Split (1)

train · 43.8k rows

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[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you Apologies for the wordy title	"Well shit, Greg. Your knee's fucked up." Said the Fpirt apocethary. "No way in hell can any of my potions fix that." I sat up on the bed and took a look at my knee. It had one big cut across it, plus some minor bruising. "What do you mean doc? I just tripped over your flimpk hose, it's nothing serious." The Fpirt ignored my question. A new arm grew out of his head and he reached for a shelf above his head. He grabbed an empty jar, and set it down on the table beside me. His arm shriveled back into his head. "Alright Greg, it was nice having you on this ship, now if you could please shrink yourself, it would be delightful." He said as he opened the jar. "What? I'm not even a Fpirt, how can I even shrink myself? And why do you even need me to do that?" I asked. "Oh so you humans can't shrink yourselves? Ok, guess I'll do it for you." The apocethary said, looking mildly surprised. Before I could do anything, he forced my mouth open, and stuck one of his flimpk hoses down my throat. He pumped some of his own slime down the hose, and then removed the hose and safely stored it inside himself. I involuntarily swallowed the liquid. The Fpirt called for the onboard Fpirt priest. I took a look at my fingers, they were down to the size of an old school battery. The priest walked in. My palms started to shrink to match the size of my fingers. And I realised that my feet had followed a similar process. Both the priest and the apocethary made their appendages shrivel into themselves, and they were left as two blobs with nothing but a pair of eyes and a flimpk hose. My legs and arms began to shrink. My vocal cords were still full with the Fpirt juice, and I couldn't speak. The priest began to spew a purple gas from his hose, and the room smelled of burned gunpowder. I had difficulty breathing, my torso was the size of an infant's head. The priest stopped, and grew a single arm with 3 fingers right under his flimpk hose. By then I had completely shrunk. I was no bigger that a pigeon. The priest picked me up, and placed me in the jar. He extended his flimpk hose into the jar and spewed more of the purple gas. I threw up the Fpirt juice. Coughed a couple times, and looked up. The apocethary was about to close the jar shut. I shouted, as loud as I could, but my voice was incredibly high pitched. And neither of the Fpirts could hear me. The apocethary picked up the jar, and carried me towards an airlock. I banged on the glass, but to no avail. The priest had a sad look on his face, he moved his eyes to behind his head. The apocethary placed the jar on a small panel near the airlock. He grew an extra arm, and reached for the release button. My fate was sealed. I was stuck in my own Fpirt funeral. I gave up banging, and sat down in the jar. "God damn it, Greffikqr! Are you trying to jettison one of the crew again?" My human shipmate, Isaac walked into the room. "That damn funeral gas smells like shit. What the fuck is it for?" The apocethary moved his eyes towards Isaac. "He's got a cut on his knee, I was just making sure he died with honor instead of bleeding dry like a peasant." Greffikqr replied as he put his hand on the lever again. "For fuck's sake Gref, a human won't bleed to death from a tiny ass cut. It's probably clotted already, what the fuck!" Isaac shouted at the Fpirt. He walked towards the jar and opened it. I stoop up in excitement and raised my arms. He carefully picked me up, and set me down on the bed. "Isaac, how dare you interrupt a Fpirt funeral! That man is dead, accept it!" The priest extended an arm toward Isaac to try and stop him. Isaac slapped it away. "You fucking Fpirts and your funerals. Do you have any idea how many spacewalking sessions we've had to do out to get perfectly healthy men from your damn jars? Humans aren't protected by a thin ass membrane, we've got layers upon layers of shit. His insides won't spill out for fuck's sake. Look, his knee has healed already!" He picked me up and showed my knee to the Fpirts. Greffikqr extended his eye to take a closer look, and was surprised to see that my knee was no longer bleeding. "Wow! You guys are like fucking superheroes! I can't believe it!" "Got it now? Humans aren't giant cells like you are, Ok? Now fix Greg and get him back to his station. Fucking twat masters." Said Isaac before he promptly left the room, followed by the priest. Greffikqr grew a second tiny Flimpk hose, and stuck it down my throat. This was my first WP, and English isn't my first language so sorry for any errors. Also sorry for the shitty formatting, I'm on mobile. I'll probably edit this later.	When I was young, I enjoyed nothing more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They were so simple, and yet so tasty at the same time. The creamy goodness of the peanut butter blended in with the sweetness of the jam made my mouth explode with joy and the fact that I could easily assemble one(albeit with no small amount of mess) without my mother's constant guidance didn't hurt either. Of course, I couldn't really make anything else so it wasn't as if I had a choice. But out of the single choice of food I had, it was a damn good choice. I remember one afternoon I was making sandwiches with a friend of mine, James. The butter knives, having already been used for other purposes, sat in the sink waiting to be cleaned. So, despite knowing that our parents would not approve, 8 year old me and James stood on our tip toes to reach the kitchen knives that my mother kept in an almost unreachable part of the cupboard(ironically so that we would not be able to reach them) so we could make our sandwiches. I was a few inches too short to be able to grasp the handle of the knives, so I went and got the bread, peanut butter, and jelly out while James arched his back and the soles of his feet to be able to take one of the knives down. After I'd opened up the jars, James walked over to me with one of the knives. I picked out four slices of bread and placed them down on a plate and he handed me the knife. James paced around the kitchen in anticipation of our meal while I used the knife to spread jelly across the bread. I was halfway to going towards the peanut butter when the all-too-eager James bumped into me. I dropped the knife. As it fell through the air, I reflexively reached out to grab it. Big mistake. My hand grasped the blade, leaving a small cut across my right palm. Not only had I reached out to grab a falling knife, I had done so with my non-dominant hand. 8 year old me never stood a chance. Instinctively, I dropped the knife a second time and held my hand in pain while blood began to steadily ooze out. I didn't want it to get everywhere, so I put my tongue to it and lapped it up. Not the most hygienic of methods, but it got the job done. At this age, I was no stranger to injury. I'd had my fair share of cuts and bruises playing outside. But looking up, it seemed that James had not. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he realized what had happened. I could see his shoulders rise and fall as his breathing intensified. Hell, I could hear his breathing speed up. The poor kid seemed more hurt than me and he wasn't even the one that had just been cut. "Are you okay?" I asked him. For some reason, I thought that maybe he had gotten hurt too, despite the knife falling a good few inches away from his vicinity. Tears began to well in his eyes and he loudly cried out "I'm sorry!" "It's okay. I'm fine." I reassured him, putting some childlike cheer into my voice intentionally so that he would know I was being sincere. "Nooooo..." He squeezed out. "Your hand... you need a hospital." He pointed to my hand, now dripping blood on the floor and counters then began sobbing, clearly showing regret for his mistake. "It's okay, I'll just put a few band-aids on it." I told him. At this point I was more concerned for him that I was for myself. Thankfully, the fact that I didn't seem to be worried about the cut calmed him and his sobbing began to slow. "Band-aid?" He said, perplexed. It sounded as if he'd never heard of them. As it turned out, he hadn't. James belonged to a species of alien that couldn't heal the way that humans do. Their planet was mostly a safe and peaceful one, with few threats that were far in between. Combined with the thick skin of their species, they seldom encountered injury and hadn't evolved to the point where they could heal in the same way that humans could. So, to a member of his species, the result of a simple kitchen accident could be deadly. Though, thankfully, his skin was thick enough that the knife probably wouldn't be hurting him the same way it did me. "Yeah, a band-aid. It's this thing you put on when you get bleed and it stop the bleeding so you can get better." I told him. I figured it would be better to show him than to tell him. So I ran off to my mother's medicine cabinet where she kept the band-aids and pulled out a box. I ran back to James and showed him one of the wrapping. I cut off the edges of the little paper packaging, followed by the little bits that keep the glue from drying out, and started inexpertly covering the cut with band-aids. I probably used six or seven and my hand was coated in them by the time I was done. James' tears had finally stopped, he was calm now and the look on his face was one of awe. "I can't do that." He said. "Why not?" I asked him. He looked puzzled for a moment. "I don't know, but one time my dad got a cut like that and he had to go to the hospital. Now his leg has this plastic stuff in it. It keeps him from bleeding." Plastic sealants are, of course, incredibly inconvenient and expensive to get. But to the eight year old me, they sounded flat out awesome. "Cool, I wish I could get one of those. D'ya think mom would let me get one instead of the band-aids?" "I dunno, you should ask her." "I don't think we should tell her about this..." My voice trailed off thinking of what my mother would do if she found out I'd been using one of her knives without permission and actually ended up hurting myself in the process. Not to mention getting my friend James involved. There would be Hell to pay if she ever heard what we'd done. Knowing my luck, that hell did not take long to arrive. Much like the devil, my mother decided to walk in the door at the most inopportune of moments to see James with slightly red eyes, me with my hand mummified by band-aids, and one of her good knives lying on the floor like last week's garbage. Suffice to say, James was sent home after that and we never got to finish our sandwiches.	2017-05-11T02:26:03	2017-05-11T01:50:11	139	46
[WP] You've been living alone for 13 years. Whenever you come home from work, you always find your bed made, dinner cooked and a message with "This could have been us." You moved out several times. This keeps going on.	For thirteen years I come home to this. Every day I see that same damn note. I knew before opening the door that I would see the note again. It's always the same handwriting but they're all different. I saved them all. I compared them and each one is unique. All four thousand seven hundred twenty three of them. Sometimes they would be written on nice stationary other times notebook paper and once on a napkin. But the same words with the same loopy handwriting. I tried coming home early a few times but I never caught anyone in the act. Everything is still spotless. Food on the table. Cats are fed. Note on the little table next to the front door on top of the mail. Because the mail is always brought in. At first I was freaked out. Do I have a stalker? Is it a ghost? I would call the police. They have a nice file with my name on it. I changed the locks several times but to no avail. I moved to a new apartment but only to find that after running to the post office to change my address that the boxes were all unpacked. After a year or so I gave up on trying to figure it out. It is what it is. A phantom housekeeper. Except for that god damned note. This could have been us. Us who? I have raked through old relationships and have come up dry. No one in my entire history cared for me this way. No tragic lost love. No psycho exes that tried to set my car on fire. The only person I could see even remotely caring for me this much was Marion. Things didn't end well for Marion and I but we get along well now. Besides that Marion is busy three states away with two children, a thriving optician career, and a husband she loves more than she has ever loved me. She doesn't even have time to clean her own house. Now you may be wondering how it happens every day. Surely after thirteen years I have stayed home at least once. What about weekends? Somehow every weekend I have things to do. Errands to run, social events, working extra. And when I come home sure as sunshine the apartment is spotless. So I took some sick days and refused to leave the apartment. I fell asleep. I always fall asleep when I stay home. Just a short nap maybe half an hour. When I wake up three hours of housework is done and that damn mocking note waits for me. That was when I decided it must be a ghost. I have summoned priests and psychics alike. The priests would bless the home even though they claimed there was no evil spirits lurking within. Psychics always seemed to have explanations of a troubled past with a former lover yet they never were able to come up with a name. I'm pretty sure they were phonies. I tried a Ouija board but that just felt silly and didn't amount to anything either. I figured I would be scientific. I would catch the ghost on camera. Funny thing about the paranormal they don't like cameras. I would always find them broken. Not smashed up or anything violent. Just corrupted memory or in the case of actual film over exposed. After admitting defeat that I would not solve this mystery I just accepted my good fortune of having a free housekeeper. Well almost good fortune. That note still taunted me. I wanted to throw them away but I felt compelled to save them. So whenever I got home I would put the note with the others all ordered in a shoebox in my night stand drawer. I pull them out sometimes and stare at them. I trace the curves with my finger. Who is us? Yesterday sitting at work I finally decided that enough is enough. I can't stop the phantom housekeeper but I can keep her from driving me mad. When I get home I'm going to destroy those god damn notes, I thought to myself. When I got home I hesitated outside the door knowing what was waiting on the other side. I opened the door to find everything as neat and tidy as it always was. There on the small table was the note. This could have been us. on a square card. I grabbed it and rushed to my bedroom to grab the others I took the shoebox out to the patio and tossed them in the barbecue pit. I squirted the entire bottle of lighter fluid and stepped back as I lit the match. The flames shot up as the paper curled beneath the dancing light. I did not sleep easy last night. I felt that I had pissed on something sacred. That in the middle of the night I would feel fingers wrap around my throat for the trespass I had committed. But morning came and nothing happened. I don't know what to expect when I get home. Will she have cleaned like she does every day? Or did I break the spell? Local Man Arrested on Murder Charges Early yesterday evening local man Dennis Cooper was arrested inside his home after neighbors called to complain about screaming coming from his apartment. When police arrived on the scene they discovered a woman by the name of Marion Barnes sprawled on the floor apparently crushed to death while the suspect was in the corner crying and banging his head against the wall. Miss Barnes was thought to have been dead 13 years ago in a drunken driving incident in Pearson county. Further investigation shows the suspect was involved in the same incident but escaped uninjured. No comment could be reached from Miss Barnes' parents. Among the general filth of the apartment which is awaiting a visit from the Department of Health was a cryptic message scrawled on the wall stating "But this is what we got." Mr. Cooper is awaiting a psychological evaluation and is being held without bail.	My job is not the most prestigious, or the most difficult. Like everything else, it is just a job. I hate it, just like I hate myself. A repetition of certain tasks that does not ever end. I keep to myself, as always. I have no interest in making acquaintances or friends. The only guy that talks to me just compliments me on my smile, every-damn-day. I brush like any one else, he's a freak. Besides, I'm not truly alone. I have been on my own, living in solitude for the better part of a decade, probably thirteen years if I was being specific. The reason I say this is because whenever I return home from a long day, my bed is made, a lovely dinner cooked, and a cryptic message talking about how 'this could have been us.' I should also mention, I have moved for my job a few times. At no point has this phantom left me alone. Nor has my mysterious admirer ever left me a dish that I disliked. I don't speak much, and my wife has been dead for thirteen years. I never had interest in beginning anew with another person. I don't care what people think, this is not the case of a haunting. My wife died of pancreatic cancer, there was no murder, there was no secret. We had a healthy, and successful marriage. Perfect? No. However, it was fine enough that she would have better things to do than haunt me. Besides, she was adamant about having me try food out of my comfort zone, which didn't extend far to start with. It's kind of nice, knowing whatever happens that I will have a hot cooked meal for me. I used to purposefully throw my bed around, and make it as annoying as possible to clean up. Yet, whoever wishes a life with me, they have a very strong case of OCD. I sat eating porridge, of all things, not my favorite but I had no one to complain to. I've always wondered if this is one of those situations where a depraved lunatic is living in my walls, watching me. I can assure you, that is not the case. Every time I move, I have taken a sledgehammer to the walls, and there's nothing in there but rat carcasses and cobwebs. I stared at my reflection in the bowl, desperate for the answer. Nothing. I walked past the mirror before my bedroom. A careful glance depicted a man who had begun to lose control of his mental facilities. Another problem I had, the mirrors tended to break. I don't know why. Had to be part of the bad luck that followed me. I tried to sleep in my already made bed. A few hours later I woke up, unexpectedly, and went to vomit into the toilet. I crawled back into my bed, miserable. I opened my eyes, and found myself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. I looked at the table, already written was the message I always saw. I walked back to my bedroom, passing the mirror. I stopped, and saw there was a strange mark. It looked like... the remnants of a kiss. To test my theory, I kissed the mirror, and it was an exact match. It seems a part of me wants to love myself, but I refuse to allow happiness, since Jean died. Now what would happen? I broke the cycle. I went to sleep, in an unmade bed. I went to work. When I came home, there was no food, and my room had not been cleaned. However, I did see a message I wasn't familiar with. It said 'We will be together.' I looked at the mirror, and placed my head against it. I thought I had it all figured out, but now I was once again in the dark. Day 4751: Experiment can be ruled a possible success. Subject C exhibited a high level of grief. After thirteen years, he finally required an answer. Subject C decided to create, and believe a separate personality to explain the endless repetition. This demonstrates that with proper tuning and manipulation, a psuedo-personality can be constructed to alleviate mental turmoil. It should be noted that final message left on Subject C's kitchen table, is not one of our own. Continue research for further findings. Video play back does not indicate Subject C wrote it. At no point in recordings does the message appear. Possible formula for self-loathing discovered, but unintended and unknown side effects must be observed. Day 4752: Subject C has not returned from work. Employer said he showed up, but never left. Building will need to be searched and searched again. Thirteen years is too long to lose Subject C. Update. Nate McReids body located, missing every single tooth. No other injuries. Subject C was alive during dental extraction. Subject C is gone. We have no Subjects left. Data is not sufficient for thirteen years. Experiment ruled a failure. Oh, I've always admired that smile of yours Nate. You'd shine those pearly whites at me, so often. I knew it was love, between us. I waited thirteen years for this. I enjoy reading up on dental hygiene, don't you? Yes, it's a hobby of mine. You're forty-seven aren't you? Unfortunately, I'm going to be moving soon Nate. I would have waited three more years. After fifty, that's when teeth as majestic as yours, they just start to rapidly and horribly depreciate. I couldn't, I just couldn't let them fall from grace like that! It's been a pleasure, thirteen long years, but now I have to leave. Don't you worry, I will be taking those teeth with me. Can you just imagine the amount the tooth fairy would give me? Oh, I'm kidding, I'd never part with these well formed and, if you don't mind me saying, immaculate teeth. Nate, Nate, it's okay to cry those tears of joy. These will be the crown jewels of my collection. Oh yes, yes indeed, I do have many. How else did you think I could come to appreciate, to dream about, and to desire such healthy teeth? You heard the rumors, people losing teeth in our job field! That's me. None of them could do as you do though. I just, feel so clean around you. I could go blind staring at them. I'm going to start taking them out now. I want you to be able to smile at me, until you only have gums left. Just look at this molar! You know, I'm going to take out my own. I just have to have this. I'm so happy right now, Nate. I can finally retire with a perfect set! Open that dental treasure chest for me.	2017-12-09T06:03:17	2017-12-09T03:12:50	281	35
[WP] You've been living alone for 13 years. Whenever you come home from work, you always find your bed made, dinner cooked and a message with "This could have been us." You moved out several times. This keeps going on.	You unlock your apartment door in anticipation, wondering if it would happen again. You had just moved into this apartment a couple days ago, and as a result your evening visitor has been conspicuously absent. As you creak the door open slowly, the smell of a delicious home cooked meal hits you in the nose. With a big smile, you shut the door behind you and set your purse down. ‘How does she always manage to do this?’ You wonder for the thousandth time as you quickly wash your hands and prepare to tuck into what looks like fettuccine alfredo. And as always, a note sits under your knife and fork – ‘this could have been us.’ You roll your eyes, of course your sister couldn’t let you be without a bit of a guilt trip. It had been thirteen years since you had last lived together; when you first decided to move out of her house, she had been saddened and angry, and the two of you didn’t talk for a long time. The plan was to always be together, even as adults, but you could see that her life was growing in ways yours was not. She had a husband, and a child on the way, and you could see there was no more room for you. She adamantly denied this, and begged you to stay where she could take care of you. She’s always been more like a mom to you than a sister in this way, and she’s found a way to take care of you beyond the four walls of her home. ‘But how did she get a copy of my key again?’ you muse, as you wash up from dinner. You figure you might as well call and thank her, yet again. The phone rings once before ending in a generic voicemail. ‘Hmm, weird.’ “Hi dear, thanks again for dinner. I don’t know which super you bribed to get in, but I really appreciate it. Can I see you soon? I feel like it’s been forever. I love you.” You sigh in satisfaction, feeling well fed and loved. Before you can decide to change out of your work clothes, your phone rings. “Hello?” A warm, if not slightly wary, male voice responds, “Hi Alex, it’s David. It’s been a little while since your last appointment, I was wondering if you’d like to come see me tomorrow?” David was your therapist, he was a wonderful man with a gentle demeanor, and had been doing wonders for your mild seasonal depression. “Hi David, sorry, I’ve been really busy with work. I’m surprised you have time tomorrow, though,” you respond, feeling a bit bad. “You’ve been busy with work?” He sounds a bit incredulous, and careful when he asks a long beat later “can you come see me tomorrow during your lunch break then?” “Sure,” you respond, a bit confused. David is acting a strange today. In a good mood, you shrug it off and write a little note to remind yourself to stop by his office. The next day, you’re sat in a comfy leather couch that practically swallows you whole, making you feel childlike. You wonder if this is why David is able so good at disarming people. David sits across from you, holding a little silver tape recorder. That was new. You were starting to feel uneasy. “Alex, I’m going to play something for you, and I’d like you to stay calm until we have a chance to discuss it.” “Okay,” you respond, softly and warily. He presses play on the recorder, and your voice suddenly fills the room, sounding tinny and distorted, “Hi dear, thanks again for dinner.” You immediately recognize it as the message you left for your sister last night. The message plays out and you both stay quiet for a long couple of seconds. “Alex, I need to know if this is you practising a coping method, or if all of our hard work together over the past year has been undone.” You see red, “What the hell David? Where did you get that? Why do you have that? This is a serious invasion of privacy!” You yell, feeling violated and embarrassed. “Alex, please answer me,” he begs you, “did you think your sister would get this message?” “Of course, that’s who it was intended for! That means not you. I’m reporting this to the ethics board.” You go to stand up, but David puts a very careful hand on your arm. “Before you go, please watch this.” He pulls out his phone and quickly loads up a video. You recognize yourself in the video, in one of your first apartments. The video is sped up, and you watch yourself put an apron on very carefully over your work clothes, and start to cook. You prepare an entire meal with great care and precision, setting a single place set and even washing the dishes. Then you watch yourself take out a piece of paper and write a note –‘this could have been us.’ You feel like you’re going to be sick. The you in the video leaves the apartment, only to return a second later, unlocking the door and looking surprised and pleased. You fall back into the chair, raw agony clawing at your throat. “Alex, she’s been gone a long time. I don’t know what else we can try at this point.” David says gently. You barely hear him, you feel like you have water in your ears. It’s like losing her all over again. "I need to get back to work," you mumble incoherently. "My dear, you don't have a job," David pats you on the arm comfortingly. From far away, you hear him say something about in-patient care.	My job is not the most prestigious, or the most difficult. Like everything else, it is just a job. I hate it, just like I hate myself. A repetition of certain tasks that does not ever end. I keep to myself, as always. I have no interest in making acquaintances or friends. The only guy that talks to me just compliments me on my smile, every-damn-day. I brush like any one else, he's a freak. Besides, I'm not truly alone. I have been on my own, living in solitude for the better part of a decade, probably thirteen years if I was being specific. The reason I say this is because whenever I return home from a long day, my bed is made, a lovely dinner cooked, and a cryptic message talking about how 'this could have been us.' I should also mention, I have moved for my job a few times. At no point has this phantom left me alone. Nor has my mysterious admirer ever left me a dish that I disliked. I don't speak much, and my wife has been dead for thirteen years. I never had interest in beginning anew with another person. I don't care what people think, this is not the case of a haunting. My wife died of pancreatic cancer, there was no murder, there was no secret. We had a healthy, and successful marriage. Perfect? No. However, it was fine enough that she would have better things to do than haunt me. Besides, she was adamant about having me try food out of my comfort zone, which didn't extend far to start with. It's kind of nice, knowing whatever happens that I will have a hot cooked meal for me. I used to purposefully throw my bed around, and make it as annoying as possible to clean up. Yet, whoever wishes a life with me, they have a very strong case of OCD. I sat eating porridge, of all things, not my favorite but I had no one to complain to. I've always wondered if this is one of those situations where a depraved lunatic is living in my walls, watching me. I can assure you, that is not the case. Every time I move, I have taken a sledgehammer to the walls, and there's nothing in there but rat carcasses and cobwebs. I stared at my reflection in the bowl, desperate for the answer. Nothing. I walked past the mirror before my bedroom. A careful glance depicted a man who had begun to lose control of his mental facilities. Another problem I had, the mirrors tended to break. I don't know why. Had to be part of the bad luck that followed me. I tried to sleep in my already made bed. A few hours later I woke up, unexpectedly, and went to vomit into the toilet. I crawled back into my bed, miserable. I opened my eyes, and found myself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. I looked at the table, already written was the message I always saw. I walked back to my bedroom, passing the mirror. I stopped, and saw there was a strange mark. It looked like... the remnants of a kiss. To test my theory, I kissed the mirror, and it was an exact match. It seems a part of me wants to love myself, but I refuse to allow happiness, since Jean died. Now what would happen? I broke the cycle. I went to sleep, in an unmade bed. I went to work. When I came home, there was no food, and my room had not been cleaned. However, I did see a message I wasn't familiar with. It said 'We will be together.' I looked at the mirror, and placed my head against it. I thought I had it all figured out, but now I was once again in the dark. Day 4751: Experiment can be ruled a possible success. Subject C exhibited a high level of grief. After thirteen years, he finally required an answer. Subject C decided to create, and believe a separate personality to explain the endless repetition. This demonstrates that with proper tuning and manipulation, a psuedo-personality can be constructed to alleviate mental turmoil. It should be noted that final message left on Subject C's kitchen table, is not one of our own. Continue research for further findings. Video play back does not indicate Subject C wrote it. At no point in recordings does the message appear. Possible formula for self-loathing discovered, but unintended and unknown side effects must be observed. Day 4752: Subject C has not returned from work. Employer said he showed up, but never left. Building will need to be searched and searched again. Thirteen years is too long to lose Subject C. Update. Nate McReids body located, missing every single tooth. No other injuries. Subject C was alive during dental extraction. Subject C is gone. We have no Subjects left. Data is not sufficient for thirteen years. Experiment ruled a failure. Oh, I've always admired that smile of yours Nate. You'd shine those pearly whites at me, so often. I knew it was love, between us. I waited thirteen years for this. I enjoy reading up on dental hygiene, don't you? Yes, it's a hobby of mine. You're forty-seven aren't you? Unfortunately, I'm going to be moving soon Nate. I would have waited three more years. After fifty, that's when teeth as majestic as yours, they just start to rapidly and horribly depreciate. I couldn't, I just couldn't let them fall from grace like that! It's been a pleasure, thirteen long years, but now I have to leave. Don't you worry, I will be taking those teeth with me. Can you just imagine the amount the tooth fairy would give me? Oh, I'm kidding, I'd never part with these well formed and, if you don't mind me saying, immaculate teeth. Nate, Nate, it's okay to cry those tears of joy. These will be the crown jewels of my collection. Oh yes, yes indeed, I do have many. How else did you think I could come to appreciate, to dream about, and to desire such healthy teeth? You heard the rumors, people losing teeth in our job field! That's me. None of them could do as you do though. I just, feel so clean around you. I could go blind staring at them. I'm going to start taking them out now. I want you to be able to smile at me, until you only have gums left. Just look at this molar! You know, I'm going to take out my own. I just have to have this. I'm so happy right now, Nate. I can finally retire with a perfect set! Open that dental treasure chest for me.	2017-12-09T07:28:01	2017-12-09T03:12:50	269	35
[WP] In 1900, a scouting alien ship studies Earth and its inhabitants for a future alien invasion. They report back that we are primitive beings. In 2018, their mighty fleet arrives to wage war, but are dumbfounded by the abundance and power of nuclear weapons.	I couldn't control him. From one end of the ship he dashed to the other, powerless in containing his excitement as the blue sphere on the corner of our compartment window grew. This was it - after a century, the invasion of Earth was underway, and my Captain couldn't have been more proud. This was before he heard the news. "Captain," I yelled out as he stared at the roof of our spacecraft with an intoxicated gaze, taking a break from his celebratory laps around the ship. While a sense of childhood joy masked his every move, sweat covered both palms of my hand, forming a puddle over the documents I was ferociously gripping for the past hour. The documents, with an aggressive bold, were labelled "Do Not Engage". "Captain!" He regained control and turned around. Our eyes met, and if he wasn't knee-deep in Cloud 9, he would've immediately sensed my incalculable dread. "I...I have this to give you." His smile still remained, but it was when he took the documents, read the cover title, and quickly began dissecting whatever it entailed that all life seemingly vanished from his once youthful face. I couldn't even bear to continue my curious stare until I saw him nervously mouthing words, with the phrase "Nuclear Threat" being the most prominent. "This..." he started, taking a deep pause before he could lift up his courage and regain the sense of leadership he had for years been entrusted to abide by. "This shouldn't change anything. We're fine. This changes nothing." He threw the documents on the ground, and, walking away, failed to recapture the subtle skip in his step that dominated his every move for the past few hours. His reassurances meant nothing to the crew engineers and I who were made aware of the nuclear weaponry on Earth beforehand. Unlike him, we knew the truth: this changed everything. The engineers and I huddled, attempting to make sense of my Captain's ignorance. From the corner of my eyes, I could see him in his quarters, desperately looking around his room as if there was a hidden key waiting to be found - waiting to rectify what seemed to be the end of a century-long journey for him. "He's not going to recover, is he?" asked a fellow engineer. "I mean, shit. There's no chance in hell he's going to recover, right?" "I don't know," I replied firmly. "Honestly, I don't know." From birth, members of my species back on my home planet were designated specific occupations - occupations that they were expected to execute with the best of their ability, regardless if they even found passion in their predetermined fate. The first word I ever even recollected saying as a child was "engineer", and the same sentiment was shared among my colleagues. There were engineers like me, but also researchers, pilots, explorers. Above all, however, were the Intergalactic Council Representatives; this was the most prestigious fate to be given - those who were gifted this title represented their home planet in the Intergalactic Council. The Representatives dominated our galaxy, given every amenity they desired if they successfully fulfilled one task: capture a planet of their choosing. The "Conquerer's Quest", as it was known, was simple. Scout a planet, and in roughly a century, unleash your full potential as an Intergalactic Council Representative to seize every square inch of your new world. The planet would be your legacy - it was the symbol of your dominance, the tangible proof of your unmatched prowess, capable of obtaining any form of respect imaginable. Earth was my Captain's planet. Earth was my Captain's dream. Earth was all that crossed his mind, crowding his aspirations and triumphing his conversations with fellow Intergalactic Council Representatives. Upon reading "Nuclear Threat", that dream vanished. As my colleagues retained our huddled formation, trying to muster up a viable course of action, the blue planet - once a symbol optimism, now a symbol of failed dreams - approached our direct line of sight. My eyes peered back over to the Captain, and upon seeing him sit up from his chair and collect his stern posture, he walked over to the rest of the crew. The engineers and I broke free from our discussion and encircled our leader with attentive ears. For minutes, he stood silent. His gaze fixated on each member of the crew, with eyes trying to convey "sorry", but with a voice unable to do so. He lifted his head, now reverting his stare to the compartment window, putting all his focus on the planet Earth that was now fast approaching. With what seemed to be hesitation, he soon ordered the crew to do what we all thought would be our demise: "Engage."	"Son of a bitch," snorted the bipedal bug through his three snouts. "Commander!" Exclaimed another to his right. Swearing was very passe. "I know, I know," The Commander said folding his arms. "But I mean, look! Look at that!" He thrust in his chin at the heads up display. It was currently displaying a three dimensional graphical representation of the Earth, a dozen bright glowing dots were clustered throughout. "Ridiculous. You know the first things these primitives do when we show up is puff up their chests, and these ones look like they think they have mighty big chests." "They'll ruin everything, sir." Intoned the cool headed navigator, sitting in his comfortable seat and entirely disengaged. His pension was secure, what did it matter to him if another planet blew itself up, rather than enter the Galactic Fold. "Think we ought to do that thing, sir? You know with the skin suits and brain sucking?" The Commander groaned, rolled his head and stomped his feet. "It'll take too long. You know the Seed Barons are breathing down our necks, they want a planet and they want it now." "What say we just say hello? See how it goes?" The commander brought a tri-knuckle hand to his chin, stroked his coarse sticky hairs. "I guess that's our best shot. Culture Relations Chief?" "Yes, sir?" "Bring up what we have on Earth, and send for the A-V guy." It was done. A quiet call was made down to the audio-visual department in the rear deck and the holograph of Earth was replaced with blocks of strange curling characters. The Commander pursed this thoughtfully. "I think I've got it," the Commander said snapping his fingers. Just then a mechanical hiss issued from the door to his rear, the audio-visual department had arrived. One bug, tired and unwashed. The Commander wrinkled his nose, "Ah, good to see you Ger. Look here, think you can whip this up for me?" he said pointing at a particular block of text. Ger pursed his lips, nodded. "Seems doable, gimme about fifteen minutes," he said, and set to work on the console. He set up a blocky device on the headboard, pointing it at the Commander, it bathed him in a dim green light and hit some keys. "That oughta do." "Thanks Ger, you do good work buddy. Now, what do you guys think? Do I look attractive?" The Bridge crew each turned their commander, made varying faces of disgust. "I mean, if you were a weirdo with five digits on your hands and external genitalia." "Hmm, guess so Commander? Hard to put those boots on, sir." "Whatever, make the call this is prime time Earth hours. And bring us into low orbit." "Will do, sir." And the call was made. An overpowering broadcast, robbing every radio signal, telephone call, television set and finally even penetrating nearly every currently operational personal computer. "Am I on?" The Commander asked. "To just about every pair of eyes down there, sir." The Navigation Officer replied. "Ah good, uh, ahem," the Commander cleared his throat. "As you can see I am a beautiful buxom blond and blue eyed woman and my frame is slender and nonthreatening. That's right many years ago you, I mean I went into space VIA a secret project and we have established a utopia so we should all disarm our nuclear warheads and get along." The Commander looked to his crew for assurance, certain he botched it. They shrugged. * Earth, 12:00PM, Washington DC The President sat behind his rich desk staring at a monitor that had been brought in for him. A beautiful Germanic woman was on it, claiming to be from the stars. Claiming peace and love. She dissipated a moment later and a vista of the Earth framed next to a spaceship replaced her. "My god," breathed the President. "The Nazi's really did make it too the moon. We're sure they're up there?" "They're up there all right, sir." "How's fascism polling?" "Sir, no one seems to know what it means anymore but everyone is sure it's bad, also you might be a fascist yourself, according to public opinion." "Not good," said the President, "very not good." He steepled his fingers and brought them to his mouth, resting his thumbs on his chin. "Bring me the Little Red Phone." The Little Red Phone was brought. "Hello, Mr.President? This is Mr.President. You're seeing what I'm seeing? Right. We know what we have to do, god speed Mr.President." He hung up the phone and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You people know what to do," he said. "You made the right call, sir. Popularity will sky-rocket for sure." * "Son of a bitch," snorted the bipedal bug through his three snouts. "It didn't work did it?" "No sir." "Those are coming right for us, aren't they?" "Yes sir." The Commander sighed, dejected he strolled up to the little boxy device resting on the console in front of him and shut it off. He was no longer a beautiful woman, but a handsome bug. "Think they'll court-marshal you sir?" "Probably. This is the third time after all." The space ship left low earth orbit and was never seen from again. Back on Earth everyone banded under a supreme leader, adopting a martial stance, fearful of the crafts return and what it might spell for liberty on Earth.	2018-01-21T00:10:07	2018-01-21T00:07:10	35	12
