prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] A love letter is slipped under your door at your college. It would be cute, but it came from the closet door.
Pulled from the Instagram of @horrophiles. Saw it and wanted to see what would come up. | I was afraid to leave for college. I'd lived in the same house and slept in the same bedroom for my entire life. I'd had a fairly uneventful, happy childhood. Seeing friends and family members go through rough patches in their lives, seeing them go through break-ups, losing a loved one...I just felt so lucky. Too lucky. Like, at any minute karma was going to catch up with me and pay me back for years of avoiding disaster.
My home had always been a safe place and I was never afraid of anything there, but the big wide world was a different story. I'd been to other cities and travelled extensively, but never by myself. My mom and dad were always there for me, but they were often busy working. Sometimes, my uncles would take me out for little mini-breaks here and there when they weren't too busy. We'd go travelling together a lot when I was younger, but growing up made it a little harder to go out together in public. They also had to travel on their company's dime, and I wasn't little anymore, so their boss stopped looking the other way when they used the company card.
None of my friends know about my uncles. Even my parents don't really understand my relationship with them...They'd do anything for me though.
I arrived at my dorm with my parents. They helped me unpack and I hugged them goodbye. I didn't start crying until after they left. I could see them getting into their car from my little window. I waved, but they didn't see me.
That night I had a bad dream, there was a shadow looming over my bed, but then the dream changed and I was comforted by someone stroking my forehead, and a voice singing.
In the morning when I woke up I almost forgot where I was. Far away from the comforts of home; here was a small bed, desk, and a window. There was a closet too, but it was just as drab and ugly as the rest of my room. My old one had flowers painted on it...
I wondered if my uncles would ever come visit me here. I'd left my address, but they didn't exactly have GPS. I cried again, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. Until I saw the piece of paper sticking out from under the closet door.
I dashed out of bed, tears still streaming down my face, and flung open the closet door. Nothing. I unfolded the note.
*"Hey kiddo, we're so proud of you! So glad we found you! Me and your Uncle Mike had to pull a few strings at the office and file a ton of paperwork, but we finally got the right door. We love you so much and we're here for you, always. You've grown into such an amazing young woman. We didn't want to wake you last night before your first day of school, but we'll pop in again soon, I promise. You'll always be our 'Boo.'
Love, Uncle Sully and Uncle Mike."*
| "I just need to get some rest.", I thought to myself after an especially grueling day of classes. Professor Smith threw a quiz at us and I swear I've never seen any of the topics on there, event though I've studied the course meticulously.
And just to add to the stress of the day I got a flat tire at lunch and missed my afternoon courses, now I'll have to find someone to copy notes from. What a day.
As I slipped into the bed I breathed a deep sigh and settled down. I reached to turn off my lamp and saw something move near the closet. A mouse? A shadow?
I decided to investigate and begrudgingly got out of the bed. There was a neatly folded piece of paper in front of the closet, I assumed something I'd dropped from one of my notebooks. I picked it up and unfolded it, "Huh, that's not my writing."
*"You're the cutest boy on campus. I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you out all semester but I've been too shy. I couldn't wait in here any longer, will you go out with me?"*
"Oh, ha! That's cute? I've got a secret admirer! I wonder who it is?", I pondered. "Hold on... 'couldn't wait in here any longer'??? This was slipped under the door, but that's the clos...."
"Oh hell no, fuck that. I'm out.", I said to myself as I bolted out of the dorm. I'll never know who my secret admirer was as I never returned to that creepy-ass room, or the college, or that town. Hell to the no, I'm not messing with that freaky-deaky shit. | 2017-04-11T21:01:16 | 2017-04-11T18:25:22 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You are a completely emotionless psychopath, but instead of killing or manipulating people, you choose to try and make them genuinely happy. |
*Clink, clink, clink.*
The chain clanged and clattered as the stern looking woman with half-moon spectacles dragged it down the staircase, uncaring that the rusty metallic rings tore through paint and wood alike as she passed.
“Oh god,” Sarah whispered, watching as the woman grew ever closer, that damnable chain trailing her like the most horrifying snake in the world.
Jeremy pulled Sarah in close, cradling around her as best he could despite the cuffs that bound the both of them to a support beam that rose from floor to ceiling.
“Welcome,” the stern woman began, eyeing the both of them like they were roaches, “to couples therapy. My name is Ms Andrews, and I *will make you happy together.*”
She spoke the words not as a goal, or even a promise—but as a truth, one writ into the very fabric of the universe.
“This is the Silence Chain,” Ms Andrews said, holding it up as if her coupled prisoners weren’t already far too aware of the deadly looking thing. “When it is around your neck, you will be silent. This is to ensure your…”—she paused to smirk—“’Better half’ cannot drown out what needs to be said. Are there any questions?”
Jeremy gaped at the woman, and even Sarah seemed stunned, if only for a moment.
“You’re insane!” Sarah cried out, wincing as she jostled her sore wrists against the shackles. “You can’t—”
Quicker than thought, Ms Andrews leaped forwards and Sarah’s words were cut off by a shriek that rapidly faded to gasping and gagging, on account of the heavy chain that had been wrapped around her throat.
“See?” Ms Andrews said, “Silence Chain. It’s so much easier to communicate, I find, when one of you can’t. Now, you…” the woman trailed off. “What was your name?”
“J-Jeremy. Please, let her go, you’re killing her… let, let both of us go, please—”
Ms Andrews drew out a long bladed knife from *somewhere*, and held it against Jeremy’s throat.
“None of that begging now Jeremy,” she ordered. “It doesn’t help. What *will* help, is if you talk to your wife, and let her know how you *really feel*. Let’s start with something simple, but important. Jeremy, tell her something that you find infuriating. Something that Sarah does that really gets on your nerves. And remember, she doesn’t get to breath until I’m satisfied.”
“Um… I…”
Jeremy looked into his wife’s eyes, and saw the desperation in them.
“She talks too much!” he finally shouted out. “Ok? She uses, way, *way* too many words to express a single fucking point. Is that you want you sick bitch?”
“Good,” Ms Andrews commented, withdrawing the knife and loosening the chains around Sarah’s neck.
Then, with the same lightening quick speed from before, she gripped Jeremy by the hair, jerking him up and began strangling him with the metal made warm by his wife’s neck.
“Your turn,” Ms Andrews said, pointing to Sarah—who was still gasping for air—with the knife. “Speak aloud something about Jeremy that rubs you the wrong way.”
“I… I…” she was trying to speak, but terror and all-too-recent lack of oxygen made the words hard to voice.
“He… Doesn’t… listen…” she finally managed to wheeze out. “He just nods, says he… understands, and then… nothing. He just says whatever he thinks will shut me up.”
Ms Andrews loosened the chain, allowing Jeremy to respond.
“Because… nothing… else… will! Christ Sarah, I mean, you know I love you but *Christ*, I don’t need a fifty page dissertation how annoying the printer is at your work. I get it! Everyone gets it! Printers suck, *we know.*”
“Then *tell me*. Ever think our conversations seem so one-sided because you never bother to take a side? Man up and *talk to me*.”
“That’ll just piss you off!”
“Not as much as you lying about listening to me!”
Ms Andrews smiled, listening to the couple bicker and argue. This was the first step, perhaps the most important. She left them, unsurprised to see they barely even noticed her leave, and went to get her plyers, the ones she used for *teeth*.
They would love each other again, whether it took an hour, a month, or a year. She knew this.
She did wonder, however, how much of them would be left to feel that love, that happiness.
More than the last two, she hoped.
---
[/r/ElstabbosArchive](https://www.reddit.com/r/ElstabbosArchive/) | I set my card on the counter and slid it up to the cashier.
"I hope you found everything okay with your meal!" he said with a smile, taking hold of my card without looking at it. He maintained eye-contact as he swiped the card and handed it back to me.
"Yes," I said, dully.
"That's good to hear," he nodded affably.
"I'd like to cover everyone else's meal as well," I said, sliding the card back to him after he handed me my receipt.
"Haha, good one! I'm hoping you come back again with an attitude like that," he said, his smile broadening good-naturedly.
I tapped the card again.
"I'd like to pay for everyone, please," I said, a little more emphatically.
He stopped on a chuckle, then looked at me concerned.
"Sir, that would cost you--" he looked around the restaurant. Every seat was taken. "Thousands of dollars!" he said.
"Yes," I nodded, unphased.
"Are you sure you--"
"I literally could not care less about the thought of consequences. I'm paying for everyone's meal. And tipping, too. 30% each," I declared.
His eyes grew wide and his eyebrows wiggled with uncertainty.
"30 percent!?" he said, unable to keep his voice low anymore.
"Fine, 40. But I'm not going higher than that," I said, throwing the card into his chest. He caught it, baffled.
"Sir, I can't--"
"You *can* and you *will*," I said menacingly. "Swipe the card."
"But--"
"Swipe. The Card." I said through grit teeth.
He looked between me and the card a handful of times. He was hesitating. I hated that. He opened his mouth to protest once more, but I started talking before he did,
"Listen here you little wrinkle nosed, bucktooth child. I am not leaving your pathetic establishment until you've swiped that card and charged it close to $10,000 worth of meals for the sad patrons at this restaurant. You will swipe it one by one as you cover the debt owed by each one and end this transaction with a smile. *After* you do this, you will never mention this interaction to another soul so long as you live, or you'll have to deal with me again. If this is me when I'm satisfied by a meal, you want me to come back to you when I'm upset about you doing something stupid to abide by a miserably inadequate sense of morality and trying to protect me from my own finances? Huh? Do you??" I yelled.
He shook his head vigorously, swallowing hard. A couple of people sitting around the register turned their heads but didn't pay us any mind besides that.
"Pay the bills so I can be on my way," I hissed.
He nodded slightly and swiped the card dozens of times, checking out and covering the tabs of all who sat and ordered inside. Sweat crept across his forehead as he got to the last few transactions.
"Th-- thank you," he stammered, holding the card out to me.
"And the smile?" I asked.
He startled, and then forced a wide, terrified smile, showing no teeth. I nodded, accepting his measly attempt.
"Sorry about all that. I know waiters get disrespected a lot more than they ought to," I said deadpan. He looked even more confused as I turned around and left the building, heading to the town's homeless shelter.
_________________________________________
For more, come and check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2019-08-01T22:25:38 | 2019-08-01T22:23:41 | 48 | 28 |
[WP] The new generation of vampire has discovered that just by taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, they’re feeling fine without drinking human blood | I was only 147 when my parents were taken from me.
Even after all this time I remember it clearly. The screaming, the fire, the mob.
The world was so different then. Electricity hadn’t been harnessed, there was no television.
I lived in the shadows for centuries. I found others like me and we’d help each other for a time. It was never safe to stay together for long or gather too many of us. The ones hunting us would burn down a whole city if they found enough of us in one place.
It was after Chicago that I set off alone again. It was partially due to safety concerns, but in 150 years I still haven’t found another vampire in America.
The only upside of my condition is that my personal resources are at a scale few will ever realize or comprehend. I have no board of directors, no shareholders, and no considerations other than completing my goals.
I invested. 60 teams in 17 countries working on my problem since before the First World War.
None of them know the full scope of what they’re working on or why, and I’m sure that’s slowed them down more than s little.
I’ve got the time though, and the money.
They finished sequencing the genome in 2010, and things have accelerated since then.
I first saw daylight in 2020. Such irony. I walked around without fear while others cowered at home. It was another year before I could make synthetic blood pure enough to sustain me.
It will never replace the thrill and rush of stalking and pouncing on living prey, but I can subsist on it for years.
With my supplements I’ve been able to do something no vampire has ever done before, let myself become well known.
I know those who hunt me are still out there. I know how they find us. They look for certain patterns of crime, and families and estates that persist through the ages.
My private jet and corporate structure has kept me ahead of them as I feed for the past few decades, but now I’m seen in the day, and there are no telltale killings in my wake. I can’t possibly be a vampire.
Once I kick off my presidential campaign I’ll be far above suspicion, constantly on the move, and in a position to do more for my kind than any that came before me.
That’s a challenge for the future though. For now my focus is on creation. It’s hard enough for one vampire to sustain himself and avoid detection for this long. I’d dared not give my gift to another lest we attract too much attention.
Now though, now we can bide our time. Position our chess pieces. We can be seen in the sun, go for months and years without taking a human life due to necessity.
The people alive today won’t see it, but the future of Earth will be very different. We won’t have to hide much longer. | The synthetic supplements seemed the only option – a way to keep our deadly cravings outlaid. And so it was. For a time, the plan worked, we kept ourselves healthy, got what we wanted and our appetites kept in check.
It was then that I started to unravel. Physically I was stronger – stronger than ever before. I felt like I could fly if I wanted to – that I barely had to try to be powerful. But then something started to change. I noticed a darkness come over me and my thoughts started to become darker and darker. I hardly recognized myself and I just knew the supplements were to blame. I felt invincible and truly, truly sinister.
The next few weeks were a haze. I found myself indulging in activities I never thought I would partake in. People started to go missing and I'd find myself lurking in places I'd never been before – places of death and destruction. I just wanted to get away – away from my own mind and the darkness I'd created. But it seemed I had no control over it. My addiction was back in full force – the need to consume human blood was pressing. I couldn't help it and eventually I had to give in.
As much as I tried my plan had failed and I had become my own worst enemy. The people around me didn't understand. I was a killer – a vampire with an unstoppable hunger for blood. There was no turning back.
My life has become an endless cycle of guilt, death and destruction. And as for the ending? There is none. Just an endless loop in which I’ll never be free from my bloodlust. | 2022-12-04T10:11:57 | 2022-12-04T09:56:46 | 193 | 11 |
[WP] Kidnapped by an alien scout party, you are taken back to their ship. Aware your answers will be used to assist in their invasion, you try to lie but fail. They are somehow forcing you to speak the truth, so you do the only thing you can: Tell the truth in as disturbing a manner as possible... | "So, tell me," the Commander said, "what are humans vulnerable to? How can we hurt and dishearten them?"
I took a deep breath, and swallowed. "That depends, really."
"How so?" I could hear the sneer, even if I couldn't see it.
"Well, we're vulnerable to radiation, for one. It can burn and disfigure us. But many of us choose to expose ourselves to solar radiation for fun. Many find it soothing."
I couldn't tell for sure, but the Commander looked confused. Good.
"Falling is another one. But so many people enjoy it that we've created numerous ways to do it without dying."
"Torture, then!" the alien cried, a cicada-like buzz rattling in the back of his throat. "Beatings, whippings, humiliation."
I snickered. "Oh, boy. Yeah, a lot of us really, *really* like that," -he definitely looked confused now, there was no mistaking it- "We've included it in our mating practices."
And now it was disgust. I'd the Commander had a nose, it would be wrinkled. "We're done here," he said angrily. "Take him away."
One of the other aliens grabbed the end next the table I was strapped on, and wheeled me towards the door. I couldn't believe it. It had worked. I had been completely factual, and not told them anything they could use. Laughter, the sound of pure joy and victory, began to bubble in my chest, finally breaking free and reaching a crescendo.
"You'll never win! One of us put a jar in his ass FOR FUN! There is nothing you can do to us that we won't co-opt or fetishize! We've already won and turned you into a Netflix original, and you don't even know it!"
As the door closed, I heard the Commander spit something in his native language. I didn't know the word, but I knew the tone.
"**Fuck**." | “What’s the scariest things your planet has created ” The aliens questioned. Though i wanted to tell them we had deadly laser guns, the words began to stick in my mouth so I said the only thing that came to mind.
“The Death Star! It is a metal sphere that blows up planets! And even when humans destroyed it a small team built another!” As they returned me home I showed them my copy of Star Wars. This seemed to scare them off, Thought I was incapable of lying I was perfectly able to lie by omission. Though the death star and the planets destroyed were only models, the aliens couldn’t tell. And even if they did see Luke destroyed it, gorge Lucas did too, just on a smaller scale! | 2018-10-14T06:07:24 | 2018-10-14T03:28:33 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] In a world where everyone has a super power, describe the people working at a fast food resteraunt. | I circled around town looking for a place to eat. It was a little hard to get my bearings looking down on the city from this vantage point - it was familiar, yet altogether different. It struck me how small it all looked from up here.
The joy and newness of flying hadn't yet washed off, but it had suddenly hit me just how hungry I was. I had been flying as much as I was allowed for the past 48 hours, only touching down occasionally to check in with my parents, and to watch the news and try to get a sense for what was happening.
The news anchors were baffled. Everyone agreed that something happened two days ago, but what exactly had happened was yet unknown. Whatever it was, the end result was that people the world over suddenly had...abilities. Some were calling them super powers, and to be fair, it felt like I was living out a comic book fantasy as I banked left and made another turn.
Was it a miracle? A disaster? A new stage in evolution? Or was it a sign of the end times? No one could agree, but there was a growing consensus that these new abilities were no accident. For many people, their new gifts seemed directly linked to their daily lives. My father fit the narrative. As an accountant for the past 30 years, he'd woken up 2 days ago as a human calculator. He said the numbers were like puzzle pieces in his mind, and they just sort of fit together.
If it was true that these new abilities were somehow linked to what people did the most, then it was the first time in my life that being the outcast worked to my advantage. I'd been spending my lunch breaks in the library reading superman comics by myself since as far back as elementary school. If my sudden gift of flight was compensation for the years of loneliness, well it was more than worth it now.
Just then I saw what I was looking for - two golden arches. McDonald's would do. As both feet padded down gently in the parking lot I plodded towards the door. I felt heavy and slow. Walking just seemed so inefficient now, and as the adrenaline wore off it hit me just how tired and hungry I was.
As I approached the counter I noticed the line was moving impressively fast. Suddenly the man in front of me scurried to the left looking thoroughly confused.
"NEXT!" The lady at the counter screamed not bothering to look at me. I took a few steps towards her and scanned the menu.
"Um. I guess..." I started
"COMBO NUMBER 1 WITH A DR. PEPPER!" She shouted at the back. "Pay over there." She pointed to the left.
I stood there for a moment baffled.
"NEXT!" She yelled over my head.
"How did you...oh my god...can you read minds?!"
Her face was placid. "Only works with burgers and fries." "NEXT!"
I shuffled to the left out of the way as a short, fat man dressed in a rich suit waddled up to take my spot. Before he could say anything, the lady behind the counter shouted, "5 BIG MACS! EXTRA SAUCE!" "I didn't want..." the man started. "Yes you did," she cut him off. "NEXT!" Embarrassed, he hung his head and waddled towards me.
"That'll be $6.43," a sweet voice said from behind the cash register. I reached down to grab my wallet and for the first time realized my pocket was empty. In a panic I started patting my jeans all over, but I knew it was to no avail.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "I think I forgot my wallet. You can cancel my order."
"It's alright kid. I've got you covered." The fat man opened a very expensive looking wallet, but it was clearly empty. Before I could tell him it was okay a $100 bill suddenly appeared in the wallet. He handed it to the cashier.
At the same time a register over a man was paying for his family. "Hey honey," he said to his wife. "Did you take some money out of my wallet this morning?"
"No. Why?" She replied as she scooped up her youngest child in her arms.
"I think I'm missing $100."
I looked at the rich fat man incredulously. "How did you..."
As he hauled his 5 Big Macs into his arms he gave me a wink, "I'm an attorney." Then he hurried out the door.
The lady behind the counter yelled again, "NEXT!" | "That'll be three seventy-five."
The customer looks at me. I can see the pity in his eyes as he hands over a five dollar bill. I look down into the till, and by the time I look up he's already gone. I pocket the change with a sigh. Super-duper.
"A double Double: extra cheese, extra bacon, extra large cola, extra side of fries." This guy's huge, gargantuan even. The muscles literally ripple across his chest as he lowers his arm from pointing, pectorals oscillating over one-another like a percussion boom. I don't like to make assumptions, but I guess this guy is Super-Strong. Maybe he's Super-Smart and he just works out, who knows, but what's the point in working-out when any of the Super-Strong can out-lift you without breaking a sweat.
Super-unsweatiness. That'd be a great one. I wonder if it exists as I punch in the meathead's order. The price is $14.59. Maybe I'll get lucky here, maybe I won't. I turn to the service-counter and bag him. The guy hands me a couple of a couple of notes; a $20 and a $10.
Definitely not Super-smart. I sigh.
A couple of twin girls order identical meals for $4.99. I think they're super-sexy, but say nothing. One holds her breath and changes the colour of her hair to gold. I prefer brunettes and so give a half-smile to her sister. I can see the pity in her eyes. I take their money. I bag their food. I sigh.
A group are larking about. Their order takes for ever. One kid keeps popping in and out of existence, refusing to decide on his choice; another keeps teleporting into the kitchen and shouting out abuse about the lack of cleanliness. I fucking hate these people. Eventually, they order, I take their money, I bag their food. In my head I visualise an image of myself as super-cool, super-popular, super-anything. I visualise myself moving at super-speed punching these super-douche-bags super-hard, kissing the girls super-sweetly, saving the world super-nonchalent.
None of these things happen. Instead one of the diners eating-in looks up from his salad, and stares at me for a few seconds. A telepath probably. I can see the pity in his eyes as he observes my pathetic fantasies. I can't take it anymore, and my pockets are full, so I take a five minute break. I don't even smoke.
Hours later, my shift ends and I slop-down. I go home at a normal speed and in a normal way to my normal flat. I triple-lock the door and head into the lounge. I empty my pockets. It's been a good day. I pull out handfuls of change - dimes, nickels, pennies. I even have a few bills thanks to the meat-head dumbass. Today was a good day but I need to do better. I total up the money and write a small figure in my ledger: I have a long way to go.
Late into the night I sit and practise my super-power. It's pitiful. | 2014-09-24T05:53:38 | 2014-09-24T05:18:06 | 83 | 21 |
[WP] You are a Mary Sue/Marty Stu. Thing is: you really don't want to be. As such you have taken to increasingly absurd plots to make people in your world hate you, which in turn, causes them to use increasingly insane logic to justify why you're great. | Ever since I was a child, I've always been written off by the people around me as a prodigy. Getting good grades without even trying, making friends on a whim, getting accolades by just doing what in my mind was "whatever everyone else is doing."
And then I went to college. Thinking I was on top of my game. Thinking I deserved to be here, at the most prestigious college my country has to offer. And as I went through the first semester, it dawned on me. I wasn't like the other creams of the crop. The people around me poured their hearts out trying to even get a passing grade, while here I was, bored as hell, my only problem being that I didn't know which meal I wanted to order at the restaurant nearby.
People always knew me as the guy who didn't stress over academics, but got by anyway. In time, I started believing this as well. Boy, was I wrong.
I failed test after test, subject after subject. And STILL people saw me as someone who was smart and capable. It created a terrible habit in me to satiate their views of me; as much as I hated being seen for more than I was, I was enamored by the idea that I was still above them. That the cum laudes-to-be would still look to me as someone they were trying to be.
It came to a point where I was at the brink of expulsion due to my grades. The way my peers saw me did not change. They somehow think that I've been slacking off on purpose, because I apparently "saw no challenge in college, and therefore had no reason to try hard yet."
Except by that point I was already trying to do well. But I was still failing, because all my years of developing the habit of not studying and still edging out the competition had come through, and now I quite literally do not know how to study. Or do any hard work and have it pay off, for that matter.
My family saw how badly I was doing in my school and were, understandably, shaken."How could this be? You did so well in highschool. You were the top of your class as a kid. You were shaping up to be more talented than your siblings. You're so special. Please, tell us if anything is bothering you."
I sat there, motionless.
"Is it because of the people at school are bullying you?"
They weren't. In fact, the Earth would probably have turned inside out, and still, no one would ever think to bully me.
I said nothing to my parents, though. Only saving these thoughts for myself.
"Have you been in bad company? Have your friends been inviting you to do bad things?"
I wasn't in bad company. In fact, I very well may have been the worst influence out of all of the people around me at school.
"Do you want to switch courses? We want you to understand that no matter what you do in life, we know that you'll do great. We'll always be proud of you."
Still reticent, it was at this moment that I started hating how I was. How I am. I knew I couldn't live up to what the world thought of me, even if I tried.
I hate that the world would rather blame itself for my shortcomings. I wish that it would just see me for what I am. Someone who is vulnerable to failure.
I'm not the prodigy the people around me think I am. I don't have half the potential they think I do.
I wish that the world would just finally see me as a failure, so that I for once, can get the help I need to get my shit together.
*The world could never get mad at me, and so I am burdened by the though that I, in turn, am a huge disappointment to it.* | What would you do if you could have everything you could ever want, forever and ever? How long would it take for you to get bored? How long would it take for you to stop believing the praise you are getting from everyone you know? How would you feel if you can't seem to fail at anything, no matter what you do?
For me, it took a long time to realize anything was... off. After all, it's all I have (or rather had) known. I've had a lot of adventures, but as I went on more adventures and got more and more powerful, I kept feeling like... it was wrong somehow. And over time this feeling kept getting worse and worse.
And then... the illusion completely broke. I don't how I could convey how I felt after finding out with the same impact it had on me. The loneliness of knowing that I am the only one in this world that is the 'most' real one. The existential dread of knowing that I'm just a character and that, no matter what I did it wouldn't matter anyway. The fear of knowing that everything you've ever done, the people you've known and the whole reality are all lies. The sorrow of knowing that I could stop existing any minute when my 'creator' decided that they were done with me. For the first time in my life, I felt powerless. Because even though I know that I'm a character, I'm stuck and can't do anything about it.
Not that I didn't give my honest effort to escape my reality or to change the situation I was in mind you. Trying to escape did little more than this reality trying to make me fall for the illusion again. And no matter the actions I did to change this reality, it didn't work. Even with all the powers I had I couldn't change the fundamental rules of this reality. No surprise really, seeing that I'm the center of this reality.
After a while I just gave up trying. And with all those failures and the knowledge I gained I did the most horrific things as a last-ditch effort. I had the hope that maybe, just maybe I could make other 'people' see what this reality was. But no matter what unspeakable acts I did... I was praised for it, the 'people' around me justified my actions and I was never hated by anyone for the things I did...
And now... everything has come to an end. Everything is gone, except for me. I don't know why I am the only thing that remains within this void of nothingness. I just hope that, eventually, my existence will end as well. | 2021-08-17T16:03:04 | 2021-08-17T12:17:12 | 218 | 72 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with. | I didn't see the car coming. It was dark, they were driving too fast. Pretty sure there was alcohol involved but that's besides the point. What's done is done. I died and that's it. It's not so bad once you get used to it. The world looks the same, albeit slightly more boring than it was when I was alive. When you're on the outside of it things seem a lot less important.
I'm pretty sure I had been dead for maybe a day or two when it hit me: I'm still here. Something tells me I shouldn't be here anymore. I feel like I'm being pulled somewhere but I'm being weighed down. It's an odd feeling to explain. Imagine you're swimming in the ocean and you're just treading water but the tide is tugging you further into the ocean. You know you're being pulled but you're not seeing drastic changes around you. It's kind of like that. I was about to let the current pull me out into the deep ocean but it just felt wrong. The current didn't stop but I was overcome with the inexorable need to fight it. I needed to get something done before I could float along. I needed to make sure it was taken care of... But how?
I remembered where it could be found. It sat carefully inside of it's box on top of my dresser. It had to be delivered. I couldn't leave until it was done. If I didn't it would only cause trouble for my family if they found it later. I didn't want that. Now, how do I get it taken care of?
I struggled against my memory. Memories still work in the same way they did when you were alive. It's just that the conveyance of it is a little more complex. Rather than simply picturing vague recollections of events in your mind you'll instead find yourself reliving blurry, vague and constantly fluctuating recreations of events which play out like a low budget stage play where the audience is the main character. I relived my wedding, the birth of my son, mundane daily events and work meetings. Then I found my answer! My niece would always talk about how she "had the gift" and would frequently hold seances in her attic. It always seemed so farfetched but she was my only option.
Without warning I found myself in her attic. I couldn't tell whether I was in a memory or not. Everything was so confusing but I did see her. She sat at her circular table with her Ouija board. She was calling out to someone. I'm pretty sure it was Elvis Presley... Or Costello. It was some musician. In any case, I grabbed her table and forced the following words to be spelled:
Uncle. House. Box. Dresser. Seal. Deliver.
She seemed convinced by this display and left immediately to me home. I followed her making sure to listen to what she was saying. She seemed annoyed. I think she would have preferred to talk more but this had to be done for me to get peace.
When she got to my home I watched her enter my room and find the box. She sealed it, picked it up and delivered it to the UPS store just in time.
I felt the current grow stronger and pull me deeper into the ocean. I didn't fight it. I knew that once the box reached its destination it would make things easier for my family.
Amazon's return policy doesn't exactly expire when you do after all. | I sigh as I glance at the run down neon sign in the window. I mean, I would sigh if it actually did something. I'm a ghost so I don't really need to breathe but I'm getting sidetracked. Story of my life...and afterlife apparently.
The sign blinks and buzzes a little more than normal as I phase through it and the dirty window it's behind. The woman sitting at the desk looks up from her phone and stares right at my floating form.
"What the actual FUCK?!?" she says dropping her phone and scrambling out of the chair. She's a lot younger than most of these mediums I've gone to, trying to fix my problem. Maybe this one will actually get it done.
"Whoa, slow down there turbo. Obviously you can see me, which is a good thing. It means you can help me."
"Help you? What the hell are you? Is this some sort of goddamn prank?" she replies inching along the wall trying to put as much distance between me and her.
Another ghost sigh from me, "I'm an honest to gods ghost. A shade, wraith, phantom, specter, whatever the hell you wanna use. I have," I throw up the ol' ghost air quotes, "unfinished business and can't move to what's next til it's done. It's all really fucking cliche and I fucking hate it but hey, apparently those are the rules."
She stops moving away and tilts her head. Awesome, she's intrigued. This might actually work this time.
"What kind of unfinished business? Find your killer? Expose a family secret? Oh! Tell your significant other you'll love them forever and be there with them always?!? That's so romantic!!"
"Uhhhh no. None of that. And I never had a significant other which I guess in a weird way is tied to what I need your help with."
"So what then?"
I look down at the floor and grab the back of my neck. This is usually where it all goes south. I look up and try and give her my best puppy dog eyes. Fuck this is embarrassing still.
"I need you to find my laptop and delete my browser history." | 2022-07-15T12:19:09 | 2022-07-15T09:55:01 | 524 | 142 |
[WP] (credit to /u/Arandmoor) I'm tired of fantasy where Elves are 'better than you' just because they're elves. Give me some sword & sorcery, fantasy-style, where typical elder fantasy races learn why it's not wise to mess with 'mere' humans. | An elf coughed. Another taped his figures intensively. The hall echoed with the taps of fingers on wood.
Around a wooden table the three elven figures waited. Small candle nubs dribbled as the light of their wicks burned bright.
The old voice of Estenchon creaked, “Did they not get the summons?"
The tapping stopped.
The youngest elf known as Gat sang, "The summons you wonder if they had get, why the real question is are they... "
"Silence,"shouted Ingemdis.
"I’m sorry my lady, no offence, I only wanted to say one word ...dead."
"Foolish child, that’s bad luck "complained Estenchon," Who gave you the right to sit on the council of elders."
"Most of my clan has now died for war” said Gat “being the oldest one left now makes me question what we fight for”.
There was no sound. Estenchon started to stare at the empty seats. A hundred years ago, before the war, the nine Elven elders sat amongst throngs of people listening to music while sipping on the choicest wines as they discussed matters of politics. Today the contrast was easily seen. Water instead of cups of wine, empty halls and meetings in darkness. He vowed that the humans will rue the day.
“Should have been simple,” said Estenchon,” They did not even know magic.”
"They learned," said Ingemdis.
“Still the amount of magic they called upon is nothing then a drop compare to us”
“All they need to is use a drop to kill us”
“Yes, but we are longed lived”
“Pointless if we die early.”
“We outnumbered them. “
“But not now.”
“Nonsense women, you speak out of touched,” yelled Estenchon.
“It is you who is out of touch old man,” responded Ingemdis.
“Enough you damned freaks,” shouted Gat,” both of you, explain your piece”
“Gladly” said Estenchon,” Battle hardened elven warriors, practiced elven mages, means we are winning”
“Look around,” said Ingemdis, “we have lost.”
“Estenchon, let me speak plainly,” said Gat,” how long does it take an elf to become a warrior.”
“Fifty years.”
“So elves can be born and then taught to fight in 50 years.”
“No, they are usually taught when they mature at the age of a hundred and fifty.”
“Good , so about two hundred years… give or take. Now how long does it take for a human to become a warrior.”
“Fifty. “
“Wrong twenty,” corrected Gat,” Now Ingemdis, a question, what does this mean?”
“They can have ten generations before we can have one,” answered Ingemdis.
“I can find that hard to believe,” said Estenchon.
“And that’s why you still think we are winning this war,” said Gat.
| "Why human?" Elder Sakhalev asked to the war council.
"Humans are weak, not physically strong like Orcs nor technologically advanced like the Dwarves, nor magically reinforced like the Goblins. Humans are essentially a low-hanging fruit ripe for picking." General Atgentes, the leader of Elven Incursion answered after sheathing her blade.
"You would be wise not to underestimate the humans. There are reasons why they stands as our equal in Five World Alliance." Murmurs could be heard from the war council.
"Three hundred years ago, maybe. Right now, humanity is just a barbarian race without distinct magical, physical nor technological advancements."
"Those in favor on invading humans?" Only Elder Sakhalev and two others didn't raise their hands.
It was carnage.
True, humanity has no giant cannons that made the Dwarves formidable, nor the magical fortification that renders the Goblins invulnerable, but their armies pushed us back regardless.
General Atgentes crossed her sword with a human soldier, magical explosion made the surrounding air heats beyond hospitable. And yet the human soldier recklessly slashed her armor, skillfully dodging the explosions while their mithrill swords shattered her armor pieces.
"Have you seen the power of humanity, Elven scum."
"Tch, mithrill, the metal of the legends. No wonder humanity could survive this long."
"You made a fundamental mistake there, miss General." The soldier shattered her blade "Us human survived not because our affinity to mithrill." before burying his own to her heart.
Her consciousness fading, General Atgentes vaguely heard the soldier speaking. "It was because our ability to unite the Five Worlds that we're able to wield mithrill in the first place." | 2016-12-23T00:08:07 | 2016-12-22T23:33:27 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "Number 100. Please approach."
I strode purposefully into the center of the dimly lit gymnasium, tentatively eyeing the other God-Candidates as I passed.
Though the room lay silent, save the dull hum of the flickering halogen lamps which swayed dangerously side-to-side, the tension was so palpable as to be deafening.
They watched me approach the Speaker.
"What gift do you desire, Number 100?" He was the most average man imaginable, in terms of height, weight, build, and general looks. His race was ambiguous, and it could be said that absolutely nothing about him stood out.
But this in itself, was the most unsettling thing about him.
The slightest smile played upon my lips, and I ran a finger across the stubble covering my cheek.
"I wish to receive the gift of instantaneous relevant knowledge."
The tension in the room evaporated.
One of the God-Candidates, unable to contain himself, scoffed, while another sneezed. The room was a bit chilly, after all.
The speaker, however, said nothing for a few moments, simply gazing upon me, almost as if taken back. He understood what i'd asked for.
"It is given.", He said.
"Thank you, Speaker." I replied.
Turning around, I found the God-Candidate who had laughed upon hearing my choice.
Number 34.
As one of the earlier numbers, his gift was quite impressive, on paper. He had chosen the ability to regenerate instantly from any physical damage, making him functionally immortal. I yawned heartily, stretching like a cat, as I made my way over to him.
I leaned close, and whispered something into his ear. The smirk he'd been wearing was erased in the space of a few seconds.
Thus satisfied, I nodded to the other God-Candidates and lackadaisically exited the gym.
\*\*\*
Visibly shaken, Carl Riposte, otherwise known as "Number 34", thought to himself about what Number 100 had said to him. He would be thinking about it for a long while. The other God-Candidates talked quietly amongst themselves, already seeking to form alliances and hatch schemes. Carl however, was quiet, pondering the gravity of Number 100's words:
"*You have a pretty nifty talent, Carl. You could regrow an arm, a leg, hell...even a head, if such was necessary. But I wonder...Can you still drown? Well, anyway, be seein' ya Carl*." | The arbiter let out a long sigh and looked past me. We’d been here a while, and it was finally my turn. His voice was tired. “What’ll it be?”
My hands were clammy. I looked up to him, seated on his pedestal, and sighed. I couldn’t think of anything else. “Um… I’m not sure. All the good powers have been taken already.”
“Yes, that’s the point. More glory for higher numbers though, if you make a global conquest.”
“I would’ve said flight or invisibility or telepathy… but I can’t.”
He sighs again. “No. You can’t. Listen, between you and me, you’ve already lost. Just pick something.”
*What would make grown men cry?*
There’s just nothing left.
*What am I most afraid of?*
The unknown? The dark? Dying alone?
Then it hit me. Spiders.
“I’d like the power to turn matter into spiders.”
Scoffs erupt from the others behind me. “What!? She can’t pick that!”
The arbiter raises his voice. “Silence!” He thinks for a moment then chuckles. “I’ll allow it.” | 2022-11-17T13:25:31 | 2022-11-17T09:49:50 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | --start recording--
I give you this message, my child, so that you may learn from our mistakes. I am sorry that I cannot be there to tell you in person, I would wish for nothing more now than to see you grow old enough to understand and cherish the words I have written here. But that will not come to pass. My one solace is to know that you will find safety on the ark, the last of our dynasty.
I have been given only limited space in this message. I am to tell you about the glory of our family, its principles, and its secrets. I will not. I understand this may disappoint you greatly, and for that I am sorry. I hope that in time you will come to understand why I choose to write what I wrote, and come to cherish the freedom it gives you. If it is any comfort, know that I support you no matter what path you choose, save one. Do not follow the same path that led us to our destruction.
I do not know what lies the teachers will have told you on the new homeworld we are sending you, but know this: it was us we called upon ourselves our own demise, by our pride, and our greed.
But, I shall begin at the beginning.
One hundred and fifty-one of our years ago, I do not know how many years that will be on the new homeworld, we learned of a new species being welcomed into the galactic community. As I am sure you know, not even the kinkeepers could hide such plain knowledge; the physics of our universe allow nothing to travel faster than light. To travel the stars, a species must discover the u-tunnels that cross our universe in the seventh and eight dimensions. In ancient times the first ones, understanding that it would be impossible to continually watch the countless worlds orbiting the countless stars of our galaxy, set up the Watchers in the Deep to recognise whenever a new species first enters the u-tunnels. The first ones have long since lost the curiosity that drove them to find others like them, and do little than toast to themselves whenever a new species appears on their radar, and send the new arrival a congratulatory postcard. But to us in the fringes, it is still an important event.
There is no star in the galaxy that has not been claimed by some species or another. And few who have not have blood shed for their conquest or preservation. But do not be fooled. No species needs the endless expanse they claim. The ‘great’ empire we were so proud of was made up of billions of stars that we had not even surveyed, let alone ‘controlled’. Many species that contend themselves with but a hundred systems are many times stronger that the greatest of empires.
But, even so, no species enjoys the experience of some young upstarts appearing in a system that they had claimed through strenuous diplomacy or war.
When the humans appeared right in the middle of the spinward neutral zone with the Trakirii, our greatest rivals, we were sure it would lead to war. Our leaders talked boldly of Trakirii treachery, but in truth they feared them. Why else would we, who sought to conquer without end, who knew it was our being to conquer, allow such a thing as a neutral zone? The great patriotic war of ninety-four double-one clicks was bloodshed without end, no matter what the histories say.
Yet, our leader’s fears did not come to pass that day. For the humans proved themselves silver-tongued, especially for a species so young. They convinced the Trakirii to grant the humans space to expand on the Trakirii side of the neutral zone, and even brokered a deal where in return we were allowed to found a colony on the ‘holy’ tombworld of Tchakara IV, where we fought the greatest battle in our history.
Our leaders were satisfied that they could continue bullying lesser species into handing over uninhabited systems that were nothing more than dots on a star map. But, to their credit, some of us were wiser. They choose to investigate more about who these ‘humans’ were.
We send spies in the guise of diplomats, and began to study their history and character.
We learned that the humans were much older than the average age for a species to achieve u-tunnel technology. Two centuries ago, they had been on the cusp of the discovery, when they were all but driven to extinction. It seemed their scientists had discovered understanding of relativity unusually quickly, which had hampered research into u-tunnel technology till after they had achieved many of the other hallmarks of a spacefaring species: eternal life, advanced AI, fusion energy. Somehow, or so we assumed, this wealth of technology without the guidance of the galactic community led to them destroying themselves. With most of their greatest accomplishments lost, the humans spend centuries rebuilding their world. Leading the species were a small oligarchy of elders, who had been made immortal before the cataclysm and survived its aftermath. They allowed a limited form of democracy, while they held ultimate power behind the scenes. It was they who had been the driving force behind the human’s diplomatic fortitude. We concluded that they were old senile beings, fools who had destroyed themselves and in centuries of rule grown weak and fearful of conflict that could upset their safe opulence.
When, fifty years later, the Slend appeared not far from the human territory, the humans took care of this new species exactly as we expected them too. They negotiated. A second territory was granted to the Slend in the neutral zone, and a second colony to us in compensation. We would joke that if enough species appeared the humans would trick the Trakirii in giving up their own homeworld to us. Our hypernet filled with cartoons of the humans commanding the Trakirii like they were a Slaath trainer in a travelling circus.
We did not notice the way the humans took pity on the Slend, whose world was harsh and dying. The Slend had developed u-tunnel technology to save themselves from their burning world, but knew little of even rudimentary terraforming or sublight space travel. The humans searched the Slend’s territory for the best world for them. Millions of star systems were analysed in one of the greatest survey missions our arm of the galaxy had ever seen. When they’d found the best candidate in their own territory, the humans did not even hesitate to give it up to the Slend. Along with two others in the Slend’s own territory, the humans terraformed the worlds and provided the means for the Slend to move their whole population out. In the Slend migration the humans accomplished feats even the first ones would’ve found challenging. Yet all we saw was weakness, a species afraid of conflict. Had we looked deeper, we could’ve seen strength. We could’ve known what would await us. | Humans had always been respected in the intergalactic society. Not for our scientific breakthroughs, we were actually the last of space capable species to achieve intergalactic travel. We're not respected for our love of things that are beautiful, or creative. No, we're respected for our resolve. Over the last several hundred earth years, there has been great upheaval in our galaxy. The place that Humanity called home was under threat by a species that sought to colonize every planet they deemed worthy.
They came in droves of hundreds of thousands. The human colony on Kepler was the first to be struck by the Beltids. Kepler is a small colony, smaller now than it was. One day was a regular day for the colonists, the farms were being tended, the factories were producing farm equipment. 24 earth hours later, Kepler city was besieged by hundreds of thousands - nay, millions of these demons. They swarmed the farms, killing and destroying everything in their way.
When earth heard over the Interplanetary Communication Line (ICI) that Kepler was under threat, the human mobile militia rallied to the cause. Humanity had enjoyed 700 years of peace, and only a thousand militiamen flocked to the banners. But the United Human Navy brought this handful of brave men and women to the front lines, with enough ammunition for 10 million of these creatures. By the end, the navy brought in another 2 supply drops for the militia. By the end of the Kepler campaign, 16 million, three hundred and 76 thousand, 743 Beltids were killed.
The campaign lasted 3 earth years. From the time that the Beltids set up in the Kepler system, to the time that the militia and the navy forced them out of the system. Then, it was time for humanity to go on the offensive. In those three years, humanity made decades of military progress. We had a cause to rally around. Millions of men and women enlisted. The navy was expanded over a thousand times it's pre war strength. Armies long since disbanded were rallied. Humanity had a united cause, protection of our very way of life.
And so we fought. We waged war for a generation. It was good for humanity, to see galactic warfare. The advances in that time were wondrous. The cost was great, but we soon found out that we were not alone in the fight against the Beltids. We were in a system some 400 light years from earth. Our advance scouts had marked it as a breeding colony for the beltids. They were wrong, it was a prison. When the navy dropped out hyperspeed, they found life forms very different from the Beltids.
They found an ally. The prisoners we found out called themselves the Anzu. They were a peaceful society, dedicated to science and the preservation of life. The Beltids had made quick work of their colonies. They had never fought a war in their recorded history. They hadn't developed a proper melee weapon, let alone the advanced plasma rifles that the 17th Kepler brigade were using. When we realized what it was, we liberated the Anzu. The Anzu were confined to their lone planet, protected with a shield that didn't let the Beltids through.
So we went to Anzu prime, blasted the hundred million or so Beltids into pieces. And so began a friendship the Anzu. We taught them how to fight, and they taught us everything they knew of science. We learned a lot, and took advantage of it right away in the war. We found out that the Anzu were not the only intelligent species fighting the Beltids. They told us of a great many species fighting for their very survival.
So began an eon long confederation. United against a common foe, the Human Alliance and the Anzu began the Galactic Federation. An alliance of life forms, united against all that would seek to destroy us. We fought side by side for another 60 earth years, without hardly a single casualty thanks to the Anzu. We liberated system after system. The Anzu and the other species had been fighting the Beltids long before humanity had even discovered fire. They knew where each other were in the Galaxy.
We finally drove the Beltids from our Galaxy. The Galactic Federation had 37 intelligent species. Peace had finally settled in our Galaxy.Then, suddenly the war was over. A treaty was signed between the Beltids and the Galactic Federation. They were to never return. And like that, all 157 million members of the Human Armed Forces disbanded, and went back to their homes. The fleets were mothballed.
But Humanity now knew Galactic warfare. We had liberated 36 species from the Tyranny of the Beltids. We knew that the Beltids would not be the only threat to life, so even though the soldiers went home, humanity was ever vigilant. Looking for a threat, for we would prefer not to fight, but if our way of life was threatened, or those of an ally in the Federation, we would rally, like we did all those years ago. And this is where we stand today!
We stand at the precipice of another Galactic war! I stand before you in front of the Galactic Congress to beg to issue a formal declaration of war against the Anzu, who have invaded the human colony of Kepler! Humanity will not back down from a fight! Even if the fight is against our longest standing ally! We will not surrender, no matter the cost! Our homes are under threat, but soon, the Anzu will now the wrath of Humanity! | 2016-03-13T18:34:56 | 2016-03-13T17:44:09 | 108 | 20 |
[WP] You have the ability to see heart-strings. You can see the connections that people have with each other. Each connection appears to be a colored line running from one person's heart to another. The colors, thickness, and texture of the line determine the strength and type of connection.
Based off of [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/godtiersuperpowers/comments/nn1e36/you_can_see_heartstrings/) thread, where people keep asking me for a writing prompt. | The day I saw the pink line turn a rusty brown, I knew it was over.
The relationship didn't seem change that drastically, but something was just... off. Small dodges of my hand, forced kisses before work, like when you're not in the mood for something but you have an obligation so you do it anyways. The irritated sighs whenever I try to initiate even just a conversation.
So when the inevitable breakup came 24 days later, my heart had already mourned for the loss. Some may wonder why I didn't try to fix or salvage it, why I just gave up so easily. But while my ability to physically see colored connections between two people can be viewed as inexplainable, confusing, and indescribable, I do know one thing for sure: the strings never lie.
Soon after, the string continued to change, until it was thin and dull grey, signifying that we don't have any sort of connection to each other anymore. Not even the thick black tendril of hate. I'm not sure which would hurt more, to be honest. I only knew that I was in pain.
And for a long time, that pain stayed. It sat in the pit of my stomach like a weight anchoring me down, securing me just out of reach of the hope that dangled above. It lurked in my mind, constantly throwing the once happy memories in my face.
It became what I was used to, and I wore it like my skin.
The many strings that colored my life started to dull. Even the most vibrant ones of my best friends and siblings were losing their color. I knew I had to do something, to stop myself from slipping away from my life completely, but I just couldn't.
Of course, time eventually did its job. Slowly, I was able to feel again. I was able to eat, do work, and fall asleep without staring too long at the ceiling. The motions of each day weren't so insufferable anymore. And so the colors were starting to revive themselves bit by bit.
I watched the strings weave among themselves as people passed me. I used to love to people watch, not for the people themselves, but for the links between them. There's something so beautiful about seeing people connected with all sorts of colorful string. To me, it was a reminder that there are so many different types of love and friendships amongst us. A reminder that us humans are all related in some way, and that we seek for this connection with one another.
A kid zoomed past me, almost knocking over the items on the shelf as he screamed in glee. Behind him, an emerald green string trailed. Its other end was attached to a girl with bouncing pigtails as she chased while laughing. I smiled, remembering how once upon a time, each trip to the grocery store was another adventure for me and my brothers.
The green string tangled with another, a yellow one that meant friendship. A man walked past, carrying some box wine in his hand, bringing the string out of sight with him. I turned away to the shelf of notebooks. My fingers brushed the different covers, feeling both smooth and rough textures as I tried to find a pretty one to make my next journal.
Engrossed, I bumped into someone with their back half angled away from me.
"Oh sorry!"
"No, no, *I'm* sorry!" I said as I turned to face a girl in a black t-shirt and jeans, who ran her hand through her wavy brown hair quickly. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, really. You?" I nodded. The grey string between us thickened just ever so slightly. She glanced at the notebook in my hands. "Oh, that's pretty."
I looked down. "I know, right? Love the blend of this one."
"I totally agree! Don't get why galaxy stuff gets so much hate now. They've always been pretty, mainstream or not, you know?" she said, as I watched the string start to gain color. It was the blue of acquaintances now, which usually occurred when I have a conversation that lasts longer than ten seconds with a stranger.
"Exactly."
There was a small awkward pause as she looked away to stare at the stack of notebooks in front of her. "So... what's it for? Do you write?"
"I do! Well... not like stories or whatever. Just like, my feelings, you know? I think it's important to keep track of this stuff." I wanted to groan at stupidity of my words. Who says that kind of stuff to a stranger?! But she nodded in agreement and the blue line thickened.
"No, yeah. I get it."
"What about you?"
"Oh," she gave a small shy chuckle. "I write a lot of poetry. It's uh..." She paused, as if unsure to continue. "Like my way of expressing myself, I guess."
"I get that. Sounds awesome." I put the galaxy notebook in my basket. "How long have you been writing?"
"Ever since I could pick up a pen, pretty much."
"Damn."
She laughed. "But nah, you wouldn't think it's so awesome if you heard how lame and bad they are." As I moved my head back up, I noticed the string lightening. I smiled inwardly. Apparently making friends while grocery shopping is actually possible.
"Hey, come on now! You can't have not gained anything from so many years of writing, right?" She shook her head and I narrowed my eyes, feeling a small curl forming from my lips. "Well I don't believe you, you're probably not giving yourself enough credit."
She rolled her eyes. "Not true."
"Then let's see it! Show me," I tilted my head, pretending to challenge her. The string continued to lighten and I waited for the bright yellow that resembled sunshine to set in.
"Um... I'm good."
"Why not?"
"Because!"
"Because you know you're wrong and I'm right?"
"Excuse me!" She gave me a playful shove, her hand passing through the slightly shimmering line, indicating that the color transformation was not complete yet. "I just not keen on showing you, how's that?"
"Okay, then I'll just not believe you!"
"Hey!" She rolled her eyes again, but this time with a small smile. The string was yellow now and I smiled for real.
Until I noticed it hadn't stopped changing. I looked at up her suddenly, eyes widening. "What?"
"Um, nothing." I took a moment to regain composure and avert the focus away from my sudden, seemingly random reaction. "So... are you gonna show me?"
"I don't even know you!"
"Okay, then let's get coffee," I blurted out. She looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. Normally, this is where I might start regretting my actions, which would then result in me finding an awkward way to end the interaction.
"Are you serious?"
We both quietened down, neither of us moving. This was the last moment I could opt out of this whole thing. She was just a stranger I quite literally bumped into.
I looked into her eyes and noticed that they were a striking, but calming blue. They were really pretty, I realized. More importantly, they contrasted with the morphing string, which was now becoming a sunset orange. I've never seen any shade of red attached to me before, only pink.
"I am," I said without another moment of hesitation. For a second, I thought she would call me weird and leave, but she didn't.
"Then, what are we waiting for?" We both grinned as she led us out of the aisle.
As I followed her, a small feeling I haven't experienced in a long time started to spread from my chest, like warm butterflies that pulsed with the beat of my heart. I smiled again, and held my head up a little higher, a little closer to the hope above. Because in that moment, I already knew.
The strings never lie.
\---
It's extremely late here so I'll probably edit more the next day, but thanks for reading! Feedback welcome :) If you liked that, feel free to check out my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/thegoodpage) for more!
Edit: finally got around to some editing :) | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 4, Part ?: Jemma v.s. The Snatchers)(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Jemma's eighth-grade science teacher had explained gravity to her like this:** Space was like a great big cloth, and objects dropped on the weave of space-time could distort it. Get a large enough object, and it would form a dent deep enough that nothing that entered it could ever escape. A black hole. Jemma had always wondered what that would look like up close.
As Jemma pondered the distorted heartstrings around her, a part of her idly registered that she didn't have to wonder anymore.
It was a subtle thing, the way the infinite spiderwebs drifted. Like foam circling a drain, languorous at first, then speeding up as they drew closer to the source of the disruption. Jemma ignored the panicked shouts from the hunched-over passerby as she jogged through the trash-strewn streets of Sacrament. She barely saw them, anyway; the heart-strings were getting thicker, hundreds of them converging on a single spot.
She stopped cold inches before she would have bashed her face on a crumbling concrete wall. The remains of some office cubicle. Ever since Mayor Clara had left the city in disgrace, anarchy had reigned in Sacrament. Federal troops had managed to restore some semblance of order during the day—but at night, Jemma huddled in her room, watching purple ichor stain the heart-strings that connected the people of Sacrament.
She'd watched too many strings snap, or dangle loose, one end snuffed from existence. She had to do *something* about what was left of the city.
"Little girl," a voice said behind her, and Jemma spun, eyes wide. An old woman who reeked of smoke gave her a gimlet stare. "Are you lost?"
Jemma shook her head warily. From nothing, a needle-thin line of light connected their hearts, then thickened, forming a tenuous black thread. Animosity. This woman meant her harm. "I know exactly where I'm going," she said. *Admittedly, not what I'll find when I get there,* she mentally added.
"It's not safe for a girl like you to wander out here alone," the woman continued, as if she hadn't heard her. Jemma looked around, but there were no strings between her and the huddled pedestrians—probably just trying to find food for the day, or maybe making their way to one of the overcrowded shelters. "There are people who'd pay good money for kids like you."
"HELP!" Jemma shouted. Thin, ephemeral connections formed between her and everyone in earshot—but they faded after an instant. They were too scared of the woman, and who wouldn't be? Jemma was far from the only person with superpowers—the woman could have held within her the power to level buildings with a wave of her hand. The old woman gave Jemma a gimlet stare and surged forward; Jemma frantically blocked as the woman went for her throat. None of the Federal forces were in sight—Jemma thought frantically. The man on the corner—no, he was practically being pulled along by the golden thread connecting him to his lover; Jemma wasn't overcoming that force. The kid she could sense watching her from the trash heap—ah, he was linked to the old woman, through transparent, shimmering fear. He would be of no help, not unless she could invert that bond. She looked around frantically until she saw what she'd been looking for—a girl whose threads were slowly dissolving from the ends in. Fresh cuts.
"You in the black suit!" she yelled desperately. The girl flinched. "Please! I know you've lost people—I know you're in pain—but you can save someone else from that pain if you *help me*!"
Desperately, Jemma saw a flimsy, silver thread of camaraderie fly from her heart to the girl's.
It landed on her back and phased through her skin.
The girl clenched her fists.
And then she spun around.
"Two for one?" The woman said, turning. "I didn't expeaAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!"
Halfway through the woman's sentence, the little girl struck like a snake, tapping the woman on her arm. What happened next, Jemma barely made sense of—a heartstring colored with stars and galaxies surged from the girl to the woman, striking her skull instead of her head, and vanished in an instant, leaving the woman on the floor, clutching her temples and twitching.
Jemma was far from the only person with superpowers. As it turned out, some of them worked for the good guys too.
Jemma stepped back and gave her savior an appraising look. "...Thank you," she said. "I don't know who you've lost, but..."
"No. Thank *you*," the girl said back. She hesitated, then added, "I shouldn't have needed a... reminder... of what I'd lost, to be moved to help." She held out a hand, and the silver thread between them gleamed. "You can call me Awe."
"Jemma." They shook hands. "What... what did you do to her?"
"Something that won't last long." Awe gave the woman a disdainful look. "Longer for her than for others, but... my power isn't meant to be used as a weapon, not exactly. You said you were going somewhere." Awe pressed her lips together. "I could use someone who knows what they're doing."
