vitamin D, but I had never seen the sun. It was all I knew.
I never thought to ask why we were in the bunker, because I had no sense of there being anything else. Every book my father read to me as a child was a fantasy story, of worlds unimaginable. At some point, when I was around five, my father explained about the oxygen levels, how over time they increased and increased to the point where the smallest of animals could grow to huge sizes.
"God damned liberals," he'd say. "Made us stop using oil. Got us onto electric everything. Now what? Most of them got eaten and the rest of us are all living underground, shitting in buckets!"
I nodded like I understood, but I rarely did.
There came a day, years later, when the cans were nearly gone and my father was sick, and close to death. He drew me close and said, "When me and the cans are gone, you're going to have to go outside. And I have to prepare you. Son, it's time to tell you about the birds and the bees." These words were foreign. In the past, he only spoke generally of animals before. I imagined "animals" as some kind of amorphous blob that covered the surface above and made it impossible for us to go up.
My father was sweating and he lay back on the pillow. "They're everywhere," he moaned. "They rule the skies." The fever was to take him soon. His eyes shot open. He seemed to summon his strength and reached under the bed and pulled out the forbidden box. "Here's a gun," he said.
He taught me quickly how to point and shoot. He told me to use it only as a last resort. The birds wouldn't go down easy, and the bees would swarm if challenged. But there were so many other threats. Ants. Wolves. Big cats.
"Be silent. Be careful. Don't let them see you. Find something to eat... Find safety." He gave me an old guide to animals and insects. His last words were, "Ignore the parts of the book where they talk about how big they are."
The cans ran out shortly after he died.
I climbed the ladder up to the hatch with shaking hands. I was terrified, but some part of me was also thrilled to finally see the land above.
I couldn't believe how green it all was. Huge trees. Tall grass. Things I had only heard about were everywhere around me. My heart beat so hard I felt sure any nearby animal would be able to hear me. The air smelled so sweet and I longed to run without stopping and see all the world had to offer, but I knew this world was not my playground. It was a dangerous place, inhabited by things that wanted to kill me. The gun felt flimsy in my hand.
I took only a single step and found my salvation. An apple so big it wouldn't have fit in our biggest pot down below. My first day above, that was as far as I trekked. I slinked back down into my hole with the apple. I had to play things smart. Only go as far as I absolutely had to to find food.
... | 2017-01-27T17:28:26 | 2017-01-27T17:24:14 | 195 | 37 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | Calvin Hearst hurried into the deep core of his main lair pulling off his shirt even as one of his Furies brought him his trench coat and mask.
"I want answers. What happened?"
Fleur turns back from a monitor. "A high school freshman posted video of a dust-up last night. We had some men gathering gear Hephaestus wanted. Flame Ray showed up and got into a scuffle with Conundrum. Everyone got away and we got partial loot. But the girl put out that Dana was Flame Ray."
Settling his mask in place the Leaguer glanced at the feeds across the city. "She posted that Dana was Flame Ray? Idiot, so where are the Sin Eaters?"
"That's the bad news. They hit her school a minute after we warned her about the leak. Sir she costumed up in public and is now the only thing between them and the school populous. Police and the Guardians are responding. . ."
"Conundrum lives outside the usual patrol range for ESwat. Flame Ray is the only Guardian to get there fast enough and she is too new to know not to go after Conundrum instead of teaming with her. Get me a line to Snow Fox."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Rushing to the costume changer the older man traded his business suit for the white and blue costume of the Snow Fox. Three minutes since news came that a school was under attack and the only one in range to slow the mass murderers was a C class villain. Rounding the corner as he raced to the Shield cruiser his comms pinged.
"Good day governor, I would love to chat but there is an emergency."
"We both agree there Fox. But I am not the governor and don't have time to explain getting into your network. I need you to set the computer controls to level blue on your carrier."
"Leaguer? Why should I do that, one of yours is there and the computer is too slow."
"Hephaestus is launching boosters for your craft but we need the computer synch to get you there on time. Snow Fox, you know me, you know my organization. We steal, we pose. We do not kill. You are the only one with enough experience to control the Sin Eaters that they can be stopped without a huge death toll and. . ."
"And? Out with it Leaguer. What is it that has you so afraid?"
"Conundrum. She is young and has never had to take a life. If you don't get there in time. She may have to in order to save others. . ."
Reaching the flyer and dropping to the command seat the hero looks to the controls before hitting the computer guidance. "Level Blue set. But after this you will explain how you have compatible boosters to our gear."
"Thank you old friend. And I can answer now. Who do you think got you the tech for your whole operation?" | I am practicing songwriting. So here is a musical theater piece on a villain that clearly out-matches his adversaries. It's a comedy song
Nothing irks me quite like knowing that they'll never see my pity
Nothing rattles me to shame to think they've really done their best
It's not enough to pest this city
And with every passing tick you'd think it can't get any clearer
The maze he's yet to clear, the bomb is ticking ever nearer
He's still caught up in the mirror
Wonder-man, I'm dying to know
How that's ever gonna make a dent
But it's pretty strong as lasers go
(Clicks around security monitor)
Now let's check up on the Wingman, has he bolted through the glass?
I'd say last time was near perfect, I even called the head adjuster
(See human figure dangling from a suspension cable)
Guess he forgot the rocket thruster
(Cable snaps)
. . Boots . .
(Movement from the ceiling)
And then let's not forget Ms. Amazoness up above
Who lost count which lefts to take, I had to turn the heat to two
The things I do for love
Hey you Bruce, up in that vent
I'd like to warm up, progress the show
And quit stomping man, I rent!
All sides undone,
Hands coiling fast,
Will you have time to pray
Or have they failed you too
Reaching for words some
Can make their spirits last
But I won't let this day
Save me in any way
If anyone would come
Remind me what it is
That made a villain fun
That made a tyrant rage
I'm walking off the stage,
The bomb's defused, good night | 2021-05-20T09:07:51 | 2021-05-20T07:57:21 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] You are deep sea fishing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Your hook snags something big and heavy. You pull it up to find a a coffin covered in rusted chains, you break the lock and open it. A person steps out, coughing gallons of water, and asks “What year is it” | It was late at night me and my crew were about to head back into the harbour. we had been fishing all night with no luck but right as we were about to throw in the towel something was caught, something large and heavy. we pulled it out of the water and found out that it was an ornate coffin like something a rich person from 1800s england would be buried in.
Grasped by morbid curiosity we put the coffin on the deck and took a better look. There was a metal lock that had the name "DIO" engraved in gold on it.
"grab the crowbar lets open this sucker" I yelled to the crew
It could have gold or other riches but it was likely just an empty coffin. Or it even may have a dead body inside. Before he could consider the ethics of opening this coffin a crewman brought back the cutters.
The lock didnt hold the box closed very well, likely to corrosion from the sea. He opened the coffin to find a body, at first he was sickened by the fact that he had just defiled a dead person for the potential of money but then he saw that it was in near perfect condition as if it had died yesterday. Its clothes were rather singed which was also really odd. Why would a dead body of someone of seemingly high wealth be wearing singed clothes?
Then it moved. One eye opened followed by the other. It then sat up expelling water from its mouth without even coughing slightly. Calmly it asked:
"what year is it?"
"N-ninteen eighty seven" I responded rather shakily
"is that so?" it simply replied
Suddenly with movements quicker that humanly possible the thing jumped at me shoving its fingers in my neck. As its fingers plunged into my neck it made a "WRYYYYYYYYYYY" sounding noise. my crewmen were fast to respond pulling out their pistols and shooting it...
To no effect! It didnt even flinch! It was so close that I now noticed it had elongated teeth and a rather bizzare scar all around its neck.
"Useless Useless Useless Useless!" it exclaimed
"Y-YOUR A VAMPIRE!" I squealed as I felt all my blood draining from my body.
"Nothing like human blood after a 100 year nap eh Jonathan?" it said seemingly to itself. I then saw its body vibrate as if in response and then everything faded into black. | A man staggered out of the coffin, making his way to the side of the boat. He heaved over the side, not an unusual sight for a newcomer on the boat.
It was a coffin coming out of the Mid-Atlantic, wrapped in chains, filled with water and a living being that was unusual.
After emptying his lungs of water, he turned back.
"What year is it?"
"Huh?"
"What year is it?" he asked again, in perfect English.
"Ummm, twenty twenty."
"No. What day?"
I blinked. What day was it? We had left port six days ago, and that was the sixth. That made today...
"Its the twelfth."
"Of..."
"Ummm, July."
The man's face lifted. "There is still time to prevent the worst of it. There is a Falcon Heavy being prepared for launch. We need to commandeer it."