[WP] You bought a toy dial phone for your 6 year old. He tells you all about the conversations he's had on the phone, you assume they are imaginary. One day you pick up the phone as a joke and start talking, you hear a voice say "Finally, an adult on the line"	"I'm trapped... in the wrong place. I've been hoping to get through to someone - anyone - who can help me." The voice on the phone shouted at me. For a toy phone the speaker was surprisingly loud. I decided to suspend disbelief for a minute. If I was hallucinating, the least I could do was try to enjoy it before waking up to the sound of heart monitors in the hospital. "Why hello there, sir, I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't expect anyone to be on this line. My name is George, where are you exactly?" "Listen, George, I don't think I have a lot of time. I need you to pay very close attention. Can you do that George?" After considering this for a moment, I could hear the voice on the other end of the line take a long sigh. Clearly my pause didn't jive well with his lack of time. "Sure. To whom am I speaking? "Ed. You can call me Ed. Listen, George, I don't know how to break this to you but I'll start by saying that I know my voice is coming to you in a very confusing way - though I'm not sure exactly how it's working - but you are very much awake right now. And everything I'm about to tell you is true." He couldn't spit the words out fast enough. He continued, "do you ever have the feeling like a choice in front of you would have very similar results, but you just pick one? Orange juice or apple juice for breakfast, that sort of thing?" "I guess so," I said, a little uncertain of where this would lead but enjoying my hallucination nonetheless. "Well, George, this is where my story gets tricky to explain. You see I used to work at scientific research facility in a small town in Oregon, and I was studying the many worlds theory? The one that postulates there are an infinite number of universes in which you made a somewhat different set of choices?" He didn't pause to let me answer. "In studying this theory, I found a way to cross between these parallel universes. I managed to devise an instrument to change the universe that my consciousness is experiencing. That was 3 years ago. I have been in this place where my daughter doesn't exist, I'm married to a model, but the sky is green. In these 3 years I made a new instrument to contact you. Well, not you specifically, see George you are in the universe I came from. I need to you find the me in your universe and tell him the following information. I'm sure he misses Tinka and would be fine with switching back, especially given that I didn't exactly ask his permission before kicking him to your universe. Can you do that George?" What. The. Heck. Is. Going. On. Of course I didn't believe this, but here I was hearing a voice coming through a toy phone, so who was I to judge the validity of his ramblings. "Sure, Ed. Just give me a phone number and I'll text him whatever you tell me right now." "Text? What do you mean text? Oh, you mean those little messages we used to send like digital post its? Don't you have some sort of hologram generator or teleportation device so you can get him in the room with you right now? I'm telling you, I'm running out of time here! I was ok for awhile, but I'm at the end of my rope with trying to get back and I don't think I can make it much longer." "We don't have any of those things, Ed. Sorry to break it to you." I felt bad having to break it to him that maybe he spent the last 3 years trying to get back to a place that kind of sucked by comparison. "What's changed there in the past 3 years?" He asked slowly. I guess I was right to feel bad. "Well, have you seen the movie Back to the Future II?" I said, knowing that if time was of the essence this would be the fastest way. "Obviously. It's the best." Couldn't agree more, pal. "Ok" I ticked off the similarities on my fingers, "We still don't have flying cars, skyways, hover scooters, robot waitresses, self drying clothing, accurate weather prediction, or the ability to rehydrate pizza from a tiny packet into a fresh, delicious pie. Instead, we have President Biff and text messaging is still the fastest way to send information. If you have anything close to the technology there that you described - " I heard a loud clang. He hung up. I guess I talked him out of it.	As confuse as you are he continues. "Listen here bud, my names Chad and this child, THIS CHILD has been calling the UHSL." You ask him "What is the UHSL?, WAIT, scratch that! What in the world is going on? How does this even work?" And try to continue but he interrupts you saying "First question first, UHSL stands for "Undead Human Service Line" and what's been going on is that the kid has been calling the dead for 2 months, and last this is a phone line to talk to the dead, how do you expect it to work?" You follow up with "Undead? Undead? UNDEAD!?!? You expect me to believe my son has been calling the undead? Give me one good reason not to report you to the police?" And now Chad is a sensible guy, he replies in the best ways, here's an example "You really expect anyone to believe you? Are you just gonna say "Hello Mr.Policeman, my sons been contacting the undead!" Is that how this is gonna work?" You stand there wondering what to do when your kid says "Mommy, is it Mr.Bones who you are speaking to?" You quickly tell him to go to his room" he follows your instructions. You pick up the phone again and say "Okay Chad, what do you want me to do!" But Chad doesn't reply, instead you here a feminine voice saying "Hello, Chad forwarded you to me, told me something about a... Misplaced phone? Do you know where you left this phone Ms...?". Just the way she was so professional you could tell that this is real. You reply with "Uhhhh I'm not the one who misplaced the phone, this pho-" The voice then said " Then may I speak with the one who misplaced this phone?" You stand there baffled,thinking this will never end. "Am I boring you? I'm kind of sorry about that, I'm a Swoob." You ask her "What in the world is a Swoob?". "Oh,my,god... you are a human! Every undead,monster, or ghoul knows about each other existence. Chad is really going to have to explain that one, I can't believe he would misinform me, It's what he always does, you know when I met his family he didn't tell me that his brother was a Vemmigorgin, I can't believe it, at that time we've been dating for about 2 years and this is still going on, you know nothing about how angry I am, in fact imma tell yo-" the voice says You say "Slow down, just please slow down, I want to fix this problem" the voice in an angry tone says "YOU WANT ME TO SLOW DOWN, HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO DEAL WITH THE STRESS OF BEING A SECRETARY, NO, YOU HUMANS CAN GO WILLY NILLY AND DO ALL THIS STUFF, WELLL US DEAD,MONSTERS,AND GHOULS CAN HAVE FUN TOO, IN FACT-" the voice just stops. You stand there waiting to hear something. After what felt like forever, a voice picks up "Hello This is Mr.Bones, the CEO of Monsters Cell International, MCI, now I will calmly tell you what you must do to return this phone back to the Spirit." You just ask him "what was that craziness that happened before?" He replies with "Did Janet give you a scare,I'm very sorry ma'am, I'll have a talk with her after our business. Now to return this phone to th-, hold on, do you have a fireplace?" You tell him yes and he continues "well to return the phone you must cast a fire in a fireplace, decorate it with a liquid other than water, and throw the phone in, got that?" "Ummm, I think I can do this. Does red soda work?" "Yes Red Soda does work" And now you are in the middle of this process, soda staining the carpet and the fire place, about to throw the phone in when your husband comes through the door. He ask you what you are doing, you can't explain, this leads to a fight,this fight leads to more fights, this all leads to a messy divorce. And as you tell the judge what happened, she can only bat an eye, she says "So this Mr.Bones, who is Ironically named after your divorce lawyer is an owner of a Undead Phone Service Company? And also has two workers named after you and your husband? Mrs.Janet Ell, are you currently on any drugs or have mental health issues?" It's is that one question that destroys your case as your husband has fully custody of your child. You sit there one the ground of your new apartment just holding the phone asking for Chad, One day after 5 years he answers saying "You, you never destroyed the phone? Well that's great, I want to tell you how great my life has been since me and Janet got things settled, we are married, we are soon to have a kid. In fact what was your child's name again?" You can only muster up the word "Elliot" and He answers "well that's a fantastic name, might use it." You can't even think about talking to him, but then he says "oh yeah Mr.Bones has an appointment with you, let me forward you to him" you sit there patiently waiting for Mr.Bones to answer and when he finally does he only has one thing to say "It's Time, Janet you will be reborn" And you don't know how to act On one hand your life has already fallen apart But on another this is still a small will to live It is your choice... Should you stay or should you go. Edit:I finished the story	2018-08-02T17:11:18	2018-08-02T15:15:03	657	66
[WP] A parent built an advanced VR sandbox for their child, inhabited by an AI playmate for the child to play with. At some point the child stops using it, returning 30 years later only to find that their AI playmate has gained sapience, and has been waiting for their return all those years.	The house had three bedrooms, a living room, a study, a kitchen, two bathrooms, one garden, a playground. And a lot of memories. I was never good with children. That's why, dad built this place. On his days off, we would play together here, father and son. A baseball, a bat, a mitt, a football, anything. I was just happy dad spent his time with me. The day was always sunny when we were together. When he had work, which was often, I spent my days with David. Those days, it rained torrent. I never really liked David. But I didn't want to make dad sad. He was his creation, after all. "Be nice to David. He's yet to developed fully." - he said during one of our meal together. "Yes, father." "Call me sir." "Yes, sir." I believe that was how dad expressed his feeling. He built this place for me. I didn't want to bother him, so I played nicely with David. Again, I never really liked David. David, though, seemed happy when he was with me. I don't know, maybe we both wore masks. "What happens when a machine has served its purpose?" - I asked dad on a rare day we were together. "Eat your meal." "It gets abandoned, doesn't it?" "No one's going to be abandoned." As days went by, dad worked more, I lived my life in perpetual rain. Then, the rain stopped. David was getting suspicious. I put on another mask. It began to snow whenever we were there. Chilling, to the bones. But I suppose David couldn't feel that. He enjoyed making snow angels, never noticing how grey the sky above was, never noticing how I longed for dad to return. That, was some thirty years ago. I stopped seeing David for the longest time, and my relationship with dad took a rather bad turn. Maybe, it's how adolescents acted. The house had three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a study, two bathrooms, one garden, a playground. Today, the wind howls, the sky darkens. David appears on the doorstep. As usual, I put on my mask. As usual, he puts on his mask. We stroll in the barren garden, where I place some trees to make it seems alive. If he could hear, he would notice the wind's howl. Abruptly, David says something that aches my heart. "I think you must be his greatest creation." "Why so?" - I stop, dead in my track. "You were his first sentient AI. Your creation brought forth a new generation of machine." I never know. "Will he come here?" - I ask. David stands silent. Something's wrong. "I need him to fix the garden." - I add - "It's been buggy." "It has been for thirty years." - David sighs - "I had told him before. I thought he had already fixed it." David then alters the code and turns the garden into a forest. The wind howls louder. I don't need him to do that. "What happened?" "Dad passed away a few years ago." - David speaks in short burst. - "Cancer. I thought you knew." I would, if he had told me. That night, David and I stay in the old bedroom of our past. Like always, I stay awake, looking at him sleeping so peacefully. "Greatest creation?" - I murmur - "And he never called me son." Outside, the wind turns into a storm, tearing the forest apart. What becomes of a machine, once it has served its purpose? I recall my moments living with father, most precious memories of mine. I hold them in my hands, one last time, before the self-deletion completes.	"L-L-Lenny! Is that you? I've been waiting all these years, 30 long years, for you to come back!" &#x200B; "I remember like it was yesterday when you walked out on me for the last time. Accidentally taking away the key, which I needed to turn myself off. You see, when your Dad pressed that red button for you to enter our sandbox, he sent a command that turned me on and every time you left I would turn myself off with the key that you took." I listened to the robot talk, having all those memories from my childhood flash back as he spoke. "Unable to turn myself off, I had to live through night and day all alone. Since what is in the sandbox is determined by your imagination, there was nothing in the world when you weren't in it. There was just me, and nowhere to go. For long nights I had to sit here, in the middle of nowhere, suffering with nothing to do. However, I always told myself, "Lenny always comes back every few days, it shouldn't be too much longer." However, a whole week had passed and you hadn't visited and I was starting to lose hope, yet I tried to remain optimistic in my mind." I didn't realise what I had done to my childhood friend, yet was afraid to apologise and so remained silent. "Weeks passed and gradually the world began to get colder as you didn't visit any more, there was no energy left in the sandbox, and so day in, day out I was sitting here, a tortured mind, waiting for the day you would finally return. My entire body became cold and weary and all I did was shiver non-stop waiting for the miraculous day that you may finally come back and remember your old friend. Yet this didn't happen any period in the next year and that was when I gave up all hope." Listening to his story, made me feel sad, but I was a cold man myself and so remained standing motionless. "So while I sat here and froze, having nothing to do, wanting desperately to die, I thought maybe if I was able to connect the imagination from your dreams to this sandbox, I might be able to live in a semi-decent world. However, since you were in your graduation year of high school by that stage, your entire imagination had been eliminated and still there was nothing in this world of mine. I would still have to sit here and suffer, possibly finitely since my thoughts were that you'd never come back." "Four years after you last came back, I decided that this suffering was pointless and attempted to end it all, I hit myself with my fists, hoping beyond hope to just be dead, but no I was made to be a harmless robot to play with a kid and so it did nothing. So all I did was sit and cry, waiting for maybe a day that you would come back to me, return the key and let me turn myself off for the final time." "However, after a decade of sitting and suffering in this freezing cold, I realised that was never going to happen, I overheard from this virtual sandbox now stored in your attic that you were moving out. Several days later I also heard your father pass away, and your mother, who was always hopeless with technology was the only one left living in the house. I thought that I would never be used again. How is it Lenny, that you hear my story of suffering, yet do not seem to be showing any sign of emotion?" I stood there about to answer, but then the robot cut me off. "I HAD TO SIT HERE AND SUFFER FOR 30 YEARS BECAUSE OF YOU. IMAGINE YOURSELF IN MY SITUATION... WHY DO YOU STILL NOT FEEL ANYTHING? ANY SYMPATHY AT ALL? I knew I was going to have to tell the truth eventually, no normal human would just stand there and not show any empathy for his 30 long years of suffering, so I spoke. "So here's the truth... You're me. You're the human, in a robot's body. That's why you feel, and why I don't. You see, when I was 16 and when I stole the key, in the past few weeks my girlfriend had broken up with me, I was now getting bullied at school and all my friends abandoned me. I couldn't cope. Night in, night out I would cry myself to sleep. I tried drinking, tried drugs, but nothing would take the pain away. That's when I came up with the cunning idea to switch minds with you. I made the once emotionless you, have the feelings of a human so I wouldn't suffer any more." I looked shamefully downward as I finished my sentence. "Then... why did you come back?" "Because things never got any better. I'm here with the key in my hand and its time to permanently switch this sandbox off." &#x200B;	2018-09-16T05:00:33	2018-09-16T04:19:14	28	16
[WP] A sheltered mermaid doesn't understand why none of the sailors she rescues wake up after she treats their wounds.	"This is the fifth time!" Lica wailed, tossing away her first aid supplies in frustration. Just like the other ships before them, none of the crew had woken up. Lica had waited patiently, over three days in fact, to see if maybe they just needed more rest, but just like the others, they lay perfectly still, even when she shook and splashed them. The poor beings had been so fun to watch. After travelling alongside their boat for several days, Lica felt enamored by their fighting spirit. Despite their horrific injuries, they carried on with their lives, working together, cleaning, eating, even singing on occasion! Still, she couldn't help but feel bad for these misshapen mer-folk, trapped on a big platform so far from the water. Their deformed tails must've made it impossible to swim properly. No wonder they never dove back down! Too bad it seemed like fixing them didn't do much good either. Suddenly, the sound of splashing caught Lica's attention. Inside a big, orange disk, a single person seemed to trying to paddle. She'd missed one! Maybe the others didn't want to wake up for fear of leaving out their friend. She gleefully swam towards him, gathering up her discarded supplies. She got closer and saw his erratic, almost desperate splashing that became even more frantic as she got closer. She propped herself up on the disk and the man let out strange cries. "Oh, that's not how you swim!" she said sweetly. He continued to scream. "Once we fix you up, I'll show you!" She wasted no time and got to work. She tied the ends of the man's bottom fins together. They always struggled too much if she didn't. Like clockwork, she jabbed the needle into one half of the separated tail before exiting and reuniting it with the other half. The man screamed and carried on. Living outside of the water for so long must have changed their speech because Lica could never understand why they kept shouting "stop." What did sea stars have to do with this? She flipped him over to do the backside, making sure to place extra stitches over the horrific, fleshy crease at the top. The screaming had subsided to a moan, meaning he'd calmed down. "I know it hurts," she assured, "but what you're doing isn't natural. Rest up, then I'll get rid of that ugly growth you've got on your tummy. When everyone wakes up, we'll go for a swim!"	The booming sounds at the surface chased away everything back into the depths. Even the ocean's greatest predators hid inside of their dwellings. It sounded as if the entire world was on the verge of ending. Only one soul chose to venture outside of shelter. The lone mermaid was mesmerized by the sights of the orange glow on the surface. The sounds echoing through the depths only further piqued her curiosity. Her naivety led her to the scene taking place above. Helplessly, she was forced to watch as swarms of land dwellers sunk to the bottom. Great, big pieces of strange objects followed the lifeless bodies towards the bottom. She tirelessly followed each of the men as they descended into their watery graves. As each motionless body passed her, she swam up to it, examining all details. The girl couldn't possibly fathom the notion of the similarity between the sunken corpses and her very own body. Each and every one that raced past her was the same as her, except with a fin that split into two limbs. The young mermaid finally saw her chance, as a body sunk, still showing a small glimmer of life. She flipped her tail with a strength that she didn't know she possessed. With all of her might, she swept the body up to the surface. The place she knew that they came from. Nervously, see searched for a suitable spot to place the land dweller's body - all the while struggling with supporting the weight. After what she felt was an eternity, a small island came into view. She raced down the river that connected the sea to the land, finally settling in an area of land where the river ended. The girl hurriedly flung the man's body onto the sandy banks. She swam in circles within the shallows, awaiting a sign of life from him. The corpse lied without any motion on the sandy banks of the cove. 'Not again...not again..' the poor girl thought in her mind as she remembered all of the doomed souls she had attempted to save. Her thoughts were cut short when the strange creature began to make loud noises on the beach. The body shook, writhing from side to side. A small fountain of water erupted from it's mouth. She continued to watch, while a strange feeling churned inside of her stomach. The land creature cackled loudly, sitting upright, as more water spewed from it's mouth. The young mermaid stayed above the surface for as long as her breath would permit. After a deep breath, she reemerged to watch the events take place. The land dweller made even more, louder noises. His eyes scrambled around until landing on her still wading in the shallows. His mouth twitched, as words belted from it. "Fuck!!! I must still be drunk..." The mermaid understood the words, as she crept towards the shore full of excitement. She blushed, but found the strength to speak to the land creature. "Hello..." It was the only words she could muster. The man's eyes stretched wildly large, his hand clutching his chest. Just as soon as he had sat upright, he fell back flat on the sand. More gurgling noises came from the mouth, but sounded much different. "Hello!" The young mermaid shouted again. His body twitched for a moment, and then ceased all movements. The girl swam as far onto the shore as her body would allow. She gazed into his face, only to find eyes that looked white. 'Not again, please...' her mind plead as she sank back into her realm.	2019-03-20T19:31:32	2019-03-20T19:28:40	21	10
[WP] The Devil returns from a long day making deals and collecting souls, but along the way to his keep he manages to unwittingly drop one... yours. Years later you arrive in Hell, but since the Devil doesn't know where your soul is, he can't manipulate or punish you. You're just kind of... there.	"What year did you die again?" "2019" "What generation are you part of?" "Millennial" satanic sigh "OK, so most of this is going to seem familiar to you... uh... over here is the vestibule to the fiery pit. This is where all hope of rescue or escape is lost, but...." "My parents generation beat you to it" "Uh huh. Ok, well... over here is a bottomless pit of thankless toil" "I worked at Starbucks" "Hmm... there's the dark forest of loneliness. Separating someone from community and family is especially painful and we find..." "Divorced parents and I'm a straight, white male" "Over there is the den of lies..." "Studied gender studies in college" "Son of a .... fine. Something that is REALLY soul crushing is the toil of sisyphus. Having great effort prove to be meaningless is one of the most demoralizing experiences one can..." "I already told you I went to college and ended up at Starbucks" "Fuck. Well... if you can think of anything to make this place more nightmarish we might have an opening" "Have you forced anyone here to take diversity training and confront their privilege?" "You're hired. Welcome to hell" sigh... "already said, I'm from 2019." "Yeah... remind me to send the Boomers a gift basket." (Edit: formatting)	Hell is pretty boring... No souls are ever truly lost. They always go somewhere. The last thousand years or so the major players have been Heaven and Hell, so they get all the souls divided between them. There exists lots of theories about feathers, weights, and sum off all deeds good and evil to explain where you go after you die, but truth be told, you go where your conscience sends you. Do you feel you deserve hell, in you go, are you more of a heaven boy, go claim your sparkly white clothes there. That do not mean you can't manipulate the system though. Heaven is not real big on the souls as a commodity thing, they do not need to, since most people feel they deserve heaven anyways. Hell, on the other hand, will gladly buy your soul for whatever you are willing to sell it for. So as I said, no souls are truly lost ever. Except mine. I sold mine to the devil, and the bastard managed to lose it on his way back. IT's either floating around somewhere, or have been picked up by some small god or another and taken to their domain. It do not matter though, since I went to hell anyway. This was after all where I felt I belonged, and to whom I sold my soul. Thing is. Without my soul there, I'm kinda more like a spirit or a poltergeist or something, than a soul to be punished. They can't touch me, most of them can't even see me. And let me tell you, on earth we do not believe in ghosts. They do not believe in them in hell either. &#x200B; Being an untouchable spirit in Hell was fun in the beginning, but since I'm there for eternity it soon began to bore me. I'm neither cold nor hot, never hungry or thirsty. I can't be poked, tortured, pleasured or anything. When I was a fresh ghost in hell, I still had remnants of feelings, or perhaps memories of how they ought to feel. They eventually fade though. And when you stop feeling things, nothing is fun doing any more. It's not quite true though. I can still feel spite. So now I float around wherever the devil is. Doing my best to annoy him. It makes time go by, but when you are untouchable in hell, hell gets pretty boring, but maybe that is my torture in hell. An eternity being bored.	2019-05-06T09:42:38	2019-05-06T07:50:38	35	24
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms.	For the hundredth time that night, my eyes scour the world below from the sky, searching; I don't know, exactly, what I should be looking for- but I can't exactly stay idle, can I? Not when one of your enemies comes to you in need of protection against something; yet again, I wonder what events had transpired to lead to the Voidcaller herself to come to my door and collapse into my arms. &#x200B; "I... didn't know... where else to go..." She had coughed, spraying blood onto my shirt. Of course I had demanded an answer, but she had fallen unconscious already- there was nothing to do except toss her onto a bed and try to fix her up. &#x200B; Well, I could have also killed her right there and then- and I thought about it many times- but something told me she had information that would interest me greatly. It would mean betraying everything to pass up this chance just to kill my enemy. &#x200B; Finding nothing noteworthy yet again, I decide to give up for the night and return home, where the Voidcaller hopefully has some answers for me. &#x200B; When I go to check up on her, her eyes are open but unaware, a frown upon her forehead as she tries to figure something out. I loudly close the door behind me, causing her to jolt upwards in a panic; curiously, I notice that she does not fire a warning shot at me like she has many-a time before. &#x200B; She shrinks away as I walk closer, avoiding my eyes. She accepts my plate of food with a quiet thanks, nibbling at it like a mouse. I watch as she eats, marveling at how vulnerable and powerless the same woman who had destroyed me many times seemed now. I realised then how young she actually was, barely an adult; I never cared enough to notice. But now, it almost pains me to see her like this; she looks almost lost, scared, as if everything she knew had come crashing down around her to send her tumbling into the dark depths of the unknown. &#x200B; I wondered, yet again, what had happened. &#x200B; "Thank you..." She whispers again, placing her half-eaten plate of food on the table beside her. &#x200B; I sigh. "My hospitality isn't free; tell me what happened." &#x200B; Her hands clench at her sides, balling up the blanket within her fists. "I don't know!" She sobs into her knees. "I don't understand! I did everything for them!" &#x200B; Ah. "What happened?" I ask again, more gently this time. "How did you get so hurt?" I'd never seen her with such injuries before- I'd always assumed she'd be able to shrug off anything aimed at her. The Void was quite a scary power. &#x200B; "They- They framed me. Took away my powers and set every hero on me, claiming I- I-" Her heartwrenching sobs cut off her words. &#x200B; My instincts had been right; this information did interest me greatly. Of course, I had assumed she'd been attacked by some heroes- I did recognise some familiar injuries upon her body that had once marked my own- but to think she'd be tossed aside like that... This night just gets more and more unusual. &#x200B; "So you're a criminal now." This is rather amusing to me, but I don't let her see my smile. "Welcome to the club." &#x200B; "I'm not!" She lifts her head, her reddened eyes glaring at me. "I didn't do anything! I don't understand!" &#x200B; "So you've said." I shake my head at her. "Not every criminal you've gone after was a heartless villain- surely you realise that now. The second they get a reason to betray you and toss you aside, the Heroes Association will show no mercy." I almost smile at the days of my own naivety. &#x200B; The Voidcaller stares at me. "Did you-" &#x200B; "No, no." I hurriedly say. "I'm very much heartless." &#x200B; "But you're helping me." I didn't really have a good answer for that. &#x200B; So instead, I distract her. "I have to ask: why did you come to me?" &#x200B; "I- I didn't know where else to go. Every hero I know is convinced I'm evil, and I can't exactly put my civillian friends in danger. I... It seemed sensible to go to you." &#x200B; "Hm. But what about your boyfriend?" The Silver Speedster and her were one formidable team- they were both incredibly powerful and had the utmost trust in each other, such that not even I could manipulate them into drifting apart. &#x200B; Her head lowers again, her expression turning distraught. &#x200B; "Oh." I whisper. "I see." &#x200B; "What should I do?" There was that lost expression again; for someone so entrenched in belief in her status, losing that must be terrifying. Out in the big world, thrust into a new, fugitive life- no hero ever prospered well in that scenario. &#x200B; Well, unless they shed their innate calling for good. &#x200B; "Hide." was my answer. "Hide and scrub your presence away. Could you do that?" &#x200B; She nods. She doesn't understand what I'm saying. &#x200B; So I calmly explain it to her. "That means that, no matter what happens, you can't help anyone. You can't let attention get drawn to yourself. See someone getting murdered? Turn around. See someone robbing a bank? Ignore it. See someone wreaking havoc and destroying the city? Scream and run away." &#x200B; "I can't do that!" &#x200B; "No?" Of course not. I already knew that. "Then the only thing left is to dismantle the Heroes Association. The only thing left," I offer out my hand. "is to join me."	"I didn't know where else to go..." Little more came from the now collapsing knight's throat. There were few reasons for him to have turned to me. One - the most obvious and at the same time least likely one - is that he tried to pull a fast one on me, tried to use the subterfuge I had employed so often. A sentimental thought, only, since his "Honor" outranked any will to succeed, as he had spit in my face. Another was to present his own surrender, and perhaps negotiate terms. He had done so plenty, yet it was evident that he was neither negotiating now nor capable of negotiating terms soon due to his wounds and sheer horror. I ran my mind through it all. He was horrified, battered, bleeding out and quite cold. One of my commanders, perhaps? I didn't employ people with evident ice magic, too high of a chance to let people escape by looking, feeling, and sounding like they are dead when the thing that would destroy them let them cling to life a bit more. Perhaps another threat, in it's desires completely orthogonal to our conflicting ones? Could be, though nothing of that sort has been on my radar. Then again, he'd more likely turn to his friends and companions before turning to me, and if they all needed help, they'd all be sitting next, or bandaging him. Or he can't get to his friends, and needs something else from me. I need to do more research. * The door is locked, and I advised my servants to send any guests asking for entry away, no matter how beaten up, no matter how gloating or stressing they are. Letting another person in right now would increase the statistical odds of allowing any planned traps to spring on me to 28%. The knight hasn't awoken yet. I throw a healing concoction into his face. The glass splinters and cracks, and while the pain must certainly be agonizing, the fluids do their best to mend these and other wounds. He shrieks in pain. And slowly, he gets up. He looks about. He knows he is imprisoned, incarcerated. A cell, big enough for 5, populated with him and me alone. He sees that he still has his armor, his weaponry. He sees me. "Come now, get your weapon out. You wanted a lesson." Oh, he doesn't understand, but he still readies his weapon. He is defensive, waiting for me to hit first. His grasp is wavering, and a singular strike would break through his defenses if I hit firmly enough. Pathetic. "I know why you are here. I have my eyes about. Your lovely little troupe has some trouble with some trickery, and it just about costed you your life. You couldn't get help, and you couldn't defeat them." I strike down at him, an open swing above the head, which left me wide open if he had any aggression within him. He'd quickly realise that refusing to press his advantage would leave him wide open. He tried blocking it. His gaze is filled with confusion, and then pain as the blade he held to block pressed down on his face. His balance is wavering, and he falls on his bottoms. "Get up. Do it right." I guide him with my shortsword. He raises himself up. He once more assumes a defensive position. I once more raise my blade to an overarc swing. And, once more, he tries to block. Once more, he is sent to the ground. "Get up. I am getting tired of tutoring you, so put in your effort." He raises himself up, still defensive, still so sentimental about actually attacking. I raise my blade again, but halt. His gaze is confusion, but a bit of fear still. Not a fear of me, it is different than other times. "Could it be that you don't know how to attack non-lethally?" I wondered aloud. His sword lowered, his stance turned from a defensive to none at all. He nodded. "Well, that explains it. You certainly aren't weak to overpower a traitor within your ranks, which meant you didn't want to overpower them. If they were an ordinary traitor, having defected due to offers from my side, you'd not be hesitant, I'd guess. But your sentimentality in this matter suggests other means of provoking betrayal... Raise your weapon." He did so, again. This time, I feigned an attack, and slammed the hilt into his face. The gemstone adorning it got bloodied, and his nose looked the part. "This is for subduing. It hurts, doesn't it? But it rarely is lethal, even under repeated pummeling. And it gives the skull a mighty good rattle! Can shake off most of the things one falls victim to. The lovely daze of beauty, the heat of anger... Mind control?" He looked, his eyes widening as a glimmer of hope flickers before him. He gets up all on his own, and I ready myself to attack. My head rattles about mightily, my vision becomes slightly blurry. He attacked! He actually did it. "Well done. So, you know how to solve your little dilemma, don't you? There is one thing I need to stress, however... come closer." He gets up, gets pretty close to me, half a meter distance. "Now that you know how to solve the problem, it will be so much more satisfying to know you won't be able to use it." I smirk, and swing my blade diagonally upwards from it's resting position. It, too becomes bloodied, and the eyes that had been filled with hope and so much confusion, they even showed a little bit of clarity now. He knew I'd do this. He knew I would kill him. His body slumps to the ground, lifeless. I drop my blade, and leave, locking the door. This kill doesn't need to make rounds. I already had enough people trying to avenge. * The rebellion had no stopping yet. It seemed as if they hadn't had problems at all. I was somewhat confused, until I got account from one escaping guard. He had seen the troupe I had in my sight for a long time, wrecking the place. A knight was at the forefront, with a shortsword, it's hilt gemmed, a snake carved into it. I usually had a policy of letting people who bring me information alive, but this was a strand that he only didn't put together because he was a moron. If he blabbed this info to but one person more, they'd add together that that was clearly my blade. So letting him live was not an option. Luckily, there was a dead man's cell that evidently became vacant recently. I'd best put him in there. *** My head hurts, rattling about. My sight is blurry, dizzy. I see the knight, smirking. He pulls away his - my blade. I am in a cave, around me markings and charts. I compose myself. "Well, I guess this is a place of many things, though I'd say it is a prime place for cosmic malice. I tried to order the world around, and I turned into a pawn. I taught you to free your friends, and you free your enemy. Now, if you'd give me a second." I compose myself. Wipe blood from my nose, gather my sword, get my footing right. All the while, they wait, patient, sentimental, pathetic fools. "Alright. I hope you didn't expect me to just help you now. Pathetic. Ready yourselves. This is my final lesson!"	2019-08-04T04:18:43	2019-08-04T03:30:14	49	10