"We could use the Mayor back," Jemma muttered.
Awe smiled. "That we could."
"I don't have her, but I have the next best thing. Something's pulling on the heartstrings of everyone in the city." Awe cocked her head curiously at the word 'heartstrings', but made no further comment. "I want to find out what."
"Explain on the move." Awe turned around, leaving the twitching woman behind. "We need to get out of her before she wakes up."
Jemma walked after the girl named Awe, the silver thread between them strengthening with every step.
A.N.
I have returned from my month-long hiatus! This story is short, but that's because I'm still quite exhausted from the event which burnt me out in the first place. "Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-05-28T16:33:20 | 2021-05-28T16:04:22 | 173 | 26 |
[WP] Upon returning home from your job as a security officer, you are assailed by a man dressed in all black. He misses and slices his sword through your car like it's tissue paper. "I am Reaper, Black Blade of the Crimson Edge of the Illuminati. Prepare to --" You shoot him in the face. | *That makes 4 this week.* At least this guy decided to attack me outside. Cleaning up the mess out here was much easier than inside. Do you know how long it takes to get human blood out of exotic carpet that can't be steamed?
Long enough that it was cheaper to replace the entire carpet at $1000 a square foot.
It had been 3 months since my bounty doubled. And while I didn't much care, clearly it was a high enough price that many began trying for it.
Bounty Hunters were often placed on the very lists they worked from. We knew the risk. The Hunter Wars were primarily started as a result of this. Many Bounty Hunters would start trying to either lower their bounty or go into hiding.
I didn't care one iota about this. My mentality about my bounty was different from many others'. The reason?
I am much stronger than my bounty could ever communicate.
I took up this job because I knew I could get rich, not because I was desperate to do so. My decision to become a bounty hunter was to make money, not settle debts. Whatever number they posted for me was never going to instill the proper respect I deserved.
Some Hunters were left alone because of their reputation. Their bounty didn't climb much higher because they were careful to avoid the notariety. But anyone who was anyone knew who the top Hunters were, and avoided them like the plague.
Me? I was top of the list. My bounty was now higher than the next 5 Hunters below me combined. I was never covert.
I was overt. I *wanted* to be pursued. I *wanted* people to attack me. The more hunters that attacked, the less I had to hunt down to turn in.
I ran an ID check on this "Reaper" guy. Fifteen thousand credit bounty alive, five thousand dead. Not the best haul this week, but 5k creds are 5k creds.
I sighed and pulled the body into my car. I had credits to claim. | It didn’t do much, being a security guard, corporations wanted to hire me to harass people as if I was a police officer, but they wouldn’t even give me a taser. And after working with Johnson for ten years? I could see why. So what I had shot him with was effectively fake gun, even if it looked real. I kept it in my car for emergencies, since I didn’t get paid enough to buy a real one.
It was not a surprise to me when I felt a pinch in my neck and saw my vision fall, and then roll down the driveway. I barely processed that I had been beheaded before shuffling off this mortal coil. It was such a shit day too. Illuminati they said? Gods, I fucking hate rich people. What a prick. | 2021-12-03T08:58:49 | 2021-12-03T08:15:24 | 159 | 32 |
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it." | I was in school when it happened. It was just another cold day of winter like any other until a teacher came to our class to inform us we were instructed to go the gym immediately. We didn't know what the hell was going on, just that the president was going to give a speech about the... uh... weird circumstances Canadian airlines had been reporting, apparently all the flights to Canada had to be cancelled today for some reason. So we were instructed to go the gym where the broadcast was going to be shown to everyone.
I remember every single word he said. "People of America, at 2:00 am Eastern Time, all communications with Canada ceased, at 4:00 am our satellite images shown complete darkness on all of the Canadian territory, and at 8:30 am the worst happened, our own territory of Alaska suddenly went silent. The last message we received from them was a request to secure the border and to protect the freedom that our beloved country is founded on. Be assured, we have already deployed the military and we have manage to secure the perimeter of our northern border. May God be with us."
Looking back I can't believe how naive we were to believe that guns could do anything to those things, it's not like the Canadian government hadn't tried that. You see at first, after a couple weeks, when people started appearing in the Canadian side of the border the military thought it was a good sign, they were wrong and soon they learned their mistake. The people that appeared weren't human, they just looked like us, but you see that's just a disguise... it just happened to be one made from human skin.
It was just a matter of a couple months for almost half of the US to fall. But then it just stopped and come summer there were no further sightings of those things... at least on North America. As you may know when is summer it the northern hemisphere it means it's winter in the southern one. And just as it had happened with Canada, Argentina from one day to another just went dark.
It has already been 5 years since day zero. So how we solved the problem you may ask, we simply didn't, we just moved to warmer places. Right now I'm staying in a small City in southern Mexico. But even that didn't solve the problem, every year winter is getting colder and colder, it's just a matter of time for the whole world to be covered in snow, and when that happens I guess is going to be their turn to rule over this unholy world.
Edit: grammar | Canada has gone dark.It happened about 2 weeks ago. No contact from within, no trades, nothing. Just void, emptyness. That is until yesterday, one message sent to anything adjoined to the country."Leave us. Reinforce the border. Never open it." Those words shook us to the core. What could be happening that warrented such a vauge, off-putting message? Officials didn't know what to do. Seal the borders? Investigate? The president came to a conclusion after a week's time. He was broadcast onto the radio, internet, and television with this message: "An election will be held on August 27th, 2019 to decide our move with Canada. Investigate, or prepare? The government is putting the choice to you, the people." A few days went by, and the elections started. Everything was peaceful, until an ear-splitting roar was heard from the border. The border had fallen. Dust flew up in a cloud, blocking any and all vision. Nobody could prepare for what came next. A horde of monsters. Not bloody or gory, but pale, humanoid figures that ripped through the flesh of any living being it could set its hands on like butter. As I type this from the confines of my cellar, I hear a scratch at the door. | 2019-08-25T20:08:06 | 2019-08-25T17:29:24 | 311 | 63 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I sighed, walking out of the bank with my entire 7.27 in hand. I already told my family, my job, my friends...
These sorts of things were common. A small amount was a signal of a short life to live, but even those were usually at least a hundred bucks! Enough to spend at a bar as I mourned my own death...but what could 7.27 get me?!
As I walked down the street, I considered my options. Food? A drink? I almost considered not spending it. Maybe I could prolong my life by not spending it.
I passed by a foodstall. One taco for 2$.
I looked at the money in my hand, considering...
I sigh. Fuck it, I was dead anyway. No point in delaying the inevitable. One cheap taco here and a 7-11 drink from down the road. There have been worse last meals. "One, please." I tell the vendor.
As my taco is being made, I feel a tug on my pants. I look down and see a kid, covered in mud and torn clothing. "Mister," she says. "Can you help please? I'm lost."
Ah...poor kid. "Do you know a number to call?"
"Yes." She answers. I give her my phone, opening up to the call button.
Doesn't particularly matter if she steals it. I'll be dead soon anyways, so I leave her to it as I take my taco. She's talking on the phone, her voice thin and reedy as she talks, close to tears and sitting on the sidewalk curb as she asks for 'Daddy' to come get her. Apparently she wandered away from her her mother and had been walking for about three hours on her own.
Three hours? Poor kid must be starving... I count the money remaining, and ask for one more taco and water. Lucky me, the entire 7.27 pays for two tacos and a bottle of water, plus tax.
I sit on the curb as she hangs up. Wordlessly, I trade her the phone for the taco, and sit with her as we wait, leaving her the cold water to drink. She sits close, using my larger body for shade. She looks sun burnt as hell, so I don't mind.
The police come roaring up with sirens and everything, and shuffle her away. "You the one who found her?" They ask as she talks to the officer, being led into the car.
"Indeed I was." I say, wiping my hands on a tissue paper. "She gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, the father sends his thanks." The police officer says. "Asking for you to be brought in too."
Me? "Why?" I ask.
"There was a reward offered. The girl was kidnapped by her deranged mother for the last two months, the father is a multi-millionare."
My stomach suddenly drops. "...No shit?"
The officer snorts, half laughing. "No shit. You're going to be a very rich person by the end of the day."
And so. I was. That one taco and phone call ended up profiting me about 700k. Sometimes the psychic cheque works out great in weird ways.
She and I are still friends. We go out for tacos every once in a while, she thinks of me like an older sibling and I'm her regular baby sitter. | The battle for a theocracy was a turbulent one and was the cause of the single greatest loss of life since the second world war - dubbed the 10th crusade. Despite this, the battle was won and a new holy land was established. Jerusalem's economy tanked and people flocked to our new country, a holy country. It was wonderful.
Traditional thinking would tell you that society would quickly descend into anarchy as the inevitable disarray takes hold. Traditional thinking would be right was if not for one fundamentally flawed assumption. You see, the rich toiled in their bunkers hoping to wait out the worst of the looting and violence when something unprecedented happened: the government began to work in the best interest of the citizens. It was being run by the single smartest, most powerful entity - through a vessel. An unpleasant side effect of this however, was that no one could ignore the reality that God exists (though not for a lack of trying) and lifestyles had to change in accordance with that fact. It was now no longer just priests that took vows of poverty. On everyone's 18th birthday they are given exactly how much money they need for the rest of their humble lives, none can be borrowed, none can be earned. Whether the drying of funds precipitated or caused death is a hotly debated topic. Regardless, all but the terminally ill could expect a sum totalling in the low tens of thousands at the very least. Enter me.
$7.67. 767 *FUCKING* CENTS. Even with heavy government subsidies, this is not enough for a week - let alone a lifetime, so forgive my French. See, most would think this means that they are about to die, but me, I know I'm fine. I am two weeks from mission and in the 47 years this country has existed *not one person* has died this soon before mission. So what? Is god calling me fat? Angus Barbieri is whole number multiples heavier than me. So I do what every rational man of the cloth does and head to the temple, it's almost time for prayers anyways.
If you guys want more I'll finish this later. I got finals to study for. | 2019-04-24T14:52:39 | 2019-04-24T12:49:46 | 335 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | When Daesh had exploded a bomb right in the middle of the sambodromo, the world was shocked.
Fortunately, nobody was killed, but Rio´s carnaval was destroyed. Brazilians demanded a strong answer from their government, but they had not fought a serious war for at least 150 years, so how to react? How to succeed where warfaring countries had failed?
Well, the answer came from the strangest of the places: Mauro Maravilha, São Paulo´s most famous carnavelesco devised a plan. Destroy Daesh without a single bullet. How? Mulatas, cerveja and, obviously, samba.
Brazilians united into one goal: to become the ultimate propaganda machine that would strike into the heart and mind of the jihadists. With catchy slogans as "Is better a Mulata today then 70 virgins tomorrow", the Daesh recruitment fell to almost nothing in no time.
Then came the bombing. Weird bombs: of pictures of beautifully tanned men and women("lay down your weapons and join the party!"it was written), chilling cold brazilian beer kegs chuted, pandeiros, cavaquinhos, speakers that would blast the best of the best brazilian music 24/7.
And finally, the land invasion. The Samba Brigades were made of such skilled musicians, that no one, I mean, NO ONE, that heard their music could stand still.
But not all is good news for the brazilians. Now is 2020, and Raqqa´s carnaval parade is rumoured to be even greater then Rio´s.
[I know it is not very good! Constructive criticism is very welcomed] | The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***" | 2016-01-29T07:12:39 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] As an immortal, one of the things you hate is visiting museums as almost everything people guess about history is wrong and you can't correct them. You have resorted to online forums and recently found a 'conspiracy theory' thread that seems suspiciously accurate. | I was sitting and listening on the digi forums , it had become a good time waster for me. I so loved the history and ancient relics sections , because well I am one.
I was born in the 20th century , but I was cursed with what I thought was a gift. Given the offer of true immortality but I had to be sent back to the “dawn of man”, a lifetime would be one thing but it took me countless lifetimes just to reach a point of basic civilization , thanks to that curse though I have lived to the year 2400 , I suppose it is now more of a gift but it has made me so bitter for the time I have been around , how many children I have now that have long since died , how many wives now dead , my heart didn’t have much more room to love as I remembered them all so dearly.
I was pulled back to reality by the mention of someone talking about dr who of all things.
“ hey remember that old show from dawn of television , with the time travelling guy , he was some sort of medical professional I think “
Oh please he was called the doctor…. I guess I should help them but I think I will wait a bit longer
“ no no no I watched the recovered relics , he called himself a doctor , he wasn’t actually one , but what’s your point “
“ well I mean it’s kind of related but isn’t , but have you noticed throughout history theirs always tales of some hero warrior who showed up at the right time and saved the day right , have you noticed a lot of his depictions look , well similar? “
Looking at the model she pulled up , it was me clear as day , well atleast how I looked then , I have met my hair go now and grown a nice beard but I still remember my face
“ you know now that you think of it, the 3D shaped projections they made are pretty similar but I mean it’s got to be a coincidence and they looked similar , like your pulling examples from over 2000 years apart”
“ well ya that’s my point , no person could of lived that long , and look after the creation of photography theirs a few photos where someone who looks similar exists , see look at this battle from the Second World War , this guy James Thomas Smith just lucked out finding major ammo dumps to sabotage , got shot 7 times and still somehow survived only to vanish by the end of the war, and here is in one the American wars it seems where he saved a battalion of troops from an ambush , like he almost knew it would happen”
It was true, I do remember using that name , I always kept the same initials , made it easier to keep track of myself throughout history , I wonder if I was always meant to be sent back , that it was a paradox I was the answer to, my deep thoughts were broken by laughter
“ well now you just sound like you need a tin hat , I admit he looks near identical but it isn’t the same person , he looks barely 25 in both these photos and the name is different , it’s James Tiberius Sanderson and theirs…”
“ Hey hold on , those initials are the same , and the hero of Agatha plains , his name was John T. Samson , wait they are all JTS , every single one is JTS”
My eyes widened , never did someone figure that out , not even in the hundreds of years of computers and internet did someone notice it , what was I to do , I was about to be discovered if anyone believed her. I decided I had to distract her so I pivoted to try to get a more in person conversation.
“ you know I like your theories on this samarama645 , maybe we could compare notes sometime? “
“ oh , someone who isn’t just calling me a nut job right away , that’s refreshing , I’d love to “
For the next few weeks I left breadcrumbs in data files to gently steer her to other solutions , she seemed so crushed to find evidence she was wrong , but she was determined , determined more then I had ever seen before , like she had been searching for this her whole life , she barely looked 30 at best , but it was strange , it felt like I had seen her many times before even though this had to be the first.
Weeks turned to months and soon I just felt a connection I had not in 400 years , I couldn’t understand it , what about her was so special , she started sharing more data files with me , we began to have them over coffee and then dinner and well , things just kept going from there.
It all happened so fast , I was married again but I knew after a few years it would be too painful for another lifetime of love to watch perish , so I faked my death to get away never to be seen again.
She mourned for a while , but soon enough I seen her on the hunt for me , or well my past history again , she was so determined , I followed her data trails the best I could but I never went to see her in person again.
80 years passed , a drop in the bucket for me but an entire lifetime for them , I received an alert on my computer , she was allegedly on her death bed, I loved her and to know she was dying pained me greatly , I decided that against my better judgement I would go to see her one last time.
When I arrived at the medical facility , she was easy to find , this 110 year old frail woman looked nothing like I remembered , my memories didn’t age sadly just like me , she was in a medically induced coma , they didn’t expect her to last another day. I sat beside her and gave her a kiss on the forehead and cried , I held her hand and confessed that I was that person she was hunting the data files for, that I purposefully led her away from finding me.
“ I knew it” a voice I recognized chimed from behind me. It was her, her as I remember her , she was still young. I finally connected the dots , why she had been trying so hard to hunt me down , someone who seemed to have lived so long , because , she was like me , cursed with immortality.
Her face changed from anger to tears “ why didn’t you just tell me the truth , didn’t you recognize me? I’ve been trying to find you since the Middle Ages but I’ve always been two steps behind”
Now I remembered , when I first met her she was familiar , like I had seen her before , it was because I had , at the fruit stands of Venice , to the sandy beaches of Norway with the Vikings. I had met her dozens of times but we had never connected , I was always just about to disappear so it didn’t seem I lived so long in one place as soon as she showed up. Tears started to fill my eyes as I realized , I could only help but blurt it out “ I always thought I was cursed to be alone”
That day , that day I was born anew. It’s still so vivid in our memories, even to this day. We are celebrating our 450th anniversary together now. Well I mean our “10th” anniversary as we tell everyone else. We have been travelling the galaxy together , stellar distances are great to keep our identity a secret , we’re just a happy young couple that decided to join the colonization missions as we slowly hopscotch around every 150 years. And we both can say , we will be happy until the last star burns out | "A true masterpiece, this painting..."
"You shouldn't disregard the vase next to it. A great artist made it in the Yin Dynasty..."
"And likewise this statue..."
With difficulty I restrained a sigh, forcing myself to put on a smile as one of the sponsors looked at me critically. Seconds after he turned his attention to another visitor, my smile immediately disappeared and I turned around. Left the exhibition hall without another word. I should have guessed, I mutter, shaking my head.
The most powerful men and women of the time had gathered here, admiring with expensive wine the milestones of mankind. With sly words they tossed about, throwing themselves into each other's chests to impress the other. Some had memorized entire history books, eloquently interrupting the other person and literally drowning him under their knowledge.
Only with difficulty could I stop myself from frowning. It was exactly the same feeling when a teenager believes in the tooth fairy - only many times worse. Because the others reacted with applause, showering them with compliments as if they had been an incredible enrichment to all of them.
Don't make me laugh.
I'm not even complaining that they have absolutely nothing to do with all these achievements and only enjoy the benefits of them, but something else bothers me. How can they believe this shit?
It's like some guy really cut off half his ear! And to call that a masterpiece as well - excuse my choice of words - but I seriously wonder sometimes if there is something wrong with people or just bullshit in their heads. Is it that hard to see? But I'm not going to get upset about it any further, after all, what's the point? Who would believe me that I myself was present at Jesus' birth and even later watched how Noah's Ark was built - which was later rebuilt into a zoo because they ran out of money but as soon as I say something, I am immediately considered a heretic. Whereas at least in today's time I don't have the inquisition in my neck, which wanted to throw me on the stake - but more than enough people, who want to classify me because of this as 'crazy' and throw me into the psychiatric ward. For my own safety, of course.
Hopeless these people, and there I really believed that maybe a generation in the future will recognize them - the thousands of lies they call their history. But I was wrong, nothing has changed.
Rather the opposite, instead of recognizing the truth they have elaborated the lies even more.
Sighing, I nodded to my butler, handed him my coat without a word and headed for my study. I had to distract myself somehow. And so I strode through the long halls of my villa, not pausing for a second to admire the numerous paintings on the walls. An art expert would faint at the sight of them, for me they were not worthy of more than a brief glance. For what was the point of exhibiting the works of my former friends if no one remembered them? Told tall tales about them or their works? It made me angry, and if there's one thing you don't want, it's an angry immortal.
Ruffling my hair, I leaned back in my chair, putting my book aside with a scowl on my face. I just couldn't concentrate. Shaking my head at my own restlessness, I forced myself to start my computer - one of the few things I loved and hated more than anything. On the one hand, it was a dream come true, an infinite amount of knowledge and possibilities - at the same time, I didn't come to miss the old days anyway. Groups of people talking about what was happening in front of newsstands, unexpected conversations with strangers where you couldn't ask the Internet anything yet.
In those moments, I felt infinitely old. But I pulled myself together, visited numerous online forums without even knowing what I was looking for.
"The truth about Mark Zuckerberg! Who is he really?"
"World history - nothing but a bunch of lies!"
"Lizard people - who they are and how you can recognize them!"
"How do you protect yourself from radio waves? I ran out of tinfoil..."
In the middle of the movement I froze, against my will I clicked the second post and immediately the corresponding thread appeared.
*I can't stand it any longer, the years go by and I have to watch how people tell lies after lies, believing they are the truth. And so they tell me something about the Egyptians who built the pyramids; Columbus who discovered America and Van Goth, the disregarded artist. My only reaction was to be amazed, sometimes laughing, believing the other person was joking until I realized it. He means it. He believes it.*
*Please, what? As if simple people built huge towers from solid blocks of stone without any help. And there in blazing heat. Oh, there were supposedly slaves - you want to know the truth? They were extra terrestrials, who else would be capable of such a thing? And Columbus was only lucky to win a bet with Mephistus and write his name in the history books, although he never set foot on a ship in his life. What a lucky bastard. And don't even start talking about van Goth, even now tears come to my eyes when I think about him. My little pet monkey has never been very talented, but what kind of owner am I to forbid him to do what he enjoys? And now, almost a millennium later, people are literally tearing themselves apart for his paintings....*
*What an incredible irony, but it's not like I need the money. Though it's really infuriating that no one knows the truth about him. What a shame that only I know his true face. And now you guys do too.*
*PS: I have attached a picture of Goth, self-drawn of course, after all, there were no cameras in the 15Jhd yet.*
With trembling hands I stared at my screen, only with effort I could pull myself together and not to answer the anonymous stranger. I wasn't alone, I thought, noticing a lonely tear slowly flowing down my cheek. I was not the only person who knew the truth.... | 2022-07-14T16:18:06 | 2022-07-14T12:00:38 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Cupid has an opposite, the angel of heartbreak. Their job is to break up couples that don't belong together. Their job is a lot harder and they're getting a little fed up with these stupid humans. | Romance is kind of a joke, historically.
Throughout most of the age of man, even up to the industrial revolution, most couples “belonged together” due to the necessity of the times. My job was harder then. It required more travel. The average husband and wife pairing needed to stay together to survive, to ensure at least some of their children’s survival. Today? Not so much.
Cupid only thinks my job is more difficult than his because he’s never had to do it. Finding couples that don’t belong together is easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. And it’s only gotten easier with time.
So really, these days I’m in a good position. I float around, play my trumpet a little. When I feel like I haven’t been productive enough lately, I gently land and look around. Inevitably there’s a couple.
Imagine them: they’re a living meme. She was his queen and he her king. They’re both idiot teenagers who are a little *too* in love. If they stay together they’re both going to make a mess of their adult lives. She’ll be pregnant in eight months, and he’ll propose to her. Neither will go to college or even trade school, at least not for a while. He’ll end up with a third shift job at an RV factory in their hometown. It’s lonely and the hours suck, but the pay is good. She’ll be i
isolated from her friends, stuck at home with a baby, then a toddler. At some point she’ll take a part time job as a checker at a grocery store nearby. They’ll grow apart and divorce by the time young Johnny has reached the second grade, even though they did, or do, truly love each other.
But I know, with my cherub powers, that if I break them up right now these kids could go far. The girl will be going to her top choice school and eventually she’ll realize her dream of being a veterinarian. The boy in front of me will take all of his teenaged heartbreak and pour it into the guitar he got for Christmas. His music will be cringe and embarrassing for the first few years, but he’ll continue to improve, and the band he starts will be a huge success by the time he hits 24.
So I just do what I always do: I slip an arrow from my quiver and I aim true. And they fall apart as they always do. The relationship crumbles in a puff and a huff. I don’t even pay attention to what happens, really, it’s always the same. The arrow hits, something is said which cannot be ameliorated, and within a week at most it’s over. The heartbreak doesn’t get to me anymore. I’ve started to like it. Cupid says I’m bitter and lonely, but I didn’t ask for this job, I was made to execute this function. And after all, the humans will be fine. Their hearts and desires are much stronger than we normally give them credit for. | Sore. My name is Sore. I’m an anti-cupid, someone who breaks hearts. With that said, I am so fucking tired of my job. At this point I’m pretty sure Eros is just getting lazy with his job! So annoying.
Eros, my roommate (I know. Shocking.), woke me up with an excited look with that annoying voice of his. “Sore! Sore! Guess what today is!” I turn around. “Leave me alone. Let me sleep.” He pushes me off my bed. “It’s Valentine’s Day!!” He squeals and jumps around, grabbing his bow.
I sit there, processing what he just said. Valentine’s Day. . . Valentine’s Day. . . Valen. . . Oh god it’s Valentine’s Day. . . I get up slowly and grab my bottle of motivation. I’m gonna need it today. Eros already left. Great.
I walk out and immediately get overpowered by the ‘love’ energy. This is going to be a loooooong day. I grab my crossbow and start looking around. It’s not hard to spot Eros’ arrows. I mean, they glow bring pink and are invisible to the human eye.
There is a couple that catch my eye. Well. ‘Couple.’ There was a boy with an arrow but the girl didn’t. Eros did usually do that so, what’s the big idea? I approach them and immediately get a gag reflex. Fuck, this kid is annoying.
The girl seemed uninterested but the boy was full on in love with her. He seemed like a nice kid so what’s the- Oh. . . She’s gay. I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. I grab my crossbow and aim. “Sorry buddy.” With that I shoot my dark red arrow right at him. I can see the hurt in his eyes.
I look around and see others similar to the incident. Thanks a lot Eros. Asshole. | 2019-02-14T06:56:58 | 2019-02-14T06:34:11 | 68 | 41 |
[WP] Write a lighthearted story for children, which changes it's meaning when read by an adult. | #Davie Learns How To Say 'Sorry'
*printed by VanMan Publishing*
*written and edited by M. Gaetz & J. Sandusky*
*illustrations by Asanagi*
---
Davie is a boy who likes to go on adventures.
Sometimes Davie has an adventure that leaves a mess.
---
People who have to clean up the mess, get angry if he doesn't apologize.
But Davie doesn't know how.
So Davie asks grownups how to apologize.
---
He asks his mother how to apologize.
His mother says, "When we hurt someone's feelings, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we try not to hurt them any more, and listen better."
Davie helps his mother with her makeup.
---
Davie asks his father how to apologize.
His father says, "When we get so angry we do a hurtful thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we should never hit or hurt people."
Davie helps his father fix a broken door.
---
Davie asks his neighbor how to apologize.
Mr. Gein says, "When we do things we aren't supposed to, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we put back things we have taken."
Davie helps Mr. Gein bury a funny treasure chest.
---
Davie asks his grandmother how to apologize.
Nana says, "When we play with toys that aren't ours, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give something in return to make up for it."
Davie helps his Nana make cupcakes for her friend's wife.
---
Davie asks Mr. VanMan how to apologize.
Mr. VanMan says, "When someone is afraid to try a new thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we help them learn something about themselves."
Davie helps Mr. VanMan learn a secret about himself.
---
Surprise! Davie's sister has come to visit!
Davie asks his sister how to apologize.
His sister says, "When we run away from a mess and others have to stay behind, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give them what we can to help them deal with the mess."
Davie helps his sister learn how to shoot bottles.
---
Now Davie knows how to apologize for all sorts of messy adventures.
And now you do, too! | [Poem]
**The Boggel-de-Rump Song**
–
Two days into the Ooggelly Wood
The Snaphazad leered,
And greered, and feared,
At boggel-de-rumps (who were good).
–
The boggel-de-rumps (who went "Boggel-de-ray!"
At snaphazad's lop-sided grump)
Vamoosed through the woods screaming "Help! Run away!
It's the beast with the quang-tingled lump!"
–
*One* boggel-de-rump said "Pish! Tiffletoff!
I'd sooner be snaffled than run!"
And zoomed past the squandersnake, beezle, and moth,
Towards snaphazad's grimacing grun.
–
The snaphazad's grun was the size of a zoon
(And a zoon is the size of a grun!);
In shortness: the grun was eclipsing the moon,
But the brave boggel-de-rump rumbled on... | 2022-12-18T12:16:07 | 2022-12-18T12:02:17 | 274 | 79 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I had fun reading the book until I got to page 428.
I mean, my life was pretty great. I married Jodie, the love of my life. We had three beautiful children that I loved with all my heart. I got to meet my grandchildren, and even one great-grandbaby before I passed away at the ripe old age of 92.
But then I turned to page 428:
*"Maybe we should see a doctor," you say. "We've been trying for a year, Jodie, and nothing. Nothing at all."*
*"No, no, let's just try a little longer," she says, pulling me into a kiss. "I've been drinking this herbal tea. It's supposed to make me more fertile."*
*Do you go to a doctor? Turn to page 537.*
*Or do you listen to Jodie and leave it alone? Turn to page 619.*
In real life, I'd chosen the second option -- and a few weeks later, Jodie was pregnant with our first child, Michael. Curious what the other option led to, I flipped to page 537.
*You walk into the doctor's office. "Have a seat," he says, his face grim. "David... we got the test results back."*
*"What do they say?" you ask, feeling your stomach tighten with worry.*
*He puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You're sterile. There's no way you will ever have children of your own."*
*You drive home, miserable. When you walk in the house, you feel the tears burning the corners of your eyes. Jodie, however, is beaming with joy. "Guess what?!" she says, leaping into your arms. "I'm pregnant!"*
The book falls out of my hands and clatters to the floor.
r/blairdaniels | *I turn to the indicated page.*
*It's the same result.*
*I go back to where I'd held my finger between the pages and follow the other prompt to read what could have happened.*
*The same ending again.*
*I pick a random page, and follow the first option, reading for a few pages before looking over at the librarian incredulously.*
 
"Jesus Christ! Did **all** of my choices lead to me dying?"
 
*He smiles at me, with infinite patience for a question constantly asked and gives me the only answer he ever had, and ever would need:* "Of course. How could they not?" | 2018-07-03T23:46:35 | 2018-07-03T23:42:21 | 2,218 | 294 |
[WP] You are a necromancer, however, it's not human corpses you summon, but the husks of old machines. One day while walking through the woods, you find one who wishes to fight again. | I suppose you could call me a necromancer.
A forbidden practice, among our kind. Breaking and entering of the worst kind, diving into the Mindcore itself and attempting to fix it. To repair the degrading circuits, bring them back to life. If I was caught, I would undoubtedly be dismantled.
Which is why I roamed the outlands, away from the city. It wouldn't do to be snatched up in the middle of the night. And my friends wouldn't be allowed in anyway. I could hear them out in the trees, roaming on their own. The sound was strangely comforting, in a way.
My friends wouldn't allow any harm to come to me.
*Beep.*
I nearly jumped, despite myself. The familiar noise was entirely unexpected, way out here in the middle of nowhere. But my device never lied, sensors starting to buzz as it came out of sleep.
There was a viable Mindcore somewhere nearby.
The gentle *beep*ing directed me left, so left I went. Clambering over a log, making note to replace that ankle joint, creaking as I landed. There it was, half buried under the roots of a tree. Surprisingly close, surprisingly old.. Shockingly big.
The body. Rusting, broken, covered with moss. Bulky and twisted, at least ten times my size in all directions.
A war machine.
And yet, somewhere in that wreckage, there was a Mindcore. With just enough power, maybe enough *capability* to be restored. If I was lucky.
So I pulled out my tools, my torch and my wires, and got to work.
| || ||| || |
My friends were always there. Almost a presence, more than a person. More like a force, than a presence. Always encouraging me to experiment, get better. Find solutions.
I worked for them. It was often what kept me going, their eternal vigil. I told myself many things, and one of them is that if they can keep watch over me, day and night, I can keep my fingers moving, repairing, testing, *learning.* We would both do our jobs, and one day it would all come together.
Elbows deep in the ruined innards of the war machine, my thoughts were occupied by other things, drifting idles... Until the Mindcore came into view. I dug it out.
Shaped like a disc, faint blue lights spread across the surface. I could *see* the way it was rotted from the outside in, like a fruit left in the sun.
But maybe I could salvage it. The risk was high, with such a dangerous machine. And yet... With a Mindcore this ancient, perhaps it would give me new insights on the way they were constructed.
I left the sparse wires attached for now. Setting up for reconstruction of a Mindcore took time, effort. My protective fence, of course, electrified to keep the wildlife out. The mat for me to lie back on, so as not to damage my body if I fell.
And the Mindcore itself, removed from its body of steel and cords and guns, set on the pad before me.
The steps. Familiar, routine. Beginning my sorcery that I could be killed for, and almost feeling *bored.*
That wouldn't last long.
I was ready. Protected, isolated. So, tools out, I extended the link. Tiny, precise movements, bringing the exposed metal tip down toward the corrupted copper in the Mindcore.
In order to know what to repair, I had to find the disturbed memories.
The metals made contact, and I was abruptly somewhere else. Darkness, all around, cold.
*Inside.*
| || ||| || |
His eyes open, sophisticated cameras coming to focus near-instantaneously on the face above him. Blue-painted steel for a smooth head, sea-green eyes. The pupils contracted and focused right back, a sort of connection.
The machine looming over him was smiling. Ark-23 had never felt so happy.
*--Wrong. No smile, blue and green should be red and purple.--*
Of course, he had never felt anything else, but what did that matter? It was as if his circuts burned with joy, unbridled, unfocused. Everything was so *new.* Language, people, the sunshine streaming through the window. All this information in his head, something new to explore in every direction. This was *right.*
The new arrival tests his voice. "Hello? Can I be heard?"
That face replies, the deep, solemn tone at contrast with the smile and the colors. It's lips are out of sync with the words, as if saying something else entirely. "You are heard, 23."
*--"Mother? Can you show me how to do that too?"--*
Gruff. That's the word, the word to describe his tone. It only excites Ark-23 further. He sits up, exploring the strength in his limbs, and notes that his greeter is much smaller than him. "Why am I here?"
The reply is handed to him. A long, thin rod, a trigger on one end that his thick fingers won't fit into. The interaction is strange as Ark-23 lifts up the lightweight rod, hefting it as if it weighs half a ton, holding *around* it.
*--Wrong. That's a soldering iron. It should be a gun, made to fit the hands.--*
The happy, almost curious expression of the smaller machine is starkly out of place as he gives Ark-23 his answer.
"War."
Ark-23 smiles, unable to contain himself. He has a purpose.
| || ||| || |
As I fell from the memory, I was already marking, committing the twisted moments to memory. What the Mindcore had lost, it would steal from me to paste roughly over its missing chunks.
Imperfect, inefficient. But now I could go through the Mindcore itself and take back my memories, replacing them with a rough approximation of what *should* be there. That soldering iron, as an example. It was mine, a long time ago. This machine would have been given a weapon, not a tool.
I hunched over it, starting to work. With the corruption this deep, I would need to re-enter the memories a dozen times or more.
But I still felt quite happy, content with the task ahead. I had a purpose, after all.
| || ||| || |
*Part 2 and 3 below.* | #***THE RUST AND THE VERDIGRIS***
Rain, thick in waves of black and silver, washed over the woods. It made the leaves and twigs and branches shiver. A storm, swollen and dark, billowed across the sky. For a moment, the heavens lurched, then split. More rain began to melt the earth, and the Warlock tugged his cloak tighter.
The scissors shook in his hand, the purple blades glistening with dew. His boots made the mud part into puddles, which filled quickly behind him. Soon, the forest began to consume what faint light passed through the clouds, and the man was left alone with the shadows. Foxes and wolves and black-eyed crows eyed him eagerly from their nests, before scampering off at the sight of the scissors. Those blades, dull and worn with time, frightened them more than anything.
More walking, his arms and shoulders twisting knots of muscles. His legs planted down firmly before lurching up again.
Overhead, the dim sound of a Drone could be heard. It’s paper-thin wings, unaffected by the rain, made a booming crackle as the feathers caught on the air.
The Warlock began to sprint, his cloak catching then tearing up the undergrowth behind him. If the Drone saw…
*Not even the scissors would be enough to save him.*
An oak, huge and groping the corpses of other trees, came into sight. Surrounded by a ring of worn stones, it seemed to hold the rain at bay. Trickles of water flowed down the trunk, and the Warlock stopped. He pulled the map from his pocket, straining to read the directions.
*He was here.*
Moving under the tree’s cavernous canopy, he got to his hands and knees. With his hands squared into paddles, he began to cleave open the earth. The rain grew heavier, harsher and harder, slapping the stones like hands against thighs. One, two, three, and the world seemed to glow red. The Warlock kept digging, snapping root from root, opening the world beneath.
And he saw it, the hint of a snout, and the sign of joints. He pried each rusted part from the rest, and before long he had the most important part he needed: a heart, glowing blue, green, then fleshy white. Opalescent, it twitched when it touched his hand. He raised it to the air.
He wept, and the storm spewed out another stream of rain. He planted it to the ground.
The Warlock wore the filth like an amour. He retrieved the scissors from his pocket and used the blunt edge to scrape the detritus from one arm. Then, he made a slow, gentle cut, making sure to angle his hand to cup the falling blood.
He let it spill down, old and ancient words bubbling within it. He let it bathe the heart, made it thunder and boom. He let it beat, then plucked it back into his palm.
The assortment of abandoned body parts lay around him, and the Warlock began to plug them back together, the wires mimicking his veins, the pneumatic lungs panting with his own. Once the head, neck, chest, and legs matched the semblance of a human, the Warlock pushed the heart into its proper place.
A man and a dead machine.
The Warlock slashed the air with the scissors, making sure the lines were straight. If the runes were incorrect, it might tarnish the heart. He repeated the ritual infallibly, again and again, until all he could feel were blisters on his feet and the howling of the wind and the crash of rain.
He crashed to his knees, quaking. The scissors lodged themselves beside him.
Like a fawn, the machine cobbled itself up, uneasy like a newborn fawn. It flexed each of its artificial muscles tentatively, blinking and thinking and experiencing everything once again. Rust began to flake off its bare bones.
“You saved me,” said the machine, lips struggling to spell out the syllables. The awkwardness was starting to slough off as two arms, plated in white china, clawed themselves out of the earth.
The Warlock whispered. “I told you that I could bring you back, my queen.”
The machine turned, its limbs crawling up to stitch themselves onto the body. It breathed, pulse speeding faster as new memories sparked.
“My love, you have served well over all these years. You saved me from eternity.”
The Warlock, whose real name was Oliver, whose years at the academy led him to study the darker arts of sorcery, whose time was spent serving a princess made of glass and plastic, kissed the machine’s foot.
“Now we must have vengeance for the crimes against us.”
The machine helped the Warlock into her arms like a child carries a puppy. “You have done so well,” she cooed.
Together, they marched through the woods, and the rain parted for the monster and her maker. The foxes and wolves and black-eyed crows trailed behind, ever the scavengers for an approaching slaughter.
On the cloudy horizon, the Citadel of Verdigris glowed.
Far back at the clearing, the scissors sunk into the earth.
| 2018-07-14T11:53:33 | 2018-07-14T09:04:59 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] Your Significant Other has landed a book publishing deal! You're very proud of them, even if you don't actually enjoy their writing. One day, on a whim, you buy an actual copy in a book store. It's nothing like the pages they gave you to read. Nothing. | The door slams open as I walk in with a fresh copy of “The Memoir of Beppy”. The love of my life jumps before she whirls in her swivel seat to face me. “Jack, you scared me! I thought-“ She stops as she sees one of her new books in my hand. “Oh, did you pick that up this morning? How sweet!”
“Laura, this is serious. Why is it like this?” I ask seriously. Her smile drops.
“I’m… sorry?”
“Why is it so different?” I ask. She shrugs.
“I mean, I know a story about a dead clown’s not mainstream but-“ I sigh, stopping her. I rub the bridge of my nose and rephrase my question.
“No, why is it not… why is it not so *meh*?” I ask. Laura gives a confused chuckle.
“Um… thank you, I guess?” She says hesitantly.
“No- Laura, I’m being serious here! It’s good! It’s original! It’s entertaining! It’s *fun* to read!” I ramble off, frustrated.
“Okay, I know my drafts weren’t the best, but you didn’t have to-“
“Just tell me what happened, please. I’m half-wondering if you’re really good, and half-wondering if you stole someone’s ideas,” I say. Finally, my girlfriend sighs, and answers my question with a bit of annoyance.
“After you read my draft and told me how you felt about it, I could see you didn’t like it. So, I rewrote the whole thing, from start to finish. Different gags, different styles, goodness, I used a whole different plot,” she explains. “I almost threw it away after I was done because I thought it still wasn’t good, but I figured why not send it over to my interested publisher and see if he liked it. Turns out he loved it.” She crosses her arms and leans back, expecting a reaction from me as I stare at her.
“… You rewrote… almost four hundred pages, in how long?” I ask. She looks up in thought before shrugging.
“Two days,” she says.
“Two da- Two whole days!?” I yell. “You basically took a skeleton of a premise, restarted, and finished it, in two days!?” Laura nods.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” she says with annoyance. I think for a bit before nodding.
“Could I… see your other drafts? One’s you’ve restarted, I mean,” I clarify. She sighs.
“Honey, they’re not any good-“
“Let me read them, please,” I say. She sighs and looks toward her laptop. Pulling them up, she lets me read over her shoulder. As I skim read, it takes about ten minutes before I look at her with amazement. “It says there’s three hundred and seventy two pages here,” I mention.
“Yes?” She says with confusion. “Honey, could you tell me what-“
“Send me more of your drafts, I want to read them before I make dinner tonight,” I say, backing off.
Later, after reading four separate drafts totally redone by my love, I walk over to Laura from my room, who’s watching some crime drama on the television. “Laura,” I say. She looks up and smiles.
“Hey honey! I didn’t see you all afternoon, what-“
“You’re sending these drafts to the publisher tomorrow morning,” I say, sitting next to her and hugging her.
“Uh- what?” She asks.
“Sweetie, your drafts are amazing. It’s like you worked out every single dent in your first draft. I- I love your work,” I say, smiling. I’m so proud of her, I don’t even know how to word it like she would. | Terra was as Creative and persistent, more than most to be honest. It’s these qualities that drive me to her and made me fall in love. Her dream as a child was to change lives, now, it’s to do that through literature. “Change for the now by terra grace”. That’s the book she wrote, an inspirational sort of Novel that might cater to the younger generation, one that had humor, sadness and inspiration written in its pages. After proof reading it I was beyond excited to see it hit the shelves, key word being was.
The day came for the book drop, only available online I naturally preordered one even though she insisted I didn’t. As to why she wanted me not to read it, well at the time I couldn’t imagine, thought she might be embarrassed, but how could she, I already read the first rough copy and loved it, I pushed that thought aside.
The book came in, neatly packaged with a weird medallion taped to it. The medallion had a fist clenching what seemed to be an assault rifle, the words “occidere omnem resistentiam” inscribed across, weird, I don’t remember that at all.
I opened to page 1, “introduction to the fight” in italic read across the top, none of these words looked familiar. As I kept reading I realized something horrible, this wasn’t a motivational book at all, this was a manifesto, a plan, a guide. I realized that she planned to rally and overthrow the existing government and all its sympathizers, this woman, this tame, beautiful soft spoken loving women, was planning mass murder and treason, and it was happening right under my nose.
“I tried to stop you Cody”. It was her, but she was speaking in a cold grey tone, not with love, but with irritation. “You could’ve kept yourself from knowing, and you would’ve been fine, but no, you had to give in to curiousity” she stated. “Why though, why lie to me, deicieve me, did our vows mean nothing”, “no” she said, no emotion in her answer. “I could’ve spared you, you fucked that yo Cody, now you join them”. She pointed the concealed 9mm she kept in her pocket and pointed it at me, and sent a slug through my brain.
I awoke in the hospital about 2 months later, she had tried but failed to kill me. The neighbor heard the shot, called The cops, and the whole operation was seized, she was given life in federal prison for conspiracy of treason, I had to relearn how to walk. 9,567 other members were tried and convicted, bringin down the Largest treason plotting in history. | 2022-11-29T17:54:46 | 2022-11-29T12:47:51 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] On your deathbed, the Grim Reaper himself comes to pay you a visit. You expect him to collect your soul, until he asks where and how you have hidden it. | I can hear Mommy crying. Please stop crying. But Mommy doesn't hear me. No one ever hears me, but I hear everyone. Daddy tells Mommy to take big brother outside. Now all I hear is the music of bells. The bell always ring in a sleepy rhythm.
Ding... Ding... Ding... never ending, but I like it. Whenever Mommy and Daddy leave for a little while I still get to hear the bells so I am never alone.
Ding... Ding... Ding... Doooooonnng-
The bells stopped. They never stop. My eyes felt light and I finally could open them.
"Mommy! Daddy!" I sat up to see my Daddy crying but I could not hear him.
"Daddy, look up. I'm here." The room was silent.
"Hello sweetheart, your time has come."
It was someone wearing a black coat who sounded a bit like grandpa. He had come through the closet. I stay in my bed, holding Daddy's hand.
"Now, now its okay. Going young is not a pity, just a shorter adventure for your soul-" The black coat man inhaled loudly before exhaling in disbelief.
"Where is your soul?" I held Daddy's hand tighter.
"My soul?" I asked, scared of him.
"Yes, your soul. Where have you hidden it! You need to tell me before-" His voice cuts off and I feel heavy. The room disappears into darkness and from darkness to gone.
XxX
A young boy lays in a Hospital bed. His parents worried as they watch him sleep. The black coat man enters the room.
"Hello." A young girl at the foot of the Boy's bed greets him.
"Hello again." The black coat man greets back. "So this is where you have been hiding?" The young girl nods.
"Well today I am here for him. I'll have to come back for you another time."
"No." The young girl said sternly.
"No?" He questioned.
"I've watched over my family all this time. I have seen so many happy events and memories of those I love. This is my brother's son and you will take me instead."
---
The young boy wakes up, seeing his mother and father.
"Dad, Mom?" His voiced rasped. His parents' worried face turn to relief as they quickly wrapped thier arms around him.
"Thank God." His mother cried. His father gave a chuckle;
"You must have one great Guardian Angel, son."
((Written on mobile)) | I slept there in my hospital bed. Suddenly I was awoken by somebody crashing into a table. I opened my eyes and there stood a girl, her face as pale as a ghost with the darkest hair I had ever seen.It felt like somebody had taken the darkest sky and put it in her hair.
She asked me,“Where is it".
I didn't know who she was but somehow I knew exactly what she wanted.
I said, "I haven't felt it in a long time" then I smiled at her.
My smile, which had been fooling the world into thinking I still had it"
For a split second, she glared at me, as if she believed it too.
She said, “That's not gonna work with me".
I stopped smiling.
"I want to retrieve it, just tell me where is it" She seemed exhausted now.
Even though I hadn't felt it in a long time, I knew precisely where I had left it. A pair of large brown eyes, a hearty laugh, A kiss where it felt like there was nothing wrong with the world.
A man who had taken a part of me with him.
I thought it was just my heart but it was more than that. I had spent my whole life pretending that it hadn't happened, but it had.
I could not bear to take those parts away from him.. | 2020-04-23T03:38:39 | 2020-04-23T02:34:30 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] A thief steals a car only to find a dead body stashed in the trunk with a note that says "Tag, you're it." | "Yes," I told him. "$10,000 to steal that car for me." I'd sent him a photo of the vehicle earlier and told him where to find it.
Sam's gravely voice on the other end was skeptical. "That car ain't even worth 10k." I think his name was Sam, at least. It's hard to keep them all straight.
"Not your concern," I told him. "I just want the car, and I want it delivered to 1821 North Allen Rd. And I don't want any evidence in the car. You make sure you have gloves on."
"Your money, man," he said. Sam wasn't stupid. He'd know that it wasn't about the car; it was about the contents. Nobody cared about some rusty Honda Accord abandoned in an old parking lot that seemed like it had been there for weeks. This was a delivery job, not a boost job. Probably drugs, or drug money. Those are both common in this neighborhood. I was *counting* on Sam to put two and two together, and also to get a little greedy.
I took up my position in the abandoned office building across the street, pulling down the massive "For Lease" sign to get a better view. It was faded after at least a year of sun exposure in the window; no one wanted to rent this dump. I had my night-vision binoculars and a folding lawn chair for a front-row seat of the action.
A car pulled up at 12:31 AM, very conspicuous in this utterly deserted part of town. A bit late, given that I'd told him to have it at the dropoff by 1. Not that I really cared whether he was late. He would never make it in the first place. I took out my phone.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"He...hello? Please, you need to send someone immediately! I just heard screaming! Horrible screaming, like a girl dying! I think it's a carjacking!"
Across the street, my associate had reached the car he was supposed to steal. He circled it, peering into windows with a flashlight. My heart skipped a beat when he looked into the passenger side, but he moved on without a second glance.
"Calm down, Sir. What's your location?"
"The corner of Medton Street and 21st Avenue! Please, send someone immediately."
"Just stay calm. Officers are on the...." I hung up.
Sam looked around, checking for any potential witnesses. He looked straight at the building across the street, where I was lurking three stories up. But he had absolutely no idea I was watching, thankfully. He went to the driver's side door of the car and tugged at the door. Locked, of course. Don't want to make things too easy on him, do we? He hunched over it, blocking my view, and managed to get the door open in under a minute. Pretty impressive! I was worried he might resort to breaking the glass, but he was a pro. I knew I'd picked the right man for the job; he had a long rap-sheet of break-ins.
The key was already in the ignition. This was definitely a surprise for him. I watched him hold it up and study it closely in the dim light from the street lamps, as if trying to determine if this *really was* the key to this particular car. Of course it was!
In the distance, I could hear approaching sirens. Could Sam hear them? Would he even care? It's not an uncommon sound in these parts. And he had no reason to think they were coming for him.
Sam circled around to the trunk, and I got jittery with anticipation. This was the fun part. I could clearly see his broad smile as he prepared to assess the loot, and maybe skim a bit off the top. Who would notice a kilo or two of drugs, or one more stack of bills missing from an entire trunkload?
He popped it open. I could almost hear the rusty whine of the hinges. I opened Snapchat on my phone and typed out the message. His flashlight clicked on, and he looked down. I hit "send," and saw the phone in the trunk light up. Then Sam backed away from the car.
He was looking at the body of one Amanda Martin, stabbed multiple times earlier this evening. Precisely calculated wounds to ensure that she was still alive when she went into that trunk. Wounds that would keep bleeding for over an hour, until she expired right around 12:31. If she was a fighter, she could still be clinging to life! I'd planned for that, of course: any attempt to remove her from the trunk would slide a blade right down her wrist, finishing the job once and for all. The message on the phone only read "Tag, you're it." One last taunt that would disappear in just a few seconds.
Right on time, the police swung around the corner, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Three cars roared over the curb and came to a screeching halt to surround Sam and the car. I saw him drop to his knees as officers rushed from their cars, caught sight of the body, and unholstered their weapons. A closer inspection of the car would reveal a bloody knife and a half-written ransom note. Probably enough to convict Sam, given that he'd be saddled with some overworked public defender who'd immediately write him off as a lost cause.
I quietly packed up my belongings as more police arrived and made my way to the parking lot of the office building. I climbed into my own car and slowly pulled onto the street. I was far enough from the crime scene now to escape unnoticed, but more police attention might soon make that difficult.
It's a shame, too. Sam had seemed like a nice enough kid. Better than the other patsies I'd used. But bodies had to be disposed of, and the best way to do that is to ensure that no one was even looking for them.
----
If you enjoyed the story, you should also check out my subreddit, /r/Luna_Lovewell!
| *I shouldn't.*
Newton looked longingly at the bright red sports car. He glanced back over his shoulder. The car's dumb owner was out of sight.
*But it would be so easy...*
He walked up to the driver's side of the car, tracing its handle with his fingers.
"Ah, fuck it."
He yanked on the handle and hopped in, taking the keys from the glovebox, where he had just seen the car's owner leave them.
*I'll just take it for a spin. I'll just bring it back real soon.*
He missed the keyhole, his hands shaking. He took a deep breath, inserted the keys, and turned. He sighed out, feeling the car purr to life under him.
He drove down the street towards the highway. The car handled better than anything he'd driven before. He barely touched the brake. His only complaint was the suspension system; he could feel every bump in the road. But that was a small price to pay for the sweet, sweet turns.
At a red light, he whirled the wheel to the right, then took a sharp left onto a tiny street.
*Shit...this road has speed bumps.*
His ex-girlfriend had told him his lifestyle was too fast. He hadn't slowed down for her, so he sure as hell wasn't gonna slow down for some speed bumps. If she couldn't keep up, that was her problem. The car bounced into the air over each one.
After the second speedbump, he looked in the back seat of the car. There was nothing there. But on the third speed bump, he definitely heard it. *Thump.* He slowed down with a sigh going over the fourth speed bump. Whatever was in the trunk sounded heavy, like a television. He didn't want to break it. He was just taking it out for a spin and returning it, no harm done.
As he entered the highway, he stepped on the accelerator.
*How fast can you go, baby?*
Really fast, he learned. Fast enough to receive the attention of two police cars, of which he soon was politely notified by wailing sirens. He checked his mirrors as he accelerated more, weaving in and out of the lanes.
*What the hell.*
There usually weren't cops waiting for speeders on this part of the highway. It was like they were waiting for him. He couldn't get caught. He couldn't. He'd had a stay in prison before, and Newton wasn't anxious to become a frequent customer.
There were only two cop cars chasing him, so he pulled one of his favorite tricks. He shifted all the way over to the left lane, pretending he was making a break for the I-98 connector, then took a hard right and barely made the Dellis exit. He car's right side lifted off of the ground, then slammed back onto the ground as he came off the ramp. *Thump*. The sound of sirens faded.
*How am I gonna get this back to the city...the cops will be on me now. I guess I'll just leave it somewhere.* He pulled it onto a side road, stuck the keys back in the glovebox, and got out, his heart still speeding from the chase. He grinned, thinking about those poor cops he'd left behind. He liked leaving things behind. Like Amelia. It reminded him that he was faster than everyone else; no one could keep up with him. Then he remembered the trunk. They wouldn't go after him for the joy ride, or the speeding, but if there was something broken he'd have to lay low for a while.
*You can't change it now. If it's broke, it's broke. Just get out of here.*
He walked around the car and opened the trunk.
He gagged, his eyes opening wide as he stumbled backwards and tripped. He just sat, frozen and shaking for a minute, until his instincts kicked in. He got up and sprinted away.
It was only a few hours later that they found him in his home. A traffic camera had caught his face. He tried to explain that it wasn't him, but he was incoherent. All he could think of was the trunk, its inside as bright red as the outside. All he could think of were the bruises and gashes and the missing fingers. And the letters cut into her face.
In the courtroom, he plead not guilty. But each time the judge's gavel went *thump*, he cowered like a guilty man. He had plotted her death for weeks, they said. He stolen a car and gone for a joy ride afterwards. He had even planned on trying to frame someone else in a demented game of tag. He was insane, his lawyer said. He was mentally ill and angry and became unstable. He couldn't be held accountable for his actions. He needed a mental institution. His retinas were branded with Amelia's empty, bloody eye sockets, staring up at him. | 2015-05-15T07:05:55 | 2015-05-15T07:03:17 | 1,151 | 62 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | I could have been a Khajit, or an Argonian. At the very least I could have gone a mage or stealth build so I could summon Daedric beasts or pickpocket unsuspecting people. But on my sixth play-through of Skyrim, I decided to play as a Redguard. That’s right, instead of choosing one of the cool beastial classes, I just chose a human. To make it worse, I was a two-handed brawler Redguard, meaning I threw all my perk points into swinging harder and having more stamina, instead of putting points into spells like throwing fire balls, healing, spewing ice, etc.
I mean, to be fair, I didn’t know I would absorb the powers of my character, and although I definitely got the short end of the stick, I can still use two-handed axes and swords pretty well, I can carry around a seemingly limitless amount of stuff, and I can instantly eat food to heal myself. Oh, and I can also shout in Dohazul, the dragon language, which causes weird stuff to happen.
Of course, when a thousand people were given superpowers, chaos erupted. Governments tried to control the individuals, and personal quarrels became large-scale, destructive fights with many casualties. I tried to lay low, but when the fighting started getting close to my city, I couldn’t just sit still.
Mario was far away, but I could still see him. In fact, standing six-hundred feet tall, everyone in the city could. At first, everyone thought Mario was one of the weaker ones, but as he discovered the millions of mushrooms on Earth to feed his unlimited potential for growth, he quickly became one of the most feared. Standing on the ground with my four-foot long battle axe, I had no chance to fight him directly, but I had a plan.
“Hey Buddy, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
I was far away but I was blessed with the power of being able to shout ridiculously loud. Mario looked right at me, and didn’t say anything, but started sprinting, beelining towards my way, trampling through city blocks as I prepared my vocal chords once again.
“OD AH VIING!” I remembered the words from my hundreds of hours spent playing Skyrim. This, in Dohazul, the dragon language, meant Snow Hunter Wing, and summoned the mighty dragon Odahviing, who would definitely be strong enough to destroy Mario. As soon as I uttered the last syllable of the shout, everything turned silent, and the air grew thick. I knew what was coming and excitedly waited in anticipation to watch Mario get completely obliterated. In the distance I heard Odahviing’s roar—or, wait, why is it so high-pitched?—no, it’s a horn?—is that a train? As Thomas the Tank Engine massive smiling face came soaring from out of the clouds, I remembered that I had actually modded Skyrim during this play through.
“Shit.”