"I'm sorry what?"
"We must prevent the prophecy. Let's go."
"Ummm...." I sputtered as I watched as the man spun around, realizing where he was.
"Quickly, we must return to land. We should be close to Atlantis."
"Atlantis. What!?"
****
More stories at /r/JohnGarrigan | 2020-07-18T14:54:28 | 2020-07-18T14:09:39 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You're the clichéd high-school super hero who has to balance heroics and school life. One day, you rescue your love interest while on super hero duty, when suddenly she starts talking about your alter-ego. You decide to stay and talk with her as a to see what she thinks of you at school. | I dropped the sides of the orb and set us down lightly in front of her house. "Wow, that's a pretty neat trick." She says with an admiring lift of her eyebrow.
"Thanks. Handy way to get around." Thankfully I manage not to stammer. Another nice side effect of my shadow powers was that they obscured my face a little. She wouldn't be able to see me blush when she complimented me.
Sarah Wallace is a knockout. Easily one of the most popular girls at school and I've had such a crush on her. I've dreamt of talking to her or even saving her ironically enough. So when downtown got hit with some explosions and I saw her in the middle of it I leapt at the chance.
She looks in the bag she was carrying and sighed with relief. "Thank goodness my dress made it ok. Reason I was downtown when all that started. Big dance coming up."
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh yeah? Anyone special to take you?" *Dude be cool.*
She shrugs and smiles. "Oh sure. I mean I'll get tons of guys asking me to go. There's even a rumor that Nathan Lee is going to try and ask.
Again thank goodness my powers obscured my features lightly. I couldn't control my face from turning bright red since I am the aforementioned Nathan Lee. "O-Oh yeah? What would you say?" *Dammit can I be more obvious?*
I was completely unprepared for the laugh that came from her. "Oh never. He's a cute kid and all. Really smart and glad to help with school work but I prefer a real guy. Brawny, muscles, popular, one of those types."
My heart drops and I wish I could just disappear. I mean I can do that but I was too in shock. I knew at some level this might be what she thought of me but to hear it like this...
My strange behavior goes unnoticed and she turns and smiles at me. Despite my broken heart I still get the flutter to see that incredible grin. "Thanks again!" she chirps before skipping to her door.
A half hearted wave and a barely audible "You're welcome." leaves my lips as I watch her go. Not trusting my powers when I'm so emotionally shaken I walk away, no destination in mind. I've experienced broken bones and bruised organs before, been blasted by elemental powers, hit by beings with super strength, all sorts of things. This is definitely the most painful event of my young life.
Turning the corner I hear a smoky laugh. "That must have been unpleasant to hear." My head whips around and I see a floating figure behind me, wisps of light emanating from her as she floats in air.
"Lunara!" I hiss. I gather my shadow energies around my hands, eager for a fight. "You picked the wrong time to mess with me."
She raises her hands in a placating motion. "Calm down Dusk. For once I'm not trying to taunt you or anything. I'm really sorry. Honestly."
I pause but don't drop my gathering energy. She actually seemed...sympathetic. An expression I've never seen before is on her face. "Why should I trust you?" I try to keep my voice cold and emotionless but my pain and confusion bleed in.
"Well you might not want to. But I really am sorry. It's never easy to hear that sort of thing. It needed to be heard though."
My mind processes what she said and something clicked. I drop my hands and the energy dissipates. My features twist with incredulity and my jaw drops. "Wait, you knew? How did you know?! Did you do this today so I would find out?"
She nods, again a strange expression. Sympathy and sadness, with a hint of something else. "Sorry. Yeah I did. You deserved to know."
My brow furrows and I look at her closely. Far more closely than ever before when we fought. "Who are you? Why do you care?"
A flash of panic and a bright light covers her face making me squint, hand up to block the sudden illumination. "Never mind that. You'll find out, if you can figure it out." She flicks her hair over her shoulder and suddenly flies off into the darkening sky leaving a light trail that fades.
I stand there looking up after her. More questions replacing the ones I had before.
| Hey, my name is Jace, but most people know me as 'Jump Set.' I didn't really get to choose my own name. That was the media. It doesn't even make sense. I don't jump or set. I'm not quite sure how my power works, but I can make small balls of energy that kinda eat other things. I just do what's right when I'm not at school.
There was a holdup at the mall, some dude swinging a gun in a jewelry store. I saved a girl. Well not just a girl. The girl. Sam. The girl I've been crushing on since sixth grade. I offered to walk her home after everything went down. An the walk she said she didn't want go home. I offered her coffee at my 'hideout.' An old, rusting train car discarded in an old, rusting junkyard. After a few minutes she said something.
"You kinda remind me of a kid I know. His name's Jace." She shakes her head, "Sorry, you dont want to know 'bout my problems"
"A good hero listens to others problems." I say as I sit down across from her in the abandoned railcar. "B'sides, it'll help you calm down. I know how it feels to have a gun pointed at you." I say with a smile under my mask. In truth, I am terrified. Sam is the one. Tall, long platinum hair, a round cute face with a little nose and full lips. Big green eyes. "This Jace dude a good guy or...?"
"He... Is weird." She says. Ouch. "But a good kind of weird. Kinda awekward too," yeah that's why I ware the mask. "He's cute but, I dont think he likes me at all." She says with a small huff. Then it's silence. My face must be beet red under this mask.
"Maybe he's just shy?" I ask trying to be 'Jump Set' and not Jace.
"Oh he is defiantly shy, but there's more to it than that. I've asked him out, like, a lot." When? I dont remember her ever asking me out. "But he always dodges it and says something like 'Next Time' or 'I have to run some errands for my grandma' and... I dunno. I'm thinking about giving up on it. Not trying anymore." Oh yeah... Oh no. Being Jump Set takes up so much of my free time. I come here, I make some coffee, I listen to the radio scanner till something happens, then I go home. I have to. What if Jump Set isn't there when he needs to be? God I'm such an Idiot. I realize she's looking at me for advice. Advice from me, about me.
"Ask him one more time." I say, " give it one more shot. Maybe he really did plan on a 'next time' but keeps winding up wrapped up in something else. If he says no again, take that as it is and move on." If I'm too busy being Jump Set, then I'll just wind up hurting her. If I say no again, I'll have to move on too.
(On mobile so, crammer and spelling will probably be jacked.)
| 2017-06-20T14:13:24 | 2017-06-20T11:20:46 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | *No.* Death thought. *It couldn't be.*
Death reached below the grand wooden table, hastily pulling out the dust covered hourglass. Questions flooded its mind. *How? When? Who?*
Carefully, Death set the hourglass sideways on its table, like the way it found it, the only one among the seven billion or so hourglasses in Death's office in such position. Death sank slowly into its black leather chair, its hollow eye sockets fixed on the hourglass.
No one escapes Death. That was what everyone said. Looking at the construct on the table, someone just did. Not knowing when or why bothered Death greatly.
When each human is born, an hourglass appears in Death's office. While each hourglass looked the same, the amount of sand inside them was not. The amount of sand signalled the lifespan of the owner. When the sand stops flowing, Death is summoned. The hourglass disappears once Death finishes its job.
Since time immemorial, Death has done its job without lapses. It does not question why. Death has always accepted its role. Looking at the stopped sand caused Death to question for the first time.
*Who is this human who escaped death?*
*How did the hourglass end up at the bottom of the table?*
*What should Death do?*
Death considered its options. It could report the lapse to its master. After all, Death is only a servant of a higher being. At least, that was what Death remembered. The memory was vague and hazy. It has been doing its job for eons alone without the need to contact the master. Never had there been any mistakes or incidents worth mentioning. The sideway hourglass was first.
Death shook its head. It cast a look at the door at the end of its office, rising thousands of meters above. The door to its master. Death could not recall the last time the door was used. Death preferred for things to stay that way. Death wanted to go back to its routine.
A bony hand reached from the flowing black robe, the white fingers wrapped themselves around the hourglass. Death let out a sigh, muttered an apology in its mind for the human who was about to lose his/her immortality, and flipped the hourglass upright.
The sand did not fall. They stayed in their position.
*What?*
Death was annoyed. It took the hourglass with both its hands and shook it. It turned the hourglass upside down several times. Still, the sand did not flow, while the sand in billions of others continued to fall.
*Who is this human entitled to immortality?*
Death let out a frustrated grunt. It wanted to throw the hourglass at the wall. How can Death be defied? It decided that it needed to seek out its master. Death grabbed the defective hourglass and started the long march towards the giant door. It needed an answer.
Just when it was about to leave its desk, however, a voice shook Death's office. Death recognised it instantly. The voice of the master.