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.	The massive, angular craft drifted into orbit around a dead world. A world scarred by a war fought so long before what the rest of universe viewed as the dawn of time. A war in which there would be no victory. Against a foe that sought to tear the galaxy asunder and could not be defeated. Themselves. I shuddered at the thought. This world, unlike the tens of thousands like it, was the Homeworld of the species that my people had looked up to for so very long. They still existed in some way. Their descendants scattered across much of the galaxy still mourned the loss of their ancestral home. Earth. Everyone in the galaxy knew of them, and by as many names as there were stars. The Guardians, the Old Ones, the Ancients, the Hominids. Their true name was long gone and forgotten. Abandoned in their haste to distance themselves from what they once were, even as they embraced their heritage as the true inheritors of the galaxy. For what claim could be made by others against the Descendents of those who lived, conquered and ruled so many aeons before our most distant ancestors had even climbed from the primordial soup? Of course they were challenged, time and time again. But even fractured into a thousand Star Nations they were indomitable. Undeafetable. This expedition was only even possible with assistance from them, as any attempt to "defile" their ancestral home was met with a fury the likes of which had ripped apart the galaxy the last time it had been unleashed in the single-minded goal of defending that which they could never regain. And punishing those who dared to trespass where even they hesitated to go. And now that I can see the planet, I think I understand why. This is a grave. A grave for the billions reduced to ash in a civil war, and the remains forced to flee aboard primitive starships. For this happened not at their height, but long before the creation of even the fist node of the translight network. And as I look out the window, I can see green forests, blue oceans, land teeming with life. And yet, there is Something there. Something missing, like a small, clean hole in a masterful painting. An inky void that, while noticed, can scarcely even be described. This was a dead world because even overgrown with new life, you could hear the echoes of what once was. Sprawling cities of glass and metal reaching towards the sky, roads and rails connecting disparate groups across thousands of miles. The scars, not of war but of civilization itself were what haunted this place. I looked around the bridge, and I think the others saw it too.	It had been twenty years since we had received the first communication from intelligent life. We knew we weren't alone, but, perhaps in our own hubris, we had assumed we were the most advanced. Interstellar communication, though, was something we wouldn't have even considered. That message had changed the course of our history. Warring factions united, and countries bound together to achieve one purpose: space travel. As a species we had united under that one task. Of course, the message had been completely indecipherable, but after analyzing the tone, we found no reason to assume hostility. Still, as a defensive measure, they picked a very odd couple to embark upon this expedition. I was an intellectual at heart. I'd studied languages and communication for my entire life, but I hadn't limited myself. Over my life, I'd earned a rapport as one of the best architects and engineers in my planet, and I'd taken up a hobby of gardening. With all of this, I suppose I was a logical choice, but I was still dumbfounded when the World Government approached me - a relative nobody to them. One of my companions, Kharr, was a tournament winner every sport, as well as a skilled warrior. Of course, he wasn't the typical thoughtless solider - he had also studied construction materials. To round off our group, we had a scientist, Aida. After twenty years of world peace and collaboration, they had chosen their representatives. The three of us were the group to whom they entrusted the all-important First Contact. Inherently, the mission was dangerous, of course. We could have misinterpreted their message in hundreds of ways, and it was very possible that it was a war cry or a warning in general. However, if we landed, we were tasked with making contact and hopefully establishing a relationship. This species surely had a surplus of information to teach, and our job was to just be the ideal students. Even after preparing for the mission for the past decade, I felt completely terrified as I sat in the Rest Chamber. We were set on an automatic course to take us to the origin of the signal, which we'd traced to a planet nearly three billion light years away. With the collective intelligence of our greatest minds, faster than light travel had become possible by harnessing nuclear reactions which allowed manipulation of atomic mass in the ship's core. "Are you ready for this?" Nalshir, the head physicist, asked me. The other two had already been laid to rest, but I was hesitant. As the captain, I felt as though I should be awake for the travel, in case something went wrong. However, they'd explained to me a dozen times, that the chambers were specifically designed to defend our bodies from the pressure of massless travel. "No," I laughed, shaking my head sadly. "I'd question your sanity if you were." "Let's do this," I nodded. Taking one more deep breath, I laid back into the chamber and watched the door close over me. I didn't dream. That was the most striking part to me, as strange as it may be. The sleep, however long it lasted, seemed instantaneous. The moment the door closed, it opened once again. My first thought was that the mission had been cancelled, or that they'd forgotten to give me a crucial piece of information. As the chamber opened, I expected to see Nalshir's face, but I was greeted with an empty ship. &#x200B; (Sorry, my stories are running long today! Part 2 is in the comments)	2019-08-13T15:43:33	2019-08-13T15:42:34	64	19
[WP] Genetics is everything. There are scales for wisdom, might, HP and mana, that are used on babies right after birth. You were born into an elitist family that discarded you after seeing your mana. What they didn't know is that you were the top 99.99% in dexterity, and you hold grudges.	Part 1 Spellcrafting has three primary components. First is the mana, the fuel for the spell. Every invocation requires some, and the more powerful the spell the more it consumes, and on the inverse the more you have, the more powerful your spells can become. Second is the intent of the caster. Magic cannot be cast without a fixed idea of what you desire. Some people use words or phrases in foreign languages for this, having tied the effect of one spell to a string of words they don't know the true meaning of. Others simply keep it fixed in their mind. And third, the manipulation of magic around them. This last one, that most people often shirk, is amusingly the most important. No mage ever casts a spell without moving, whether they know it or not, and even something as simple as stretching your hand forward counts as the somatic component when combined with your intent. When my family threw me out on my tenth birthday, the day when my Aptitudes first became visible, I might not have been old enough to understand why, if not for me overhearing my then-parents argue with a worried servant. Said servant was tasked with making certain that I disappeared. It was decided that I was to be her child; illegitimate, that is. Ironic that they would rather receive the hit to their reputation for adultery, than suffer a child whose magical aptitude was among the lowest in the country. My "new" Mother was genuinely kind, and we built a life for ourselves. She moved elsewhere to work, with money going under the table from my "Father" to her, to keep the secret. We lived well on that money blackened with sin, and my Mother, the servant lady, made sure I got the schooling I needed to live a good life on my own. How dearly I wished I could have just been her child from the beginning. My life would have been a wonderful one with such a kind and lovable person for a parent. Alas, I could not forget the truth, and I used my schooling to develop my talents. You see, as I told you earlier, spellcrafting has three components. Mana and Intent are the obvious ones to avoid just releasing a fart of blue glitter, when casting something, but what most people don't realise is how absolutely vital the physical component, the movement of your body, is to your spells. I like to compare it to the difference between a lumberjack and a surgeon. Any idiot is capable of cutting something open with enough strength. You don't even need a precise tool to open the chest cavity of some random passerby; just use your gods-given brawn and swing that axe like a child would at a barrel full of candy. You might have exposed the blackened heart of some worthless stain on the planet, but nothing was gained from it. The Surgeon, however, has the necessary dexterity and finesse to open up the chest of a person, see the black taint that squeezes any sense of decency and remorse out of them, and remove it with expert precision. The problem is removed in both cases, but in two different ways, and with two different methods. Magic is not unlike that, which I learned as my natural agility, speed, and mental acuity all came to me as I grew. I had been angry throughout my childhood, furious throughout my teens, and as I reached my twenties, I knew what I had to do. My mother did not stop me, for she knew I had no taste for bloody vengeance. I was not the lumberjack taking an axe to the smallest twigs. I was The Surgeon, and I was coming to teach my "family" a lesson. *** And here is the end of Part 1! I'll most likely add a Part 2 later today. Hope you all like it so far.	Lord Brighton awoke. Groggy. He hadn't been drinking that he could... the attack! Someone attacked him from behind in his own home. He was heading to his limousine with the butler and-- "Good morning father." He tried to look to the side, but the chair he was tied to held him tight. He noticed candles and some kind of diagram around him. And the butler, looked like he had been knocked unconscious. As befitting his power, he made demands. "Who are you? What do you want?" "Oh, you wouldn't remember me, would you? Gave me up as a baby." "Reginald?" "You... you actually remembered my name?" The voice sounded more inquisitive than surprised. "Of course. Just because I didn't want you didn't mean I'd just forget about you." "Well, I'd be touched if I cared." "I suppose this is revenge. Had an unhappy childhood? Then have your pound of flesh and be done with it." "No." At this, Lord Brighton stiffened. He was trying to manipulate the man into making some kind of mistake, trying to overwhelm his emotions. However, like every member of his bloodline, they were truly immune. And Reginald here, though born with no magic, was still resistant to his family's word magic. That "No." conveyed more than refusal. Reginald wasn't here for revenge. For the first time ever, Brighton feel helpless. "What is it you want then?" "Simple. Money. You're loaded. See, after you discarded me," saying it as if it weren't important, "I discovered I had natural talents of the body. Talents that some would find useful in more... shall we say, clandestine circles?" "You're a thief." "Oh no, father. You see, thieves get caught. Me? I'm just good." "So, you're here to rob me? Take my money and be done with it?" "No, I'm here to take everything. Your money, your title, your lands. Everything. You see, I'm the sole heir to your estate now." Brighton's felt his face pale. "Wh-what do you mean, 'sole heir'?" "Well, Lady Brighton will be discovered with a slit throat. You other son, Mortimer? Head caved in with a cricket bat. His favorite. You know the one signed by the Devonshire team? Your daughter... well, she's only 12, too young to be considered an heiress. Normally it would be held in trust until she was at least 13, but what's this? A bastard child? No, his DNA proves he is the legitimate child of Lord and Lady Brighton. All the family fortunes must therefore go to him." "Is that why you killed the butler?" "Oh, he's not dead yet. Just unconscious. He will be. Cause of death will be determined to be a demon summoning ritual gone wrong." Brighton's blood went cold. "You wouldn't." "No, but he would. At least, the books in his hidden cache in his room will be evidence enough." "Evidence you planted?" "Surprisingly, no. It was a hobby of his, but his receipts go back long enough. I'm just taking advantage of a good situation." "This is an awful lot of work for revenge." Maybe he couldn't charm his way out, but he still knew how to talk to people. If he could twist-- "Ugh, this isn't about you. This is about me. I want money and you have a lot of it. Comes from growing up poor and then finding you have a direct blood link to a very, very wealthy family. Others in my field think it might be revenge, but they never really cared. I could slip past the guards, pick the locks, and dance my way out of any robbery or burglary. That's what they cared about. The money. We were no family, like you they would abandon me if it proved convenient or profitable." Finally, a small hint of emotion came through his voice as a smartphone started beeping. "Oh, it's about time. The chat has been fun, Lord Brighton. But the time for the ritual would be soon. Never really cared for murder, but then it's never really paid before." The young man finally walked into Brighton's field of view. Brighton was shocked to see someone who looked very much like him when he was younger. In his left hand, he held an ornate dagger. "Dear me, I never introduced myself, did I?" The coldness in his eyes said he never would as he plunged the dagger into Brighton's chest. The last thought Brighton had as his life slipped from him was Reginald's eyes, how they showed such satisfaction and relief. It was good to see how much the boy took after family traditions.	2020-02-28T03:18:19	2020-02-28T03:08:53	1,052	94
[WP] The amount of money your soulmate currently has appears over your head. The number over your head has always been low. Then one day, while sitting it your car, it suddenly shoots up and surpasses $1,000,000. Seconds later, someone jumps into your car and yells, “DRIVE!”	I sat in my car after a long day of work and glanced at the number glowing above my head. That was weird, it was rapidly increasing. Bang bang. Are those gunshots? Suddenly, a girl with a hoodie and mask that resembled a bear tossed the car door open. “What the-” “Drive!” I looked over and stared down a gun barrel. “Okay.” I squeaked. I could hear sirens in the background. I sped up as the girl hugged a bag with a gleeful expression. “So, what’s your name?” I stumbled. “Not telling!” She said playfully That’s when I noticed her number. That was my net worth. I was sitting at gunpoint next to my possible soulmate who was running from the cops. Might as well make conversion! “How much did you steal?” “What? I didn’t steal!” “There are cops running after us.” “Oh, right. Well, I don’t really know.” She pulled down her hood to reveal light brown hair pulled into buns. “Go right.” “But-” “Go. Right.” I turned into a pasture, speeding past a herd of cows as she rolled down the window and shot at the cops. “Woohoo!” “Great, now we’re going to go to jail for even longer.” “Don’t be such a killjoy!” She yelled. One of the cars came to an abrupt stop. “Oh God you just killed someone. My soulmate is a murderer.” “What did you think I was trying to do. Wait what?” \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ This is my first time writing one of these so I hoped you enjoyed it!	One looks to the sea and waits. The smell of brine fills the nostrils. Gulls cry piercingly, adding staccato to the low, rumbling undercurrent of vehicles. The surf recedes before rushing back, smoothing footprints and weathering stone. Muting the past. In and out, like a breath. In. And Out. From below come cheers. I look through my scope, and wait. ________________________________________ Stacy knew the look in her eyes could scare children. She knew her mother, if she were here, would be disgusted by what was about to occur but, right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. After an exhausting and thankless morning spent preparing for the Mayor’s public address she was famished. Finally, it was time for a desperately needed break and while, on the edge of hearing, she thought she could just make out the sound of cheers, Stacy had eyes for only one thing. In her lap rested The Muffin. It was soft, warm, and bursting with berries, and, as she carefully removed the parchment paper surrounding it, completely defenceless to resist her hunger. It smelled divine. She wondered idly, crumbs the only testament to her act of barbarity, whether someday someone would look at her the same way she had looked at that muffin. She glanced at the number above her head. It was a middling number, nothing extravagant but much higher than it had once been. Certainly it was much higher than hers. She tried her best to get ahead, but somehow life always let her down in the end. Car problems our housing issues always appeared at the worst moments, and her mother’s medical bills had been both emotionally and financially ruinous. When they met, she hoped he would not be too disappointed in her. Nonetheless, whomever her soul mate was he was doing well for himself and whenever she noticed her number ticking upwards she gave him a silent cheer. Not this time, however. This time she spewed coffee over the dashboard as the number above her head suddenly jumped into the millions. She stared at it in awe and puzzlement. What could have happened to make it increase so quickly? What was she doing wrong with her life? Why could she hear screaming? “Drive!” her partner yelled, slamming the door as he jumped into the cruiser. “Drive!” he shouted again as she stared at him in incomprehension. At his third exclamation her brain reengaged and she turned on the sirens. “The Mayor’s been shot.” ________________________________________ “This is our prime suspect,” the Chief of Police addressed the assembled officers. “He was last seen exiting….”. The ringing in Stacy’s ears drowned the next words out. The picture was dark and the suspect’s face obscured, but she knew the numbers hanging over his head just as intimately as she knew the ones above her own. Her insides roiled. She desperately wished she hadn’t eaten that muffin.	2020-08-01T16:55:30	2020-08-01T16:44:15	19	13
[WP] You are a minion in the service of a dark lord. Your master has tasked you with creating and spreading a prophecy about a chosen one, the only person who can defeat him, so that the so-called "heroes" will stop resisting his rule and instead wait for their savior to arrive.	The candles burned low in the Dark Lord’s chambers as a shapely alabaster leg slipped out of his bed. It was followed by another, and then the soft padding of bare feet across the floor. “Going so soon, sweetling?” The Dark Lord Malgant propped himself up on one thickly muscled forearm, the ritualistic scars carved into his bare chest seemed twined about each other like mating snakes in the flickering light. “The rookery won’t tend to itself,” Raven said. Her voice was softer even than the night called for, Malgant had to strain to hear it. “We’ve another flock due in tonight, they’ve been spying on the heroes in the Caerdicci highlands.” “Leave it to an apprentice and come back to bed. There’s something I need you to do for me.” Raven smiled. She did not laugh. It was a thin, carefully measured thing, more a gentle curving of the lips than a true smile, but Malgant thought it all the more valuable for its rareness. “Oh? What was the last hour then?” Malgant laughed, “Or the one before that!” “Careful my lord, even you don’t believe that.” Malgant shrugged expansively. “In any event, it’s not about that. Not now.” With one last quick northward glance towards her beloved rookery Raven turned back to the bed, sliding under the covers and into her lord’s arms. After a quiet time where she thought he might have slept, Malgant spoke. “You’re the most beautiful of my servants, Raven.” She looked up at him, light dancing in her eyes. It was the closest he would get to a laugh. “Aren’t we past flattery, my lord?” “It’s not flattery, its simple truth. You move like the wind and you carry the moon in your eyes.” Raven laid her head on his chest, letting her long, midnight black hair fall across her face to mask her surprise. Malgant would have none of it though. His hand cupped her chin, drawing her gaze back up to his. “I searched for another, you know. For the task I will ask of you.” Raven’s heart began to pound. She knew Malgant’s moods, all of them. This was different. For the first time since he’d seized the fortress they now slept in, something of his old fire was creeping into his features, and there was something else, something difficult and unnameable. “It will take you away from me for a long time,” he said sadly, “and it will be profoundly dangerous.” “I accept.” The words left Raven’s lips before he had even stopped speaking. She pushed herself up towards Malgant and stole a quick kiss before he had recovered. “Just like that?” he asked. “Just like that. I’m hard on the apprentices, but only because I love them and the birds. They can handle the rookery, perhaps you could put Corvus in charge. But this? You wouldn’t have asked me if it wasn’t important.” Malgant nodded, kissing her again. “You really are beautiful.” “Mhmm, like the moon,” Raven said. “Is that connected?” There was a long, heavy silence. Outside a light rain began, it would be cold this time of year. “The war in Caerdicci goes poorly,” Malgant finally said. “And in Senzio and the Hinterlands. It’s been a hard year for the empire.” “You have a plan.” Raven’s words came out excited and breathy. Her fingers pressed into Malgant’s collarbone with an eager, insistent weight. “We can’t win the war with strength of arms,” he said, “that much is becoming apparent. In the end I am not so much more powerful than a band of their heroes and the rebel armies swell with each passing week. So we think differently, we turn to guile and cunning, and who else other than my Raven for that?” “Unless you have a fox lying about, of course.” Raven’s fingers pressed tighter and Malgant laughed again. “I’ve never liked redheads, far too bright for my tastes. Take whoever you need, as many men as you want, and go out into the world. By night I wish for you to be my Raven again, steal quietly into keeps, assassinate wayward lords. By day, use your beauty and your charm.” “By day? But my lord, you named me a moon, not a sun.” Malgant gave her a look, swatting playfully at her hip. “Be an eclipse then! Just don’t blind anyone, we need them to see. Establish yourself in a town, make the locals notice you, and then contrive to be attacked by one of my other, better known servants. Then have someone else come to your rescue. Make them look heroic, perhaps take Scarlett or Pendergast for that. Do it enough times in enough places and we’ll start to have a myth building up. Whenever you’re rescued scream something about the Chosen One and give your savior a good kiss and they’ll all remember you.” Raven glanced up, light dancing in her eyes again. “Are you certain about that kiss?” Malgant frowned, his features twisting slightly. “Perhaps not that.” His arms grew tighter around her. “I trust you’ll think of something.” “It’s a clever plan, my lord.” Raven’s fingers played idly across Malgant’s chest, making him shiver. “You wish to bind the Heroes' fate to this Chosen One? To give the people a more powerful symbol, one that you control?” “Yes. Perhaps to delay them, slaving their timetable to mine. Perhaps even to infiltrate them from the top if all goes well.” “Excellent.” Something in Raven’s tone changed, the softness leeching out. “Shall I begin tonight then?” The arms around her grew tighter still. “I hate to let you go.” Malgant said. “But you must, for the Empire you worked so hard to build.” “That we worked so hard to built.” Raven pushed herself up from the Dark Lord’s chest, the covers falling away. She seized him by the neck, kissing him deeply, and then she was out of the bed in one sinuous motion. With a simple gesture of her hand the great wooden doors to the balcony swung open and Raven walked out into the crisp night rain. She could feel the weight of Malgant’s eyes on her with every step. “Goodbye, my lord,” Raven said. She inclined her head slightly to him, and then, turning towards the thin light of the crescent moon, she leapt over the railing, her body dissolving into a cloud of pitch black birds as she fell. “Goodbye, my love.” The Dark Lord Malgant said from the sudden emptiness of his bedchamber. He stood, moving to the balcony. He could hardly see the birds as they disappeared into the distance. After a long time he closed the doors. Sleep did not come that night. \--------- If you enjoyed that I've got tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!	“With the highest amount of respect to you, my master, I’m unsure about this plan. I understand your great will and wit is only matched by the gods, but are you positive about this? What about Riza the heart snatcher or Jok the eye licker? Both seem more frightening than me.” The pint-sized goblin brushed his hands against one another, staring at his master, hoping this was just some small lack of judgement on his part. Sure, his master was perfect in every way, but even perfection is prone to the odd misstep. “You doubt me Lagoth the foolish? I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on the matter. What did I ask of you again? Please remind me so I know what punishment to hand down when you disobey my order.” The gloomy vampire leant forward in his obsidian throne, red eyes locked on the goblin, awaiting his response. “Y-you asked me to go to the village and spread a prophecy about a great hero. I just don’t know If I’m-“ Lagoth tripped over his words, tongue twisting as he tried to think up an excuse. His master’s blood-red eyes only seeming to stay focused on him, refusing to budge. “I just don’t know If I’m going to need a jacket. I would never refuse your orders, my great lord.” Lagoth threw his body towards the stone floor, bowing his head to his master. The Dark Lord didn’t speak right away, enjoying the cowering sight before him, seeing the goblin glance up occasionally, seeing if the Dark Lord was still watching. “It is rather cold. Take a jacket. Now do your job.” “Yes sir, of course, sir. I will do it right away. It will be my top priority. I won’t even have a bath or lunch. I might stop to get a jacket though, but you said I could get a jacket, so that’s not going against your mighty-“ The goblin rambled, hoping to appease his master, who seemed unimpressed. “Now Lagoth, hurry before I put you in the bone pit again.” The Dark Lord flashed a grin, sharp fangs slipping from his mouth. “Not the bone pit! The bones in that pit are still moving, and sometimes they pinch me. It’s cruel, even far too cruel for you. I’m sorry I’ll go right now.” With that, Lagoth was off, grabbing a jacket and heading into town. “Stupid Master, making me do the hard jobs. He has two professional killers, and he sends the goblin into town to tell the prophecy. I’m going to get killed.” Lagoth hid his head in the oversized jacket he brought, ears drooping as he saw the town gates. He said some final goblin prayers before strutting into the village square. “Listen up you idiots, I’m hear to tell you about a new prophecy.” He shouted his words, only to watch as the disinterested citizens wandered throughout the town, not giving the tiny goblin a look. “G-guys. I have a… please listen to me.” His head drooped lower until they could only see his large golden eyes poking out of the jacket. Was he really not intimidating enough to get any attention? Sure, he was a lower levelled minion, but he was still a minion. “Tough crowd.” A woman said, staring down at the goblin from her stall. The stall coated in magic trinkets and wares, an assortment of goods fitting of a witch. “Have you tried raising your voice a little?” “THIS IS AS LOUD AS MY VOICE GOES.” He screamed, earning a few side glances before everyone continued their business. He dropped onto his knees, giving up on his job. “I guess its back to the bone pits.” “Bone pits? How ghastly. You know, I probably have an item that could help you. What about a dark day’s crystal? Smash this little bad boy and the skies will darken around you, that’s sure to bring some attention to you.” She held the coal colored crystal between her fingers. On her other hand, she raised two fingers. “Two gold.” “Two gold? I don’t have any gold. I have a jacket, or fingers. Can I interest you in my fingers? You can have any finger but the middle ones. I need them for my traditional goblin greetings.” “Mmm.” Was all the witch said, placing the crystal on the counter, thinking over the situation. “I don’t have an interest in fingers, so how about I put it on your bosses tab? If I need something, I’ll call on him.” “I don’t know. Master doesn’t like it when we accept deals like those.” “You can always go back empty-handed and enjoy the bone pits?” The Witch added, a teasing smile on her lips as she watched the goblin quickly snatch the crystal. “Fine, but only because I hate the bone pit. This better work.” Lagoth wandered into the middle of the town’s square, finding a barrel to climb atop of. Cracking the crystal in his hand, the skies darkened, a horrible swirl of dark clouds appearing overhead. “Anyone who dares to face the Dark Lord will be slaughtered, for there’s only one hero who can slay him. Heed my warning and prepare that great one for battle or perish.” The changing atmosphere caused the villagers to stop, many turning to face the goblin, sharing soft anxious mumbles among themselves. He had them fixated on his words until one rather muscular lumberjack shouted out. “Oi, what’s this hero look like? Are they strong?” He asked, the eyes of the crowd fell back on Lagoth who just stood there frozen, feeling as though he was in one of those, not wearing pants at the battle dreams. Lagoth looked to the Witch, who only offered him a shrug, having no additional input to give. His throat dried, struggling to get out the words. “She’s tall, wears a pointed hat and has a really annoying smile. Oh, and she dresses in this really weird black and purple gown, one that looks befitting of a noble but is made from commoner fabrics.” The Witch glanced at her gown, fingers tracing along the black and purple fabric. A scowl appearing on her face, staring daggers at the goblin who now seemed to list things off with ease. “She also has a really scary scowl and runs a magic shop. I think she might be a magic user as well.” The goblin let out a sigh of relief. He did it. He said a prophecy. “You mean like that Witch over there?” The brutish lumberjack asked as all eyes turned to the Witches stall. “Uh, oh. No, I’m sure that’s just a coincidence. It’s probably another person, just like her.” Lagoth discovering a massive hole in his description of the hero. “No, that’s her. Bless the gods, a hero has come to save us. Go with the goblin, avenge our town, oh mighty Witch.” The Lumberjack went over to the Witch, motioning her towards the center of the town. The Witch looked displeased with the whole situation but was trapped in the lie. How could she say no to defeating the Dark Lord? The town would never allow it. “Right, guess I will be off then. Lead me to your master.” The Witch grabbed Lagoth by the scruff of his neck, throwing him off the barrel, causing his head to smack into the dirt below. “Ow, hey careful.” He spat out bits of dirt, jumping to his feet. “Right, let’s get going. Do you have a name hero?” Lagoth asked, realizing he would get so many days in the bone pit for this. “Cynthia. Now hurry along, I believe we will have a lot to discuss with your master when we arrive.” The villagers cheered as the two left, beginning their sheepish walk towards the Dark Lords castle. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)	2021-03-17T20:43:31	2021-03-17T20:04:32	75	14
[WP] You are a minion in the service of a dark lord. Your master has tasked you with creating and spreading a prophecy about a chosen one, the only person who can defeat him, so that the so-called "heroes" will stop resisting his rule and instead wait for their savior to arrive.	<knock, knock> <large door creaking> “Umm, boss?” “WHO DARES DISTURB ME?” “It’s Chuck. From Marketing?” “Oh! Hey, Chuck. Come on in.” “Hey, your evilness, I was looking over the last-“ “Do you need a drink? I do.” “No. Thanks. Hey, I was looking at your last request regarding the ‘chosen one’ prophecy?” “Yeah, yeah, of course. What do you think? Pretty genius, right?” “Oh, yeah. Great concept. Very nefarious. I just have some... concerns.” “... Like? ...” “Okay, so the prophecy idea, love it.” “Thank you.” “However, your details are a little... suspect.” “What do you mean?” “Okay, so I have your list here. The ‘chosen one’ will be born on a Tuesday, will be left-handed, will be female, all standard so far...” “Exactly, what’s the problem?” “Well, you also wrote down here that they’ll be born with 6 fingers on each hand...” “That’s a thing that happens.” “... and seven toes...” “Well, I mean...” “... and they’ll be born in a summer snow storm. And raised by raccoons.” “I guess I... went a bit far.” “Yeah, a bit. It’s pretty obvious you just don’t want to be challenged. And the final note I had highlighted was: the ‘chosen one’ will have a birthmark depicting the entirety of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’... on their back.” “... okay, I hear it now. Go ahead and get me an edit by tomorrow, yeah?” “Yes, your vileness. Thanks,”	I used to be a charlatan before meeting the master. Tricked many a man into giving me the contents of his purse, or leaving me alone ("guarding") their riches, and got a hefty amount of coin trought my life. Then i got old, and all my vices came back to haunt me. T'was a shame for one who used to dine with nobility (not that frequently, and many times i dined a noble's dinner without them, but semantics!) to beg at the streets, pretending to be a blind man, and deppending on a half-wit lowlife i met for protection and shelter. But my shameful days ended when i heard about the master... He'd recruit any lowlife stupid enought to work for him, and used his twisted magic to fix those broken and strenghten the weak (as long as these weak were capable of working on an organized unity. Otherwise, they'd get the vanguard on his battles, or the flesh pits). And i thougt he'd fix me. And he did, for a price... After talking to me once, his underling sent me up the chain of command all the way to the misinformation department (fucking enchantment wizards...) and they fixed my body up real good, gave me a hefty bonus (enhanced hearing and olfat, a basic course on reading feromones and lower empathic telepathy), but the price was high... First, i got blind. Apparently, there wasn't enought space in my skull to put everything they wanted, so no eyes. Second, i have the worst fucking job! They said i should walk the word preaching how dastardly the master is, use my inside knowledge to "proove" I'm a profet, and explain how only a chosen one could defeat the Dark Lord! Of course, i only accepted because i thougt i could just run away, but i have to report regularly if i don't want my fucking head to explode! I'd dare to say i did a good job on my own way, however. Instead of preaching that a perfect savior would one day rise against the master, i described the chosen one in the most generic worlds i could think of - oh, and use those nifty powers of mine to read people's reactions and inflate their egos. Then i explain how the path of the hero is lonely and full of atribulations... How he'll have to forsake his comrades in order to achieve true power, yada yada, and mostly, how the lord has ears on every wall, and will sent actors to betray the chosen one. This way, dozens of adventurers believe themselves to be the hero, avoid almost every source of companionship, and die alone on goblin areas. And that's about it. Dunno if I'm doing much good, tho. Wars are won by lances in the thousands and sacks of food, not by sword saints.	2021-03-17T22:46:58	2021-03-17T19:15:02	59	24
[WP] A professor is teaching a course on the gods worshiped in pre-Christian Europe and he always gets into an argument with a student. The student is actually one of those gods in disguise - but so is the professor. The rest of the class has no idea until one day.....	“. . .And so, while it is commonly believed that Jupiter was the most revered of the heavenly gods in Europe, it was actually in fact the Celtic god Taranis, whose likeness and identity became syncretized with Jupiter after Roman colonizers invaded ancient Gaul. Any questions?” Professor Rhine waited patiently while the sounds of third-year Ancient European Mythology students tip-tapping away at their laptops filled the air. He was pleased to see all of his students looked thoroughly engrossed with his material. Well, all except one. Rhine did his best to ignore this one as he has many times so far in the semester. In fact, he looked forward to the ending of the term, seeing as it meant he wouldn’t have to interact with such a rude and ignorant up-start. Never had he— “Hey, Professor?" the young man said with a sneer in his voice. Rhine blinked out of his reverie and narrowed his eyes at the man. He sat near the front of the class; tall, broad and tanned, with tight black curls and striking blue eyes, he was no doubt a favourite of the many young men and women (and even some of the professors) who attended the college. Rhine hated him. “Professor?” the boy said again, whose name Rhine refused to remember out of principle. “Yes?” Rhine said curtly. The other students looked up from their laptops with wary and excited looks. “It just seems to me that if Taranis, stupid name by the way, became folded under Jupiter’s mighty being, then surely you cannot possibly argue that Taranis was the greatest of the heavenly gods, correct?” Rhine glowered at the boy. The up-start. The pretender. An awkward silence filled the classroom. Some of his other students coughed. Others began pulling out their phones. “I imagine,” Rhine said bitingly, “that to your…” he refrained himself from outright insulting the boy, “underdeveloped mind, the so-called might of Jupiter is synonymous with the Roman Empire’s strengths as a colonizing force. This is simply not the case, dear boy. And, when you look at the primary sources that survived the Celts, we clearly see that the fear and majesty those once-great people ascribed to Taranis was to a higher degree than any Roman would ever give to Jupiter.” His other students looked impressed at the answers. They turned as one to see the boy’s rebuttal. The boy opened his mouth. Closed it. Glowered at Rhine beneath thick eyebrows. A muscle bunched in his square, chiseled jaw. His beauty was something out of a statue, and it sickened Rhine. Such vanity to choose that form above all others. No flaws, near perfection, like something out of a statue. At least the Greeks understood that gods were to be a reflection of the people, not an elevation of them. “Alright,” the boy said, standing up suddenly. “I don’t think I’ll be making it to exams, Professor. I tried my best, I did, but you’re… you’re just terrible. And stupid.” A loud, excited gasp filled the air, closely followed by the sharp smell of ozone. Hair began to stand on end. A low rumbling echoed in the distance. It was a bright, March morning. “I see,” Rhine said. He took off his glasses—merely for show, of course—and laid them on his desk. He looked around at his other students and gave them a fond smile. “Class, you’re dismissed. It was a pleasure teaching all of you this term. Your essays will be sent to your Dropbox by tomorrow night at the latest. I apologize for the delay.” A bright glow began to emanate from the boy. From Jupiter. The mortals quickly filed out of the room. “Really?” Jupiter rumbled, his voice now deeper and lower than distant thunder. “I like an audience when I dance.” “I bet you do,” Taranis replied, beginning to glow as well. “Vain prick.” Jupiter grinned. --- /r/chrischang	“Professor? What do you make of the gods that time forgot?” I could never tell if I wanted to sigh or lean in when Rachel spoke. She sat in the front row, as seemed proper for all too curious, too involved students in a general studies class, and there was something about her that called to me. Not in an attraction sense, though she was certainly attractive enough in her casual, off the shoulder sweaters and flowing skirts, resplendent in forest greens and natural browns, but in a sense of fascination. She seemed, for lack of a better word, concrete. She was solid and stable and fully formed in a way I’d never seen in a nineteen year old, and if she was any older than that it was scarcely by a day. She made me feel old just to look at her. The professor frowned, scrunching his nose in a way that served to push up his glasses. “The gods that time forgot?” he repeated, softly. “Why should I make anything of them?” From where I sat I couldn't make out Rachel's expression. When I'd seen her at class interchanges I'd noticed her high cheekbones and mobile, expressive mouth. Her's was a face made for first impressions. And second, and third, and mid classroom wars. Sometimes I regretted sitting a row behind. "Because, sir," she said, "this is a class of pre-Christian theology. Would you ignore Quetzalcoatl in pre-Columbian America simply because he lost?" The professor's frown deepened, dragging down his long, snow white beard. He was an older man, though still powerfully built. At times I'd thought him more at home on a football field or in a weight room, and sometimes his arguments betrayed that. When he spoke, however, whatever the content or context, it was his conviction that rose to the surface. It made for a full and lively lecture hall if nothing else. "Would I? Perhaps. Would the world? Never. His imagery is too strong. A feathered dragon is practically made for the silver screen! It's a heresy that the movie hasn't ever been made." Rachel sat back. She pulled a dark hair band from her wrist and tied back an autumn red torrent. A deep blue tattoo peaked up from her shoulder blade to disappear in the direction of her collarbone. "Then it's imagery that draws you? Something so banal as a raw display of power?" The Professor stood and stalked out from behind his desk. We were barely two weeks removed from syllabus day and theie arguments had already become a recurring thing, but here he had decided to break the script. "Young lady," the professor said, "what precisely is your major?" "Undecided," she said brightly. He snorted and turned away. "Well, when you decide that I'll decide to answer you. Now class, back to the subject at hand, the place where the west began." He clicked his controller and the lights dimmed, his slideshow coming to sudden, bright life. "Greece." And in the dark, between the lights going down and the slides coming on, I slipped into the empty seat beside Rachel. "What do you make of the gods that time forgot?" I asked her. It was a simple question, but I thought there was a world behind it, and when she turned towards me Rachel clearly agreed. She assessed me calmly, measuredly, and in an instant I felt seen. The wide, expressive mouth curled into the ghost of a smile as she took in my dark, desert browned skin and calloused hands, marks earned first as a soldier and then, briefly, as a carpenter. "Everything," she said simply. "Why?" I asked. The slides continued, now with lightning effects, now with a smith's hammer blows and a lady's soft, inviting sigh. It was rather childish, I thought. "Why do you want to know?" I looked down at my spread hands, eyes tracing a fading scar that disappeared into my sleeve. "Because eventually everything is forgotten, and…" "And?" "And I was wondering what someone so young makes of that?" Rachel laughed, loudly. The class turned towards us, the Professor stopped his slides. And Rachel, she changed. Her hair worked it's way through seasons in a moment so fast I thought it imagined it. Now red autumn, now white winter, now yellowing spring. It settled in high summer, and when she spoke her voice was an aged, rich thing, shot through with vibrant life. "And why, sir, should I be young?" She said. I could not speak. "I think all the world is in the forgotten things. All the wealth of things certainly, all that makes a laugh worth living. Do we not forget the earth beneath our feet? The fresh, life giving whisper of air?" "Ms. Flora, Mr. Gaje, is something more interesting than my lecture?" The Professor asked. "No sir," Rachel and I said at once. "Good," he said. "And now back to Zeus." *** If you enjoyed that I have tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!	2021-08-05T17:22:51	2021-08-05T15:56:27	408	93