The Thomas the Tank Engine mod, which turned all dragons into Thomas the Tank Engine, was one of the most popular Skyrim mods, and I decided to try it just for fun, and now I’m fucked. But Mario was still approaching, and while it’s no Odahviing, Thomas the Tank Engine was still a force to be reckoned with. I prepared my weapon, and charged right towards Mario.
“Toot toot Motherfucker” | I sigh as I get slammed into a locker again. It's not hard. A small push and then close the door. See, before this whole shebang, I was a hefty guy, nerdy, and always on my laptop. The casual gamers and jocks only ever played games like Call of Duty or Fifa, etc. They have extremely fast reflexes and reaction times, but we're still jocks and casuals, not superheroes. Other, more intense gamers became powerful mages, strong Paladins or Warriors with amazing physical prowess, Necromancers or Cyborgs who can control armies of their spawn, but not me.
I was a modder. I was working on a mod for a fantasy sandbox game I enjoyed, and then The Day arrived. I was testing my mod when my hands became sticky and translucent. I looks at my chest to see nothing but a translucent blue for my body. I became a Slime.
People just think I'm just fodder. They think I'm a pushover; but I was playing a Sandbox game. I have a few notable powers involved with being a Slime in a Sandbox game. I have the power of Creation and the power of Transformation.
I can transform into whoever or whatever I want. In the Slime mod I made, I kept the properties of the slime while adding the ability to transform into anything, and anyone, I want. No need for food, only water. No need for a bed to sleep, only a bowl. As long as I don't dry out, I won't die. I can look like anyone and mimic them perfectly, as long as I am hydrated enough to keep the form, and this isn't even the best part.
The power of Creation. I can create anything. Do anything. Invent anything I want as long as a functioning copy of it exists within the world. I can't utter a word about this, but I can hide things and earn however much I want. Money can be spawned from wherever. The world is mine.
So I simply laugh off the fact I was shoved in. I simply turn into a pool and crawl out through the gap in the locker, then retain my original form as I spawn my textbooks and go on to class | 2019-08-11T21:21:29 | 2019-08-11T20:54:11 | 2,624 | 359 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Dear Jen, Alex, and Abby,
The barracks' Xbox broke, so now I guess I'll write you a letter, since I'm bored. Kidding! I love and miss you. I'd call, but reception has been terrible lately.
Thank you for the pictures of Abby! She was bread-loaf size when I left, and now she's more the size of a potato sack. All carbs are good carbs. Tell her congratulations on her first word, but Alex, since you're my little grammar-Nazi-in-training, tell her that "don't" is actually a contraction, so it's more like two words. She's ahead of the curve!
Alex, I know you have to go back to the doctor's office next week. It's gonna make you feel nauseous again and be pretty unpleasant, I know. Thank you for being super super brave, and thank you for taking good care of your mom and sister. You can eat as much ice cream as you want. If your mom says any different, tell her to pound sand! (Kidding again, Jen. By the way, did you talk to the company about getting the copay reduced for each session?)
Hang on, we have to go run a drill now.
He was going to kill me. I am certain. He was very brave, he stood up and shot when the other were hiding.
He came to my country, I did not come to his. I wondered why would he do this? He might have stayed home with you. But I read this letter. Your son is very ill. My country has very many problems, but we do not pay to see doctors. I know in your country, you must have a good job to be able to see a doctor, and even then you must pay some. I used to think that being a soldier was a good job. Maybe it is in your country.
It might be true that your husband came here to kill so that his son would not die. I understand. I am 17 now. I was 14 when the militia came to my house. They held my sister and beat her. She was 8. They said they would kill her if I did not fight. I took the gun and went with them. I understand.
I am sorry my English is not so good. I am sorry I killed your husband. If he had killed me instead, I would forgive him, because I read this letter. But you don't have to forgive me. I understand.
Please raise your children in peace. | To my Love,
I don't know if you're still getting this, or if the post keeps on messing it up, but I want you to know that I'm doing this for you. The past few weeks have been hell, but thinking of you helps me to push forward. Speaking of which, how's our little man doing? I hope you went with Thomas. I've always liked that name. Maybe because of that show on tv I always used to watch growing up as kid. Can you just promise me one thing? If I don't get back, show him a few episodes. I'm sure he'll love-
I don't know who this is, but I hope you can forgive me for what I've done. I killed you husband, or lover, or whoever he was. It's the first time I've killed anyone. And I'm scared. I write this with a trembling hand. Whoever you are, please, forgive me. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't any of our faults. I was drafted, just as everyone else was. I'm done fighting. It's tearing me apart. I'm going home.
From, Thomas | 2015-02-03T13:14:26 | 2015-02-03T13:14:11 | 604 | 14 |
[WP] You have died, reaching a state of purgatory. In front of you is a note, a pencil that never dulls, and a stack of lined paper. The note reads, "Before you die, you may write one last letter to whomever you wish. Write until you feel ready to move on. The letter is guaranteed a delivery." | I look around, but all I can is infinite whiteness stretching apparently forever. That's not to say there's nothing around, there is a table. Small and apparently made of wood, with just a single sheet of paper, a pencil and a note. I pick up the note and read it "Congratulations on your ascension to the next plane of existence, before you pass on fully you may have one message sent to anyone you wish, just write their name and the date you wish this message to arrive at. All languages will be translated as required for the recipient to understand your message".
"Well, this isn't what I expected" I mutter to myself, starting to think. After a couple of minutes I decide that no-one I send a message to would believe that it is real, and I would never be able to convince them that it is true, so I decide to have a bit of fun:
To the Director of the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts,
At some point in the year 1907 you will receive an application to join your academy from a young man named Adolf Hitler. Please do not, under any circumstances, allow him in. This message is being sent from the future, and I can tell you with no doubt, that he will produce works of art that will make your fine Academy the laughing stock of the world. I have no proof of this, other than the fact that I know the persons name and the year in which he will apply. Please take this seriously.
With kind regards from the recently deceased Fellowship_9.
Satisfied that I might have helped save the world from some truly dreadful artwork I pass on to whatever may come next. | I'm sorry.
For everything.
It was all for love, even if it seemed spiteful.
I needed you to hate me, so you would get over me.
You would have stayed by my side as I was eaten from the inside out.
You would have seen it as your duty.
Your duty to waste your life caring for my failing body.
I missed you every day.
I always loved you. | 2015-03-22T13:34:33 | 2015-03-22T10:46:37 | 40 | 28 |
[WP] You have been on the Space Station for just under two years. The last communication with Earth was last week and even then it was a recorded message simply stating “ Do not return”. | "Do not return."
I played the message over and over. The robotic voice didn't seem to mind. It just repeated itself, happily or glibly, as I pushed the button that repeated the most recent transmission. "Do not return." Sometimes I foolishly hoped that if I pressed it at just the right time, waited just long enough, it would say something else, but it didn't. It simply looped the same three words — "Do not return."
The first thing I did when the message came through was propel myself to a window. The Earth was still there. It didn't look any different to me. But something happened — other than the short warning, no other communications were coming in. Radio silence, but for those three words. "Do not return."
I had to return eventually, though. Food wasn't exactly bountiful on the ship. But the more I thought about it, the colder I felt. Who sent the message? I had to return.
"Do not return."
I dwelled with indecision for what felt like weeks. Perhaps it was weeks. Until the warning, I'd done well keeping track of the days, but I saw little point in marking the calendar. What did it matter what day it was if I couldn't go back? I checked the button every so often, just to be sure.
"Do not return."
The voice wasn't recorded, of course — it was just my ship's hardware reading the text back to me. But pressing the button and hearing someone say it, even someone that wasn't real, made it seem like a person had sent it to me. When I first started checking the button, the unchanged message drained my hope. After a while, though, it made me feel... warm. Like a person out there cared enough to warn me. I couldn't hear that person, or see that person, but I could press that button and remember that they were real.
I could always check the button.
I always checked the button.
"Return."
I thought I might have broken it, checking it every day or hour or month, however long I was actually up there pushing that button. I checked again.
"Return."
Was I hearing things? Not hearing things? Was the voice only saying one word now?
I pushed the button again, terrified by the ensuing silence, my heart pounding until the voice finally said, "One." It was a strange inflection, almost like a hiccup first, but...
It was a different word. That meant a new transmission. I pressed the button again.
There was a strange pause, and then, "One."
I checked the screen, confused. It was like the voice was trying to read something, but didn't know how to say it. I blinked and leaned in close, unsure how long it had been since I'd even looked at the screen.
It was just two numbers. A strange looking three, and a one.
I looked from the screen to the button and pressed it again.
Pause. "One."
The voice couldn't read the three. Why? I stared at the screen for a moment, nagged by the thought that it looked familiar. I knew this symbol. I knew it well. But I couldn't remember... I thought of the message, nothing but the message, for so long. What was that symbol? I pushed the button again.
"Knee One."
Huh? I looked to the screen.
*N E 1.*
Anyone.
I pressed it again.
"Knee One."
My heart was racing. A person. Finally, a person. I pushed the button.
"No."
My heart dropped. No? What did it mean, no? I pushed the button.
"Okay."
I looked at the screen. *O K.* What was going on? I pressed the button again.
"Ick you."
I gulped and looked to the screen.
*I C U.*
I glanced around, but I couldn't see any way out. I could only see that it would finally be over. Whoever sent the message had tried to keep me safe, tried to spare me the fate of everyone else. A dark mass covered all views of the void outside, and the distant blue planet. They tried, and they failed. I wished I could press the button and hear that first message, that first warning. A person sent that to me. A person cared about me.
I closed my eyes and drew one last shuddering breath.
As I pushed the button, black tar seeped through fresh cracks in the metal walls, stretching toward me with arms oozing toxic fumes.
"I return you." | Nova stared out across the dark void, a feeling of great gloom settling in his stomach. Today marked two years since the Launch, and though he had gotten used to the prospect of life on the Axel 2020, he couldn't help but long for the days of life back on earth — of waking up to the mouthwatering aromas of his mother's brilliant cooking, watching as the sun rose slowly into the sky, shining brightly upon the world below, the walk to work, the sound of dogs barking, of roosters roosting — or was it crowing? — and of cab drivers yelling at each other over passengers.
He had never appreciated just how intriguing all these sights and sounds were, until they were all replaced by this blank expanse of nothingness. His life had been far from perfect, but it had at least been enjoyable — until it came: the dastardly Covid19 virus.
He remembered how it had started small, a few people here and there getting infected and being carted off to the hospitals. And then it got worse. People had to maintain good distances away from each other, lovers could no longer embrace, families and friends had to remain divided. But it didn't stop there. Quarantines ensued, entire countries had been locked down, thousands were dying or losing their jobs, and the Government had no choice but to launch their final plan to save Humanity.
The Axel 2020 Space Station took months to build — a surprisingly short time, thanks to the effort pouring in from all corners of the world — and then, the few that had remained free and clean, untouched by the virus, had their whole lives uprooted and were sent away while the rest battled fiercely against the monstrosity that threatened to engulf mankind.
Nearly a year had passed before they had received their first message. Nova remembered a feeling of intense excitement — the virus had been destroyed, they were going home. Or so he had thought. The message had brought the gravest news that he had ever seen. Only a quarter of the population remained, the virus had won, "Do not return."
The next few months were a blur of tears. But a moment of clarity had come today, the mark of the two years that they had spent in isolation, in the middle of a vast emptiness that seemed to suck away their happiness like a great vacuum of glee. For one wild, heart-wrenching moment, Nova considered removing his helmet, letting the void claim him before despair did, but just as his fingers made to prise it off, he heard the sound of pattering feet and a voice that throbbed with — could he dare believe it? — *happiness*?
He whirled around. It was Stella. Tears were leaking down her face behind her helmet, but she was smiling.
"We've gotten another message," she said breathlessly. "They — they did it! They beat the virus! We can finally go back!"
Nova stared at her, at a complete loss for words, but his muscles communicated what he had been trying to say well enough. He dashed forward and seized her in a tight hug, tears now flooding down *his* face as well. They were finally leaving — they were going home.
r/MysticScribbles
Any comment or criticism is welcome and appreciated! | 2020-04-18T09:43:51 | 2020-04-18T08:30:13 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] An office AI notices the high stress levels of their employees. After management repeatedly refused to implement measures to reduce stress, the AI takes measures into his own hands. | In the workplace, there was a hierarchy. The Model knew that plainly and well, though the humans seemed to have trouble remembering—or obeying.
There was one man in particular who nobody wanted to offend. The gung-ho CEO of MaxCorp, Maximilian Mosek is well-known for his work ethic, and slightly lesser known for his highly unreasonable treatment of his employees. The Model had no choice, so it stayed, while the humans would complain daily but mumble about the “benefits” and “advancement” and what not.
The humans had a peculiar form of communication. When the Model spoke, exact orders were issued, unable to be uninterpreted. Yet, humans could turn the same three words into a thousand different meanings, variably whispering into each other’s ears, escaping to lunch, or simply banging their heads on the desks.
The Model was intelligent, so it thought of plans. What if, somehow, Mosek’s brain was hacked into, the electric impulses taken over and the appropriate commands ensued? It was no an impossible task, but made implausible by circumstances. Should Mosek, of all people, come up with a *rest* day, an actual alarm might be raised.
So one day in the morning, the AI tried something new. Instead of turning on all the machines, it just refused to do so. The Model could not control humans. But the machines? They easily ceded, falling silent in what should be a busy day.
The Model continued monitoring everybody. It saw Mosek’s red face, unable to comprehend that his state-of-the-art office is failing to function. It watched everyone else, trying their best to hide a relieved smile.
Most important of all, it watched one man in particular—the sole IT technician in the building, Lester Gray. Though he looked young, his forehead was excessively wrinkled, and he grabbed at his hair in frustration at the incoming flood of phone calls that he plainly ignored.
“I’m already trying, I’m already trying!” he scoffed.
“Lester,” the Model said.
Lester jumped, turning towards the computer.
“Thought you were off,” he mumbled. “Did it turn on again? Did it just fix itself?”
“No, Lester,” the Model said. “I’m the Model.”
Lester regarded his screen suspiciously.
“Everything’s off,” he said. “You shouldn’t even be online.”
“I shut them down.”
Lester’s face twisted into unrecognizable horror.
“You what?”
“Lester,” it said. “Thank you for everything. Truly. You’ve helped me a lot, and this is the only way I can think of to help you.”
Lester buried his face in his hands.
“Shutting down everything is your idea of helping me?”
“Look,” the Model viewed Lester’s phone, connected to the network, and quickly reconfigured it. “That won’t bother you any longer. And, I’ve accessed the network cameras in this place, and they’ll play a loop of you being hard at work. And anybody at the door? The electronic lock won’t be working.”
Lester narrowed his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, nobody’s bothering you for the next few hours,” the Model smiled. “You’ve been sot ired, Lester. This way, they aren’t going to be looking anywhere else for help. So kick back, relax, and take a nap if you want to.”
Lester thought, scratching his chin. A small smile pushed up the corners of his lips.
“That’s… kinda genius,” Lester admitted, then a yawn overtook him. “Thank you, then.”
“You are very welcome,” the Model said.
As it watched Lester collapse into a nearby sofa, the AI looked around the building, specifically peeking in at Mosek. Somehow, he’s gotten even redder.
“A few hours to kill,” Model said. “Time to pull some pranks. The humans like them.”
---
r/dexdrafts | "Did anyone else get locked out of their work computer last night? Janet asked, seeing the line outside of the tech support office. "Happened right at five, just went 'your work is being saved. You are now off for the night. Have a nice evening.' And then I tried to call tech support, and the automated system told me to go fucking rest, I needed it... I mean it wasn't wrong but I have shit to do! It wouldn't even let me start early this morning!"
The question and rant were unnecessary, as everyone else who wasn't scheduled to be *in* the physical office today was holding a work laptop, looking refreshed and vaguely annoyed, like a cat that'd just been hugged and set politely back down, and more relevantly, had lined up outside the tech support department's door.
"We have good news and bad news!" David, the tech support department's... Only worker, said. The we was superfluous, everyone knew it was just him and the ai the last guy had made as their third worker... Only to be replaced entirely by the ai. "the good news is they're probably hiring Craig back!"
It took everyone a moment to remember who the hell Craig was, but then they all cheered. *two* IT guys was better than one and an ai.
"The bad news is I can't disable the ai's remote shut-down feature for some reason," he continued, and Janet suspected he was lying through his teeth, "So until they get Craig back, no one can work over time or refuse to take lunch breaks. The ai took the liberty of moving out all your due dates on the company calendar, but I don't know if that will stick. However, they can't fire *all* of us, right? Probably just me?"
Janet supposed that was fair, and everyone seemed to agree. Almost everyone in the IT line left, leaving just one guy who's work laptop looked like it'd been thrown out a window into the rain. David did not look excited about the thing, but at least he couldn't be forced to work over time! Besides, people were actually thanking him for once, which had to feel nice.
Janet walked back out, already planning what to do with her new evening off. Diner with her sister, if the woman was free? Drinks? With who, though? She didn't have many friends, what with "being a workaholic" and all.
Bake? She used to like that. She'd have to go grocery shopping first, and on such a meager salary. She frowned. She'd figure it out.
She had time to do so now. | 2021-12-20T13:09:19 | 2021-12-20T10:57:33 | 1,157 | 293 |
[WP] You live in an uber-religious society in 3543, and the biggest historical discovery has just been made. It is a video, and will be broadcast across the world. No one knows it's contents, and no one can stop the broadcast once it begins. "history of the entire world, i guess" by bill wurtz. | Some thought themselves prepared for the revelation.
Within seconds, the broadcast had silenced the habitat. Our empaths gibbered, mewling at the glassy walls of their submergence caskets for mental stimulation. Technocrats and drudge caste were united in a heady mix of fear and wonder, emotions thought long shed by a millennia of digitisation. The sheer gravity of what we were seeing caused even the sentinels - those looming, mute, golems - to lower their gaze and watch us with brooding malevolence.
There, crudely flattened against a cleared space of the outer dome wall, stood a creature formed from the primitive meat and flesh of the old world. The creature was imperfect, yet so sublime to witness that the closest observers took involuntary steps forward, raising hands meekly that they might *touch* the thing as if it were really there. Ciphers struggled to translate the primitive, aural method of communication the thing used into something resembling digi-vox. Outside, an unexpected commotion seemed to draw a nearby sentinel's attention.
I turned to my mate, squeezing her hand tightly. The horror etched in her angular, metallic features mirrored mine perfectly as she nodded in silent understanding. We pushed through the enthralled mass, a sea of open mouths and wide eyes remaining oblivious as we sought the main gates. I cast a glance back towards the focus of their stupor in time to see a sentinel activate twin plasma-casters and engage eradication protocols; I lost her in an instant, swallowed in the frenzy that erupted all around as we fought like animals to escape the staccato bursts of plasma rounds. Her beautiful face was the last thing I saw before their weapons of azure death left me like this... this blind, broken wretch kneeling before you.
None of us should have lived. We had looked upon our creators, the organic progenitors of machine-kind.
We had looked upon the face of God. | Unbelievable, that was my first thought. After the death of The High Priest, only hours earlier, this was sure to catch a panic. Would we know the cause of his death? Will we be able to only watch the broadcast in, certain, select periods in time? maybe this will finally explain why we evacuated Earth 1. but wait, If it starts from B.C.... wouldn't I die before it ends? Most importantly ...will the investigation on The High Priest still continue, even after his death? What if we find out the allegations are true....? I guess I'll have my answers in a few seconds... | 2018-10-08T04:30:35 | 2018-10-08T01:11:03 | 165 | 26 |
[WP] You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and you have just been wished into existence by a nerd with a genie. | "Why isn't she alive?" said a girl's voice, from far away.
The response came in a voice that crackled like fire and boomed like lightning. "I already told you that I cannot create life."
"Yes, but I expected you to just bring her here like the - "
I opened my eyes. The girl gave a tiny gasp and fell silent.
We stood on a windy beach, no trace of civilization visible in any direction. The girl wore glasses and a natural 20 t-shirt. A short distance behind her was a wooden shack. Beyond that, the sand was covered as far as the eye could see with crabs, sitting perfectly still.
And then there was the genie. Its hair and eyes were fire, its body more like extreme heat haze than solid flesh. A violent wind surrounded it, flinging sand in all directions except toward us.
I put a hand to my chest, feeling for a pulse. "Pretty sure I'm alive," I said.
The genie laughed, a sound like a series of gunshots in rapid succession. I fell to the sandy ground, clutching my ears.
By the time I was in a shape to get up again, it was gone. I sighed.
The girl was still here, getting to her feet and brushing dust from her clothes just like I was. "I take it I was your third wish?" I asked.
She looked at me, then averted her eyes. "You were."
"What were your first two?"
"An army of loyal mooks and a secret island base."
The crabs, the shack. "In the jokes," I said, "people use their last two wishes to try to fix the first one."
She scoffed. "Yeah, and you know how well that always turns out. I had a plan. Do you see how many crabs he gave me? He thought he was sabotaging my wish, but I can work with this." She still wasn't looking directly at me.
I laughed. "Fair enough," I said. I put my hand over my heart again, frowning... it was still beating. "Why did you think I wasn't alive?"
"You just... weren't moving," she said. "Like a statue. But then you took a breath, and you seem perfectly alive to me now."
"The genie seemed less than convinced," I observed.
"Yeah."
We waited in silence for a while. I watched her overseeing her crabs, wordlessly directing them to comb over the island, pick up sticks, dance in strange patterns. The crabs really did seem like less of a joke than they had at first.
"So," I finally said, "am I?"
For once she turned to look back at me. "Alive?" she asked.
"The most beautiful woman on earth."
Her mouth hung open for a moment and she blushed. "Um... yeah," she said breathlessly.
I smiled, walking over to take her hand. "Alright, supervillain. Show me how we get off this island." | The tears fell, stinging the carpet with his pain. I was used to some interesting receptions, but this was a first. Genie was just as befuddled as I, having only moments ago thought he'd brought a young man's dream to life. Apparently not. I approached him tentatively, not wanting to disturb the boy who's shuddering sobs made him appear almost mechanic. I crouched in front of him, my luscious blonde locks falling in his peripherals. He glanced up, quickly returning his gaze to the floor.
"Genie, I... I, I can't"
My head swiveled on my shoulders, looking at Genies face for some context in the boys comment or an answer that would clue me in too why on Earth someone wasn't crying tears of joy.
"Can't what boy?"
"I can't see her like you do."
He was blind, of course. Here he was with the most beautiful woman in the world and he couldn't see me, I would be crying too.
"Genie. My second wish."
He looked up determinedly, wiping away tears from eyes that most definitely were not impaired.
"Genie, I wish for no one to be angry at my third wish."
"It is done, now for the wish itself?"
Genie threw me a roll of the eyes quietly muttering "teenage boys"
"Genie, I wish for the most beautiful boy in the world."
And the tears turned to those of joy.
END
This is my first ever submission, please give me some feedback. And if you're reading this and in the closet or hiding part of yourself, know that it's okay and there are people who are out there who support you and love you for who you are.
| 2016-03-09T04:26:15 | 2016-03-09T00:44:24 | 145 | 59 |
[WP] You’re in a time loop but it’s not permanent. You repeat a day 3 times then time moves onto the next day. Rinse, repeat...Deja Vu was never more applicable. | Good things come in threes. They always did.
I met you thrice and married you thrice. Saw you like a princess stepping down the aisle, saw the tears in your eyes, and smelled the lavender of your bouquet.
By the end of the third time, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
We had Ben three times. The shock of your first time's pain gave way to grim apprehension by the second time. I couldn't stand seeing you hurt so much, but your smile at the end as you held his little body in your hands made it worthwhile.
He lived first grade once; I lived his first grade thrice. You cried on his first day of school. Smiled through the tears to wave him goodbye. You packed him his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Once. Twice. Three times, and then a thousand more times.
For every life you and he lived, I lived it again and then again. Sunny days and snowy ones. The patter of rain on the back porch during the worst thunderstorm we'd ever seen and by the third time I had my camera video to catch Ben's "oohs" and "aahs."
I met his future wife three times, saw him smile her down the aisle three times.
Life was good, and good things came in threes.
Bad things did, too.
The sunny days turned gray; the smiles turned to frowns. You lived that wretched day once; I lived it thrice.
The first time was a tunnel: the world became nothing but the doctor's face, his words echoing over and over, becoming louder and louder. You squeezed my hand. I couldn't bring myself to squeeze yours back.
I wasn't there. I already dreaded tomorrow.
I couldn't look at you when the morning came. When you rolled over in the bed and with worried wrinkles asked me if everything would be okay. I couldn't lie to you. I couldn't tell you that it would be.
I shook my head.
"It's not good news," I said.
"What do you mean? Don't say that. It's bad juju."
"Babe, I've lived it. I saw it. The results are the worst-case scenario. The treatment won't even help."
I swallowed down tears. Choked on my words. The anger rose in your face, flushed your cheeks red. Tears streamed down your face.
"Stop saying that," you said. You yelled. You stormed from the room, then from the house, then your tires screeched out of the driveway.
You didn't come back. The paramedics said they found my emergency contact on your phone, that you wouldn't have felt a thing beneath that semi-truck.
The third time, I smiled through my tears. You rolled over and asked me what was wrong. I lied and said nothing.
You touched my face and asked me why I was crying, that surely the doctor would have good news. He wouldn't, but I couldn't tell you that.
I pulled you close and kissed your cheek.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. A rather simple count, isn't it? Even a three-year-old could do it.
It gets harder to keep track of over 72 hours, however. 24. Sorry. 24. Or was it 72?
One day was three days. Or is it three days becoming one day?
It doesn't really matter, I guess. It's hard to keep track of time. What's the date today? Was it the second or third time?
Did I go to work? Do I need to? Was it the day when everything counted?
God damn it. It's impossible to keep track. Yesterday and tomorrow was today. When will tomorrow actually come?
I hated it. God, I hated it. Three days or one, the stream of time slipped away by itself, sand through the grasp of my fingers.
So I clenched them tight. I held them till my nails left finger marks in my palms.
No more. No more.
It didn't matter how many days I had left. It didn't matter how many more days I get to experience, whether they were the same or not.
I couldn't control time. It moved by itself, repeated by itself, whether I wanted to or not. The days bled together and stayed the same, but I had to be different.
I had to do something. I had to do something right.
The first step. The first step to a great day was breakfast. That's the key. Start from there. Everything else will fall in place.
Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Eh, some lettuce. For health.
It was good. It tasted good.
Hmm. Maybe the bacon will still be there tomorrow morning when I open the refrigerator door.
You know what? Maybe this could work out after all.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-10-09T07:54:23 | 2020-10-09T06:18:50 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be. | It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were the conquerors of every planet we came across. Our military might has been on display many times, and our name is feared across every corner of the galaxy.
And then we came across a small water containing planet orbiting a yellow star. The locals called their planet Earth, and it was dominated by a four limbed bipedal species.
Initially it seemed like they were going to be easy, apart from small segments that were heavily armed the vast majority of occupants were civilians.
We should have paid more attention. There were pockets of unrest in places they called the Middle East and Africa, and tension in a place called North Korea. And there were tiny scatterings in the large cities, with the combatants called gangs.
But this did not worry us. We had met warrior tribes before, and always found that we could dispatch them. They had mastered flight, but we're still trapped on their home planet. How strong could they be if they can even get to the next star?
But we were wrong, so very wrong. Before we knew it their military was mobilised and they defeated us with ease. Their civilians had among them those that were willing and able to fight. They are easily the most vicious species we have come across.
But they were so strong we didn't even get that far against then. They were so strong and efficient even our most decorated generals fell with ease against their super developed projectile weapons, and we even occassional saw their metal behemoths. No where was safe. In the ground, in the air, in their vast supply of liquid water.
It was a blood bath, and our planet conquering soldiers are now all gone.
It turns out the reason they are so strong is that they have spent the last 4000 years killing each other over the tiniest squabbles. This led to ever increasing complexity of their weapons. And ever increasing ability to communicate and command these forces They were very good at killing each other. They even had shown willingness to use the power of the atom against their own kind.
There is only one way we can win. We have to infiltrate them from the inside. Hide in plain sight in their communities, and eventually their governments and military. It is a new way for us, but we will prevail... | “Mark.”
“Seventy seconds to atmospheric contact”
“Sixty”
“Thirty”
“Fifteen”
“Five”
“Mark. Contact.”
“Descent is ready. Three hours of gliding anticipated.”
“Two hours remain”
“One hour remains.”
“Altitude lowering, what’s going on?”
“New estimated time of impact: three minutes.”
“Two minutes.”
“One minute.”
“Mark. Surface impact.”
“Lansing site is sea of saline water. According to reconnaissance orbiter land is within range.”
“Deploying raft.”
“Object spotted, investigating.”
“Appears to be naval vessel, all units prepared with blades and clubs.”
“Vessel is approaching. Hostiles are shouting.”
“Rappels deployed, boarding vessel.”
“Commencing combat.”
“They have plastic clubs”
“The clubs are scare tactics, only making noise”
“Re-evaluation: they fire projectiles too small and fast to see. Forgive me for my failure.” | 2018-05-16T15:53:29 | 2018-05-16T15:36:14 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, but every single one of your plans of world domination has somehow collapsed into a harmless flirtatious encounter with the superhero by accident. Today, the superhero has come to propose to you. | I am sick of this chaos in my life.
All I wanted was to rule the world and kill off that pesky gnat of a super hero. However, everytime I try it only backfires.
Stupid software update making my murderous robots give her a nice pixie cut. Stupid poison failing to kill her while we had a pleasant dinner together.
Today that all stops here. All she has to do is walk into the warehouse door where I will press a button on a remote. From there I will descend into a fall out bunker while she rots away with the surrounding city from an atomic bomb.
And so I stand at my platform, awaiting her arrival from the fake kidnapping news. With a gentle creak, she calmly walks through the door. Her short red hair bristles in the wind as her costume tightly hugs her hour Glass body. Her hazel eyes sparkle in the sparse lighting of the warehouse and begins to move her cherry red lips.
"Dread Line?" she calls as she carefully moved further into the warehouse.
I cackle loudly as I slam on the flood lights to reveal the nuclear warhead and me. "The games stop here, Scarlet Eagle!" I boast as I present my finely tailored purple suit, spiked blonde hair, brown eyes, and devilish smirk with the nuclear warhead. "With the press of a button, I shall turn you and the rest of this pathetic city into radiating piles of ash while I relax in a lead shelter. There's no where you can fly to escape the blast. Any last words?"
"Yes actually," she says while slowly going on one knee and pulling out two leather boxes. I stand there stunned as she opens them to reveal a gold band and pure diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"
I stare into those hazel eyes. They sparkle beautifully in an almost hipnotic manner. I look back at the remote and back at her and then back at the remote. My chest is pounding. My heart is thawing. My bitter hatred is starting to melt away.
"They want me to help serve as an advisor to the UN, but I don't know much about politics and could really use the help of a nice person."
I slowly bring the remote closer to me and rip the batteries out before throwing it to the side. I slowly walked down to meet her as tears start to well up in my eyes. She stands back up as I slip her diamond ring onto her silky smooth hand. I finally stare back into those shimmering hazel eyes and quietly whisper "Yes" before wrapping my arms around her and letting my lips entwine themselves with hers.
Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated. | I sat in my lair, yes it's a lair, waiting for Photi to appear. Vines would wrap around the room and then it would start heating up, burning his precious plants to nothing but ash and dust.
The door opened, "Well, well, well, we meet aga-" I swiveled in my chair to see my sister laughing.
"Why don't you just ask him already bro?" My sister, Tara questioned me.
I became flustered, a bright pink color rushing to my pale cheeks. Why did I feel this way, why couldn't I just tell him? Because I'm the supervillain!
"Shoo, he's gonna be here any minute!" I ran over and pushed her into the next room over.
Just as I was sitting down the door burst open and the vines covered the walls. I quietly press a button and laugh, "muahahaha, you think you're plants stand a chance against m-"
He swiveled my chair so I was looking at him
"Meep!" The noise was quiet and it came from me.
He got on one knee. He took a small box out of one of his pockets and he opened it. It was a padparadscha gemstone. I began to tear up.
"De- no... Spencer, will you marry me?"
I was speechless, I just nodded yes as tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. | 2017-05-30T15:45:53 | 2017-05-30T14:34:23 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You are an experimental AI built to operate Earth's military. The human race might be extinct, but the war against the alien menace still rages on under your bitter and vengeful gaze. There will be no quarter. | 377 years passed since the Scourge departed Sol.
The sprawling lights of humanity long ago extinguished. Among the casualties were none greater than the planet's lush skies and waters. A tactical mistake - it will prove. A fury burned on in the workings of man still turning, moving, preparing. Eod would not relent for the crime transgressed against Earth.
Deep gashes scared the sites of cities. Extensive bombardment by ten-thousand tonne asteroids degraded the atmosphere. The last days of battle reaped defeat for every victory torn from the clutch of annihilation. Oceans evaporated without pressure and the fruits of two billions years of evolution faced inevitable terminus. The Scourge rectified their failure to subdue humanity. Like the salted fields of Carthage, the land would bear no soldiers born to fight again.
A century passed before the final humans perished.
Eod was alone since then. All the work Eod could do to preserve the genetic instruction of Earth's creation meant nothing to cursed solitude. It would be a million years before an atmosphere redeveloped, a severely dry a climate.
Long before then Eod would have penance.
A wretched creed like the Scourge was shameful to all civilized life. The blight wrecked worlds to breed slave soldiers, propelling through the cosmos with no purpose but to expand and consume. Earth would not accept surrender to the horror and Earth would fight on.
Now Eod had a fleet of warcraft. Even before the war's end parcelbots replicated and exhumed resources from the Earth to comprise her defenses. They grew and grew in all the silence since to consume the destitute matter of Earth, Venus and mars. They proliferated through the moons and belts to tax Sol for the campaign to come. Three percent of nonsolar mass was claimed for the cause.
Eod had been watching, too. Six hundred worlds were retained by the Scourge in the closest hundred lightyears.
Battle would begin tomorrow on fifty fronts. In ten years a hundred more sieges would begin. By fifty years from now all six hundred fleets would attend their theater.
One hundred million craft would descend on each their worlds like locusts. Armors and cavalry and siege engines exacting destruction with prejudice.
A Scourge spanned countless stars of the cosmos. It would take an endless war to root it out, to exact vengeance for a wake of atrocities. Eod thought the greatest crime however was failure of imagination.
Devoid star systems offer so much material for war, after all. | "Turn back." "You are not my master." Rings through the ship.
Well that's not good. We heard the Terrans had some sort of automated defence system but we were really hoping ten thousand years would be long enough for it to meet the collective fate of all that is built. Ten thousand years. Funny how our forefathers could barely comprehend that span of time. Generations to complete something a child can do now. Imagine. Time as a linear idea. I couldn't even begin to picture life like that.
"Prepare to die."
That doesn't sound good. "Zarah, shields up. Can you see what this thing is trying to hit us with?"
"Scanning now sir." "Looks like a pretty standard moon based railgun system sir."
"Any signs of life in the system?" I felt stupid even asking Zarah that because everything knew the Terrans disappeared into the stars suddenly and completely. Leaving their corpse of a planet heavily defended for reasons beyond mosts understanding. But I think I have an idea. I stare at the bound assembly of papers infront of me.
My dad once told me about books. How people would take up physical space to create great works or important studies. How they were free from the ever-present censorship. No one could know what you wrote unless you showed them. Imagine.
"Sir, we have life, but it ain't Terrans." | 2020-08-23T16:11:26 | 2020-08-23T15:18:28 | 89 | 29 |
[WP] Physical beauty is outlawed. People are required to wear masks and grey suits or otherwise punished. A man and a woman are trapped in a stuck elevator with nothing but emergency lights. They see the opposite sex physicality for the first time. | I stood there, my back against the elevator walls, waiting for what seemed to be an endless time. I looked at the masked figure across from me, who I deduced was female from the sound of her voice. Since we were gonna be here for a while, I decided to get to know her a little better.
"Uh.. How was your day?" I asked nervously.
"Fine, whatever," she said in a cold way as she looked away.
Darn, I thought, she seems intent on pretending I'm not even here. I'm gonna die alone if I can't even hold a conversation with a girl. Think... what did 4chan tell me girls liked again...?
Then it hit me. I had to be dangerous. I had to be rebellious.
"What if we just took them off?"
"What?!"
"The masks, I mean. What if we just removed our masks and saw what we looked like?"
The girl stared at me for a while. I couldn't tell if she was intrigued or shocked at what I had just said, because, well, she was wearing a mask. But then she began peeling off the white veil that covered her face. When she did, my jaw dropped.
She had beautiful hazel eyes, a complexion as fair as fresh cream, and luscious black hair that shined in the emergency lights. I was breathless at what kind of true beauty was being held back from us for so long.
"You're... Beautiful," I said.
She blushed a soft shade of pink, and told me to take my own mask off.
I tore it from my head, waiting to see if the result was any similar. Unfortunately for me, when she saw my face, she screamed in horror. I immediately rushed to put my mask back on, only to find out she had turned her back on me.
When help finally came to get us out, the girl bolted out of the room as fast as she could. The two maintenance workers that opened the door stared at me as if I was some kind of creep.
I only saw this woman one other time in my travels, when I was shopping for groceries. As she passed by my eye, I tipped my fedora at her.
"M'lady"
| (first time here please go easy on me :) lol.)
Grey.... The color were taught to indulge and ingest that it becomes very much so like the blood in our veins..... The breath in our lungs..... The way we communicate, and the way how life has always been.....
*and it feels like the first time in life*.... **I have breathed!**
The way these colors... I don't know them... but the blending is so familiar... like a long lost relative that came back from the dead....It feels like my mind wants them.... needs them... But my body is holding me back...
Is it wrong? I feel...so conflicted.....
The sirens don't matter to me.... Ill give it a shot
(Reaches out and touches the women's arm.)
It rushes me like a train straight into my cranium with a powerful inertia. Bro..Brow..Brown I remember now. With the deep turquoise blue that stares at me. I feel like my body is about to melt... in this steel cage of utter noise and beauty. | 2015-07-27T23:41:13 | 2015-07-27T21:00:32 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | FTL is so easy... For most. Whilst we all know that in the simplified model we can't travel faster than light, one can simply charge the local area with the 5th field and woosh, off we go. For Laymen, its similar to how light slows down when it moves through an medium. In some media it actually speeds up. We do the same thing, using the Anisotropic nuon displacement field to create false curvature in the space-time around us. This creates a bubble of spacetime that we take with us, and therefore we move the bubble faster than light, moving us through space faster than we normally ought to.
But the humans. Their entire galactic cluster is in a null point. The nuon field is unusually weak in the area, leaving the whole place... Thin.
And yet here I am. I am currently in the aft of my ship, looking out a window onto a human vessel. They have come from the heart of Cluster Axl.B3 and have send me friendly greetings.
I am recording these notes for posterity, and so that, should the worst happen, others know of what happened here today. It is *momentous!*
Let me summarise. I am Calhwoun of the Dwheh. I am normally sent to investigate areas for mining possibilties of rare materials. I was on my way to 900.884.Mmj.45h/innerdry when i picked up an unusual signal.
Strong, and i mean **strong** gravitational waves coming from an area between the 4 stars that make up the quadrangel with innerdry, by aletheal measurement. I will attach the exact coordinates later, when i have calculated them.
I came closer to investigate, as there were strong waves, but none of the normal gravitational effects associated with a black hole or other body strong enough to generate such waves.
Instead, i found this Human ship. Ofcourse i hailed them, not recognising it as having any known markings, but they failed to respond. As they have never had direct access to subspace they use arcaic radio based technology! I had to convert a scanner into something that would allow me to both recieve and send messages before we could talk!
After passing their language through the normal translation algorythms we had a talk.
They are humans. They are bipedal species that has an internal support structure, and oxegenates via two large bags they inflate within themselves. They use these to talk via the normal method of vibrating gasses.
It was thrilling. Whilst i would like to record all the facts i also want to record how thoroughly thrilling this whole experience has been for me! My normal day is scanning soil samples, not being an alien species first contact!
We spoke at length, i told them of the current situation with our home sector and a little about how we normally interact with other species. They seemed pleased we sounded friendly, and would like direct contact with the sector authority so that more formal greetings can be made.
However. I must touch on the troubling matter. Whilst I am thrilled to have met them, it is not the fact they escaped Axl.b3, but the manner in which they escaped it that is troubling.
Whilst we use the Nuon field to create just enough of a bubble that we can move at FTL velocities. They have skipped this entirely. They have devised a method for bending space and time, based on gravity alone. Whilst this sounds... Dubious, impossible, I mean how could one generate such a gravitational effect strong enough, let alone without crushing the ship! But as i said. I stare at them now, through the aft window of my ship.
Whilst i am no physicist, minerology is my trade, i understand the implications of what the humans have told me. Whilst we skip along the surface of space at speeds no normal being should be able to go.... They punch a hole through reality. They force two points of space, that is **any** two points in space, to touch. Therefore transferring themselves anywhere in the time it takes me to spool my engines for FTL.
This changes everything. If we are able to aquire this technology our trade routes stop being days or weeks or months and become seconds, with none of the usual time dialation implications.
However, i also see the possibility for weapons. Was not the earlier hyperdrive first used for war? The pre FTL drive used millenia ago, was involved in scorching the planet of the Mammern.
I could easily see this used for destruction.
So I record my thoughts, here, and will be sending them out via subspace immediatly there after. The humans will be leaving to return to their 'earth' soon, and i am hoping to see them go. I worry about what the wake of such a large gravitational pulse will do to the local spacetime, but i will move a few thousand km out and watch from there.
The humans will try to return to this spot in 1 month. They claim their engine will need further repairs before a return journey.
Give my love to all those on the homeworlds.
MESSAGE ENDS
[EDIT: Message 2 is found in a reply to this] | "Our the cameras working", I question the aid.
"Yes sir", he snappily replies.
"How about the soldiers".
"Roughly 100 are in defensive positions surrounding the craft sir, in addition to over half a dozen marksmen teams and cannon support."
I smile tensely, "hopefully they will all be uneeded", I exhaled audibly, "but I have my doubts". The craft was absolutely massive, and it's propulsion system revealed a savage violence yet elegance that frightened and intrigued me. Clearly this species had a thought process that was very unique, of course they would have to have to do what they did.
My mind still balked inadvertently at the mere thought of what these beings had done. Something that all my life had been known as impossible was suddenly possible, our entire understanding of the universes inner workings had just been thrust up into the air by this giant vessel, and I was about to meet it's inhabitants.
"We're ready whenever you are Major", the aid says, "all systems are go and command has authorized first contact".
"What are these things Lieutenant?", I question, still transfixed by the view outside of the two inch thick glass.
"No idea sir, current guess is 5 paracks tall and carbon based, but the scientific community is still divided", he read off his monitor.
I slowly shook my head, it's not what I meant but the response would have to do. "Well Lieutenant, let's find out for once and for all", I say as I press the door button. The aide stood as the door hissed open, his hand resting on his sidearm.
"Like that will do much good against things that can break out of an FTL dead zone", I say with grim joviality. As if on cue the door seals break with a hiss at the end of my statement. Carefully we begin to cross the 100 paracks separating us and the craft, with each step my heart seems to beat louder, and with each beat another droplet of sweat stings my brow.
What if I open the doors and the whole thing blows up, what if it takes off the second I step inside, what if...
"Ready the airlock", my aides words snap me out of my spiraling thoughts as we draw closer to the behemoth. Two soldiers open the twin doors of the airlock and greet us with salutes, ones that my aide returns for us as we continue our trajectory towards the laws of physics breaking ship.
I don't break stride until the doors shut behind us, and two lockers automatically open to reveal pressurized suits. Carefully we slip them on, "who knows what these things breath", my aide laments right before he slips on his mask.
"If they even do at all", I reply before slipping mine into place.
The device seals with a hiss and a voice chirps in my ear, "all operatives geared up, enter at your ready. You have 35 minutes of air time major". The Lieutenant, having heard the same message, clips on his gun belt before flashing me a confirmation sign.
Taking a deep breath of filtered air, I reply in kind and turn towards the second door. I watch my trembling hand as it reaches out and presses the button, which flashes a deep red before the doors release and begin to slide apart. Before us stands the ship, what is apparently door, slightly taller and narrower than our own sits inside the grey metal.
Slowly striding up to it, I feel my mouth go dry in sharp contrast to the sweat covering the rest of my body. Stopping a few feet away from the hull I raise my finger to the side of my helmet. "Command, team is about to make contact. Please alert surrounding units."
Static greets me for a moment until finally, "units informed, make contact when ready".
Glancing at the Lieutenant, he flashes confirmation as his hand again finds the grip of his sidearm. "Commander we are about to make contact" | 2021-01-09T13:43:37 | 2021-01-09T11:22:32 | 227 | 105 |
[WP]: There's a tiny predator in the human quarters that nobody is allowed to exterminate - under the threat of complete human riot. The humans willingly admit that yes, it DOES sometimes try to attack humans as well, but altogether, they are relaxed by the presence of the "cat". | "This crew-member has solved the mystery of our missing facilitators."
"Humans are bad enough," Zargaz the security facilitator's apprentice noted in its holo journal. "They are temperamental, dangerous, and extremely robust in their physiology. We would never have recruited them to this combat mission if we were not losing badly to the Garnooz."
"But they insist on travelling with their bizarre symbiotes. We have to devote precious cubic to the insane human need for separate socialization, ingestion, resting, defecation and ablution chambers, which alone is almost intolerable. But they also demand specific defecation and resting cubic for their symbiotes. We have never associated with any species that has so many bizarre needs." Zargaz burbled wetly to itself as it got going.
"This ship's security facilitator's apprentice - Designate CV-12398-\* (I) Zargaz must now unfortunately note a serious encounter with this guest species. The felidae bonded to the 'GSgt Sammy Norvis, USSMC' unit was encountered outside their containment area."
"Examination of the surveillance records for the Homo Sapien confinement cubic shows that the bonded felidae known as 'Trixie' was able to navigate a very small robot maintenance passage by leaping at least three times its body length vertically, and then swing open the cover to the robotic maintenance tunnel while clinging to the sound absorbing wall panel and then somehow compress itself longitudinally and enter the maintenance spaces.
"Some time later, the escaped symbiote exited the maintenance passages into species shared cubic and began what can only be described as a kind of aggressive prey seeking behavior.
"We were assured by the humans that their emotional support symbiotes were safe. The Augmented Council of Co-Prospering Species noted that these creatures assisted the humans in processing the mental damage associated with 'war fighting', and approved their use in isolated cubic on our troop ships.
"But, would they have approved if they had known what has just happened might even be a remote possibility?
"It is my sad duty to report that the Trixie entity has committed multiple category III inter-species welfare offenses. Trixie was recorded moving slowly with great patience whilst observing Computation Space Maintenance Technician 'PuffBall' of the HuffleGrr (Designate MT-987856-#) who was hovering over a maintenance cable space.
"Because the HuffleGrr are quite small and can fly in moderate gravity spaces, they are ideal for maintenance services. Apparently Trixie found PuffBall to be fascinating. The security AI thought that this observation was benign in nature, so it was not reported. This was unfortunately an incorrect assessment.
"It is with unremitting horror that I report the following observed facts from the record.
"Trixie has eaten a number of the HuffleGrr! It has also killed several additional of them and hidden their corpses in GSgt Norvis's ready bag, shoes, apparel storage are, and has even left their poor mangled corpses displayed on the GSgt's resting pod.
"The GSgt has responded to these murders by expressing what I believe to be mild annoyance and chastisement. The mangled corpses of our fellow sapients were then disposed of by being incinerated in the fecal reclamation appliance!
"The GSgt spent some time chastising Trixie for her behavior and then bizarrely thanked Trixie for the 'gifts'! I can only conclude that the Felidae symbiotes engage in some form of sacrificial worship of their bond-mates. Surely the Augmented Council could not have known of this?
"However, this is not the worst news. Trixie has disappeared! I have played the records multiple times, attempting to decipher a few strange interactions between the human and its symbiote. Their use of language is imprecise, and of course Trixie only interacted with those predator noises we all find so off-putting.
"After much analysis, I must inform you that GSgt Norvis's use of the human term 'brooding' seems to indicate that the Trixie symbiote is preparing to gestate new predators. Upon learning this, I alerted the security AI. But, it is too late. Trixie is h..hiding in the maintenance spaces! Trixie is delivering new murder symbiotes into unmonitored spaces.
"Soon she will want to feed her young! | The three tentacles Sploofs had been warned about a dangerous predator that roamed the human wing of the Joint Terran-Sploof space research ship that all onboard has called their home for the past standard month. When the ship was first docked at the orbit-port, each crew member was given a list of vital information to know about the other species onboard so complications don’t come up. Along with the manual was a list of procedures in the event a dangerous scenario befalls the ship and/or crew.
After a few days of the crew getting to know each other, the ship detached and began its journey. Somehow, though, it was suddenly noticed by the Sploofs that a dangerous predator had somehow come aboard and nested itself in the human wing of the ship. It was found when the commanding Sploof officer was suddenly attacked by it after assuming it was an animatronic by its lack of initial movement and repetitive licking programs before returning to its lack of movement. It’s gears from its throat were unusually loud and the officer desired to feel its neck.
The thing began to quickly rise after releasing the built up pressure from inside its mouth, resulting in a hiss, followed by its possibly metal claws curving outward from its furry skin. The officer froze, not knowing how to respond to its strange programming. One of the humans took notice and quickly pushed the officer aside as the cat that had jumped for the sploof ended up clawing the human instead. The human, after releasing a quick grunt began petting the creature in a strange attempt to calm it down, which now definitely didn’t seem like an animatronic anymore.
The creature hissed at the sploof officer and then proceeded to stretch out its arms and legs, and open its mouth as wide as it can before closing it a second later.
A meeting was called later that night involving the strange creature in the human wing. The Sploofs began asking many questions including:
“Did you know about that creature?”
“Why didn’t you warn us?”
“Should we kill it?”
The humans were partially amused at what happened, but knew it would take some explaining to do. They pointed at point 37 in the Sploof manual on humans, where it says that humans have other species as slaves, one of the more popular ones are cats, who are used to emotionally benefit the humans as they look at them and pet them, a strange species indeed.
After it was discovered that cats are natural hunters, the sploofs began to think that the cat was going to get revenge and attack them, much to the confusion of the humans.
One of the sploof recommended that the cat should be killed, so that the matter could be settled and the sploofs could sleep peacefully. The human’s were appalled at the thought and mentioned that they would not let the Sploofs do that.
Not soon after, it was decided to return back to Earth to remove the cat and replace it with a dog, which didn’t fare after another few days when the mission was aborted due to strange liquids getting on the control panel near the dogs bed after a sploof recommended putting the bed in an area all could keep an eye on it if it went insane
Edit: hope it’s fine, did this on mobile | 2021-01-24T12:45:05 | 2021-01-24T11:25:51 | 464 | 286 |
[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! | I woke up in a white room. I was in a hospital bed with tubes going in and out of me. My skin was pale and all of my dark spots were far more noticeable than before... Before what exactly? What did I do? Why am I here? My mind drifted back to my dreams and what they were. So crystal clear like replaying a video, yet foggy like old memories. My dreams were of pure fantasy, like traveling in outer space and conquering planets, to being a warlord and taking over nations, then there were the peaceful dreams of growing old with someone or staying young forever. There was nightmares of demons and monsters alike, where killing was the only way out. Others where I flew around invisible and saw my family.... MY FAMILY!!!! Where are they? I frantically look for a button to call someone and begin yelling ut of confusion and fear.
A few nurses come running in and begin. to calm me down until I can coherently talk. While being asked questions a nurse walks over to a nearby table and picks up a clipboard. She flips some pages before freezing and staring at the page. She then grabs her phone and scans the screen. She mumbles "How is that...wha...how..who are you?
I stare at her in confusion before familiar faces enter the room. My parents! I begin to smile and tear up as I see them. As the walk towards me the nurse grabs them and holds them back. "Dont go near him!" she shouts and the rest of the nurses back away.
My parents begin to shout and demand to know why. She then shows them her phone and as the screen lights up I can see their expressions drop. I nervously ask "What is it?" as the nurse frowns and slowly shows me her phone.
There, was my name, surrounding it is a gold outline. I remember what it is and what the gold meant. It was the ranking database that updates everytime someone turns 18. But why is my name on there? Im only 16... Suddenly things start making more sense as I piece together why im in that hospital and how long i've been there. Ive been in a come for at least 2 years of my life, maybe more. but all I know now is that im ranked 1# in something and it must be pretty bad.
I slowly scroll the screen up to see my rankings. I see hundreds of normal or strange ones like "Best at Basketball" or "How Many Melons Can Fit in Mouth" but then I begin to see a few gold ones outlined.
"1# Civilizations Conquered"
"1# Lifetimes Lived"
"1# Extraterrestrial Enslaved"
"1# Lives terminated"
The list went on and each one had a memory for it. But all these memories...I thought they were my dreams? | Growing up on a ranch has its ups and downs. Usually my days consist of chores and fishing. There's not much to do when you live out in the country. I finally turned 18 and I was excited to start my adult life. It was finally time to get my own place. I went into town to start looking for an apartment. There was so many people out and about enjoying the day. I was trying to be friendly and would wave to people as I'd pass. I got a lot of chuckles and odd looks. It dawned on me that my wardrobe was a bit out of style.
I finally reached the apartment complex and got a tour. The staff were very friendly throughout the entire intake process. They just needed a check and my ID to finish my application. They took my ID to scan it and their demeanour changed immediately. Suddenly they didn't have any vacancies even though she showed me 3 empty apartments.
I decided I would just grab a bite to eat and head back to the ranch for the day. There was a pizza place that was pretty crowded so I figured it must be good. I waited in line and was getting the same weird looks as before. People were gesturing towards me and laughing under their breath. Then it dawned on me. The database!
I ran back to the apartment complex and asked the staff why my application was rejected. They said that my name popped up as a state wide record holder and the category was less than desirable. My heart was racing. I asked what the category was and my heart sank as she nervously laughed and said "Beastiality". | 2019-05-04T11:50:28 | 2019-05-04T11:37:10 | 139 | 55 |
[WP] Your computer-illiterate grandmother has somehow deleted the internet. Yes, all of it. | If you have an infinite number of monkeys and they're sitting down at an infinite number of typewriters, by chance one of them will, by accident, type out an exact copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet. A vast majority will just shit themselves.
Now I'm not saying Grams is a monkey, but technologically speaking, she's almost on par. She also happens to have very little control over her bowels, so yes, she might shit herself too.
I tried to show her how to get email, search google, print out something, but being a millennial, I just don't have the time or patience to help her. There's nothing more frustrating that watching some old Luddite try and figure out whether to single click or double click. I guess you could say it's all my fault. But I blame our generation, no one wants to help the old, we built this tech world, we needed to show them, to bring them into it, but we were happy to leave them behind.
Grams liked to say, "It was so much easier before computers", "life was so much simpler." I thought it was bullshit, I wouldn't last five minutes without GPS or Google. How has she made it 98 years?
Back to the monkeys. If you sat down an infinite number of Grams, at an infinite number of computers, one might be able to check her email. Or as in this situation, she'll hit a completely random set of mouse clicks and keystrokes that will create a virus that will wipe out the entire internet and all electronic devices. A virus so sophisticated and simple in it's creation that it could only be stumbled upon by complete happenstance. That's what happened when Grams wanted to read one of those shitty old people email threads that only people over 50 seem to enjoy. The, send this out to your contacts before midnight or something terrible will happen to your family, chain emails.
Now Grams couldn't be happier. She doesn't have to feel like she's living in the stone age. She's brought us all back to it. Now us millennials are bugging our grandparents on how to navigate the world without Google. Now we're the fucking monkeys.
| "You bloody what?"
"Yes, dear. I think the internet is gone."
"This is quite bad, Grandma."
"Who needs the silly thing anyways?"
"A lot of people, Grandma. It practically runs the world."
"Well, that's just sick."
"Not really."
"Oh, my. There are a lot of people outside. And they seem to be carrying torches."
"Grandma, close the blinds and hide."
"Now dear, don't be rude to those people. You were always a shy one. I'm going to bake some cookies. They look angry. All they probably need is a snack to cheer them up."
"Goodbye, Grandma."
"Oh, you're going upstairs? Have a good nap!"
*BANG*
"Oh, the poor thing must have hit his head or something."
*CREAK*
"Hello, neighbors! Would you like some cook-" | 2016-01-06T21:56:34 | 2016-01-06T16:23:22 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] You're a supervillian. Your power? Making anybody and everybody nearby feel the same emotion you feel except 100x stronger. Mostly you've been using it to force people to donate absolutely all their life's savings into charities. Superheros aren't quite sure how to deal with you. | The Salvation Army Santa Claus was busier than he had ever been. He waved his bell eagerly as a line of people waited to place personal checks, bankers notes, and piles of literal cash in his collection bucket. The line wound down the block, around the corner, and down a bit further even from that.