**DON'T BOTHER.** The voice commanded.
**THE HOURGLASS IS YOURS.**
-------
*/r/dori_tales* | Interesting, I never really look under my desk. I don't really have time. I have to keep track of the hourglasses that line the walls and go up and down the tables in my office.
To call it an office might be putting it a little gently. You see its more like a warehouse, that is if the warehouse were 17 football fields long and filled with tables, shelves as far as the eye can see, each table meticulously covered by tiny hourglasses that represent the time remaining in someones life. I'm note exactly sure how my counterpart Life does it, but each one is the same size, about 2 inches tall but they can still take decades or in some cases over a hundred years to run out. When they run out, I collect the soul of the person who it represents.
However, apparently I missed someone. Or maybe I didn't, its impossible to know for sure. This dust covered hour glass is on its side. The sands of life have stopped running for it.
As I examine it I see the date of birth on it is 1922, which is not bad they could conceivably still be alive so this could be worse.
You know what, a few more years isn't that bad of a thing, this could be a record breaker when its all said and done and thats not a bad thing. If I just turn it upright, its got about half of its grains left to run. So we'll let them run, why not? Besides who's to say that this person can't do some good up there in the next 40 or so years?
As I set the hourglass up on the table I can't help but wish this person luck, they've obviously had it up until this point and I hope they continue to have it for the rest of their time.
Good Luck, Betty White. | 2018-10-03T06:52:49 | 2018-10-03T06:12:47 | 2,861 | 1,453 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | Henry stared blankly at the blinking console. What did the words mean? "67th Percentile in INTELLIGENCE" flashed on the screen then danced away as "51st Percentile in STRENGTH" followed.
"Looks like you're here to be ranked."
Henry turned to see a woman with blonde hair smile at him. She stretched her smile wider as she grasped his arm. "You're not from around here are you?" she asked.
Henry nodded, and felt his ears grow hot as the blood rushed to his head. No woman had ever touched his arm before. With her shiny red lips she cooed, "You must be one of the farmers. Welcome." Henry felt her soft body press against him. Henry replied "Thank you ma'am. I -er I'm not sure what's exactly happening." The console flashed “42nd Percentile in WEIGHT.”
"You'll find out soon enough" she said. Henry could see she had light blue eyes. She wrinkled her nose and said “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you had a decent percentage?” Henry smiled back and felt another hand at his back.
“He looks promising.” A wide-eyed girl traced his shoulders and took Henry’s arm and placed it around her waist. She examined his face and said “Such beautiful skin. My god—those eyes!” “77th Percentile in HEIGHT” flashed in front of them. “Ooo that’s pretty high!” Henry looked around, another woman with tan skin walked towards him. Behind her, a woman with blonde hair motioned others to join her. Henry was dumbfounded. It had been all of 2 minutes when he entered town and suddenly he was surrounded by women. “90th Percentile in RESILIENCY” flashed on the screen. The women applauded.
“What was that?” Henry said.
“It means—“
“Eighteen is—“
“Once a year—“
All the women clamored at once. Before Henry could get a coherent answer, another message flashed on the console.
“95th Percentile in GENETIC DEFICIENCY”
Henry could hear “Ooos” and “Ahhs” from the crowd. He could hear excited laughter and the occasional cheers. He looked around to see more women flocking towards him. He had never seen so many at once. Henry’s ears were on fire. He knew they were excited about him, excited about the messages, but he could not understand why. He tried to glean meaning from their responses. Henry felt the blonde woman grip his hand tight. The wide-eyed girl started to say something when he heard someone exclaim, “Look!”
“99th Percentile in FERTILITY” flashed on the console.
All voices were silenced. Henry could feel the crowd of women turn towards him. He saw what looked like hunger in their eyes. | When I jumped out my truck to enter the lan house, I kept my eyes ahead as my face burned. There were a few people around, staring at me with a strange smile.
Usually those stares did not bother me. One gets used to being stared at, having the big scar that I had crossing half of my left cheek.
But today people were smiling a tense smile, and it was a bit creepy.
Walking faster, I finally reached the door. Sitting at a table there was a stern young man. He was very focused on the machine that the city folks called computer.
I waited for what seemed hours, but he did not take notice of me. So, I coughed.
With a sigh, he looked in my direction. At first, the shock.
I shrugged.
\- Hey, it's only a scar. No big deal. Can you help me out with checking my rankings? I turn 18 today and I have never used...these. - I said, gesturing in the direction of the computer.
The man then smiled, standing up from his chair.
\- Sure. Sure...So, first timer huh?
Time passed and we finally managed to enter the rankings. The guy left me alone, going back to whatever he was doing previously.
\- Don't forget to pay me after you finish there. OK?
\- Of course. - I replied.
After a lot of entering list after list, I finally discovered a place inside the site that said "Your Best Rankings".
As I checked that out...oh boy.
\#5 Most Out of Touch with Technology
Probably the rest of the top ones was my family. I chuckled.
\#8 Most Days Without a Shower
This is...embarassing.
\#1 Most in Debt
Huh? Well, this explains why the guy told me to not forget to pay... | 2019-05-04T13:10:44 | 2019-05-04T12:27:51 | 68 | 27 |
[WP] You're a disembodied consciousness who wakes up every day in a new body. Today, for the first time, you wake up in the same body as yesterday. | Mornings were the worst.
That unnatural heat as the day began, warm air creeping through the cracks in the window as the sun’s rays found their way into my eyes. No matter which body I found myself in, mornings were always the same, a painful experience as I discovered my newest identity.
Stretching my arms up, I let out a groaning yawn, fingers twiddling in the air, testing out my muscles. It was a routine I had gotten used to, a way to check my body for aches. I had no way of knowing what type of body I was in, so these little processes helped ease the transition. Once I felt satisfied with my body’s condition, I pulled myself into a seated position, taking a moment to scan the surrounding room, noticing something strange. It was the same.
Those same stupid curtains with the holes littered throughout it. That same alarm clock that makes a roaring elephant noise every hour, and the same mirror seated Infront of me on the wall, revealing that scruffy bearded face from yesterday. “Great.”
Panic had creeped into my mind, not yet fully sending me into a panic, just causing the occasional flicker in my heartbeat, that quickening of breath as I stood up, carefully tracing my steps over the clothes covered floor.
“How am I still in this body? I should have changed.” None of this made sense. For as long as I could remember, my life followed that same pattern. I would wake up, live one day in the person’s body before being forced out of it and into another. No matter how good or bad the body was, I could stay no longer than a day, yet this person broke that mold.
Wandering the home, I felt like a thief, someone who stole the man’s identity and made it my own. The feeling made me ill, rushing to the kitchen sink, dry heaving as I tried to keep down my emotions. That creeping panic now penetrating my mind, causing sweat to push from my pores, spilling down onto my shaking hands. I stole this man’s life; I was no better than one of those horsehair worms, digging into the flesh of a creature, using it for my own purposes.
I never liked this life, I hated how I crept into people’s lives, forcing them to take a backseat while I tried to mimic their behavior. The only consolation I had was the reward of being freed after the day. The knowledge that my ventures would be temporary. I washed my face, splashing the cold water against my skin, using it to not only confirm that I was awake but also to dull my feelings. Reminding myself to take deep breaths.
There had to be a reason for this, something preventing me from moving on. I tried to figure it out but struggled to come up with any meaningful theories. With no prior experience with such a situation, I was clueless, moving throughout the house, almost expecting someone to pop out from the walls to explain it to me.
I spent my morning lying on the couch, resting that sick feeling in my stomach. Wondering what someone would do in my situation, I assume many would use this as a chance to cause mischief, a consequence free way of living, but I could not. I felt too much empathy towards the person I inhabited, unable to cause them grief. I just treated their bodies the same way I would want mine treated if I were in their shoes. Going out of my way to keep things the same as they were.
That train of thought easily maintained with only a day in each body. A day’s a brief span of time, limiting how much destruction an ethical person could cause. But two days, or possibly more, imagine the trouble I could indirectly cause through that.
With the feeling in my gut fading, I continued my exploration of the house. I had done the same thing briefly yesterday, but now my search was far more rigorous, turning over every spot in the home, searching for clues about this man, anything that could help me find a way out of him.
With each passing hour, I cursed my carefree attitude. To think I spent yesterday walking through the neighborhood sightseeing. If only I paid more attention yesterday, perhaps I may have prevented this. Eventually I found a clue, a wallet hidden away beneath a bowl of rotting fruit in the kitchen. “So, my names Jasper Lawton?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but when did it ever?