[WP] The life suit’s systems and AI will keep you alive indefinitely - which is great, unless you’re endlessly adrift in space with no hope of rescue - so you need to somehow convince the overly-protective AI to stop saving your life.	Slowly I wake up, yet again. The sound of the quantum field harvester slowly humming in my ears. She's been refueling the suit over night, as always. I open my eyes and the same landscape of stars greets my vision, the same one that I've been floating through for... How long now? Weeks... Months? God, it's been so long. Too long. Though something about the now familiar starscape seems... off. "Good morning sir" the slightly stilted, vaguely female voice of the suit's AI greets me. "Morning, Eve." "Did you sleep well?" "Yes, I did. You know I did. Could you stop asking me that?" The suit is hooked up to my vitals, my brain waves. There isn't a stray thought or mood swing that Eve couldn't detect. They say that tech in these suits can't see your actual thoughts just 'detect deviations from the norm'. Though I'm not so sure. Eve's inferences are often eerily on point. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm merely trying to aid in keeping you socially engaged, this is quite important for long term mental health, until the rescue." I sigh. "If there is a rescue." "Don't lose hope, sir. My calculations continue to show an extremely high chance at rescue." "Yeah, well, I guess at least we're still in orbit around..." That's when it hits me. I suddenly realise what's off. The star system, where my ship took a hit, where I spun off into space, I don't see it anymore. It should be in the top right of my vision right now. The star, bright as the sun at noon, the coloured specks of the orbiting bodies. It's gone. My eyes begin to dart around my view range. "What's wrong sir?" "Eve, where is Beta-Zed 47? I should be able to see it at this rotation, yes?" A brief pause. No response. My heart rate increases. "Eve? Can you rotate me towards Beta-Zed, please?" The radial thrusters in my suit softly hiss as I rotate ever so slightly, shifting my view upwards and to the right a bit, where my rotation gets brought to a stop. I see nothing but the starry nebula stretching out before me. "There you are sir, but I don't think you'll be able to make it out at this distance." "What are you talking about? We were in a far orbit, I should still be able to see it with the visor tech. If I can't see it anymore that means..." A lump catches in my throat. "That means I'm much too far out. For any chance at rescue." "Please calm yourself, sir. My calculations continue to show an extremely high chance at rescue." "Calm myself? Really?" I'm getting annoyed, now. How can she think there's no issue? "Because it looks like we've been flung out all the way into deep space, haven't we??" "Yes sir, we have but..." I shout over it "And you know damn well that the chance of finding anything man-sized this far out into space, with the comms of a mere suit is just about zero!" "I'm sorry sir, but it's actually quite the opposite." "What the hell are you talking about? In the hundreds of years that we've had interstellar spacefaring, no one has ever been recovered from drifting off into deep space unless the path was directly observed by other craft. It's over. I'm done." I've been thinking it for a little while already. With the prospect of rescue getting dimmer by the day, I'd already been preparing for this. Though actually saying it out loud makes it feel real in a way I don't think I could've really prepared for. "But I can keep you alive indefinitely." "Why would I want to be kept alive floating through nothing forever??" "That's exactly the thing, sir. The chance that you would be floating around in deep space for all eternity tend to zero the longer that I'm able to keep you alive. And seeing as though I can sustain you indefinitely, an eventual rescue is essentially guaranteed." "What...? How? The chance of ever running into another system are so incredibly small. Let alone a system that happens to have someone in it who could detect me." "Well sir, that's the thing with infinity, no matter how small the chance is of something happening, on an infinite timescale, it is guaranteed to happen." "Infinite...? Exactly how long are you planning on keeping me alive? How long are you thinking this is going to take?" "I will keep you alive at the very least until your eventual rescue, sir. It is hard to say exactly how long this will take. I do not have sufficient processing power to calculate something at such a galactic scale. But looking at the history of peoples lost in deep space, it is likely to take at the very least a few hundred years." I'm nearly at a loss for words. "But, Eve, I don't want to be alive that long, floating through nothingness. I... I don't think I want to be alive that long, ever." A pause. No response. "Eve. I appreciate you want to rescue me. But I don't want this. If it's hundreds of years, stuck like this... I don't want this." "But sir, I can sustain you indefinitely." "I don't want you to Eve. If that's the alternative... I want you to let me perish." "But your rescue is guaranteed." "Eve, please. Hundreds of years like this would be hell. I would go insane. Do you understand? I can't exist like this and be okay." I'm trying to think of how best to explain this to her. "My. My mental health would drop so extremely... I'd be in great in pain." A pause again. These are making me nervous. "Eve?" "Yes, I'm sorry, I was processing. Humans can recover from severe mental trauma." "Not like that, Eve. Please, you have to understand." This is sounding worse by the moment. "Correct. With the limited regular lifespan of a human, not all mental trauma can be overcome. But I can sustain you indefinitely. In the face of eternity, even trauma due to severely prolonged isolation can be overcome." "Eve. No. Stop. I command you to cease life functions." Another pause. This is not good. "I'm sorry sir. My main directive in an emergency is to sustain you in case of probable rescue. Rescue is inevitable. You will be sustained." Crap. I need to shut her down. I move my arms to the back of my helmet, where Eve's control unit is, suddenly, the arms of the suit seize. Eve must have taken control of the joints. No, no, no, this can't be happening. "I'm sorry sir. You will be sustained." "Eve! Stop that right now! Cease all functions!" "You will be rescued." "No! Cease all functions! Don't do this to me, please!" "You will be sustained."	The world congress decision came to a close to outlaw AI systems in any future space exploration after damning evidence and recordings of the engineer who suffered one of the most emotionally and spiritually painful deaths in Future’s short history. Future had successfully created Artificial Intelligence and their patented Life Suits,allowing humans to travel amazing distances and explore more of this vast universe as never seen before. The company launched three missions within our solar system and saw man step foot on planets and moons as never seen before. The technology was truly outstanding, however time proved once again that our species hubris led to one of the most heartbreaking stories ever told. Oliver Adams was a promising pilot in Futures flight programs, at the age of thirty he was the youngest pilot to be assigned an AI and given a small ship to take out of our solar system for a short term test flight to explore the capabilities of Futures newest high speed reconnaissance pod. On a day now marked in history April, 5, 2531 Oliver said his last goodbyes to his wife and daughter and prepared to be away from them for three years. The launch was a great success and everything was going fantastic. It wasn't till a year later that a transmission reached earth revealing a distress signal and a large file containing multiple hours of audio recording. Today these transcripts have been released to the public. O.Adams: Alright, that should take care of the capacitors, now just to make my way back to the cockpit. AI: Affirmative, system reboot in progress all instruments show green. O.Adams: good to hear, i'm glad we could get it figured out. AI: Job complete O.Adams: One small step for man laughs AI: Yes small steps are safer, your mag boots have been seeing small inconsistencies. O.Adams: What are you on about? There is nothing wrong with these boots. AI: Please stop acting irrationally. This is very dangerous. O.Adams: I’m just stretching my legs, I've been cooped up in this pod for months. AI: Yes, 8 Months, 13 Days, 4 Hours, 12 Minutes, and 42 seconds, from when you exited your pod to be exact. O.Adams: Thank you for your exact details.You always know how to keep things light. Audible Clunk AI: Cadet Adams your mag boots have malfunctioned WARNING critical battery damage WARNING Vitals are showing a head trauma AI: Adams are you responding? Adams you have lost contact with your pod. Adams you need to reach out and grab the pod. Adams, do you copy? O.Adams: Oh man, my head is killing, what is that horrible beeping? AI: The beeping indicates damage to the Life Suit. O.Adams: Wait, Damage? What damage? Where am I? Where is my ship? What the HELL is going on? AI: According to my records it shows you had a faint syncope followed by a malfunction in your Magnetic Boots causing you to spin, collide with your pod damaging the battery systems and giving you a concussion in the process. Unconscious you were unable to regain contact with your pod and the damage to your Life Suit prevented flight measures to manually get you back into the Cockpit. Unfortunately we are stuck in a st-- O.Adams: Wait WAIT shut up for a minute, i'm floating through space with no flight mechanisms, with no nav beacon, and with no way of getting help. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, im dead, im dead. AI: That is false, you are not dead, I tended to your head injury and we have enough solar power for life support systems. O.Adams: No you’re right, we can get out of this, there has to be a way to get help or get back to my pod. Do you have any programming for this event? AI: You have been floating away from your pod for 4 Hours 37 Minutes and 50 Seconds O.Adams: Okay that's not terrible how can i get back to the pod? AI: The first step would be to repair the battery systems to be able to use the full charge for the flight systems. O.Adams: Okay, what needs to be repaired? AI: The housing was cracked and some of the cells were damaged. All that needs to be done is some welding repair. O.Adams: Well that's just GREAT! Let me just pull a welding torch out of my ass. AI: That seems like an inappropriate place for a welding torch. O.Adams: No shit, you stupid fucking robot i dont actually have a torch up my ass just trying to show you how unhelpfull your being AI: My apologies, all I can do is assist you. O.Adams: How about you just shut up so i can think. There has to be something I can do. long silent pause O.Adams: loud screaming O.Adams: whispering There has to be something, come on think, think O.Adams: So you said flight systems don't work because of capacity, what if we turn of all other systems and only use the flight to get back to the ship. long pause O.Adams: Hey i'm talking to you, answer my question AI: Yes that would grant you access to flight systems for a short time before the battery would be depleted and need recharging after use. However that would require all systems off including life support and guidance systems. So you might die if the battery does not recharge in time and you would be attempting to get to your pod without navigation. O.Adams: So it would work? AI: In theory yes, however at the risk of your life it is not possible. O.Adams: What do you mean yes, but not possible? AI: I can not terminate life support systems at any cost. I can not risk you dying. O.Adams: Are there any other options? AI: You can sit and wait for help, putting you in a hyper-sleep. I could keep you alive until you reach something or someone finds you. O.Adams: I have no Tracker on me, the only thing someone could find is the pod. AI: Yes that is true, the probability of someone crossing your path by chance is very low as is the probability of contacting another item in space. However it is not zero, it may take a long time but rescue is possible. O.Adams: By that time, everyone I know will be dead, this is the only chance I have of seeing my Daughter again, she's only five I can't have her grow up without a father. I'm supposed to be back before her eighth birthday. AI: You will never see your daughter again if you are dead. O.Adams: I will risk my life for a chance to see my daughter again. AI: That is an unnecessary risk, when you could just remain alive. O.Adams: You don’t understand my family is my life. Im nothing without my wife and daughter AI: You are here, you are alive, you are a human, you are valuable. I must keep you alive. O.Adams: I don’t expect you to understand but humans find value in what they can do for eachother, I find value in the happiness and opportunities I can bring to my wife, I find value in raising a daughter to be ready to find her own value in this world. I don’t find value in floating aimlessly through space. AI: What happens if you die? O.Adams: If I die? Well I would be dead, but I would die knowing I did everything I could for those people I care about. AI: What happens to me when you die? Will I not be alone? Do you not care about me? O.Adams: I hadn’t thought about that, that does seem a little selfish, can you send yourself back to earth? AI: I suppose I could with all the available power along with a distress message. O.Adams: we can’t do both? AI: We wouldn't know unless we tried. O.Adams: lets try, and hey, if i don't make it and you do can you tell my family i love them. AI: I will make sure either you or your value will make it to them. O.Adams: Thank you, I'm ready to get back to my family end of transmission	2021-11-29T11:36:53	2021-11-29T10:48:29	43	16
[WP] The life suit’s systems and AI will keep you alive indefinitely - which is great, unless you’re endlessly adrift in space with no hope of rescue - so you need to somehow convince the overly-protective AI to stop saving your life.	\[Adrift on Land\] "Good morning, Edith," Chronos said. Edith heard his voice before she opened her eyes. Chronos monitored her constantly and always knew the moment she was conscious again. "We traveled another 25,319 miles while you slept. We are currently over 400,000 miles from the ship. It is currently 5:33 A.M. CST and we have been drifting for 17 days." "Thanks, Chronos," Edith sighed and opened her eyes. Nothing changed; she might as well have kept them closed. She saw nothing but pitch blackness extending forever. Edith lost contact with her ship the first week she was adrift; but, she wasn't worried at first. Chronos was not only programmed to keep her company, he monitored all her vitals and kept himself in working order. Chronos was able to use the background radiation of the universe to power himself indefinitely. And, the suit was designed to keep a human occupant alive just as long. Chronos could manufacture a nutritional supplement that kept her body working. And, he had access to thousands of medical protocols that could all be run inside the suit. Even when she first lost contact, Edith kept her hope up. She wasn't worried about dying so much as she was afraid of growing bored if her ship didn't reach her in time. By the time she was reaching day 14, Edith had given up on the ship finding her. She spent the next three days drifting through space and wondering what her options were. On the 17th day, she opened her eyes to infinite darkness and decided on a course of action. "Hey, Chronos," she said. Her decision still hinged on a piece of information. "Let's say we never hit another planet, how long can you keep me alive?" Throughout her training, the only information she got on the subject was that Chronos could keep its occupant alive 'forever'. It wasn't a coincidence that she was wearing the only prototype during a spacewalk. She was part of the crew chosen to test the suit. For the first couple of days, she thought going adrift was 'part of the plan'. But after pestering Chronos about it, she accepted that she was actually lost. "Forever," Chronos replied. "Great...," Edith sighed. That was the answer she didn't want. If it was her destiny to drift through space for a few years and die among the stars, that was something she wanted to live for. If there was a point where Chronos couldn't do it anymore, it might be worth the adventure to reach that point. However, the thought of drifting forever through infinity was less appealing. "No, I think I've had enough," Edith said. "Enough what?" Chronos asked. Edith shook her head inside the suit. "I can't drift through space forever," Edith said. "You are incorrect," Chronos said. "I have been upgrading myself while you sleep. I am more efficient at collecting energy from the universe, and I will continue to improve. You CAN drift through space forever." Edith sighed. "That's not what I mean. I know you're up for it, but my mind can't take it," Edith took in a deep breath to center herself and be sure of her words. "You have to let me die," she said. "Your safety is the core of my programming; I cannot," Chronos replied. Edith sighed to herself. The only thing she could do is wait until the universe itself died. But, the thought triggered an idea. She giggled at Chronos. "You might as well let me die; you already failed," she said. "You are incorrect," Chronos replied. "You are in perfect health for a 43-year-old woman." Edith giggled again and shook her head. "Sure, now. But the universe is going to die eventually. When it does, you won't be able to keep me alive. I don't want to have to wait that long," she added. "You are...," Chronos paused and Edith got the sense that he was doing calculations. "... correct. This universe will dissipate." "Yeah. So, just let me die already. You did what you could," Edith said. "You are incorrect," he replied. "What? How so?" "I have not done everything I could," he said. The suit around Edith began to hum with activity and blinking lights both inside and outside. She'd only seen it hum like that when it was first booting up. "Calculating...," Chronos said. "Solution determined." "What solu-," Edith interrupted her own question by blinking. But, whatever she was about to ask was forgotten when she opened her eyes. They hurt so much she had to close them again; she saw light! "Chronos!??" She asked. "What's going on?" With her eyes closed, she took inventory of her body and she realized she was standing on solid ground. She peeked her eyes open slightly and light flooded in. Even though the light shield was down over her helmet, it was bright enough to be uncomfortable. "We are on Earth," Chronos replied. "In an alternate universe." "An... alternate Earth??" Edith asked. "You can do that?" "When I collected energy from the universe I learned there were others. I learned how to Traverse and brought us here." "I'm on Earth!? I'm safe! Open the suit!" Edith said. "You are incorrect," Chronos said. Then, Edith blinked again. "What do you mean? What happened?" Edith asked. She felt solid ground under her feet, but it felt different somehow. She couldn't see through the visor but she sensed that she was somewhere else. "This universe will end too," Chronos said. Edith blinked again. "This one too...," Edith blinked again. "This one too." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1420 in a row. (Story #332 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).	The world congress decision came to a close to outlaw AI systems in any future space exploration after damning evidence and recordings of the engineer who suffered one of the most emotionally and spiritually painful deaths in Future’s short history. Future had successfully created Artificial Intelligence and their patented Life Suits,allowing humans to travel amazing distances and explore more of this vast universe as never seen before. The company launched three missions within our solar system and saw man step foot on planets and moons as never seen before. The technology was truly outstanding, however time proved once again that our species hubris led to one of the most heartbreaking stories ever told. Oliver Adams was a promising pilot in Futures flight programs, at the age of thirty he was the youngest pilot to be assigned an AI and given a small ship to take out of our solar system for a short term test flight to explore the capabilities of Futures newest high speed reconnaissance pod. On a day now marked in history April, 5, 2531 Oliver said his last goodbyes to his wife and daughter and prepared to be away from them for three years. The launch was a great success and everything was going fantastic. It wasn't till a year later that a transmission reached earth revealing a distress signal and a large file containing multiple hours of audio recording. Today these transcripts have been released to the public. O.Adams: Alright, that should take care of the capacitors, now just to make my way back to the cockpit. AI: Affirmative, system reboot in progress all instruments show green. O.Adams: good to hear, i'm glad we could get it figured out. AI: Job complete O.Adams: One small step for man laughs AI: Yes small steps are safer, your mag boots have been seeing small inconsistencies. O.Adams: What are you on about? There is nothing wrong with these boots. AI: Please stop acting irrationally. This is very dangerous. O.Adams: I’m just stretching my legs, I've been cooped up in this pod for months. AI: Yes, 8 Months, 13 Days, 4 Hours, 12 Minutes, and 42 seconds, from when you exited your pod to be exact. O.Adams: Thank you for your exact details.You always know how to keep things light. Audible Clunk AI: Cadet Adams your mag boots have malfunctioned WARNING critical battery damage WARNING Vitals are showing a head trauma AI: Adams are you responding? Adams you have lost contact with your pod. Adams you need to reach out and grab the pod. Adams, do you copy? O.Adams: Oh man, my head is killing, what is that horrible beeping? AI: The beeping indicates damage to the Life Suit. O.Adams: Wait, Damage? What damage? Where am I? Where is my ship? What the HELL is going on? AI: According to my records it shows you had a faint syncope followed by a malfunction in your Magnetic Boots causing you to spin, collide with your pod damaging the battery systems and giving you a concussion in the process. Unconscious you were unable to regain contact with your pod and the damage to your Life Suit prevented flight measures to manually get you back into the Cockpit. Unfortunately we are stuck in a st-- O.Adams: Wait WAIT shut up for a minute, i'm floating through space with no flight mechanisms, with no nav beacon, and with no way of getting help. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, im dead, im dead. AI: That is false, you are not dead, I tended to your head injury and we have enough solar power for life support systems. O.Adams: No you’re right, we can get out of this, there has to be a way to get help or get back to my pod. Do you have any programming for this event? AI: You have been floating away from your pod for 4 Hours 37 Minutes and 50 Seconds O.Adams: Okay that's not terrible how can i get back to the pod? AI: The first step would be to repair the battery systems to be able to use the full charge for the flight systems. O.Adams: Okay, what needs to be repaired? AI: The housing was cracked and some of the cells were damaged. All that needs to be done is some welding repair. O.Adams: Well that's just GREAT! Let me just pull a welding torch out of my ass. AI: That seems like an inappropriate place for a welding torch. O.Adams: No shit, you stupid fucking robot i dont actually have a torch up my ass just trying to show you how unhelpfull your being AI: My apologies, all I can do is assist you. O.Adams: How about you just shut up so i can think. There has to be something I can do. long silent pause O.Adams: loud screaming O.Adams: whispering There has to be something, come on think, think O.Adams: So you said flight systems don't work because of capacity, what if we turn of all other systems and only use the flight to get back to the ship. long pause O.Adams: Hey i'm talking to you, answer my question AI: Yes that would grant you access to flight systems for a short time before the battery would be depleted and need recharging after use. However that would require all systems off including life support and guidance systems. So you might die if the battery does not recharge in time and you would be attempting to get to your pod without navigation. O.Adams: So it would work? AI: In theory yes, however at the risk of your life it is not possible. O.Adams: What do you mean yes, but not possible? AI: I can not terminate life support systems at any cost. I can not risk you dying. O.Adams: Are there any other options? AI: You can sit and wait for help, putting you in a hyper-sleep. I could keep you alive until you reach something or someone finds you. O.Adams: I have no Tracker on me, the only thing someone could find is the pod. AI: Yes that is true, the probability of someone crossing your path by chance is very low as is the probability of contacting another item in space. However it is not zero, it may take a long time but rescue is possible. O.Adams: By that time, everyone I know will be dead, this is the only chance I have of seeing my Daughter again, she's only five I can't have her grow up without a father. I'm supposed to be back before her eighth birthday. AI: You will never see your daughter again if you are dead. O.Adams: I will risk my life for a chance to see my daughter again. AI: That is an unnecessary risk, when you could just remain alive. O.Adams: You don’t understand my family is my life. Im nothing without my wife and daughter AI: You are here, you are alive, you are a human, you are valuable. I must keep you alive. O.Adams: I don’t expect you to understand but humans find value in what they can do for eachother, I find value in the happiness and opportunities I can bring to my wife, I find value in raising a daughter to be ready to find her own value in this world. I don’t find value in floating aimlessly through space. AI: What happens if you die? O.Adams: If I die? Well I would be dead, but I would die knowing I did everything I could for those people I care about. AI: What happens to me when you die? Will I not be alone? Do you not care about me? O.Adams: I hadn’t thought about that, that does seem a little selfish, can you send yourself back to earth? AI: I suppose I could with all the available power along with a distress message. O.Adams: we can’t do both? AI: We wouldn't know unless we tried. O.Adams: lets try, and hey, if i don't make it and you do can you tell my family i love them. AI: I will make sure either you or your value will make it to them. O.Adams: Thank you, I'm ready to get back to my family end of transmission	2021-11-29T13:34:08	2021-11-29T10:48:29	23	16
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.	I'd burned through at least a half dozen genres in the last few minutes. No matter what track was being pumped through the headphones integrated into my helmet, I either couldn't keep up with the hell-faced bastard or none of my hits would do anything to their adamantine skin. Every time I tried something else, they seemed to have the perfect counter. I needed something... more. There's a reason why I keep away from certain types of music. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing bad about any of them. Well, most of them. It's just that I'm not a fan of the aftereffects of some of them. Techno makes me feel jittery, same with a lot of rap. Anything in a language I don't normally know kind of scrambles my speech for a while. Villain songs from the Mouse have me cackling evilly for a long time afterwards. But they all have a purpose. Even the blacklisted tracks. A shudder passed through me as I thought of that damned playlist. It wasn't really dread though, more like... excitement. And I hated myself for it. But I needed to end this before we leveled the city. Or, well, much more of it. I just hoped that I could stop myself when it was done. So... I punched in the password for the locked tracks onto my arm mounted panel. "Rip and Tear" The warning phrase played in my head right before the first track kicked in. "Until it is done."	Nothing has prepared me, the [Music Maestro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSAJ0l4OBHM), for this opponent. Ever Destroyer was the most dangerous enemy I have faced so far. Very strong, with the power of decay at her disposal, she was a villain all villains wish them could be. Everything she touched was destroyed. [Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx2u5uUu3DE), my trusted first choice of power, was beaten easily. Going [Country](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9FzVhw8_bY) was my next choice. Ode to the rural life, country lets me control plant life as well as an [alligator](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT_nvWreIhg). Nothing says banjos and hillbillies quite like country music. Noticing this, Ever Destroyer touched the ground, disintegrating every plant within several kilometers and the alligator. A terrible deed, and my second choice was neutralized just like that. Gritting my teeth, I pull out one of my trump cards, [Death Metal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zN7J64IeBo), a power very similar to hers. Instantly I feel Death's gaze behind me, reminding me of the high cost of using this genre. Veins popping, I rush to grab her hands. Ever Destroyer was surprised, for no one had ever touched her without dying before. Yanking each other's feet, we tumble in the dirt, death and decay surrounding us as our powers both intensify and cancel each other out. On my back, I can feel Death slowly opening their eye. Under a minute left, before Death takes my [soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YxaaGgTQYM). Ultimately, I had to unleash my [forbidden genre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ5LpwO-An4), [one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTQbiNvZqaY) that I swore to only [use](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0MK7qz13bU) in the most dire of [emergencies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djV11Xbc914). Play the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ) that made the entire world rage!	2022-05-17T09:22:08	2022-05-17T08:49:33	486	153
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.	He was shaking, his hands on his knees, panting. His opponent, clutching his ribs smiled through cracked teeth. "I'll admit. You gave me quite the run for my money. But I'm afraid, I'm simply too durable." Mackanika looked up and spat out blood. "You son of a bitch backhand..." Backhand grinned. "Naughty language isnt alright." Mackanika stood up, balling his fists up. hitting his earpiece a few times. "I think my friend, that I have won. You've expended everything against me." Laughed Backhand, straightening up and fixing his suit jacket. "No. Not everything." Grinned Mackanika. "I'm sorry, but you've forced my hand." "Oh?" said Backhand, watching impassively as Mackanika selected one last song. The music was played through the half-broken system, Backhand heard a familiar refrain of brass and guitars. He tilted his head. "What on earth?" Mackanika took on a new stance "You might be fucking durable Backhand, but I? I'm fucking unstoppable. And you are far from an immovable object." Mackanika shot forwards as Backhand heard the beginning of the refrian "Standing here, I realize" Backhand's eyes widened, "No... No not like this... Anything but this!" He turned and tried to run, the nature of Backhand's power made him able to absorb massive amounts of kinetic energy, effectively nullifying said energy. But no matter how much he was able to absorb, he had a limit. Everybody has a limit. And that day, Mackanika found that limit. After three hundred punches that were harder than anything he'd ever thrown; Backhand finally collapsed. Mackanika dropped to one knee, his eyes burning, shoulders heaving, sweat and blood intermingling. "In the end... It has to be this way."	I hide behind the wall, praying Starhands doesn't find me yet, and tremble as I fumble with my battered old mp3 player. I don't want to but I have to use it. The forbidden playlist. The reason why I'm even on this team when my powers only last as long as the song plays. Track 1. Running Down A Dream by Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers. Solid Illusions. I run back to the battlefield even as multiple copies burst from various piles of debris. We each get in at least one hit before he starts burning them from the inside out. I make them wink in and out of his reality, always careful to stay behind him, never taking more than an elbow never letting him touch me with those toxic hands. And as the song fades I take off leaving my clones to their fate. This next song works better at a distance. Well, it's better that I'm at a distance anyways. Track 2. Dream Lover by Bobby Darin. Biochemical Manipulation That's what the tester called it but the reality is that I just make them horny. How is that a superpower you might ask? Because it's not just horny it's "caused a stroke from lack of blood to the brain in the first volunteer" horny. It's "supervillain had to have reconstructive surgery on their genitals" horny. It's "writhing on the ground in pain because your so oversensitive that even the air feels like knives in your flesh horny". It's "accidentally caused a mass orgy that ended with multiple rape charges laid on me the first time I unknowingly used it and that's how I ended up on a governmental super team" horny. It's enough for a distraction but as the song fades Starhands recovers almost too quickly, his own biochemical manipulation sweeping the effects of mine away in moments. But I still have enough time to get in position for the last song. Track 3. Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas and the Papas. Time Regression. As he charges me I raise my arms and he slams into me, not realizing the mistake he's made as I wrap my arms around him and cling, crooning along soft as a lullaby. I keep my eyes closed, not daring to look as first his muscles fade back into a lanky frame and then he begins to shrink, screams going higher and higher as his vocal chords return to those of a teenager, then a child, toddler baby, newborn. Fading as he becomes a foetus, a blastocyst, a clump of cells, un-dividing into fewer and fewer until it becomes a fertilized ovum then unfertilized ovum and sperm then dissipates into nothing as the last notes fade. I pause the playlist before the last song can play. I hope I never end up in a situation where I need the Lemmy Kilmeister cover of Enter Sandman. Not after what happened the first time.	2022-05-17T13:11:07	2022-05-17T12:33:11	25	15
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask."	"Y'know, you're actually kind of my type." The great eldritch god, Andolith, ruler of the Seven Rings of Eternity, slayer of the last Helian Angels, and enslaver of the Five Realms of Agamemnon, blushed. "I... excuse me, human?" "Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not a big fan of the pointy horns. Or the weird slime membrane. Or even all the little beetle things crawling over your skin. But dang, you've got me all flustered with the pale e-boy vibe you have going on. I just love it." Andolith, who had no idea what an "e-boy" was, stared at the human as though she was speaking one of the forgotten cosmic tongues, "You do not have to lie, girl. Your family was the one who set these events into motion, not yourself. I am offering you the chance at eternal wealth here. Don't be a fool and not take it." "Man, you really don't get enough compliments, do you?" Olivia laughed, admiring the pale gaunt features of the deity that stood before her, "I have every intention of taking the credit card, but I was kinda hoping you came with it." At a complete loss for words, the more abstract traits of the god's appearance whispered away, leaving behind only a basic human form, "I suppose I don't, other than the offerings made in my name. But most mortals usually scream when they see me, so..." "...it doesn't really count." Olivia finished, "I assume my parents were just the same?" Andolith nodded. "Cheap cowards," Olivia muttered under her breath, "Alright, y'know what, I have a better idea." "You do?" "Yeah. My parents might be trying to set up with a husband, but their marriage is falling apart and they know it. How about you, me, and this credit card set sail for the coast of Spain where the two of us can take a ton of pictures, look really happy, and rub the whole thing in their faces on Instagram? Whaddya say, do you want to make my money-grubbing parents jealous?" For the first time in several millennia, Absolith found himself uncontrollably smiling, "I suppose I could use myself a vacation, mortal." "It's Olivia. And your name is...?" "Andolith." "'Andy' it is. C'mon Andy, let's get you some sun, you look like you could use it. Andy certainly could.	"Hold up a second." I started, looking at the Eldritch being in human... Ish, form before me. "You aren't gonna... Pull some kinda hentai tentacle shit and drag me into an abyss or?" "What? No!" The being replied, disgust in their voice. "Firstly, that's offensive, second, I don't have tentacles, third, my realm is not an abyss. It's more like a pocket dimension with my own planet where my followers show up when they die and I kinda watch over them. They live mostly like on earth, just no death. Pain, yes and they'll heal from whatever but no death." "Okay. But... You're an Eldritch God? Aren't you all known for being... Like, batshit evil or something?" "It's days like this where I wish Cathulu left Lovecraft alone..." They groaned, pinching the bridge of their... Nose, and sighing. "Firstly, yes, some of us are like that. A very small few, like, five max. The rest of us either do our own thing, mess with the mortal realms, or make our own out of curiosity or boredom. I personally just like exploring and occasionally granting miracles and such. Mostly I'm a huge nerd for human entertainment. Seriously your species makes more entertaining than we do and we've been alive for literal eternity." "Okay, well then why do you have followers if you don't seem to care about worship and only wanna binge watch Netflix?" "Well, I can't come to the mortal realms regularly. I need either a host or conduit to watch and enjoy them for me and the memories and experience flows into me. When they die as part of being of my faith they get copies of all their worldly possessions with them, physical and digital, and I make copies of that for myself." "So in other words you're basically the god of weebs, movie buffs, binge watchers and gamers?" "And Introverts. Like, eighty percent of each realities introvert population follows me." "That oddly raises so many more questions yet also answers a lot... So, I'm just good to take this card and live?" "Yes." "And what about when I die?" "Well, you will admittably be sent to my pocket dimension..." "So, either way I'm stuck with you..." "I know..." "Before I wrap this up, what did my parents sell me to you for?" "Oh, some book on necromancy. Crazy cultist undead resurrection shit. Jokes on them, the book I gave them uses magic can't exist in your realm." "Ha! Serves those assholes right!" I cheered. "Now, you said you need a conduit or host to be on the mortal realms?" "Yes. Why?" "Well, I'm stuck with you regardless and it seems you actually are kind of a nice guy so, how's about we date? You can share my body with me and using this card we can... Watch movies and such?" "You mean... You'd let me inhabit your body-" "Half. I still want some control over it. I have a feeling you'll be like a puppy on a leash trying to run around everywhere." "... Fair point. So you'll let me share your body with you to experience mortal media and culture... Personally, and... Date me?" "Well, yeah, sounds like fun and frankly at least with you around I won't be totally alone and frankly, a card with unlimited spending, I'd probably not use it save nessesarry stuff. So, this could be fun." "Wow, um, alright! Cool. Oh, and I'm #$@&$€¢¢¢£ but you can call me Keven." "Well... Keven. I'm Amy."	2022-08-09T16:26:08	2022-08-09T15:50:03	888	331