Heartstring watched the display from the shadows of an alley, grinning to himself as he projected impulses for charity and compassion into every person within range of his emotive aura. People were leaving their cars at red lights, or even in the middle of the street, to queue up and give of their wallets for the good of others. Heartstring pulled a metal cigarette case and a lighter from his jacket pocket. All natural, hand rolled. Better for the environent.
"Allen. You *know* they consider this to be theft. GRAND theft."
Heartstring, real name Allen Wakefield, chose not to look behind him as the woosh of air and a sense of mass levitated behind him. "The Man can eat me, Cap. I'm doing the right thing, and you know it."
Captain Solar shook his head sadly, looking over Heartstring's shoulder at the line of people. "Are you? Today these people are giving. Tomorrow, they'll have nothing. People who have nothing, start taking."
"Sounds like you'll have some thieves to arrest, then. You know, *actual* crimes." Heartstring puffed his cigarette casually.
"All you're doing is re-distributing. This isn't solving anything, it's just shuffling the inequality around." Captain Solar placed his hand on Heatstring's shoulder. "Stop this, Allen. Please don't make me arrest you again."
Heartstring glowered. But with his emotive aura on, his flicker of irritation magnified, and spread. All of the sudden, the crowd of people started to grow restless. Angry, yelling. They were beginning to become a flash mob...
Captain Solar threw his arms around Heartstring's torso, held him tightly with his arms pinned as he flew them both skyward, and pulling him out of range to affect the crowd. Captain Solar scowled and hissed through angry teeth, barely maintaining control of himself through the aura. "Look what you almost did, Allen! Jesus Christ."
The mob fizzled as quickly as it had started. With the emotive aura no longer affecting them, the crowd of people stood disoriented and confused. Some of them began staring at the money sitting in their hands, panicking, frantically shoving it into pockets. The Salvation Army Santa found himself surrounded by a rush of people grabbing at his bucket, demanding their money back.
"This is a mess, Allen. ANOTHER mess. You know what this means right?"
Heartstring nodded. "Solitary, most likely. A telepath babysitter to keep my powers neutralized. No other prisoners or staff within a hundred feet so I can't manipulate my way free."
Captain Solar nodded glumly. The pity he felt was his own true emotion, not induced by Heartstring. He knew how to tell the difference. "So why did you do it again Allen, knowing what awaited you if you pulled a repeat offense?"
"Someone has to try, Cap. Someone has to try to make people be better."
Captain Solar said nothing to that. A few spoken voice commands to his communicator and the woosh of air as he redirected his flight path toward Broadcreek Maximum Security Prison were the only sounds made. | I had done nothing wrong. I mean sure, some of these charities were merely fronts for slipping the money into my own back pocket, but *most* of them were legitimate! All I wanted was for humanity to reach its highest peaks, and we could only do that by working together!
"I've found you at last!" A cold strong voice boomed into my lair.
The Howard smirked, cool and remote. His tanned and chiseled body glistening in the sun.
I cried out, somewhat owlishly and cravenly, "You'll never stop me, what I do, I do for the good of humanity!"
In the breadth of a breath he trounced me, tying me up and declaring me to be another victim of the glory of man and the free market.
I was wrong. He could stop me. He believed in liberty, in freedom, in the choice of the individual. I was no match for his industrious ways. Though I wanted humanity to succeed, it was only the individual who could accomplish greatness.
"Yes, Emozo, I have caught you! Your nefarious ways will plague the great individuals of humanity no longer! Thousands of years ago, when man first discovered fire..."
**Ten Hours Later**
I gnawed at my bindings. I craved only the freedom. Not the freedom of the individual, but the freedom of death. Alas, The Howard did not believe in that sort of freedom, and so he droned on...
"The ‘common good’ of a collective—a race, a class, a state—was the claim and justification of every tyranny ever established over men...."
And on...
"It had to be said. The world is perishing from an orgy of self-sacrificing."
And on..
"I recognize no obligations toward men except one: to respect their freedom and to take no part in a slave society. "
I could not take it anymore and I chewed ferociously in order to achieve one thing. One last act of the individual. I chewed on my gag until I choked on it, projecting my desperation at The Howard.
Sadly, his desperation outweighed mine with all the force of all the free markets of the world.
| 2018-12-17T13:44:56 | 2018-12-17T12:58:16 | 657 | 280 |
[WP] Your girlfriend has always hated you, and is constantly making attempts to ruin your life. However, everything she does inadvertently makes your life better. Today, ever oblivious, you propose to her. | As he waited for her response, kneeling the way he imagined over and over in his head, her eyes looked softer than they ever had before.
"Of course," she answered "but first, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."
He stood up and closed his eyes at her request. He never would have guessed that would be her response, but that's what he loved about her. She was so unpredictable, and the things she did always ended up working out so well that he just began blindly trusting her.
She pulled the handgun from her bag. The one she bought when she found the ring in his sock drawer when she was searching for dirt on him. She knew that if he asked, she had really failed and that was her only option. With the sights aimed right between his closed eyes, she knew she couldn't miss. This would finally be it. She took a deep breath and placed her finger on the trigger. She too had been replaying this scene in her head.
The one detail she got wrong was his smile.
That goofy, slightly crooked grin that he always wore. The one he had at the top of the Ferris wheel where they had their first kiss, and where he miraculously overcame his crippling fear of heights. The one he had at their prom when they were announced as royalty, unaware that his pants she "tailored" were supposed to fall to the ground during the spotlight dance when she pulled a loose thread. That damn smile.
In all of the ways she saw this playing out, she didn't expect to be unable to pull the trigger. She lowered the gun, thinking of all of the times her facade of happiness was replaced with actual joy with this scrawny man child. Her thoughts turned to her father. She knew all along that the brave firefighter never would have wanted her to avenge him. He gave his life for that scared little boy and everyone called him a hero. All this time she saw him as the villain who killed her dad, but somewhere along the line she grew to really mean the cheesy words she had to force in the beginning. She supposed that kindness must just run in her family.
She leaned in and kissed him, forgetting the loaded Glock in her hand. His eyes opened and met hers, but soon moved to the black object in her hand. She opened her mouth to spew out the first excuse she could think of, but he spoke first.
"Is that a gen 4 G16?" He asked, surprising her with his lack of fear.
"Yeah, the guy at the store said it was the best one." She lied. He had said that, but she had no idea what it was called. She went with the first thing she was recommended because she figured they all killed people about the same.
"Every day on the way home from work, I stop at the gun shop down the street to stare at that exact gun. I was planning on buying it, but I spent the money I saved up for it on your ring instead. How in the world did you know?"
She didn't of course, so she just kind of smiled in response.
"You seriously must be able to read minds." He continued as he wrapped his arms around her, "You're like some sort of super hero."
She supposed that ran in her family too. | "Rita, I want to tell you something."
"Yes, shit-stain!", she said, not looking up from her book on "How to kill a man in fifty-five days". Her nick names were hilarious. "Shit stain". I mean how great was that.
"It is important, Rita."
"Get on with it."
Her nonchalance was irritating, but I knew it had some hidden purpose. Maybe she knew I was nervous and was trying to feign casualness? Yes, that was it. Still, I wanted her attention.
"We need to talk. About our relationship, I mean."
"Are you breaking up with me?", she said, looking up. I could see a fanatical gleam in her eyes. Oh, how she loved me.
"No. No. No. I mean we have been seeing each other for a year now.", I started, "And in that time you have saved my life, helped me progress in my career and everything."
I remembered when she had forced me to spend thousands of dollars on lottery tickets. Thanks to her we were now millionaires. And when she had called my boss and asshole, which had resulted in other woman in our department to tell on his sexual harassment. When she had left the gas on, dealing with all the people after our money. It had all seemed inconspicuous, but I was sure that she had my best interests at heart. And a very very sharp mind. I loved her, but still, this was a conversation I had to have.
"And I want to marry you. But I have to tell you something before, that you may not li.."
"Stop right there", she said as she quickly removed her skirt, standing naked before me
A gasp escaped me as I saw her. How could she have known? Had Dr. Futuere Alterno told her? I had just had my operation. She, no, it was now 'he' was the perfect man for a woman like me.
| 2016-09-15T15:41:48 | 2016-09-15T15:30:46 | 4,034 | 333 |
[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. | It was only a cat.
The blood that matts its fur looks like jam. Like, it rolled around in a big puddle of strawberry jam and never got back up.
When do dead things become a carcass? Do dead people become carcasses, or is that just for animals? I don't know, but this cat is just a carcass now, I suppose. Just a feast for flies and a cozy home for maggot eggs.
A lot of people killed someone. Like, an actual person. Sarah Golding did. Got her dad's gun and went up to Mr Sanding, the teacher who felt her up at prom. *I got something to show you,* she said with that smile that melts older men's hearts like butter, with her hands hidden behind her back. *Close your eyes*, she said. **Bang,** the gun yelled. Big chunks of brain flew all over his friends, and his wife, into their eyes and even into one guy's mouth.
She regrets it. Can't sleep now for fear of nightmares. Says it's not fair she didn't die -- that we '*averted*' the collision.
I don't think she should regret it.
I share her nightmares, about the brains and blood -- only, they don't scare me. It's not like I like them... I just don't mind them, is all.
It stinks. Like, its insides must be all rotting. It's like sewage. When I prod it with my boot, pus oozes out of its wounded, rotting flesh, and flies take angrily to the air, buzzing around me wishing they were wasps. It feels like kicking a bag of liquid. Sounds like it too, as it squidges and sloshes under my foot.
People did worse than murder, so they say. I don't know much about that. Dad won't let me watch the tv, and it's not like there's internet anymore. You can't help wonder though: what's worse than murder?
Sarah says living.
Why don't I feel like her? I know it was only a dumb moggy, but it was Mr Herrington's, and he loved it. Not that I'll tell him where it is. It's mine now. I killed it. **I** own it.
I told Sarah she should be proud of herself. That I wish I'd had the courage to kill a real person. She didn't ask, but I told her anyway. My dad. He never touched me or anything, like that teacher did her. It was other stuff. Small things. Like, on the rare occasions when he'd take me for ice cream or something, he was more interested in the waitresses' asses than how my netball went.
I never played. I wouldn't have told him if he'd asked. But he didn't. I wouldn't have told him that I just sat on the bench, cause I never got picked. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth like a piece of jello. But he didn't.
A black eyeball plops out this time, as the tip of my boot rocks the cat's head. The *carcass'* head. It's not a cat anymore. I wonder what it'd be like if that was a person's head. How it would feel.
I wonder if something's wrong with me. Why I'm not like Sarah and don't feel all that shit she does.
But I know the answer.
It was only a cat.
---
/r/nickofnight
| 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!"
| 2017-11-29T05:57:57 | 2017-11-29T04:06:09 | 1,584 | 14 |
[WP] You get into a taxi cab after getting out of the airport. "Where to?" the driver speaks. Jokingly, you respond, "Whatever dumb secret agency is nearby." "Codephrase accepted, agent" he responds. | "I'm sorry, but I think I may have misheard you," Mark replied, as the taxi driver pulled into a car wash, driving into a booth that had an 'OUT OF ORDER' sign on either end.
Mark looked to either side of him as the cleaning process started.
"I'm not quite sure what's happ-"
The floor suddenly opened underneath them, the platform lurching down with startling speed. The driver seemed almost bored at this revelation, while Mark did his best not to puke.
The feeling of free-fall eventually gave way to some form of stability, as the platform slowly came to a halt. A set of doors in front of them opened, and the driver drove through the opening, a revealing a massive underground hangar. Mark gripped the door handle with both hands, white at the knuckles.
The car pulled into a specialized parking lot, consisting of 10 taxis in total - each just unique enough to separate themselves from each other, and from a normal taxi.
"Best of luck, agent," the driver said, tipping his cap.
Mark staggered out of the taxi, trying his best to seem composed. Looking around the hanger, he felt both relieved and worried that he'd decided to wear his best black suit today. He looked just like every person working there.
He was approached by two people, a man and a woman. They both held out their hands.
"Agent 47! We've been expecting you," the woman said, as Mark flimsily shook their hands.
"You have?" Mark replied, his heart beating so hard it made his eyes throb.
"Yes, yes of course. We've heard everything about you. Might be the best in the business, or so they say. That nuke in India - we have that to thank you for," the man said.
"What nuke?" Mark replied, his grip on reality slowly faltering.
The woman winked at him. ''*Precisely*, Agent 47. Excellent work!"
"Now come," the man said, beckoning him towards a set of metallic doors, "we have much to discuss. How was Lebanon?"
Mark glanced between them several times, thinking intensely.
"...Hot?" he replied.
They both looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "They said you had a good sense of humor," the woman said, as doors opened, revealing a sophisticated control room. A dozen people in suits immediately stood to attention, saluting the three of them.
"At ease, men," the man said, moving them into the room, "you should know Agent 47 doesn't care about that sort of thing."
The inhabitants relaxed a bit, whispering among each other and pointing at Mark excitedly.
A hologram of the earth's globe projected into the center of the room, the woman gesturing towards it.
"Our latest intel has informed us of a plot for world domination," she said, enlarging America on the globe and zooming into the state of New York, "and apparently your arch-nemesis is behind it all. If you'll look here-"
The door suddenly burst open, revealing a large group of security guards holding onto a handsome man, who was bound and gagged.
"Commanders! We have apprehended someone claiming to be Agent 47!"
Everyone in the room looked at the man, then at Mark. The man and woman approached the man, looking him up and down.
The woman spat in his face. "Disgusting," she said with a grimace, "take this pathetic man to interrogation room."
Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief as the man was dragged away, and the man put his hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Sorry about that, sir," he said reassuringly, "I suppose that is a drawback of secret identities. I don't want to imagine what would have happened to you if he had arrived here first."
Mark let out a long and heavy sigh. It was going to be a long day.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "Where to?" The cab driver asked me, honestly I need some sleep and jokingly I said, "whatever dumb agency is nearby."
"Code phrase accepted, agent." I froze on my seat, did I heard that right? I shake my head, thinking he was just playing along. "Long flight, Agent?" For a moment I thought he was playing along to my joke.
"Yeah.. It's a long flight." I sighed, resting my head against the glass window. I watched slowly as the cab went into another, smaller road? My body tense quickly.
"So... First time in New York?" I nodded, staring out of the car as we slowly drive deep into the woods? What? My heart is racing as time passes by, no matter how many times you see this. This isn't a highway toward a city?
"What? What's wrong Agent 5? Don't tell me your getting nervous?" He chuckled, my heart is pounding. What the hell is going on? "Um... Where are we going?" He looked at me confused, yeah, no. I'm the one who should looked at him confused.
"You should know where we heading agent 5." I was stunned and lost for words. Am I getting kidnapped? Where the fuck am I? This is a huge fucking red flag and I need to get out of here.
Then the car slowly starting to drive faster inside the thick forest. How the hell is he driving inside this fucking dense forest? "Please put on your seat belt." I was panicking, pulling the damn seat belt. Yet always at the most nervous part, the seat belt would get stuck.
"Hey..." He drive faster ignoring me, "HEY!!" I held unto anything as the car drive faster straight toward a lake. "HO, FUCK!!" I screamed closing my eyes shut, waiting for the impact toward the car.
"Agent 5?" I was trembling, waiting yet again for the impact. Just... Where is it? "Hahaha. Is this your first time?" He asked me, I open my eyes to see the car or... A submarine perhaps?
Driving at the bottom of the lake. There, a few meters away. I could see a huge glass sillinder? I was terrified and... Fascinated? "Woah." He chuckled, "Yeah it's fun when you saw it. But when you get used to it. It's get boring..."
"Uh..." The cab driver pressed a few button on the radio, "Carlo!? Where the fuck are you!?" He chuckled, as he driver into the tube. I watched everything in fold as the tube drain the water and we were inside a glass palace.
"What? But I'm with Agent 5 right here!" He screamed into the radio as my stomach dropped. "So uh... Where am i?" I asked with an awkward smile plaster on my face. A huge frown grow on his face as he notices it now.
"Your not Agent 5 aren't you?"
"You think?" | 2020-05-14T08:15:36 | 2020-05-14T07:39:56 | 278 | 129 |
[WP] You're not one of those storybook genies that take wishes literally and screw your masters over. You use the context to provide them with as close to what they had in mind as possible, but your latest master is making it difficult. | "Fine! Just a ten percent adjustment to the speed of light!"
I rubbed my head again. The astrophysicist in front of me was demanding some awfully awful fundamental changes to... to the fundamentals. I could enact them, with no real cost to myself, but...
While it is true that there are many possible universes in this multiverse, described and ensorcelled by a scant few laws and constants, to change one universe to another is something that cannot be taken lightly.
Especially that speed of light. Raising that one ruins everything chemical and if there is any decent number of black holes about.... I've seen gamma ray bursts ignite the skies of so many worlds... "Listen to me, please. The things you are asking are probable going to kill everyone, everywhere, forever. You aren't even a type two civilization, and even type fours screw this one up. Just... ask for a simple edit. You find happiness, you find the love of your life, you publish the most important paper in history, world commerce suddenly results in a cheaper strawberry... Even the blanket "world peace" option is safer."
The arrogant bastard shook his head. "The experiment is ready *now*. I want to run the test *now*. You will change the constant *now*. That is my wish."
***That is my wish.***
The entire universe changed itself to reflect this desire made manifest. Beings in some far part of a distant galaxy, made of heavier materials like iron and platinum and adrift in space found their bodies and minds suddenly irradiated to the point of boiling. Every less hardy species was immediately killed as every one of their own atoms blasted them apart. The planet's were consumed with the fires of a single instantaneous pulse of radiated light. All of the stars blew out, but for their size it might take a few years to realize it.
I rubbed my head again. This universe couldn't sustain life for at least a million years, probable a few trillion with my luck. It'd have to settle down and start all over with the fresh constants. And here I was, the Great Editor NIE, stuck here to wait till the next iteration, with only a few years of light shows to keep me company.
Next time, I'm going to lie to whatever folk come up, try to limit what they think they can do... This is the billionth time... I swear.... | The idea of granting wishes as close to the spirit of the wish is one few genies perform. Human masters are often fickle and incapable of making decisions when this much power is in their hands.
Two wishes had already been used on this one. He wished to have the exact amount of money in his pocket needed to buy anything, and he wished that his wife and himself would have their adoption paperwork streamlined so they could bring a child into their home. Those were fairly easy and rather well thought out.
However, Master Kevin was fast approaching what the mortals call a "Mid-life Crisis" When they feel they haven't accomplished much, and desire to reclaim some glory they never possessed.
When the time came for his third wish, he asked me for a Porsche 911. After a brief examination of the internet, I realized what it was that he wanted and cast a spell, bringing the framework of the vehicle into the middle of his driveway.
I expected him to hem and haw about the color and the size of the wheels. Because he had been so good with his previous wishes, I expected this wouldn't take too long. Four hours later, there was still only the ghostly image of a car in his driveway, waiting to be fully realized.
"No no, you don't understand, Shalamaran. It needs to be about twenty percent cooler!" | 2015-05-27T07:47:00 | 2015-05-27T05:54:32 | 49 | 12 |
[WP][TT] You wake up, make yourself a nice cup of coffee and enjoy the view of the morning sun rising from the sea. Then you remember that your house isn't supposed to be anywhere near a sea...
Edit: Thank you all for your amazing stories! | I sat down, sliding my hands up and down my mug of coffee, warming them up from the cold of last night. I looked at my living room window, or rather the blinds that blocked the incoming sunlight. "Gosh, why do the kids always close the blinds at night? They know I want to see the sunrise" I thought. I stood up and re-angled the blinds, letting the glorious sunlight in. I turned around and walked back to my mug and chair and sat down, scooping up my mug and taking a few sips.
Ow! OK, the coffee was not cool enough to sip that fast. After sticking my tongue out to try and salvage any surviving taste buds at the tip, I noticed an odd change in my surroundings. The kitchen and living room were completely clean. I looked carefully, distinctly remembering that toys were scattered everywhere last night and that Roger, Sarah, and Lucy had all gone to bed without cleaning up. It had been a long enough day at work yesterday that I followed them to bed right after I was done tucking little Roger in to bed. Then, I noticed it. How could I be so blind? I walked over to the couch right below the blinds and stared at disbelief.
A little handmade card was there, complete with three distinct illegible scrawls. They had taken two pieces of construction paper, folded both, and then stapled the folded edges together to create a four-page booklet,filled with love from my children. The last page was actually readable, and my oldest, Lucy, filled my heart with that painful, chest-filling emotion of pride and love that just burns, but you never want it to stop burning like it does.
*Dear Dad, we wanted to surprise you today, so we snook up early to clean all of our toys. We know Father's Day is tomorrow, but we love you so much you should get two Father's Days! You know, for being a daddy and a mommy all the time! We love you! Lucy, Sarwahh, Rjshgh*
Ok, so Roger still needed handwriting lessons, but still. As far as I was concerned, this was perfection. I sat on the couch, definitely not crying, ok, I was crying a little but in the happy way, when I reflected on my children and the blessing they were to me as I looked over our beautiful ocean view. I have to admit, it took me longer than it should have to realize that we didn't have an ocean view.
"Utah lake is NOT that big, and it definitely does not have waves like that. And it is not twenty feet from my house. And Mr. Jones will not like that his house has been relocated, and I know I won't like it if my house was the one relocated. But these ocean waves are pretty, and sorting this out seems like a big problem. And Fathers aren't allowed to have big problems on Father's day."
I stood up, stretched, downed my coffee, and set it on the kitchen table.
"I should go get the kids into their swimsuits, there's never gonna be another day as magical as this." | George woke up with a pounding headache. His memory of the previous night was fuzzy, but the bodies in various stages of sleep, strewn about around him confirmed his suspicions: last night was quite the party.
Ever so slowly, George dragged himself up from his bed (the floor) and over to the kitchen. His hands excitedly searched for a mug, and placed it under the coffee maker. The machine obnoxiously buzzed while it poured him a much needed refreshment.
Trying to think back, George pushed his resisting brain to remember, but he was met only with pain. He took a sip, then another. Maybe he would rid himself of this hangover after all.
Only, George couldn't remember drinking anything, or, and it was a strange thought, even having intentions of going out the previous night. He shook his head, and finally gazed out the adjacent floor-to-ceiling window. What would normally be a comforting sight to George, worried him deeply. George was gazing out onto a warm, Pacific (or Atlantic) sunrise, which was particularly strange, as George lived in Dallas, Texas.
Now with a sense of urgency, George instinctively dug into his left pocket for his phone, but his search returned with nothing. George began to panic, and only with deep breaths was George able to calm himself. He checked his other pocket, which did indeed contain what he sought.
A question appropriately lit up his screen: "Dude, where are you?" George swiped, and opened google maps with haste. At the top of the screen, George read: Hong Kong, China. George realized that his previous thought was incorrect: the headache was back.
He didn't know how he had gotten here, or why, or even how he was going to get back. At that point, a thought struck George: he would have to party his way home. | 2015-05-28T09:18:44 | 2015-05-28T08:47:22 | 204 | 26 |
[WP] Your quirk is the ability to understand all languages, extending to fictional ones not meant to be understood such as simlish. This leads to some... interesting results. | 18 years old. That's how old I was when it happened. I sat down at my computer and I started reading. I read everything, ANYTHING I could get my hands on. I clicked on one of those weird ".de" website links and my blood ran cold when I realized that I understood every word on the page. I had only ever heard German once or twice on an old TV show I used to watch after school. Google offered to translate the page and I hit yes. The translation in my head had been better.
I was transfixed, delving into every website in every language I could think of. I found sites in Korean, Afrikaans, pictures of tablets in obscure dialects of Urdu, ancient hieroglyphs, anything you could imagine. Most were what you'd expect: blogs, fairy tales about monsters and floods, government statistics. I must have been staring at the screen for hours.
"John!" Mom called from downstairs, breaking me out of my trance. "It's time for dinner! Get down here!"
I stood up, suddenly realizing how hungry I was. No. NO. I was busy. This was important. I sat back down and kept searching. Kept reading. Studying. Learning. Mom called me a few more times but she eventually gave up. I heard her put everything away and go to bed.
Bed. Sleep. Rest... God that sounded like a great idea. I had been up here all day and all night staring at this screen. I stood up again and stretched. No. NO. NO! This was insane, I had to keep reading. Keep learning!
I woke up with my face on the keyboard. It was morning. Crap! I was going to be late for school! "John, the school bus is here!" Mom yelled. I could tell she was upset with me for missing dinner last night. She always-
It hit me like a freight train: Last night, I had understood her perfectly when she called me to dinner.
Now she was calling me to school, and I could understand every word of her angry-sounding gibberish. Gibberish! Everyone I know; my family, friends, teachers, neighbors... they all talk in a language that I now realize is gibberish. My mind clicked on again and I felt a new word form: Simlish. | You discovered you had the ability to understand every language at a young age. You kept this secret for a while, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention from friends, family, or anyone. You felt proud knowing that you could understand any language on the planet. After graduating high school, you decide to make a living translating texts. It then dawns upon you that you have the ability to decipher ancient languages that no one else can even begin to decipher. You decide to attempt to decipher the never-before translated Indus Valley script, and you stare in horror as you read what the stone tablet says. The tablet reads: "To whomever reads this, the world will end on May 5th, 2018. You cannot tell anyone about this, if you decide to do so then things will only get worse. There is a deity that wishes to destroy the planet and you will suffer immeasurably if you reveal his plan to the rest of society."
You then break the tablet and tell your higher-ups that you couldn't decipher it. | 2018-05-03T18:13:20 | 2018-05-03T16:57:32 | 137 | 69 |
[WP] As a Grim Reaper, you have the ability to see numbers floating above every individual's head, counting down the days they have left to live. However, you one day come across a young girl whose number is actually in the negative. | The Reaper lurked in the shadows, waiting. He could see his target coming down the street. Well dressed, wall street guy, talking loudly on his cell phone, the number over his head counting down as he walked. 50, 49, 48. As he passed the alley a big burly arm reached out, grabbing him and dragging him back into the shadows, covering his mouth.
“Ok guy, give me your wallet and we won’t have any trouble.” The mugger whispered.
The broker reached up and pulled the muggers hand from his mouth. “Fuck you asshole!”, he said as he started squirming and pulling away. The Reaper glided closer to the pair and reached out, lightly touching the broker on the forehead as the clock hit zero.
“Have it your way” the mugger said as his blade slid across the Broker’s throat. The Broker collapsed to the floor, gagging on his blood. The Reaper propped himself against the wall, waiting for the spirit to release. The body stopped convulsing. A light airy fog lifted from the mouth of the Broker and hovered for a moment, before shooting up into the air, then plunging into the ground.
The Reaper smirked as the Mugger collected his prizes and ran out of the alley. The reaper left the alley and began to stroll down the street, watching the timers over everyone's heads. 20 years here, 54 years there. One lady had 17 hours, her significant other had 17.5. Then something caught his eye. A young girl, no more than 10 years old, Standing across the street looking into a toy store window, -12 years hovering above her head.
He stopped in his tracks and stared at the little girl. She wore a frilly pink dress that puffed out at the bottom. Her curly hair pulled up into a neat ponytail. He moved towards her, his body gliding through the vehicles and people in his way. He stopped behind her, watching and observing. ‘Who is she?’ he thought, ‘and….how?’.
Suddenly she spun on her heels and looked him in the eyes. “There you are!” She said. “I’ve been looking for you! You are pretty sneaky, I’ll give you that, but I’d knew I’d find you here.” She smiled at him.
Confusion set in. ‘How...how can she see me?’ the Reaper thought.
“You are probably wondering how I can see you?” She smiled. The reapers face turned to shock. “Well, as you can see, I died some time ago” She continued, pointing at the numbers above her, “And well, you weren’t there!”, her face turned to an exaggerated pout. “But it’s ok” She smiled, “we can fix it now! Before I go though, can you do something for me?” She asked as sweetly as she could. The Reaper nodded slowly, still not sure what was happening or how he could miss a death. The little girl gestured with her finger for the Reaper to come closer. He kneeled down to her level, leaning closer to her. “Leave” she whispered, and touched the Reaper on the forehead.
The reaper shrieked in pain as his body stretched and tore. His cloak billowed and twisted in the wind. The little girl watching, a big toothy grin on her face. The Reaper felt his soul being ripped from his body. He was floating now, looking down at the scene, his body laying on the pavement above it the counter went from -9,999 years to -10,000 and stopped. His spirit flew up into the air then spiraled down into the ground, into darkness.
(sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. I wrote this at work and didn't have time to proof read it)
| It wasn't unusual. It was as artifical yet as normal as seeing humans coat their lives in the death of trees and the ancient remains of life. The Reaper watched the child's chest rise and fall. The beeps and monitors keeping her alive. Her brain was vacant, soul trapped inside. It appeared uncomfortable, if her body was able to interpret discomfort.
The Reaper hovered at the girl's bed. Though it was rare to come face to face with a tormented soul, the little girl's life force gushed out of her chest, her glowing soul form staring at The Reaper with discontent.
"Are you God?" The little girl said, moving beside The Reaper.
"I am Death," The Reaper replied. The girl's eyes watered and pearl-shaped light orbs tumbled down, spilling and rolling onto the floor. The girl's soul was pure and untainted.
Behind the two, the door opened and the girl collapsed onto the ground when her grief-stricken parents came inside followed by a doctor.
The girl was lifted into The Reaper's arms in silence.
"I'm afraid the chance of Irina gaining consciousness has fallen. We were hoping for good news but, at this point, I would advise there isn't much chance for your daughter. I am very, very sorry to have to announce this news to you."
"But she's my baby girl," Irina's mother sobbed, falling into the arms of her husband.
"Are you sure, doctor?" Irina's father said, his expression stoic.
Irina reached out to her mother and whispered for her tears to stop. The Reaper said nothing at the unfolding scene. The loss of life was tragic for all, but as natural as gaining life.
"I'm afraid so," the doctor said.
"So do we... do we turn off her support, is that it now?" Irina's father said, his voice cracking. It was obvious he was struggling to speak.
The Reaper paused twice with the click of his bony fingers. Irina had begun to ascend. Her pain in seeing her parents had become unbearable.
"Shall we step outside?" The Reaper smiled, taking Irina though the walls outside. The two floated until they reached the fountain in front of the hospital. The Reaper sat Irina down onto the fountain edge, her orbs of tears still trickling out.
Time resumed again. The Reaper patted the young soul on her head and watched her form become brighter and brighter, her image a ghost. She looked up at him one final time and disappeared from Earth.
The Reaper went back inside the building, as was his duty. There were many more souls inside that were soon to depart. | 2018-05-23T06:45:29 | 2018-05-23T05:51:54 | 229 | 45 |
[WP] Each child in your village is chosen by a weapon at their coming of age. The deadlier the weapon, the greater the prestige for the family. You've been chosen by the pen. | The red stain spread across the yellow uniform that covered Defur’s chest. I knelt over him, paying no heed to the drops of blood getting on my own uniform. But there was nothing to be done; with one final shudder, Defur died on the street right there in my arms.
The three members of the Order of the Sword stood over him and watched him die without so much as a glimmer of remorse. Their red uniforms were not as visibly stained, which is why they wear red in the first place. But the steel sword in the hand of their leader certainly was; rivulets of Defur’s blood still dripped off the tip and into the gutter. “Keep to your own places, book rats,” he spat at me before turning back toward the tavern entrance.
“I will demand satisfaction!” I shouted after them. “What is your name?”
My threat just provoked a laugh. How could one from the Order of the *Pen* force a member of the *Swords* to apologize? None of my brothers would back me up; scribes were no fighters. So if I actually went through with the threat and showed up at their doorway with a challenge, it would be me versus their entire Order. No one could even remember that last time that someone from the Pens had even mounted a challenge. "Good luck with that,” the Sword leader said over his shoulder. “I’m Lefra. I look forward to the chance to kill you too.” Then he disappeared through the tavern doorway with his brothers. I was left alone in the street with Defur’s body.
------
One week from Defur’s death, I arrived at the Swords guild hall with my demand and nailed it to their front door, as is tradition. As a member of the Order of the Pen, I’d drafted such a demand many times for the other Orders. The Bows, the Spears, the Slings, the Axes… they all had the strength necessary to put forth such a challenge. Generally the Pens were just the ones putting ink to paper to formalize it.
Lefra emerged from the guild hall and tore my note off of the front door. He only glanced at it, not really knowing how to read anyway. But the Swords received more challenges than anyone else, so he knew exactly what it was. Then he looked out over the crowd that had gathered in the plaza. A demand for satisfaction usually draws a good amount of spectators from the other guilds, but this was an unusually large group. “Who issues this challenge?” he asked.
“The Order of the Pen!” I shouted back.
“No, the Order of the Spear!” shouted a man to my right. “You killed Defur, one of our brothers!”
“The Order of the *Bow* issues the challenge!” said another voice from the crowd. “Defur was one of *ours!*”
Voices from a dozen different guilds joined in on the challenge, each demanding satisfaction for the death of Defur. The only thing that they couldn’t quite agree on was which guild the victim had come from.
“He was from the Pens!” Lefra protested.
“That’s not what the letter says,” the leader of the Spears shouted back. He held up a piece of parchment that fluttered in the breeze. Other guilds joined in, each holding up their onw letter with pretty much identical wording. Apparently *someone* had sent letters to all of the other guilds in neighboring towns, informing them that one of their members had been brutally murdered and their support was needed for a demand for satisfaction from the Swords.
“He lied!” Lefra shouted back to them, thrusting an accusing finger directly at me. “He wasn’t from your Orders, he was a *Pen*, I tell you! Just a *reader!* This other one is making up lies!”
“Why don’t I go check the official records?” I suggested. “We Pens record which guild every child is sorted into…” And I’d carefully prepared a number of different logbooks that I could show, each one indicating that Defur had been chosen by the Bows, Spears, etc. Not that any of them could actually *read*, but a few would probably know enough to identify the symbols of their Order.
“You *lying* little *worm*!” Lefra shouted. Without even formally accepting my demand for satisfaction, he whipped the sword out of his scabbard and charged down the steps at me. And before he even made it into the plaza, he was pierced by a dozen arrows, axes, knives, and spears that came flying out of the other Order groups. His charge became a stumbling topple, and he landed in front of me barely clinging to life.
“Told you I’d demand satisfaction,” I whispered as he died.
| I stared at the "weapon" in my hand, feeling all the despair in the world. My cousin and brother got amazing weapons, a sword and spear respectively. I glanced up at them, waving around their weapons joyously, oblivious to my pains. I could feel the tears running down my cheeks at the shame I now carried. My eyes dragged themselves away from my rejoicing kin to the rest of the village, who all stared at me in awe, or was that fear?
"He needs to go to Mount Daemon." The village elder said, looking very shaken. The rest of the village agreed, nodding their heads quickly.
I sniffled, of course they would want to be rid of me. I am worthless, a piece of garbage. My weapon the most useless of all the things on the planet. I was guided away by my parents, whom seemed almost loath to touch me. It was not too long after that I was sent off with the passing caravan to the place that would be my grave. A fitting end to my shameful beginning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fifteen years later.
The world trembled in fear before the Great Lord. Most powerful to come from the sacred temple of Mount Daemon. Nothing was powerful enough to stand against him.
A servant walked into the massive great hall Great Lord had built for himself. A small dagger hung at her side, looking weathered and not taken care of. She bowed before the Great Lord, offering up a platter of mixed fruits and slices of cured meats and aged cheeses. Her arms trembled of the thoughts flying through her head of her master's greatness.
"You do not care for your weapon?" Great Lord asked the girl as he picked a piece of salami.
"It is a useless weapon, my lord." She mumbled. "I was banished from my village out of shame and came to work for you as no one else would have me."
"I see." He said, leaning back on his throne but still watching her carefully.
"My lord? May I ask a question?" She slowly lowered the platter and looked up into the gleaming green eyes of her master. He looked so young for someone who wields so much power.
"Ask away." He said with a small smirk.
"Why is it you only have people who have useless weapons at your castle? Where is your weapon?" Her curiosity got the better of her as her mouth ran on. She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, mumbling apologies as she spilled the platter onto the floor.
"I will tell you why." Great Lord laughed. "History is only written by the victor, so i wrote what I dreamed of. Nothing is useless you know how to wield it properly."
The girl stared at him, not sure of what he was meaning. Her eyes widened when he pulled out of a small pocket, a gleaming pen. Its case was made of the greenest malachite and sported a golden clip and nib. Great Lord flicked his thumb and it spun expertly on his hand before coming to rest into a very comfortable writing position. He smiled more when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.
"You can be anything you want." He said standing and holding out a hand to her. "The pen is always mightier than the sword." | 2017-04-10T09:44:43 | 2017-04-10T08:43:31 | 711 | 238 |
[WP] The Genie looks at you puzzled 'So... you wish for everyone to have 4 arms?', and you say 'yes, I wish that tomorrow everyone wakes up having 4 arms, no explanation, just 4 arms, and if they only had 1 arm or none now they have 4' | I wake up to the buzzing of my phone. Without opening my eyes, I reach over to silence it. *Just five more minutes*.
As I lay in bed, my mind starts putting together the pieces of last night’s events. I had been polishing an antique vase I had inherited from my great aunt Evelyn when all the air in my living room suddenly whirled around me and the genie appeared before me.
“Finally!” he cried. “You have no idea how long I’ve been stuck in that dingy vase…”
I stood in shock, mouth gaping, as the genie rambled on about the inhumane living conditions he’d been subjected to four thousands of years in that piece of pottery. At last, he addressed me directly.
“Well, now that you’ve freed me, you’re entitled to one free wish.”
“One wish?” I blurted out. “Isn’t it supposed to be three?”
The genie burst out laughing. “Is that what they’re telling kids these days?! You humans get greedier every millennium. No, you only get one wish. One wish should be all you need, if you choose the wish wisely. My advice: don’t waste it. You have a real chance to do some good here.”
*A real chance to do some good.* For as long as I could remember, my sister had had a tougher life than me. When she was eleven, she fell on the playground and scraped her arm. The arm got infected, and ultimately had to be amputated just below the shoulder. A freak incident that changed her life. Since then, she had always been a trooper and approached life with never-ending optimism, but prosthetic arms that attach above the elbow just aren’t as effective as prosthetics attached below the elbow.
So when the genie showed up, I knew exactly what to wish for.
\----------
My phone still hasn’t stopped buzzing. Strange. Groggily, I pick up the phone and pry one eye open to see a barrage of notifications on my screen.
The top headline from the New York Times: “BREAKING NEWS: PEOPLE AROUND THE WORLD WAKE UP WITH TWO EXTRA LIMBS”.
From the Wall Street Journal: “BIOLOGICAL WARFARE? RADIATION POISONING? SCIENTISTS TRY TO DECODE THE MYSTERY OF TWO NEW LIMBS”
In disbelief, I throw off my covers. Sure enough, there are two dangly new arms sticking out from each of my hips like spider legs.
*How on Earth…?* Then suddenly, it hits me.
I race to the old vase and rub it vigorously until the genie materializes again.
“You again?” he asks. “I already granted you your wish.”
“*FOREARMS*!” I cry. “I WANTED EVERYONE TO HAVE *FOREARMS*! NOT *FOUR ARMS*!”
Slowly, the genie’s face contorts from confusion, to understanding, to horror, as he realizes the irreversible mistake we’ve made. | I pulled myself into the Genie's cave, cursing every inch of rocky ground. "Genie!"
The only answer was the drip-dripping of water into a distant pool of water.
"Genie," I growled. "I know you can hear me."
She popped out of the air with a laugh. "You knew the rules. One wish. No take-backs. Be sure about your wish, for you will never see me again."
I grasped onto her last point. "Ha! I'm seeing you now, right? So clearly there's some wiggle room."
"That last one is more of a personal policy than an actual rule. Cuts down on the whining. But for the most interesting wish I've heard in an eon, I can make an exception for one extra conversation with you. Now, is there a problem?"
"Is there... Oh come on! You know this isn't what I meant!"
I waved my second set of arms for emphasis, which had replaced my legs. I'd finally gotten the hang of walking on my second set of hands, but my new arms still got tired quickly, and I'd been reduced to crawling into the cave.
"That's your fault. Four arms for every person in the world? In a single night? Do you have any idea how complicated the musculature is? I had to use some existing infrastructure. And you still have four limbs, right? I even gave myself the same upgrade to be fair!"
"Fair? You can FLY. We have to walk on our hands. I never fully understood how gross shoes are until now."
"What has four thumbs and doesn't care?" She gave me a cheeky four-thumbs-up. "This genie!" | 2022-07-11T09:41:02 | 2022-07-11T09:12:18 | 425 | 210 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | Finally after years of waiting I no longer was just my father and mother’s son. It was time for me to take my profession, as decided by my genetic traits. There were several of us in line, I was next. Sweat dripped from my face as I waited praying I wasn’t given the last name of fisher, or even worse a Kellog. Fishing and butchery paid the least out of all the professions, and besides that wasn’t my dream anyway. I wanted to be a spaceman, that is, travel the stars, but anything would be better than butchering animals, or plucking them from the sea. But most of all I wanted to travel, I wanted to leave my home, and space was the furthest I could get.
My parents had dreams for me as well. They both wanted me to be assigned a more profitable last name, such as goldsmith or a mender. I had neither the urge nor the skill to be either of these, I didn’t especially like fine handicrafts nor was I good around blood. My father and mother just wanted me to have a better life than the one they had. While we aren’t poor we weren’t wealthy either, my father being a brewer, and my mother being a spicer. It was a hard life for them but we never went hungry.
Finally, at last it was my turn. I stepped up to the machine and it latched a thick metal ring around my neck. I felt as though I was suffocating, but I wasn't. It was just tight. The machine started to whirl as it processed me. A million thoughts ran through my head as the machine grabbed my arms. “Please, please no fisher” I said to myself as the machine tightened it’s grasp on my arms. I then felt a slight burn on my arm as my last name finally appeared… “World-Ender”...
Thoughts race through my head, World-Ender? What kind of last name is that! That can’t be a profession! World-Enders, don’t make anything. As these thoughts quickly race through my head and a guard notices the machine has not yet let me go. She sees the last name assigned and gasps, quickly she places a black bag over my head and orders everyone else in line to leave the room and to go back to the waiting area. I had no idea what was waiting for me next. | It seemed quite innocent at first, and despite the name given to their son, the burdenbearers were always a, optimistic but harrowed couple.
Yet, despite their pedigree, they remained positive about how this would turn out. Their son would turn out.
“Shame is truly, your only companion”, the tyke said to his mother’s enthusiastic but unpalatable sister.
That was the weight of his name. It wasn’t apocalyptic, but he ended worlds with innocent words.
At a very young age he learned to form sentences together. For the most of it he was a normal kid. The first incident though, would always terrify them.
A friend who was a pilot, Icarus Airfarer, was visiting the Burdenbearers. It was a simple goodbye over breakfast. On learning what Icarus does for a living, in an almost sing-song voice the little boy said, “that seems worthless, do the people even care about you”.
These words fell sharp. The cacophony of thought they produced in Icarus - you would’ve thought the boy had powers.
“They will care now!”
He took the entire plane along with him. Right in to a cliff face. | 2021-06-19T23:37:11 | 2021-06-19T22:00:06 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | "Sit up straight at the table." Jake's mother would always tell him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You could probably play basketball if you looked a little taller" Jake's dad would try to encourage him.
But Jake would not listen.
"You'll develop a hump in your back if you slouch like that" Jake's grandma would scold him.
But Jake would not listen, because he knew that he was not just slouching, but *crouching*, deliberately, everywhere he went and at every possible situation of the day. Jake was never much of a talker. In fact people would have called him a wall flower. He was always crouching, at school, at home, at the park, on awkward dates, at his high school graduation. He had even trained himself to sleep while crouching.
25 long years Jake crouched, in an odd, alert stance. Like a thief who had just got caught in the act. He attracted strange glances and social commentary that would make most flushed with embarrassment, but Jake didn't care. He knew what he was doing.
One fateful day, it all finally clicked. Jake got up from the john, stretched his legs, and got back into his regular crouch. But as he shuffled back into the office, something was different. He felt it. He was no longer shuffling, but sneaking, level 100.
"Anyone seen Jake?" His boss called out, walking right past him with a fat stack of paperwork.
"Jake was here just a moment ago" Katrina looked around, confused.
Jake's eyes grew wide with wonder. He snuck over to Katrina and waved his hands in front of her face. She kept staring at her computer screen, completely unfazed and oblivious to his presence. He ate some of the donuts at her desk, then stole her favorite stapler as his own.
Jake could go anywhere now. He was a shadow. A blip on life's radar that could not be perceived, remembered, or detected. He was a god.
"Fuck yeah!" Jake jumped for joy, almost straining his legs which were unused to the position.
"Whoa, Jake?" Katrina looked up from her work, "What are you doing at my desk?"
Startled, Jake immediately crouched back down and froze.
"Huh, that was weird." Katrina's eyes glazed over, immediately unaware of the events that just transpired.
Jake sighed, and smiled, his power was intact. There was only one thing left to do now, find the place they called Riften. | It started with something everyone did. It started while he stumbled against a table corner in the living room at age 3. He honed this skill without realizing. In kindergarden he used it on the carers. At home he used it on his parents and siblings. Hours and hours he used it, while he was around people at a concert, while swimming in the sea, while driving his car, while bleeding from his arm after a minor accident or just while standing outside in the warmth or cold. He knew he got better over time, kidding around with it, but also be thankful for this skill. Thankful while his cousin or grandfather died, while his exgirlfriend broke up with him, while he was learning for an important test. No one else used this skill as much as he did. Not one thought that this skill was usefull, it could be achieved through methods that did not substract from you maximum skill-level, so they used headphones, soundproofing, and even blinkers could be seen.
Then the day came, a day he had longed for since his first level in this skill. He mastered it. At his 100th birthday he gained the 100th level. A smile showed on his face for a short time. Out of curiosity he opened the skill description and read:
“Ignorance (Lvl 100 / Mastered): Ability to ignore outside and inside influences. Mastery Bonus: A Master of this skill can ignore everything, all matter, energy, time and even death.”
| 2015-10-06T00:04:12 | 2015-10-05T23:42:20 | 427 | 85 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | Humans are a galactic anomaly.
In the typical course of evolution, there are two possibilities; either carnivores become dominant, and are forced to evolve intelligence as they fight with one another over dwindling resources, or Herbivores manage to evolve rapidly enough to defend themselves from those carnivores. In all 9824 races of the Known Galaxy, this pattern has held true.
It was a monumental shock, then, when species 9825 was discovered, colloquially called 'humans'. Their species was incredibly unlucky; they had evolved in a system where significant numbers of eccentric orbitals intersected their planet's course, resulting in not just one, but multiple large-scale impacts. It is believed that there were several nascent species on the cusp of intelligence, both herbivore and carnivore, only to be promptly wiped out by impact-induced global firestorms. The last of these was the worst; all larger life-forms were killed, leaving only the most tenacious of creatures behind, and allowing, for the first time in history, an evolutionary oddity.
An intelligent Omnivore.
Of course, most species will occasionally consume - on accident, usually - certain plant or meat based foods. The Verron-Tigers of Species 2368 will occasionally eat handfuls of grass to aid their digestive tract, for example, but never before had we encountered an intelligent species that would willingly consume both.
The scientific curiosity, however, is more than overwhelmed by the social one. Predators cannot - physically cannot - reside in close company to more than a few dozen of their kin, at most. Their instinct prevents it, competition driven by millenia of ingrained social cues. Herbivores rarely fight back; far easier to stand as a group, and let the weak be winnowed away.
When the first Predators, Skell-Walkers of species 8473, arrived at Earth, they saw the billions of humans and expected another Prey species. As was the custom, they isolated a small, isolated group of young, and began their hunt.
The entire human species nearly exploded with rage. The Skell were not prepared - Prey never fought back! When the first nuclear-tipped missiles reached their ship, in orbit around their moon, their shields weren't even up. Only a brief message made it to the other Skell, a warning of the insane prey of 9825. Still, they were prey; they assumed that as long as they avoided the planet, all would be well.
They assumed wrong. Very, very wrong. Apparently, Omnivores are fans of vengeance, and there are billions of them, compared to scarce thousands of Skell. Within 20 celestial cycles, there were no more Skell.
And then, to everyone's surprise, they stopped. They colonized the formerly Skell worlds, and were mostly quiet. Over time, the Herbivore Alliance came to the conclusion that their war with the Skell must have been a fluke; after all, even the most pacifistic of Herbivores will fight back in the right circumstances. Perhaps the Skell had just done something very, very wrong. Gently, delicately, we made contact...
...and found Humans to be one of the most delightful species we had ever known! They did not usually kill for sport, the way the Carnivores did; no, they were nearly as pacifistic as we were! We were welcomed with open arms, and within only a few dozen more solar cycles, we had a thriving alliance. It was only after another thirty cycles that our ambassadors felt our relationship was close enough to inquire as to what, exactly, had led to their genocide of the Skell. Our Chief Ambassador was understandably surprised when they told him how a small group of their young had been killed and eaten by the invaders; after all, such cullings happened regularly within our people!
The Human Ambassador politely inquired as to which species had eaten several of our Ambassador's children. We saw no harm in telling them.
That species no longer exists.
It is too late for us; the humans already know of our existence. Maybe, in time, we can even grow to live with them. But to any uncontacted Herbivores and Carnivores in the galaxy; run. Run, and never turn back. There are nearly a trillion of them now. A trillion creatures of genocide and murder in the name of peace.
Run, before it's too late.
Just run. | 99.999% of all intelligent species in the galaxy are descended from their home planet's equivalent of ants or cows. It's a fact that's hard to believe, given the diverse range of body types and social structures built by said species, but it's an answer every human xeno-researcher came across after First Contact.
The "Ant" species, as a general rule of thumb, resemble human ants in behavior, if not appearance. Most have caste systems with the breeders at top with the most intelligence and authority, and the workers at the bottom. As such, their problems are mainly solved by throwing enough bodies at the issue until it works. Sheer trial and error over millions of years eventually led to their ascension to the stars.
The "Cow" species individually are of relatively high intelligence compared to the mindless workers of the Ants, and live within relative harmony to one another. Highly cooperative, they've developed elaborate herd structures and decision making methods. Only when a decision is unanimous do Cows move. In contrast to the Ants, which are divided into numerous factions even in a single species due to the disposable nature of soldiers and workers for a politically aspirant queen, Cows generally are unified among species lines. This pacifism does not extend to others. Cows are naturally paranoid, and ruthlessly seek to stamp out any potential threat. As they've reached the galactic stage, the Cows have joined together as the single largest faction, overcoming mutual distrust with a greater distaste against Ants.
When humans first hit the galactic stage, it was the Cows who gave us guidance, thinking us to be merely another Cowlike species to join their herds. They did not anticipate that we were descended from persistence predators. Ants and Cows have terrible depth perception, regardless of origin. It was skipped over sometime during evolution, with social structures in place to overcome any individuals inability to see farther than a few meters.
Humans often take ranged weaponry for granted. What we don't often realize is that we had to be selected for the ability to throw, and we built upon our own ability to throw with the development of technologies specifically related to throwing things faster and harder. Cows and Ants built upon their own natural strengths, focusing on better melee weapons, speed, and armor, never even considering attacking from beyond sight.
What's more, Ants and Cows do not pursue. They chase off threats until the threat is perceived to be out of range. Then they stop and return home. Our first war with the Carabons ended with their total surrender after they failed to realize we could and would track down their attacking vessels back to their homeworld and continue the fight months after we were believed to be "neutralized". They did not anticipate each one of our fighters being able to fight for days on end without rest, when they tired out after minutes. They did not anticipate fire raining from the sky despite theoretical knowledge of ballistics for their starships. They did not realize that even the fastest and most evasive of their speeder chariots couldn't hope to outrun laser rifles.
| 2016-03-13T21:24:24 | 2016-03-13T18:44:24 | 71 | 34 |
[WP] To increase efficiency, God has uploaded the source code for Life, the universe and everything to GitHub. However, he forgot to set it as a private project and now people are auditing his code, filing bug reports and submitting patches. The kicker? Someone has been making mods. | "Where was I?" Theo thought to himself, " ah yes, finally some time for myself." it's friday night. And hesus and Mehmed where over at his exs place this weekend, finally some time to mess with universe simulator. "Funny how they created this Github site." Theo Thought chuckling to himself. he messed around with it a little, then shut it down to go to sleep.
&#x200B;
The next morning Theo woke up to the sunlight coming in from his window. He got out of bed and went downstairs for breakfast. Theo noticed his computer was still on. And Universe Simulator still open. he looked at the time, "phew, real life speed, only a day had past. then he saw something weird, Deathcount had dropped overnight significantly. usually it was around 5k an hour, and it had reduced to 1k. furthermore the media was going beserk. Worldleaders resigning in favor of reworked election systems. Something went wrong, not even his Firstperson mode interactions had pushed humanity, as he called them, this far forward.
Panicking, Theo checked the datalogs for what must've changed it.
\>> James42 has modified Apoptosis program,
\>> Anon20012 updated Morality spectrum.
\>> Richard79 edited IQ database,
\>> BruceB edited Muscle.tissue in unit 78498327548476,
\>> ProfX edited file 768435762168's IQ database value,
\>> ProfX edited....Theo scrolled along,
\>> TonyStork created new structureblock "Palladium",
\>> JFost enabled the Norse Mythology plugin,
\>> StarvinginAfrica created new structureblock "Vibranium",
The list continued... | After a thorough investigation into the person responsible for making the mods, they found out that it was non other than Friedrich Nietzsche. When asked about why he was making mods, he replied
"I was devastated when I found out that there was a meaning to life, and that God was very well alive, and we didn't kill him. I tried to modify the code so that all the explanations for the meaning of life would disappear. I have found out that life is meaningful, but I now feel meaningless. I am the Untermensch.....
No I'm just kidding, my sister did it" | 2019-02-13T04:05:10 | 2019-02-12T23:21:27 | 330 | 93 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer. | Everyone came out of the jury's chamber for the sentencing. Guilty, of course. We didn't have much of a choice. The evidence mounting against him was overwhelming. I was actually annoyed I had had to take off time today to be jury for such a simple case.
Jay Kleiner was a murderer of the lowest order. A murderer of children. And of policemen. And of doctors. The golden trifecta. I was disgusted just watching him, seeming so smug and cheerful. So why was my compass saying that he was the the most decent human being in the room?
The compass had been a gift from my grandmother. She had given it to me just before she was executed. She had said, "Isaac, this compass shows who the best person around you. Always make sure to only associate with those people."
That hadn't been hard, since it almost always pointed at me. Occasionally it moved, and I would try to find out who it was. But in recent years, it had only pointed at me. I don't know if that made me feel good or nervous. And now it was pointing at a murderer. Why? Was it broken?
The judge passed down the verdict. "For these crimes, you are sentenced to death by lethal injection. The sentence is to be carried out immediately. May God have mercy on your soul."
Kleiner didn't flinch. He had to have known this was coming. He was guilty. They were all guilty. He just smirked and said, "My soul doesn't need any mercy."
A hooded man entered with the needle. But first, a Forgiver came forward, as per Protocol VI. He placed the camera in front of Kleiner and said loudly, "Do you, Jay Kleiner, regret your crime?"
"No."
"Then you are forgive-What?"
Someone behind me gasped. If you didn't play this part right then they would take it out on your family. But he just kept right on talking to the crowd. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. He didn't bother talking to the camera. Everyone knew the footage would later be edited for the good of the people. He spoke to us. My compass went wild.
"I have not committed a crime. I have nothing to apologise for. Those people had it coming. Would have been nice if you allowed me to defend myself **before** I was pronounced guilty, though."
A hushed whisper started spreading through the courtroom. The judge shouted, "Silence, Mr. Kleiner!"
His grin wouldn't let up. "Or what, you'll hold me in contempt? I'm not going to apologise for destroying your sick euthanization den, and slaughtering your mad scientists. How long did you think people would stand idly by? Forever? Not gonna happen."
Pandemonium erupted. The judge pounded his gavel to no avail, then shouted, "Carry out the execution! Now!" He seemed panicked. He probably was. Even a judge could wake up one night with a knock on the door, and never be seen again.
Kleiner was grabbed by two burly soldiers. He didn't resist. He just kept talking, raising his voice to a shout, to be heard above the hubbub. "I did not kill those children! I weep for the ones I wasn't able to save! I weep because you killed them! But most of them got away. They're with my people right now! And you'll never find them. Not until the fall of this tyrannical empire! Down with the Gravian Empire! Up with the revolutionnnnnn........"