Slipping the wallet into the pocket of my shorts, I returned to the task at hand. Pulling at drawers, tossing items aside, trying to find the missing piece to this puzzle. Nothing else, no photos of loved ones or even a phone with contacts or messages. Apart from a name and face, I had no information.
Giving up my search, I retrieved a beer from the fridge, that being the only drink available. Usually, I wouldn’t drink in another body, but this stressful time called for a depressant. Sipping the bottle as I walked into the bedroom, dumping myself onto the bed. Maybe tomorrow would be better? I thought, trying to bring some hope back into my mind.
I nursed the beer as I sat on the bed, only stealing a sip from it when needed. When the bottle neared its end, I sat it on the bedside table, only to watch it tip over, spilling its contents onto the floor.
Another glorious moment to add to a great day. The sarcasm slipping out, venting my frustrations as I gathered a few scraps of toilet paper, getting onto my knees to smother the liquid, hoping to keep it from staining the carpeted floors. As I dully patted away at the floor, I noticed a loose piece of paper under the bed, causing me to drop the toilet paper to grab it.
The letter’s contents were somber, a long sad piece of writing that covered feelings of hurt, disgust and low self-esteem. I only lowered the letter for a moment, tapping the beer-stained toilet paper underneath my eye, attempting to dry them. The letter written like a critical review for a faulty product, listing fault after fault, a repetitive tale of depression.
“That explains it.” I placed the letter on the floor, leaning against the bedside table. “They don’t want to be themselves.” It sounded crazy, but that was the only thing that made sense. In some subconscious way they didn’t wish to return, trapping me in their body, pushing themselves into the passenger’s seat.
Now that I understood that, perhaps I could force them back into the driver’s seat, make them take back their control, but what good would that do? It would free me but imprison them. Picking the paper up once more, I pulled myself from the floor, eyeing over each complaint written in the letter.
“One by one, I’m going to help you, so I can free us both.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Dying fabulously rich has its perks. One of them is you never die. Not in today’s world at least. My consciousness has been uploaded to a memory Silo. People don’t realize the complexity of the human consciousness. How many resources are required to maintain a fully functional Silo. There are very few people in the world who can afford it. The CEO of Sylon Deep Space mining can.
Well, I’m retired now, but I still have a controlling share.
Each day a synthetic body is 3D printed for me. My consciousness is uploaded, and I go on my way and have my fun. At the end of the day my new memories are uploaded, and my old body recycled. The synthetics are… still in development stage. It’s not perfect. But the promise of immortality comes at a price. A small price, in my opinion, to escape the clutch of oblivion.
Some of the Immortals stay within their Silo. The risk is too great for them. You see, the synthetics only last for a maximum of 72 hours before they begin to break down. The risk of corruption to your upload is high. With enough corruption comes complete annihilation.
It’s worth it to me. I didn’t become the second richest man in the inner planets by forgoing risk. Besides, I gotta be on the move. I gotta have air in my lungs. Real air. Real sun. Real sky. Real women. No, I’d never live just within my Silo. I’d rather be dead.
* ​
I step out of the syncing machine naked as the day I was born. I step up to the mirror and look at myself. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d think I was a perfect physical specimen of a 28-year-old male. Not a 176-year-old ghost in the machine. I nod approvingly at what I see. It really is a work of art what my team has done.
I’m dressed and out the door in fifteen minutes. My private jet is waiting for me. When you only got a day in a body, you make the most of it. Every minute counts.
I step out into the sun and feel the warmth on me. After 176 years it still has never gotten old. I stretch and shout out to the sky. Life is great. This is going to be an easy, carefree day and I’ll be home before dusk to re-upload and recycle.
Yes, it’s going to be a good day.
* ​
Two hours later and I’m laying on a beach in Miami letting the sun roast my synthetic skin, enjoying the life of it all as I watch the crowds move past. Some stop, mostly kids who haven’t seen an Immortal before. I smile at them and this seems to frighten them, and they scurry off to their families.
After a while I get up and walk to the water. I wave off my attachment of bodyguards and wade into the water and take long strokes as I cut my way over rising waves. I swim until my arms burn and start to feel heavy. I don’t remember what it used to feel like when my muscles got tired. When I was in my original body. I’ve been in synthetics longer than I was organically alive. This thought makes me feel anxious and I flip on my back and start floating my way back to shore.
I’m not trying very hard though. I’m really enjoying the silence and the blue sky above me and the lapping of the water along the line of my face. This peace is interrupted though when I hear the sound of an engine and I look up and see a slick black boat only a few yards away as it kills the engine and floats towards me. Three men are in the boat and they look towards shore and then back at me. Their faces are indifferent and for a second, I think they are just checking on me. That’s before I feel the sting in my shoulder and see a small dart protruding from it.
My muscles start to feel really heavy at this point and I feel I’m going to sink to the bottom of the ocean. One of them throws a rope around me and drags me to the boat and pulls me out of the ocean like a paralyzed marlin. I try to speak but nothing comes out and the bright Florida sun begins to dim, then goes out completely.
* ​
When I awake, I’m tied to a chair, and the first thought in my mind is: what time is it? How long have I been out? A fear courses through my body and makes me feel cold. I look down at my synthetic skin and I can see it is already starting to change colors. I’ve never woken up in the same body as yesterday and I don’t like the feeling. I look around and the room is dark.
“Hello!” I shout and I hear no answer. But after a few minutes there are footsteps. High heels. A woman steps into the room.
“Hello, Mr. Kroft,” the woman says. Her voice is soft and polite, and I recognize it. She move from behind the shadows and close to me and I’m not surprised when I see Joanne standing above me, smiling apologetically.
Joanne has been the CEO of Sylon for that past fifteen years. She’s been the most ambitious of all the CEO’s I’ve hired over the last one hundred years and I owe a lot of my wealth to her. But why she is standing over me now as I’m tied to a chair, I have no idea. I'm thinking maybe it wasn't such a good hire after all.
\---------------------
For more stories, check out my subreddit!
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-01-16T23:46:21 | 2021-01-16T22:30:20 | 1,116 | 37 |
[WP]Sometimes children get born with weird diseases like vampirism or lycantrophy. The effects of these uncurable illnesses only get detectable when the kid is around 8 years old. Many parents then abandon their child. You run an orphanage for these children. | I was getting the little ones all settled for dinner when the ringing of the doorbell split my concentration. A part of me wanted to go see who it was so they'd stop ringing the bell (even if no one but myself could hear it), while a larger part wanted to make sure everyone at the table got dinner now that I had got them all seated.
So part of me went, and part of me stayed.
The part that went opened the front door to a familiar sight. A slimy looking man in a suit, flanked by two stern-faced guards. All three clearly standing on my porch, and yet I could only see them with my eyes. Well, we have ways around that.
"Ah, good, Mr. Wildthorne. My name is Harvey Bleeker, and I have a proposition I think you'll find very interesting." The slimy man smiled a slimy smile, which I matched with a blandly-raised eyebrow.
"Hmm. Well, may you be <~fully~> welcome into our home." I stepped back, even as the note of power from my word thrummed through my form. The man did not seem to notice the shift, as he and his two guards appeared completely to all my senses, but both of the guards flinched, with the woman on the right shooting me a dirty look. I merely kept up the raised eyebrow, leading to her looking away with a huff.
The man strode in like he owned the place, and I could now see the greasy wheels of his mind pumping and churning out ideas for how he could make that a reality. At least this one has the decency to want to try and work through me, rather than around me. Saved me quite a bit of time.
"Now," he said, spinning around, and actually rubbing his hands together, "this is a lovely building you have, but is it really the best environment for your charges? I'm sure you do the best you could, but really, the sheer number of different needs is going to be far too much for one man."
I stifled a snicker at that, by way of having the portion of myself currently overseeing trimming the back lawn bend over laughing. With that out of the way, I decided to skip forward a bit. "So, in your 'Monster Zoo' idea, how do you plan to account for those who are dangerous to view directly?"
He laughed and waved his hand. "Oh, that won't be a..." He trailed off as the question actually processed, setting the dirty wheels of his mind spinning off course. I saw the moment that the lightbulb clicked, as a cruel, twisted smirk slid across his face, looking far more at home than the attempt at a genial grin he'd been wearing before.
"You... read my mind." He chuckled. "That, was a mistake, my friend. A federal felony, in fact. You obviously are a dangerously corruptive influence, and..."