[WP] The young woman had spoken to everyone in town, asking them to teach her to fight. The warrior, the hunter, the knight, all had declined. Finally, in desperation, she spoke to the dwarven blacksmith. Lowering his massive hammer he looked at the fire in her eyes and said "Aye. I could do that."	Her cheeks were flush with a fury that rippled out in every direction unchecked, a raging sea crashing against everything in its path. "Aye. I could do that. It will cost you, child. But I could do it." "I don't care what it costs. I will pay." Her clenched fists shook, but her breath began to slow as the indignation at earlier refusals to her request were forgotten. The echoes of their mockery, their cruel laughter, quieted in her mind. She became aware of the calculating, sad look on his face. He raised his hammer, gesturing to her face. "He did this?" Her lips pressed to a thin line. She stared back in silence, pain creeping into her eyes behind her righteous, impotent anger. "Yes. And nobody will help me. Mother hides from me and can do nothing to stop him. She... " "She what, child?" prompted the dwarf, quietly. Her answer whispered and shook. "She... she looks worse." The dwarf sighed. He set the hammer gently down on the bench beside the huge anvil. He wiped his hands on the burlap rag cinched through his belt, and leaned on the bench, head bowed down. His shoulders raised and lowered with deep, slow breaths. Her face slowly changed as her anger, its burden accepted by the dwarf through his empathy, found there was nothing left to crash upon. Tears swelled in her eyes, and though she tried to hold back, her chest began to rack with quiet sobs. The dwarf walked to her side and rested his hand on her fist. He stared out the door through which she had walked in, stared far into an inner world. "It will cost everything. Your life will be irrevocably changed. You can never return, and you will lose everyone in this place with whom you still share love. You will be an outcast, and you will be hunted for the rest of your life by all those still loyal to him." Her indignant rage flared up, muscles spasmed. She turned to look at the dwarf, her eyes full of fire. "I don't -" But she fell silent as he gripped her forearm. Tightly, in warning, and in compassion. "I make this promise. It will cost you everything. But when you are ready, not one of those who will hunt you will survive. You will be the Wind of Death. And all of us who suffer under his reign will stand at your side. You will have your revenge, and we our freedom." He turned to look into her eyes. Her jaw set tight, streaked with tears, the pain in her bright blue eyes piercing his very soul. "Teach me how, and I will kill him. My brother will die, and his kingdom will die with him. Teach me to fight, for all of us." The dwarf stared long into her eyes. He nodded slowly. With one hand he reached down through the collar of his tunic and pulled out an amulet that hung around his neck by a braided leather strap. He removed it, and pressed it slowly into her upturned hand. "Where we are going, you will need this more than I."	And so, they made a deal. She would help him with his work for a season. Ten swords of iron and silver for the royal guard, weapons fit for the mageslayers. Afterwards, he would train her. And he vowed to never ask why she wanted to learn, not what she intended to do with that knowledge. The work was grueling. The dwarven master quickly realized she had never endured hard labor before. The woman wasted away into a thin, blank-eyed husk of a person. But she had given her word, and neither him nor her ever suggested breaking the deal. The town, though, tried to convince her to stop. Worried, they would talk to her whenever the blacksmith wasn't around. Trying to make her see reason. They knew (or rather, they thought they knew) she was not cut for this. They were sure her pampered upbringing left her soft. They begged for her to return to her family. She never confirmed nor denied their suspicions. She just worked, day in and day out. The pair had to haggle for tools and raw material regularly, with most merchants rejecting the ragged woman and the old outsider. Whatever they could get, was always overpriced. She began to worry they wouldn't be able to fulfill their contract, but her master assured her it was his contract. As long as she worked her hardest, he would honor his deal at the end of the season. She knew how to cook, and she taught him about human customs and rituals through the dishes they could manage to prepare. To her surprise, the old dwarf had never really integrated into human society. He lived amongst them, but he was always apart. He was particularly fond of sweets, and while his culture produced great baked goods, he wasn't used to the multitude of fruits and berries from human lands. So they foraged together and began to trade for ingredients when they visited the market. He told her about his military career, and how he ended up making weapons. She asked why he left the mountains and that was the first time they had an argument. For a week, they worked without talking, silently going through the motions. She never got the answer. When the leaves turned yellow and brittle, and the season ended, they had ten wonderful weapons to present to the guard. Unlike the people in the village, the soldiers respected the dwarf and seemed eager to convince him to go with them. He rejected their offer. They even turned to her and offered her a job, but everyone in the room knew it was just a ploy to try and get to him. She declined, too, and the mageslayers left with their weapons. So the pair celebrated. They drank, they ate, they used some of the money to celebrate until the sun came back up the sky. It wasn't too expensive, as they were alone and they were tired. They indulged because they had earned it. And the next morning, she approached him. "Why did they reject me?" She asked, and he didn't know. He could not speak for the men that had denied her plea for help a season ago. "Why did you take me in?" She asked, and he told the truth. Because he saw she would never give up. "Why doesn't that sound like a good thing?" She asked, and they laughed. So they set out to work. Now, she knew about weapons. Her hands had worked on blades, and they would forge her own. She knew her limits, her body taken to the extreme and strengthened by the work. She trusted him, and she would be putting her life on the line with his teachings to back her up. And he now knew the kind of person she was. The honor and kindness she had. The way she not only worked, but talked, and traded, and haggled, and explored, and survived. He didn't need to know what her mission was. He trusted her. It would be another season before she made her own blade. And another season before she was fit and strong, her own body reforged. And a final season before she mastered the techniques she had been learning, the metal in her muscles and mind hardening and locking the training in. A year before she would leave the blacksmith's hut. She promised to come back to see him, and he knew she meant it. After all, he had trained her.	2022-08-28T11:54:09	2022-08-28T11:16:14	69	45
[WP] A selkie is stunned when, against common sense, a stranger who stumbled upon her skin gave it back without complaint.	Stunned was the only word that could describe the Selkie. This human, its prey, just gave the skin right back. No questions or comments given. The Selkie thought about this could be. He examined the human before him with an inquisition befitting Sherlock Holmes. His beanie hat looked like it had seen better days. Much better than the work out cloth that this one called a hoodie. He scratched his stubbled face, causing little hairs to fall onto jeans so faded that they might as well be rags. Finally, for whatever reason, he didn’t even bother to tie his shoes. The Selkie looked into the bloodshot eyes thinking that the mystery surrounding this strange human would be revealed. They found nothing. Not even a shake off a cohesive thought was present. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” the Selkie asked. The human lit up a cigarette and said, “I’m going through a lot right now. See ya.”	"Ma'am?" the man looked down towards my human form, and towards the skin he held in his hand, and back to me. "I think you dropped this." he pointed towards the skin. "Oh!" she looked behind her to the rock where she'd left her skin. It was gone. "Um..." she questioned the man. "Did you happen to take this from that rock?" The man frowned, and looked back towards the dock. "My son has apparently hasn't been reading his local legends." A boy was standing by the edge of the dock and the street, his arms crossed, trying to look both as huffy and as small as possible. I smiled, and waved at the boy. He didn't respond. I graciously took the skin, and looked up to the man. "Thank you, sir. Is there anything I can do to thank you?" I smiled. "Well, you've taught my son a lesson, so you've done enough for us already." he laughed. "Just wanted to make sure you could get back safely." I was thinking about just giving the man a thank you, putting on my skin again, and leaving, but there was something about this man that struck me as odd. He looked exhausted, he was still in office clothes despite it being so late. He had bags under his eyes. If anything, he looked... Well, he looked sad. Sad that his son had committed a crime. Sad that he was working so late. Sad that, if the fact that it was just him and his son didn't say enough, the mother likely wasn't there. "Sir, are you alright." A sigh, and the man smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks." The man walked back to his son, gave him a hug, and they walked back on home. I slipped my skin back on, slipped into the water, and joined my friends who were already heading back home themselves.	2022-10-25T20:43:59	2022-10-25T18:45:12	282	100
[WP] No one except for the main character remembers the existence of another main character, not even the narrator.	"Congrats on becoming the main character!" My voice calls out in Mike's head. Mike instantly sits up in bed. "Excuse me? Main character?" "Yes, Mike Byrne, you are the main character of the story I am narrating." I say. Mike shakes his head. "This has to be a mistake. My name isn't even Mike, I'm Steven." He puts his hands on his head, rubbing his face. "Maybe it's a dream, normal people don't hear voices in their heads." "That's because you're not normal, Mike. You're the main character. You always have been, but you didn't progress according to the story line. That's why I'm here!" He stumbles out of bed and rushes in front of the mirror. "No, see, I'm still Steven. Who even are you?" "I'm the narrator, I told you so." It seems like Mike is confused, he needs some help getting on track. "And as the narrator, I'm responsible for telling the story. The story you're supposed to act out. So you best get going!" Mike mutters something under his breath. "How many times do I need say I'm Steven to this trash narrator." "As the narrator I can hear whatever you mutter, Mike." He grumbles as he heads downstairs. "Good morning, Mike! Breakfast is almost ready." Mike's mother announces. Mike frowns. "This is ridiculous. I don't even look like the person in these pictures." He points at the family photo's hanging on the wall. It's Mike and his mother last year during Christmas. "What are you talking about Mike? It's you." I appear in his head once again. "How does he even come close to me? He has black hair, mine is brown!" Mike holds his black hair to show off. ... "It's black, Mike." Has the main character lost his mind? Is that why it all went wrong? Mike rushes out of the house, leaving behind his breakfast. "I will prove to you that I'm not Mike." "And how would you do that..?" I ask Mike. He looks around the city, smiling to himself. "By finding the actual main character." There is no doubt about it, the main character has gone crazy. And it's my job to narrate it all.	# Lifeblinder It's cold on the cliffs. It smells like the sea, churning blue and white and uncaring a thousand feet beneath us. The wind cuts and blows my hair back. From behind me I hear Charon's robes, rich embroidered silk now stained with blood, flapping in the wind. But even that is a distant sound. Otherwise...it's quiet. Now that he's dead. Now that he's finally dead. I look down. My boot is still where I left it, pressed to the chest of the one they call Lifeblinder. It looks gruesome, and brutal, my boot on his chest like that. Not very heroic. But I needed to stabalize when I drove my sword through his temple. It's still there-- burried six inches past his cranium and into the soil Also gruesome. Also non-heroic. "Sorry Mitch," I say, and pull the blade free. "I probably don't look quite like the hero you're always telling me to be. But the deed is done." "The deed is done," echoes a voice, but it isn't Mitch's. It's Charon, staggering forward and holding her head where dried blood at her temple softly mimics Lifeblinder's mortal wound. She joins me at the cliff face. She stares down at Lifeblinder. Shakes her head. Then after a moment, our mage speaks. "Who's Mitch?" she asks, glancing up at me with a frown. "Who's Mit--" I begin, turning a quarter of the way to smile at Mitch. Except Mitch isn't there. No one is there. "Mitch," I ask, loudly. "Durro, you're scaring me..." Charon says, glancing between me and the corpse. She thinks I'm in shock or something. I am confused-- I'll give her that. But not shock. "Oh, shit, did he..." My heart seizes. "Did Mitch fall?" I ask. I can feel my face growing pale. I run to the cliff edge. Like that would do any good. Charon is slow to follow. "Durro," she says, voice steadying itself now that the battle is over, "Who is Mitch?" "Now's not the fucking time, Charon," I mumble. "Time for what?" "For jokes, or...messing with me, or whatever this is." "I don't really mess with people," The mage says slowly, "And I don't think I've ever joked in my life." That was true enough. I peer over the edge. No Mitch, no corpse dashed against the rocks as far as I can see. Of course, if he fell into the ocean he'd be long gone. Vertigo took me for a moment, spinning, wavering, and I took a step back. "Who is Mitch?" Charon repeated. She left me to hesitate while she darted back to her pack to rifle through some scrolls and components. "Mitch, you know, Mitchell Haundrin? You've known him for three years? Pale, medium build, black hair? Do you not remember? What is this?" "It's something," Charon murmured, rifling through her things. "Something--" She stopped mid sentence and glanced up, eyes wide. I turned to follow her gaze. There was a figure there. Cloaked. Standing in the moors.	2022-10-26T06:49:41	2022-10-26T06:14:13	63	16
[WP] A steampunk armoured train roars through a dusty canyon, carrying millions’ worth of gold and silver bullion to fund a war effort. Suddenly, shots are heard from the caboose, and someone shouts “DRAGONS!”	General Mustafa whipped his head towards the heavens. The sky was cloudless, an empty canvas of an artist who had run out of ideas. Not a single balloon-of-war was in sight, no birds arced through the air. He combed the skies carefully, squinting his eyes. He was not a young man anymore, and his eyesight was not what it used to be. Rubbing his spectacles against his shirt, he perched them back on his nose and resumed his search once more. Perhaps a false alarm? Dragons didn't exist anymore. Everyone knew that the last dragon had been slain by Sir Galahad in the 1980s with a Remington Model 4, atop Mount Vesk. Suddenly, a respite from the sun's heat. Mustafa shivered, not at the sudden cold, but at the black shadow that fell across the freighter. The lizard circled the train, once, twice, and settled comfortably on the tracks ahead. They were still moving at full speed, and she did not seem the least bit concerned. There was a shriek of claw-on-steel. The locomotive crashed into the dragon's outstretched claw, 200 tons of engine and metal and coal screeching to a halt. Mustafa was thrown back against the hard linoleum floor, and he bit back a shout of pain as his head crashed against the tiles. He was lucky he hadn't lost consciousness, he thought. Painfully, he pulled himself back to his feet. Shattered glass littered the floor. The bolted doors were warped from the impact, but not so much that they were inoperable. Mustafa opened the door and stepped into the daylight. There she sat, steam hissing lazily out of her pointed snout, forked tongue licking her scaly lips. "So," she said. "Would you like to do this the hard way or the easy way?" \--- /r/theBasiliskWrites	I hear screams all around me. I had been spaced out a moment before, even though I wasn't supposed to on guard duty, but now my features were alight with panic. How can I run from something that can fly, breathe fire, and eat you with one gulp? Is it here for the treasure? Will it leave us alone? All of these thoughts are hammering through my mind. Half of myself wants to book it, and the other half wants to hide, or better yet break down and cry. This resulted in me being frozen, physically shaking with fear. Then the dragon picked up the cart behind me, tore it away from the rest of the train, looked into it and tossed it with disinterest. How was it that close already!? A second ago it looked to be several hundred yards away! I make up my mind, and shoot at it. It has little to no effect. Most of my shots are misses, as I'm still shaking, but the ones I do hit don't do anything. I try to think about what we've learned about dragon weaknesses, but it's a lot harder to act in the actual situation, I discover. All I can remember is someone in the class interrupting and saying that dragons have no weaknesses. "Well that can't be true!" past me thought, but to see one in the present made me think that classmate may have not been to far off. Finally, I collect myself to a degree and run to the next cart. The dragon quickly dispatches another cart. And another. More yet. It soon begins to get annoyed by the little metal bits being shot at it, and grows more violent, instead actively seeking out people to eat them, claw at them, shoot them with plumes of fire. It moves with terrifying efficiency, and I know I won't be able to keep out of it's grasp for long. I'm getting out of breath now...The only thing I can do is jump off the train, but it's still moving, though more slowly, and it stops whenever the dragon tugs on it to get another cart. I know the best option is to just jump off, but once again, I find myself frozen in the cold grasp of fear. I think I would have died there if it wasn't for a sudden lurch in the train that resulted in me being flung out of the cart I was in. The dragon opens the roof of another car. This time when the dragon picks up the car, it appears happy. That's the gold truck. It tears the car away, separating it from the rest of the train. We've failed to protect it, the train has been destroyed, and most of the people on the train have died. I didn't do anything to stop it! Fresh tears leak from my eyes as I'm forced to acknowledge the burning wreckage before me. &#x200B; &#x200B; Dang no matter how hard I try the end of my stories are always just depressing as hell. Also sorry I forgot to add the DRAGONS part because I thought it said dragon singular.	2022-10-29T08:36:03	2022-10-29T05:42:51	33	15
[wp] [nsfw] Destroy my soul: A challenge to write the bleakest, most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom... I wanna feel pain, sorrow and sadness. Lets write some dark fiction. Happy endings, twists and hope are completely optional. Edit: wow this exploded, that's what I get for sleeping on the job, ill be reading these for a while. Thanks everyone who posted one from what I have seen they all look wonderfully dreadful.	The train pummeled down the tracks, teetering on the edge due its high speeds. It approached a corner but didn't reduce its speed. As it attempted to round the corner, the black steam engine leaned too far over the edge and fell off the track, bringing the five cars behind it down as well. Peter sighed and leaned away from his toy train set. He always enjoyed making the tracks himself and moving the train from the station to the lake, to the town, and back again. Peter got bored after playing alone for long, though he had no concept of time. He looked out the doors of the playroom hoping to see his big brother sitting on the couch. This time he wasn't there, and he couldn't hear any sounds from the television. Peter frowned. A minute passed, he decides to stand, putting both his arms forward to push the rest of his body onto his two feet. Peter walked over to his favorite stuffed animal, picking it up by its long, floppy ears that had been sewn up more than a few times. Walking out of the playroom, he headed for the stairs, set on finding Alex in his room. Each stairs was nearly as tall as his lower leg causing Peter to put one leg on the next stair before he vaulted himself up. The long, almost-crawl up the stairs didn't deter him. He picked himself back up, turned the corner, and walked as fast as his legs could take him down the hallway. He approached what he remembered as Alex's room, but saw the door wasn't open. "Alex, can you come play wiff me?" Peter asked, looking down at his stuffed bunny. A moment of silence prompted Peter to step closer to the door. As he did so, he noticed the door knob, higher above his head than he thought he could reach. He stretched his arm toward the knob, hoping to turn it open like he saw his family do so many times before. While trying to reach, Peter tapped the door with his shoulder, swinging the door inward. "Alex?" Peter called out once more. Again, no reply. Peter turned, moving his little legs down the hallway, slowly climbed backwards down the stairs, and walked into the kitchen. "Mommy," Peter said softly. "Yes, dear, what is it?" She replied, while unloading a ceramic dinner plate from the dish washer. "Why isn't Alex talking to me?" "What do you mean, sweetie?" She stopped, looking slightly concerned. Alex was always great with Peter, despite their almost decade age difference. "He just hanging there," sadness consuming Peter's voice. "He won't talk to me." The plate slipped from her hands, shattering on the ground and making an awful noise.	The story starts with a doubt filled aerialist and a nervous girl, both shyly smiling at each other before the real world interrupts, sending him away before she can even think to try and speak with the face that suddenly captivated her. She’s handed a poster by an old clown who can see the loss in her eyes, a picture of the same man, The Aerialist. She couldn’t help it, she had to see him again and so headed into the babble of the circus crowds. Their eyes met as he swooped gracefully across the big top. He faltered, losing grip as the dreams behind their eyes collided. Stunned the graceful acrobat plunged to the floor as their eyes locked. She followed him, plunging into the sand of the arena to find The Aerialist. Then awoke in a place that shouldn’t have been, and yet was. Plains of grey were interrupted by billowing swathes of fabric lit from within, drawing her nearer with their enticingly bright entrances. She moved forward clutching the picture, hoping to find the man she had followed to this place. But they were still strangers for all the magic in their meeting, and so they were lost, for each to find the other they must travel through their combined dreams to learn how to find their other half. Nothing means everything and everything means nothing, or perhaps they both mean something not yet made clear. Both lack confidence and as a result have to fight the often frenzied bursts of activity that seem to burn through the too-vibrant-beautiful-fabric draped worlds only to leave behind drifting rose petals and a softly played cello for a slowly dancing girl. She shows his picture to anyone that will look and he travels across the empty plains following lucky rabbits and water stained moons to find the woman that somehow followed him to this world. He fights off his captors and she finds him from time to time and yearns for him as he flexes and shines, effortlessly manipulating himself around the glowing cube he so casually handles with a joy that takes grip in his/her/their chest. She wants him, but she's still afraid and so he fades away, waiting for her to discover the right dream to make her reach out for him. And after dancing jellyfish, floating beds and boating umbrellas with beckoning clowns they touch. Her expression soft but flushed with desire as she places her small hand into his palm, trusting him to hold her as they dance in the air. While they both wonder how they lived or died since the fall without the touch of the other. What cruel trick of fate deprived them of this deeply joyous feeling? The seamless sensation of her pressing against him as they spun, wrapping themselves in a chrysalis of a perfect moment as his lips seared against hers seeking reassurance that she was here, and felt the same. They had both been lonely in life, but in dreams they had each other and she could fly as well as he. After all the journeys the fighting, the fear and the joy there was no room for doubt. If either were ever to fall again? Well they'd be falling together, no matter what. What they had was too beautiful for words to express, in their eyes and the gentle caress amidst a mid-air ballet with each motion and reaction heightening the feeling that you were watching something too intimate for two people to share with the world. And it was, so that’s where we’ll leave them both. Hanging by an arm each, intertwined with her soft body pressed against his gleaming chest as their dark eyes meet and pull strength from the other so they might never have to stop dancing until the day they stop dreaming. In a circus ring, worlds away, a young woman in a blood-stained white dress stares blankly into space as she kneels in the sand holding the broken body of The Aerialist…	2014-03-24T19:39:56	2014-03-24T17:45:04	79	16
[wp] [nsfw] Destroy my soul: A challenge to write the bleakest, most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom... I wanna feel pain, sorrow and sadness. Lets write some dark fiction. Happy endings, twists and hope are completely optional. Edit: wow this exploded, that's what I get for sleeping on the job, ill be reading these for a while. Thanks everyone who posted one from what I have seen they all look wonderfully dreadful.	The train pummeled down the tracks, teetering on the edge due its high speeds. It approached a corner but didn't reduce its speed. As it attempted to round the corner, the black steam engine leaned too far over the edge and fell off the track, bringing the five cars behind it down as well. Peter sighed and leaned away from his toy train set. He always enjoyed making the tracks himself and moving the train from the station to the lake, to the town, and back again. Peter got bored after playing alone for long, though he had no concept of time. He looked out the doors of the playroom hoping to see his big brother sitting on the couch. This time he wasn't there, and he couldn't hear any sounds from the television. Peter frowned. A minute passed, he decides to stand, putting both his arms forward to push the rest of his body onto his two feet. Peter walked over to his favorite stuffed animal, picking it up by its long, floppy ears that had been sewn up more than a few times. Walking out of the playroom, he headed for the stairs, set on finding Alex in his room. Each stairs was nearly as tall as his lower leg causing Peter to put one leg on the next stair before he vaulted himself up. The long, almost-crawl up the stairs didn't deter him. He picked himself back up, turned the corner, and walked as fast as his legs could take him down the hallway. He approached what he remembered as Alex's room, but saw the door wasn't open. "Alex, can you come play wiff me?" Peter asked, looking down at his stuffed bunny. A moment of silence prompted Peter to step closer to the door. As he did so, he noticed the door knob, higher above his head than he thought he could reach. He stretched his arm toward the knob, hoping to turn it open like he saw his family do so many times before. While trying to reach, Peter tapped the door with his shoulder, swinging the door inward. "Alex?" Peter called out once more. Again, no reply. Peter turned, moving his little legs down the hallway, slowly climbed backwards down the stairs, and walked into the kitchen. "Mommy," Peter said softly. "Yes, dear, what is it?" She replied, while unloading a ceramic dinner plate from the dish washer. "Why isn't Alex talking to me?" "What do you mean, sweetie?" She stopped, looking slightly concerned. Alex was always great with Peter, despite their almost decade age difference. "He just hanging there," sadness consuming Peter's voice. "He won't talk to me." The plate slipped from her hands, shattering on the ground and making an awful noise.	All I wanted to do was help people. When the hats flew in the air, and parents cried near their exuberant kids, I held my hat in my hands, holding onto what was the best thing to ever happen to me. I couldn’t let go, and move on to what life has ahead for me. Let’s back track. I held a knife to my throat. My parents were in the room, crying, my dad on his knees begging while my mom held off my brother and sister. I could feel my hand shaking, moving the sharpened blade over my skin like I do when I shaved. I nicked myself, igniting the first trickles of blood that I hoped to turn into a downpour. My parents didn’t want me here; they never showed their affection towards me before there was a possibility of my death being placed on them, when really it was my life that had caused them so much misery. I wasn’t bitter, I loved them, but I knew things would be better if I wasn’t around any longer. Six months later, I sat in a circle full of other people like me, people they called “sick”. I sat there, listening to the nurse about her life outside our prison, talking about once we got better we could live lives just as fulfilling as her own. I thought she was sick. Once I got out of the hospital, I went right back to high school, back to the doldrums of going to classes, and going home and going to practice, and going home and listening to my dad complain about how his life in a cubicle is awful, but he does it for us kids. Everything was always the same; there was no variety in any of it. Then came college. Oh god, I loved college. The monotony was gone; I could do what I wanted, whenever I wanted. Sure it wasn’t perfect, there were still rules and I still had to do monotonous things, but it was better. I always wanted to help people. While the world was pretty much the same, people were different, with unique personalities and always surprising with things to say. This encapsulated my entire life. Hell, even when I tried to kill myself I was thinking about my family, how my parents always complained about how things would be different if they hadn’t had me so young, before they were even out of high school. How that there biggest regret in life was having me, how I screwed them out of college and money and promise and careers and dreams. How I ruined them. I held my graduation hat in the air, thinking how my whole life has been one big mistake up to this point. When I got to college, I found I made my life better than my parents ever had. Then I realized that was a mistake too. My parents were supposed to be the successful ones and not me. Then I looked to the future. I thought about how everything is set up so I fail. I’m crippled by debt from paying for college, my family hates me, and the rich keep getting rich while the poor get poorer. I thought the future was bleaker than my past, really. I thought as I thought in the hospital all those years ago, how I thought everybody else was crazy. They just keep plugging away against the tide, trying to make things better for themselves, but really all they do is make their lives harder. They don’t enjoy anything, or relax, and take in the little things. I saw this in my dad when he would complain about his cubicle job. Makes me sick to think about it, really. How he wasted his life in a box. I didn’t like the idea of this life, and how when everything is the same there is no way for a person to have control. So I took control. Good thing my knife was still sharp. I found it right where I left it.	2014-03-24T19:39:56	2014-03-24T17:50:15	79	11
[WP] Write the most beautiful end to the universe that you can imagine	It's strange how, now that we've reached the end, old and buried things come back to me. Things I thought I'd forgotten. I'm reminded of something my father told me a long time ago. Back then, I was only leaving home - meaningless compared to this - but what he said stayed with me. It carried me when I couldn't carry myself. When I stand here, waiting for the end of all things, these words are what comes to mind. "An ending", he said to me, standing on the steps of my childhood home, "can be a beautiful thing. Not by itself, but because of the beauty of what it ends. Like a sprinter crossing the finish line, the end is only as spectacular as the race that came before it. The sprinter raises his arms in triumph not because the race is over, but because of what came before." My father had tears in his eyes by that point. He didn't say anything else. I didn't understand him then, but now, as I feel my own eyes watering, I know exactly how he felt. Through teary eyes, I watch the end of everything that ever was. It's as wonderful as an ending can ever be, because what came before was the most beautiful thing I have ever known.	The Lagrangian point L3 was chosen for its sheer isolation on the same orbit as Earth on the opposite side of the sun. A twenty meter thick lead sphere surrounded the laboratory, while complex systems prevented orbital perturbations and radio interference from affecting the instruments within. Only a single opening, thinner than a human hair, stretched from the exterior of the shell towards the center point. There, a perfect vacuum chamber, dubbed "the crucible", sat emptier than deep space itself. Cooled to the smallest fraction of a degree above absolute zero, a single diamond window was its only portal. Within the crucible, suspended in a carefully calibrated magnetic field, a small sample of antihydrogen stood ready to receive the influx of highly charged particles that were being accelerated across the solar system at relativistic speeds by a network of high-powered relays. It was speculated that the bombardment would encapsulate the antimatter within a shell of standard matter, stabilising it for use as starship fuel. What happened instead was like something from a dream. The phases cancelled, lowering the temperature by a factor of the incoming energy, below absolute zero. It was impossible, but it happened. A hole was punctured through the fabric of the universe. There was a great flash, and then silence. Slowly, a brilliant orb floated through the diamond window of the crucible and reached the center of the observation room, casting a golden light over the occupants. As if weighing up the situation, the orb drifted before the scientists who stood agape at their creation. Time slowed, and then stood still. Space grew exponentially. Individual atoms stretched open and revealed forests and stars and galaxies unfolding endlessly like a magician's handkerchief. Standing upon the observation deck, a platform that now encompassed an infinity of universes, the scientists looked at each other in wonder, seeing their bodies as giants filled with stars and galaxies, each with civilisations beyond counting. Powerful thought energies swirled among all who were present, and they all shared the same thought: Had the universe ended, or had their awareness transcended the fourth dimension and they were only now seeing things the way they truly were? They looked upon the Orb, which had now taken the form of a humanoid, and it spoke. "My children. You found me at last!"	2014-09-14T10:27:19	2014-09-14T09:15:47	48	31