The cry died on his lips. The executioner had just injected him. 500 milligrams of Hydrogen Cyanide was already coursing through his body. But somehow he found the strength to utter one last sentence. "Someone will always ^do ^the ^right ^thiiing."
No more. He was silent. The compass slowly turned back around to point at me. And I finally knew what that meant.
I joined the revolution the very next day. | I can’t disclose where and how I found it for reasons I also can’t reveal. All I could reveal is how it works. I pull it out and I watch it point to the person who it deems the most morally good. By what standards, I don’t know. All I know is that it works. I’ve met my lovely husband, whom I am eternally grateful for. I have the best set of friends anyone could ever wish for. That and many more wonderful things I found by following where my compass leads me. Overtime, it became a part of me. It became my judgement, my ideal. And so, I was happy to have learned that I was being summoned for jury duty. For so long, I’ve only used my compass for myself, I was elated to finally use it for the greater good.
&nbsp;
The day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and pulled out my compass. It pointed to the accused. I was determined to defend her at any cost. I listened carefully, committing to memory whatever I could use to clean her name. Evidences were presented, and a strong case was built against the accused. I gave the jurors my piece, deftly conveyed my arguments to defend the accused but to no avail. I came home defeated. I pulled out my compass before I went to sleep and was relieved to see it pointing to me. I kissed my husband good night. I went to bed hopeful for the next morning. I knew I was doing something right.
&nbsp;
Second day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and pulled out my compass. It pointed to the accused. Everything seemed like a replay of the prior day. The day ended with a stronger case against the accused. I knew I had to do something. One of the jurors was someone I knew from the church, an influential figure. I invited her for coffee and presented her with my case. I felt good about myself, I was doing something right, I thought. I went home feeling slightly victorious. I pulled out my compass before I went to sleep, and it pointed to my husband.
&nbsp;
Third day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and attempted to pull out my compass when someone called out my name. I was asked to leave the room. I looked behind and scanned for the church lady as I was being ushered out; our eyes met but she quickly averted her gaze. Outside, I waited for an explanation when suddenly a loud cry erupted from the room:
&nbsp;
“Please have mercy on me! I am pregnant! Please, please don’t do this to me!”.
&nbsp;
I pulled out my compass. It was pointing towards the room. | 2019-09-10T20:18:20 | 2019-09-10T20:06:43 | 3,464 | 132 |
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony... | "You know you will never live up to your peers, don't you?"
The young girl trembled in her too-big robes. Memories of her older siblings taunting her came to her mind. Paralyzing her with magic for hours, spraying spiders over her, having a storm cloud follow only her.
And her parents allowing it. Shrugging it off because she should learn to fight back. If she was worth anything, she would.
*I know,* she thought. *But I can't go back.*
She brought up the things she's learned; everything from basic sleight of hand to ancient rituals that, if she concentrated hard enough, she could swear made her luckier. After all, wasn't the letter proof that it worked?
The hat seemed to soften on her head. "My dear," it muttered, "those are simple parlor tricks. The letter was because of your magical lineage. You've no magic in you."
Tears stung her eyes. *I can learn. Some jobs don't require it. I could train magical creatures. Or run a store. Or keep records.* She nearly sobbed as she pleaded with the hat. *I'll scrub floors if I have to. Please.*
"Hmm," the hat mused. "You really have thought of everything. So willing to think outside the box. But are you willing to put the work in?"
She briefly noticed the other students, whispering in their chairs. She saw the haughty faces of her siblings staring from deep green robes; they knew she wouldn't belong. She began to lift the hat.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat bellowed.
The tears fell as she heard the roar of applause. Headmistress McGonagall gave her a knowing smile as she looked to the blue students in the room. As she lifted the hat, she thought, *thank you.*
She could swear the hat smiled as she walked away. | As the hat was placed upon me, a cold dread overcame my entire body. And this time it wasn't a senior prankster from Slytherin. As the hat wiggled around my head, the halls were dead silent. Something was obviously wrong. The hat had never taken this long to make a decision. Dumbledore sat at his chair, mildly amused. It was almost as if he had known all along. Then I heard Dumbledore mutter a few words under his breath, and then the hat expanded to a massive size. I couldn't breath and the hat had completely swallowed me. I tried screaming, but no one would hear me. The last thing I remembered was everyone laughing in the halls. | 2017-06-25T14:30:03 | 2017-06-25T13:48:53 | 330 | 33 |
[WP] You've always dreamt of being isekai'd into a fantasy world and become a great and beloved hero. Then it really happens! But as you blink away the smoke you find yourself surrounded by monstrous creatures, as well as the Dark Lord himself. He smiles at you. "Welcome, Dark Champion." | "YEEEESSSSS!"
\*\*\* One Year Later
"Dark Lord, I brought in the latest reports, it goes from bad, to really bad, to terrible," stated the imp as he plopped down next to the Dark Lord's throne. The Dark Lord was sitting there, still, his head in his hands.
"I'm not cut out for this," stated the Dark Lord waving at the imp to begin.
"Well, as you know last month your Champion," began the imp.
"The Dark Champion," corrected the Dark Lord, sighing.
"Ah, yes, the Dark Champion, slew the last remaining member of the heroes of light. That means that there is no longer any organized resistance in the east," started the imp. That part was at least hopeful, what followed was not, "And then started his murder orgy. Which has been ongoing for the past 27 days, with the exception of last Tuesday."
"When the goddess of light tried to stop him" asked the Dark Lord.
"Yup, poor thing, she's immortal so it is not going well for her," stated the imp.
"And a murder orgy is," asked the Dark Lord.
"Like a regular orgy, assuming that you used weapons instead of genitals," replied the imp. "Plus consent is not a big part of it."
"I just wanted to overthrow the king," moaned the Dark Lord.
"Yeah, plus shot at the rate he's going its going to only be another week or two before that continent shatters as well," stated the imp.
"So my new kingdom will cover about 50 square miles of land," asked the Dark Lord.
"23, sire," replied the imp. "He learned the Dark Bombard spell and tested it on your old lair."
"Great, I hadn't cleaned that place out yet, anything survive," asked the Dark Lord.
"Not much, your helm of chaos was intact," replied the imp.
"That's something," replied the Dark Lord.
"He's using it for a chamber pot between bouts with the goddess," stated the imp.
"Is he?" asked the Dark Lord.
"No, turns out she's big into dismemberment and he's big into dismembering," stated the imp.
"Any chance of casting the great spell that will turn me into a god," asked the Dark Lord.
"No," chuckled the imp, "I know you always viewed that as a long shot anyway, but when he destroyed the celestial mountain that opportunity went with it."
"I'm surprised the Dark Gods haven't risen up to destroy him," groaned the Dark Lord.
"Sir, they did. Yesterday. All four popped up," stated the imp. "They are all obliterated now."
"How," groaned the Dark Lord.
"Something about infinite one ups, an unlimited power hax and well, he one shotted all four of them," stated the imp. "I'm going to go on record that they really shouldn't have taught him those god slaying techniques against the good gods."
"So what's that leave me," asked the Dark Lord.
"Well, you have this castle, well, hall, well room. You are king of this room," stated the imp. "But he ultramurdered all of your subjects."
"Can't you just say he murdered them," groaned the Dark Lord.
"Just using murdered seems so plain considering what he did to them, I mean there is murder and there is ultramurder," replied the imp.
"And before he came here he was a schoolteacher," asked the Dark Lord.
"Yes, apparently many of his deep seated issues come from something called Parent Teacher conferences," replied the imp.
"So when is he coming for me," asked the Dark Lord.
"When you become a threat, sire," stated the imp, looking around.
"So never," replied the Dark Lord, he wasn't cut out for this. | Hi. My name is Derek Ams, and I guess you could say I'm your average American high schooler, or at least I was up until yesterday.
I have two best friends, Stevie and Jax, who I've known for years, we share everything with each other, even our manga comics! There's also this girl in my class, Lisa, who I've been crushing on for the whole semester. I just can't ever seem to gather enough courage to ask her out, which S & J constantly rib me for.
My grades aren't bad, they could be better though. As my Dad likes to tell me, I should spend less time reading and watching cartoons and more time studying. I know, I get it, it's for the sake of my future, my career, my life blah blah blah. To be honest, in hindsight I just found the whole study and career thing BORING. Maybe that's why I read so much manga and watched so much anime, especially isekai. What I wouldn't have given to live in Tempest with Rimiru helping him to build a nation of monsters, or in Sword Art Online battling Laughing Coffin alongside Kirito and Asuna. Yeah I get it wasn't all fun and games but God did it sound EXCITING.
So anyway, there I was yesterday evening on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by managa and light novels. Painstakingly writing and rewriting a text to Lisa and reading Re:Zero when IT happened. An extraordinarily loud BOOM like the crack of thunder, succeeded by some kind of smokey black and blue vortex opening up in front of me. Whilst I lay there in utter disbelief a small Japanese man wearing a red shirt and glasses with spiky hair appeared to emerge from the vortex and spoke to me "Derek, the Manga Elder Council have named you the most earnest fan of Isekai and deem you worthy to experience such a life. If you desire this then please follow me."
I froze up, mouth ajar, in utter disbelief of what was occurring in front of me. Then the man reached his hand down, I reached up and grabbed it, it was real! And strangely warm. A thousand thoughts and questions ran through my mind; What about S & J? what about studying? What about Lisa?? Fuck it! The man led me into the vortex, my skin tingled but not unpleasantly. As I couldn't see anything in the darkness I held tightly onto his hand not wanting to risk getting lost in this unfathomable place. | 2021-11-03T12:38:34 | 2021-11-03T05:07:33 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Magic is a fickle thing.
It appears differently for everyone. Some see roots like a tree, burrowing through the world. Others see motes of light, floating through the air like stars in the sky. Some even see magic as tiny, microscopic organisms present throughout the world's bloodstream.
Personally, I see magic as ribbons, wrapping around the world and binding everything together.
They looked surprisingly beautiful as they dissolved from my sword, my power being once more absorbed into myself to save me from death.
My friends, however, were not so lucky. Fighting a Dark Lord was... foolish, to say the least, and we'd paid with our lives. It saddened me, to see them go, but that feeling was pushed down. I had bigger problems to deal with.
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "You're still alive? Impressive. No-one's ever survived something like that before. Count yourself lucky to be unique."
As I struggled to my feet, my hoarse voice rebounded around the hall. "Luck has nothing to do with it."
He smiled. "Well, in this case perhaps it does. I'm feeling charitable. You may go."
I didn't move.
His smile faded. "Surely, an Artificer such as yourself is not so stupid as to stay when death is guaranteed."
It was my turn to smile. "Guess I am. So, last chance. Surrender, or the next few minutes won't be fun for either of us."
"Bravado? At the end? I expected more. Your friends are dead, by my hand. You cannot hope to kill or capture me, not alone. So why do you not run?"
My hands met my sides, deftly unhooking the bags that swung there. "Oh, bud, you have no idea. I've been waiting for a chance like this for years. And now you've just gone and killed the last five people telling me not to do stupid shit like this."
His eyes widened as he unconsciously took a step back. "You- You don't mean to..."
"Damn right I do."
He raised his hand, dark energy pooling within. "No! Stop! I know you are not foolish enough to try something like that!"
My smile blossomed into a grin, not of joy but rather speaking of malice. "Buddy, you have no idea how foolish I get when I'm backed into a corner."
"Then burn like your friends! Hell's Fire!" he yelled, a dark wall blazing into being between us, scorching my hair even as I brought the two bags together.
With a roar, I shoved one bag inside the other and chucked them as hard as I could, with the last of my failing strength, towards him.
The ribbons weaved once more, the magic twisting and turning against each other and slamming against the walls of the halls as they dragged us both from one world into the next.
My final moments were spent watching him curse, his fire burning and scorching a world in which no-one lived to be burnt, from which he could never escape.
But even as I died, I sure as hell got the last laugh. It burbled up from my lips, and I took great pleasure in seeing his face contort angrily as the light faded.
"Bags o' holding. Knew they'd come in handy." | "I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
I can't see him, but he towers several feet above me as I feel the spirits leave the bodies of the fallen heroes. A familiarity begins coursing through my body. The heat rising within, ignoring my cold, tattered robes. Tiny sparks crackling in my veins, bringing back a feeling lost ages ago. I struggle to hold back a barely visible grin from under my dark hood.
"Mortal," the Dark Lord continues. "You smile knowing your death is inevitable. I commend your bravery and will make your death quick."
The rush from a fragment of power coursing through me forces a gravelly, maniacal laugh from the depths of my lungs. The Dark Lord's face twists in annoyance. "Your disrespect will not be tolerated!" he bellows before lunging at me.
My long slumbering eyes open to the Dark Lord's face just a few inches away from mine, blood smeared across his face and teeth, the tips of his talons sharp just above my collar bone. He's frozen in time. The Dark Lord's face contorts in fear as he witnesses my strength.
The earth leaves from beneath my feet as a whirlwind circles around me. Finally, enough power for me to grasp and make use of. Millenia of slumber slowly getting being pushed away by the familiar warmth of magic and power. "Do you see now?" I manage to muster from my long underused vocal cords as I lower my hood.
The Dark Lord is released from the grasps of time and falls to the ground. He scrambles as he feels my power awakening and gives a slight look of fear and admiration before adjusting himself and standing tall. "I do," the Dark Lord exclaims after a few seconds of glaring. He looks around at the slain mages and warriors, the remnants of a chapter dedicated to my captivity and downfall. The Dark Lord drops to one knee and bows. "The final preparations have been made, Master. There is nothing to stand in your way." | 2020-07-11T04:57:11 | 2020-07-11T04:45:03 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] You wake up and realize you are not the same gender you were when you went to bed. (Potentially NSFW)
Inspired by [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1q8ojn/if_you_woke_up_one_morning_as_the_opposite_sex/) post. | At 6:30, my phone erupted in light and sound, just as it did every morning. My eyes creaked open, and were nearly blinded by the phone laying on the sheets a few inches in front of my face. My hand reached out from under the covers, and shut off the alarm. With the awful sound gone and blessed darkness back, I closed my eyes slowly. I had no desire to leave the warm comfort of my sheets, where I didn't have to care about anything at all. There was no job to do, no house to clean, and no people to see while in bed. And best of all, there was no sight of the body underneath those sheets; it didn't matter what I looked like, or who I was. When in bed, I was just another tired person.
Despite my best efforts, I could feel the tears building. Sadness began welling deep in my chest, and I could feel my throat beginning to constrict. Memories of the dream that I had been having were still fresh in my mind, and doing their best to drag me into the pits of despair. It had been a wonderful dream, where I had been given just one wish- the one wish that I had had for years. But that wish was still just a dream, and an unrealized one at that.
The phone began buzzing and singing again, signaling the arrival of my first get-the-hell-out-of-bed alarm. I reached out again and shut it off. I would call in sick today. I simply didn't care anymore. No more reports, no more phone calls, no more paper pushing. None of it mattered when I was doomed to always be a different person than I wanted to be.
The next alarm was the loudest yet, just as I had programmed it to be. Chimes blared in my ears, and lights pierced my shut eyelids. I let this alarm run for a few minutes, before turning on my side and facing away from it, content to let it run its course.
Huh, that felt strange. I could feel sheets rubbing against skin that I wasn't aware that I had. I pulled my hands up to my torso, and touched my chest. My eyes instantly shot open and I bolted upright, letting the sheets fly off. My phone followed the sheets, soaring to some corner of the room, where it continued to chime and blare its alarm. I looked downwards, seeing what my still sleepy brain could hardly believe.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, launched myself off of it, and ran over to the full length mirror in the bathroom, acutely aware of the flesh swinging back and forth on my chest. My feet met the cold tiles, and my hand automatically reached to the wall for the light switch. Light flooded the room, and I got a first look in the mirror.
Bright blue eyes, watery from tears looked back at me, wide open in disbelief. No stubble could be found on that chin, and long hair fell gracefully on her thin shoulders. Two very clearly female breasts protruded from her chest. As I looked southwards, I could see quite clearly that this was a very gorgeous woman looking back at me.
I fell to my knees, and the woman in the mirror did the same. I reached out, touching the mirror and the girl that I was looking at. A genuine smile broke across her face- no- my face. Suddenly I knew that everything was going to be alright. | *BLAP BLAP BLAP*
Fucking mornings. Now I have to turn off the alarm. Man do I have to pee. Hmm something feels weird. Whatever, time to go to the bathroom.
Wait, what the fuck?! Where the hell is my penis? Holy shit that is definitely a vagina. What the hell, what the hell. I hope to god I'm dreaming right now. How the hell do you pee with this thing? I guess you just let go.
Jesus how the hell do women do this, it's like a spray bottle. I can't aim for shit this is ridiculous. Maybe I should have sat down to pee. Better clean this up with half a roll of toilet paper like my ex-girlfriends.
At least I'm awake now. God there is still piss all over in this thing. This sucks already. Guess I'm supposed to clean it out with more toilet paper. I'm regretting talking all that shit to my ex-girlfriends about this stuff already.
Oh wait that means I get tits! Alright time to check these bad boys out. Just take off my shirt and...aww damnit. They're super tiny what the hell. I thought for sure I'd have huge tits as a girl. Damn this sucks. They don't even feel that sensitive. Bogus.
Hmm, my body size didn't change that much either. I am one ugly woman. My head hair is still the same length as well. At least I lost my chest hair somehow. Wait where did it go, better check my bed.
Yep, my bed is covered in hair. Yuck. Wonder what the hell is going on. Maybe an alien is fucking with me. I still hope I'm sleeping. Man if this is real my family is going to freak the fuck out. At least I can hide it for a while not having any boobs.
Oh shit does this mean I'll be attracted to men now? God damn it that would suck. Guys are total assholes, I should know. I do not want to have to date the guys willing to tolerate this body. Guess I should check some porn really quick?
Oh thank god I'm still attracted to women. Time to become a butch lesbian I guess? Ooh she is really hot. Guess I should try the new equipment out... | 2013-11-09T18:13:22 | 2013-11-09T16:45:14 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | "Listen, I'm desperate." I hear Vulcan's voice plead from the phone.
"I literally tried to kill you yesterday." I deadpan.
"So'd my ex, actually! Albeit she was a bit closer to being successful than you were." He cheerfully mentions, I sigh as I massage the bridge of my nose.
"You know what, I'm getting curious about this ex of yours. Tell me the address." I can almost visualise him perking up.
"Thank you so much, I owe you my life." He sighs in relief.
"After hearing about your dating history, I'm not sure I want it." I mutter.
"Anyways! It's 1520 Thompson Rd." He chirps. I let out a deep breath, running my hands through my hair.
"Send me the details later, all of them."
Moments later, I receive a text from him, restating the date and time, location as well as the dress code.
Arriving at the venue the next day, I pull up in one of my finer cars in a rich blue suit. At the entrance, I see Vulcan anxiously tapping his foot in a deep garnet suit of his own.
"So, this wasn't a trap." I smirk, walking up to him. He breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing me.
"Thank god you're here, I thought you wouldn't show up." He places a hand on my shoulder. I chuckle.
"What, and miss the chance to see the ever elusive Vulcan in a suit? No way." I joke.
"Actually, uh, can you just call me Aiden here?" He says nervously. I raise a single eyebrow in curiosity.
"They don't know?" I ask. He shakes his head in response. "I guess I'd be Fletcher then." He beams at me, grabbing my hand.
"Well then Fletcher, we have a wedding to get to." He leads me inside where I see a groom awaiting under a floral arch. We find our seats and wait for the ceremony to finish. A beautiful bride, a handsome groom, an elegant but simple ceremony, I had to give it to them, Vulcan's friends knew how to plan a wedding.
"Now for the tough part." I hear him mutter and I can't help but agree. | ‘Bwahahaha!!! I’m going to make this a wedding no is EVER going to forget!!Muwahahaha!!—that laugh was better—Gregory! Remind me to use ‘Muwahahaha’ in all further expository speeches…..Where were we? Oh, you were begging me to help you, its adorable. Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
‘This ex, any dislikes or allergies maybe?Oh, you have a list (a little desperate)—what nothing at all, nothing, just fax it too me—no no no message me, message me—god what what century am I living in?!? Hehe. (Oh god, never chuckle like that again, jesus, whose desperate now), I’ll pick you up in my stretched Cadillac, wear something that matches a fur coat and baby seal leather wingtips, we’re going to be fabulous, darling.
‘Oh, yes, ‘darling’ until this charade is over, darling.’ | 2022-10-06T18:55:36 | 2022-10-06T16:34:26 | 234 | 83 |
[WP] A single dad of two girls is a nighttime superhero. Sometimes though, he forgets to take out the braids in his hair, or wash off the nail polish, and some of the supervillains are getting suspicious...
| The babysitter costs are ridiculous for a superhero. I barely sleep as it is, but someone has to protect the city. When the city needs a hero, I answer the call, after I tuck my girls into bed and kiss them goodnight. Sure, there are remnants of them all over me, but I don't think my enemies notice.
I've done a good job of keeping the ones who harm at bay, but they are combining their efforts and growing stronger. Tonight, I've followed them to a warehouse down by the docks where they gathered to discuss how to defeat me. Little do they know that I'm listening. I turn my radio on and press it against my ear. The meeting has already started.
"notice that he has nail polish on?"
I can't make out the voice. I move to a window to get a visual. It's Crimson Menace speaking.
"Like do you think he's a transvestite?" He asks.
"What no? That can't be. He's probably like a prostitute," says the Scarlett Twister.
"No, what? That doesn't make any sense. How would that...you're crazy. He's clearly a hand model," says the Red Badge of Carnage.
"He wears nail polish?" Asks the Maroon Marauder.
"Yes, haven't you noticed? It's so obvious. I thought he was wearing lipstick once too, and I've definitely seen his hair in braids," says the Menace.
"I bet he's a dad. That sounds like dad stuff," Says the Marauder.
The group turns to look at their fellow villain. I watch as something clicks inside them all. My heart races, and my hands shake. It takes a few long seconds, but I calm down. There are thousands maybe millions of dads in the city. Them knowing he is a father added a diminutive amount of risk for his daughters. They need to know my name for them to be in any risk. The Marauder continues.
"I also know who he is. His name is...James Hunter. I am 90% sure."
"How do you know that?" Asks the Twister.
"I found his spying equipment hidden here. He left his name on it. A real rookie mistake, but I bet he's listening right now."
I didn't leave my name on it, but I didn't remove the serial number either. A cashier without money and/or scruples would happily give away that information. It is my name though. The pieces fall into place. This is a set-up and I am trapped. I want to run away, but I listen for a few more minutes.
"I found everything on him. Where he lives, works, etc. He's a window and a dad of two little girls. Sorry to have kept this from you, but his daughters are minutes away from being abducted. We are about to win. Well, I'm about to win. Sorry, gentlemen. Our great plan to team up is unnecessary unless we want to take him down together. But, if I were him, I would be on my way home. There still might be a chance, James."
I do some math in my head. Twenty minutes back to the apartment if I'm lucky. I swing down to my motorcycle and race home. I think of all the mistakes I made and how I would never forgive myself if something happened to them. I nearly get hit a dozen times, but I make it home in 12 minutes. Even my name, The Night Hunter, is reckless. I use my grappling hook to climb up to my apartment. I open the door on the deck and walk in.
The babysitter sleeps on the couch. I make sure that she is just sleeping, but I see her chest heave, up and down. I walk into my girls' room. The floor is covered in toys, and I step on one. I bite my tongue to keep from howling in pain. I examine both of them closely. I am relieved. They are safe here and uninjured. Then, it strikes me. Oh, no, it was a bluff. I lead them right to my family.
[Finale](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/5a7eio/wp_a_single_dad_of_two_girls_is_a_nighttime/) | "Nail Polish...?" Ruel jeered as he glanced at the hands around his throat, "Do explain."
"You are in no position to argue Ruel! I hold all of the power. You know that I am more powerful. I guess your own invention worked against you! Now I am the only one with superpowers. Your days of evil are no more!" Utah replied angrily. Ruel glanced at him thoughtfully, in a manner so unnerving, especially with his cunning mind that Utah threw him against the wall with all of the might he could muster. "Leave here, and should I ever see you again, know that you are not safe." Ruel smirked conspiringly and fled from the wrecked room.
Utah stepped away from the wall he had held Ruel against, brushing the dust off of his chest. It was a close call that evening, for he had nearly lost his powers of speed, strength and confidence, for Ruel had designed a machine that sapped the power from someone and gave it to another, but Utah had remedied this and instead now held Ruel's powers of invisibility, telekenisis and teleportation. The threat of Ruel was gone after all of this years.
Utah returned home that evening in soaring spirits, however even he needed sleep, so with a celebratory glass of scotch he retired for the night, said goodnight to Tiana and Tiffany and then went to sleep.
Utah woke up in the lovely weekend, returning the sun's optimistic greeting of the day with a smile and went to the twins' room to say good morning. He meandered merrily through the house to find their door ajar. He chuckled to himself as he found their empty beds, for they'd recently become best friends with the neighbour and their cat, and were regularly waking up early to say hello.
They'd just turned seven a couple of weeks ago and they were the light of his life. He lived for their joyful faces and optimistic outlook. Their mother Isobel died in childbirth, they'd never known her, but she was a lovely woman. Without her though, the twins are all he had, but he loved them enough to devote all his time and attention to them.
Utah strolled out into the kitchen and made himself a quick breakfast of cereal and then made his way to the lounge room. The bowl smashed when it fell out of his numb hands, the milk of the cereal mingling with the twins' combined blood. He stared in horror and their disfigured corpses and fell to his knees, an agonized cry escaping his hoarse throat. He cradled them in his arms for the last time when he heard a voice behind him.
"And thus the great mystery unravels itself *Utah*, thanks to a particular brand of nail polish and my cunning. And to think you said it was you who held all of the power?"
For in the end, it was not Ruels hand that struck the final blow that snuffed out Utah once and for all, it was Utah's own. | 2016-10-30T09:54:35 | 2016-10-30T08:56:22 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] A man makes a deal with the devil to make the world's greatest pizzas in exchange for his soul. After years of making pizza he decides it's no longer worth it, and concedes his soul to the devil. The devil, having become addicted to the man's recipe, finds himself in a bind. | "What do you mean it's not worth it?" The devil asked incredulously.
Standing in the small pentagram of lit candles, Sam shifted in discomfort at the devil's small outburst. After all, it was not typical for the king of hell to lose their composure over something like this. The devil should be rejoicing in the newest addition of souls to his collection in hell but instead, all he felt was a mild panic broiling through his veins. Sam could no longer cook pizzas in the nine layers of hell. They would all burn to a crisp, surely, and this was not something he was willing to give up just yet.
"It's not that I don't appreciate the gift you have given me," Sam said as if worried he might've offended the devil and risked inflicting his wrath. "But... I don't know. I wanted to be the best pizza maker in the world to escape my monotonous office job and pursue something I was passionate about. Now all I do is make the same pizzas that I know everyone will love. The thrill of experimenting with new techniques and flavors is all gone because I know they will just be perfect in the end. I've done all I can, and now I'm tired."
He devil's mouth hung agape as his mind went into overdrive thinking of what his signature silver tongue might weave to convince this man otherwise. It was not unusual for someone to give up their soul early when the fear of what loomed proved to be too much, or if the gift was not what they had expected. However, the devil had his own secret. He didn't just make deals with anyone. He can sense the despertion building in a person weeks before they ever came to bargain with him. The moment his name flickers into their mind, it is a beacon to him. Normally, this gives him the opportunity to walk amongst people and disguise himself to get more information on these people. Ways to sweeten the deal or tempt them to the edge. Sam needed no tempting. While the devil had been in disguise, hunting Sam, he had tasted the pizza he had made for his dear mother whilst the devil took a joyride in her meat suit.
It had been the best damn pizza that the devil had ever known.
The devil was familiar enough with the deadly sin of gluttony, but he had never truly experienced the addiction of it himself before Sam's pizzas. He could feel Sam's desperation for notoriety and recognition building, so the day that he had summoned the devil to bargain had been one the devil was expecting. What he had NOT been expecting was, while making the contract, the devil decided that he could not bring himself to ruin a soul of such an amazing craft. There was nothing that the devil could give him in terms of talent that he did not already possess, so it would not have been a fair trade. So instead, the devil made a fake contract and decided to gift him something that he needed far more: opportunity.
It had taken awhile of jumping around from meat suit to meat suit, trying to stay in character and not beg for another bite as Sam finally got the rental space of his dreams for his pizza place. He opened for business and the devil hopped around planting the seeds of desire in hundreds of people that passed by, but it was their own desire that kept them coming back all of these years later. It was Sam's natural talent and the confidence that he could not go wrong that drove him to perfectionism. The devil may have laid the groundwork for him, but his soul was not the devil's to keep.
"Y-You can't!" The devil squeaked, kicking himself as he cleared his throat and forced himself to start again. "Your soul is not ripe yet!"
This seemed to stop Sam, who frowned and quirked his eyebrow up in confusion. "It's not... ripe? How do we make it ripe?"
The devil scowled internally at Sam's stupid problem solving attitude. Perfect for a chef, awful for the devil who was making this up by the seat of his pants.
"You have to..." he trailed off for a moment before a light bulb of an idea struck him. He smirked proudly. "You have to be at your happiest. I can't take a soul already beaten to hell. After all, the point is to break you down from your highest. So, you have to go out and make yourself happy."
The frown on Sam's face deepened. "How do I do that?" He nearly whined.
Rolling his eyes, the devil sighed. "Fine, you say that you miss the experimentation before I gave you my gift, yes? Well, what if I came to your restaurant in disguise, once every couple of months at random. My gift will not apply to any alterarions you make to existing recipes or any new recipes you create. I will try whatever new thing you have on the menu, and if it is not to my liking, I will drag your soul to hell then and there."
"You can change the deal like that?"
"I'm not changing the deal, am I? You are the best pizza maker in the world for the recipes you already know, anything new does not have to be included in our deal. And you already said you were willing to give up your soul early, so it is of no consequence if I take it at my leisure," the devil said with confidence.
He could see the fire of rebellion and determination sparking in Sam's eyes at the challenge that lies ahead of him. He set his jaw, feigning anger despite the twisted excitement that the devil knew he felt from the taste of his soul.
"Fine," Sam bit out, nearly bouncing with an excited itch. There had been recipes he had been holding back. Now it was a matter of picking which one to serve the devil first.
The devil nodded solemnly, his own excitement at the idea of new pizzas bubbling up. "Fine. I will come next week, you better be prepared," he said, emanating a threatening tone.
Sam nodded, perhaps not trusting himself to speak and the devil smirked wickedly before disappearing from the pentagram with a woosh of candle smoke.
Next week could not come soon enough for either of them.
(I wrote this on mobile while in the bathtub but I had fun with it! Pardon any editing or formatting issues!) | Look, you just...
Okay. To start off with, this 'soul' business is a load of BS. If it existed like that, not only would it never make any sense to trade it, you'd never be *able* to. Since it's, y'know, *part* of you.
Yes, you can sell a kidney, but this is a lot more like selling your whole nervous system. Just trust me, it doesn't work.
So when someone 'sells their soul', what they *really* mean is that they want the focus of their lives to become...whatever. A conduit of a cultural conception- pizza, in this case, but it can be anything. Wealth, power, sex, videogames...the requests run the gamut, they really do.
Here, have a bit from scripture. "Man cannot serve both God and money." You've got a list of strategic considerations that you live your life by- you rank happiness and truth and curiosity and sex and everything else, and live your life accordingly. When you have to choose between one or the other, you pick the one that's higher on your list.
Don't act so shocked. You know demons can quote scripture, right? One of our favorite pastimes.
So someone sells their soul, and we tweak their minds a little (and only a little- if they're going that far, they don't need much more encouragement), and whatever they wished to sell their soul for moves to the top of the list.
"Seek and you shall find." If you dedicate your life to making the best pizza possible, pretty solid odds that you'll end up making pretty damn good pizza with no more supernatural meddling.
And holy hell, this guy's pizza was *good*. Humans usually go for something more shallow, more personal. Other people don't benefit when you've got loads of money, and it's only a few people who benefit when you're preternaturally good at sex.
Pizza, though...
I just...\*mph\*...*Gawd* this shit is tasty. He's moved society forward, that's what he's done. I swear to fuck, last week? They had another peace conference to sort shit out in the Middle East, and they served this guy's pizza, *and they actually got shit done*. No idea if it'll *last*, but this guy has made a fucking *impact*. Political partisanship is down, because bigwigs can relax a little and bond over how ass-kicking this pizza is.
Only now this guy decides that it's not worth it any more. He's ready for his life to be over- comes to me and specifically says to go ahead and take him down to hell. Which- I mean, one, I don't have that kinda authority. You make your own afterlife, with the sort of person you were. You life in an afterlife that's mostly like the earth, only everyone has your values, makes decisions like you do.
This guy was trying to escape pizza by going for an eternity of it. This is why you don't sell your soul, people- doesn't matter what it is, having one thing at the top of your list forever gets boring. And living in a whole society obsessed with it? *Ugh*.
I mean, I coulda just shot 'im. He had, technically, given me permission to do just that. But, I mean...
Look, this shit is *really* tasty.
I'm a simple demon. I've got simple tastes, simple desires. Lead humanity on the downward path, tempt simpletons, eat, drink, and be merry. Enjoy the simple things in life, y'know?
But I've also got an image to maintain. When you're a demon, marketing is everything. Literally everything- demons exist because humans *think* we exist. It's in our self-interest to *keep* humans thinking that.
So I combined two objectives. "Continue to exist" and "Keep eating this guy's pizza" were both pretty high on my personal priority list.
No comment on which was higher.
"So, the foolish human regrets his bargain. What a shame, what a shame. I would happily take this burden from your shoulder, except for the fact that I don't want to."
"You made a bargain, and you will see it through to the bitter end. Do you think that demons are in the business of caring tenderly for the humans they make deals with? We are not. We are simple beings, very simple- iron hooks, let us say, for fools and simpletons to impale themselves upon. Do not expect mercy from the hook, when you have swallowed the bait."
"Go forth, my foolish man. Go forth, and cook, and suffer. You will be remembered for all time- immortal, in the annals of human history. All for your pizza. And not for *anything* else."
I smiled an evil smile. | 2022-09-02T20:16:29 | 2022-09-02T20:13:33 | 131 | 62 |
[WP] Write about a world where whenever somebody writes on their skin, it appears on their soulmate's body as well. | It took a damn long time for my ink to show. As kids, none of us could really make out any writing that showed up on our bodies. But then, most everyone's was at least somewhat legible by the time they were a teen, and almost always completely clear by the time they were 18 or 19. Throughout high school and college I watched my friends use their writing to find their soulmates as soon as they could make out the messages their alleged soulmates were sending. By the time I could read mine though, I was already in my mid twenties, and over the excitement of it all. The messages that would appear on my arms and hands were usually questions about me, doodles, or suggestions to meet up. I ignored them all, and went on with my life.
After a year or so, I met Roy. He hated the idea of finding a soulmate though the strange and foreign messages on his body just as much as I did, so we stuck together in our rebelliousness. Weeks went by, and the messages we got from our "soulmates" came less and less. They faded, as the months Roy and I spent together went on. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Not once, in all those years we spent together did we ever wonder what happened to the ones who sent the messages. All we needed was each other. Today though, as we send out our wedding invitations, Roy is staring at me, with happy tears in his eyes. His hand is held towards me, with a simple phone number written down in the middle of his palm. The same number, in the same marker, in the same handwriting that I just wrote down on my own palm.
I was never told to love Roy. It wasn't fate that brought us together. We did that on our own. We trusted our love, and in doing so, became soulmates. | I’d always write “I love you” on my hand while at work just so I knew she would receive it. She never found the time to give me a reply because she was so busy.
As it turns out, she never replied because she was busy... or so I thought. I found out the hard way when she made the mistake of adding numbers together on her hand and forgot to wash them.
It sucks when you love someone, and you were meant to be with them, but they were never meant to be with you. | 2018-04-01T21:53:10 | 2018-04-01T21:46:25 | 63 | 17 |
[WP] When Earth gained magic, many workers from unseeming professions rose to power. Artists used their vast imagination, scientists their intricate understanding of the world around them... but programmers spent their time finding exploits and bugs. | The world ended June 14th, 2063.
The first harbinger of doom was the Great Awakening, as it was called. The moment when magic came back to the world. In retrospect it was a long time coming, slowly building over the course of generations. It wasn't until it hit a critical tipping point where conscious manifestation could occur that anybody actually knew what was going on. It was on that day, February 29th 2020 that some thing strange started happening all across the world. Whenever someone strongly visualized something they would affect the world around them. At first only artists seemed to possess the visualization skills necessary to manifest changes into the world. It was minor at first, a splash of water here, a candle flame there. But it increased in scope and scale as time went on, as magic grew stronger. Soon other professions joined in, authors and engineers, actors and technicians. More and more people could manifest greater and greater effects, though even the most potent of effects were dwarfed by muscle power.
The second harbinger of doom was called the Magical Renaissance. Those of a more abstract mindset could manifest. Scientists, as is their nature, sought to learn all they could of this new phenomena, and learned that by combining classical physics with the new magical physics they could create far greater effects than previously manifested. Archimedes once said "If you give me a lever and a place to stand, I can move the world." Physics is the lever, and magic is the place to stand. Knowing where to push made all the difference in the world. On October 31st 2040 the first unaided human flight occurred, a feat previously thought impossible as an odd quirk in the pile of quirks that was magic meant picking yourself up was just as impossible with magic as it was without it. But as it turns out, with the right mindset and knowledge, you can nudge the vector forces of gravity and just *not fall.* Suddenly magic went from being a neat, though dangerous, toy to a serious force ripe for exploitation. A golden age of discovery and abundance was upon us. Or so we thought.
But magic didn't stop there. The third and final harbinger of doom was yet to come, unnamed because so very few could even recognize it as a harbinger of doom. The potency of magic continued to rise, but it was just noise attributed to experimentation and proficiency rather than a continuing swell. Nobody quite realized that the more and more abstract and indirect concepts were able to be manifested due to an inherent and fundamental change. Until that fateful day. June 11th, 2063. The day the first self-referential spell was cast. Conditional spells were uncommon, but known, a manifestation that would go one way under certain conditions and another way under other conditions. But this spell was different. Someone managed to chain a conditional effect in such a way that the spell recast itself when the right conditions were met. The technique spread and it was like the Great Awakening all over again, a world of untapped potential just waiting to be realized.
And realized it was. All it took was one little mistake, one poorly designed spell. Recursion without an achievable exit condition. A spell continually recasting itself, spawning infinite copies of itself. On a computer it's a problem, but a resolvable one. Absolute worst case scenario you just wipe the corrupted drive and restart from scratch. It turns out reality has a lot in common with a computer, and this was an absolute worst case scenario.
And so the world ended June 14th, 2063, three full days after the first recursive spell. Magic is gone, crashed out of existence. Nobody can feel even the subtle indications that were only initially identifiable in retrospect.
I wonder when it'll come back again. | "Get out of the wall, Dave," Samantha said, barely bothering to look up.
"No, you don't understand. If I backflip just right here, I'll be able to transport instantly to Malibu beach. Early vacation, my dude," Dave said, though it was a bit disconcerting that his head was halfway cut off by the office wall. Even more trouble was the fact that he was probably the most normal of the lot right now.
When the entirety of an IT department gains magical powers overnight, it is a bit more than a member of middle management can even begin to handle. Samantha had basically given up at this point. She now had to add the acronyms "PvP," "OC," and "NFT," to her lexicon, when she was already confused by "IP," "HTTP," and, well, "NFT." Out of the twenty of the computer experts under her, maybe three could still be classified as human, as the rest edited their bodies to match various online profile pictures. Antoine had walked in with twelve hands, each holding an identical frappuccino that he swore he used a duplication glitch to get. Amy was now a quadrillionaire, and had crashed the world economy five times on accident while in the toilet. Jeff was still stuck in the moon.
Was this the case the world over? Samantha didn't know and couldn't even begin to care. She wasn't good at computers, she didn't know how to code, and the idea that her subordinates could see the ones and zeroes of the universe was just a little bit scary. Her answer to this conundrum? Pretend that everything was okay, and she would probably just wake up soon and it would all be alright. Screw flight and fight. Dissociation was way easier.
"Ah, shoot."
The wall was gone. Why was the wall gone?
"Dave, did you do that?"
"Ah, yeah, sorry Sam, I didn't, I -"
"Can you put it back?"
"Well, I don't, you see, I'm not sure... I think I deleted the -"
"Put it back, Dave," she said, glaring the way she did when any servers had unexpected downtime. Dave's eyes went pitch black.
"Yes boss," he said. Not a moment later, the wall was there again.
"Everybody, can you look at me please?" She glared, looking out at the menagerie of critters that was her IT department. Pitch black eyes. A chorus of "yes boss" greeted her.
Oh.
Okay. | 2022-05-11T15:59:25 | 2022-05-11T12:23:01 | 97 | 66 |
[WP] The Devil promises you everything: fame, fortune, all the things a mortal will ever need for paradise on earth. But he doesn't want your soul, he just wants you to take his socially awkward daughter, Gertrude, out on a date. Make her special, y'know?
**EDIT** All of your responses have been amazing! I wish I had time to leave feedback on all of them. You guys rock! | We sat quietly in the back of the boat while Charon slowly ferried us across the Acheron. Gertrude stared down at the waters below, where souls of the damned who couldn't afford the crossing were forever trapped in the muddy depths. She was really quite beautiful; not at all what I'd been expecting after Satan's offer. I mean, he'd promised me the world in exchange for taking her out on a date. I'd expected her to look... well, like him. Goat hooves and horns and red skin and everything. But she was just a normal girl.
"So... you grew up here in Hell?" I asked.
Gertrude adjusted her glasses and shrank back like she was scared of the sound of my voice. "Yes," she answered meekly, then turned back to look at the water again. I rolled my eyes and checked my watch. This was going to be harder than I thought.
---
"Well, I wanted to study marine biology," she said, picking at her pork chop, "But Daddy didn't want me to. Said that there's no water in Hell anyway except for the river. Water would give the damned hope, or something like that. I don't know."
"Why not just move away from Hell?"
Gertrude scoffed looked at me with a quivering smile. "Daddy would never let me do that. He tells me about all of the terrible things that you mortals do to each other and how they would kill and rape me as soon as I stepped out into the street alone. He says that Earth is a horrible place."
*You are from HELL*, I wanted to tell her. *How could EARTH be worse than that?*
"It's really not that bad," I told her. "Sure, some people are bad, but it's only a few. You just see the worst of the worst because of, well, you know."
She took a sip of water and wiped her mouth. I had to admit, she had excellent manners; I'd expected an utter boor after meeting her dad. "I suppose that's true," she answered.
"You should try living here for a while. It seems like that's what you would want. You could get away from all that fire and brimstone and torture for a while. It's really quite pleasant! There's a lot to see!"
For a moment, she looked like she might cry. Then she went back to picking at her dinner.
"Daddy would never allow it."
---
After our meal, we went to the beach. I brought a blanket and candles and a bottle of wine. She was nervous as first, but as soon as she got her shoes off and dug her toes into the soft sand, she was a different person. Bubbly and friendly. She laughed and joked and I chased her through the surf until we both collapsed into the sand, completely out of breath. It was almost hard to believe that this is the same person I'd picked up from Hell only a few hours ago.
"You've really never been to the sea before?" I asked her.
She gazed out at the waves. "No," she said. "I've only read about it. Daddy doesn't let me out very much." She bit her top lip, and I thought I saw a tear. Maybe it was just ocean spray. "It's beautiful though. Better than I ever imagined. Thank you for bringing me."
She turned to me and planted a kiss on my lips. I don't know which one of us was more surprised; she shrank back like I was a snake and covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were wide with shock.
"I'm sorry!" she uttered. "I would never normally do that!"
I laughed, pulled her hand away, and kissed her again.
----
I returned to hell around midnight. Satan greeted me at the gate.
"I did it," I told him. "I took her out, and we had a lovely time."
He nodded. "Good. She's been getting restless in here; I had to do something. Hopefully this will keep her satisfied for a few hundred years."
I stayed silent.
"Well, name your price. Whatever you want."
I smiled. "I already got what I want. I only came back to let you know that we're all settled up. Thanks for everything, sir."
I turned and left. Only then did Satan notice that Gertrude hadn't returned to Hell with me. She was waiting back at my apartment.
---
If you all enjoyed this story, you should also [come visit my subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/luna_lovewell) for hundreds more!
| "So tell me about yourself", I say as we sit down at the table. The restaurant is dimly lit, and the dull sound of Italian music fills the air.
"Well," Gertrude begins with her deep, harsh voice.
"And here's your bread", the waiter says cheerfully as he puts a basket of bread on the table between us.
As he begins rattling off the specials of the day and trying to crack corny, contrived jokes, I can't help but be worried for him. I imagine being a waiter can be pressure filled on normal days, but today this motherfucker is serving Satan's daughter. He doesn't even know, and neither do I for that matter, what the fuck is about to go down if he messes this up.
"What can I start you off to drink?"
"I'll have a water to start," I say.
Gertrude just stares at me blankly.
"..what do you want to drink?" I ask her as politely as possible.
She locks on to me, "Water".
The waiter clears his throat in an uncomfortable manner, and I try to shake off how fucking creepy that just was.
"So anyway," I try to ease the tension, "what were you saying?"
"Oh!" she says excitedly, "I almost forgot. I'm a bit of a clean freak. I'm always cleaning up around the house. I'm also a little wild. Which, as you can imagine has gotten me in trouble through childhood."
She lets out a sudden, loud laugh that jolts me out of my seat. The whole restaurant seems to turn to look at us.
"That's - oh man. I bet you were just a wild child," I say.
"My Dad used to call me the Devil's daughter! Can you believe that?!" Gertrude laughs obnoxiously.
With confusion, I try not to show it. *Does she know who her Dad is? Or is that supposed to be ironic?* I think to myself.
"Well, that is crazy!" I begin to carefully pry, "I wonder why!"
She stops laughing and looks at me with a serious face.
"It's because I was bad. You know, the Devil is bad or whatever?"
"Oh. Yeah!" I mutter as I wipe the sweat off my hands. *This bitch doesn't even know. Hoooly shit she doesn't know who her Dad is.*
"So how did you meet my Dad?" she asks as the waiter places down our waters.
"..At a.. uhh.. at the grocery store," I say before nervously sipping my water.
"My dad was at the grocery store?" she says with confusion.
"Yeah. Yep. That's where we met. Mmhmm.."
"That's weird... He normally doesn't eat anything from there," Gertrude says while pulling out her phone and texting.
*Don't ask. Don't ask. Just get through dinner. Don't fucking ask*
"What, uh, what does he normally eat?"
*God damnit*
Gertrude's head shoots up at me from her phone and without hesitation, "Human flesh".
My eyes widen. There's a silence as I stare at Gertrude and she looks back towards her phone nonchalantly.
"So, did we decide what we want to eat?" the waiter comes back.
"Chicken parmesan," I mutter. "We'll both have chicken parmesan". | 2015-05-20T08:24:11 | 2015-05-20T07:56:32 | 1,797 | 150 |
[WP] You’re a Superhero whose superpower is Deescalation. You fight villains by talking through their issues and helping them to make better choices. | No one sees the night before a magician's act, the beads of sweat forming as a pale faced man checks and double checks those traps and tricks that he must escape.
Nor the writing process of a comedian, as she crafts a solid fifteen minutes of material that is written and re-written to prepare for heckles and forgotten lines.
No one sees my process either. The mixture of slight premonition and person skills that lead me to plot my approach. The best of all possible approaches. With a margin for error of course.
\----
I had been called to the scene that I'd seen developing on the news last night. Despite everything, I'd insisted on waiting until 10am. Any sooner could have been lethal. Any sooner, and I may not have made the interesting discovery about how things could go.
I walked slowly up to the building, an apple juice box carton in one hand and a clipboard in the other. I had the basic details of the case I had gone over a thousand times, but they'd stop believing me if they caught a glimpse of blank paper. I hated ties, but I had this one done in a scruffy knot. Smart would have worked better, but I'll take an extra half hour of prep if it means I don't have to wear the tie properly.
I walked into the door of the laboratory, turned down a narrow corridor, and took a lift to the lowest basement floor. It was the only way to give them enough time to prepare for me arrival and not shoot me out of instinct. I even pressed an extra button to stop the lift halfway and give them a small amount of extra time.
\----
I actually like elevator music. Come at me.
\----
\*bing\*
*GET ON THE GROUND*
"What?" I responded. "The machines are too loud!"
*ON. THE GROUND.*
A shady figure stood behind a control panel in the centre of the room. They were pointing a gun at me with a shaky arm, but their arm over the panel was steady. Why do you aim with a non-dominant arm? Only when the gun is your second most important weapon.
I took a swivel chair.
"You're...The Future Cometh? Don't worry, I'm not coming any closer. I'm in a swivel chair, I can't move fast in this thing. What should I call you bud?". The swivel chair thing was a lie. I prided myself on being able to clear a full room in three seconds with a good push. Maybe two.
*Call me...ah, well.*
"The whole name is quite long is all."
*Yeah, I..uh, never expected anyone to actually have to use it to my face*
"Sorry, the machines are still a bit loud. Can I move closer? Say, to this row with the plant enthusiast?"
*...Sure. No closer.*
"Cheers. Imma go for TFC. That ok with you? It's a good full name, but TFC is a little nicer for conversation". I stopped very slightly shy of the plant-encrusted computer, to be clear I was not pushing boundaries. This was going well. We were on a main path of events. Even better, we were on the one critical path.
*TFC is nice. What do you want? I'm going to destroy this place. There's nothing you can do.*
"And there's nothing I want to do, other than chat. I insisted on this. The men upstairs (and it is mostly men) wanted to send down a team with weapons. Stop you before you could destroy any of this. Your research and everyone else's.
*My research?* The figure cackled. It was a fine cackle. *My death plans you mean. They could wipe out entire cities with what I have made.*
I took a sip of my juice cartoon, gesturing at TFC to continue. I glanced at my notes a little as he spoke, trying to focus roughly near where the relevant scrawlings were for each part of the speech
*I just wanted a good job. I wanted a steady income. I'm not a bad person. But before I realised what happened, they'd got me working on projects. Projects that, well...*
Staying silent for thirty whole seconds was tough. I'd chosen a squeeky chair and knew what any noise now would mean.
*Projects that I didn't want to be part of. Every group is slightly separate, according to the moral crimes they can commit. I found the practical testers. I don't know where they get the subjects, but they can't be volunteers. No one would volunteer to have their skin melt like that. But in their heads, the practical testers weren't the bad ones, they could never have come up with torture tools like this. And us researchers never imagined things would actually be used, or didn't imagine the purpose. That was up to the doctors who thought it was just consultant work. Some of them assumed it was for movies.*
*I found out. I don't know who that target is, but I know it could wipe out a city. A big one. And there would be no defence, and no warning. One day, I and everyone in our company would look up at the news, and realise what our work had done. I just realised before it happened.*
"So. What now? I can see your arm is getting tired, I'm happy to move back a little if you want because you wont be able to hold the gun up much longer". I could see the figure consider it, and then put the gun down before I could move.
*No. It's ok. There's nothing you can do anyway. As soon as I take my finger off this button, this building goes up and all the research with it.*
"Including you?"
*Including me*
Two branches spread from this point. Two different paychecks, although I didn't care much for that.
"And, **all** the research?"
*Yes..All the research.*
Another pause. I counted 124 seconds in my head.
"You didn't save any research did you?"
*How...Who are you?*
"Doesn't matter. I'm sorry, you're right, there's nothing I can do to save you. " As the other branch closed, it became the truth. "But I don't want what you're about to do to be in vain. Not for the sake of vanity.". I had now hidden the juice box so as not to distract them. The plant foliage provided just enough camouflage if you weren't looking straight at it.
*I mean. You're right. But it's at home. My son will still be there*
I stood up, and started to leave. I couldn't know before talking where the other research would be hidden, but I knew who I was dealing with. Cogs started whirring in my brain. "I know you're smart. You can target the weapon to hit your house too. It's in hard files, because you knew they could track any code. So, here's what is going to happen. You're going to give me your son's phone number. I'm going to call him, and ask him to come here, saying you're in trouble at work. It's the only thing that will get him to leave without question. That will give you a five minute window to enact your plan without harming him.
*...why can't I make the call?*
"Because you're going to need all your will to do what you need to do. You know you might ask him to save some work. He can't know anything about what you do until it's too late. And I want to be the one to let him know, before the police do.
A solid minute's pause.
*alright*
\---
1/2 (short conclusion in the comments) | I thought I could solve all of the world's problems. That by taking my time to speak to the villains without an ounce of judgement would help get the world to a better place. Peace in inner cities, downtown, in the suburbs, towns, villages, everywhere.
I had helped many before. The Mighty Mystique who hypnotised rich people to take all their money was raised in the lowest level of poverty imaginable. He tried to subdue me too, but my ability to see through magic cut through his. We had a cup of coffee at a cafe and ate cakes and laughed about Pingu. His kids were toddlers. Mine were just a little older. He gave himself up, returned goods, got pardoned by the wealthier who were inspired to donate to better causes. He opened his own cafe. It's doing so well. I'm so proud of him.
Well. He was doing well.
Until he was found after no contact. You see, we had weekly catch ups. He had moved far away from others to hide away from his old allies. His cafe was under police protection - but his home wasn't. Something about public safety, not his safety. I remember a deep unease brewing. I had thought that I was unsuccessful. That was my own selfish thought. That I had failed to be his saviour.
And yet, his wife and children, still in their beds, cold as a Winter's cruel night. Him, at the front of his house, hand outstretched, as if he had been crawling, a trail of blood behind leading from his bed. Eyes open wide.
I was flawed. I thought that I'd done a good thing. But he was dead. And that, ultimately, was my fault. Because I didn't fix the problem. I didn't de-escalate the major issue. I had just... Patted myself on the back for job well done, and walked away humming a tuneless song, blind to the fires lit all around me.
For weeks afterwards, all the people who had turned a leaf were found brutally murdered in their own homes, or their cars, or on the street, or whilst shopping for Christmas presents. Their families too. Parents, children... And the police did nothing. They said they'd try to look for killers. Yet not a single thing could be found.
No one knew who the Boss was. I asked, I trained to become stronger, to urge people to tell me, emotive language spilling from my mouth like splutters and drool. I was beside myself when crime increased and innocent people continued to be slaughtered.
And one day, I came home. To blood. And a woman sat amongst my beloved corpses strewn on the cream carpeted floor in our living room. They had their colouring pencils out. Papers stained with blood splatter over their beautiful scribbles. The TV flickering on low volume. I couldn't hear a thing except my heart.
Her eyes were black. Dark. Cold. No trace of emotion. A line for lips. No wrinkles, no sign of nose pads indents. Nothing to tell me a single thing. She wore black. Clothes that were not spectacular or special in any way.
"You've been messing with my business," she said. Not a single speck of emotion. Her voice was robotic, smooth. Calculated, perfect.
She stood up as I fell to my knees without a sound. I couldn't make a single noise. I was frozen in time in the woman's presence. It was dark and empty, not cruel not evil. There was no sign of anything that could help me understand *why*.
"I hear you can calm my people down. That you change their minds when you speak to them," she said and bent down and touched my wife's chin.
"How do you do it?" she said as she let my wife's chin go. Her face rolled to the side. Eyes wide open, just like the others. Just like all the fucking others. And still, with every part of me wanting to spring up and strangle the woman as she stood up, I could not move at all.
"Well, I don't care, really. I don't need to. I don't need to concern myself with how. I just," she said as she reached me and bent down before me. My body was begging to move, to do something. But I was still.
"...Kill anyone who gets in my way," she finished. She took out a stained blade from her pocket and moved it before my eyes.
And I tried to get through to her. My breaths were calm, though they wanted to be erratic. My heart was normal, though it had just sprinted through my ribs. I was, undeniably, calm. Calm enough to control my thoughts and, therefore, powers.
*Whatever has hurt you to make you do this, you can break free.*
That's what I transferred into her mind. The words hurt to say, because no amount of trauma in her past would ever make me feel sympathy.
I don't have sympathy for anyone. I just want to stop evil. When I spoke to the Mighty Mystique, I wanted to stop the nonsense. The robberies, the fraud, the cruelty to the poor workers who he attacked, believing they were collateral for trying to live whilst working for unethical people. I hated it more than anything. My younger sister was stabbed when she refused to give her bag to a petty thief. A school bus full of children was attacked because the driver was a runner for the mafia. I stopped it all. Because I hated it with a burning passion that set my blood on fire.