I cut him off before he could build into a full villainous monologue. Summerdew was starting to try to get the vegetables to 'escape' from the other children's plates, and Logann had started to fur up a bit from Cathy and Elaine shouting across him, and I wanted to return this bit of my attention to help handle things. "Yes, yes, I am reading ahead a bit. And I'm sure it would be a terrible thing if we were actually on U.S. soil. But we aren't, are we? Tell me, Harvey, did you actually do any research on me before starting this scheme, and if so, are you aware of the rights afforded to a Class 7 Horthwatson's sufferer, also known as a genius loci?"
His triumphant grin had slid off his face and shattered into a look of stunned horror. He glanced around at the room for a moment, taking in the couches and such of the parlor that we were sitting in. The parlor that we hadn't been in until I translocated all four of us there as I was talking. His gaze flickered towards the door of the room, as if judging if he could make it.
Obligingly, I allowed the door to slide open, revealing the view of my front porch as I linked the doors to the entrance. He almost flipped the couch he was on as he dove over it and hit the path running as he shot through the doorway. He kept going straight down the street opposite my front gate, running pell-mell down the center.
I shook my head as the door closed, before turning to the two guards, or as I knew them, Greg and Sanna. "How do you keep finding men like him?"
Greg laughed, and elbowed Sanna, both of them ignoring the rather rhetorical question. "I told you it wouldn't work."
Sanna just folded her arms sulkily as the visual illusions they no longer needed faded away, revealing the many criss-crossing stitches on Greg's neck and hands, and on Sanna's part, revealing her hair to be floating, slightly transparent before it faded like smoke at the ends.
"Someday, I'll manage to trick you completely." She insisted.
I nodded. "I'm sure. But not today. Now, c'mon, your brothers and sisters would love to say hi, and it will be a distraction from the brewing food fight."
They both laughed at that, and internally, I glowed, savoring the feeling of two of my children being safe within my walls again, however short it may end up being. While my entire goal was to help those suffering from the many forms of Horthwatson's to land on their feet and become successful adults, in my heart, they'd always be my children.
And I, their home. | Some may wonder why a normal person like me would run such a place or why no one seems to be able to track my family or why I was abandoned. Though none of that really matters now does it.
It not an easy task running an orphanage, but someone has to do it. These days it’s not so stressful. Some of the children have grown up and have dropped by to help. Damn kids should be out there living and let me take care of things.
The orphanage is rather large now. only those years of government funding and donations help. I remember the days when I had just started, when people thought these children should be locked up, contained. Maybe even trained for the "benefit of the world", some of these people would even donate or volunteer and yet they somehow expect me raise these poor kids for them. Some fanatics even go so far as attacking the place, but I got guards now so it’s all safe. Butcher supply chain for the blood and hearts and anything else dietary needs.
Well now is not the time. I’m going to pick up the new kids. The police recently found a gang ring picking them of the streets and training them for their own sick agendas. It’s fortunate that police stopped them in time. These kids are going to choose their own ways in life.
The bus stops. “well that was more than I expected” they’re at least 30 kids. I clear my throat. here goes nothing "Hello everyone, from today I am your new caretaker. you can call me Bob. This bus will take you to new home. a safe place "
"And what if I don't want to get on the bus" One dark eyed kid says suspiciously. I pause "Well I’m not going force you. You are free to leave anytime, or even not come at all. I will nevertheless help in any way that I can if you want to go to a different place. What’s your name young stranger?"
He answers a bit confused "You can call Timmy. I will come, I was just asking" The other kids are a bit scared too, now. Silly me, I should not have given them the choice of another place so soon, they probably think I don't want them. Well it worked, so it doesn’t matter for now.
The trip back is quite normal. None of them makes any problems, though some of them looks at me with suspicious eyes. It doesn’t matter though. Timmy is a bit off, so I have a chat with him. Poor thing thinks I’m punishing him for acting up. Maybe a safe place and a bit of time will fix that.
As the bus arrives and we get off, I think that it must have been long time since I’ve shown the kids their rooms myself. The other staff, however, protests, citing my declining health. Not that I listened. I give the kids a list of free rooms and choice, and then I lead them to the rooms one but one. It helps that some of older rooms can house 5 children, and that most of the kids choose such rooms. All of them do, actually, except Timmy. As we stand alone, I put on a smile and take off my suit, maybe it’s intimidating him. Maybe I look like one of those gangsters. Silly me, I take my gloves off as well.
"The heck happened to you hand, sir, did a kid do that to you? Is that why you wear that lame dress? Are you a normal?" He blurts out
I laugh, and say "Oh this really nothing, and of course it was not one of the kids. You wonder what my gift is? I’ll tell you if you promise to pick a room."
Timmy keenly spoke "OK, but only if you say how you got that".
"My gift is that I can see through any darkness, smoke, fog, dust or anything similar. And how that? Well, my dad poured acid on me by accident once".
A white lie, but it matters not. The important thing is that I got Timmy to pick a room.
He spoke timidly "I am of those world enders you know"
I patted him on his head "Doesn’t matter, we’ll take all children in"
I was a bit surprised, but I managed to hide it. World enders usually don’t make it past ten. However, I was lucky, so maybe he would be too.
&#x200B;
Edit: grammar and changed some words | 2019-01-17T07:58:51 | 2019-01-17T07:09:50 | 61 | 23 |
[WP] You've been in a strange relationship for the past year with a person on the phone who called you by mistake. Finally, you both decide to meet but when you're both in the same location you figure out somehow you both exist in different realities | Victoria called me by mistake to complain about Game of Thrones. She didn't even wait to hear who was on the other side, she just started ranting while assuming I was one of her friends.
I didn't have the heart to interrupt. Her outrage was incredibly engaging. It completely captured how I felt at the moment. And she was right, you know, those writers got off lucky. They should've been lynched.
After clearing up the confusion, she noticed that my number wasn't similar to her friend's, which made it impossible to misdial. We chalked it up to a weird glitch. Both of us were grateful for the human interaction since we were working long hours at the time and never had the time to actively socialize. I never knew where she was from. Her phone number was from a different area, but I didn't want to pry deeper out of respect for her privacy.
Unfortunately, we could never meet despite talking every week. Our schedules barely allowed us to have our chats. It was nice having a friend, but eventually those feelings turned into silent longing from both sides. I was too stubborn to be the first one to admit it and, knowing her, I'm guessing she felt the same way. The chemistry was undeniable, though. Pauses in conversation felt natural. Sometimes we'd leave the phone on for hours while going through chores, barely speaking. Her presence still felt near despite only being a voice.
It wasn't until the pandemic hit that we started spending every day together. My feelings were bottling up for almost a year at that point. I could tell she was growing anxious because of the isolation, so I asked if we could finally meet to pass the time together.
At first, Victoria hesitated out of concern for my safety. She wasn't afraid of getting sick, but she didn't want me endangering myself for her. I didn't insist further which, strangely enough, caught her off guard. She kept bringing up the prospect of meeting and bemoaning our circumstances, almost begging me to risk it. I took a chance again, saying I still wanted to see her, even if it meant taking on the universe itself. Then, when she asked me why I would do something so stupid, I confessed my feelings for her.
The ensuing silence was the longest I'd endured in all my life.
My heart pounded harder by the second, making me regret ever being vulnerable. She was definitely thinking about how to reject me in the least awkward way possible. I couldn't believe it when she said she loved me. I had to ask her to repeat just to make sure I heard right. A weight lifted off my shoulders. Victoria started laughing at me for ever doubting our bond. Everything was going great until I asked for her address. It took me a second to realize it was literally the same as mine, down to the apartment number.
Victoria assumed I was pranking her. Her tone grew unnerved when I began to describe my apartment. Exactly the same as her own. Even most of the furniture was an exact match, with a few differences here and there. Her first guess was that I'd been stalking her. I freaked out at the accusation, but that only made her more suspicious. Victoria ended the call out of the blue. She didn't even say goodbye like usual.
I sunk on my couch, processing everything. Could it be another universe? The only other explanation was that she was a figment of my imagination. Neither option was appealing. If she was real, it meant we were as far apart as possible in our worlds. Holding back those tears was a big challenge, which I ended up failing at. Out of all the ways I could fall in love, it had to be in the most unfeasible relationship possible. I'd given up hope on ever speaking with her again until I heard my phone ring. It was Victoria. I could tell from her voice that she'd been crying too. She apologized for hanging up and said:
"I... I think this has to be goodbye. For good."
"I'm not spying on you!"
"I think I believe you... but it's not that. Have you contemplated what this could mean?"
"I've tried to avoid it."
"It's another world, Drew! A mirror dimension!"
"Yeah, what's your point?"
"The way we talk, how we always feel the same, our freaking apartments! It means we're each other!"
I widened my eyes. I didn't consider that. "But... we have different parents. And jobs."
"Of course there's differences, but it's obvious we're more or less the same person."