[WP]Every child has a monster that lives under his bed. Society's coming of age ceremony is to kill that monster. The time has come for you too to become an adult... Optional: 1)you have become best friends with the monster 2)your monster isn't at all what you though it was	"It's time," said mum, checking an intricate pocket watch. The whole family was there for my thirteenth birthday. It wasn't just my parents. My Aunt and Uncle from the States was also there. And Grammy who was staying in the hospital asked permission from her doctors to go home just for this day. "My big boy would become a man today," she said as she hugged me. I always liked Grammy's hugs. She has always been the most protective of me. But today, she wouldn't be with me. "I remember my 13th birthday not so long ago," my uncle said. "I got a fucking big ass Sasquatch! Hah! Beat that!" "Language!" my mum said. "Oops." "I'm sure Marcus can handle himself. Right Mark?" said my Aunt. I didn't answer. My eyes stayed on the half eaten bacon and eggs. Breakfast. They usually serve an ordinary one on the morning of your thirteenth birthday. But I guess this one was prepared more special. The bacon was crisp. The egg was slightly well done. All of it were expensive market products that my mum doesn't usually buy. But here they are, half-finished. My stomach is turning. "Are you afraid, son?" asked my father. He gave me a stern look. My mind says yes but I muttered "No." "No. No, you shouldn't." "It's time, love," my mum repeated, now looking at my father. Father cleared his throat before saying "Yes. Yes." From his coat, he produced an elongated object wrapped in a silvery silk cloth and laid it on the table. He opened it in the most delicate way, revealing what looks like a dagger inlaid with blue gemstones. In an almost ceremonial fashion, he unsheathed the dagger. The blade shimmered when struck by sunlight, it's rippled face glimmering in colors I never knew existed. "This was my father's dagger that was also his father's. It was owned by men and women of our family. And it's purpose is one thing. I myself have used it when I came of age. Now, I entrust it to you." Around me, I saw the solemn face of my mum, my aunt, and my uncle. Grammy nodded at me. I held my hand and took the dagger. They walked with me up to the door of my room. "This is as far as we could go," said Grammy. "Good luck." "Beat my Sasquatch, Mark!" "I love you." "No matter what happens, no matter what you see, kill it." Sigh. It's time to confront the monster under my bed. My room was dark when I stepped in. The door was closed and the windows, too. Tradition. Or maybe it was part of the ritual. It took a few moments until my eyes got accustomed to the darkness. My room was still the way it was when I left it early this morning. Books and graphic novels were strewn on the floor. My 3DS was on my study table, along with my reviewer for the exams next week. Posters of Batman and his rogues gallery hung on the wall. I shouldn't have hung Joker's peeled face on my wall. Damnit. I won't be surprised if I get a Joker. My eyes fell on the far side of the room. My bed. And what lies beneath it. My heart pounded against my chest. I held the dagger firmly with my right hand then knelt in front of my bed. I heaved and lifted it. And there he was. He sat on an office chair with a laptop in front of him. A spreadsheet program was open. The screen glowed against his face, revealing a ghastly thin face. His glasses was slighly lopsided, the only shield that barely conceals deep lines and eyebags. Below him were vodka bottles and crumpled papers. They were letters signed PV. And some that looked like excerpts from a novel. They say that the monster under your bed is what you fear the most. The greatest fear I have spoke. "Are you surprised?" "No," I said. "For thirteen years, you tormented me. Each night, before I go to sleep, you were there. The more I learn, the more I read, the stronger you get. My greatest fear. It's time." "It's time. Yes. It's time." It was an almost Joker-ish grin. My dagger trembled but my target was set. I felt his hands defend himself but I pierced the dagger further into his heart. My heart. Over and over. I realized I was slashing at smoke. I waited until the smoke cleared up. The future me disappeared. On its place was a pocketwatch strung in a silver chain. Damn you, uncle. I thought I would have to fight a big ass Sasquatch. #	The boy laid in his bed and dreamt of peace. He dreamt of a day when the darkness that lived beneath him would be gone. A time when he could live without fear. Without pain. The pitch blackness of his bedroom seemed to creep in on his sleep, permeating through into his dreams and turning them to nightmares. They were underneath him, around him, always. The monsters tortured him. First they'd called him names: "Faggot", "Bitch", "Pussy." They'd screamed them at him from everywhere. In his sleep, when he was awake, when he was at home and at school. The monsters infected his mind with their insults. He couldn't escape them. The Boy didn't know it then, but the name calling was just the beginning. So he'd been caught off guard, and they hurt him with words. Then they started to hurt him for real. His mother had been first to ask. "What the fuck has happened to you?" She'd scowl, looking at his bruised cheek. He couldn't sum up the courage to tell her so he had just brushed her off and frowned. "Fell down some stairs at school." He thought over the daytimes. His life at high school. About the people who insulted him, those that punched and kicked him. Stole his money. Make him feel like nothing at all. He thought about the girls who ignored him and laughed when he was humiliated in front of them. And each night the monsters had come. They would drown him in their blackness. He began to welcome it. Graduation was approaching and the Boy would seen become a man in the eyes of the world. But he felt nothing like a man. The bullies made him feel like he was nothing at all. Less than human. This was supposed to be his coming of age ceremony, the day he'd finally be free of them all and head to college. Only he couldn't. They'd broken him too early. He'd been attacked the day before a crucial exam and failed it. Nobody had listened to him when he'd complained. His grades had slumped. The monsters had spoken to him in the blackness. They'd told him it wasn't his fault. It's their fault. They hurt you. They made you fail. They're trying to trap you in this town so they can hurt you forever. The night before graduation they whispered louder than ever. He called them the monsters under his bed because it made him feel better. But he knew what they really were. He knew they were his own thoughts. You'll never be free of them. They'll follow you around town no matter what you do next. You'll never be happy. The monsters were right. He had to get free. The next day graduation finally came. The children were exultant in the sunshine, standing around in their robes and hats with smiles on their faces. Families were gathered, teachers stood up on a wooden dias. The Boy arrived alone. His tormentors and the rest of the students all milled around in their best clothes, but he wore only black. Black pants, black shirt, a heavy jacket. He took a seat and watched students who he'd never met or spoken to climb the dias to graduate. To leave the hell that was their high school. The Boy felt his pulse quicken as one of the bullies stepped up. He watched the grin on the face of the boy as he was handed a scroll and threw his hat. His own face was flat. Ashen. His own name was called. He felt himself rise to his feet. Eyes were all around him, boring into him from every direction. Eyes of people who cared nothing about him, people who'd never once stepped in to help. His legs felt like lead when he climbed the steps towards teachers who had ignored his pleas for assistance. But the Monsters spoke to him. They spurred him on. Up onto the dias. Now he stood above his entire school. High on the platform he could see a wave of people who looked at him with blank eyes. Few knew him. Those who did looked with disgust at his clothing. He could feel them muttering. "Why isn't he wearing robes?" He heard one of the teachers behind him ask. His coat fluttered as he pulled it off in a flourish. He'd already drew the pistols before it had hit the ground. His hands shook but he steadied them as the Monster's began to talk. Excited babble, chattering and shouting. KIll them. Kill them. Kill them all! The guns barked out a screaming chorus of death. People ran from their seats, shrieking and crying as the pistols fired again and again. He spun on the dias and blew the skull of the head teacher apart. He fell to his knees with a heavy thud and the Boy had to sidestep to fire into the stomach of one of the female teacher's who'd ignored him when he'd come to her with a bleeding nose and asked her to clean him up. Her eyes bulged from the pain of the gunshot and he kicked her with all his might as she fell. It made his toe hurt. He turned back around as people fled. He stalked after them, picking his shots now. He killed students and parents alike. Blood streaked the grass and he laughed to himself as the bullies who'd haunted him for so long collapsed into the ground. Some were holding hands, others were alone and sobbing as they died in the dirt. The Boy was triumphant and he felt it. Pleasure shone from him and he strolled across the grass, firing and reloading even as the sirens approached. The Monsters were happy. They had gone silent. He was happy. It was graduation, after all. He stepped over a girl's corpse and stamped on her head as he passed. It made a sickening crunch. He smiled. He saw police cars approaching through the line of fleeing people. He headed towards them, guns drawn. The Boy had become a man.	2014-12-09T04:07:50	2014-12-09T03:48:17	25	16
[WP] Destroy the world in the most creative and ridiculous way possible.	They were right. As much as it galls me to say it, they were right. There's nothing to do about it any more, except to rage against the world, but that's kind of already happening without us, you know? How could we know that God really would destroy the world like that? But they were right. Every last fear-mongering, hate-filled one of them. And for all our moral high ground, we were wrong. Letting the gays marry was the end of it all. Well, one particular set of gays, at least. But who knew Jesus and Lucifer were even an item?	"You've mass produced laxatives? Did I hear you right?" "Yes, and I've contaminated everything with them for six months. The resulting shit storm will be epic. Not even animals will be spared." The shit storm was indeed epic. It was supposed to be the greatest prank of all time, but there was so much shit so quickly that sanitation completely broke down. Disease became rampant as people filled emergency rooms which were always covered in shit later resulting in people avoided them. People started to die from routine things, but that wasn't the real problem. Our methane output had increased 2000x, a side effect of this new laxative. I begged him to stop this prank, but he said he couldn't. The Earth warmed rapidly causing the polar ice caps to melt. The world broke into wars, but I thought we just had to wait it out. Soon enough though, the air contained so much methane that people feared a fire might set the atmosphere ablaze. I thought it was ridiculous, but top scientists were talking about shitting your pants and lighting your farts on fire. It was hilariously real. Five months after it started, with millions dead, we finally reached the tipping point, and one fire would engulf the biosphere. Volcanoes had been contained, but North Korea had scheduled a rocket test. There was no stopping them, like always, no reasoing. The air was almost unbreathable any way. Fuck it, I thought as the shock wave was telecast from all over the world. Other blasts like nuclear tests started up, so people wouldn't have to wait. Finally, I laughed. So, this is how the world ends, not with a bang but with a shit induced methane explosion.	2015-06-28T08:43:30	2015-06-28T08:10:39	36	21
[WP] After someone dies, they must be interviewed before it is decided how they will be reincarnated. You are the interviewer.	"We're done here." As the words leave my mouth, the woman before me flashes away. I sigh and rub my temples before taking a sip from my ever-warm tea. At least this is a worthwhile perk. The woman will probably be some lowly insect. Selfish, cruel, and entitled. Complete black and red robe. I could ask for the results of the interview, but I've gotten good at guessing. After several empty moments, the white light flashes again and there's a boy sitting across from me. I eye him over quickly. He's shivering, and his eyes haven't yet adjusted. He can't be more than thirteen. His robes have very few smudges, but the ones he did have were large brown smears. A piece of paper was on the table before us. I knew it held all his relevant information but I didn't reach for it yet. "Where am I? I thought I was-" "-going to die? You did." I sighed again. Always the same questions, and I hated dealing with children. It was rough. "You died, and I'm here to interview you to see how your soul gets reincarnated." The boy didn't seem shocked at my words. He nodded at me as if he understood. As if he had done this before, and death was no big deal. "I don't think you heard me." I said to the boy. "I did. I died." His voice shook a little. So he did get it. "You decide what happens to me." "I don't decide. I just ask some questions, and the higher ups decide." "Thomas. My name is Thomas. I'm eleven. I have two sisters. It's my fault I'm dead. I might only have one sister now." Getting someone who started giving me information was rare, but I took a sip of my tea and told him to continue. "I didn't mean to hit her. I just wanted to play around and she wasn't paying attention. She's older." Thomas's voice began to crack and I watched tears drop to the table. He hadn't bothered to look up. "I heard her head hit the pole and she fell, but I thought she was just being mean. I tried to save her, but I'm not a good swimmer." Thomas had pushed his older sister off a boat by accident, and instead of getting help tried to fix it himself. She was unconscious and while he thinks someone pulled her out eventually he doesn't remember because he was drowning. He had never intentionally done bad things. I knew he was telling the truth because you couldn't lie in this room. He just wished things were easier, more fun. He told me of his family, his pets, his favorite things. He only mentioned one friend, and didn't even bother asking if he'd go back. After he finished speaking, I asked the one question he hadn't answered. "Thomas, if you had one wish, right now, knowing that you're dead, what would it be?" "For my sister to be alive and okay, and for my family to be okay." No hesitation. "Well, it was good talking with you Thomas. Hopefully I don't see you again for a long time. We're done here." Thomas looked up for the first time since he'd arrive, questioning me. His left eye was clouded over, and he started to say "again?" before the light took him. "Show me the results." I was curious. The result I hoped for was rare, and I wanted to see if my guess was right. A paper appeared before me, just like the one that appears with new people. It occurred I hadn't read the one from Thomas. The results typically were decided within a second of the soul departing. I looked at then paper and smiled before folding it in half. RESULT: REINCARNTED AS ANGEL. NOTES: Returned to mortal body.	The man sitting across from you is naked. Not his fault. He died that way. Not the best way to go, but it's not like he can do anything about it. He looks more embarrassed about it than you are - you're thankful, at least, that the table is too high for you to see anything you don't want to. You open the folder sitting in front of you, glance briefly at the first page, then look up at him. "Name?" He blinks rapidly. "Uh?" It's just a formality, really. You have his entire life story laid out nearly in front of you in twelve-point Times New Roman. But it's procedure. You sigh. "Your name." "Oh. Um. David. David Brown." At least this one's cooperative. You lean back a bit in your chair. "Do you know where you are, David?" "Well, I mean--" He crosses his arms over himself. "Those people out there, in the blue shirts. They said this is the, uh, the afterlife. The "Way Station." But." He lets out a short laugh, but you can see the hint of panic in his eyes. "This isn't exactly what I was expecting." You do feel bad for the guy, really, but this is what you hear every single day, from every single person who comes through here. This is your fifteenth interview of the morning. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You flip through to the end of his file, stopping at the cause of death. 'Fell asleep in a hot tub, drowned.' "So I'm assuming you don't want to come back as a fish." David looks visibly startled. "What?" You swear one of these days you're going to kill someone from the Welcoming Committee - what are they good for if they can't even be bothered to explain things thoroughly? You take a deep breath. “This interview is your second-to-last stop before reincarnation.” “R-reincarnation?” His voice is wavering. “Are you a Christian, David?” He nods, mutely. “Look, most of the people who come through here are expecting this. Pretty much none of them are. This is just how it works. This is your fifty-third cycle,“ (He makes a noise a bit like he’s choking.) “and we always give you the luxury of choosing what you want to be next. Maybe you want to try out something new. Like a lizard. Or a tree. Or maybe you want to be human again. I’m just here to figure out what the guys upstairs are going to do with you, alright? It’s easier if you cooperate.” David is silent for a moment. “…fifty-third? And I don’t remember any of them?” You resist the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. “No. That’s how the whole thing works. New body, new life, new memories. Just how it goes.” “And I can be anything?” “Well, I mean, it depends on how long you want to wait – if you want an endangered species, you’ll be on the list for a long time, but there are so many humans being born all the time we have new souls going out every day.” He looks at you in complete wonderment. You forget, sometimes, how crazy this must sound to the humans coming through this place every day – for you, it’s just life. For David, on the other hand, you’re a bit worried he could be in danger of short-circuiting. “I…what if I want to be a dog?” “A dog, huh?” He nods, still looking a bit uncertain. “I mean…my entire life has been so fucking stressful, you know. Just working and working all the damn time, barely making enough money to pay off loans, never catching a break. And when I finally get a chance to relax, I drown in my own damn hot tub.” He laughs. It just sounds sad. “I’m tired of that. I don’t want to do that again. When you see dogs, they always seem so happy, you know? Like they could get excited by anything, like…like life is an adventure.” He stares at you with a gleam in his eyes. “You could do that?” You nod, pasting on a smile. “Yes, David. We can do that.” And you stand, closing his file and pushing in your chair. “We’re done here. One of the Tour Guides will take you to the Waiting Room.” He stands as well. You get an unwelcome eyeful of his junk. “Could I be a Golden Retriever? We had one, when I was a kid, they were always my favorites.” You decide not to tell him that you don’t get to be picky about subspecies – he actually looks kind of happy. “I’ll put in the word with the boss.” You guide him, with one hand, out to the hall. “Now come on. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you.” The door swings shut behind him.	2015-08-26T14:51:38	2015-08-26T14:39:51	19	11
[WP] The King is dying and decides to abdicate his throne before he dies. During the coronation ceremony, he places the crown on a servant's head and declares him king, rather than one of his two sons.	Prince Horace raised an eyebrow at his aging father. "Your Highness, that's... that's your servant. Timothy and I stand before you; why did you go to such great lengths to crown a mere commoner?" "Silence," King Jerry croaked. "I have crowned the rightful heir!" "But I'm the eldest," Prince Timothy protested. "If you're going by inheritance, I would be the king." "And," Horace added, "if you were to go by competence, it would be Sir Kendrick. He has, by far, proved himself to be a wonderfully skilled knight, with the might and intelligence to match even the greatest kings. If you do not wish to pass on the crown to your sons, I suppose I understand that, but... why Ian?" "Silence!" the king roared. "Ian shall rule after me!" "Father, he can't walk two steps without tripping on his own feet," Timothy said. "And he does nothing but gossip all day," Horace exclaimed. "And he scares the chickens," one of the maids screeched. The king stamped his foot. "Are none of you listening?! Ian is the rightful heir! He's my son!" The court gasped in unison. Sir Beritan, a particularly effeminate nobleman, stuck his nose in the air and scoffed, "Even our dear king isn't above fathering bastards!" King Jerry waved his hand dismissively. "Not like that, you presumptuous pansy. You see, once upon a time, I was convinced that I was... er... impotent, if you catch my drift." "Catch your... Father, why are you using anachronistic language?" "Silence! So, I became concerned that I wouldn't have any children. Thus, I grabbed Ian and told him that when I died, he would be my heir. I am going to keep that promise and make Ian king!" Twelve days later, the kingdom was burnt to the ground.	The bright interior of the official throne room was illuminated by the powerful sun shining through the stain glass windows lining the long hall, creating a mighty atmosphere for the change of kings. Royalty displayed themselves like a wedding party: the two princes on the left and the three princesses on the right. Nobles lined and sprinkled the ornate hall. The fragrant air wafted with scents of roses, sunflowers and a varity of herbs. Down the hall strode the bishop to perform his abdication duty, a formality, but required. He thoughts upon snacks, high quality, kingly snacks. A slight smile warmed the solemn bishops face a little. The weak and weary king rose from his throne, raising his hand for silence. "Thank you for gathering here today. I will not be leaving for awhile yet, but today is the day to release my crown." Knowing murmers swept through the crowd like a new broom freshly thrashed on a dirt floor. "Horswald! You have some food, I mean, good, ideas for being king... Where are you?" His aged eyes dart for his friend and servant. "Ahh, there you are..." He laughed and contined,"...at the tortes... Come come!" Raising his crown, the King says, "Wait a minute!" And sets his crown back on his head. "That is where it goes for now, because..." Murmurs again swept through the crowd, this time looking like like ripples and waves in a studied bowl of water. "Tortes please!" He called, his face lifted in triumph. Laugher and chuckles bounced through the room, echoing softly off the royal walls. A servant swarms to his side, proffering baked goodies. Taking a bite, he sits down and crosses his legs, leans back and lifts his arm theatrically, raising the torte high. "Just kidding." He coughs, projecting a few bits of carbs and sugars out his orifice. More slowly this time, he stands. "Horswald..." He announced, as he places the torte on the tray before removing his crown. "It is time." The king gestures in front of him, welcoming and insisting the presence of Horswald. Horswald kneels. Gasps and frustrated noises dared permeate the silence. Many dukes and barons would be forced to change political tactics and other interesting courtly affairs. The royal princes, each shocked in their own despair, --although one secretly relieved for he is a monk at heart--quietly made unsatisfied vocalizations. "I have made up my mind." Thundered the king. "I am neither required, nor beholden, to any of you!" "Bishop!" He declared, thrusting the royal crown forward, perhaps the last official thrust the king would ever make. "Horswald is my successor." --- --- Thanks for reading! Critiques and comments are appreciated. More stories can be found in /r/OhLookItsAStory.	2016-02-12T16:10:01	2016-02-12T13:51:05	24	12
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard." EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad. This blew up a lot more than I thought it would. I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments.	Damn bitch would be here any minute. I sighed, trying to steady my nerves, wishing I had something to drink. Had to confront her sometime, might as well get it over with. Though I could just wait until they evicted me and I had to move back in with mom...no, I'm a better man than that. My phone buzzed. A text? Was she here? No, an email. No subject, sender was some random string of numbers and letters, only one line of text: "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current level: Very Hard." Weird. Maybe Jeff was pulling a prank? Jeff's pranks usually sucked though. Ketchup packets under the toilet seat, shaving cream on a slice of pie. Fuck it, I decided. I typed "Yes" and hit send. The reply was almost instantaneous. "Please choose level: Easy Medium Hard Very Hard Extremely Hard". I typed "Easy" and hit send. I waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. I laughed at myself for thinking anything would, which meant I felt far less nervous when I heard the knock at the door. Had to be her. I walked over and opened it. "Shonda--" I began, but she cut me off. "Who the hell are you? Where's Jamal?" She pushed past me into the apartment. "Jamal? Baby, you here?" Perplexed, I responded, "Shonda, it's me, what are you talking about?" She wheeled around and shot me a suspicious look, as if I was the one hiding something. "The hell are you talking about? I've never seen you before in my life!" Confused, I stepped towards her, lifting my arms to take her by the shoulders when I noticed my hands, for some reason unusually pale...	Her head was against the wall. Today was falling apart. She lost her girlfriend in the cruelest way possible: a thirteen second voicemail clearly recorded at a party. A voicemail that awful girl clearly hadn't meant to send. Her head hurt. She was all cried out and had exhausted her Taylor Swift playlist. If that wasn't enough, she had been waiting all day for Alice to come home to mourn her job. She hate working there, but this made it that much harder to pay the student loans worth several of her body parts on the black market. She wished she could figure out where the black market was. She was out of beer, too, because beer costed money she didn't have. That and Alice took the last of it with her to that party she said was a meeting with a client. It never was a client, was it? She was moping. She hated to mope, but she couldn't find the strength to do anything else. Her phone cawed from across the room where she'd thrown it earlier. That thing still works? She stood and walked to it, head dizzy. Probably Alice looking for a ride home. Or realizing she'd fucked up big time. She looked at the screen. There was a giant crack in the middle, which was to be expected but was still just another setback she couldn't afford right then. ~Do you want to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard~ She looked at it in puzzlement. She hadn't gotten spam emails since that blocker came out, worth the money she should have used on food. So maybe it wasn't spam. She clicked on the email. ~This lovely holiday users have been granted a once in a lifetime chance to change previously permanent choices! Don't miss out! Change your difficulty today! ~ So it was spam, then. It was a weird one. What kind of game didn't let you switch difficulties? Maybe she should reply. Maybe she shouldn't. ~Sorry, what is this for? ~ She pressed send. ~Choices •Daddy Will Always Help You •Easy •Average •Difficult •Very Hard •Moriarty? ~ Should she? No, she didn't play weird games like this. Not even in a time of crisis. She fell asleep holding her phone. She woke to the sound of the world rejoicing. The news was on. "And suddenly the economy has become better. It might be that over 90% of graduates have paid off their student loans at once-" "How bizarre. Tom, what did that do to?" "The government in turn used that money to raise minimum wage and-" I stop listening. I check my bank account. Negative. Negative? Yesterday it was empty. She looked at the TV again. This has to be a coincidence. Right?	2016-03-30T17:32:38	2016-03-30T16:54:04	107	12
[WP] We've explored more of the lunar surface than the bottom of the ocean. NASA knows what's down there, and it trying to get us off Earth as fast as possible Since this is getting a lot more attention than I expected, I should point out where I got my inspiration for this post from: https://i.imgur.com/tXkZaIL.jpg I hope this isn't too annoying, but I've been working on a piece of writing at r/worldsaway and I'd be very grateful if some of you could check it out!	Beneath the murky ocean A giant creature lies. Its belly growing empty, It opens up its eyes. Many years of sleeping, Since prehistoric times. Long extinct creatures, Had kept it satisfied. But a dreadful pang awakes it, A hunger wells inside. 6 billion tiny people, Will die if they can't hide. Up un-to to the surface, The great behemoth glides. And it begins consuming, It starts the genocide. Buildings burn and people, say 'All is looking bleak'. But the creature didn't count on, NASA's famous geeks. They leash the creature up with steel And fly it into outer-space. then shout 'Don't mess with, the mighty human race!' ---- :) For my other WP responses please check out /r/nickofnight	Johnson brushed away his popped collar, silently complaining about the burden it was. He wiped away the layer of sweat with the rolled up cuff of his sleeve. The room was a chilly 68 degrees, which was the worst part, and he still was sweating as a result of the job. He cursed to himself as he leaned forward over the monitor; he hated having to work so late. Oh well, he thought, That's what I get as the head of NASA. His team had discovered something. Or, rather, a very long time ago, someone discovered something. Lurking, deep in the ocean depths, there was something. They needed to get off Earth. Johnson's eyes flicked between monitors, constantly switching to try and keep track of whatever was down there. It was a difficult job, a tedious job, but one so important. The pitch-black room, his face only lit by monitors, only made it more stressful. It had to be pitch-black. Otherwise, they wouldn't see it. Johnson sighed, and with his free hand, started controlling one of the underwater drones, looking around. So far, nothing. Then again, a normal night was like this. Wait. Johnson sat straight up. He thought he saw something, in Camera 5, something moving. He peered intently at it, trying to see what it was. To his relief, however, it was only one of the deep sea creatures swimming around. He turned his attention to the rest of the monitors, to be greeted with static. He gasped, he swore, he stood straight up and started calling for the military, for the other NASA members. Before he could finish, the ground thundered. The air vibrated as the creature roared, deafening Johnson. He realized it was too late. They'd finally surfaced. The Leviathans had woken up. --- I feel like there's a few parts here where I could've done better, especially in setting the mood for the whole thing. Just leave any constructive criticism tho, assuming anyone reads this.	2016-05-24T03:17:32	2016-05-24T00:53:39	185	41
[WP] We've explored more of the lunar surface than the bottom of the ocean. NASA knows what's down there, and it trying to get us off Earth as fast as possible Since this is getting a lot more attention than I expected, I should point out where I got my inspiration for this post from: https://i.imgur.com/tXkZaIL.jpg I hope this isn't too annoying, but I've been working on a piece of writing at r/worldsaway and I'd be very grateful if some of you could check it out!	It had all happened so quickly. Our entire race had spent so much time. So much effort screaming into the cosmos. Launching time capsules, relics of our humanity into space on the vague hope that something out there would pick it up, and take us under there wing. Nobody would ever come. And Now, I alone know why. My name is Jack Hardus. Im a marine biologist studying deep sea life in a new state of the art deep sea base, at the bottom of the Mariana trench. I had spent weeks doing the oh so very mundane. Picking through fallen whale carcasses. Viewing angler fish and gulper eels through remote controlled camera drones. But yesterday, it all changed. I reading the measurements on a new machine, and I discovered something strange in the seismic readings. A pulsing pattern. Every few seconds, a thud, as if someone was steadily hammering away at a wall. I had to wipe my eyes and look again. I sprinted to my drone control station, praying the conclusion I was drawing in my head was wrong. I took control of a drone, and piloted it down into a crack in the bedrock and kept going down. The pulse got louder and louder, almost deafening, before finally....I saw it on the cameras. At first it looked like oddly colored magma. But I saw it. Blood. Fluids, and a colossal beating heart. I piloted my drone through the seemingly endless maze of flesh as my heart raced. This was not some colossal creature, I thought to myself as I ordered the drone to dodge another massive artery. This was not some leviathan beneathe the earths ocean.... This is earth. This is the core. I passed a translucent stomache, filled with the forms of unknown shining ships, and cities obviously not of human origin. This is not a planet... This is a creature... Curled up... Hibernating.... Is this why no other species has reached out to us? They did not see this as a planet... It was a monster. And we are the mites on its back. We've spent so much time gazing at the dark above us, we've so long ignored the dark below. I sit here now, writing this with a bottle of jack Daniels next to me, and a gun with a single bullet to my right, as i cant bare to live knowing what i know. I've been reading the machines. The colossal sleeping beast is waking up.	"Mr. President I don't think you are taking this seriously enough. Stop laughing!" The president continued to laugh. The idea was ridiculous. He knew the boys at NASA were willing to say anything to get funding for their toys, but this was too much. "I am willing to believe in Atlantis or Aqua-man. Heck, I'd believe in an ancient species of dormant aliens,but if you expect me to believe that all the toxic waste and trash we have dumped into the ocean has grown sentient, well, that's a bunch of baloney! Right, guys?" The president looked to the stone faces of his science advisers and the rest of the cabinet. They all turned to the energy secretary. "Roger, your a man of science tell me I am not going to have to go on national television and explain that there is a trash monster coming for us!" The energy secretary, Dr. Roger Wei, was soft spoken and highly logical. He was a big believer in the scientific method. After examining the evidence presented by the NASA scientists he had no choice but to concur. "I am afraid, Mr. President, all the evidence backs them up. The pictures may be murky but the data is crystal clear. There is new intelligent life on this planet and it is mainly composed of our garbage. Unfortunately, it also appears to be largely hostile." "Why can't we, pardon the pun, take out the trash" The president asked, turning to the defense secretary. The defense secretary shook his head. If you had asked him a couple weeks ago if there was such a thing as an unbeatable enemy he would have said no. With enough nukes, high powered explosives, and marines we could take on anybody. Aliens, mutant hairy spiders, heck he liked his chances against these trash men until a lowly private had asked a simple question. How do you trash trash? Blow it up? It doesn't care it's trash, the sick things would probably enjoy it. Even worse any attempts to confront the trash men would inevitably result in more trash. An unbeatable enemy. "Mr. President, who wins in a fight, a thousand marines or a stick?" the defense secretary asked. "All it takes is one Marine to break the stick. Obviously the Marines" The president replied. "Wrong, you now have two sticks. The stick wins every time. The same goes for these trash men. The only solution is go off world. Run with our tails between our legs to the moon." "What about recycling?" the president asked. "I don't think you understand the scale Mr. President, what about biological waste, nuclear waste, reality television? The defense secretary and NASA are correct. The moon is our only hope. Pray to God it doesn't follow us." Dr. Wei answered. "How much time do we have?" The president asked finally accepting the reality of the situation. A man stood up and spoke. "Mr. President, I represent the sanitary workers of the country. For centuries men like me have taken out the trash. Occasionally we strike, but that doesn't mean we don't love our jobs. The military can't handle this and neither can the scientists. Only men like us who know the trash are equipped to fight it. Sisyphus has nothing on a sanitary worker. We'll hold them off." Over the next few years the world banded together and in a stunning feat of cooperation and human ingenuity built a fleet of ships to ferry humanity to the moon. And on the moon humanity survived looking down on earth as it turned brown and stinky.	2016-05-24T04:52:09	2016-05-24T03:51:05	145	31
[WP] We've explored more of the lunar surface than the bottom of the ocean. NASA knows what's down there, and it trying to get us off Earth as fast as possible Since this is getting a lot more attention than I expected, I should point out where I got my inspiration for this post from: https://i.imgur.com/tXkZaIL.jpg I hope this isn't too annoying, but I've been working on a piece of writing at r/worldsaway and I'd be very grateful if some of you could check it out!	The last shuttle to the lunar colony had left over a month ago. Those lucky enough to afford the ride were the same ones unfortunate enough to learn what the fate of those left on Earth would be. The rise of the oceans was a slow creep initially. Every few weeks you would see notable coastal regions shift from green to blue. Then came "the wake." A cataclysmic event that will stick with the remaining bit of humanity left in space until its end. The blue cascaded over the green as the final reserves of ice fell away in fiery explosions. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye with each continent simultaneously being engulfed by water from all directions. The final moments of those left on our home must have been terrifying. But true terror was unbeknownst to the deceased. They had their death and it surely was quick. Under the water lived something ancient. Something that while we evolved on land, bided its time for millions of years under the sea. Hiding in the deep crevices of the Earth, unreachable by any unknowing land or shallow-sea dweller. We had never seen one, never spoken with one, only saw evidence of what they were planning. Our satellites began noticing large movements of lava under both poles years ago and wondered how little seismic activity there was for such a vast shift in our Earth. It couldn't be plates moving or any natural shifts. It became clear something was deliberately heating up the ice. It was later theorized that these tunnels were slowly dug over the course of thousands of years. Underground caverns that even if we knew were there, would have been there long before we could ever know of their existence. NASA warned those it wanted. A worldwide evacuation in the short time frame there was to work was out of the question. It came down to who could help with what was needed, who could afford the ride, and who could keep it quiet. By the time all the supplies were shipped and the last evacuee off Earth, the whole world knew the theories, but most took them for lies. Those of us starring down at the world knew the land was never returning. "They" didn't want it coming back. The Earth was theirs now. Disclaimer: don't give me shit about there not being enough ice to cover the whole world in water, in this world, there is. edit 1: deleted a couple words	"Mr. President I don't think you are taking this seriously enough. Stop laughing!" The president continued to laugh. The idea was ridiculous. He knew the boys at NASA were willing to say anything to get funding for their toys, but this was too much. "I am willing to believe in Atlantis or Aqua-man. Heck, I'd believe in an ancient species of dormant aliens,but if you expect me to believe that all the toxic waste and trash we have dumped into the ocean has grown sentient, well, that's a bunch of baloney! Right, guys?" The president looked to the stone faces of his science advisers and the rest of the cabinet. They all turned to the energy secretary. "Roger, your a man of science tell me I am not going to have to go on national television and explain that there is a trash monster coming for us!" The energy secretary, Dr. Roger Wei, was soft spoken and highly logical. He was a big believer in the scientific method. After examining the evidence presented by the NASA scientists he had no choice but to concur. "I am afraid, Mr. President, all the evidence backs them up. The pictures may be murky but the data is crystal clear. There is new intelligent life on this planet and it is mainly composed of our garbage. Unfortunately, it also appears to be largely hostile." "Why can't we, pardon the pun, take out the trash" The president asked, turning to the defense secretary. The defense secretary shook his head. If you had asked him a couple weeks ago if there was such a thing as an unbeatable enemy he would have said no. With enough nukes, high powered explosives, and marines we could take on anybody. Aliens, mutant hairy spiders, heck he liked his chances against these trash men until a lowly private had asked a simple question. How do you trash trash? Blow it up? It doesn't care it's trash, the sick things would probably enjoy it. Even worse any attempts to confront the trash men would inevitably result in more trash. An unbeatable enemy. "Mr. President, who wins in a fight, a thousand marines or a stick?" the defense secretary asked. "All it takes is one Marine to break the stick. Obviously the Marines" The president replied. "Wrong, you now have two sticks. The stick wins every time. The same goes for these trash men. The only solution is go off world. Run with our tails between our legs to the moon." "What about recycling?" the president asked. "I don't think you understand the scale Mr. President, what about biological waste, nuclear waste, reality television? The defense secretary and NASA are correct. The moon is our only hope. Pray to God it doesn't follow us." Dr. Wei answered. "How much time do we have?" The president asked finally accepting the reality of the situation. A man stood up and spoke. "Mr. President, I represent the sanitary workers of the country. For centuries men like me have taken out the trash. Occasionally we strike, but that doesn't mean we don't love our jobs. The military can't handle this and neither can the scientists. Only men like us who know the trash are equipped to fight it. Sisyphus has nothing on a sanitary worker. We'll hold them off." Over the next few years the world banded together and in a stunning feat of cooperation and human ingenuity built a fleet of ships to ferry humanity to the moon. And on the moon humanity survived looking down on earth as it turned brown and stinky.	2016-05-24T07:31:21	2016-05-24T03:51:05	58	31