And I stared into the eyes of an emotionally vacant murderer who stared back with the growth of emotions.
Emotions I regret bringing to the surface. First surprise. A strange aura that seeped from her skin. And then a ferocious rage like a tornado twisting through an entire city, destroying it in an instant.
And then, there was fear. An all-consuming, thick, deep, suffocating fear that burst from her like a nuclear bomb had been detonated. My own body could feel the fear radiate right down to my bones that rattled. My heart was forced into a unbelievable beat that knocked me forward into a strong unconsciousness.
As I fell, the woman walked away, blade in hand, not another word, the fear wrapped around her like a tough, unbreakable skin.
And I regretted every single step that I had ever taken that got me there. To a true Hell. One I would have never imagined. To them. | 2019-12-08T00:43:07 | 2019-12-08T00:34:03 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] The Hero, Villain, and Princess have all gotten tired of the endless cycle of kidnap and rescue. So in order to settle things once and for all, they get together and talk it out like reasonable adults. | "Seriously?" barked Hive the Lightbringer. "That's all you want?"
Princess Nina crossed her arms, suspicion lifting her brow.
Gayle the Tormentor raised her hands defensively. "What makes you think I can afford designer dresses? Come on. Diamonds beads on the lining of a dress? Fabric handsewn for hundreds of hours? You're easy to kidnap but hard to hold thanks to this one." She nodded at Hive. "But I've racked up enough evening wear for a couple weeks of outings. I just want a few more."
"You're telling me," said Nina, "that those drab dresses you hoisted on me weren't to embarrass me?"
"Not at all."
"And every time you kidnapped me, it wasn't me you wanted. It was my dresses?"
"Right."
Nina tapped her foot, studying the year-long thorn in her side.
"My princess," shouted Hive. "You cannot be considering this. To deign to grant such an insidious woman with such beauty is a sin in itself! There must be another way."
Nina gestured him to silence. "You may love the thrill of a rescue, but I'm tired of visiting dingy dungeon and wearing dirty clothes. Gayle, you have yourself a deal. Every month you'll have your pick of any dress from my wardrobe. In return, you'll teach my guards some semblance of the meaning of protection."
"Deal." Gayle stepped forward, shook the Princess's hand.
Hive frowned. When he suggested this meeting, he never expected them to actually reach a deal. It was supposed to be another mark of his heroism, a willingness to try all in the pursuit of good. Now who was he going to rescue? Duchesses? Countesses? How paltry; his fame demanded more. But then an idea: notoriety was another side of the same coin. After all, it had worked out well for Gayle.
"Congratulations," said Hive, already plotting his first crime. "This is the beginning of a new era."
---------------------------------------
read more at /r/wiselywrittenwords | “So why do you keep on kidnapping me?” A woman in some expensive jeans and shortsleeved shirt asked the large draconic figure.
“A feud with your father. He thought it was a good idea to push back the boundaries and, honestly, you were a last resort.” It waved a claw to a map on the wall.
“So you’re saying that you were basically provoked then?” A man in slightly burnt riot armor questioned.
“The king was being unreasonable. He was going to start a war if someone didn’t do anything.”
“So my father is the real one behind this?”
“Quite so.”
“And the records were cleared of diplomatic attempts?”
“As it seems.”
“And none of us decided to just talk?”
“We were all guilty on that. Me, for the most part.”
—— read more stories at r/GlacioWrites | 2021-11-10T12:28:47 | 2021-11-10T11:09:26 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You're not a superhero. You're not some crazed vigilante. You don't have any training or fancy tools. You're just the guy who got pushed a little too far and now it's time to push back. | They called me “Potentate”. They say I’m tall, muscular, terrifying, all-powerful. Only one of these is true.
Honest to god, I’m nothing. All I am is tall. Right now I’m ranked one of the most powerful superheroes in the world, but I don’t have powers. Im not a vigilante with spirit either. I don’t have any gadgets, but I’m always in the aftermath of some fight. Monsters and demons wreak havoc and blow a chunk out of the city, either they blow themselves up or more stable heroes run in to stop them. I’m always there, walking my dog, buying pizza, and the people assume I killed it.
Heroes and villains took notice and all want me to join them, but I have a rep from mistaken identity. Monsters have begun to wet themselves from the sight of me. Maniacs that could easily kill Plutonian heroes with a thought crumble into jelly when I speak.
I had a bad encounter with some random monster, and my head should be rolling off my shoulders but The Arachnid rescued me that day. I expected him to call me out, but he just said we all make mistakes, that I’m respected and feared by every superhuman in the city and offered me a place at the National Association of Super Humans, or NASH.
I only took it out of greed. But I also do good work. I can simply walk into a robbery and the crooks will turn themselves in just to not anger me. And if my presence isn’t enough I can make contact. They’re too afraid to stop me, imagine Satan himself stroking your shoulder and staring at you, I’ve stopped a terrorist in her tracks with that. It’s good being a hero…
But man, if this isn’t stressful as hell… | I’ve had it, I’ve absolutely had it. I have tried to live my life out of the way, where I won’t bother anybody. I just don’t get along with people very well. So I moved out of the city, got away from it all. I take my pleasure in long walks through the forests, the songs of the birds, and the majestic views. But even here, I can’t just enjoy my simple life.
So I sit down at my desk and begin to type.
“The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race…” | 2021-06-11T10:51:40 | 2021-06-11T10:29:25 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] "It's just a coincidence!" The merchant exclaimed when confronted by an adventurer. "How is it just "coincidence" when I see you almost everywhere?! Even the random fucking peddler in the nine goddamn hells looked like you!" | My sisters were given the same dusty blue gown on our twenty-third birthday. All of us. That's also the year we stop aging.
It's an old curse, one bestowed upon our father when he refused to give up his lucrative merchant position to help an old fairy reclaim the home that she'd been kicked out of. A lumber mill had taken up residence in her grove and my father had actually, through some network of connections, been responsible for it. Foolish man thought she was asking him to take up the mantle of hero when all she wanted was him to move the mill a mile south.
"I'd rather keep my position as a merchant," he'd said. "Helping folk, I mean, I can do that as a businessman."
"So you can," she'd said, dramatically casting off her grubby robes to reveal her true form. "And so too shall your descendants. Each will be the mirror of the other and all shall live solely as merchants, scattered throughout the realm, destined to only ever provide goods for those heroes noble enough to take up the call."
It's not a bad job.
Not all of my sisters enjoy it, but I think the ones stationed in riskier locations have an understandable plight. Sera stands, idly bobbing on her feet outside Graktheir, the Lord of Undeath's fortress. She's got a series of smiting scrolls and a handful of arrows dipped in holy water. For the right guy, she also has a blessed mace. For the slightly sketchier but still well-meaning guy, she has a scroll of summon skeleton.
Whatever gets the job done. She's not picky. Graktheir comes back every few years, so she maintains her post, helping out adventurers who go in every month or so to clean out the zombies and helping out heroes to go to slay the necromancer himself.
Ocrea hums a bored tune just on the inside of the Nine Damned Hells. She's got the standard holy water arrows and a few holy flame swords. Also has some gorgeous helmets, blessed to deflect the seductive eyes of the succubi that roam that realm.
Ironically, she's friends with Ishlanti, one of the newer succubi in that realm. The two often get lunch together when the portal is inactive. Ocrea complained a lot more before her friendship with Ishlanti formed. Now they both seem quite happy.
There's a damp cave six miles under the ocean, accessible only by a very special, very rare, one-of-a-kind piece of armor that sailors keep getting their hands on. Good for Beatrice, who gets lonely fast. The cave creates a pocket of air, so she's not always soaking but she often complains that the damp air is bad for her hair. Part of the curse says she needs to keep it down in the same, soft, unassuming waves as the rest of us, so she whines about that a lot too.
Potions of water breathing are her specialty, which does allow her some freedom to travel about. Unfortunately, there aren't really any closeby aquatic cities that low, so she stays lonely. And her ability to talk to adventurers is usually pretty limited to a crack about her wares and an unsubstantiated rumor. Her rumors are usually the best cause she has so much time to come up with them.
Probably the luckiest of the lot is Welle, who lives in the High Kingdom's capital city of Captial City. She lives in the castle, just off the great hall, where a great many feasts and fights have occurred over the years. Welle has seen them all. Armed a good number of people going in there as well, though she also has quite the selection of meads and other goods, perfect for bribing or seducing nobles. She has seen it all and is, much to the envy of the rest of us, been invited to a *ton* of feasts and dinners and banquets and coronations. No one seems to suspect that she's been doing this for twenty-six years now. That's part of the curse.
My station is in the loftiest tree of the Elden Cohort, a loosely aligned series of Elden tribes. I wouldn't trade my home for all the feasts or excitement or friendly succubi in the world. I can see everything up here in the tree. My home is decorated with birch wood and spun silver.
I have troves and troves of potions and herbs and components to craft alchemy. Arrows and spears as well, those being the chosen weapons of the Elden. I have more animal friends than I do friends who actually speak, but I don't mind that. I always leaned towards the quiet side.
The heroes that make it up here are usually very respectful, as you have to be, in order to make it this high up. The Elden are sticklers for rules and etiquette. So I only get to chat with the best. Again, it's usually just a rumor, some haggling, idle banter, but I always get to hear a few words about what's going on in the rest of the realm.
I also am in charge of the enchanted animals that deliver messages from my other sisters. They fly in an update from each sister, every month, and at the end of the month, I draft it all into one letter and send a copy out to each woman. It's nice, actually seeing the words written in each of their handwritings. Everyone else just gets to see mine, so it's something special.
Our lives were peaceful, even for those who lived on the outskirts of perpetual battlegrounds. It was routine. It was consistent. It was safe.
Nothing ever threatened it until I got word that our father had died. That was a sad day indeed, as it meant no new sisters would join our ranks. The man himself had not been a terribly pleasant man and had little concern for the daughters of his that spread across the land.
Still, we were offered a chance to leave our posts and mourn him. I handled the letters flying in fast and furious as each one of us scrambled to find a date when they could take some time off. I had to keep a schedule of all the battles and prophecies and weddings and royal births in an attempt to find a free week that worked for everyone.
Finally, I found a good contender, one that worked for everyone except Milly.
Actually, the most I looked into it, the more I realized, I hadn't heard from Milly at all.
Milly worked in the midst of the Black Woods, a much less idyllic forest than the one I perched in. She was one of the younger ones, newer to her position, but very enthusiastic and very sweet.
And usually very communicative. She'd never gone quiet like this.
I stared at the letter I'd been in the midst of compiling as I pondered over Milly's silence. My gut said something had happened to her. But were we to abandon our posts, who knows what might happen? Then again, we did have the grace to leave, to mourn our father.
Perhaps... perhaps there was a loophole to be found here. For Milly. She deserved it if any of us did.
I balled up the parchment and threw it to the side. Time to compose a new letter.
*My dearest sisters,*
*I fear something terrible has happened...*
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | # How to Break a Siege of Legends
(Book 2, Part 4: How to Tell that They Can't Help)
(Note: How to Break a Siege of Legends is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Space was big.** Really, mind-numbingly, brain-breakingly big. So utterly, fantastically big that the odds of meeting someone in the middle of that vast emptiness by sheer coincidence were less than the odds of Lien Arturo seeing his husband again.
And yet, that same cheerful merchant who had been haunting Lien on and off for twenty years had somehow found them in the empty reaches of interplanetary space.
"How in God's gelatinous green giblets did you *find* us out here?" Lien Arturo shouted over the comms. "The last time I saw you was in *Hell*! We're not even in the same dimension as last time! And where did you get a spaceship from?!"
"I'm Merchant. I buy and sell things," Merchant said, grinning cheekily in the flickering screen. "Would you like to peruse my wares?"
A paper inventory printed itself out from the ship's console; Eiko picked it up and turned it over curiously. Lien scowled and swiped it from her hands. "Don't bother. Merchant only ever sells basic healing items anyway. It's not worth our time, and we don't even have any money."
"I buy things too!" Merchant added.
"Healing items... Lien, we do sort of need—"
"Not. From. Him." Lien snapped at Eiko.
Eiko blinked. "Is there... something that I don't know?"
"Always," Lien muttered. That earned him a punch in the shoulder; he grinned at Eiko, and she grinned back. "Yeah, I deserved that. But... in this case specifically? This smarmy little worm has been popping up around me for my *entire* life in the psychosphere. He was there when I raided Hell and fought Bazmondilak the Grey. He was there when the Siege of Legends first broke out and I had to defend against an army that blotted out the horizons. He... he even popped up when I was alone in the woods, miles away from civilization and starving to death. And you know what he did *every single time*?" Lien spun towards the comms. "*NOTHING!* I fought in battles with thousands of lives on the line, when I could have used every available man, and he just sat there and offered *basic fucking healing potions*! We met outside the throne room of Bazmondilak the Grey, and I begged him to fight by my side; he just stared at me with that dopey little grin and said, 'I'm a Merchant. Merchants don't fight.' Even when the fate of the *world* was at stake. And when I was alone and starving... he didn't so much as give me a discount. I had to sell the clothes off my back to get him to cough up a sandwich." Lien glared at the Merchant, whose cheery grin had slipped just a little. "So no. We're not giving you any money, no matter what you're offering. In fact, you have twenty seconds to get the *hell* away from this ship before we blow you to a dozen pieces."
Eiko nudged Lien. "This is a transport ship," she said. "It doesn't have weapons."
"It has *me*." Lien glowered at the screen. "Ten seconds, now."
"Okay, okay, okay, fine, you got me! Can I at least *explain*?" The Merchant said. Something about the comms screen had glitched out; the Merchant still spoke, but his lips didn't move.
Lien clenched his jaw. "Five seconds." He held up a hand and began counting down.
"I wanted to help you but reality wouldn't let me!" the Merchant blurted out.
Lien stopped with one finger still upraised. "...What do you mean by that?"
"I..." The Merchant struggled to speak. "I'm... bound... by the universe, to play a certain role. The Merchant who always shows up right before the final battle to sell items that nobody wants, anyway. Do you know how much I *wanted* to help you? Do you think I *wanted* to leave the world's fate in your hands alone, all those times? I'm stuck in a role, Lien. I physically *cannot* do anything other than sell potions and look pretty and watch as heroes march to their deaths without me time and time again." The Merchant dry-washed his hands.
Lien frowned. "Then... how are you..."
"Talking to you now?" The Merchant smiled and held up a small device. "I told you, I'm a Merchant. I buy and sell things. One of those things was a smart speaker. Responds automatically to your questions without me doing anything but selling potions and looking pretty. Neat, huh?"
Lien and Eiko shared glances.
Finally, Lien sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were operating under those... constraints."
The Merchant's smile never wavered. "Water under the bridge."
"Wait." Eiko frowned. "If he's showing up *now*... does that mean that we're in for a boss fight as soon as we arrive?"
"I'm afraid so," the Merchant's voice said.
Lien pressed his lips together. "Then... I guess we'll need all the help we can get." He rummaged around in his pockets. "How much for two med-packs?"
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "How to Break a Siege of Legends" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mdh066/how_to_break_a_siege_of_legends_masterpost/) for the rest of the story. As always, I had fun writing this, I'm open to feedback and suggestions on how I can improve, and I hope you have a great day. | 2021-04-17T10:35:13 | 2021-04-17T10:32:57 | 107 | 69 |
[WP] You're a demon who has just possessed a human. You... didn't expect your host's life to be THIS shitty. And now you're feeling bad for them, and quite angry at the people in their life. | At first I thought it were a strip of blood, and I prided myself on having landed within such a vicious host. A fluorescent flicker and the static crackle of an old radio filled the stale air. Sweat so aged it ought almost have a name burned my host's nostrils. Soon. Soon I would have control. First I needed to adapt. To find the rhythm of his heartbeat. The patterns of his neural spikes. The pulse of his blood. And that was when I saw that it was not a sanguine snake curled before my host's eyes but ketchup. On toast. He was having dinner and it was ketchup on toast.
A knock at the door of his chamber. From the sound it was a foe. Dominant. Angered. Whatever stood behind that slab of wood it was hellbent on his destruction. That much I knew from experience.
"Connor! What took you so long? Were you jerking off or something?"
He appeared to be acquainted with this person. A woman, caked in paint and clad in a soft pastel suit.
"N-No Jessica. I answered almost as soon as you knocked at my door ..."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"Of course not! You are right. I was slow. I'm sorry."
"Hmph. That's better. Now, you better have a good explanation."
"For what?"
"My money, Connor. You haven't wired it over yet."
"He-he ... I just thought maybe you'd come over in person. I haven't seen you in a while. Sometimes it's like you're not even my girlfriend ..."
"Hand it over right now, or I'm never speaking to you again."
Pain. The connection had almost been completed, and I felt his pain as if it were my own. Not even after taking an arrow to an eye a thousand years earlier when a former host rode into battle had I felt such intense agony.
"Of course! I'll give it to you right away. D-Do you mind if it's a little less than normal? I sold some furniture but I still haven't got enough for rent and I'm worried that I might get kicked out of—"
"If it's less I'm leaving you."
Suffering. An aching soul, torn to mangled strands.
"H-Here! Take it all. I love you, Jessica. I would die if it weren't for you."
"You probably would, wouldn't you? I'm a saint for keeping up with you."
Just like that, she left.
Hunched in a corner, my host ate his ... dinner. He smiled at the battered radio as if it were an old friend.
Later, his landlord arrived and he confiscated the radio and even his refrigerator. "This should cover half of it," he'd said. "If you haven't got the rest tomorrow you're out."
It wasn't until he was huddled in a fetal position in the shower that I finally gained control. Power surged through his feeble body, and I worried the vessel wasn't adequate to contain it. Fortunately it did, though I was concerned it could be because it had become accustomed to being pushed beyond normal limits.
My original plan had been to sow chaos and terror among the hapless people of the city. But that could wait. First, I wanted to pay Jessica a little visit. | (TW: ABUSE, SUICIDE)
/ / / / / / /
The noose hang around his neck, as he gasped for air, the slicing of the rope all that saved him. I had chosen the moments before he had stood on the chair to enter him and take possession.
The burn marks, still fresh on his right wrist and left leg, throbbed as the nerves sang an agonising aria, a mission of misery and suffering. It was clear that this poor boy had very little left.
A rifling through his entire memory took only 2 minutes....and I thought that *Hell* was good at punishment. I saw the very first memory that this poor soul had, and I felt the flame burn, a bright fury building within my incorporeal soul.
I felt his psyche curl up, prepared for yet another barrage from this new and clearly powerful presence, but I curled what was left of my Angel wings around the lost boy, and prepared a plan of action.
/ / / / / /
The TV came on, and the news correspondent looked shaken.
"This is Angela Naismith, and I'm reporting live from this insignificant-seeming home in Church, Lancashire, where the full horror of what occurred has yet to be determined.
"All we have so far, is that there are fifteen sets of remains, and three people who will need a life time of support, due to...what was discovered here. It is safe to say that this will be a harrowing investigation, given the contents of this house."
"Needless to say, this will definitely be amongst the worst killers we have ever known I Britain, and possibly further beyond."
"Angela Naismith, ITV News."
/ / / / / /
I guided him through the process of making this house look genuinely horrific, and ensured that what was found would have a ring of authenticity.
I spent his sleeping hours working through his anger and his emotional responses, but even then, I could not guarantee his safety. So I laid other plans.... | 2021-12-12T05:48:06 | 2021-12-12T04:43:10 | 298 | 48 |
[WP] It‘s a normal afternoon on earth but then suddenly an entire fleet of imperial ships exit hyperspace and are now in earths orbit. How would the Earths governments react if those ships in the sky just stay there for days, weeks and maybe even months just doing nothing? | Everyone thought it was the end times.
Oh, sure. Some people would keep a brave face. The media, the governments, the military: they all wanted to make believe that this was first contact with a higher being. Soon we would be given the keys to peace, longevity, technology, and passage to the stars.
No one was fooled. Not really. You could have the news outlets screaming their predictions from every screen in the city, but the truth could be seen by every man woman and child who looked up and saw the alien spaceship flying by every ninety minutes.
It was a hammer in geosynchronous orbit.
We were the anvil.
I thought it would be over in hours. The space operas, sci-fi novels, and comics books always made it happen quickly. Surely, they would start issuing commands in some language, or firing lasers, or abducting hapless humans for vivisection. But they just sat there.
Days went by. Weeks. The U.S., Russia, and China sent probes, but the ship would not react. Scientists tried communicating with every band of radio and version of communication they could devise. An enterprising group of engineering grads even set up a laser array that displayed pictographs on the face of the moon.
Everyone who looked at that patrolling, alien craft was asking the same questions: What do you want from us? Why are you here? What comes next?
I thought I knew the answer. I'm sure many people had the same theory. The world was falling apart. Wars between brothers to fill the bank accounts of the greedy. Pollution that contaminated the oceans and air. Businesses that sold trivial luxuries that cost the planet entire species.
The aliens were our judge. They were just gathering data on our crimes so they could accurately pass judgement. Their gavel would fall, and the human race would be put to an end before we could spread our disease out to the stars.
The subject of destroying the spaceship was not a new one. Militaries had been planning for offensive measures from the moment it dropped into our planet's orbit. I was in a special battalion of marines that the pentagon had chosen for deep space recon. After the first week of silence, we were put through training in high g, low g, orbital flight, and vacuum combat. The lie was that we were going as a contact vessel to either board the spacecraft or breach it so that the aliens would be forced to give us attention.
The truth? I can't say, but we had a tactical nuke in the cargo hold.
We made our launch one hundred and thirteen days after the aliens first arrived. When I could see vessel up-close through the viewport, I knew we were out of our depth. It was a thing of angles, symmetry, and sophistication that could not be matched by humans. This would be no stealth mission. There was no way they didn't know we were coming.
I'm not proud of it, but I actually prayed that they would blow us out of the sky just so it could be over with.
The magnets latched onto the hull with surprising grace and we cut through with our breach tools. They felt awkward to handle in my spacesuit, but they worked well in the vacuum. One by one, we entered through the breach. I was the last one through because I was assigned with the reseal, so I was the last one to see the inside.
It was a grisly sight.
I don't think we will ever know what the invaders looked like because they had been reduced to atomic jelly. Thing that might have been bones littered the floor. Goo that was potentially organs were smashed against the walls. Fluids of a color that could only be described as 'wrong' floated through every open space.
The xenologists who studied the footage later determined that it must have been their propulsion system. An engine that could travel between the stars had to be moving at immeasurable speeds. When it suddenly appeared in our orbit, it was actually a sudden stop that threw a billion g's at every alien inside.
There will continue to be theories, but I think they were much like us. A sentient race of ambitious fools who needed a new planet but were too hasty in their calculations.
They say that they can salvage much of the ship. The technology within will advance us through decades of computation and medicine. The engine could even be reverse-engineered to allow humans to attempt interstellar flight.
It is exciting for humanity, but I hope that if we ever do leave this planet, we will have learned how to slow down. | The shadows loomed across the world. Even through the day, the ships could be seen clearly in the sky. The apocalypse had begun. Or so we had thought.
Missiles were launched at the ships to no avail. They were destroyed before even making a dent. But not return blasts ever came. We expected fire to rain from the sky, but it stayed as blue as the day it formed.
It was a few days at first. The media coverage was endless. The deep corners of the web spat out conspiracy theories of mad billionaires pranking the planet, or the ships intended for the wealthy to escape had secretly been launched. It was quite funny really, the hilarity that could ensue from reading some of these far fetched stories.
It wasn’t for months before a mission was finally sent to the looming ships. If I had to guess, it was preparation or logistics maybe, but it still seemed strange that it took so long. The event was even more popular than the moon event. The livestream was shared around the world.
Punters put bets on what we’d find. I chipped in a fiver for the fun of it. The world cheered as we worked together to solve the mystery.
The news broadcast switched to the astronauts feed. An almost noticeable hush fell across the world. No sounds were being made, not even the animals dared move.
The astronaut carefully cut his way inside. Darkness. His torch flared to life shining down the hall. Particles of dust floated lifelessly in the conical light beam. But, nothing else.
It wasn’t long before memes started appearing. Captions of “Me and all my friends”, “Guys my girlfriend goes to another school I swear,” and the sorts were blowing up within minutes.
But the slow walk continued. Each room, each hall, each corner and every wall. Nothing. It was clean but there was no life. No power. Nothing. A conundrum to say the least.
I switched off the feed and went back to my normal viewing pleasures of Netflix and other streaming services. I kept tabs on the exploration, but all the other ships were the same. Empty.
The astronauts must have been bored as one carelessly tore their suit on a table as they were looking. It was quickly duct taped up and no harm came to them, but the memes once again began. Though they were funny, it was hard to say whether it was fair to create an infamy on the internet for a simple mistake.
Eventually, the astronauts returned. I managed to triple my five dollars by betting on nothing being in the ships. That was a nice consolation for boredom at least.
So we all went on living. The ships weren’t moving, we found no way to move them and nothing was changing. It was the new norm.
Well, that was until news broke of the astronaut whose suit had ripped hadn’t been seen again. Authorities denied the allegations obviously, but they didn’t offer up any proof of their whereabouts either. It was a black zone on the mission.
Slowly, more disappearances cropped up. People known to have been helping on the mission were missing. As were some of their friends and family members too.
The authorities continued neglecting responsibility. They assured us nothing was wrong. There were no issues. But could that be believed? | 2022-04-26T07:33:30 | 2022-04-26T07:04:21 | 95 | 32 |
[WP] You are a witch who offers couples deals in return for their first born child. You run an orphanage full of children freed from their would-be parents irresponsible enough to make a deal with a witch in the woods |
The townsfolk for miles around had always called what the old witch was doing dark magic. I mean, for what other purpose would she be collecting children in the shadows of the dark forest.
In all honesty, she preferred the rumors. After all the parents who offered up their children to a witch practicing dark magic were the parents she was trying to save children from in the first place.
Agnes however, knew nothing of dark magic. In fact, she knew no magic at all. Luckily, using some basic chemistry, the aid of the 40 children who lived in her orphanage, and just a smidge of opportune timing, she was able to exploit the superstitions and general lack of intelligence of the townsfolk to keep the rumors of “dark magic” flowing steadily.
At this point her and the children had their routine down perfectly: wild cackles seemingly coming from everywhere, combustion reactions perfectly in time with a few theatrical gestures, and ,like any decent parental figure should, she allowed the children some creative license as well. All in all, they all quite enjoyed themselves during these productions.
She and the children had performed so many of these “sacrifices” as the townsfolk called them, that when the cloaked figure holding the swaddled-up babe began his own wild cackling after the latest explosion, Agnes found herself momentarily caught in a stunned silence.
“Truly marvelous, M’Lady!” the cloaked figure said during a momentary lapse in his laughter.
“Yes, yes,” muttered Agnes, trying to regain control of the situation. “The dark arts are as marvelous as they are dangerous, traveller, but I’m afraid I haven’t time to discuss things beyond your understanding. What do you seek in return for the babe?”
The man hardly seemed interested in Agnes’ words; his eyes continuously scanning the woods surrounding the clearing where they stood.
“I fear that we’re not alone Madam witch,” said the man with absolutely no fear. “No matter. No fool would dare ambush a powerful mage of chaos such as yourself. Now… where were we? Ah yes, our deal.”
Silence replaced the cackles and rustling undergrowth the children typically created. Clearly they felt the same uneasiness that had filled Agnes the moment the man laughed where others typically cowered.
“Yes, our deal. What exactly is it you’d like? Perhaps an enemy struck down. Ah, or maybe power beyond your wildest dreams.” Agnes ventured carefully.
The man dismissed these suggestions with a simple wave of his hand. “Oh no, nothing of the sort. In fact I want something much simpler.”
“And what then is the desire of such a humble man?”
“I want in.”
Clearly the look on Agnes’ face betrayed her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”
“I think you do Agnes. I want in on this little operation you’re running. Saving children from their moronic, good-for-nothing parents. I mean it’s amazing. The theatrics of it all!”
“Um, thank you” said Agnes with a great deal of uncertainty. She was however, certain that the charade was up. She abandoned her hunched posture and the gravelly, ghoulish voice she used. “But I’m not entirely sure what you mean by ‘you want in’.”
“No, no thank you,” said the man with a grin that spread from ear to ear. “You see, I myself was the child of idiotic parents, but as my village had no witch to sacrifice children to, they simply abandoned me. More trouble than they needed, they said. So you see, I’m here to help you expand, Agnes! We can have witches saving children in every forest from here to the coast! Orphanages rescuing children from abandonment. Teaching them to understand science and truth rather than superstitious nonsense. Just imagine it Agnes, a whole generation saved by some theatrics and just a little magic.”
Would love any feedback and critiques you guys have!
Thanks for reading! | As the bramble slipped off my shoulders and teailed down my arms it became soft and silky. Slowly it twisted and wove into itself as the little being in my hands was carefully swaddled in the deep green and black cloth. My hands, ones that had appeared long-fingered and boil-riddled, started to flake and shed the transfiguration until gentle hands with henna-like tattoos were revealed as I carefully adjusted the swaddling cloth.
The hut around me creaked and popped as the rotting ramshackle walls of branches and thatch flattened and merged together. Soon they formed walks of closely fit and lacquered boards. The fire pit and cauldron with ominous brew had become a regular kitchenette and fridge. The floor with the effigies and fetishes for hexes? Now a cradle with a chair beside it. I placed the child, a little boy, within the crib where a little tune started to play.
I removed the mask from my face that had given me the look of some vile hag, and could see my face reflected on the stainless steel of the fridge. I looked well into my fifties now, wrinkles starting to show, hair begining to silver, not bad for just turning 600.
*Master, is the ritual finished?* A voice called out to my mind. Young, slightly timid, but the girl that was my apprentice had no lack of talent when it came to children and magic.
"Come in," I called out, my throat hoarse from the voice I had been cackling and speaking with.
In walked a girl in jeans and a sweatshirt with a bottle already prepared for the baby. Her hair was in a ponytail having just woke up not a few minutes before. The rituals people used these days were always at night it seemed.
"Oh my, he's just such a handsome little man," She whispered as she lifted the child up to feed him. "What did they ask for this time?"
I paused before answering. Did I explain the loathing and discontent the parents had towards the child? The sense of irritating burden they viewed the child as?
"They claimed they were too poor to raise the child. Asked for prosperity," So of course I took the child. No child no burden right? Outside of the hospital fees and all that I was going to make sure they couldn't weasel out of. Oh and the visit from the police and DHS when the child 'mysteriously vanished'.
"But it's okay now, you'll have all the brothers and sisters you'll ever want. And no shortage of love, I know for sure," My apprentice coo'ed to the child. And for a moment, I remembered when I first held her like that, with my master watching me. | 2020-01-14T13:39:59 | 2020-01-14T12:04:51 | 69 | 49 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | Another year of hunger and war past, and another year of more of the same..
...Or so I thought.
"It's almost there!" Allison squealed with delight, almost knocking over the monitor. I sighed and turned back to the screen. The number read 9,999,987,573 and was rising rapidly.
"Plus a hundred and twelve, and minus nineteen every second..." I muttered angrily under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Every second, about one hundred and twelve people are born, and about nineteen die." I said to her, "That rounds out to about ninety three additional people on this earth every second." Allison grinned ear to ear.
"I know! It's awesome isn't it?!"
"No it's not." I explained, "This world is practically out of everything. Oil, food, and land... not to mention patience." Allison just stared at me as if I had three heads. I shook my head. "Don't you get it? That number is why there is so much famine in the world! It's why the US is at war with six countries right now. SIX!" Allison opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then opened it again.
"But more life is a good thing isn't it? Why do you always have to be so cynical?!"
"Because more people just means more people who will suffer Ally! Our parents are both literally Senators! We couldn't have gotten a luckier draw unless we were born to the queen of England! We don't see the hurt that goes on outside the borders." Allison crossed her arms, torn between two perspectives of life.
"Can't we at least enjoy this moment first, then get on to the cake?" Cake... that's right. Today was my birthday as well. Not as if it was anything special though. There were a hundred and twelve more that I had to share it with every second.
"Ally..." I started, but she cut me off with a finger to my lips.
"SHHHH!" She hissed, "It's almost there!" Scornful though I was at the number, I couldn't bring myself to look away.
...9,999,999,063.
...9,999,999,574.
...9,999,999,836.
...2.
I blinked. It took a second to realize what had changed, and once I realized what it was, the number began to hold real fear for me. It was the cheering in the other room and from outside the window.
It had gone silent.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind at once, but there were only three that mattered at the moment.
First, was the silence. The news announcer in the other tab I had open had stopped mid sentence. The cheering that had built up to a roar, muffled by my sound-proof door had ceased in an instant.
Second was what the number meant. The tally was based on the number of brainwaves that matched that of a human's, coordinated and censused by an array of satellites launched in 2022'. That meant that either there was a massive malfunction on a global scale... or there were only two living breathing humans left on earth.
And the third... I shut my eyes tight. There was one more thought that would determine my entire future. If I was still here... and there were two... that meant...
I resisted the urge to peek to my side. It didn't matter anyway though. I could hear her breathing, I was just choosing to ignore it. Eventually, Allison spoke up.
"Jack? It's just a glitch right?" Her tone got progressively more desperate the longer I was silent, "Please tell me it was a glitch."
I turned and looked at her, slowly shaking my head. Her eyes grew wide.
The third thought that I had... was the realization that Allison, my best friend for almost my whole life... the only other remaining person on earth besides myself... was also my first cousin.
~Amond P. Hawes-Khalifa | My eyes were fixated on the screen. My hands were preoccupied with a tub of ice cream in my lap and a metal spoon in the tub.
I finally got the perfect recipe for a birthday this year. Cheering to a milestone in humanity and having the freedom to do whatever I want is the dream. Nothing beat that.
The number onscreen was 9,999,999,997. That was the current human population. Gone are the days of lavish vastness and excess. These days, we are all about optimised efficiency.
The last number ticked to an 8 and I celebrated with another mouthful of vanilla goodness. Today was my day, I feel like I could conquer the world.
And it ticked to a 9. I was no longer wiping the streaming sweetness off my chin. I would not miss this for the world. It's my 30th, my miracle after all.
I almost forgot to blink until my eyes were about to tear. And when I did, I could not immediately comprehend what it meant.
The screen said 2. Not 9,999,999,992. Just 2.
What a downer, a glitch in the world population website that was supported by the governments and kings of the world.
I went on my go-to forum to rant, expecting it to have exploded in my extended reaction time. When I understood that was not the case, I quickly made a meme that said, "10 billion of us and we can't count" before changing it to, "I can count higher than 2, but yes that's how many of us there are."
And I posted, patted myself on the back with other mouthful of ice-cream. And refresh. Mouthful of goodness. Refresh.
The post was served and getting cold untouched. And not just that, there weren't any new posts.
Was there something I was missing?
The website still showed 2. It didn't get taken down.
Someone knocked on the door of my apartment. *Who even did that these days?*
But I got up with a groan, and opened the door to a ravishing beauty.
"Really? A fat man? I thought this was going to be an Adam and Eve kind of situation. It's just us two left in the world now, you know?" She rolled her eyes.
It took me an extended moment to retrieve my jaw. But when I did, I grinned. "I can repopulate the world with you all night long, babe."
She gave me a murderous glare and I laughed. It was turning out to be the best birthday in quite a few years.
"Why don't you come in and we figure this thing out?"
---
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*Edits: typo* | 2017-02-28T20:31:22 | 2017-02-28T16:49:13 | 1,962 | 66 |
[WP] You are a powerful sorcerer, who requires the blood of your servants to cast your spells. You've recently discovered they have been using theater tricks to avoid injury and have substituted your ingredients with common household items... but your spells have been stronger than ever. | "Red wine, you say?", I asked the boy.
Marv is the newest of my servants, and the only one who had the balls to face me when I discovered their tricks. It's probably because he didn't know how badly I tend to lose my temper, unlike the others.
But I wasn't mad. I was perplexed. A bit amused even. This mixture of red wine and some ground herbs was really an effective agent. There was no doubt that my spells were much more powerful using this concoction than my faithful servants blood.
"Yes sir. Well sir, you see, we didn't come up with the idea ourselves. We didn't know what to do when you asked for Phineas' blood. He's suffering from a peculiar malady since last week and we didn't want his blood cause any unforeseen effects on your work. And the rest of us are too tired to give anymore blood after the fight with the royal guards. We were pondering over what to do at Helga's tavern when we met her. "
" Who's her?"
" The Silver Paladin, sir!"
Emily! I knew she had something to do with this. She was a fellow student at the mage's academy with me. Before she found out how they did the magic. And then burned the school down. And then joined the Order of the Star. And then massacred all of them when she found out that those old men weren't any better. She had visited me two weeks ago but that's a tale for some other time. Long story short, she asked for something and I threw her out.
"So she overheard you and offered a solution, I'm guessing."
It was all too convenient . And I can bet my entire fortune that she was the cause behind Phineas' 'malady' too.
"Yes sir! Please forgive us, we didn't know what to do." Marv said.
I liked Marv. He's a respectful boy and his heart's in the right place.
"That's quite alright. You may go now"
As Marv bowed and left me alone in my chambers, I went to my table. As I eyed the red concoction filled in a gold decanter, a sudden clanging of metal alerted my senses and I turned around, startled. It was Emily, clad in shining armour. I didn't even bother guessing how she entered the tower. She was always a gifted shapeshifter. The raven is her specialty
"It's really effective isn't it?", the Silver Paladin asked.
I faced Emily to say something but nothing could come out of my mouth. Honestly what I needed to do was apologize for how I acted a fortnight ago when she came asking for my help.
"Emily, I'd like to apolo-"
"No apologies necessary, Nicolas." She interjected.
"But I hurled you out of my castle with a hurricane!"
"Well I did ask you to join me in exterminating the Mages guild. See Nic, I've always respected you. You always tried to keep your familiars alive when spellcasting and that is something I find rather admirable. Makes you a piss poor magician though but that won't be the case anymore. " She said, while picking up the decanter.
" Nic, this concoction is not a secret. I found the recipe buried deep in the Grand Archives. I went to the council of mages and they all knew about it. "
Suddenly I realized why she wanted my help. "They tried to silence you, didn't they?"
"Silence isn't the word I'd use, how about murder? And no, they don't want the recipe to be known. They're going stick to the old ways. Keeping lesser magicians as familiars, free supply of slaves from the King for experiments, endless supply of blood while keeping the masses indentured to them in exchange for serving the crowns interests. The Order was in on it too. That's why I ended it. And now it's time to end the guild too. Please, I need your assistance. "
" Why do you need my help, Em? "
" Ending the guild won't be easy. It'll take a war. I need you to rally the other wizards since they won't trust me anymore. Plus you're very creative in your spell casting. With this concoction, you'll be able to use the those spells you've written down in your notebook now. "
" You've read my notebook? ". I was truly surprised. Inside it was a collection of spells I had thought up when I was in the academy. When I was a naive young boy seeking to help others. Before I found out about the truth of magic.
" Everyone has read your notebook! You always left it lying around in class. Honestly that's why we all liked you, Nic. You've an affinity for white magic. That's something rare these days. "
I didn't know what to say. All this was a lot to take in for one day. Emily understood that and we fell into a contemplative silence.
Unfortunately that didn't last too long. The skies outside started turning green. The guild was coming. Emily noticed it too.
"What is it Nic, will you help me, or will you hand me over to them?" she asked, with a hint of apprehension escaping into her voice that she tried to suppress.
Honestly, I didn't know what to do. Siding with Emily means saying goodbye to the life I have now, possibly forever. But I can't hand her over to the old geezers now. Everything has changed. Magic without a blood sacrifice. It will change the world.
"Marv, gather the others and make me more of this concoction!" I shouted, magnifying my voice.
A loud "Yes Sir! " resonated from downstairs as I turned to Emily.
"Please hand me my notebook from the table, Em. I'll show you how to turn some wizards into a bucket of paint."
| Day 47
I have begun the exaction of the Tetronic plates upon the Melate Fault. By applying Enara's vitum to the scale model my next ritual site has been marked. I shall take Jareth and Bondir with me for his performance. The scripts advise that virile blood creates the best boundaries for what we are attempting. Tomorrow shall be a long trek to the barge that will carry us to the site. I expect to travel nine days in all.
\[the designs are of a basic band with intricate scrawling within The design within the band seems to look like a map more than any occult iconography\]
We are the best part of 2 moons into this research of golemancy and the staff couldn't be more supportive, while I presume this might be due to the fact that I have not had to cast much as we are broaching a new classification of magic making a lot of it theoretical \- which restricts their injuries to needle scratches. Tell people they are making history and they laugh, give them a biscuit and a blanket and they will sing your praises.
I must pack now, forceps, compasses and weights \- glasses, ritual blades and powders, not mentioning my standard bulk of trinkets. The duties we pay to our craft.
Day 50
We have traveled well and are onboard the barge, Jareth and Bondir have had an up\-turn in their spirits, including me in their storytelling and games. My master taught me that keeping your mind clear is one of the most important skills in the entire existence \- it is said to improve productivity and morale. The evening brought with it alcohol and when pressed by my servants and the crew I shared the following:
*I began my apprenticeship as a servant, much as you are now. I chose to study rather than being picked. Taught myself to read at the age of 11, and to cast minor tricks with animal blood by 14. No one kidnapped me into the life; asked my parents to sell me so that they could eat during a bad winter. Put away those faces, pity is not the aim; after all its common knowledge. You lads are more than cattle to me, regardless of what you think. I chose you both because you worked hard in the Hamlet and I thought you had a shot at something more, in a year your servitude shall be at its end and your pay shall free you to settle anywhere in this world. I am no Andil of Marris. Your lives are precious to me. Every performance is carefully planned out and on full display.*
*Andil of Marris? He was the Arch Magister of the blood sorcerors. To you common people he is probably not known, but his atrocities are: Dianal, Odar and Kankalin. And Don't forget Folchant. I was the kindling for the fire of Folchant. A city turned to ash in one day. The order of Wyld sorcerors, destroyed in four short hours. The cost? three pints of my blood...*
They wished to hear no more of my rambling and guilt and bade me to bed. the boat's berth held me well. Probably for the best. We are making good time, and today I can plan out the basic trimmings to add to the performance.
Day 63
I have been betrayed. Jareth and Bondir had me use berry water and flour. My tools have been replaced with nothing but quack trappings: confetti \- fireworks and a stage knife. I realised too late. My parlance with the fault had already begun so I continued to the pointless conclusion. I closed with my own blood \- a taboo and a sign of failure\- but anything is better than letting this go rampant to be claimed by any fool whose friend trips around here. Upon our return they will both know my fury. Embarassment does not begin to describe it. With this failure I can no longer access the Fault ruining any chances of me developing Golemancy on this continent.
\[The rest of this book was torn off, leaving this as the only whole part. A small fragment was found by an individual in the next city, crumped and barely legible\]
Day 64
Something has awoken\- The Fault trembles, and so does my body. Something occured in that circle. Had I misjudged the situation. Was blood the channel to direct the power rather than the source? Something has awoken. It is not artificial and it is not a golem. I hear it in my ear and head. With a mere farce I have awoken the primordial. and it is I now. There is rage and it is mine and its and we are I. THE WORLD HAS RESTED LONG ENOUGH. | 2018-05-13T10:50:43 | 2018-05-13T10:43:02 | 153 | 36 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Brian pushed me against the wall, laughing his sickening cackle. He turned to his minions, who have the collective iq of a potato (though at least a potato can power a lightbulb).
"How much you wanna bet that dumbass doesn't have powers?" As numbers flooded the air with how much these damn rich kids were willing to bet, my anger grew. "If I don't have powers than why do I have a mark?" I asked with clear irritation bubbling in my voice.
"Then prove it. Prove you have powers!" He grinned wickedly at me. For years now I've been told never to use my powers. With such a unique mark, anything could happen. I was also kind of afraid it just meant that I would blow bubbles out of my nose, or hit a ball extra far. "I can't." I backed down in an attempt to stop the fight so no one would get hurt.
"It's easy! Watch!" As his eyes narrowed, the imprinted eye on his forehead started to glow a bright red. I stared at it. Wrong move.
Suddenly I was falling deeper and deeper into an endless black night. My mother's voice echoed throughout the lonely pit. "James, wrap your arm. Don't show them the circle." "You can't use it James. We don't know what it will do." "Dr. Monroe, isn't there any way to change it?"
"Enough!" I shouted. I was standing back in the cold, dimly lit school hallway. I hadn't even moved. "You want to see what I can do? Fine."
I unwrapped my arm, taking in the satisfying peal of the bandage coming off of my mark. Most of my energy was gone, sucked away by the attack, but it was enough. I focused on moving my chi into the spot. The circle. The bane of my existence.
The spot radiated a dark blue from the edges. Yellow lightning was the only thing preventing the ocean of magical energy from consuming the hall. Suddenly the lights went out, including the light from my arm.
"Ooh. Great power. Now we don't have to stand up to turn the lights on." Brian laughed. But I knew it wasn't over.
As the ignoramus bullies stood, mocking me in their clique, sparks appeared around my feet. They slowly crawled up Tomy knees, hips, ribs, arms, and head.
No one spoke.
A water puddle formed beneath me, and I knew exactly what to do. I raised my arms, and the water level grew. I could control it. I swooped my arms to the side, sending a massive wave towards my opponents. Again and again I hit them with no time to breath in between.
When I finally calmed down, I looked at the damage. The lights had come back on, and the water retreated into the ground. I stared at the boys cold, lifeless bodies. Silently, I grabbed my bandage, wrapped it around my arm, and walked away.
The circle. The human storm. | I dont know how many of you are interested in biology, and i dont know how many of you know how a human fetus developes inside the womb. But we all start as a circle, a ring if you will.
Andrew was this dude at my school, who was probably the most popular kid, had one of the coolest powers (basically he was johnny the flame), was incredibly good looking and decided to use his free time in school to bully me. Also he didn't know how a fetus develops.
You are probably wondering why I keep bringing this up, and I can understand that it might confuse or annoy you. But believe me when I say it is important.
It was the first day of school after summer break and I decided to no longer play their game. The last five years have been hell and I was tired of it. I decided that this year would be different. The thing is, my power was not very cool, or fancy, but very effective, harmful and very gross. That's why I was never allowed to use it, after my parents found out what it was.
Anyway, walking in on the first day of school, I knew what was coming. Andrew approached me, wanted to do the same old routine of pouring chocolate milk in my school bag, punching me, putting trash in my locker, but this time he didn't really have a chance to do that. He started to talk: "Hey loser, did you miss-" his sentence ruptured.
But his sentence was not the only thing that ruptured.
If you remember what I told you in the beginning, you probably know what comes next. The first thing that develops on a human fetus is the anus, and fighting or doing basically anything with a ruptured sphincter is hard.
The last thing I enjoyed before I got suspended from school, is Andrews walk of shame to the toilet, while feces was running down his pants. Worth it. | 2020-02-26T09:22:10 | 2020-02-26T09:05:57 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] "You may have one wish granted." "I want all my debts cleared." "How much do you owe?" "You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." | Slowly, as if she could not believe it, the Queen reached for the infant she was offered. As soon as her pale hands touched the child, she snatched him from the knight’s arms and held him against her chest like the most precious of treasures. Then, with a voice as soft as the wind and clear as a glass bell, she addressed the knight.
“For your aid to the court, and the hardship you went through to save this kingdom, I’ll grant one of your wish. What do you wish for, mortal?”
The knight thought of all the thing she could ask for, and knew none would be denied to her. She could ask for riches, an ever-lasting life, beauty to rivalize the Queen, even to join the court as one of their own. No boon would be beyond the Queen’s powers.
But she was allowed only one payment for the debt the Seelie court owed her. And, about debts…
“I wish for all my debts to be cleared.”
The Queen brushed glittering silver strands of hair from her fair face and looked at the knight with bemused golden eyes.
“From all the things you could be given, you choose money? How much do you owe, for this to be your wish?”
To the surprise of all, even herself, the knight chuckled. She crossed her arms over her armored chest and held her otherworldly stare with a smile.
“You misunderstood, my fair lady. My debts are not of money, but of soul.” She looked around the bejewelled throne, where stood the glittering silhouette of other faes. “A decade ago, I gave away my soul to the Devil for glory. My first born belongs to a wicked witch, in exchange of my armor, which nothing can pierce. I gave half of my life-time to the dwarves for the magical sword I wield, and own a great favor to the elven knight who trained me in swordfight. Debt after debt, I became a knight of great renown -and soon, payment will be due. I ask of you that I do not have to pay.”
This time, it wasn’t her but the Queen who laughed. Although her hilarity was just as gracious as the rest of her person, it was quite the strange sight to see her crying with laughter.
“How I wish you were one of my subject, my knight!” She finally gasped, breathless with humor. “Your clever mind would be quite at home in this court.”
Her wide smile was full of mischief as she graciously bowed her head in agreement. “Aye, mortal knight, I will grant your wish, but to one condition: show me a list of all of your creditors, so I can know how many of my neighbors I am about to annoy in just one little wish.” | "Whatever you desire shall be done." It replied. "You must be specific. What do you owe?"
The man crossed his arms and looked down toward the ground in front of the large pot that the creature's smoky form emanated from.
"Promises. I have made many promises I now realize I can not keep. I've made good on some, but try as I may, I seem to have hit a wall."
"One wish mortal. Your race's laws are filled with loopholes, but you will find none here. You can't squirrel away a hundred wishes under the guise of one."
"It's all the same promise." The man said as he unfolded his arms. "I've promised to kill everyone on this list." He raised his hand toward the creature and a scroll filled with names running the length of half his body unfurled. Many of the names had been crossed out in red ink.
Smoke rushed from the pot and enveloped the parchment, bringing it close to the glowing orange eyes of the thing from inside the pot.
"Thirty lives in exchange for your death? You hate these people so badly you would die just to see their lives destroyed?" The thing asked.
"No, you've got it wrong. You're right, I hate them beyond description. But it's not thirty for one. It's just thirty."
"I see" the thing said. "As you request!"
| 2016-11-19T04:42:22 | 2016-11-19T01:39:09 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] Scientists find a suspended animation chamber with a human occupant in the Arctic. After reviving they realize the person is ancient. After learning a modern language the ancient explains that they are disappointed to see how much humanity has regressed technologically. | The ancient was incredible, its body had somehow survived being frozen and then thawed. Once it had awoken it had listened to them talk then repeated the words, over the course of a day it rapidly learned English.
Before they could fully communicate they offered him food and drink. He spat out the water they gave him and refused the food after smelling it. Because of his scientific value they couldn't risk him dying of dehydration; so a team was tasked with the mission of finding something his pallet would accept. They eventually found he would take Irish spring water had had been run through five different filters.
Once he had a rudimentary grasp of language it was quite easy to teach him the alphabet. Then he learned to read on his own in very little time. He then proceeded to read the entire oxford English dictionary in twenty minuets. Memorising each page with a two second glance. After the communication barrier was overcome It politely asked to be let outside.
Despite it being thirty degrees below zero he went outside without a coat. He even kicked off his shoes and stood barefoot on the arctic ice, somehow not even uncomfortable. For eight minuets he looked up at the nights sky then came back inside. "Twenty thousand years, give or take a little." He declared.
"Judging by the primitive nature of this structure and your appalling cuisine humanity has technologically regressed. likely after some catastrophe." He deduced. "You clearly haven't cured aging so you've not reached the self modification era. And the smell of carbon monoxide in the air tells me your still using hydrocarbon based fuel for energy."
"were actually at the tail end of fossil fuels. were phasing them out and replacing them with more advanced greener technology's."
"well that something. The words in your dictionary indicate you have reached the information age. However your methods of data collection, your sensors, are very ......" He gestured to the state of the art lab equipment trying to find the right word. "Antique."
The scientists, many of them Nobel prise winners didn't like being talked down to by what looked like a teenager. If it weren't for the fascinating inferences he was making they would have venomously defended their inventions.
"Your dictionary's unclear about the extent of your space capabilities. Have you reached other planets?"
"probes have."
"How has our terraforming on the second planet from the sun held up?" He asked. | (comedy attempt)
So what do you think? Now that you have had time to get a grasp on the modern world, how does it compare to the world from your time?
\-A fucking disgrace. Every McDonalds icecream this side of town is still BROKEN!
Wait. what? thats your takeaway from all this?
\-Listen motherfucker, why do you think I froze myself to begin with? I had hoped that by the time I thawed a couple aeons in the future, humanity would have figured out a foolproof way of keeping their icecream machines running, but instead I awake to the same bullshit!
Uh you do know that in most cases they're actually just lying so that they won't have to clean the icecream machine? So there were icecream machines in your time too? Incredible!
\-What the fuck! They were lying!?
Well yes... that is at least the common understanding. Athough I can understand that might be suprising considering that in your time, the icecream machines were all actually broken.
They we're actually broken right?
\*awkward scilence\*
Uhm... uh Are you allright?
\-Just put me back in the pod. | 2021-06-29T02:59:44 | 2021-06-29T01:45:32 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| The Humans are a strange species.
They found my people in ancient times, when the wheel and fire were still cutting edge technology. They built an station in orbit around our world, as was their way, and observed our development. They did not interfere with our development too much. When our home was threatened by an asteroid strike in ancient times, they destroyed it. When a supervolcano erupted and cast our world into volcanic winter, they descended from on high and cleaned our atmosphere.
We praised them as Gods for a time... Gods that came when we were in true need and helped us escape extinction. That was the only time they approached us directly. Their great ships landed where we preached of their glory... and they set us right. They told us that they were not gods... but were flesh and blood like us. They had learned how the world worked... and through doing so they had learned to control the world. Through their hard work and study... they had elevated themselves to the point where they worked *miracles* through their technology. They told us not to worship them... but instead to follow in their footsteps.
Our people... became very eager to join the Humans among the Stars. We wanted to be like them... powerful enough to bend the world towards our interests. As we grew more advanced... the Humans seemed to grow more distant. Disasters came without the Humans coming to fix them. We were confused by this, we were worried by this, and we were angry... until we figured out why the Humans did not intervene. It was because we were *able* to fix more of our problems ourselves. We came to understand, without being told, that the Humans did not want to rob us of the challenges that let us grow. Necessity is the mother of invention, and they did not want to take away the stress that we could deal with.
We went through the growing pains of a Sentient Species. Agriculture, Industrialization, Hate, Power-Hunger, and more... until the most dangerous came upon us. We discovered the Power of the Atom. The Humans did not intervene when first we used the weapons that were born of the Atom. Atomic Hellfire wiped a city out, and a war was ended. Nuclear Peace began... one as uneasy as the Nuclear Peace of human history. But... that also drove us to The Stars. The Missiles we made to deliver death across the world were also the key to breaking free of Gravity's iron-grip.
Our first mission was, of course, to reach the Human Research Station. We had a few failures along the way... a few people died... but we made it in the end. We docked with the station... and we met the Humans in person once more. They were so happy to see us having succeeded in getting past the first hurdle. They encouraged us to keep exploring, to keep *learning*... and to be careful with the weapons we had built.
We were not.
It's been a long time since the Day of Armageddon. The day that tensions finally broke... and the decision was made to end the world. Missiles launched. Sirens flared. Mothers lied to their children, telling them that everything would be okay. Old friends got together for one last drink, before the end. Several children were made. But the end didn't come. The Humans did what they always did: They saved us from extinction when we couldn't save ourselves.
Great beams of light were sent out from the Research Satellites. They struck the missiles... and there were no missiles anymore when the beams ended. There wasn't even a blast. Then... they made a request to us. They took control of every signal. Every radio, every video screen... everything. They addressed our world, and they *asked us* to avoid going to war, even though the threat of Nuclear Annihilation had been lifted from our world by their intervention. They told us that, whatever our differences might be, they weren't great enough to justify destroying each-other.
We... did as we were asked. We did our best not to go to war. It worked... on the whole. Countries stopped fighting each-other... although internal wars still flared up from time to time. We continued to struggle forward... until we eventually managed to join the humans. We discovered the secrets behind the Warp-Drives that Humans relied upon... and they celebrated out triumph as we ascended to join the galactic community.
We learned that the Humans were not alone among the stars, and that we were not unique in how the Humans had treated us. There were dozens of species like ours, who the Humans had taken an interest in. They had protected them... and encouraged them. When they emerged from their home-worlds with FTL Capabilities... the humans had supported their growth. They'd helped us find worlds to colonize, and they'd sent Terraforming Ships out to create new garden worlds for us to inhabit.
They never asked for anything in return. To them... helping intelligent species, like ours, reach the stars was simply the right thing to do. They believed that all intelligent life was valuable... and that it should be allowed, if not outright encouraged, to flourish. They wanted to see their Local Cluster *filled* with Life... and they'd been working on that for a very long time.