"So we're really similar. That shouldn't be an obstacle. If anything, it means that you love yourself."
Victoria made a pained sigh. "Don't say stuff like that. Please."
"Why not?"
"Because it's impossible! Falling more in love with you will only hurt me more."
"You're seeing this the wrong way."
"How?!?"
"Because this scenario should already be impossible! It confirms that there's another universe and that we can contact it. We can research this! If we can speak, we can most certainly see each other one day."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I'm... I'm not. It's a guess. However, I *did* promise to take on the universe itself for you. It should be obvious to you that I was completely serious about that."
"You're really gonna try?"
"I'll take on the multiverse if I have to!"
We continued talking every day afterwards. I'd never been more obsessed with a project before. Everyone in my reality thought I'd gone insane. After years of investigating, I lost my credibility as a researcher. A laughingstock of the scientific community. The ridicule only drove me to work harder on the project.
Victoria cheered me on all the way, even after a decade of no progress. We'd come to a quiet arrangement where we never doubted my goal. I was already an old man when I stumbled upon my first breakthrough. Victoria grew weaker with age. We didn't have much time left together. My spirit crumbled after she wasn't in good enough health to answer my calls every day. I realized we might never meet.
And then I finished the portal. As I stared into the swirly void, lingering fear resonated in my mind. The device was untested. Its consequences could be far more disastrous than anticipated. I wasn't even sure I might be able to build another one on the other side. This one took too many resources to build. I already went into bankruptcy to build this one, and it took an unreasonable amount of time to assemble. If I stayed, if I delayed my attempt until I could restore my reputation in this world, I could be rich enough to build a second one and return with Victoria. The only problem was I didn't know how long she had left. Even a day of hesitating could mean never seeing her.
I jumped in anyways. Obviously.
The journey stretched out my body in impossible angles, twisting and snapping me until spitting me on the other side.
I landed on my knees. My body trembled uncontrollably from the experience. Did I make it?
"Drew?"
I could recognize that voice anywhere. Victoria waited for me on the other side of the door.
------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | "Hello? Sammy?" Margaret answered her phone before the first ring finished. She sat on a park bench on a bright sunny day. She anxiously looked left and right every few seconds waiting for him to appear.
"Yeah, where are you?" Sam asked, though it was difficult to hear him. Wherever he was, it was noisy. "I'm here at the park but I don't see you. I thought maybe you went somewhere to get out of the rain."
"Rain?" Margaret asked. "Hold on." She pulled the phone away from her ear, took a picture of the azure sky, then sent it to him. "It's a beautiful day, I don't know where you are," she said.
"Huh," Sam replied. A few seconds later Margaret received a picture of a grey downpour and the edge of a white umbrella.
"Did...," Margaret hated the thought, but it was the only explanation. "...Did you lie to me? Have you been lying this whole time?" Sam sighed on the other end.
"No," he said, though he suddenly sounded annoyed about something. "Crap, I didn't expect this," she heard him mumble under his breath. He went quiet, but she still heard him moving around as if he were looking for something on his phone and walking. "Yes!" he whispered excitedly but still remained quiet. His breathing picked up as if he was running.
"Hello?" she asked after a quiet minute.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." he said through gasping breaths. "Okay, so. I'll be there in a second. Um. This is going to be hard to explain, but I swear I didn't catfish you. The pictures I sent you are me, but.. that's not the me that's going to show up.'
"What?" Margaret asked.
"I'll explain when I get there. I gotta hang up. See you in a bit, bye."
"What the hel-," she started to curse to herself, then she heard her name.
"Margaret?" a low, gravelly voice said behind her. She whirled around and found a short, hairy, fat man wearing extremely baggy jeans and an old white hoodie. This wasn't the tall, handsome, brown-haired man she was looking forward to meeting.
"Yeah," she said with no enthusiasm; her anger at being catfished began to swell. "You're Sam, I take it?" She crossed her arms and stared at the fat bearded man. Even though she was sitting she was still a bit taller than him.
He nodded and took a step toward her. Margaret immediately wondered if he was disabled somehow. His walk was unsteady and his knees moved oddly in his jeans. She leaned back and put her hands up.
"Don't come any closer until you explain why exactly I *haven't* been catfished," she said. He stopped, nodded, then took a step back.
"Let's start with the rain," he said. "It was raining where I was, but it wasn't raining here. Even though we were both in the same park."
"Okay. Why was it raining there and not here?' she asked.
"We were in the same spot in different universes. It just happened to be raining in mine." Margaret narrowed her eyes.
"Different universes?" she asked. "And I suppose in your universe you look like the pictures you sent, but in this universe, you look like...," she gestured at his short, bulky frame. "...a lie." He laughed.
"As a matter of fact yes, kind of," he said.
"I'm leaving," Margaret stood up, but Sam put his hands up to stop her.
"Wait! I can explain! I'm not lying to you about anything, there're just more steps to the truth than you thought." She stopped walking but did not sit down again.
"I don't care about the steps, I care about the truth. If the next sentence out of your mouth doesn't explain why you're not lying, I'm leaving," she said.
"The only way I could get here on short notice was to use my AlterNet character; it's a good thing your Earth is a server."
"I don't know what that means," Margaret turned away and started walking.
"I'm a druid!" Sam dashed around to block her again. He made an upward motion with both his hands and rose bushes sprouted out of the ground around them. "Your Earth is a game server, and my character is a druid. A Faun druid, actually." He pulled his white hoodie back to reveal a small pair of sprouting horns. "My body is on my Earth. I can visit here, or you can visit there, or we can visit any other Earth you want. I just need more time to arrange a taxi. The fastest way to get here now was to log in with my character."
"Earth is... a game server?" Margaret asked. Sam nodded.
"This one is, luckily."
"Does that mean I can make a character too?" she asked. Sam nodded.
"Of course! If you give me a couple of hours I'll be back, in person, with everything you need to get started. In the meantime, you can start getting ready."
"Okay! What do I need to do?" Margaret asked. She wasn't entirely sure she believed him yet, but for some reason, she couldn't decide he was lying.
"Start digging a hole in your backyard," he said.
"How big?" Margaret asked. Sam shrugged.
"About the size of a grave I guess," he smiled. Then, he stood still. His hairy face and body smoothed out to become a black, featureless mannequin. Then, it disintegrated into dust.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #102. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | 2020-04-11T07:23:38 | 2020-04-11T07:14:17 | 392 | 69 |
[WP] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “other half" at the speed of light using quantum messaging. When you were tested there was no response, now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived.
thats all you get to go on, can be born years apart, could be distance, could be missing soul, whatever you want.
theme, setting and genre all up to you.
*"technology" can be magic, natural human empathy, gods, whatever. | The Matchmaker - a modern day miracle, if you believe the press. An unprecedented triumph for science and humanity.
Mind you, they don't have to support the bloody thing. I do.
I won't lie to you - it's a seriously impressive piece of kit. I'm not too clear on the science of it all, but the technology side I have down to a tee. All it requires is two pieces of equipment - a cranial implant at the base of the neck, and a digital wristband capable of displaying simple messages once a match had been found.
The implant maps your entire being - hopes, fears, dreams, likes, dislikes, what you had for lunch three years ago on a Tuesday, everything. It then feeds back to the centralised database, where it compares your essence to every other Matchmakee (I know, I know. I had no say in the slang terms we use) and dictates your soul mate.
No new technology is without its problems - in the old, unproven days, the combination of limited participants and a basic matching algorithm, it wasn't uncommon for there to be mistakes, or even "no matches found". That was, until it went viral.
The more people signed up, the more matches were made. Parents had implants attached to their children; though they weren't connected to Central before their 18th birthday, the implant could monitor everything. The implant knew the host better than the host knew themselves, and the algorithm learned as a result - these days, the company boasts a 100% success rate.
Well, they would, if it weren't for one slight problem - they can't find me a match.
Nobody can figure it out - not even me, and I work tech support for Matchmaker HQ. I know all the error codes by heart - MM25, limited network connection (all implants come with built-in WiFi, because *of course they do*).
MM62 - Cranial Implant needs realigned.
Me? Any time I connect to Central, I get the same error message -
MM708724$xs - Unknown Conflict Error
My coworkers were stumped - none of them had ever seen that error code. I've escalated to Tier 2, who escalated to Tier 3, so on and so forth. It went all the way up the chain to the Lead Developer for the Matchmaker, who ended up shrugging his shoulders in disbelief.
"I don't know what to tell you, sir," he said, "I have never seen that error message before and *I wrote the backend code!*"
That was ten years ago. I'd all but given up on it - resigned to a life lived alone, the solitary failure, the dirty little secret the company would love to keep buried forever.