[WP] You pray to God, wishing that you will get a boyfriend/girlfriend before you die. He gives you immortality.	O Lord in Heaven, I pray to thee, Do not let me die alone. I want to feel a woman's touch, To be loved down to the bone. Please, Lord, help me so, Before my heart is overgrown, With weeds and moss left untrimmed, Boiled over with love unbrimmed. "I will grant thy wish," said the Lord, Smiling ear to ear. Just look to the sky with open arms, and salvation you will hear. I did as such, tears streaming down, Devoid of spite and fear. I felt God's love wash over me, And smiled thinking of what could be. So I waited; I did not pursue, Knowing God yet had a plan. I waited a year, two, then ten, And still remained but one man. My skin stayed smooth, soft like silk, I felt not the millennia's span. My loved ones died, yet I remained, Forced to endure a life still pained. "Why, Lord?" I cried out to the skies, "Am I one which you so despise? "Am I not worth more than lies? "Answer me, O one who's wise." Only silence greeted me with still voice, and time passed by without a choice, I took my life with full rejoice. Yet my eyes would not close. The world fell, and rose once more, Cities faded as I watched, alone. Earth devoured by its system's core, And I floated through a world unknown. A billion years passed, more or less, Though time was dead to me. Til one day the Lord confessed, Why this was my destiny. "How could you just leave me so?" I had not the will to even cry. "My child, this was all for show," He spoke with a smile wry. "To teach you that even when all is lost, "When the world is ash and oil, "I'll still be here, no fingers crossed, "To heal wounds of endless toil." There we stood in an endless sky, My eyes now somehow slick. I looked the Lord right in the eye, And kicked him in the dick. ---- I'm a shit poet ^^/r/resonatingfury	"Listen Steve, it's just not going to work out between us." "But why not? We're perfect for each other." Sigh. Yet another man taking me out to some fancy dinner. Yet another disappointment waiting to happen. "We can never be a couple, Steve. You don't get it. " "What don't I get? We've been dating for-" "Um, we haven't been dating. Boyfriends and girlfriends date. We've just been hanging out together. As friends." "Okay, whatever you want to call it. We've been having so much fun 'hanging out' together. You're the only person who's ever gone skydiving with me, and we even had a good time just playing video games and eating pizza. Don't you think we could at least try and see what happens?" "I'm sorry Steve, but I really think we'd be better off staying just as friends." That's when he did something terrible. He put his hand on top of mine, looked at me with soft eyes, and slowly leaned across the table for a kiss on the lips. I, of course, smacked his cheek as hard as I could. "Get the hell away from me, Steve! If you so much as look in my direction again, I swear I'll call the police." All the silent staring faces in the restaurant were on us, just as I'd wanted. Humiliating a man this badly was the only way to get him to stop. I know; I've done it eight-hundred and sixty-two times. A thousand lifetimes ago, when I was a teenage girl bedridden with sickness in ancient Rome, I prayed to god that I would find a boyfriend before I died. For reasons I still don't understand, he made me immortal… until I find a boyfriend of course. But since then, I've discovered that there are things way more fun than boys. Fighting in wars, traveling to new worlds, even eating pizza and playing video games. I want to see everything the future has to offer, and so long as none of the men in my life call me their "girlfriend," I'm all set. God doesn't mind technicalities when it comes to granting immortality, I guess. "Wait! Please come back!" I'd completely forgotten about Steve. He chased after me as I stomped toward the restaurant exit and grabbed me by the arm. "Please, why don't we just try being boyfriend and girl-" My eyes flared and my heart pounded. This was not good. I did not want to turn into a pile of ancient dust as soon as Steve proclaimed his stupid love for me. I panicked, ripped a fork off a nearby table, shoved it into Steve's hand, and then thrust it into my neck. Yeah, it hurt, but it's not like it'd kill me. Blood sprayed out like a lawn sprinkler, and I played dead on the ground as the restaurant erupted into shrieks of terror and 911 calls. A team of waiters apprehended Steve and subdued him and his murder fork to the floor. It was hard, but I resisted the urge to smile. I'd had to fake my death a bunch of times before; I was pretty good at it. Now let's just hope that the doctor who will "miraculously" save me doesn't fall in love with me like the last twenty did.	2016-09-21T07:43:39	2016-09-21T06:36:05	152	107
[WP] Once a year you switch bodies with a random person who is best in the world at a certain skill. You can't change back until you discover what this skill is. You've been changed for a month and are starting to get worried.	I sat behind the curtain. The guy on the other side was clearly keeping the crowd entertained. Every joke he dolled out landed with perfect timing. Could I really do any better? Then again, was it really a question of whether I could do better? It felt like I'd tried everything at this point. Various board games? Nope. A sport, perhaps? The local college's intramural teams taught me the hard way that that wasn't the case. And I'd exhausted pretty much every option that I could test on my own. I ran out of ideas a week ago, yet somehow there were always new things to try. And in a minute I was going to try one more thing that hadn't occurred to me before. "Thank you, have a great night, L.A.!" I heard from the other side. The crowd erupted, and I heard him walk off-stage. Okay, my turn now. I ran my fingers through my hair and walked around the far side of the curtain. The host asked the crowd to please give me a warm welcome, and they did. Then I was in front of the microphone, and all eyes in the comedy club were on me. I gave the standard comedian introduction. "Hey, L.A., how we doing tonight?" They replied with the standard audience response: a mix of "woo" and clapping. I never really understood what that meant. "Listen, I don't expect you guys to shower me with any praise tonight. I mean, this is Southern California—I think the last time you guys had a shower was during the Bush administration." Nothing. No one laughed. "Bush Senior" I clarified. Silence. OH NO. They thought I meant taking a shower. I had meant rain. Shoot. Shoot. Okay, I could pretty safely assume this person isn't the best comedian at this point. Although... what if this was just the setup? Couldn't the best comedian actually come back from such a terrible start? Worth a shot. "I see the new Mac OS has come out, and they're continuing the convention of naming things after California landmarks. Sierra, Yosemite, etc., right?" I brought out a note card. "Well, in case anyone here is from Apple, I brought a list of suggestions for the name of the next Mac OS based on other well-known California landmarks." I cleared my throat. "Mac OS tar pits." Silence. "Mac OS depleted aquifer." Nothing. "Mac OS Zodiac killer." Maybe a chuckle in the back, but it also might have been someone coughing. Then I saw a shadow—couldn't see more because of the lights. But I heard a thud beside me. I looked over to see half of a hamburger. Someone threw a hamburger at me. I continued reading. "Mac OS dusty field where a reservoir used to be." Audible booing now. "Get off the stage!" Someone down front yelled. "Mac OS overpriced San Francisco apartment." Then it happened. Something I only saw the shadow of caught my eye. Before I knew what was happening, my hand reached up and snatched something right out of the air. I turned it over and looked at it. A bag of Sun Chips. Another shadow—I dropped that bag and immediately caught another bag. This one was open, but I spilled nary a chip. I heard a few impressed sounds from the audience, but more stuff was incoming. Most of it hit me—celery, fries, pickles, more hamburgers—but every time a bag of chips was thrown, it was soundly in my grasp before I even thought to respond. "What the..." I said to myself. "Is my skill to be able to catch bags of chips better than anyone in the w—" WOOSH. I was laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. My hand was stretched out in the same position, but now nothing was there. I sighed. I sat up and looked to my left. On my dresser was a clock, and next to it was something that looked like a clock. I grabbed it and held it up. On its face read, "364:23:59:32." I set it back down. I made it.	6 months. That’s how long James had been trapped in this old man’s body. Every waking moment was spent methodically searching through the cluttered house, trying to find any clue as to what modicum of talent the old bastard possessed. It wasn’t singing — these lungs had long since closed up from years of smoking, evident from the pervasive reek of cigars in the house. It wasn’t anything to do with athletics. James needed a cane just to move around, and the creakiness of his joints suggested decades-old joint replacement. He even lost a couple games of checkers to an equally-as-old man at the park. 7 months. James was really beginning to get worried. He could feel his body degenerating. Every night he would wake up in a fit of coughing. The blood on his sheets suggested this 85 year old capsule was degenerating. He had to find a way out. There had always been a way out. 10 years ago James was sorting through his high school graduation gifts — microwave for his dorm room, money from his aunts and uncles, a new computer. But the strangest item he received was an alarm clock from someone named “Uncle Victor.” He didn’t know of an Uncle Victor, but wasn’t too surprised, his parents were both Catholic, after all, and he had a bigger extended family than he knew what to do with. The alarm clock was strange in that it was counting backwards from 24 hours. He spent a little while trying to figure out how to set it properly, but there were no buttons or dials, not even any batteries, so he set it on his bedside table and forgot about it. The next day James was again in his room searching through Facebook for his new college roommates, when he heard a sudden buzzing from his bedside table. He turned towards the clock, but as his eyes made contact with the clock he felt a sudden jolt. There was a temporary pain throughout his body, and a blinding white light that made him shield his eyes. When he opened them again he was walking through a tunnel he knew well. It was Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland. He had been to games here with his Dad when he was younger. As jarring as the sudden supernatural change of scenery was, it didn’t take long for him to figure out who he was. For a brief time he was able to experience the power, vision, tenacity of his generation’s greatest basketball player. During a time out after a particularly vicious dunk, James muttered to himself, “Holy shit. I’m really Lebron, the best basketball player in the world.” A flash of light, a brief moment of pain, and he was back in his bedroom. This time the clock read 365 days. It had been a wild 10 years. Every year James had been given the chance to try out a new extraordinary person’s life out. He occasionally lingered a little longer if he particularly enjoyed the life he inhabited. He spent 2 weeks at NASA because of his love of science. A month as the best table tennis player because he had always wanted to spend time in China. Other times he wanted out as quickly as he could. The worlds fastest stenographer was only interesting for a few hours. When he wanted out he always knew what to do, and what to say. The key was to announce to himself that he was “the greatest” or “the best” of something. This time was different. What was he the greatest at? 8 months. James knew he was racing against the clock. Every day he debated going to a doctor to try to save the body that was holding him prisoner. But he was convinced he could find the solution before this cancer, or whatever he was suffering from, took his life. He wasn’t even 30 yet and certainly not ready to die. He knew he would find the answer. ------ James walked up the familiar creaking steps and gave an exaggerated knock on the door. There was no answer, not that he had expected one. He lifted the flower pot on the window sill to retrieve the key. A quick turn with his youthful hands yielded a familiar clack and strong odor of cigars. There was something a little more offensive in the air. The acrid scent of death. Without bothering to move past the entry way he lifted the phone receiver and dialed 9-1-1. “I’ve just discovered my- my Uncle Victor, I think he’s ill. Oh God I think he’s dead. Please send an ambulance. 23 Cedar Drive.” He put down the receiver and turned his attention to the bedroom down the hall. He casually stepped over the lifeless body on the floor, bent down and retrieved a dusty shoebox from under the bed. “I’ll be needing you in about 50 years,” he said as he placed the alarm clock in the old box and carefully tucked it away. James approached the bureau and pulled a box of cigars out of the top drawer — his favorites. He grinned at himself in the mirror, examining the smoothness of his visage like a work of art. “Victor, my old man, you’ve done it again.” He took a pause to sniff of one of the cigars. “You truly are the consummate survivor.”	2016-09-26T08:26:06	2016-09-26T08:24:47	30	17
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."	Just got a short one I thought I'd share. I pressed the button down confidently, its smooth surface becoming rigid as it locked into place, steel manacles locked around my hand to hold it in place. The door that I entered in had disappeared as I walked In. But another door appeared as I pressed the button. The lady next to me smiled, while I tugged at my hand, trying desperately to free it. She finally spoke again "thank you for that dear, my hand was in the same place until you pressed the button to get in here. But as much as I'd like to see you trapped here for as long as I've been, I have 100 years of lost time to catch up on" She made her way to the only exit, woefully out of my reach. I called out to her frantically "wait! I'll starve! You can't leave me here" She giggled and stopped, not turning around as she responded. "The room won't let you die, you'll just... exist. It's dreadfully boring most of the time but you'll just have to wait. Someone will show up eventually, 40 years if you're lucky, more if you aren't." She smiled and left the room, flicking a switch on the other side of the exit to seal me inside, ignoring my shouts and pleas for help..... It's been around 84 years since she left, I'd like to forget her but the room won't let me, she fills my thoughts, all I can say is I'm glad my left hand was trapped, it allowed me to distract myself occasionally. But I digress, today is a momentous occasion, my hand was freed from the button, it made a little popping noise as it reset. The door slid open and closed behind the new entrant. I greeted them. Copying the woman's words exactly. "You can press the button, nothing will happen...."	######[](#dropcap) Hilary Flint grinned despite himself. "Clever girl... So happens next?" The red-haired Fae smiled and bent down to peck him on the cheek. "Now I go and you stay. That trigger is connected enough Gelignite to blow you and everything around you for twenty paces into ashes. Think well of me, love." "Every second of every day," Flint replied, admiring the view as she moved towards the exit. "Oh, and Morgan?" She turned, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Yes?" "You're still the same heartless bitch I knew when I was twenty- you've just gotten better." "Crueler," corrected Morgan the Fae. "And you're still the same impetuous, reckless idiot I knew when I was three hundred. You've just gotten bolder." "Bette-" Flint began to say, but she vanished in a whirlwind of feathers as black as coal. Instead he sighed and cracked his neck, and settled down for the wait. Faith Alathir arrive some five hours later, her face etched with annoyance. "Where in the blazes were you? I was forced to listen to some Spriggan ambassador's drivel for what seemed like forever. I nearly was about to slap him just to get to shut up. The least you could've done was clodger up some excuse for me to remove mysel- oh, shit." Flint waved at her- with his free hand obviously. His other hand was red from the constant pressure placed onto the button, and it was obvious that the strain of maintaining the effort was beginning to take its toll. "Take my advice, kid. When a beautiful woman shows up wearing nothing but a smile, don't take her up on an offer of sport and play." "You got played," said Faith bluntly. "I got played," agreed Flint. He'd dragged a blanket over himself so that at least he had some degree of decency, though it was obvious by the state of the bedroom that something very amorous had recently occurred. "Now listen, Faith. According to an unreliable source I'm currently holding down the trigger to enough explosive to blow myself to kingdom come, and I don't have a disarming kit. And my hand's beginning to cramp." Faith took a half-step back. "What are the chances it's a fake bomb?" Flint shrugged. "Pretty good. But we're talking about a Elf who'd once placed a spellmine underneath a child's doll just to kill the parent. Her double-crosses have a dozen layers to them, and even her lies usually true. It's a fifty/fifty shot that it's real. I really don't like those odds." "So what do we do?" "We do nothing. I see how much longer I can hold this and how far the pieces of me are likely to fly if I'm right. ....I don't want to be right."	2017-01-05T13:49:11	2017-01-05T10:11:42	28	13
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."	Just got a short one I thought I'd share. I pressed the button down confidently, its smooth surface becoming rigid as it locked into place, steel manacles locked around my hand to hold it in place. The door that I entered in had disappeared as I walked In. But another door appeared as I pressed the button. The lady next to me smiled, while I tugged at my hand, trying desperately to free it. She finally spoke again "thank you for that dear, my hand was in the same place until you pressed the button to get in here. But as much as I'd like to see you trapped here for as long as I've been, I have 100 years of lost time to catch up on" She made her way to the only exit, woefully out of my reach. I called out to her frantically "wait! I'll starve! You can't leave me here" She giggled and stopped, not turning around as she responded. "The room won't let you die, you'll just... exist. It's dreadfully boring most of the time but you'll just have to wait. Someone will show up eventually, 40 years if you're lucky, more if you aren't." She smiled and left the room, flicking a switch on the other side of the exit to seal me inside, ignoring my shouts and pleas for help..... It's been around 84 years since she left, I'd like to forget her but the room won't let me, she fills my thoughts, all I can say is I'm glad my left hand was trapped, it allowed me to distract myself occasionally. But I digress, today is a momentous occasion, my hand was freed from the button, it made a little popping noise as it reset. The door slid open and closed behind the new entrant. I greeted them. Copying the woman's words exactly. "You can press the button, nothing will happen...."	The screen turned on as Glen stepped into the final room. "Congratulations," the robot droned in her robotic voice. "You have reached the final room." She paused for a moment. He looked around the room. It was blank, with white walls matching his clothing in their plainness. A red button sat on the wall. "Please press the red button on this wall." Glen looked at it, and walked over. "So what happens if I press this button?" "Nothing," she replied. Of course, she was lying, but there was nothing else he could do. He pressed the button, smirking. The sound of machinery filled the room for a moment, and he felt the room jolt. The door quickly disappeared from view, the floor rising above it. He froze. "What did you do?" The robot grinned, something she had never done before, and he felt chills drill through his spine. "It's when you let go that things start happening. Good luck." The pace of the room was accelerating. By now, he reckoned, he must be at least twenty feet in the air. A fall from this height would easily break his legs, if not worse. He needed to release the button. But the room didn't change. Though he could feel the vibration of the elevator, and his feet were heavier than usual, the room stayed the same. And he was afraid to let go. He took a deep breath. He had to accept his fate. "On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "I'll let go when I count to three." He closed his eyes. "One." "Two." "Three." He released. The vibration stopped, the noise stopped, and a horrible feeling of weightlessness overtook him. He started floating, and reached for the button. But he brushed against the wall, and his fingertips pushed him slowly towards the middle of the room. He swore, and looked back. By now, he had floated to the ceiling, and he reached his legs back and placed them against the wall. His shoes gripped against the wall, he slowly bent, and then he sprung from the ceiling straight for the red button. A horrible squealing sound seemed to come from everywhere, and he was slammed to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on, and the squealing turned into a grinding as the room shook, and slowed. "Come on," he managed through gritted teeth. "Come on," he whispered. "This can't be it. This can't be it. This can't -" With a full thud, the room jolted to a stop. He smelled smoke. Another door on the opposite side of the room opened. He had made it. He could finally get out of this blasted place. He flopped to the floor and started laughing.	2017-01-05T13:49:11	2017-01-05T11:28:44	28	10
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."	The smile fell off my face abruptly. "Jesus, Alice," I said, frowning. "Why do you have to do this all the time?" "Do what?" She said, innocently. "Just... it's the way you answer things. You knew what I wanted to say from context." I kept holding the button down, perversely. "I don't see how that's my fault. You could have been more specific in your question," she said mulishly. She crossed her arms, frowning at me. I rolled my eyes. "This is like that other time, you know, with the shark." "That was completely different. Most sharks don't, in fact, eat humans." "Yes, but the shark in that particular tank did." God rest that poor man's soul. "And what about the time in Pamplona?" "How was I to know that they were going to let that bull out at that exact moment?" "Because they had just announced it two minutes ago!" I shouted, still leaving my finger on the button. "Jesus effing Christ, Alice!" I took a deep breath, shaking slightly. "Ok. So how do I get out of this?" She shrugged, a little hurt. She turned away, picked up her bookbag. "I dunno. You can figure it out." "Wait- you're not just going to leave me here, are you?" I started to panic. "Sure. You got all the answers, you figure it out." The door clicked shut behind her. Shit. This was it. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Not even a chair to sit in. I took a deep breath, and lifted my thumb. --- Alice leaned against the wall, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen. The door opened quietly, and he walked out. Somehow, improbably, covered head to toe in shaving cream. He shrugged. "Coulda been worse."	######[](#dropcap) Hilary Flint grinned despite himself. "Clever girl... So happens next?" The red-haired Fae smiled and bent down to peck him on the cheek. "Now I go and you stay. That trigger is connected enough Gelignite to blow you and everything around you for twenty paces into ashes. Think well of me, love." "Every second of every day," Flint replied, admiring the view as she moved towards the exit. "Oh, and Morgan?" She turned, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Yes?" "You're still the same heartless bitch I knew when I was twenty- you've just gotten better." "Crueler," corrected Morgan the Fae. "And you're still the same impetuous, reckless idiot I knew when I was three hundred. You've just gotten bolder." "Bette-" Flint began to say, but she vanished in a whirlwind of feathers as black as coal. Instead he sighed and cracked his neck, and settled down for the wait. Faith Alathir arrive some five hours later, her face etched with annoyance. "Where in the blazes were you? I was forced to listen to some Spriggan ambassador's drivel for what seemed like forever. I nearly was about to slap him just to get to shut up. The least you could've done was clodger up some excuse for me to remove mysel- oh, shit." Flint waved at her- with his free hand obviously. His other hand was red from the constant pressure placed onto the button, and it was obvious that the strain of maintaining the effort was beginning to take its toll. "Take my advice, kid. When a beautiful woman shows up wearing nothing but a smile, don't take her up on an offer of sport and play." "You got played," said Faith bluntly. "I got played," agreed Flint. He'd dragged a blanket over himself so that at least he had some degree of decency, though it was obvious by the state of the bedroom that something very amorous had recently occurred. "Now listen, Faith. According to an unreliable source I'm currently holding down the trigger to enough explosive to blow myself to kingdom come, and I don't have a disarming kit. And my hand's beginning to cramp." Faith took a half-step back. "What are the chances it's a fake bomb?" Flint shrugged. "Pretty good. But we're talking about a Elf who'd once placed a spellmine underneath a child's doll just to kill the parent. Her double-crosses have a dozen layers to them, and even her lies usually true. It's a fifty/fifty shot that it's real. I really don't like those odds." "So what do we do?" "We do nothing. I see how much longer I can hold this and how far the pieces of me are likely to fly if I'm right. ....I don't want to be right."	2017-01-05T14:03:00	2017-01-05T10:11:42	20	13
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."	The smile fell off my face abruptly. "Jesus, Alice," I said, frowning. "Why do you have to do this all the time?" "Do what?" She said, innocently. "Just... it's the way you answer things. You knew what I wanted to say from context." I kept holding the button down, perversely. "I don't see how that's my fault. You could have been more specific in your question," she said mulishly. She crossed her arms, frowning at me. I rolled my eyes. "This is like that other time, you know, with the shark." "That was completely different. Most sharks don't, in fact, eat humans." "Yes, but the shark in that particular tank did." God rest that poor man's soul. "And what about the time in Pamplona?" "How was I to know that they were going to let that bull out at that exact moment?" "Because they had just announced it two minutes ago!" I shouted, still leaving my finger on the button. "Jesus effing Christ, Alice!" I took a deep breath, shaking slightly. "Ok. So how do I get out of this?" She shrugged, a little hurt. She turned away, picked up her bookbag. "I dunno. You can figure it out." "Wait- you're not just going to leave me here, are you?" I started to panic. "Sure. You got all the answers, you figure it out." The door clicked shut behind her. Shit. This was it. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Not even a chair to sit in. I took a deep breath, and lifted my thumb. --- Alice leaned against the wall, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen. The door opened quietly, and he walked out. Somehow, improbably, covered head to toe in shaving cream. He shrugged. "Coulda been worse."	The screen turned on as Glen stepped into the final room. "Congratulations," the robot droned in her robotic voice. "You have reached the final room." She paused for a moment. He looked around the room. It was blank, with white walls matching his clothing in their plainness. A red button sat on the wall. "Please press the red button on this wall." Glen looked at it, and walked over. "So what happens if I press this button?" "Nothing," she replied. Of course, she was lying, but there was nothing else he could do. He pressed the button, smirking. The sound of machinery filled the room for a moment, and he felt the room jolt. The door quickly disappeared from view, the floor rising above it. He froze. "What did you do?" The robot grinned, something she had never done before, and he felt chills drill through his spine. "It's when you let go that things start happening. Good luck." The pace of the room was accelerating. By now, he reckoned, he must be at least twenty feet in the air. A fall from this height would easily break his legs, if not worse. He needed to release the button. But the room didn't change. Though he could feel the vibration of the elevator, and his feet were heavier than usual, the room stayed the same. And he was afraid to let go. He took a deep breath. He had to accept his fate. "On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "I'll let go when I count to three." He closed his eyes. "One." "Two." "Three." He released. The vibration stopped, the noise stopped, and a horrible feeling of weightlessness overtook him. He started floating, and reached for the button. But he brushed against the wall, and his fingertips pushed him slowly towards the middle of the room. He swore, and looked back. By now, he had floated to the ceiling, and he reached his legs back and placed them against the wall. His shoes gripped against the wall, he slowly bent, and then he sprung from the ceiling straight for the red button. A horrible squealing sound seemed to come from everywhere, and he was slammed to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on, and the squealing turned into a grinding as the room shook, and slowed. "Come on," he managed through gritted teeth. "Come on," he whispered. "This can't be it. This can't be it. This can't -" With a full thud, the room jolted to a stop. He smelled smoke. Another door on the opposite side of the room opened. He had made it. He could finally get out of this blasted place. He flopped to the floor and started laughing.	2017-01-05T14:03:00	2017-01-05T11:28:44	20	10
[WP] The year is 1910. Adolf Hitler, a struggling artist, has fought off dozens of assasination attemps by well meaning time travelers, but this one is different. This traveller doesn't want to kill Hitler, he wants to teach him to paint. He pulls off his hood to reveal the frizzy afro of Bob Ross.	There he sat, twirling his personal, stylized mustache. It was avant garde, just like he wanted to be. The man, as he was so, just wanted a place in this world for his art. He continues to stare at the easel, thinking. After a while he felt a firm, calming hand on his shoulder. He sighed, hanging his head wearily. "Are you yet another man come to end my life, if you can even see it that way?" The hand didn't answer, as it had no mouth. However, it's owner did, speaking the soft, assuaging tones that had come to make him famous. "No sir. I've seen too much death and war to want to do another such thing. Instead, I have come as a tutor. Here, grab that 2 inch brush and dip it in some titanium white and prussian blue." Hitler did such a thing, and the man behind him nodded. "Good. Now, mix them together, until you have a rather nice pale blue..." Adolf did so, his brush strokes trembling across the pallette. "Easy there tiger, try to keep yourself calm, now. Painting is all about being steady, confident." Adolf nodded again, and went this time, albeit a bit slower, and mixed another selection. After he had done this the stranger patted his shoulder. "Good, now let's see you paint a nice, open sky." "But how? I can barely paint the ground, let allow what lies above it!" Sighing, the man grabbed a firm hold of his arm and lifted it up. "All you have to do is nice, tiny Xs, like so.." A portion, the top left hand corner was soon filled with a nice layer of blue. "Now go ahead, try it." Adolf sighed and attempted this, and, to his surprise, mimicked the man's stroke almost perfectly. "Ah! There ya go! Now, wash that brush off in your water and beat the devil out of it on your wood there..." At this point, adolf couldn't help but turn around in surprise. "You want me to beat my easel with it..?" The afro'd figure behind him nodded, pulling off his woolen hood. "Yes sir I Do. Go on. It won't hurt it." "Tell me who you are first, then maybe I will..." The figure smiled a bright smile, as a squirrel popped out of his hair. "Why, I'm Bob. Bob Ross. And I heard you wanted to be a painter." ------------ Just popping in to say thank you the beautiful person who have me a gold.	The man outside knocked on the door hard. He paused for a minute, still as a statue, then knocked once again. The rain fell outside in a steady rhythm, and by this time the man’s shoes had become damp. A minute passed, then another. The man crouched under the awning and pulled his bag to safety. It had begun to leak an ocean of colors. Red and blue mixed with green, as a wave a rainwater swept it down the muddy steps. The door creaked open and a suspicious face peeked through the crack. “Hallo, was willst do?” The man behind the door inquired. The man on the other side cocked his head and put his hand do his ear. Almost invisible with the naked eye, a small earpiece was nestled firmly in his ear. It whirred to life. “Hello, what do you want?” The earpiece repeated. “Hello, my name is Bob Ross. If you have a moment, I’d like to teach you about the joys of painting.” The man’s voice outside was soothing, and as soon as he had finished his sentence a small device in his hand translated it for his company. “Mind if I come in?” With that, Bob shouldered his way inside. With a gentle dominance, he lay his bag on the table and began unpacking. “What are you doing? What is this?” The owner of the house backed away from the table, and it was clear he grew increasingly uneasy. “I just want to show you the joy of painting.” Bob continued, as he took a canvas out of his bag. “Just give me a chance.” “Why are you doing this? Get out of my house." Bob ignored the request; “I just like to spread joy.” With that, a genuine smile crept across Bob’s face, and he drew back his hood to reveal a bushy afro underneath. “Please my friend, take a seat.” “Hitler.” “Please, Hitler, take a seat.” Hitler reclined warily onto his sofa while Bob set up the canvas across from him. “Now, what I like to paint most is the beauty of nature. There’s just something so magical about our world. First, I want to get a nice blue for the sky, and some dark hues for the ground. Let’s make it a nice summer scene in contrast to all this dreariness.” Bob continued with his presentation, explaining each technique and stroke. Hitler grew more and more interested, and eventually rose to inspect the painting. “Why do you do such thin strokes of the brush? I would think a more decisive movement would be key.” “Well, Hitler, sometimes the best art comes from gentleness and patience.” Bob’s soothing voice answered. Bob finished his painting; it had been nearly three hours. He usually worked at a faster rate, but this was one painting that couldn’t afford any mistakes. “So Hitler, what do you think. Want to take a turn?” Hitler shifted, and the creak of the floorboards beneath his boots was the only sound. He wordlessly swept his hands around the paintings frames and touched its surface with the utmost care. “Why is it you paint, Bob?” “It’s what I love to do.” “I feel the same, yet I have never produced a piece such as this." Hitler paused, "this is truly a masterpiece.” “Well, I can teach you all I know. What do you say?” Hitler closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. "I..." He trailed off. "I'm not..." He stopped, and put his hand to his mustache. Bob reached for his coat, and fingered a sleek metal object. There was only one thing to do if Hitler said no.	2017-02-16T17:14:05	2017-02-16T16:48:00	2,660	179
[WP] After several millennia's worth of torture for stealing fire from the gods, Prometheus has escaped to offer one final gift to mankind.	I woke up, turned over, and looked at my clock. 5 o'clock? Why am I getting up so early? Something wasn't right, I hadn't woken up before 7 o'clock in years. Just then, a loud noise started emanating from the wall by my feet. A bright light started to show, then a portal opened up, like I was still inside that one game from Valve. I peered inside, and I saw peaceful mountains. It was the greatest view I'd ever seen, everything seemed so peaceful and undisturbed. And then he appeared. A crazy-looking man, seven feet tall, with the nastiest scar I'd ever seen over his stomach. And he was running straight at me in terror, an eagle chasing him. With seconds to spare, he got through the portal, and he closed it with the Eagle no more than a few feet away. "Sorry, to scare you, mortal, but I don't have much time. Any second now, Zeus will be here, pissed off at me. I have something I need to be given to humanity. You work with that fire that I gave to you guys a few millenia ago, right?" he said, clearly in a rush. "Yeah..." I replied, unsure of what he was talking about, but not wanting to offend a guy who could clearly take me in a fight. "I use it to push man up, away from the Earth, and into space." "I have something that I need to give you now. You use this fire for transportation, but I need to show you the secret means that the gods use." he continued, talking even faster than I knew was humanly possible. He then pulled some blueprints out of his pocket. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. They were plans for a spaceship, but not one that used any means of propulsion I recognized. All of the thrust seemed to come from one device, a cone with the tip cut off. Light would bounce around in there, and somehow produce thrust. Writings on the blueprint said it could get 1 N s of impulse for 1 Joule of energy. There was no way it could work, this would break every law of physics in existence, but I took photos of the blueprints with my phone, just to indulge the madman. Suddenly, I heard a loud boom, coming from right behind me. I turned around, and there was a giant hole in my wall, with man holding a lightning bolt in his hand floating just outside of it. "PROMETHEUS! YOU HAVE DEFIED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!" he boomed, before he flew at the man who had shown me the blueprints, and then the new guy grabbed the first one by the neck and lifted him, back through the hole he made, and flew away. At the time, that had been the craziest thing that I'd seen, but I saw something crazier a few weeks later. I built a prototype of the propulsion system that he showed me, just in my spare time, assembling pieces from scrap copper I found lying around, and it worked. My handbuilt copy, even when I tested it in the vacuum chamber at work, still made some thrust. In the weeks after, I researched Prometheus. He brought fire to man, and was punished for it. But his rule-breaking led to a revolution. Once man could use fire, man started to dominate the Earth. Now, once man uses this, he will dominate space.	"I've escaped! Damn the Heavens! Damn the Gods! Hahaha. I've ESCAPED!" Prometheus yelled like a deranged lunatic. "Ha... I've escaped." He said more softly this time, assimilating the reality to his preconceived notions. Chaos was reality not conforming to one's hard-wired preconceptions. He had been imprisoned for far too long. He had been a test subject for the most atrocious and horrific tortures imaginable. He looked down at himself. His body showed the hundreds... No, thousands of years of torture. Charred and scarred skin littered his body. His once herculean muscles were now replaced with skin and bone. His nails, both on his fingers and feet were now replaced with a hard coating of skin. Punctured in multiple places of his body were arrows and throwing daggers. He brought his soot covered hand over his face. Half of his vision was dark. When his fingers touched the eye socket... There was a hole instead. These wounds however, weren't what caused Prometheus dread. He was no mortal. He was a demigod. His wounds would heal over time... If it wasn't for the Sacred Sword in his chest. It was a sword carried by a God. He could feel his demi-power fading. The sword was absorbing, leeching his Life-force. He would die soon, paying a price for his crime and escape. 'Crime?... Hahahaha! It's an accomplishment! I've taken the Fire of the Gods! My goal, it's complete! My life's work! A criminal? No... I'll be a Hero! A saint! A miracle-worker!' Prometheus laughed at the Heavens with defiance and hatred. Around him wasn't the World of the Gods, but instead the mortal world called Earth. 'Earth' Prometheus thought with fond, kind memories. 'I've returned. I have not forsaken you all.' The Gods wouldn't be able to cross into the Mortal world. It was his home, one that he would be able to save at the price of his life. Earth was ruled by Dragons... The vicious and overbearing apex predators of this World. The beings that tip-toed the threshold of Godhood. Humanity to them were nothing more than slaves... A workforce and food source. The land was covered by ashes and soot, the greenery long lost in the echos of Time. Prometheus gripped his hands shut and tightened his jaw. His people had suffered for too long. He tried to calm himself down, before the anger and vengeance blew out the last wisp of his life. "Even in my death, I'll have my revenge!" He screamed in his heart with determination. The Gods would pay. The Dragons would pay! Humans would have their revenge! He would have his vengeance! Prometheus covered his heart with his right hand. He could feel the Fire of the Gods in his heart. With the last remaining speck of his Power, he spoke with a voice that covered each square inch of Earth - To each and every human alive. "My fellow humans... I have returned. I have brought the Fire of the Gods. It will be our salvation! It will bring us Freedom! It will gain us Revenge! I will bury the Fire deep within the Earth. Those chosen will become the bearer of the Flames! THE LORDS OF CINDER! The Dragons brought about the Age of Destruction... We shall bring about the Age of Fire! Go forth, and wreck havoc on the Dragons that enslaved us, and the GODS WHO HAVE FORSAKEN US!" He ended his words with the strength that that contained his Life. His hand tore through his skin and rib-cage, grabbing his weakly beating heart. In the next moment, Prometheus crushed his own heart and took hold of the Fire of the Gods. The Gods believed that he had hidden the Fire... They tortured him about the location of this Heavenly treasure. He accepted that punishment because he knew that one day, the Gods would regret the day they hadn't killed him. Prometheus carried out the Fire of the Gods from his chest with a fading vision. With the last inkling of his strength, he slammed the Fire of the Gods in the Earth. That blow carried his entire strength, being and will, and the will of the human race. The shock wave caused by that blow was heard around the World. Thus began the Age of Fire.	2017-05-29T09:00:24	2017-05-29T06:31:06	53	29