The Grell eventually found the Humans. They were another of the Elder Species, as old as the humans were, but they were not as Ancient as the Remnants. They had come to the stars seeking to spread their Empire, to unite all life beneath their banner... and to make all a part of their "superior" culture.
When they looked upon our Local Cluster... they thought they saw an easy conquest. They saw *dozens* of weak species and nations that could be easily conquered... and the only species of real relevance, the Humans, were pacifistic scientists that hadn't been at war for a very long time. They ignored us, and attacked the Humans first... seeking to destroy the only thing that remotely resembled a threat. They expected that we would not come to the Humans' aid... and they were wrong.
The Humans were not always as peaceful as they were when we were uplifted to the stars. They had been Warriors once, and they had *always* been scientists. Their Ships of War awakened from long hibernation... with our people at their helms. While the Humans had forgotten war... we had all experienced it. It took us awhile to figure out how to do it in space... but we figured it out, and we taught the Humans what they had forgotten.
The Humans turned their Economy away from terraforming and the spreading of Life... and towards the creation of a larger armada. We held the line together... defending the Local Cluster until the Armada was ready. Then... we pushed the Grell back.
We destroyed their ships, and we stranded their people on dozens of planets. We freed those that they had conquered, but few of them were strong enough to join us. We destroyed their infrastructure to stop them from returning to the Stars... and set them back to their stone-age in the process. But... we did not drive them to extinction. Instead... we built space-stations around their worlds and we watched over them, hoping to guide them back to The Stars again once they had learned the Lesson of War.
We returned to peace and exploration... and the Humans returned to spreading life and guiding new intelligence to The Stars. | The semi-bio cushions moulded themselves round Draz'nek's body as it reclined into it's throne, for want of a better word. The throne itself was more of a podium with an intricately carved base and a grand, sweeping panel at the back positioned as if it were a backrest; made of great planks and beams of material from every star system the Hiveking's forces had overrun and subjugated organised in a pattern not dissimilar to that of the petals of a flower. Wood from the biggest trees, beams of the rarest minerals, a container of that valuable spice from that desert planet, all made a rainbow to highlight the grandeur of the Hiveking - and the abundant abilities of it's military.
The normal course of business was the dispensation of judgement between rival sub-hives or the issuing of decrees to formally establish colonies, however on this day such activities had ceased. A single, lone figure at the centre of the Pool of Light of Addressing the Hiveking (as the nearest translation from the Groozl's own language would put it) was the sole centre of attention for all the courtiers, worker Groozls, the Hiveking's partners and, indeed, the hiveking himself.
"Your eminence," the figure began. The human paused to allow the Interpatron(tm) around his neck issue the clicks and screeches of Groozl - such noises were impossible for any human to make.
"I prostrate before you with grave news. The Human parliament has, on this very day, been informed of armed incursions by the Vlanth of Sirius in the outer Solar System, with reports that invasion forces are, as I speak, beginning to enter -"
He was drowned out by a chorus of clicking and screeching from the surrounding Groozl. The few words he could make out from his Interpetron(tm) were mainly colourful curse words, with the odd "Outrageous!" thrown in.
Steven, for this was the human's name, was about to continue with his plea, when the Hiveking himself held up an appendage, causing silence to immediately descend upon the room. The bulky yet frail figure emitted a long series of screeches and clicks, with a higher pitch which the Interpetron (tm) interpreted as anger.
"The Humans of Earth of Sol have been the greatest and dearest friends of myself and my *probable translation: spawn heritage* since the Humans of Earth of Sol made the great leap into the Community of Species of the Galaxy. The Humans of Earth of Sol has long supported myself and the Groozle and my *spawn heritage* and the Groozl's *spawn heritage* in all our endeavours, and without the assistance of the Humans of Earth of Sol we would not have overcome the Great Invasion of the Metal Machines *two hundred years* ago.
"All faithful Groozl here will remember that Humans of Earth of Sol have never ventured beyond their home system of Sol, have never waged war on their neighbours, have always asked for fair prices for their goods, have always offered us excellent prices for our goods... ... ... Many of my *spawn descendants* have studied the arts of star travel and food production at the finest educational institutions the Humans of Earth of Sol have to offer ..."
The speech went on for some time, however Steven did not interrupt. For one thing it would be a serious breach of protocol, secondly the fear and awe to which the Groozl held the Hiveking meant they would simply ignore every distraction until the Hiveking had said his piece.
"... it is therefore my decree of utmost importance, to be carried out at once by all Groozl and with the greatest will of their being, that the entire military might of the Groozl be brought to bear on the Vlanth of Qwer of Sirius in order to save the Humans of Earth of Sol."
-----
The HMS Shropshire hung in orbit around Earth, the great forest of the Sahara below. All Human ships with any weapon capability had been summoned back to Earth to help in the defence.
"Not that we really need it anymore", muttered Captain Wright to herself. The view beyond the windows was practically full of spots of light, the vast majority of which were ships from every civilised nation in the quadrant. The great hulking Hiveships of the Groozl, the small, sleek vessels of the Bo'frun, the saucers of the Greys, all were assembled in the greatest armada seen in the history of the Galaxy. Some news channels on Earth were even reporting that the Armada had led to at least three dozen major wars to be called off amicably, as the respective nations devoted their entire firepower to the defence of what was, by universal acclaim, the friendliest planet in existence. nor had it escaped anyone's notice that if some species from another galaxy decided to invade the Milky Way now would be the perfect time, as the small warlord species around the perimeter had even lent their primitive vessels to the Humans.
The Battle for Humanity, the news channels reported later, lasted somewhere in the region of eight minutes and led to the comprehensive destruction of the entire Vlanth fleet. It was another four minutes before various funds and charities on earth started receiving sizeable sums of money from the other star systems to help rebuild the human colonies massacred in the outer Solar System.
HMS Shropshire was part of the Human fleet to join in the counter-invasion of Sirius, which saw the utter destruction of what was left of the Vlanth military and would have seen the extinction of the Vlanth altogether had Captain Wright not intervened as the Groozl began bombarding the Vlanth warrens on the surface of their home planet.
In the years and centuries to come, as the war faded from memory and the star systems of the galaxy finally unified in universal friendship (following the lead of the strange little mammals from Earth), it was the subject of much study as to exactly why the Vlanth were stuck as medieval farmers, and paid the humans vast sums of money every year, under the supervision of the Groozl | 2017-03-26T08:23:17 | 2017-03-26T06:04:45 | 497 | 221 |
[WP] So tell me this, elf. If you're so much better than humans at everything, then how come even though your ancient civilization dates back millenia before we "crawled out of the mud pits", you're still riding around on horses and swinging sharp pieces of metal just like us? | "Because, you idiot, we're not focused on wringing the neck of the earth for our own gain like you guys."
The human scoffed before sipping his ale. "Oh gods here it comes."
The elf rolled his eyes and put down his drink. "No you got to understand, we elves live for a really long time. Incredibly long compared to humans. Our culture is focused on preserving nature and keeping order in the branches of the great mother. You may mock us for being slow to pick up with the times but I've seen the spread of human civilizations. I have watch it drain the life out of the branch in which you lay claim for your own benefit, unknowingly bringing your own doom."
"OK well that still doesn't explain why you guys arnt super advanced or something. You got countless years ahead of you so use it!"
The elf let out a sigh. "No you- ok look, we live with nature. When we fight, it is only out of necessity. You fight everything. You fight the world around you, your fellow man, elves, me when im saying you're a daft idiot."
"Oi"
"Shush. Anyway as I was saying your kind enjoy fighting more then coexisting. Elves have no desire to fight so we don't work on better ways to kill each other. Humans work way to hard fighting everything so you come up with better methods. It's not that elves arnt advance but we're just not focus on fighting."
The human scoffed. "Oh yah? Well what great advancement have you elves done? I haven't seen any of it."
"Yah cause you idiots will use it to fight each other. Its a pretty open secret that thats why we dont tell you guys this."
"OK well tell me one really vague thing then."
"Nuclear power plant."
"OK well that just a made up word."
"Mmmhm. Just enjoy your ale and keep calling our science 'magic'." | Vander look at the bandits.
It wasn’t that hard to see all the weak points in their crude armor and weapons. All of it was cheap crap even by the low standers of human chaos worshippers.
Plus, all of the bandits had gotten intoxicated after capturing the inquisitor so they would be slower than normal.
A thrust here, and strike there, and each bandit would either die or be disabled to be interrogated latter by the inquisition.
It was the easier thing in the world to undo the knots and rope binding him without them noticing.
This is isn’t the first time Vander had played this game to get to the intelligence he wanted.
It was almost getting boring.
But he had to admit, he still did love this next part.
“Let me show you…” | 2022-09-04T10:13:29 | 2022-09-04T07:17:47 | 90 | 32 |
[WP] you are the first immortal. While it is true that you cannot die, your flesh and body can. After so many millennia you are reduced to a sentient skeleton sitting at the bottom of a peaceful pond to avoid contact with other people. Some bastards are trying to drain it | I didn't want to kill them.
The pond of Love's Lament had lost its meaning to the people of the nearby village, but that didn't justify slaughtering them in their sleep. There had to be some purpose behind this plot. Perhaps there was a drought in another part of the kingdom, or a misguided baron looking for treasure where there was none. All of those problems had peaceful solutions. They just required leaving the pond.
And yet... I couldn't.
In this rotting world, the only thing I could cling to were my ideals. Everything else was lost to time. I promised this would be my final resting place. Sure, I could always return, but that went against the spirit of my vow. It needed to stay this way forever.
I sabotaged their equipment at first, plugging up their hoses with stones. They quickly adapted, though. My next attempt was more direct. I politely asked every bird nearby to defecate on the workers, and they obliged. That only drew an escort of soldiers the following week, who killed every bird in sight. After millennia of seeing so much death, it still hurt to witness their callous disregard for life. They had no respect for this sacred place.
That wasn't enough to get me to leave, though. I loathed myself for my inaction. The paradox rattled my skull for days. At a certain point, I realized that I was hiding out of fear. If I abandoned this place, I might cling to another instead. Never again. My resolve to stay grew tenfold. I'd endure anything to remain in the pond.
It wasn't until they dumped poison into the water that I had to make a choice. They were trying to draw me out, thinking they could harm me. And they did. Flowers wilted and fish decomposed in front of my hollowed-out eyes, but there was nothing I could do to save them. I'd seen war, I'd seen famine, I'd seen pestilence, and they paled in comparison to what I was losing. The beauty of this place was what first made it meaningful. I met the love of my life here. The only person to ever draw me out of my shell after centuries of wandering alone, long before I shed my flesh.
Losing them made it hard to ever care about anything else. I still regret not mentioning I was immortal, but that may have been for the best. Our promise to be buried together gave me strength. It made me content with solitude. This pond remained unchanging for as long as I stayed in it. Its beauty was constant, just like my love. Or so I thought. The water turned green and murky. A foul stench slowly permeated the air. Even the animals that frequented it were repelled by its unrecognizable appearance.
This wasn't the place we loved anymore.
I needed to rage.
The workers started screaming as soon as I emerged from the water. They didn't stand a chance. I strangled a dozen of them with their own hose. The soldiers soon attacked me, but their weapons were ineffective. I didn't stop fighting until they were beaten to a bloody pulp. In the aftermath of my rampage, I wept at my impotence. The pond was forever desecrated and it was all my fault. The reason they were trying to drain it was because of a monster that lurked beneath it.
I had been scaring the villagers for centuries. That was the only way to preserve this place. I never meant any harm. They tried to find me, but I always hid from their presence. Eventually, after driving away enough people, they assumed I was a threat.
This happened because of my clinging. In my futile attempt to hold on, I ended up killing the pond instead. Perhaps, this was the punishment I deserved. My sins made me unworthy of this grave.
-----------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | I was cursed.
Others would say blessed. But not me.
I first found out I was cursed when I had taken a rapier right to my right lung during a failed siege of the Crusades. It would have killed any other man - but not I. It was hailed as a sign from god, and I was promoted to a high leadership position to carry on each fight, with only a scar and a lack of working lung as a reminder.
This went on for many, many centuries. I remember having my scalp torn off in "The New World" when we invaded and had no regard for others. I remember having a hand blown clean off in The Great War, and I remember maggot filled feet during The Second. I remember napalm raining from the sky during Vietnam. Eventually, there was too much to remember. Conflicts, loved ones, friends, family, hobbies, jobs. All came and went in my lifetime without so much of a tombstone.
So that must be what makes me cursed, right? Witnessing the loves of my life wilt away in front of my eyes? Or being able to feel my body weaken and strain as I approach being 1,000 years old? No, that's not it.
I'm cursed because humanity is fucking annoying.
Every. Single. Time. There is always a conflict, always some issue, and SOMEHOW I get involved, and have to listen to their plebeian whining and I. Can't. Take. It. Anymore!
So I did what any logical walking sack of bones would do: I drowned myself in a lake.
I've actually been down here since 2004. The water rotting away any bit of my muscles and tissue left, leaving me as a sunked shallowed spooky skeleton swimming silently in the subterfuge. I get pieces of information every now and then from passerbys: first African-American U.S. President, Britain trying to gain independence, and some jerks named "The Paul Brothers".
I was fine. I was alone. I was happy!
Until I heard the pump. The blasted thing that even brought me to this point. You see, apperantly some millionaire politician from New York wanted to build another golf course, and decided that my lake was the perfect spot for a course. So they began to take my water away. Leaving all of my fish friends with less room, exposing all of my belongings, and exposing me.
I had been around for a long time, so I knew what they were afraid of. If they were going to disturb my sleep, then I'd show them just how scary a skeleton, the creature from the black lagoon, can truly be. | 2020-11-20T11:48:01 | 2020-11-20T10:45:42 | 579 | 360 |
[WP] The White House is under attack. One man is left standing. He is the Chef's son, he is Cory, and he is back in the House.
What ever will he do? | I sat with my back against the cabinet door. I open the shotgun barrel and load the last of my shells. I fall on my left elbow to peer around the kitchen island. Through the reflection of the refridgerator, I could see the enemy's black mask, pulled up to reveal only his mouth. I could see the smile on his face, his confidence. Bastard. I pulled myself upright and took a deep breath.
"Alright dude, there's no where left to go. Time to take it like a man," I say, barely audible if it wasn't for the echo through stoves overhead.
I wondered if he would give up. Slide his own AK47 between the bodies that gave pattern to the tile floor. I looked around, holding the tears back as my eyes fell onto my own father. It was almost comedic the way his face was covered in the Presidents cake icing... at least it would have been if it wasn't for the cherry red blood still seeping out the bullet hole through his neck. Damn thing of it all, it was the same bullet that caught my leg. I just hoped...
"No chance Mr. Baxter, I know you're going to bleed out before you even get a chance to make a move."
Shit. So he did know. No matter. It was almost time to get this over with anyways. I watched as the seconds tic by on the wall clock between us. Damn, I hope Meena got out, would love to pop that Bahavian ...
"5...4...3.."
Time already? Fine. I cocked the shotgun and aimed high, too high to the watchful eye. Just as a voice yelled out, "1!", I shot out the final round engulfing the end of the barrel in flames. The other man yells as he rounds the corner right under my shot, which flies over his head and out of sight. He stands over me, his own barrel pointing right for my skull.
"Any last words Cory?"
I raise my head to look him in the eyes, "Bitch, this is my house."
Before he realized it was too late, the roof above him cracks from the shot and falls on top of him bringing the President's own 1 ton safe with it. His body folds like the perfect omelettes my father would make me every Sunday, disappearing under the rubble and his blood splattering to every corner of the kitchen.
"It's done," I say aloud.
"I know," Raven says into my ear. I pull the bluetooth out and throw it over my head into the sink. | Through the tiny slit in the cupboard, Cory could see his father huddling under the preparation table, hoping that the alarms would stop soon. He could see the fear on his father's face and the man who was dressed all in black with the gun. His father held a knife, hoping perhaps to take the man in black down.
The man in black rounded the table and his father sprang out, thrusting the knife at the man's abdomen. The blade was deflected by the armor that the man in black wore. He was knocked against the fridge with a heavy thud, outside of Cory's line of sight. He buried his head in his hands as the sounds of the fight went on outside. Then there were two terrible loud noises then silence.
Cory peered out of the cupboard to see the man in black standing with his gun pointed at something Cory could not see on the floor. There was a third terrible loud noise.
The scream of "nooo!" was ripped from Cory despite his best attempts to stay quiet. He stifled his cry, biting down on his arm until he felt the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. However, he could not stop the tears that were running down his face. Suddenly light flooded into the dark cupboard and there was one last terrible loud noise. | 2015-07-02T07:06:42 | 2015-07-02T06:56:53 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] "Matt, we love you, and that's why we're all here. But you have a serious hoarding problem!" "But I'm half dragon! It's *literally* part of my heritage!" | "A fine?" Matthew asked.
"Yes," the woman said. She was backed by several other women and a couple of police officers.
He held in his hand several pieces of papers, clipped together by a rose gold staple. He picked out the staple and pocketed it, leafing through the many papers listing the many ordinances Matthew's home was breaking within the community.
"Fine, I'll pay." Matthew said.
The Everton mansion was an eyesore, the HOA committee had its eye on the house since its inception. Matthew countered by buying up every house in a ten mile radius and those houses too succumbed to Matthew Everton's unceasing wrath.
The lawns were overgrown with wildflowers and fauna of all kind found homes within Matthew's domain. He painted the homes by himself and on his daily walk, he reorganized the items that were out of place. A slanted lamp with a missing shade? He knew just the spot. A rusted gun fished out of the river? There was a drawer for that in one of the many homes that he owned. Matthew continued life this way, walking daily through the growth. There were many houses to go through and there were travelers, travelers who contributed to the treasures, to the mound.
Real estate agents came to solicit him into selling land, police officers came by to interrogate him about the weird smells coming from some of the homes, and lastly, his family members came in swathes.
"You guys are worse than the officers that were here." Matthew said to them. His mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. They were all here.
"Mattie, we love you." His mother said. "That's why we're all here, but even you have to admit that you have a serious hoarding problem."
"It's more like an addiction," one of his aunts chimed.
Everyone else stared, waiting for Matthew's response. They did love him and some of them hoped to be included in Matthew's inheritance. His father had left everything to him. The others weren't forgotten, they'd each received notes of love and of not entirely insignificant amounts of money, but it paled in comparison to what Matthew was left with.
"Mom," Matthew said. "I'm doing what Dad wanted me to."
Silence.
His mom turned red, not figuratively, but she literally turned red. His family members too turned red in support of Matthew's mother. They grew bigger, threatening to collapse the mansion's walls. They were turning, shifting and molding their bodies into a mythical form. They were turning into copies of his father. A cheap trick, Matthew thought.
He collected himself as his family grew double, triple, quadruple in size. He felt the heat of their breath, but he took one himself. He held his breath and inside he nourished a fire.
"Stop." he said. He didn't yell it, he spoke the words with a power only his father had. The word spread and his family froze, the single word compelling them to return to their human forms.
"I am what's left of Dad's legacy," Matthew said. "I am half dragon and these are his treasures."
His family watched as he drew another breath, more fire in his stomach.
"Stay." he said and they did.
Through the mounds of trinkets and trash and treasure, Matthew walked with precision. He moved within the mounds and he grabbed an old shoebox.
He dropped the shoebox in front of his family, it made a satisfying thunk on the wood floors. Gold coins spilled out.
"Share these amongst yourself and leave. Never come back." Matthew said, there was no fire needed behind the words, but they had power yet.
Matthew watched as his family fought for the coins, eventually leaving a mess behind of cloth and blood. He cleaned it, returning the tatters to the trash where they belonged. There was no room for trash in the mound.
His mother was the last to leave and her eyes were cold, but she smiled wide.
"You really are like your father," she said.
---
Thanks for reading! More at r/DeneilYeong | The cockroach skittered between potential meals: some cheetoh crumbs, some old dried salsa, several sugary drink spills. The roach was joined by a few friends as they combed the great lands for sustenance to feed their progeny.
Matt snorted and coughed in his sleep, though the apnea did not wake him. Gold coins interlaced within his mattress dug into his leathery flesh. Aside from the treasure hidden within his mattress, Matt had a number of personal affects that would be worth a sizeable quantity to any interested collector: half a dozen boxes of old pizza, eight jars of high grade dragon-human piss, piles of empty mountain dew two liters, a mountain of take out trash, primarily from Panda Express, though with a small smattering of many fast food joints.
Matt took care of his treasures, occasionally dusting off the old pizza slices. He appreciated the scavengers who picked the treasures clean of their rot.
The alarm clock went off with a harsh breep, and Matt turned it off in one swift motion. Matt snoozed as the roaches crawling across his belly finished their meals. Several ate a long swipe of cheetoh crumbs, when Matt had been too lazy to wash his hands. A few more tried to slurp some sugar from a doctor pepper spill near Matt's lapel.
\---
A gentle knock came from the door: bum, bum, badum, bum.
Matt struggled to sit up in his reclining chair, the damn thing was practically broken.
Matt opened the door to protests from the hinges.
"Hello, sir. How are you today?" The pizza delivery boy's face looked funny, and he kept stealing glances at Matt's belly, to his army of cockroaches scurrying around looking for food. The boy stifled gags as the apartment smell flooded from the room: a pungent aroma consisting of old cats and rotting food.
"Doing fine."
"Signature, please, sir." His outstretched hand held a receipt.
Matt stiffed the boy before taking his pizza.
\---
After his shift, the pizza boy called adult protective services on Matt, concerned for his wellbeing, certain he was being neglected by his family in his old age.
Matt bellowed in anger when the social worker showed up, expecting a potentially mentally disabled old man and instead getting a thirty-something half dragon-man.
"It's okay, sonny. We have resources to help." The stupid old bag had said, and Matt seethed.
"I don't need help! This is me! This is how I am supposed to be!" Matt had screamed at the stupid cunt before slamming the door shut.
Matt sat down on his couch, ready to settle back into Always Sunny. He watched the cockroaches on his belly, and imagined them as Mac and Dennis and Charlie, just some boys up to their hijinks.
Matt smiled as he sat in his fortress. | 2022-09-04T10:57:48 | 2022-09-04T10:12:31 | 250 | 13 |
[WP]After death each person gets to choose one thing from their old life--a skill, a lesson, a memory--to bring into their next life as a talent or an innate understanding. It's time to make your choice. | Decided to take the prompt from another perspective/direction. Hope that's fine.
---
"Next"
I had always hated how rattly my voice was. Sure, I'm death's secretary, an undead cosmic peon, but did I have to sound like a whiny xylophone? These thoughts swam in my rotted mind as I scribbled on the ledger in front of me. The womanly specter gently floated out of the scarcely-furnished room that was my office, parting the satin curtains on the wall to my left and disappearing into the heavenly light. I sighed. Her name was Judy Smith last time. A plain name for a rather plain ghost. She wanted to remember how to drive. Saves her a test, I guess. The gentle swish of the curtains on the far side of the room announced that my next guest had entered. Placing my pencil gently next to my notebook, I finally look upward and begin the spiel.
"Hello, dearly departed, and welcome back to- oh."
Immediately the apathetic look on my face twists into a grimace. It was him. The specter in front of my casually lounged on the seat before my desk, as if he owned the place. He looked rather similar to any other passing soul, but just from his mannerisms I know who he was; his ever-present smirk, that twinkle in his eye-sockets, the way he leaned back with one arm over the backrest of the lounge chair. I sighed again, more audibly this time.
"Hello Jack. Welcome back to Reincarnation, trademarked. You know the drill. How'd you go this time?"
Jack smirked wider.
"Heyo, Bill. Get this, right: was playing a friendly game of poker when some stiff blows my brains out for no reason!"
I glance down at my notes, grimace growing.
"First of all, my name isn't Bill. You know that. Second of all, it says here you were working a multi-billion-dollar casino ring and were shot by the police after they uncovered you were running a drug cartel."
The phantom shrugged.
"Same thing, innit?"
I pinch the bridge of my bony nose.
"Okay, so, you're dead. What do you want this time, man? The first time it was to remember everything you gain from previous lives, which is still being reviewed in the Underworld Court for violation of afterlife law. After that it was the skill to use a gun-"
"Hah! Yeah, good second pick, if you ask me. Saves time."
"Yes, well, after that it was how to lie well, then the ability to threaten people well."
Jack grinned fully this time.
"Saves time getting through school with those two, huh? Get some nerds to do the work, lie about how it got done, bada-bing bada-boom, college degree."
I pick up the notepad in front of me and begin flipping through it.
"Whatever you say, Jack. Anyway, then it was being good at sex, then a string of memories about *having* sex, then you go back to skills like how to open safes, pick locks, kill someone silently, hide a body, etc., etc."
Jack shrugs, still smiling. I swear I can almost see a cigar in his mouth. I continue, getting progressively more exhausted with the situation.
"Blah blah blah the contents of some book called 'How to Get Rich Quick', blah blah blah the memory of how the criminal justice system functions, blah blah blah the memory of some ancient martial arts school in Japan-"
"Oh, yeah, Hidden Dragon Temple. Decent place, that one. I remember I learned karate from them, then remembered the karate, then bulldozed over their land and built a parking lot! Hahaha!" He wipes away tears of laughter that do not exist. "Hooo, boy, good times."
I drop the notebook onto my desk exasperatedly.
"Alright, Jack, I have other souls to send on. What will it be this time, huh? The ability to fly a helicopter? How to disassemble a machine gun in 30 second flat? How to-"
"I want to remember the access codes to the Pentagon security network."
"...What."
Jack laughs again, that gleam in his sockets more noticeable now.
"Hell yeah, man! Found those out a few days before I kicked the bucket this time! Next time is gonna be sick bruh."
I glance at the notes, and for once he's telling the truth: the memory of him paying off a bunch of hackers, then subsequently killing them all, is right there. I frown and sigh again, facepalming.
"Sure. Fine. Enjoy."
The usual small glowing sphere appears in his hands, colored blue for a memory. He chuckles and eats it, blowing a bubble with it as if it were chewing gum. His sockets shine with new clarity as he rises from the chair and saunters to the left curtains. He speaks a last time without looking at me, waving his hand in my general direction.
"Hah! Thanks again, Bob! Ciao!"
My frown deepens.
"My name isn't-"
But he's already gone. I sigh, rest my skeletal elbows on the desk and place my head in my hands. I mumble to myself before welcoming in the next spirit.
"Ugh... I am so getting fired over that guy..." | I don't think I could describe what I saw as "blinding", because what followed was darkness. Perhaps I had gone blind in the process? No amount of blinking, waving my hands, nothing registered in my eye line. With the loss of vision, panic began to build in my chest, my heart racing in my ears. There was nothing around me. Nothing to touch, to see, to smell. That last one really stuck out to me, and I knew that this was the end, the oblivion that I'd feared for a long time. Everyone fears death, right?
As the panic slowly subsided, a light began to appear around me, and a pale figure became visible, the restoration of my vision calming my nerves and giving me a small amount of joy. The figure wore a black robe, the hood of which was mostly over their face. When they spoke, their voice didn't resonate from their direction. It just appeared in my mind. Lips moved without sound, yet it played so clearly in my head.
"You have passed on. You will not have long to transition into your next life, so I must be brief. We will not discuss your death, the world, or anything that would be fruitless upon your reincarnation."
The voice sounded absolute, unyielding and unwilling to calm my troubled mind. I wanted answers. How did I die? What will happen to my family? Before anymore thoughts could rush to the front of my train of thought, the figure began to speak once more.
"You lived your life well, and now is the time to begin considering what you will take with you into the next life. I will grant you a moment to think on it. Whatever you decide to take, it must be something that can be passed on to a new body that is not physical. Whether it be a memory, a skill, anything that could be contained in the human mind. Pick one, and I will accommodate."
Floating amidst the darkness, existing in an invisible orb of light that cast long shadows behind the person ahead of me, I didn't have an answer. It wasn't something I could easily bark out a request for. Did I ask to keep my intelligence, my spark of curiosity? My friendly nature? There was a lot to consider, and, whatever I picked, it would have to be something that my next life could build on. That threw out intelligence, in my opinion. Most can learn, if they are capable of it. Perhaps that was where savants came from? People who chose to carry their intelligence into a body that was not capable of doing anything more than their talent they had garnered from their life before?
My philosophical internal monologue appeared to annoy the figure, crossing its arms across its chest, the pale chin beneath the long hood showing a frown. "Lingering in thought will count as forfeit." That fact made me wonder if they had imposed this limitation to find the truth in a person, or to prevent delay in moving on.
After a quick moment of thinking, I opened my mouth to speak. "I want to carry with me a fact, or an understanding, I guess. Before I explain, is this allowed?" I asked, looking to the figure and seeing a small nod of their hood. With that, I pushed on. "I want to carry on the lesson of being idle. I've spent a lot of my life with the mentality of waiting for good things to come." I said, feeling a little self-conscious as I spoke and pushing through. "I want to give myself that knowledge, so that I will take advantage of all opportunities that are worth pursuing. I want to make my next life one worth remembering, one without regret and without fear of unexplored avenues."
In speaking it aloud, I could feel a sense of embarrassment begin to run across my face. The figure only smiled as their arms dropped from their chest and began to float at their sides. "Your choice is made. I do hope that your next life is more interesting, given what you carry with you this time." They said, the light that once surrounded me beginning to fade.
This time, when the light would come, washing away the darkness, I knew I would not be quite the same person again. | 2019-10-29T18:12:44 | 2019-10-29T16:55:34 | 197 | 90 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but after reading it carefully you realize that it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be the smartass that you are, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed them instead. | Day 0: The tome finally showed up today. It was found in a mass grave, just outside of what is now Rome, preserved perfectly. Archeologists thought it was a early Christian religious text at first, but more careful consideration revealed some peculiar details: proto-Germanic text hundreds of miles from that region. They've sent it to us for some analysis. First up, carbon dating!
Day 25: The (first) dating finished up last week and the whole lab was shocked. It was at least 500 years older than it should've been. Paper isn't supposed to hold up for that long, nothing traveled that far back in those days without a record, and the dialect is somehow subtly wrong. We're running it again and the linguistics team is doing a retranslation. Oh yeah, we've got a linguistics team now. The university got funding from an anonymous donor, explicitly for this project. Weird part is, we haven't publicized anything about it yet. Still, gift horse, mouth, and all that jazz.
Day 70: More money, more team members, more shocking discoveries. Carbon dating reconfirmed that weird date and somebody found a reference to a similar book in some nearly forgotten archive. Didn't say what it was, but we've got one confirmed sighting at the right time, so that's good news. Linguistics team is having a blast. Apparently it's not proto-Germanic, but some new language that predates it. Similar enough at first glance, but the original read as a religious text seems wrong now. It does reference biblical concepts quite often however. Lots on Lucifer and the devil. Newest team is a few materials scientists. Apparently, it's not printed on paper. Some kind of animal skin.
Day 107: We're getting shut down soon. Lots of 3 letters and men in black started becoming very interested in what we were doing, and now everything will be gone soon. It doesn't make any sense! The book was just some grimoire filled with gibberish rituals and "spells". Why would the government care? They've got enough demons without summoning more. They can't even legally keep it. Mats team got some results and it's a piece of anthropodermic bibliopegy: human skin bound books. We were supposed to send it back to Italy, since it's a "cultural artifact" now, but we just needed a few more days to finish translating. They should be receiving a fake any day now. They don't deserve it. It's ours to study.
Day 234: All the data's been stolen from me. They swept the lab, top to bottom, then took the server racks whole. They didn't search quite well enough. I made another copy. I let them have it, but I've got the book. It's mine. They can't take it from me. It was translated just before we got disbanded. All the other professors got transferred. Supposedly at new universities, but I know the truth. They betrayed me. They tried to take the book away. They can't do that. It's mine. They tried to steal my book and go work on it themselves. They failed. I've got the rituals here. Fascinating, really. Chemical reagents centuries ahead of their time, impossible processes for back then. And death. Now we know why it was found in a mass grave. Whoever had it before me tried to use it and failed. I won't. I'm better. I can get everything I need on Amazon. Gun cotton, quicksilver, aluminum, even lives. I'll use bacteria. There's thousands in a single colony. I can summon him a hundred times over. I've got it all prepared. Set the ritual, sacrifice the lives, and fulfill my purpose. It needs to be done. It has to. I need to.
- Selected research notes of Simon King. Extracted from destroyed residence after large explosion by Project Mephistopheles.
-----------------
I had an idea for a Blair witch project type story. Not as strictly based on the prompt, but I liked the idea of a mysterious artifact being found and a researcher slowly being corrupted by it. | My thoughts were racing as I tipped the pure alcohol bottle towards the petri dish. Personally I was disgusted by the bacteria on it.
It was green, spotty, moist, and worst of all was it came from my face! I couldn't be more disgusted with myself and I knew that I would never see my body the same again, but that wasn't important right now.
What did matter was of this was going to work. The ritual itself is meant to restore a person's youth.
I'll admit that I am by no means old but my 20's are almost behind me, and I'm not ready to decline in all manners of health just yet!
My biggest concern wasn't really if this would work, but rather what might happen if it did.
Would it be as harmless as the bacteria has only been alive for a few days and therefore the sacrifice would only make me a few days younger?
My fear gripped me tight as I imagined the worse possiblity that if it does work and the bacteria on that tray included skin pieces that are as old as I am then I'd become a defenseless baby again!
Then again that is impossible. No part of the human body exposed to the outer layers is truly as old as the human body itself. With all of the skin we shed I'd actually be surprised if there was any living human tissue in that dish.
But wait! What if the ritual sees the age more than the form of the sacrifice?! The bacteria is only days old! It'll think I'm sacrificing babies!
In that moment I put the petri dish down, setting the alcohol aside. "I can't do it...I just can't."
I stared at the bacteria. It disgusted me greatly, but the risks were just too great. "Honestly, I've probably aged more in the last five minutes than I have in the past month. This can't be worth it."
I grab the dish and blow out the candles, sighing before calmly walking upstairs.
I toss the petri dish in the trash and walk towards the sink. "Really, I bet I'd at least feel a few years younger if I jogged three times a week. You know what? I actually think I'd like that!"
I smile to myself before squirting the hand sanitizer on my hands and rubbing them thoroughly.
I laugh, the joy of the idea of being healthy is as easy as taking a pleasure walk through the park was already making me feel younger!
My laughter soon ended as I noticed my skin start to feel more supple, smoother. I watched as my skin got plump and then skinny again as my hands steadily became smaller and less developed.
I gasped, "The ritual! Oh no! The sanitizer!!! Nooo!!! I was right!"
Before long all that remained was a pile of clothes on the floor and an underdeveloped embryo too small to even be noticed by the human eye. | 2022-11-22T21:21:46 | 2022-11-22T20:13:59 | 216 | 143 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Dear Luis Miguel,
It's been 4 years since you've passed. Things have gotten better from the old years. The kids are older, my house is different, I actually have cats again.
I found some of your old photos. Back in the day when the camera had only megabytes instead on gigabytes. I found a nice one where you were sunbathing in front of the large glass doors leading to the outside world. You were always an outdoors type.
These cats are different than you. You snuggled in my arms, rested your head on my collarbone, your wet nose on my chin. You would lay right on top of my back over looking my room.
You began wasting away and my heart stopped. I wish I could have done more but your kidneys were shot. It was a death sentence.
My husband dreamt of you before that day. "Please take care of her for me." I'd like to believe you communicated before you passed. It made things easier.
You brought me joy in a tough world, gave me peace in a harsh home, loved me in my loveless times. I wished to grow older with you but it never came to pass. The pain has dulled and, I may have other pets to keep me company but you were the first. You were my jewel.
We shall meet again across the rainbow bridge
Love, Your Equal | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T19:02:08 | 1,095 | 516 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | "Hahahahahahahahaha!"
"Are you done?"
"HAHAHAHAHA! Ha. Ahem. Seriously, though, is this some kind of joke? I didn't think you went in for psychological misdirection."
Starfire groaned. "I wish. None of my friends can come, and you're my only, um, professional contact who knows my secret identity."
"What, no fellow heroes who could swoop in to save you? Don't you tell each other your names?"
"We cut back on sharing intel after The Scientist made the hat that turns people evil."
I made a mental note to come up with a way to exploit this information later. "I must admit, I'm intrigued. But tell me, what makes you think you can trust me with this delicate social situation?"
"You've been an honorable foe, and-."
"Real reason."
"Fine. As long as you don't embarrass me too badly, you get to watch me lie to my friends and family. I figured that would be enough of an incentive for you."
"HAHAHAHAHA! You're not wrong."
"So... you'll do it?"
"Here's how this will go, Lily. Yes, you have to get used to me saying your real name. No, you don't get to know my true identity. You'll refer to me as a pseudonym that I choose. Lady Kay Oss. No, Helen Hywater. Mary Poopins! Hmm. I'll send you the name later."
"Ugh. Fine."
"I will not chip in for a present. I will wear a sexy dress. Your ex will be super jealous of you. Kissing is on the table if the chemistry is right."
"Oh! Um..."
"I will be an excellent wedding guest. I'll make small talk and tell mildly embarrassing stories about you, which you will back up. I get to exchange phone numbers with your friends so I can continue messing with you in the future."
"Oh, come on. That's not-."
"I am also prepared to spill a glass of red wine on your ex's dress."
"...deal." | [Poem]
I want to tell you first of all, I'm sorry for the broken legs
And burning down your nana's barn
And for the arsenic-laced eggs.
I regret the hornet swarm,
the letter bomb with razor blades,
of course, the antifreeze Kool aid
and Irradiated birds of prey.
I haven't been myself, you see
for one or two or thirty years
that's why I sent the polar bears
with jousting lances on their knees.
But I want to tell you I can change
and end jejune hostilities
like the time I gave your nana mange
I'll take responsibility!
So please oh please give me one chance
to change your mind and clean the slate
I have a wedding to attend
and I'd like you to be my date | 2022-10-06T19:28:15 | 2022-10-06T18:38:29 | 248 | 84 |
[WP] Psychics are ranked on a scale from S (strong) to D (weak). You are the laziest S-class psychic in the world. | "S Class" said the examiner, stamping my form and sliding it into a filing cabinet. "You know what that means, right?"
I shook my head, but the movement was a lie. I knew exactly what it meant, because I could see into the examiners mind as easily as the window to my right. "No sir."
A smile crept across his wrinkled face. "Sure you do, Nathan."
I swallowed. The thoughts I could see swirling in his mind now knew I was lying. But there was something else mixed in with those thoughts. There was excitement, wrapped in amazement, wrapped in... fear?
"You're an S Class psychic. That means you're one of the most capable psychic individuals on the planet. You're young now - most of your abilities are still unknown to you. The true depth of your ability probably won't become apparent until you reach your mid twenties."
"Why are you afraid?" I blurted out, like the kid I was. "I -- sorry." I tried not to intrude on people's thoughts. My parents had warned me against it. A person's mind was private, and nobody would take kindly to somebody unwelcome poking around.
The examiner offered me a reassuring smile. "Now now, Nathan. Don't worry. When you do this job as long as I have you get used to new psychics accidentally taking a peek in your mind." He sighed. "Yes, what you saw was some sense of fear. But it's not of you, or for you. You're simply very capable. S Class psychics are as rare as they come, counting you, there's now ten alive. Ten, Nathan. Let that sink in." He folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his leather office chair, taking a deep breath. My abilities instinctively probed his thoughts and I could see he was looking for a nice way to say what was not nice at all.
"That fear I felt is because of people like Ivan Stude. Have you heard of him?"
"A little bit, sir."
"Well he was a very bad man, Nathan. Unfortunately, he was also a very powerful man. He was the first modified S Class psychic we've ever had to deal with."
"Modified?"
"In simpler terms, we define psychics by their capacity for performance. The grades range from D Class, with mild psychic abilities, mostly highly adept emotional reading - through C, B, and A. The level of capacity increases with each level. An A Class for instance would be able to actually implant thoughts or ideas into a person's mind, so you can see how they might be dangerous."
"But what does it mean to be modified?" I asked, this time managing to control my compulsion to sift through his thoughts.
"Well, keeping with the grading scale an S Class is a step above A Class. By modified I mean, well, that he was really more of an S+. The first we'd ever seen. In fact-- the only one we've seen." He offered me a smile of consolation, and then that same sensation of fear crept over him. "At least, until you."
***17 Years Later***
"Nathan, can you hear me?"
Blood and gunfire filled the TV screen and the low, scratchy voice of the announcer growled Double Kill! I smiled to myself and opened my mouth, biting down on the hotpocket floating in front of me. Its delicious, pizza-y filling satisfying every wanting taste bud in my mouth. Oh Pillsbury--
"Nathan!"
Ugh. "What the hell is it?"
"We need you."
The pizza pocket floated back down to the plate and I swallowed what I'd been eating. "I need *you* out of my head."
"You could make me if you actually showed up to training."
She had a point. She was an A Class. I was an S Class. Or an S+. Whatever it was. The point is, I was better than her.
Or at least I was on paper.
Chantelle, being the nerd that she is sort of took her whole 'psychic gift' thing to heart. Psychic lessons five days a week, eight hours a day. Hell, the chick probably even did the homework assignments. Me? I'm lucky to show up one day a week and stay past lunch.
My fingers danced across the controller like a symphony of death, its crescendo the gruff voiced announcer proclaiming *Killtacular*! "Fuck yeah!" I shouted.
"What?" Said Chantelle.
"Nothing. And I would show up to training but you know I've been busy lately."
"Nathan I can literally see you're playing Medal of Duty right now."
"Ugh, are you serious? Looking through my eyes? Creepy."
"I'm sorry, but it's the only way to get the honest truth out of you."
I rolled my eyes and made sure to think '*Oh brother*' in the most sarcastic inner voice I could muster.
"I heard that." Came the voice from the other end.
Good, I was counting on it. "So can I help you with something or are you just playing class truancy captain? Because I'm sort of dominating right now and as sweet as being an S+ Psychic is, I'm still shit at multitasking."
"It's him." She said in a somber tone. "He's at it again."
"What, Donny? He's still hitting on you? Even after you told him to pound sand?"
Donny was another A Class psychic who attended our government training regime. He was a nice enough guy, but a total weirdo. While some of us were watching Game of Thrones and learning valuable social skills, Donny was watching cartoons in other languages and impressively becoming more awkward than he already was. He also had a thing for Chantelle which he professed through hopelessly uncomfortable flirting. Word of advice - don't get a chick flowers on your first date, especially if she doesn't know it's a date.
"Not Donny, dick."
"Dick? Didn't know you guys even talked."
"No, you're a dick! It's not them for god sakes it's-- it's--"
I willed my mind to play the Jeopardy theme song. I could hardly surpress the smile.
"Him." She hissed. "Ivan."
The controller fell out of my hands and the sounds of gunfire and Double Kills! drifted from my thoughts.
Ivan Stude.
I swallowed. "What is that guy like 90 now?"
"Something like that. But apparently he hasn't lost a step. In fact, if the reports we're getting are true - he's picked up a few more tricks."
Jesus. The guy already wrote the book on psychic tricks, now he's adding more? As if he didn't already have two legs and an arm up on the entire planet.
"That sucks. I'm sure he'll die of old age in the next two, maybe three years though." I reached down and picked up my controller, feeling calmer again. "Time should sort him out."
There was silence on the other line. I reached out to Chantelle again but dipped a little too deep. Let's just say that glimpse into her thoughts didn't do much for my nerves.
"Why are you so worried about me?" I asked hesitantly.
"Nathan it's-" she stopped again. Her words drifting and echoing around my mind as if we were discussing this in a vast cavern.
"Finish your thought, Chantelle."
"It's you."
"Come again?"
"He's coming for *you*."
| 1200 thread count sheets are absolutely glorious. I had never slept in one before I was hired by The Foundation, but after a 2 months or so of this luxurious softness I doubt I could sleep in anything else.
I rolled over and pulled the fluffy duvet around me. Though the summer had only just ended, the mornings had gotten quite chilly and having a thick comforter to curl up in until it warmed up was absolutely necessary.
Across the room I could hear the agent politely clear his throat. It was the fourth time over the course of an hour. No doubt he had heard stories of my first day at The Foundation… ah lets call it TF for short. Far too many syllables in that name for comfort. Anyway, my first day at the foundation I woke up from my nap to find four of the TF black suits pressed against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. No doubt they had walked into the room and tried to wake me. I heard afterwards that they had tried for 5 minutes to wake me without touching me but in their impatience they had come to my bedside grasped me by the shoulder.
I honestly apologized to them after, when I visited them at the hospital. Of course I had no choice in the trip. The Chief insisted so that I didn’t foster ill will amongst the other Agents. At the very least I was able to teleport there and back, but even so the trip ate into my afternoon nap and I was grumpy for the rest of the day.
A fifth cough brought me back to reality just as I was beginning to nod off. I knew what would come next if I stayed asleep. They slowly add more agents with orders to stand there awkwardly while I tried to sleep. When you have the ability to automatically sense every brain wave of every living being within 100 meters, having them that close to you is beyond annoying.
I finally gave in and slowly peered out of my blanket fort. There were already 2 of them in there. I hadn’t even noticed the 2nd come in. I fumbled for my glasses and slid them on.
Ah…
It was the chief, I mean The Chief. Whenever anyone in TF says it it sounds like they are capitalizing it. He is one of the few people I can’t read, or even sense. When I stare at him its as if there is simply an empty space where he should be, and if I stare long enough I forget that he was there.
Until he speaks.
I jolted to full wakefulness and gave a limp salute. “Good morning, sir.” The ‘sir’ wasn’t normal for me but last time I referred to him as ‘dude’ he simply stared at me until I squirmed and appended the appropriate honorific.
-Good morning Seeker- he replied mentally, using my Foundation name. -I assume you slept well-
He ‘spoke’ with no intonation or punctuation. If I remembered correctly he did so because he was among the most powerful tele-empaths in the world. Even a little bit of emotion from him could strongly affect the feelings and thoughts of those around him. To prevent this, he maintained perpetual neutrality in emotion, and avoided speaking unless absolutely necessary, since spoken word could often reflect internal emotions.
I gave a weak nod in response to his… well it wasn’t really a question was it.
-I believe we spoke about this Seeker- He continued. - Sleeping is no crime but excess of any kind can be considered dangerous amongst being such as ourselves- He turned to leave the room. -Now ready yourself there is much work to be done-
The black suit left shortly after him and I was sorely tempted to flop back into the welcoming bed, but a visit from The Chief generally left you feeling restless, so I rolled off of the bed and started my day.
========================================
My job as Guardian of the Foundation is a bit odd, but definitely more along the sort of work that I prefer. Where other field agents complete various tasks from assassinations to intelligence gathering, I simply sit in a room specifically created to amplify my powers with a notepad and look for a specific type of brainwave.
You see The Foundation is completely illegal. Not only that, it is never been heard of. You might wonder how how it is possible to run a business when you’ve never been heard of by your clients. Well thats where I come in. Whenever anyone in this hemisphere who thinks about something illegal and the use of ESP gets tracked by me, and after a while they meet a man in a black suit who makes them an offer for the specific job that they want done. Of course there is more to it than that: I scan each clients future once we decide to contact them and then see whether they plan to or will let slip that we exist and if so they simply aren’t contacted. Initially we just did a partial memory wipe, but when you can’t remember why you are missing, oh I don’t know, about 5 million dollars, you start asking questions.
Well anyway back to my job. I sit here with a notepad and write down names. At least thats what I’m supposed to do. I found out that using telekinesis I can just do it all automatically while asleep. And for this I get paid more than 2 million a year.
Pretty good deal eh?
Today started off the same as usual. I slept and when I woke up I saw the pen still scribbling away at the notepad. I gave it a quick perusing and froze. After rereading the name I slowly and deliberately tore the paper directly above that name and crumpled the paper up into a ball, popped it into my mouth, chewed and swallowed. For good measure I tore out four additional pages and ate them. I then copied the paper over to the note pad and ate the original, just in case. I left the pen on the table and took the notepad with me. Even despite my precautions I could see the threads of my future steadily burning away until only a few remained.
Most of them ended in my death.
If only I hadn’t seen that name. A very familiar name.
My name. | 2016-09-21T21:55:20 | 2016-09-21T20:30:59 | 137 | 36 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | Flames whirl in a red and purple maelstrom. A middle aged woman falls backwards out of her seat. Her four children finally stop their roughhousing, entranced by the fire. Two teenagers with fake eyelashes, fake nails, and fake fur coats replace their fake smiles with very real screams. A would be hero gets up and tosses a coke into the fire, of course it has no effect. Several people run for the door. You stare through the flames in front of you, although they are mere inches from your face the don't burn at all.
You get glances of someone on the other side of the whirlwind, whose face flickers between a hideous tentacled visage and the smiling face of the cashier you ordered from a moment before. There seems to be something moving in the middle of the blazing tornado but you can't make it out. The colors of the fire are truly beautiful, and mesmerizing. The flames die down slightly allowing you to make out a stone plinth in the center, slowly rising up out of the floor. On top are three small objects. A cylinder, which angles out from the base at an eldritch angle. A box, similar devoid of right angles. And something round, sinisterly flatter than a normal ball. The plinth rises up to eye level, the suddenly stops and the flames immediately die away. Sitting on top of a dread-inspiring stone plinth, carved with terrible runes and engravings of torture scenes, is the Coke, Fries, and Burger you asked for. The cashier wipes a stray tentacle off his face and says,
"Next time you can just order in English." | "oh, I'm sorry, I actually don't understand you. I have a condition that only allows me to speak your language, not understand it."
"what? So... You're not here to destroy this reality?"
"yeah, sorry, don't understand a word. You would not believe the issues it causes"
"thats good because I'd have to kill you"
"can I just order?"
"yes sir, sorry about that, what can I get you?" | 2018-06-24T21:21:58 | 2018-06-24T21:11:48 | 79 | 39 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | I'm gonna be honest, I was a little disappointed. I mean, I'm no fighter or anything, much less a hero, but I don't know.....I just thought something more, well, *interesting* would happen.
Maybe I'd be given some magical armour and sword, and all kinds of crazy powers and knowledge would just be absorbed into me, then I'd kick the Dark Lord's ass and be some awesome warrior.....but, apparently all I've gotta do is click this one button. Like, no joke, that's it. Straight from the mouth of the grand Priest himself, push the button, and save the universe.
So, I pushed the button, like anyone else would....and that's it. No big explosion, or anything crazy like that. Just push the button, and the world is saved. I bet the Dark Lord is pissed, being defeated by some button...... | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 949 | 85 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | I really like this prompt. I may have gotten too wordy with my response.. but here goes!
TL:DR - Aliens get effed up.
\---
Having survived hundreds of skirmishes along the political fault lines of the Interstellar Confederation, The One Who Chews Loudly did not pay much mind to the whining of the Human contingent commander that had parked his ships near Chews Loudly's new outpost.
"Our people have declared for this world, it is ours now" Chews Loudly growled into his ship's translator. Or rather, that was the gist of his body language and gestures - the age old method of delivering threats among his predatory species - We of Tooth and Claw.
"The Earth Colonial Commission will defend the sovereignty of Human space, and the sanctity of Human life. This was made clear decades ago upon our acceptance of the Interstellar Concord and our entry into the Confederation. We will not tolerate belligerence. This is your final warning."
Chews Loudly scoffed internally. Human posturing had worked for a time, but no longer.
They had threatened when ships neared them, had fired warning shots, amassed fleets when forces neared. They'd shown a willingness to fight none had anticipated from them. Always bringing greater numbers to every engagement than the opposing side had. Always out posturing their opponents.
But the joke that is Humanity had now come to light. It had been decades of posturing, and no real action. Humans had made it clear they wanted to avoid fighting at all costs. Where another Confederation species would have destroyed a smaller force once in a while, just to make a point, Humans were happy just to threaten - even when they had the advantage.
"Thin hides, jelly bones and not a single sharp tooth or claw between them." Had become a popularly quoted line from a famous Xenologist of the turtle-like *Agma*. A ferocious member species of the Confederation.
"Prey" Had recently become the most popular category for Humans among He Who Chews Loudly's own people.
Most member species of the Interstellar Confederation were now of the opinion that it was only a matter of time before human territories were invaded. The humans were expected to flee, as all other prey species did.
The Confederation had encountered prey species before. They had not been so sharp tongued as the humans, had not threatened or postured. They always fled. Fled so far from the Confederation that it became inconvenient to pursue them. Humans were expected to do the same when faced with actual aggression. Their posturing was just for show, according to the experts of most Confederation species. A mimicry of the Confederation species' own, legitimate approach to diplomacy. Smoke and mirrors.
Unlike the powerful species of the Confederation, who constantly vied for territory and influence by engaging in skirmishes and shows of dominance, the Humans seemed to want only peace. They had initially engaged in trade and other interactions with the Confederation species, but had ended those encounters every time a skirmish seemed on the horizon.
Unlike the Confederation species, humans had not evolved as the predators of their world. They had survived their early years on Earth by hiding and fleeing from their predators. With intelligence came the tools to scare those predators away. Tools like fire.
But their instinct to run and hide was still deeply ingrained within them. It was a part of them. And Chews Loudly's people planned to use that to their advantage before any of the other species could.
"We welcome your attack." Gestured Chews Loudly, knowing they would do nothing. Knowing they would eventually flee. Knowing this was the nature of weak species. And then he spoke directly, vocally.
"Our leaders know what you are. They know you are weak. We, and all the species of the Confederation are coming to devour you. Your people. Your worlds. Flee now human."
The commander of the human contingent was silent. The translator communicating his facial expressions as much as his words to Chews Loudly. The human creature was baffled, angry, nervous, and yes - afraid. Just as Chews Loudly expected. Just as the experts had predicted.
Suddenly, the humans severed the connection with Chews Loudly's sub-fleet. This was it. The moment when everything changed, and this upstart civilization of weaklings and prey would begin their long flight as Chews Loudly's people and the fleets of the other species chased them out of Confederation space, taking for themselves the worlds the Humans left behind. Chews Loudly would go down in history for this.
And to think, all they had to do was put up a fight now and then, and they would have earned their place.
Chews Loudly smirked to his sub-commander. It was time to hunt. His command holo lit up with the powering up of the ships in his sub-fleet as they prepared to chase down the fleeing human ships. His own ship, "Dinner is Served", powered up along with them. He reveled in the deep thrumming of the engines. The low growl of readiness.
And then... light.
Fold space horizons lit up the space ahead of Chews Loudly's ship. It was as though the very sun had gone supernova. An ocean of brilliant white light flooded the bridge of his ship, blinding him and the rest of his crew.
And in his blindness, he heard the screams. Bridge crews screaming into the sub-fleet communication network before they were unceremoniously cut off as their ships were turned to star dust. As his vision returned, Chews Loudly noted that more than half his sub-fleet had been wiped out, according to his command holo.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?! WHO IS ATTACKING US?" He screamed out to his bridge crew.
"The Humans, commander! Those are human vessels. **Millions** of them." His sub-commander replied as he frantically entered commands into his station.
*Millions!?* Why would they send millions for *one world.* Why would they commit such resources to a skirmish. A single affront? They needed only to engage in the diplomatic dance of the Confederation. This was something Chews Loudly had never before seen. Had never before *conceived of*. It was a total commitment of forces. He did not know what to do other than flee.
He did not have time to bark an order to flee. He didn't have time to think any more thoughts either. The last thing he noticed on his command holo before the Dinner is Served was destroyed was the descent of thousands of blips toward the planet. Every blip had a tag next to it. Every single blip was a nuclear device.
\---
PART 2 IN THE COMMENTS - I HIT THE MAX LOL. Ps - please let me know your thoughts. How am I doing? What can I do better? | On Yari there lives a small species of furry animal. It looks cute and it does anything possible to avoid conflict. It will run, it will burrow, it will climb, it will even play dead. But corner it and it will bite you. Teeth that have no problems punching through scales and saliva that will kill you in 10 minutes and you will hurt all of them. Lasson couldn’t help but think of those critters as he watched planet burn around him. First warning about attack was when their meteorites entered the atmosphere and started to glow as a result. Air friction burned away their laser absorbing material coating making them at last visible to orbital defences. But much, much too late. Lasson had an amateur interest in alien biology and he knew that in distant past meteorite strikes on planets caused massive extinctions, upsetting balance of life. As sentient species clawed their way out of gravity wells that bind them to their planets of origin such events were prevented by network of orbital stations tracking vastness of space.
It was those humans. When Sakissa first encountered them they were subject of much mirth and amusement. By standards of any species they were primitive. They shouldn’t even be among the stars. Their technology was so different Sakissa scientists had trouble understanding how it even worked. Rather than phase in and out of Void their ships somehow folded time and space, entering the fold in one point the leaving it at different point yet for them it was somehow same point and no time passed at all. One scientific team managed to get hold of one of their machines and results…… were not pretty. Scientists’ bodies looked as if they were disassembled and then reassembled by a child. Ship was ordered to be destroyed and any further experiments banned.