Until tonight, that is. I was beta testing a new version of the wristband - increased functionality, better speed, different colours - and was working on the message reception functionality.
Ok, don't judge me - I'd been drinking a little. I wasn't paying as close attention as I should have, and in my distracted state, I accidentally sent two messages to the test device at the same time.
The error flashed up on the screen.
MM708724$xs - Unknown Conflict Error
I froze, instantly sober.
*It couldn't be... No way...*
I tried again - two messages to the same device at the same time. Once again, the screen read those all-too-familiar words - Unknown Conflict Error.
*No. But that would mean...*
In a daze, I disconnected the wristband from the test Implant provided. I cradled it in my hands for a while - I guess I was afraid of what I had to do, and what I would find if I did.
I slid it on my left wrist, locking it into place and tentatively connected it to my Implant. Normally, this wouldn't be possible - the Implant is designed to reject two wristbands of the same firmware being attached to the same Implant. But this was a test device, with brand new firmware. The digital screen blinked back into life, displaying a single message.
*Awaiting connection to Central*
With my breath held, I logged into Central on both wristbands. Time passed at a crawl, as both devices authenticated against the database.
And then... *Ping!*
Both wristbands were flashing, indicating a match.
My heart was beating a tattoo on the inside of my chest, too afraid to look. But look I did.
**Wristband 1**
*Congratulations! Matchmakee Maria Hayes, 26, Florida, has been identified as your soul mate!*
**Wristband 2**
*Congratulations! Matchmakee Judith Hayes, 26, Florida, has been identified as your soul mate!* | The evening news tends to be filled with serious issues. Climate change, terrorism and politics, wrapped into a neat 30 minute show. Unveilings of new machinery and inventions tend to be stuff for local newspapers. Because of that, the final bit told by the grey-haired newsreader was all the more surprising.
Even more surprising was the gigantic line the following morning. Hundreds of people had shown up early in the morning, their curiousity piqued from the news report.
I guess I wasn't any different. A machine that pinpoints your soulmate, the one person who you can spend your whole life with and love it. Who wouldn't be curious? Standing in line, though... That part sucked.
What sucked even more was a worst-case scenario actually happening. I had thought about what could happen during several hours of standing in line and had concluded that the worst thing would certainly be the name of an ex popping up. instead, after a lengthy scan of my face, eyes and palms, the machine showed me something even worse.
An error message. Error 1063, "soulmate not found".
Whoever wrote that error message is an asshole.
I wasn't too bothered by it at first. It seemed like a novelty machine, but in the months that followed everyone at college started hooking up. It wasn't long until the "Magic Match Maker" had given everybody someone to love. Everybody except me. Error 1063.
I started looking online for answers. A small community had indeed started for people who had the same history with the big M3. It seemed like I found an answer, the machine simply messed up and there was another 1063 out there for me.
Years later, after graduating in Computer Sciences, I still hadn't found my own soulmate. I had been through a couple of relationships since the mishap. None of them were bad, but I never really felt invested. After several months, the error message always popped back into my mind, like a roadblock. I went back to the drawing board, and really the only thing I felt I knew anything about: the internet.
I spent hours searching a variety of dating sites, but it all seemed the same. I needed something new. Something different.
I didn't find a new community, or a new date, or even a coping method, but I did find something else that interested me, a little piece of inspiration. It started with a small program I worked on during weekends, but grew larger and larger as months and years passed by.
It has been 10 years since the error message, and about 7 years since I started my project. I realised that the initial M3 was too limiting. It wasn't broken, nor was there something wrong with me. It simply misunderstood some people, people who couldn't connect with others in the traditional, romantic-comedy-kind-of-way.
I stood in front of the large machine I had been building. A replacement for the M3 that would finally give 1063's like me a place to belong. 7 years of work was about to come to fruition - it was time to give the Aromantic Platonic Partner Finder its first test run.
I turned on the machine, scanned my face, eyes and palms and waited patiently for an answer. In a minute, the machine would beep and a name would pop up on the machine's large screen, the name of my platonic soulmate.
The beep sounded. I looked up.
"It works." | 2015-11-30T13:37:18 | 2015-11-30T11:35:42 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] One day, browsing reddit, you decide to click the random subreddit button. Upon doing this, you discover a subreddit obsessed with you, with posts lincluding everything you've been doing until a few hours ago. | I never go into random.
If I need to find it, it seems to come to me. Or I'll be on google and the subreddit for the thing I'm googling pops up. But I'm bored as hell.
My computer's been semi-on the fritz. By which I mean, I can barely watch a YouTube video without glitches, freezes, skipping audio... so gaming's out of the question, I don't touch Netflix, and my writing's been uninspired for months.
So I clicked random for once. Why not?
What popped up was /r/watchingladyrage8/.
Bitch, what?
At first, it seems like pretty basic knowledge from my actual page. The fact that they know where I go to college seems kinda normal, I've made some posts and some comments on the sub for it. Yeah, I follow and comment on a metric shitton of character, writing, and worldbuilding subs, of course they know I write. Knowledge of my brothers is okay, I did just mention them in AskReddit.
Wait a second here... they know my best friends' names.
And they know the /u of one of them.
They mention him (without tagging) in some of the posts.
Okay, nowww we're verging into weird. He and I have no overlap, nothing tying us together, hell, I've tossed him in as a friend on here but I never see him in orange because his posts don't intersect on anything I follow.
And then...
**"Too Bad, She Didn't Finish Watching Bones"**
Okay, that's true, but I didn't tell anyone that. Hell, I even lied and told my roommate I *did* finish it.
**"Did her old roommate steal her magnets? Discuss."**
I've barely mentioned that to my own mother.
**"Look at this stinkeye the old roommate bitch gave her this morning."**
Wait...
**"Hope that interview goes well for her!"**
That was this morning. What the fuck?
**"Her door for the floor-wide contest looks so good! She's got this in the bag"**
I'm going to scream. And that's when I got an unexpected text, from the aforementioned best friend I never see on my reddit.
*Get off of it before they realize. You're lucky I found you here first.* | I always thought I was a pretty normal though mundane guy. Nothing too exciting. I work a normal boring job, feed my cat every day, a balding, middle aged divorcee with a grown son who is too busy to know I exist. You know the type.
So when Lisa got me into the newest office craze I just thought it would be something silly to pass my long tedious hours. You know, when there was nothing better to do.
But boy is it addicting! Was a great suprize. They have everything on here! Now I'm not to good with computers but they made it so easy. And it can even be randomized. I've never seen anything like it.
Just watch what it'll pull up this time.... Wait...what? This can't be right.
Titles of post seem eerily familiar.
"Sits down at the park"
"Has a flash back"
Things that happened just earlier today.
Pages upon pages of my life. Laid out for everyone to see.
My interactions with Lisa. My rides on the bus. The smallest mundane details of my life.
They even knew my cats name.
Norman. | 2017-10-26T16:39:33 | 2017-10-26T15:19:19 | 267 | 78 |
[WP] In the middle of the State of the Union the President pauses and goes off script starting with the phrase, "...people should know the truth" | "And that's why before I end my second term, I will begin with an overhaul of the prison industrial complex and guantanamo. No more will our children... Our Children. My Children." The president ran his hand over his sweating brow, and the more astute watcher would have noted a tremor in it. "*People should know the truth*."
The presidents aids ran up to him, blustered and afraid, but he pushed them off. "If this transmission ends, let it be proof that what I say is **the truth**," he said as he gripped the podium tighter. "The truth is the union is fucked, as is the rest of the world."
A gasp rippled through the crowds, and several blankfaced men in suits began to edge ever closer to the podium. The president eyed them up and grinned. "This adress, my dear Americans, is live. I assure you that is the **only** reason I'm not already dead. So I will say all I can until the power fails. The truth is we've made contact, and have been in contact for quite some time."
The blankfaced men began to quicken their pace to the president, but froze in unison as "*stand down, he's too far in*" crackled over their ear-pieces. The president noticed this, and went on with his speech. "They first made contact in 1900 via radio. They contacted us, and let us know they would be coming in 2042. They explained that 142 years was the equivalent of 2 of their years, and that when they returned it would be as conquerers."
Screams filled the auditorium and millions of living rooms, but the president raised his hand to stifle this hysteria and continued.
"**PLEASE**, be calm. I should have worded it better. You see they meant it differently. These beings told us we were about to exponentially increase in all things. They predicted penicilin, they predicted the internet and cars and planes and nuclear bombs. They knew it all, roughly when we'd discover atoms and DNA. But they didn't tell us these things as a blessing but as a curse. You see, they also predicted AI. And that, my fellow Americans, is the secondary truth I give to you today. We have created Artificial intelligence."