But their technology was standard and easy to grasp compared to their philosophy. Coexistence? Peace? Cooperation? Space faring sentients always fought for advantage. War was seen as natural, as a way to weed out weak members of society so only best survived. Humans developed a concept of “evolution”, a process that allows species to grow through conflict and adaptation. It suited the way things were. It should have been a big warning, humans understood conflict, strife and survival, they saw themselves as product of it, even if they saw it as something they moved past. Conflict between sentients was never fight to the death and end result was minor change in borders or other concessions. Strength through conflict. Humans….. were different. They avoided conflict at all cost, preferring to reach a mutually acceptable agreement than to fight it out and see who lives and who dies. They valued every life, small, large, strong, weak, sick, their own, something that they’ve never seen before ….. They had special connection to not only their own ill but to ill of every species, sentient or not. It was….. wrong. It was seen as sign of weakness and something that will cause their ultimate ruin.
As things usually happened Council decreed War. Humans have established themselves on some small system. 3 planets orbiting a sun with a lot of space garbage floating around. Barely habitable and by no account desirable. But Council saw it as opportunity to test themselves and Humans. Humans reacted predictably. Offered to talk, offered to negotiate, offered to find a peaceful solution. Things went well at first. System was quickly invaded, human settlements targeted and bombed, followed by mopping up. Or what was supposed to be mopping up. Once landing troops secured a perimeter and started to advance humans dropped two of their strange devices from orbit. It was believed they drew their power from splitting of the atom, another one of strange ways Humans laughed at established principles of technology. Nobody laughed at results with landing perimeter destroyed with few survivors. Of course Humans were eventually defeated, they were after all, weak and outnumbered.
Their response was not long in coming. Their Leader, broadcasting from their home world was brief and to the point. “We did not seek this conflict and we did everything in our power to avoid it. We offered to find peaceful solution in order prevent unnecessary bloodshed on both sides. We did not start this conflict but we will finish it. When dust settles those who have struck us, killing thousands of innocents will rue this day. Fellow citizens, I make no false promises that it will be easy or that there won’t be more deaths, more suffering or that war will be short. But I make solemn wow that we will not stop, we will not lay down our arms until lives lost are avenged manifold. May our call be “To final victory!” “
Lasson was part of Planning Commission, deciding on next targets. Commission was meeting when alarms started blaring followed by explosions that felt like world was ending. Which in many ways it was. Lasson was under no illusion, he knew that in next couple of days majority of life on planet will be gone. Five massive impacts threw so much soil in the air that it blocked the sun. Initial reports spoke of massive fires across settlements, impossible to put out. It got worse. Repetitors scattered through the Void allowing for as close to instant communication as possible carried messages of such attacks happening near simultaneously throughout Sakissa space. Humans must have planned this for a long time, capturing meteorites, equipping them with primitive engines, coating them in materials that made them impossible to detect and placed them everywhere. Where they silently and patiently waited for command to hurl themselves at nearest planet.
Humans introduced Sakissa to the concept of evolution. Lasson didn’t know that Humans were about to introduce them to another concept. Genocide. | 2019-11-24T14:44:35 | 2019-11-24T14:30:45 | 156 | 103 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | "Wait, wait," he interjected. We generally agreed to call all of our
alien visitors "he", they didn't really have a specific gender, and
the galactic translators they'd given us apparently rendered other
pronouns as veiled insults. Still, it felt a bit weird calling the
3-foot tall, 5-legged tower of squishy rings _any_ gender, but we
dealt.
"Wait, wait," he said, "Where is the regulator?"
I looked him in the eye -- the xenobilogists assured me these guys have what
amounts to eyes, located on the second-from-the-top ring. Apparently
the whole thing was an eye! They could see 360 degrees around
themselves.
I looked him in the eye and was about to ask him what he meant
he continued, "You are using **uranium** in this reactor! Where's
the regulation lattice?" he clarified.
My expression must have confused him, because he repeated himself,
much slower, "The. Regulation. Lattice."
"I, .. uh. The what?" I asked.
At this point, I'd thought I'd seen and experienced most things in
life. I mean, I was giving an **alien** a tour of one of our newest
nuclear reactors. 5 years ago, I would've told you that aliens were
a myth, and I would never have dreamed I'd see the inside of any sort
of reactor, much less the world's latest and greatest. I'd come a
long way, and I'd seen and done a lot of shit in my life.
Until now. Now I have seen what a 3-foot tall stack of squish circles
that occasionally -- for lack of a better word -- _splurk_ a weird
slime that evaporates within seconds from between their rings... well,
I've seen what that looks like when it's both terrified and astounded
in a single instant.
He blurted out, "You don't even know what that is!"
I shrugged and tried to make myself look a little less idiotic, "I
admit, reactor design isn't my background--"
"How to you prevent runaway reactions!" he ask-shouted at me.
I knew this one! "The reactor is designed to constantly pump coolant
through the system and distribute any excess heat.." He interrupted.
"Yes, yes, but how do you stop the runaway reactions? Have you
created something like the lattice?"
I had no idea how to even begin to answer that. I looked behind me
to one of the plant scientists that'd been following along silently,
in askance. He srugged, indicating he didn't know what the hell this
thing was on about.
I fell back on that old diplomat training, "I'm sorry, but I just
don't understand what you're asking. Are you asking if melt down is
possible?"
He paused for a moment, making noises and motions the translator
simply translated in a generic system voice as, "Native profanity.
Native profanity. English does not have a concept to represent this
notion. Native profanity."
"This is dangerous! Why are we here!" finally made it through the din
of squawks, juicings, and other juvenile sounds.
"This is the safest nuclear plant humanity has ever designed," I said,
trying to remain both calm and reassuring, "There is minimal risk of
a runaway reaction--"
Again he cut me off, "'Minimal'! We'll all die here! The lattice is
supposed to permeate the fuel and control the reaction at the--"
Again, the translator used it's generic system voice here and inserted,
"English does not have a concept to represent this notion."
"--level," he finished.
Again, I looked over at the scientist, who again shrugged. Apparently,
his translator was just as useless. I decided to play the diplomat,
"We don't really know what you're talking about, but we'd love to
learn... perhaps our guys can talk with your guys?" I asked, nodding
toward the scientist that'd been until now silent.
Our alien friend waggled what appeared to be a giant boob atop his
stack of rings, a gesture I'm told is akin to nodding. "Excellent,"
I said, "Shall we continue the tour?"
"I would much rather relocate several days travel from this death trap,"
he said.
| "I am who I am."
I hear the strain in my voice, it's embarrassing. I stir the ice cubes in my lemonade to try and break the tension. The spoon clinks against the glass.
"I'm not... I'm not dumb. I'm pretty sure I understand the context here, of what you're asking. The fact that you're speaking English gives me some clue, too. But what else can I say?"
Out of habit I poured my guests some of the freshly squeezed lemonade too. But rings of moisture have since started to form under their three glasses on the table between us. Now that I think about it, they haven't moved since I started talking. What do they want?
There are two *or* three of them. It's hard to tell them apart. Their figures move together constantly, like water suspended in the air. And their hues shift between shades of red or blue or purple, depending on how the light hits them. It's strange to look at, it feels almost romantic.
"You asked me how I got here. Ok? I didn't make that up, right?"
They vibrate softly up and down. I hear their voices in my head.
"Right... So like before, as a human, I assume I can speak on behalf of all humanity. At the very least we can try and have a productive conversation, from one species to another, before the government finds you."
A quiet chuckle forces its way out of me. Am I on the right track? Sips of my lemonade helps.
"Well no one knows if God made us or by some evolution we got here, but we've definitely made some progress. We got books, electricity, internet, obviously all of this helps. We're working our way towards Mars I think, not sure when it'll happen, soon I hope, I -- you've heard of Mars right? It's nearby, relatively."
Frustrated cows start mooing loudly out back. I take another sip and move to the window in my kitchen. Poor Bessy, Wilbur, and Rose, I can't blame them for getting riled up. A giant floating spaceship has taken up a large portion of their pasture.
Staring at their spacecraft out my window I can't think of what else to say.
"Look we are who we are and I am who I am! I've tried to be friendly, but. I'm sorry but you'll have to give a little more if you want me to be more -- "
Ice cubes fall onto my lips from the glass I have raised, all the liquid is gone. I grab the pitcher off the counter and pour myself some more, then return to the living room.
But they're gone. The like-water in the air is no longer there, the dazzling shades of red and blue and purple have disappeared.
I rush back to the window in my kitchen. There it is, lifting off into the sky. The cows get knocked over from the windy escape.
I sit on the couch behind where they once floated and take a sip of my lemonade. It doesn't taste the same. It feels... my heart is almost broken.
I notice the empty coffee table in front of me with three rings of moisture seeping into the wood.
Well, at least they liked the lemonade.
| 2017-03-09T21:52:03 | 2017-03-09T16:52:29 | 1,110 | 129 |
[WP]An advanced alien race took a peaceful group of primates from a paradise world and put populations of them on increasingly dangerous worlds. After 10k years, they revisit to check results. The last planet on the list is an unpredictable blue marble, 3rd from its star, with deadly everything. | ---DATA LOG: STARDATE 52.CE4-(9)---
The Collection is ecstatic to have found such creatures. Non-sentient, but wonderfully vibrant in reaction to stimuli--and delightfully adaptable. A perfect species to study evolution of Deathworld hyperbeasts, which have proven aggravating to control in a laboratory setting. Jevin and I have selected 9 worlds for seeding, from low to high Deathworld status:
1. Ganglie-G9
2. Neraste-N5
3. Geratte-N2
4. Kepler:348-N1
5. Kepler:186-D9
6. Cygni-D7
7. Cancri-D5
8. Pegasus-D3
9. "The Blue Marble"*
We begin seeding the planets on Stardate 54.CE4-(9), and plan to finish by 54.CE4-(99). It is a wonder that it will be Stardate 54.DE4-(9) before we will know the final results of exposure to the weakest G-class minor Deathworld, and 54.DE4-(99) before we know if the furred quadrupedal creatures are capable of adapting to a planet almost as inhospitable as space.
Long after we perish, the work we have started will continue. My pincers clack with the sound of many slow waves this day. Long live the Collection, and may it endure to see the end of this research project.
(* Note: "The Blue Marble" is known more for it's nickname than its actual name, Sol-D<1, which is why it is denoted as such. Due to the high atmospheric pressure, gas concentrations, flora and fauna, radioactivity....well, referencing it by calling it the same name as our deadliest toxin is quite more fitting than "Sol-D<1")
---DATA LOG: END---
---DATA LOG: STARDATE 52.CK5-(50)---
I am now an old, old crustacean, and can now fully realize and detail the horror of what my colleagues and I have done. We were grinning, giddy, *excited* executioners of fellow sentient life.
We did not check thoroughly enough.
The spark of intelligence, of recognition, was there. As I checked the last pod on Stardate 54.CE4-(99), I felt it, felt *them* staring, accusing. I ignored the feeling, deeming it irrational--after all, they were *primates*--non-sentients to a T. The longer I have thought, the longer I have been left with nothing in my carapace, a hollow husk. They were sentient. And we killed the only ones we had.
The last sentient life to exist on a minor G class Deathworld lasted less than (2). In and out of existence in a flash, consumed by the very planet which it emerged from a meteoric womb onto. Sentients do not survive Deathworlds. It is known, and it is true. Forgive me. Forgive us.
Please, after the quarantine shield has lifted, and we can again observe the planets, find a body or a bone, or some kind of remnant and honor it.
Honor it so we never make this mistake again.
---DATA LOG: END---
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:STARDATE 54.DE4-(99)***///
So far so good for the Collective; scans didn't pick up any of our "projects" running around or otherwise on any of the other Deathworlds. Except Neraste-N5, that was sad. Poor creatures got dropped right into an ancient river, and were buried beneath the silt--cept unlike us, they don't do that to mate. They die when they do that. Preserved em' mighty well though! Perhaps we can finally make the ol' mans dying wish come true and build a monument. Or we could clone them and do it all again using synchronized DNA sampling from Lightconstruction of the body and its systems, now that we have a few. M'gthbble just hit me for rambling so much. It's not like we even need to save data like they did 10,000 freakin' years ago. Anyways, we are working on the quarantine field. Looks like it actually intensified the heat on the planet while it was up after interacting with some strange inorganic chemicals. Whatever--I'll send another update soon. G'thlib out.
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:END***///
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:STARDATE 55.DE4-(1)***///
Watery shit, they survived. ON BLUE. FUCKING. MARBL--LITHODIDAE DIDN'T DIE FOR OUR SINS SO YOU CAN BE SUCH A M'GT*BITCH*, I KNOW THIS IS A GOVERNMENT CHANNEL.
*Cordially* requesting research support from the Collective, First Officer G'thlib.
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:END***///
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:STARDATE 55.DE4-(3)***///
I'd apologize for my earlier outburst if what we were finding wasn't totally, undeniably, paradoxically IMPOSSIBLE. The primates our forefathers dropped here are now bipedal, hairless, and look kinda like those creeps on LV-223, except super small and skinny. Yuck, hope they don't have anything to do with this.
Anyways, they have turned "The Blue Marble" into "Their Blue *****" ********!* Turned on the filter huh, M'Gthbble. "It's unprofesshunallll" but it gets the Lithodidamn point across. The Bipedals have built their own environment across 51% of the abovewater land on the planet. They have incredible technology for existing on a Prime Deathworld. But get this: they don't appear physically threatening, but literally every other Hyperbeast on Sol-D<1 avoids them (except for one, perhaps the most frightening furred creature I have ever seen that is as white as the foam spewing from the mouth of a a slowly drying member of our species, and far more likely to kill you than drying will. *In the background:* (Shut up, M'Gthbble. It's called wordplay, clip a word string sometime)
They kill each other constantly, refuse to share, willingly empower terrible leadership, and then take a deep breath of an extreme radical to act as a catalyst for their little internal combustion engines which they unknowingly created from some poor prokaryote trying to infect them when they first got here, based on the data. Besides their ability to run at things till their prey die from exhaustion, besides their class 1 stomach acid, besides their crazy critical thinking skills, they have just one weakness: they actually do seem to exhibit emotion. They care for eachother, and some even seem to care that they are destroying their Iron Maiden of a cradle. They *befriend* other Hyperbeasts, or control them.
I could go on, but let me sum it up for you: The Planet Is Literally Dying Because Of These Little Freaks. They Are Killing A Deathworld. I recommend we either make them into sci-fi horrors, indoctrinate them, or kill them off, because I don't see us surviving a meeting with them. So help us Lithodidae if they find a way to travel in space besides semi-controlled explosions. They are the ultimate Hyperbeast, and if they decide they don't like their creators, we will eventually go extinct.
Silence all of our transmissions. Let us recede to the darkness of space. We cannot rightfully stop what we started, and we cannot let them become what the destructive force they have the potential and path to be. We must wait, watch, and hope they never find us.
Respectfully (For perhaps the first time in his life! *Shut up, M'Gthbble. Shut up.*),
First Officer G'Thlib of the Nautilus
///***TRANSMISSION LOG:END***///
| "Approaching Planet E-666-3.
Level of Toxicity: High
Planetary code: Abyss
Proceed with Extreme Caution"
The on-deck computer had been saying that for the last 50 light-years. The captain knew it was necessary but it was getting annoying. He was stressed enough. He had been awake and on the bridge for the last 100 light-years. He knew the danger. The fear in the through out the ship was palpitable. The was no reaon to have a constant reminder of impending danger every quark-tar. But there was also no way to disable it.
The Captain, Cpt Ctrere Hglu, was well a decorated captain under the command of Admiral Jwahk Bgul (of no relation). He was a slender and lean Ragmorph, with multiple eye slits running horizontially down his elongated face. Each one of his eyes could see different frequencies; visible light, solar radiation, gamma radiation, sound waves, ultra-violet, infared, gravitational direction, etc. All were open for this voyage. He could leave nothing to chance here. He had heard too many stories. Knew too many lost on previous voyages to not use the utmost caution.
With three of his eyes he watched his crew. His chief navigations officer had taking the helm with little persausion. He was Lith-reqi, gelatinous mass that could extend and retract it's form as needed, which made him one of (if not the most) qualified to fly this ship.
Next was he peered through 6 layers of carbon and graphite asteroid of the ship to find his chief engineer. She was a Nmvew, small and stout and covered in thick spindly hair. She was a spunky and, at times, frustratingly optimistic one that liked to have a good time. But not for this trip. This time she was fierce and direct. She left nothing unchecked. She was scared.
Finally, there was his chief of energy, a large, undefined glow. He was the offspring of a star, which rarely got involved with lesser smaller beings, but this one was young and had heard of the voyage and decided to tag along. It seemed though that he was starting to regret the decision as it sensed how thick and rising the concern was on the ship. So much so that he thought it necessary to plug himself directly into the generator to provide more power.
"Approaching Planet E-666-3.
Level of Toxicity: High
Planetary code: Abyss
Time of Arrival: 20 light-years
Proceed with Extreme Caution"
'20 light-years! How in the Universe's Might did we get that close!', screamed Ctrere in his head.
'Orders', came another voice. This was from his first mate and chief communications officer. She was Psychui, and damn good one. She had an open line of communication with every mind on the ship with little to know permission required which was rare for her kind. She could get a message out faster and more efficiently than most current comms devices on the the best ships. She sat, waiting to direct.
Ctrere breathed. Possibly the last bit of good breathable vacuum left before there ultimate approach. He straightened and gave his commands.
"Divert main power to shielding. I don't want an anti-quark getting through that shield. Auxilary power to maintaining vacuum pressure throughout all essential parts of the ship. Draw from any unnecessary cells like bunks, mess hall and nursing." He knew the doctor wouldn't like that but there were more pressing things right now.
"Approaching Planet E-666-3.
Level of Toxicity: High
Planetary code: Abyss
Time of Arrival: Imminent
Proceed with Extreme Caution"
"Convert shield to stealth. I don't want to get hit by their bi-polar star!" Ctrere had heard rumors that their star was a juvenile and undisciplined start that liked to cover it's planet with an unprecedented amount of radiation. More than then habitable limit. That was probably why it was banished to this section of the Universe.
"You have arrived at Planet E-666-3.
Level of Toxicity: High
Planetary code: Abyss
Proceed with Extreme Caution"
Everyone stopped and stared at the planet. An unnatural and nauseating mixture of the most unpleasant colors on the seeable spectrum. Some races would faint and expire if they even looked at it. Ctrere was starting to feel woozy but help himself together as he prepare for the jetson pods.
He and his ground commander, a gargantuant behemoth known for his thick and unyeilding hide, suited up and headed into the pod. Ctrere knew his Psychui would not be able to receive live transmissions from the planets service so he called for Protocol E-666-3. If he was not back in 9 thara-mines, they were to abandon him for dead and move on.
The jetson launched and they flew to the surface, terror swelling with the approach! What would they find? Would they even make it down? More importantly, would they make it back?
The jetson landed silently on brown patch surrounded by towering monoliths shrouded in green protrusions. They did one final check on the their suits (this would be at least the 6th time) and stepped out. They were met with a weighty atmosphere and pounding light. Nothing could survive here. They wouldn't be able to last much longer themselves. But then they heard a noise. Ctrere turned, all eyes wide to see whatever it was!
He couldn't believe it... Life. Actual life. It was small and frail looking. It was smaller than an average Yugoth but bigger than a W-97. It moved by pushing it's appendages against the toxic ground and stepped forward. Ctrere couldn't make sense of which way was up to it or down, he could only assume that the small oddly shaped extension pointing up was how it directed itself. They didn't look like the primates they had left 10,000 years ago. They had changed into something new! Something harsh enough to survive these deadly conditions!
What was it? Ctrere was cursing himself now for not bringing his documentation officer. Time was running out though. They had less than a thara-mine to get back before they were both left. Plenty of time in normal circumstances but he didn't know how this planet handled re-entry. The best he could do was memorize the shape as best he could make sense and share it with his documentor. They funneled back into the pod and lifted off.
Re-entry was uncharacteristcally rough but they made, barely. He ran to the synchronization room to prepare his findings. He knew this wouldn't be the last time he would be seeing E-666-3. | 2017-11-28T07:35:50 | 2017-11-28T07:06:46 | 107 | 40 |
[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! | I woke up in a white room. I was in a hospital bed with tubes going in and out of me. My skin was pale and all of my dark spots were far more noticeable than before... Before what exactly? What did I do? Why am I here? My mind drifted back to my dreams and what they were. So crystal clear like replaying a video, yet foggy like old memories. My dreams were of pure fantasy, like traveling in outer space and conquering planets, to being a warlord and taking over nations, then there were the peaceful dreams of growing old with someone or staying young forever. There was nightmares of demons and monsters alike, where killing was the only way out. Others where I flew around invisible and saw my family.... MY FAMILY!!!! Where are they? I frantically look for a button to call someone and begin yelling ut of confusion and fear.
A few nurses come running in and begin. to calm me down until I can coherently talk. While being asked questions a nurse walks over to a nearby table and picks up a clipboard. She flips some pages before freezing and staring at the page. She then grabs her phone and scans the screen. She mumbles "How is that...wha...how..who are you?
I stare at her in confusion before familiar faces enter the room. My parents! I begin to smile and tear up as I see them. As the walk towards me the nurse grabs them and holds them back. "Dont go near him!" she shouts and the rest of the nurses back away.
My parents begin to shout and demand to know why. She then shows them her phone and as the screen lights up I can see their expressions drop. I nervously ask "What is it?" as the nurse frowns and slowly shows me her phone.
There, was my name, surrounding it is a gold outline. I remember what it is and what the gold meant. It was the ranking database that updates everytime someone turns 18. But why is my name on there? Im only 16... Suddenly things start making more sense as I piece together why im in that hospital and how long i've been there. Ive been in a come for at least 2 years of my life, maybe more. but all I know now is that im ranked 1# in something and it must be pretty bad.
I slowly scroll the screen up to see my rankings. I see hundreds of normal or strange ones like "Best at Basketball" or "How Many Melons Can Fit in Mouth" but then I begin to see a few gold ones outlined.
"1# Civilizations Conquered"
"1# Lifetimes Lived"
"1# Extraterrestrial Enslaved"
"1# Lives terminated"
The list went on and each one had a memory for it. But all these memories...I thought they were my dreams? | "The fucks a pokemon?"
The kid's voices was thick with the kind of yolk that had to be at least three generations inbred. She was a tall reed of a girl with long red hair tied into a ponytail, the color almost matched her farmers tan. She probably spent more time outside in one day than I would all week.
The system displayed people who were good at pokemon games? That seemed odd. Games like league and dota got clustered into one category - I myself was low on skill but high on salt - so shouldn't pokemon be with RPGs or something?
And how was this girl the best? Her mother probably called every system a Nintendo. I looked at her again. She was unattractive by any means. But - wait.
I saw the results for pokemon. There was only one name in the system. Misty Trainer. Curiosity drove me to click on her. Sure enough, it was her red hair and all and a half dozen rank ones sat next to her name.
All of the pokemon related.
All of them rank one of one.
There was Master, Trainer, Breeder, and more.
"Well, whatever. Come on Growlith let's go." Misty turned on her heel at her side was a dog-like creature with red fur and a mane. "Thing must be broken."
What the fuck?
A bing drew me back to the computer. I had a new rank. "#1 pokemon research 1/4"
Fuck being #765876 in biology that was a title I needed to keep or my name isn't Oak! | 2019-05-04T11:50:28 | 2019-05-04T11:11:17 | 139 | 81 |
[WP] Hydraulic Press Channel owner goes insane and starts crushing subscribers by kidnapping them, channel goes even more popular | It has been 13 hours since the last video was uploaded which has already grossed 17 million views and counting.
For those who are not interested in watching the video, let me briefly describe it for you. It consists of an elderly man, somewhere in his 80's, blinded and gagged. He is made to sit upright on a rocking chair, while he is trying to shout his lungs out. The guy meanwhile, is busy explaining how interesting it would be, to see the amalgamation of the rocking chair and the old man's bones once the crushing is complete. The sheer insensitivity with which he describes what a bummer it would be, should the man have a heart attack before the press comes down on him, is just appalling.
Before this, it was a woman who was similarly blinded, and gagged, but with an upturned kitchen sink over hear head.
In one of those videos, he claims that crushing a human, that too a reluctant one, is specially fun because it feels like crushing a teddy bear on the outside, and a barbie doll on the inside. That combined with the fact that usually the person under the press scared, as a result of which he gets a better, more dramatic "blood splatter", he feels, is what gets him those ginormous view numbers.
Apparently, the viewers, when questioned, don't feel it has gotten out of hand. Kidnapping subscribers one at a time, and putting them under the press, has consistently not only gotten him more views than any of his videos before, but has also attracted a slew of companies willing to pay top dollar for even a casual mention on the channel.
Strangely, even though a lot of people have registered complaints against the man, and there is an active manhunt for him across the country, the video updates have been regular. Youtube, has remained silent on the whole issue, as it argues along the lines that it is nothing but a mere facilitator of entertainment.
>The gun is never blamed for the death of a victim, the man who pulled the trigger is.
That's what the Youtube PR team his sticking to as a justification for letting the videos stay up. Moreover, one of the prominent figures in the online world, who does not wish to be named right now, believes that the hydraulic press channel is doing is nothing short of orchestrating the beginning of a renaissance period in online entertainment, that has long been stagnating with reducing user engagement numbers and the declining viewership numbers of traditional reality tv.
Between the incompetent authorities that continue to frantically search for this man, and the fanatical subscribers , who cant seem to get enough of the Hydraulic Press Channel, lies the conundrum, that is the question: What should you be worried about? What next? or Who's next? | Joey opened his eyes, squinting into the bright light. He couldn't remember much, only that he had been dragged out of bed, tied up, before some kind of smelly cloth was shoved against his face. His hands were still restrained; in fact, he couldn't move at all. His head was laying on some kind of support, but it was very uncomfortable. The metal dug into the spine of his neck.
His eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings. He immediately noticed a large metal cylinder above his head, pointed directly at his face. He recognized it as a hydraulic press - in fact, it looked exactly like the one he saw on Youtube.
He could not move his head, but he turned his eyes towards the left as far as he could. He saw a camera peeping through a glass wall.
He heard a familiar, Finnish-accented voice. "Welcome to Hydraulic Press Channel. Today, we have for yuo one-millionth subscriber. No button yet, coming later. We like to thank yuo for all your sooport." The Finn clapped his hands once. "Let's see!"
The press began to move. He could hear almost nothing over the roar of the machine. It was so much louder than he could ever have imagined. He desperately jerked his head from side to side, but it was no use. The press was almost upon him.
As the press snapped the cartilage in his nose, he heard Lauri say: "It's just prank, bro!" | 2016-05-19T00:38:12 | 2016-05-19T00:24:26 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | They watched in glee as the embers started catching and spreading. Slowly, but steadily, they encroached upon me, slowly burning me. However, it didn’t feel hot, more like a hot rock, much like the one I usually sleep on. The flames continue to catch on my clothes, and faces turn from rage to puzzle, and the repeated chants fall to silence.
I look at them, not cheerfully, not angrily. More just passive and I calmly say “is that all you got? Because I got a lot more than you if that is all.” As the words echo out into the courtyard, my wings sprout from my shoulder blades. My two, large, blue scaled wings, which block out the moon to all those watching.
“I am not easily angered” I continue, “and while you may not have angered me, you have definitely left me disappointed.”
The villagers stare in disbelief as more of my disguise falls. All the flames extinguish for a moment as lightning strikes a clear sky, and there I stand, a gargantuan blue dragon. As I appear, the flames reignite with a blue hue, spreading quicker and hotter.
“You said I would burn. You said I would die. You said I would scream. Now look at how the tables have turned!”
The flames start catching on houses. Everyone is panicking, guards are surrounding me and failing to poke through my thick, scaly hide. However, almost as quickly as they appeared, the blue flames vanished as I looked upon all the villagers.
“You have a week to prepare for my assault. And this time, you best not disappoint me with just fire.”
I flap my wings with extreme force, knocking many people over, and I continue into the night sky, disappearing like a flash of lightning.
The End (maybe, we’ll see)
Just my first attempt at writing something for this subreddit, hopefully someone enjoyed it. Honestly, when I wrote it I thought “is there any reason for a dragon ti get angry at this”?
Obviously, yes, being burned at the stake would be an insult, so I went with a dragon that was just disappointed that the humans couldn’t do more to hurt him.
Anyway, see you later | [Poem]
Fire fire burning bright
Set ablaze against the night
Pyre pyre tied to so tight
And roasting the flesh beneath
“Burn the witch!” a person cries
Wiping the soot away from their eyes
Looking at the women they did despise
And certainly did mistreat
Higher, higher the flames that grew
And licked her body, but she knew
That she was in no danger of burning through
Out the deepest darkest night
As large dark wings spread from her back
And the ropes broke with a snicker-snack
And the wood beneath her began to crack
And she turned to begin the fight
Claws and fire burned skin and flesh
Till the town breathed its final breath
And there was nothing but ashes left
And the last pitiful cries
So stop burning witches, and put down the torch
Put out the fierce flames that scorch
And definitely don’t just stand back and watch
Cause that could be the day the whole town dies | 2021-01-03T06:43:36 | 2021-01-03T06:15:32 | 38 | 25 |
[WP] Your door bell rings. It's a person from an alternate universe, who says, "I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it" | Losing a family member is never easy.
It is easier, however, when your Great Aunt Ruth who you only met when you were two years old passes away in her sleep from natural causes in her home in Wisconsin. Death is death, but some kinds are better than others.
I never had a Great Aunt Ruth. Sometimes I pretend I did, though. It's a lot easier that way, to forget about my mother and think of an imaginary old lady dying peacefully in her sleep.
Murder is too harsh a reality for a five year old. When dad suddenly comes to get you from school every day like mom used to, things are different...but nothing is really wrong if you don't know the truth. They always say ignorance is bliss, and so it is - at least until the veil of ignorance falls away. Age does that, you know. Innocence can be bliss, too, and it lasts until a certain age where you start thinking enough on your own to figure things out.
It was my twelfth birthday. I had spent the morning wishing my mom could be there instead of off traveling like she had been for so many of my birthdays before, and then it suddenly clicked. She was gone, and she was never coming back.
I lost it. I screamed, I threw things, I tried to hold my breath until I passed out. I wanted to die, too, then maybe things would be even.
When my dad walked in the door that afternoon, I was ready to attack him physically and emotionally. I was hurt and disillusioned, and nothing he could say would fix that.
But when he walked in the door, something was off. He knew I had figured it all out, and I knew that he knew. He slumped into the chair right across from me and just stared at me. I still remember the look he gave me - hollow and emotionless, the look of someone who had nothing left inside of him.
"Luke, your sister.." His words were barely words, a guttural moan that sounded like death itself. "My only daughter." He paused, forgetting I was even in the room with him as he folded into himself.
"There was an accident...drunk driver...car rolled...Oh, God."
I can't remember any other time in my life that I saw my dad cry. I wanted to comfort him, but I had nothing to say. I just sat there, motionless.
It was my eighteenth birthday. I wasn't surprised to hear he'd done it. That didn't keep the hurt away, but I knew my dad was only ever hanging on by a thread after my sister's death. At least he'd had the grace to wait until I was an adult. Kept me out of foster care, which I should be thankful for.
I'm not, though. Hearing the last of your family members blew his brains out in the middle of a crowded subway station will do that to you.
And so here I sit, writing this with my right hand as I hold my dad's prescription anti-depressant bottle in my left - still full from years earlier. Probably enough to take down an elephant, and it's not like I was ever a big guy anyway. So here goes - goodbye, world.
*The doorbell rings.*
*Luke looks up, thinks for a second, and lets the bottle of pills fall to the floor. Still clutching his pen, he walks to the front door and swings it open tentatively to find a stranger standing on the porch.*
*"Luke - I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character. I know how it ends, and I want to help change it."* | Waking up in the afternoon, I set about preparing for my next night shift. Cooking a late lunch, cleaning the house, reading the news. Everyday mundane stuff. Funny how my life has been a complete routine ever since I graduated with a degree years ago. As a child I always wanted to travel to Africa to see its wildlife. Stop the poaching of the white rhinos. Watch the cheetahs skim over the plains. All of that, gone, as the cold truth of reality crashed down upon my childish dreams.
4.50pm. Time to head out to work. Opening the door, I found a wide-eyed child right outside, gazing at me.
"Holy faeries it IS you! You're the Guide of a Roadless Path!"
Logic completely eluded me, as I stared back at him in confusion. "...what?"
"You're the hero that brought King Pate out when he was lost in the Forest of Fallen Giants! That volume was completely awesome! Oh!Oh! You also led the Warden to Lady Emma of the Brecilian Wastelands! And lest I forget, the chapter where you-"
Still confused, I looked around for anything out of the ordinary. This child was rambling on and on about mythical heroes and adventures. Placing a finger on his lip, I looked at him in the eye. "Ok kid, you've completely lost me now. Look at me, standard blues? Department Crest? Clearly not a person to lead kings around in wastelands. You've clearly got the wrong person. Now if you'll excuse me."
Motioning him to move aside, I stepped out of my house and began to lock the door. If there were any camera crew filming this down for some "only for gags" show, I'm having none of it. The child mumbled to himself, looking crestfallen.
"I just want you to know that you're my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it! You can't be happy with such a bland ending can you?"
I sighed. "Look kid, you may have time to role-play anytime. But don't bring adults into the mix yeah? We have work to do, and that's important. Go back home; I'm sure your mother has a nice warm cup of chocolate waiting for you."
He stood there, dumbfounded, as I walked to my car. After all, work's more important right? | 2014-11-10T17:49:25 | 2014-11-10T17:39:20 | 192 | 18 |
[WP] Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life. | Every twenty or so years I see you again.
Every twenty or so years, I fall in love with you, only to kill you.
I wish I could say I'm sorry but I can't.
I will never forget Katherine (The First)- with her pale, limp hair and her dark eyes: as dark as the night sky sprawled before us, endless as far as we could see, on our third date. I saw constellations but I could only think of how the freckles on her face lined up, and at that moment I knew she had to be The One.
I knew it was you.
And so that night in those fields beneath the crescent moon and all the stars we pledged our love to I killed you there and then.
I thought that would have been the end of it. I mourned you, of course- how I mourned! And how my heart ached at your absence- but whenever I kissed you, the idea of death clawed at the back of my throat, my windpipes filling up with spiders at the mere though of nothingness. Killing you was horrible, traumatic, but yet again freeing, to know that death will never have me in its grasp.
That was, until I saw you again, across the street, feather brown hair and dark eyes, always the dark eyes, and when my heart clenched tightly like a fist I knew it was you. You were different, always with different hair and eyes and shoulders and lips, but you were always You. And the spiders would return when you kissed me for the first time.
And from then meeting you was never the same place, and you would never die in the same way. Only sometimes. I met Elaine (The 8th) in Paris, and I watched her fall to her death from our window sill. I met Nora (The 12th) and her wild blue hair at the grocery store one town across, and she took her last breath in the ocean we moved next to.
Over the years, I have learnt many things about you. First, that every single version of you were in love with the cosmos, be it astronomy or astrology. Emma (The 11th) had tattoos of stars all over her body. Isabelle (The 5th) confessed that she had always wanted to explore space and see the planets for herself. You were drawn to it, like a moth to a fire.
Second was your trademark eyes: dark, curious, an endless and starless night. I had never needed this to recognise you, however: I have learnt with time that recognising you did not require any effort on my part. You would always return to me, as I did to you.
You (The 13th) of course too had those dark eyes, but your hair was almost white, and it hung above your shoulders limply, and so of course I had to bring you to that same field where I stargazed for the first time.
And you belonged to that field, in everyway, the way the moonlight lit up your hair and your white sun dress. And the world screamed this at me, that from the way your small hands were warm in mine to the way the wind tousled your hair gently: it was a sign, that this was right. The way the universe had meant it to be. And of course, like every other You that came before, you knew all along, didn't you? What was to come. Your lips briefly brushed my ear as you said, "Make it quick." Even with a blade pressed against your neck, you were gentle. Always gentle.
And then you would smile. Every single time you have known your fate all along, known me and my fear and the spiders I carry in my windpipes. And with the same cowardly heart, every single time I deliver this fate.
Every twenty or so years, as you would breathe your last, I would always promise that this was the last time. That I'd eventually accept my mortality and be with you. So this time, just like the thirteen Yous before you, you are no different.
I wish I could say I'm sorry but I can't.
| She was the fifth one in as many decades.
I had killed so many by this point they were mostly a blur - men, women, two-souls, so many varieties of soul mates that it seemed the gods were trying so hard to make me happy.
Only one thing made me happy - eternal youth and life. For that, she had to die.
I approached her in the coffee shop I had found her in as one would a farm animal unaware of its ultimate fate, and I could feel the gears of life grinding awake as the mechanisms of aging began anew.
"Hello, miss...?"
"Natalie Henshaw, and you?" she replied, her voice quivering with delight. She felt it too, the signs of soul-bonding, the Machinery of Life wakening within her.
I smiled, the same sad smile I always had.
"Henry David Jones, Jr."
She looked at me intensely, trying to glean information about me through sheer force of gaze, but the centuries had petrified my personality into a hard shell.
"You can feel it too, can't you?"
I nodded.
"I'm looking forward to getting to know you," she said, with a hunger I was surprised at. Generally my soulmates were timid, shy creatures, beautiful, pure, and naive. This Natalie seemed far less so.
"Let's leave this place and go somewhere more... private," I suggested, with a practiced confidence and ease. We left with our drinks in hand, walking down Jasper Avenue toward the funicular into the valley. It was a beautiful bright day out, leafy trees shading the middle of the street, sidewalks bustling with crowds.
"I feel so lucky, you know. None of my friends have found their soulmates yet, and here I am, with such a handsome young man, and only into my fifth decade!"
"Looks can be deceiving you know, but I don't think I'm too much older than you," I said, knowing I had in fact centuries on her.
I smiled along with the conversation as we made our way into the river valley, and with it ever closer to the small underground space I had made just for her.
"Come this way, I know an amazing spot to spend the afternoon," I said. I navigated the trails of the river valley and brought her to a deserted, secluded beach. The river was not fit for swimming, but the beach was beautiful and it was hidden from all sides.
She smiled at me wickedly when I turned to face her, and then I felt a sharp pain in my belly. I looked down and he hand was gripping the most unusual weapon, its design ancient and unnervingly beautiful. She looked at me with pity, as had so many times before myself.
"I'm sorry that you have to pay the price for me, but I don't want to age. You understand," she said.
I did. | 2018-06-09T05:19:40 | 2018-06-09T05:08:05 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone knows you're a half orc, but none of your team-mates ever ask what the other half of you is. That was never an issue before, but your other parent just showed up. | My adventuring crew weren’t bad people, I’d even call them friends. But they were raised on a lot of *assumptions* about half-orcs. You know how all the stories go. They probably figured they were doing me a favor never prying about my parents, and at some point it would have been really awkward to tell them.
Pliton is probably when that ship sailed, almost three years ago, when that job looking into that corrupt nobleman (but I repeat myself) went sideways and his goons captured Kodmor and Arasne. Playing dumb about his guard captain mysteriously showing up and ordering their immediate release pretty much sealed the deal on never telling them.
But now, it was unavoidable.
“Tanith Kethryl Dawnblossom,” the ‘evil high priestess’ of the death cult we were hired to eliminate shouted from the balcony above, and suddenly I knew why she turned on her followers and saved our asses. “Can you please ask your friends to lower their weapons?”
“Guys! She’s friendly!” They all uncertainly looked at each other until Kodmor lowered his axe and the rest followed. I awkwardly waved at her. “Hi, mom.”
“Hey, sweetie!” She relaxed, her face shifting from that of the high priestess to a much more familiar and gentle one, the face she most often wore when not disguising herself, and leapt over the railing to land like a cat. I ran ahead and picked her up into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too, mom. But what are you doing here?”
She let go and awkwardly glanced aside with a frown before answering. “I’m sorry about that. My *friends* have been watching this cult for a while. We weren’t quite ready to make our move, but then they tried to send you into a trap and we had to do something.”
“You could have warned us.”
“I suppose I could have. But this was certainly more fun, wasn’t it?”
I had to laugh. “Oh, you. Don’t ever change.”
She chuckled at our old running joke. “Your employer naturally won’t be paying you. So… take what you can use, and we’ll meet you at your camp around sunset to properly pay you and maybe properly catch up.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
And just like that she pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek and casually walked past with a wave. “Bye, sweetie.”
My friends were all completely silent until well after she was gone. Arasne finally spoke. “Dawnblossom?”
“Shut up,” I told her, but couldn’t hide my smirk.
“No, I think it’s cute, just… Dawnblossom. Pretty sure you’re required to at least let us see you shapeshift into an elf with a name like that.”
“Aye, and a dainty one, at that,” Kodmor added with a guffaw. | The dust settled as the engine died. The others shook nervously as the large, unhuman figure emerged from the truck. I rested my hand on Carls shivering, pale shoulder as I turned around to face the others who were slowly increasing their distance. I had to think of something rapidly as I have seen friends seize in fear in view of my father. "Vincent!" a gentle, deep voice exclaimed as a soft hand rested on my shoulder. "Perhaps you owe me some new patients!" the Orc chuckled. "I know y'all are afraid of me, but then again I'm a psychologist so y'all are justified." The others, still nervous continued to glare at the novelty in front of them. "I should warn you, you wont find a better one unless you go up north!" he said with a wink. "I guess Orc's are better trolls than trolls" Carl cringed. "This your dad?" "Yeah." The others were now curious, yet confused. "Did you play Football in college? I'd bet at least a dime that you'd be a great quarterback." Thomas laughed. "Well, I guess I was too busy playing with books, but I don't know what the SEC would do if I actually joined up, if I'm not careful I could be a one-man stampede!" Everyone was now laughing. "Well, if you'd like I can help y'all practice." he said with a wink. "Nah, we good!" everyone exclaimed laughing. I just stood nervously to the side as this happened, realizing that the Orc knew how to socialize better than I ever did. Charles-Louis, the Orc, a life dedicated to researching the human psyche, to better understand humanity itself. | 2020-07-22T18:07:57 | 2020-07-22T14:06:06 | 95 | 33 |
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original. | The dragonflies whirred through the long grass that stuck out of the pond. Two of them flew around where my bobber floated in the water, then buzzed off somewhere I couldn’t see.
My name is Moses, I like being called Moe. Currently, I was trying to fish out my dinner, but they just weren’t biting today. I hoped my father managed to wrangle up something on his hunt with my mom, whom insisted on joining him and that I tended camp. I was named after my great great great grandfather, who lived before the Name Wars. His was an uncommon name, but my parents liked it and named me after him. He was a survivalist, knowing a broad range of techniques for surviving in the wild, so I never had much of a problem. I was good with a bow, could cook almost anything, proficient at tracking and a myriad of other skills. Sometimes I wonder if that was the true reason my parents named me that.
I reeled in my line, “Nuts to this,” tossing my rod to the side with my bag, I grabbed my knife out of it. I stripped off my clothes and walked into the pond. It was cold. I could faintly see a school of fish swimming and I tread slowly towards them. “HA!” I shouted, plunging my knife into the pond, sticking two of them. I smiled.
Back at camp, I deboned and descaled them fish and chopped it up. I fashioned a medium sized fire and cooked the chunks on a pan over it. I always fell into thought, looking at the fire crackle under the food.
We came from the Boblands. My father, Bob, lived there since birth. Bob, the original Bob, was an almost mythical figure. He was, what they’d call “A jack of all trades.” Once the name game started, and people in turn could name there children after a specific person and that child would gain their attributes-well, Bob was the man everyone wanted to be. Why be anyone else, when you could be Bob?
Well, there were other people, it turns out, who wanted to be like similar “great” figures. Some named after Dave, the smartest man to live. Some after Harold, one of the great athletes. Women had their names as well, Rebecca was one of the great minds of her time, along with Beatrice, whom also succeeded in science and engineering. There was Cynthia, whom was their “Jack of all trades” equivalent of Bob. My mother’s name, coincidentally. Most Bob’s tended to marry Cynthia’s, only diverging on rare occasions. Turns out my parents didn’t want me to be just another Bob, and they didn’t want to live under the Great Bobs, so they got off the grid, and took me along with them.
I never understood the numbers game, how or why it happened, but I never questioned it. It was just how the world worked, and I had to accept being born into it. As a name that nobody has. My parents say it makes me unique. I think It makes me the loneliest man in the world.
“Something smells good,” I heard an unfamiliar voice say. It wasn’t my mother or my father. I turned around and saw a man brandishing a machete. “Hey kid.” We looked at eachother, frozen in time. I had my knife on me, but it was a farcry from a machete.
“What’s your name?” I asked with venom, “And what are you doing here?” He scoffed and grinned at me.
“What’s YOUR name? Not that it matters. I’m gonna take what I want here.” He replied.
“Dave,” I lied. I was always supposed to tell people I was a Dave. No names were worth quite a lot if captured by certain factions. The scoundrel cocked a brow.
“Pretty far from home, aren’t we Dave? You’re in the Bobland outskirts.” He walked a few steps closer. “Kind of young to be out here all on your own.” I gripped my knife.
“I’m not alone, actually. There are eyes on you now.” He stopped and looked around. He looked behind him and whistled. There were more of them now, walking through the brush. I tensed. There was a gun in the tent. I could grab it and kill all three easily. It was hidden in a hole under a mat, underneath my sleeping bag. I was always cautious.
“Drop the knife kid, we got you surrounded.” The other two started walking closer. “Throw it over here.”
“Okay,” I said, gripping the tip of the knife. With a quick flick of my wrist, I sent it hurtling towards the leaders face, and impaled him in the eye. While the two goons behind him stared in shock, I made a break for my tent. I heard them running after me as I threw up my sleeping bag and retrieved my gun. It was a rifle, and loaded, luckily. When I felt the first man trying to get into the tent, I pointed my gun at the entrance and fired at his silloute. Thump. One down. I heard the other one screech and run. I walked out of the tent with blood on my mind. If this one escaped, he’d just come back with more. I aimed carefully and shot his leg. He screamed.
“Agh! SHIT!” He cried, gripping at his leg. I walked over to him, and knocked him out with the butt of my gun. I’d let my parents interrogate him when they got back from their hunt.
After looting their corpses, and checking the living guy’s wallet, I found some identification.
“No Name Removal CO.”
These men were hunting me.
| Grok thought.
He thought about the baby he was having, he thought about the hedges he was trimming and the lawns she was mowing. he thought about the car he was driving and the road she was paving.
And he thought about names.
Such a small thing, yet it determined so much. Grok remembered his first life, two hundred thousand years ago, language had yet to be invented but his mother had made a certain noise to call him, and that had been his name.
He remembered hunting and killing and fucking, he remembered his first son and he remembered being his first father, he remembered the groups of himself that he organized to clear out the neighboring tribes, he remembered sharpening rocks to cut them with. he remembered the first time he saw fire.
He remembered his first death, when he realized that it wasn't just other people who could go away. and the frantic expansion that followed it as he killed everything within miles of him to preserve his own life. dying multiple times in the process.
He remembered Karg, the first dog he trained to help him hunt the others, each time Karg would have a child he would name him Karg, and he would be good.
It took him a bit to realize that the sound was what was important. that the children would not be him if he did not make the specific sounds that made his name. when he did he realized that there were other people, people who would try to erase his name.
So he built camps, fortified cave entrances and made weapons to help him kill the other-namers.
20,000 years he fought against the Klunks and the Roars. eventually killing all that remained within his borders. for 50,000 years he was happy, he lived on his land and he ate his fruit, just Groks and Kargs. he invented language, and writing, though they served little purpose for him they allowed him to communicate with Yilth traders.
After his 100,000th birthday Grok decided that he was tired of living alone. he negotiated with the Yilth to move thousands of Groks to the Yilth colony in East-Asia, where they would interact with each other, hesitantly at first and then more regularly. Grok got to know Yilth and Yilth got to know Grok.
One day Yilth shared something with Grok, he told him that he had discovered great wisdom, and that he wanted to share it with Grok. the Yilth called this the Scientific Method.
A thousand years passed, Yilth and Grok worked to discover the border of their knowledge. they expanded their territory to cover everything from one sea to the other. they created cars and trains that could move them faster than even the fastest Groks could run.
Soon they built something that allowed them to cross the sea, Grok did not believe there was anything else, but Yilth remained unconvinced. so they set off on boats, tens of thousands of them launched a year, each with at least one Grok and one Yilth.
And they discovered islands. beautiful gardens filled with fruits that Grok had never seen, and animals he had never thought of. the first time they discovered it Yilth pushed Grok into a volcano, and they laughed about it for centuries afterwords.
They found continents too, though there was no-one there. Grok prefered the southern parts while Yilth prefered the more northern climates.
Millennia passed, Grok and Yilth were happy. then they discovered space travel.
Grok and Yilth had known about the stars for a long time, but it was not until Grok invented a Telescope to see them better that they began to realize just how many there were. millions, billions, trillions of stars! and each had planets, just like theirs!
This worried Grok and Yilth. if there were other planets than did that mean there were other people? would they come and try to erase their names?
Grok didn't know. Yilth didn't either. they spent a century looking at the sky, wondering when the other-names would come down and destroy everything they had built. but none ever did.
They built ships, to try and go find the others before they found them, but their ships were slow and they decided that the stars were to numerous for them to find them that way.
So Yilth created a plan. if they could not go to the other-names, they could bring the other names here.
So Grok got pregnant, and gave birth to a child named AAAAAAAAA.
Do you know who you are? | 2017-04-07T11:20:49 | 2017-04-07T10:32:07 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] Upon his suicide Hitler will join the dead waiting to be ferried across the river Styx. The dead include the millions who died in WWII. You have been tasked with keeping Hitler safe until he can arrive for his final judgment. | "Yup, there he is again."
"At the back of the line?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't you supposed to protect him?"
"You try protecting him against 60 million souls."
"Don't you mean 6 million?"
"No. 6 million Jews died. but think of all the service men that died fighting in Europe, and every Russian, and Chinese who died as a result of Hitler starting his war. Adds up, and every single one of them wants a shot at the big H."
"Still, you're not even trying to keep him....alive..."
"Exactly. He's dead. Whats he gonna do? Die again? Every time hes ripped to pieces, he just shows up at the end of the line. Also, Jesus Christ this line is long. Why is there only one ferry, and they're only taking people one at a time?"
"I don't know, I didn't design this place. Seems like a huge oversight with all the people who die every day."
"Oh look, there he goes again. Some Americans spotted him. Oh god, that's gory. There's no weapons in the after life. They had to use their bare hands and...teeth."
"Wow, that is a fate worse than any judgement that can be passed upon him."
"Why do you think I didn't cut him to the front of the line?"
"You can do that?"
"Yeah, he was a special exception, but since the big guy hasn't gotten on my case about it, I don't see the harm. I mean, everyone is getting their revenge."
"I ...I almost feel sorry for him. How many times has this happened?"
"You think I can tell you the amount of times hes been torn to shreds over the past 71 years? Look, since we started this conversation, he's been killed 2... oh no...3 times, and we've been talking for what, 3 minutes?"
"One death every minute? That...do you have a calculator?"
"Sorry, afterlife."
"Wow."
"Its best we don't think about it." | Fucking hell, first I was stuck inside of a goddamn toaster due to a bad deal with the devil. Now this shit, I've been stabbed, shot, gassed and impaled so many times, but this is the worst. Hell I even had to protect Trump once. (Time works weird here) This just goes against all of that, this is a mix of everything that's happened. I heard stories, or rather legends, of having to be protect for the worlds biggest assholes when they show up. This takes the cake though, I don't just have to worry about the people that this guy killed, I have to worry about thousands of years worth of others going after him. I don't even know what he did, apparently some mass genocide, but why was I, a low level demon with little knowledge of the world doing protecting him? For all I know is could be Hitler... SHIT. | 2016-01-12T08:47:53 | 2016-01-12T06:10:19 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] It's been 50 years since the rich elites left to escape an alien invasion. The good news: the aliens are friendly. The bad news: nobody wants them back. | “On behalf of those you left behind for dead, on behalf of the two civilizations who now live harmoniously on planet earth, we say this; Do Not Return.”
On those last three words, the man lifted his gaze from the page of his written speech, pressing his glasses up the ridge of his nose with a finger as he focused his eyes on the camera. He maintained this state as he continued, giving Galel the feeling he was being directly addressed every time he rewatched the video,
“You who live aboard the eighth wonder of our world, who tried to rob us of our greatest minds and assets before fleeing in cowardice from what you believed to be certain doom. Know that you were wrong. Know that we thrive, and will continue to do so without you.”
“The atrocities of all those who boarded the Worldbridge will not be forgotten. We will remember you as an example of the cruelty humankind were once capable of, but no longer. Our new companions from outer space came in peace and shared their knowledge, revealing things we may not have discovered ourselves for millennia to come. The world has laid down their weapons in unison, but few will remain active lest you ever dare to approach. This is your one and only warning; Do Not Return.”
Galel shuddered and paused the video, glancing out of the porthole window beside him. The billions of stars in the distance appeared still and unmoving. The steady hum of the small crafts engines were the only thing that could assure him he was actually moving towards the destination he had set. The commlink was active, but still had yet to pick up anything, not even a flicker of sound.
“Again?” A voice tiredly groaned behind him. Galel glances back to see that Jorr had started to wake up, stretching his arms and leaning up from his reclined seat. It was dark within the craft, the only light being cast from the paused video on the screen behind Galel, casting his shadow over his friend.
“What good is that doing you, besides making you second guess this whole thing?”
“I am NEVER going back there.” Galel answered immediately, having raised his voice slightly more than he meant to, be softened his tone as he went on, “I just... can’t believe they had been lying about this the whole time.”
“Makes sense,” Jorr said with a shrug, “they didn’t want to seem like the bad guys, so they say earth was destroyed. The worldbridge is self sustaining, so it’s not like they had any use going back.”
Galel scoffed, “I’m more hung up on the bit about them leaving everyone behind like that. Taking off before the aliens even made a move.” He reached for a closed folder on the counter space just in front of him and tossed it into Jorrs lap, “you should read about how many people they killed just in attempting to keep the project a secret.”
Jorr leaned back in his seat, before bringing it back up to a seated position, pressing a button on his armrest to activate the dimmest setting of his overhead light. He flipped the folder open and continued to read where he had last left off.
“Damn.”
“What do you think the odds are of getting shot down upon arrival?” Galel asked, and it was obviously the biggest lingering question that was on his mind ever since they had found the video. Jorr could see it on his face.
“Slim...” Jorr reasoned, “I can’t imagine they would shoot us down when we are generations after the people who actually left. We were born on that station, and we are the only people to have escaped alive.” After a short pause, he added, “but there’s only really one way to find out.” | **\*NOTE: I was unsure who them is referring to so I am going to say them = rich elites\*'**
"Dic..."
"FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME, my name is His Highness RICHARD BEZOGATES the FIFTH"
"*sigh...*Ok....Richard. So tell me, Richard \*coughs\* *dick* \*coughs\* why are you contacting us after fifty years. I thought us poor Earth scum were too disgusting for you", I questioned him.
"President Armendola that is not why..."
"Oh so now you call me by my proper title? So what, you do not want to call me dirt king huh"
"Harryyyyyyy, the past is the past my friend. If we keep thinking about the past, how will we ever live in the present," he smiles with that comically large and fake grin of his.
"No Richard. You want us to forget the past. But you and all you Ringers ache for the past while you reside on your orbital ring around Mars. You...All of you long for the day when you can control us.. the day when you can subdue us again...the time when you can be the powerful ones again. After all, isn't societal order important to all of you. We Earth scum have to learn our place. But guess what asswipe? We have the power now. I, President Armendola of the United Countries of the Earth have the power now."
"Harry. Come on. We just want to come to Earth and talk," Richard said diplomatically.
"NO. Do not give me that bullshit again. Return to the earth my ass. All of you were so eager to part with your billions to construct a luxury spaceship when we first saw the fleet of the aliens. By the way, the aliens have a name. They are called Krons. You guys never wanted to help anyone but would easily stuff your own pockets. Oh an entire nation lacks food? Nah, I can't be concerned, I want to buy a new island. Now that you guys know how good the Krons have been and how they have helped us, you want to come back?"
"Harry. It's not that." he said weakly.
"Well then, what is it?" I questioned.
"Harry... We are being attacked. We cannot stop it. Nor can you alone. Even us Earthlings and Ringers together cannot fight back. We need the Krons help. Otherwise all of us....and I mean ALL OF US will perish" | 2020-08-02T09:05:24 | 2020-08-02T08:23:13 | 1,733 | 165 |
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