"*move in* **NOW**" the voice crackled, but the blankfaced men were blankfaced no longer. They looked at the president, and stood firm.
"These beings, they warned us as such. They told us that our species was not special, but was still worthy of life and preservation. And they warned us that evolving too quickly can create a beast totally unlike ourselves. They will come as conquerors not of us, but of IT." | "People should know the truth. The truth about Donald Trump." Contrasting the distinguished demeanor of his salt-and-pepper hair and finely pressed suit, Obama's eyes gleamed impishly, his heavy lids lightening as the corners of his lips threatened to break into smile. "But, I think it would be unfair - unbelievable, maybe - for me to say anything more without introducing two of my close friends." With a gesture of invitation, the president beckoned.
Stephen Colbert and Donald Trump walked onto stage. Each took a moment to greet Obama with easy smiles and comfortable handshakes - Trump even gave the president a little hug, careful not to muss his perfectly quaffed hair. With introductions finished, the two flanked Obama, looking out to the crowd with amused serenity. For a few long seconds - painfully long for Paul Ryan, whose eyes darted wildly for an explanation as his jaw began to fall with the awfulness of possibilities - the entire assembly was as silent as the grave.
"I'm proud to announce Mr. Colbert..." Obama paused for dramatic effect, his french pronunciation of the satirist's name lingering, "...has been Donald Trump's true campaign manager since the very beginning. I'm sure you can all imagine exactly what that means." Obama couldn't stifle his grin this time and it devoured his complexion until all that remained was jovial glee. "And that's why I stand here confident that State of our Union is strong, though the state of the GOP is something of a joke. Thank you. God bless you. God bless the United States of America." | 2016-01-13T11:37:41 | 2016-01-13T11:12:07 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help." | "So, these guys could wipe you off the face of the universe," President Walter said with a wide grin. "And you could do nothing about? No death rays? Giant robots? Small robots? Nothing?"
Although his big black eyes were unreadable to humans, the President and the rest of the UN Security Council noticed the little grey alien looked increasingly uncomfortable. Walters was not the only one beaming.
"That will cost you, you know," Walters continued. "We want access to all your shiny toys. Computers, spaceships, reactors, matter replicators. Henry, give me the list."
Walters handed the alien a printout that had taken the experts a few hours to compile and the Council a few weeks to negotiate. "Just to be clear, Ambassador. We want blueprints, manuals, text books. We want to be able to understand this stuff, not just replicate it."
"My experts told me that you have to redo most of your physical theories for that," the ambassador said. "Are you willing to do that? Can your scientists survive that humiliation?"
Walters looked puzzled. The closest person to a scientist he knew was his science advisor. And that guy loved to be corrected. Henry abandoned wrong theories faster than Walters abandoned deals that went sour.
"Leave that to us, Ambassador. Get us the data and we take care of the rest."
The little alien stared at the group of leaders, then dissolved into a cloud of sparkles. The ambassador had returned to his ship. Ten minutes later, a crystal appeared in front of each nation's leader. A single sheet of plastic accompanied it, carrying the instructions how to read the data.
* * *
"Henry, explain that again. But this time leave out all the science jargon and explain it like i'm five."
"Well, Mr President. The other side is about as advanced as we are. We are equal. They have death rays, we have them. They have big space ships, we can have them in a few weeks if we want. They have nanotechnology, bio weapons, you name it. We have all that too."
"Hmm. Mutually assured destruction all over again. Are the Grey behind this? I mean, they confessed they abducted people to find out about us. You don't do that if you're a nice alien."
"They're just desperate. You've seen the videos of the invasion fleet. Our scouts have mapped each and every ship. Those Reds can destroy all Grey worlds three times over."
"Hmm. And we can contact the Reds?"
"Yes, Sir. The interstellar communicators can lock onto their ships as well as onto ours."
"Get me their boss on the line. And project the map of the universe so that I can share my screen with him," Walters said, proud of himself that he had learned a bit of technology slang.
Dr Henry sighed. The communication link was easy to set up. There was, however, no line involved and no screen either.
* * *
"And you, puny being, speak for your planet," the holographic representation of the Red King boomed.
"I am," Walters said, while he walked around the seven feet lizard, inspecting him from all sides. "And I have a suggestion. A deal if you will."
"We do not make deals with food."
"Ahh, yes. And we usually don't make deals with pets, but let's both make a exception today," Walters said. "I assume, you heard the Grey upgraded our technology a bit."
"They are food. Nothing they do is of consequence. Food with spaceships is still food," the Red King boomed.
"But we have equipped these spaceships with death rays," Walters said. "Based on the technology of the Grey."
The Red King's hologram flickered for a few seconds. Walters assumed that he was talking to his aides and therefore waited patiently.
"What do you want, President Walters," the Red King asked.
Walters pointed to the map of the galaxy. The Red Kingdom formed a giant red cloud, encompassing many star systems. The mist that illustrated the Grey empire was easily ten times as big. A small blue ring pulsated slightly. Earth was surrounded by Grey space.
"We can do each other a lot of damage. Our simulations show that we could eradicate each other in a short, bloody war. All that would remain is this," Walters said and nodded to Dr Henry. The red cloud was swallowed by the grey mist. The blue ring stopped pulsating.
"That is true, Earthling. Do you want to negotiate for peace? How do you intend to pay?"
Walters nodded again and the Grey mist shrunk to its original size. It continued to shrink while the Red cloud expanded. So did a blue cloud, with the pulsating ring at its centre. The red and the blue cloud met when each filled about half the known universe.
"With an empire, King. We might not make deals with pets, but we make deals with equals." | The Zoom of a warp drive, a measurement of exact strength of a vaccuum, (a tricky thing, measuring vaccuum's within a vaccuum!) heated and shook. A contraption built from scrap metal and crap from the outer rim of this solar system.
Kazim was grateful though. In one of the human's furthest reasing trashcan's there was a golden disk... With just enough gold to transfer a high definition message from one of their space stations...
which of course, Kazim would have to take over quietly, and without giving anything away. Which is why the zoom of the space drive, was rather annoying, when usually be found it an impressive thing.
Then Kazim felt ridiculous. He was worrying about sounds in space.
Though, If they found out the truth about him and defenselessness, or his odd intentions, that would be the end of it.
Hostile, primitive life... *They'd likely want to cut me into pieces*, he thought. He considered the little simians, prying and probing him with their glasses and metal.
He was glad his skin was thicker than the indigenous people's. They would have a harder time cutting him open. Something told him though, this animals specialty wasn't in it's brute force, or sharp tools. (Though they did walk on two legs, instead of the polite four. They are like arrogant savages, compared to Protosimians as far as Kazim was concerned.)
All the more reason not to trust them!
He had his eye on one space station in particular. It seemed to issue commands to other nearby satellites. A whole system Kazim could broadcast from..! Imagine the possibilities.
Again, he was thankful for the golden disc. It had some odd mark's on it. He was pretty impressed that cave dwelling primates managed to send a valuable piece of material like this into space... Though they did graffiti it. None the less. They probably knew about it's high definition capabilities.
Impressive.
Kazim had to give it to them.
Literally. He would need it to transfer his images to their communication devices, and try to take over the planet. He would look like a fool back home if he couldn't handle a species so primitive... And his people would never hear the excuse, of his ship being eaten by a Cthulhu... or that he lost to these sub-protosimians.
Whatever the problem, he couldn't stop now. He had come too far. Faught through too much to be made a fool of.
Everyone back home would know his name, when he offered them a new vacation destination, with a commercially enslaved people to serve them.
When Kazim's trashcan powered Zoom drive pressurized him close enough to the space station, he pulled over a mask on the face of his suit, and exited The pod, drifting to the door.
His suit stuck to it. He banged on the space station.
he waited.
A very alarmed man was screaming inside in a matter of minutes.
Kazim held up a piece of paper. "Tell No One."
For lack of a better word, their faces were incredulous.
It was some time, but they finally let him in.
Some hours later, a message arrived everywhere on earth in all the languages of the people on the station.
Unfortunately, the only language was russian.
"We come in peace. In all the universe only one other species has mastered death and destruction as the human race has. We need your help."
Kazim Imagined that this message would get him taken directly to their leaders, with access to their weapons. But since the messaged arrived only in Russian, to everyone on the planet, most of the world was left with conspiracy theories, and the Russians laughed it off.
| 2015-06-07T05:26:09 | 2015-06-07T03:21:24 | 127 | 33 |
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