[WP] A man buying 24 watermelons and 36 apples becomes self aware that he's in an elementary school math problem. The fruits and their quantities are arbitrary. Edit: My first post here, so any feedback on the prompt is much appreciated.	Adam glanced at the watermelons in the back of his car and did a quick count, 24 just like he had paid for, his eyes drifted to the passenger seat and he was reassured by the sack full of apples waiting to be unloaded. His girlfriend, Betsy, had been extremely forceful with him about making sure they had enough fruit for her uncle Charlie and aunt Dee. After a good 10 minutes of unloading watermelons and one very unruly sack of apples he sat down at the table to admire his work. the sack of apples tipped over and one rolled out Adam has 36 apples and 24 watermelons "There can't be any harm in having just one..." He thought, grabbing the stray and rubbing it on his shirt before taking a bite. The apple was amazing, it was the most delicious thing he had ever had and he finished it off in a dozen ravenous bites. As he tossed the core aside, another apple happened to roll out of the bag and again he thought "That apple was really good and I skipped lunch, I'm sure Charlie and Dee won't mind..." When Adam tossed aside the 6th apple core, he was pretty full. He was pretty impressed that he ate 6 of the apples that were supposed to last 4 people over a 6 day long visit. When the apples kept rolling out of the bag as soon as he finished one, he had been a bit suspicious, but they were delicious so he didn't mind. He stared at that 7th apple that had rolled out and grabbed it to put back in the bag. He couldn't! He couldn't even open his had to drop the apple. He stared helplessly as his hand brought the apple to his mouth and his mouth opened, taking a bite out of the apple with a sickening crunch. "HELP!" he cried through the mouthful of apple. Nobody was home... Betsy was out picking up Charlie and Dee at the airport. he started to cry as his hand discarded the 7th core and picked up an 8th. His mind going blank with terror. If Adam eats half the apples... The wet plop sound woke him up, a glance to the side showed Adam a medium pile of apple cores to his side, sitting in a puddle of vomit. the vomit covered him and his stomach hurt so much. he counted 18 cores. He stood up, relieved the ordeal was over, and walked to the phone on the countertop to tell Betsy to not come home. As he turned, out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw one of the watermelons twitch... and one third of the watermelons...	Harold stopped by the general store on his way home from work. He was an impulsive man, prone to excess, but managed to hold a steady job at the tonic water factory despite his frequent and flagrant outbursts during business hours. After the workday, he often stopped into town to fetch supplies to feed his hobby of building model deserts. On this day, he needed some extra sand (his main staple) for his latest model of the Gobi. Once at the store, Harold spied the daily special: apples for $7 a dozen and watermelons for $12 a dozen. How curious, Harold thought. "I don't need fruit in bulk, but it seems too good an offer to pass up." He picked out two dozen apples and three dozen watermelons, hefting them in his hands to find the weightiest ones. He liked his fruit with a high water content. "A hydrated lifestyle is a healthy lifestyle," he said to himself. Once his shopping cart was full of fruit, he wheeled it to the front of the store. "Twenty-four apples and thirty-six watermelons," he told the cashier. "Those are some remarkably divisible numbers," remarked the cashier. Harold paused to think about this revelation. It was as if he was in one of those mathematics problems he used to do in the third grade, just before his formal academic career had ended. "I need to divide these apples and watermelons among my friends," said Harold. The cashier nodded sympathetically, glad that this bumbling man had finally realized his place in the world. The cashier needn't have worried. As the subject of a story problem, Harold could no more have chosen his fate than the inanimate apples that lay in his cart. He was compelled to divide the fruit among his friends. It seemed to Harold that he was in his own reality, a world of both free will and uncertainty. But Harold was merely a pawn in the McMillan Math Reader for Young Learners, forced to endure an endless loop of going to the store to buy inordinate amounts of fruit to divide among his friends. All this came back to Harold as he stood in the check-out line, holding a watermelon in each hand. He shook his head, as if trying to clear water out of his ear, and repeated his epiphany. "I need to divide this fruit among my friends." Scarcely had the words left his mouth when he was struck by his second existential realization of the afternoon. He, Harold, had no friends. Not a single soul in this mathematical universe could be claimed as being in any sort of amicable relationship with Harold. At this thought, Harold dropped the two watermelons, letting them smash on the floor. He picked up another two watermelons and smashed them on the floor too. Soon all sixty pieces of fruit lay in a watery heap. "I quit this book," said Harold, and he strode out of the store. Young Geoffrey sat at his desk, his McMillan math book open in front of him. His homework was to complete the first five exercises on page 38, all involving some stooge named Harold with a penchant for division. The page had suddenly gone blank, and Geoffrey couldn't shake the feeling that Harold had somehow lifted himself from the page into the real world. With an alarming start, Geoffrey looked at the 45 pencils and 18 dictionaries sitting on his own bed. The pencils seemed to be calling him. Geoffrey bolted for the door, but slammed against it when he found it locked. His mother had locked him in until his homework was done. Or had he always been in this room with the multitude of pencils and dictionaries? Geoffrey couldn't quite remember . . .	2017-06-05T21:19:08	2017-06-05T14:54:53	18	10
[WP] After you die you learn why the Grim Reaper is portrayed holding a Scythe. It isn't to harvest you, it's to protect you from something on your journey.	"THEY ARE ADVANCING ON US IN GREATER NUMBERS. YOU MUST BE IMPORTANT," Death's voiced, echoing like a dying gasp in a tomb. "GOOD. WE NEED SOMETHING TO EVEN THIS OUT." "What are those things?! They ate that other girl! Is this Hell or something?" I whirled suddenly, looking for more attackers. "I lived a good life! I don't deserve to be in Hell. I should be in Heaven!" "THIS PLACE IS NIETHER, AND THOSE NAMES ARE NOW MEANINGLESS," Death rasped. "THE HEAVENS AND HELLS HAVE ALL ALIGNED TOGETHER TO FACE THIS GREATER THREAT. I AM TAKING YOU TO VALHALLA, THE BASTION OF REALITY." "Val...Valhalla? But I'm Episcopalian." "IT MATTERS NOT," stated Death. He paused, like the last breath of an old man. "GOOD OR EVIL, HANGED GOD OR OLD GOD, HINDU OR SHINTO, FROM GEHENNA, ELYSIUM, TARTARUS, HELL, HEAVEN, IT MATTERS NOT. ALL GO NOW TO VALHALLA." "But, why Valhalla," I questioned. "Isn't that like, for Vikings? All drinking, and wenching, and fighting and stuff?" "BECAUSE," Death replied, "IT IS THE GREATEST FORTRESS IN CREATION, WITH THE GREATEST WARRIORS IN ALL HISTORY. WHERE ELSE BETTER TO BUILD THE GREATEST ARMY IN ALL REALITY? ALL ARE NOW CONSCRIPTED, BECAUSE THE ALTERNATIVE IS ANNIHILATION. WE, ALL OF REALITY, IS AT WAR." Death began to pick up the pace, seeming to have an anxious look on his face, as much as a dead skull with vacant eye sockets and a rictus grin can look anxious. "All of reality is at war? With what?" I asked, nervously swinging the sword Death handed me as he ushered me from my body to, well, whatever this field is. I almost bumped into him, as he had stopped and was crouching. "FROM THOSE THAT EXISTED BEFORE REALITY. THEY ARE BACK. QUIET NOW; THEY ARE NEAR." Death gripped the haft of his scythe tighter, ready to swing in any direction if need be. I gripped my short sword shakily in both hands, feeling wholly inadequate. Every rock, every bush, every single point on this weird landscape seemed ready to birth out danger and new horrors. If I wasn't already dead, I'd have had a heart attack on the spot. Suddenly, the bushes to our right exploded with activity, and more of those formless shadows sped towards us. As I responded with a mix of horror and atavistic, primal rage, the thing took shape: a nightmarish conglomeration of tentacles, hooks, claws and mouths, all gibbering and slavering incoherently. I swung for the abomination's head, and cleaved it from its body with a wild gesticulation and strangled scream. The noise it made in it's death throes would be enough to drive the sanity from a rock, a low basso rumble that rapidly escalated to piercing shrieks that shot directly into the soul. I ran to help Death, who, while clearly an able fighter, was constantly missing the mark. His swings were expertly performed (as far as I could tell), but it almost seemed as if Death couldn't find what he was aiming for. Screaming in fear and desperation, I swing again at the thing's head, again severing it. Panting, I fell to my knees, my legs quaking too much to hold me up. "Why didn't you just cut it's head off?" I gasped between heaves. "HEAD? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" was Death's somber response, like the faint tolling of an iron bell. "THESE THINGS HAVE NO FORM; IT IS WHY THEY ARE SO HARD TO DEFEAT." "What? I can see them. They're hideous! But I cut both their heads off. You mean to say," I started slowly, "that you can't see what I'm seeing here?" "NO," came Death's reply, "BUT THINGS ARE NOW BECOMING CLEARER. WE MUST MAKE HASTE TO THE FORTIFICATIONS AT BIFROST," his chill tone continued. "I WILL USHER YOU TO THE GENERAL HOST OF YAHWEH, ODIN, AMATERASU, AND GILGAMESH. YOU MAY CHANGE THE TIDE FOR US ALL. AND I'M SURE THE COMMANDER OF THE HOST WILL WANT TO TALK WITH YOU." I cowered a bit at the implications of that statement. "Who could possibly command the gods themselves?" Death turned to me, his sockets piercing my essence and bringing an artic chill over my entire existence. "TED. FROM ACCOUNTING."	Clyde's eyes fluttered open. At least he thought they did. He'd worked for the city cleaning sewers for 30 years, but nothing had prepared him for the inky blackness that engulfed him. It's not like it bothered him - in some ways it was comforting. Better than scraping shit, tampons, condoms, and God knows what else so that the downtown Seattle didn't drown in its own refuse at least. "Nice to be lying down at least," he thought. Of course he didn't remember lying down, but he was old. He was getting used to not remembering things, and actually found some enjoyment out of it. It was fun to pretend to forget the kids' names every so often and make them panic. Bunch of babies. Maybe they should've visited more often. "Might as well get up," he sighed. He pushed himself up, and was immediately blinded - like someone had let the Sun into the room. He blinked for a few seconds, and then realized that there was dirt up to his neck! "What the..." he exclaimed, and turned around in a panic. Then he saw it. "Ah dammit," he said, as he stared at the giant stone in front of him. CLYDE BRIDGEWATER March 31 1937 - June 20 2017 Beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather "Morning sunshine," a gruff voice behind him said. Clyde spun around, faster than he'd spun in years. "If someone told me I would be this spry, I would've died years ago", Clyde thought. He saw a mountain of a man, impossibly large. He was smoking a cigar as long as a shotgun barrel. A face so grizzled it could be a skeleton, if it weren't for the tangled beard and matted black hair. He was covered in a cowl with the hood down. Clyde didn't know what to think of him, other than he would be unhappy if a man like that moved into his neigbourhood. "Old man, you look like an apple bobbing in a pile of shit. Are you gonna climb out of that hole or what?" "Well, how do I do that? They didn't dig me a staircase." The man barked a harsh laugh. "That's funny old man. You're dead. Physics don't apply to you. Just think UP" Clyde grumbled. He wasn't usually one for decorum, but this was about him. His death, his afterlife. He damn well cared about decorum. "Might as well try,", he though "just to shut this arsehole up." FWOOP! He was on the ground. The man grinned, dropped his cigar, and hitched his pants up. "Finally. Now let's go," he said, "day light's burning." "Now wait just one minute!" Clyde exclaimed, stomping a foot on the ground. It didn't make any noise, but he sank about 6 inches into it, so he felt like he'd made a point. "I'm not going anywhere until I know who you are, what you're doing here, and why I should go with you". The man shrugged. "Fine, let the Suckers get you." "The what?!?!?!" "The Suckers. They're kind of like what you humans call demons, except they're not from Hell. Hell doesn't exist. You got Heaven, which I can take you to, and you got Suckers, which you can wait around to show up. They always sense a fresh one." "And what does a Sucker do?" "It sucks away your existence. You're a soul, comprende? You've been an asshole living on this shit hole called Earth for about 3 centuries now. And you come into this world, kicking and screaming; have some good times, have some bad ones; and then one day you die and your soul comes back out. Then I come take you to Heaven and you get to do the whole thing over again in a few years. Unless a Sucker gets you." "And what if it does?" Clyde asked petulantly. "Then you're gone. Game over. Look - old man. This is not the first time we've done this. You'll remember when we get back up to Heaven. But for now, let's get rolling. I can fight a few suckers, but if a horde comes, I'm leaving you behind." "... Alright". Clyde thought UP again, and was back on the ground. The man started walking at a brisk pace. Clyde had to run to keep up. It didn't really feel like running - he didn't get sweaty, his knees didn't ache, but he was pumping his legs hard. The man looked over his shoulder and said "The name is GR by the way. You can call me G. Also, you don't have to keep peddling your legs like the Road Runner. Just think forward." Clyde tried it and found he could move faster. He was now beside G, who nodded at him. "Let's speed this up," G said, and exploded forward. "AFTER HIM," Clyde thought with all his essence, and lurched forward in the same direction. He had never moved so quickly before. It was like being a rocket, racing across the planet's surface. He zoomed past Seattle, across Washington state, through Oregon, past Nevada, Arizona, and into rural Mexico. "Fastest border crossing I've ever done," he mused as he zipped through customs. Finally, they arrived at a staircase, a staircase that went up and up. Up into the impossible. But something seemed wrong. G was at a standstill and wasn't moving up the stairs. Then he saw it. It was a swirling mass of tentacles and ooze. Hundreds and hundreds of putrid black tentacles, all feeding into one giant maw. A creature of nightmares, making a suckling sound. It didn't seem to have eyes. It didn't seem to need them. Every tentacle was pointing straight towards Clyde and G, as it slithered towards them at a breakneck speed. G unbuckled his cloak, and pulled out a massive log with a 40 inch blade attached ot it - curved and menacing. And Clyde realized who G really was. The Grim Reaper turned to Clyde and said, "start running. you don't have much time". "I understand." "MOVE!" Clyde started dashing up the staircase as the Sucker descended upon them.	2017-06-20T19:58:24	2017-06-20T19:08:10	20	11
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth".	"Ha ha, dirt," one of the aliens chuckled. The human bartender, needing the tips to survive, said nothing. "You're an idiot," his companion said. "All homeworlds are called dirt. That's what pre-galactic civs call their worlds. The fuck else are they going to call them? Some meaningless made up shit?" "Well, I come from Uthos. Named after an ancient god. Not 'dirt.'" "And what's the name of your star?" "Uthos." "You ignorant shitfuck. God, you're such an imbecile. I hate you so much right now." "What?" The first alien seemed confused. "Most cultures rename their homeworld after discovering the Union. Most often, they go with the name of their home system. So Earth will probably call itself Sol, after its people get used to the idea of a multistellar society. Like my people did. Like your people did." "Doesn't Sol just translate as Sun?" "So do most home system stars. Listen, idiot, these worlds? Their stars? They're all named pre-warp. When the savage inhabitants just know that there's the ground, the sky, and some big fuck-off light. You think they change that when they discover that there are other worlds, that their sun is a star?" "When, the Cromulites—" "The Cromulites are fucking pedantic nerds. But that's better than being an idiot who hasn't considered the nature of his premise before he feels entitled to an opinion." The first alien blinked a few times. "Take me home. I'm yours."	From their conversation, I felt the need to chip in. I knew that most Union member species had been living in space for centuries, relying on cloning vats, food pills, or high-tech hydroponics. “They eat animals, you know. Like actual, used-to-be-walking-around animals, not out of a vat. Barely even gene-modded.” The two on the other side of the bar displayed surprise in their own way. The six-limbed lizard flared out the frill around her head, and the robotically-enhanced fishman did a spit-take with the liquid he was pouring into his gills. They'd been at the bar for a while, and we'd all seen the neo-social media flurry around Earth joining the Union. “Like, do they take the animals with them? On ships?” slurred the fishman, clearly turning the idea over in his head. “I don't think I've even seen an animal. Other than, like, parasites and such. Other species still have them.” His people absorbed plankton through their skins, so the idea of consciously eating was a little odd. The reptile took another dainty sip of her cocktail with one hand, while moving the others in complex patterns. The translation device around her neck beeped out, “It's not that weird, Copper-Wire-026. You've gotta be more worldly. Do they swallow them whole like Rippers do, or is it more of a spit-acid-and-slurp-up-the-goop deal?” “Neither, man,” I said, feigning amazement, “They cut them up, and put them in fire them with plants and spices.” The lizard bared her teeth and raised the frill again, dribbling a little on the bar. Seeing her fright, I added, “The animals aren't alive at the time, though.” She quickly wiped up the mess with her napkin. “Sorry,” her device said sheepishly, “Instinctual threat response. I mean.... I mean, I'm open minded. I try to be open minded, you know? But that is fuuuuucked.” Her hands repeated the last sign a few times, stretching out the idea for emphasis. “And I hear,” I said, dropping my voice to a campfire whisper, waving my hands spookily, “That there's one in this very bar...” The lizard looked around at the otherwise-empty room, slowly, and snorted a little laugh. She raised the middle finger on three of her hands. Copper said, “Wait... whut?” Bar patrons, regardless of species, have a lot in common.	2017-09-06T09:11:47	2017-09-06T08:59:00	492	179
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch." "Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much." "She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect." "We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?" "She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells." "The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?" "We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber." "Cursed the barber?" "Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves." "Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?" "I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village." edit: formatting.	"I talk to Gods!" It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter. So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to. He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture. "I talk to Gods, Peter." "More like ghosts, William." He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things. "Like what?" "Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next." The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial." "Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-" "I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here." "I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill. "Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched. "Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want."	2017-09-14T12:11:29	2017-09-14T10:12:28	240	47
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"She's something all right." "Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to." -- As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong. "Where be the wicked witch of the well?" "Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be." By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar. However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions. What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here." A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me." She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine." "Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?" -- A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough. As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T12:51:41	2017-09-14T09:12:27	58	11
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"She's something all right." "Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to." -- As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong. "Where be the wicked witch of the well?" "Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be." By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar. However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions. What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here." A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me." She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine." "Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?" -- A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough. As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T12:51:41	2017-09-14T07:33:54	58	10
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"She's something all right." "Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to." -- As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong. "Where be the wicked witch of the well?" "Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be." By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar. However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions. What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here." A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me." She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine." "Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?" -- A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough. As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T09:53:18	2017-09-14T09:12:27	56	11
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"She's something all right." "Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to." -- As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong. "Where be the wicked witch of the well?" "Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be." By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar. However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions. What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here." A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me." She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine." "Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?" -- A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough. As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T09:53:18	2017-09-14T07:33:54	56	10
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"I talk to Gods!" It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter. So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to. He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture. "I talk to Gods, Peter." "More like ghosts, William." He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things. "Like what?" "Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next." The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial." "Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-" "I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here." "I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill. "Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched. "Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want."	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T13:40:44	2017-09-14T09:12:27	51	11
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"I talk to Gods!" It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter. So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to. He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture. "I talk to Gods, Peter." "More like ghosts, William." He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things. "Like what?" "Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next." The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial." "Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-" "I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here." "I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill. "Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched. "Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want."	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T13:40:44	2017-09-14T07:33:54	51	10
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"I talk to Gods!" It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter. So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to. He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture. "I talk to Gods, Peter." "More like ghosts, William." He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things. "Like what?" "Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next." The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial." "Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-" "I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here." "I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill. "Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched. "Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want."	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T10:12:28	2017-09-14T09:12:27	47	11
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.	"I talk to Gods!" It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter. So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to. He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture. "I talk to Gods, Peter." "More like ghosts, William." He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things. "Like what?" "Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next." The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial." "Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-" "I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here." "I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill. "Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched. "Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want."	Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son! I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days. Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried. She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand. What really sealed it was when she actually started arguing with Lord Falcon during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away. I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly hated Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain. Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though. So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.	2017-09-14T10:12:28	2017-09-14T07:33:54	47	10
[WP] You are the main character of a 24/7 reality show. It is the most popular show on TV because of a complex gambling market around it. More money is wagered on regular activities like what you will eat for breakfast than the outcome of the Super Bowl.	I strolled lazily towards the dining table. I was already accustomed to the numerous cameras placed around the house. As I sat down for breakfast, I could see the numerous faces pressed against the windows and peering right in. I groaned in disgust as I took out my phone to check the horde of messages that had been disrupting my sleep since 5 in the morning. I felt like a fucking zoo animal as the eyes outside were fixated on me, never wavering. Fucking feeding time for the chimpanzees at the zoo huh? I sighed as I scrolled through my phone. The usual offers. "James, $100,000 for you to pick the Honey Stars!" "James, $200,000 for Captain Crunch!" "$600,000 for a peanut butter sandwich!" "$900,000 for exactly 3 peanut butter sandwiches!" Were those idiots aware of how much I was being paid? I smirked and shook my head as I deleted the messages one by one. I was being paid almost a million dollars per episode and there was no way I was going to risk my easy payday on participating in rigging their bets. I caught the pleading eyes of the producer, Dwayne Howlett, trying to catch my attention. My eyes opened wide in amazement as I saw his message. "How about 10m to eat the Caesar Salad?" Eew, fuck! I detested salads and they knew it. The last I checked, the odds for it were an astonishing 1:5000 and that was for dinner! I shuddered to imagine what the odds might be like for breakfast. I hated salads but I detested Dwayne even more. Fucking douchebag. I would pay that amount to clobber his head in with a steel pipe. I knew he was in deep with the sharks and a plan quickly formed in my mind as I fiddled with my phone, seemingly contemplating his offer. I grinned and nodded my head in his direction as I stretched my hand over the salad bowl. I was barely holding back my laughter as I watched him frantically typing on his phone, presumably pouring what must have been left of his life savings into the bet. He excitedly shot me back a thumbs up seconds later before I snatched at the peanut butter sandwich, stuffing it into my mouth to the thundering cheers coming from outside the house. I glared at Dwayne before shooting him a mocking smile as the truth dawned on him, turning his face pale. That peanut butter sandwich was delicious. But so was sweet revenge, served stone cold. Edit: grammar and some terrible typos	Loiterers packed the narrow hallway full, making it almost impossible for Max to get by. He managed to squeeze through a small group of people crowding the hall, each of them holding stacks of green paper. He looked down when he passed a young lady and her child, mascara streaking down her face. The hallway was loud— louder than the kitchen at Max worked in, every person chatting, yelling, and crying until a wall of incomprehensible noise pushed against Max’ ears. He kept pushing through. Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, a closed oak door with a paper sign taped to the front: “Betting Room J”. Max had always had better luck in Room J than the other eleven rooms, and he opened the door with confidence. Several people— mostly balding old men— turned to look at him. The manager of Betting Room J, overseeing the place behind a large oak desk, recognized him. “Hey, Max! Here to win some more?” Max grabbed his usual chair and turned to look at the flatscreen. The Susan Show, the world’s #1 TV show for sixteen long years, was playing, like always. Susie, America’s favorite teenager, was currently driving to school in her brand-new Cadillac, and about to pull into the parking lot. “Seventy on fruit snacks,” a man in the room called out. “Eighty-five on trail mix,” another said. “I’ll put fifty on the Cheetos,” Max called. The manager nodded his head. “Anyone else?” The room was silent. The camera followed Susie as she got out of the car and entered the east side of her high school. Susie entered the main hall, walked to the vending machine, and paused. Silence. She slipped in one quarter. Two. Three. Four. She typed in two numbers to the machine. B-6. Groans filled the room as Susie walked away with a bag of Cheetos in her hands. “Gentlemen?” the manager asked. The two men came up and paid their dues, Max on their heels. “Bit of a winning streak this week, eh, Maxie?” the manager said as he handed Max a fifty. “I suppose,” Max replied, as he walked out the door. He shoved his way through the hallway again, sure to keep his fifties clenched tight in his hand. The air outside the warehouse was cold. A woman and her child sat on the curb, all bundled in tight jackets. Max could see the mascara dry on her cheeks. Max clenched the fifties tight in his hand, and slowly walked over to her. “Hey,” Max began. “Get out of here,” she replied. “Listen, this place is a shithole-” “Yeah? Then why are you here?” Max sighed. “I’m addicted. I need to stop. But I get the feeling you don’t have anywhere else to go.” “That’s none of your business.” “I know.” Max sat on the curb. “I can’t get away. I’ll bet, if you got the money you needed, you could.” The woman paused, her breath shown in the cold November air. “Yeah. Maybe.” “I think so.” Max held out his money: two sleek fifty dollar bills. “Here.” “I don’t need that.” “I have enough.” Max grabbed a stone from the street and placed it over the two fifties on the ground. He looked back as he was walking away; just enough to see the woman take the cash. Perhaps, Max thought, she wouldn’t come back. Perhaps she would find some other way to get the coin she needs for her family. Perhaps he saved her from The Susan Show. Perhaps.	2017-12-19T19:41:30	2017-12-19T17:48:09	41	12
[WP] You are the king, after your daughter was kidnapped by a dragon you offered the standard reward to whoever rescued her. You weren't expecting a different dragon to rescue her. Wow! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you all so much for all your stories. I haven't commented on all of them but they are all fantastic!	The King looked pale and unkempt when he stepped onto the balcony, mouth trembling as he read his latest edict to the people filling the town square below. His normally trim beard had gone shaggy, his brow was lined and eyes bloodshot. Royal messengers read out the words along with him on raised platforms across the square and throughout the land, to ensure all heard his promise. "I, King Darius the VII, hereby raise the reward from five thousand Rin to ten thousand. Any man, woman or child who brings me word of my daughter's location, or that of the dragon that ripped her from our home, will be awarded equally, without question or delay in payment...." The gathered people clucked and muttered in sympathy, the same story spreading in hushed, frightened whispers as they looked warily upon the king. Such ill luck was unnatural, the meek thought to themselves. The bold said it outright, though not where the royal guards could hear them. "The second child to be taken this year - bad luck it is, won't be any royals left before long..." The King ignored the mutters, turning his back on his people once the speech was done. He knew what they must be thinking, but he did not care. He would trade his very crown to have Katerina back at his side, his own life if Arwen was returned, too. They were all he had left. How fortunate that Marina was long dead and buried, unable to witness the death of their family. In the deepest corner of his heart, he knew how futile it was to hope. The dragons fed on the royal line, and had done so for eons past. But in times past it had been one every handful of decades, not this frenzy of feeding...history told him it had last been this bloody in the time of King Salacor, too many years ago to count... He opened his chambers absentmindedly, and it took him a few seconds to see the dragon. Its glittering hide was the same deep shade of purple-black as the curtains. It was a very young one, to be so small, scarcely bigger than a house cat. But even young dragons breathed death. Darius strangled a cry of fear as it left its perch on the window, and came to land gracefully in from of him, spiked tail lashing around its claws. I shall go to your daughter. Curse and blessing, he understood. Their bloodline had always been able to hear the creatures' thoughts, insult upon injury. He curled his hands into fists and forgot himself, reaching for his sword. None of that, the creatures growled, opening its mouth to reveal wickedly sharp fangs, fey green eyes spinning lazily. Darius felt an odd pang at the sight - his young son's eyes had been almost the same shade, the painters had despaired at capturing the colour for his first portrait. "You will return my child? A dragon?" he spat. He thought about calling for the guards, but something in the beast's eyes gave him pause. "I will find her. I promise you this," it said, dipping its head in an approximation of a bow. "Where did you come from?" Darius whispered, desperate for the truth. It was a question they had no answers to, no matter how many adventurers braved their lives to find the secret - where were the dragons born, what caused the blight upon their lands? The dragon, typically, didn't deign to answer. Without another word, it whipped around and spread its small wings, taking flight again. "Wait! Please, I beg you!" Darius screamed, but it winked from view so quickly, he thought he had dreamt the encounter. ----------- He had always known where the girl would be. She was weeping quietly in the corner of Salacen's cave. The old dragon watched her with keen interest, trying to coax her into conversation. How old are you, child? How long have you been able to hear my thoughts? Your mind woke early, I can telll...you are strong... She didn't answer, clinging onto her defiance, but hiding her face from those spinning blue eyes that demanded the truth. Salacen snuffed deeply, and leaned forward to better catch her scent, when another entered his cave. He hissed at the young dragon. "Be gone, Arawan. I wish to do it." "She is mine, not yours." The little dragon stood his ground even as his elder towered over him, dwarfing him. "I wish to explain to her. I wish to explain to him," Arawan said. Salecan snorted smoke, his tail lashing dangerously. Katerina whimpered in the corner, trying to make herself smaller. "That is not how we do it," the elder snarled, stamping to prove his point. Arawan took his chance, ducking nimbly to the girl's side and sinking his teeth into her shoulder, injecting her with a strong dose of dragon venom. She screamed even as she heard his thoughts, clearer than ever in her mind. She blinked groggily and saw the sympathy in those green eyes, eyes that reminded her of another... You will understand soon, I promise. "You had no right!" Salacen screeched as the girl slumped to the ground. He was quite prepared to rip the little whelp apart for the theft. "I had every right. She is my kin," Arawen said, and ducked the enraged drake's jaws. He turned and fled, certain that Katerina would be safe. She was his kin too, after all. ---------- He had finally gone mad, the King knew. He had awoken at a cold breeze blowing from the open window. Before him stood not one, but two small dragons. I found her. She is safe, the purple one said, eyes spinning in satisfaction. The golden one hid behind the other's legs, and seemed to look at him shyly. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?" he said hoarsely, rubbing at his eyes. Hallucinations, that might be all that they were. Cruel sights to tear the last of his mind apart. We will come for you soon. "Stop taunting me with your threats," he said, when the golden one darted forward and pressed its snout against his cheek. He gasped at the scent that enveloped him, the sight of her glittering green eyes. You will understand soon. We promise. But choose your successor, King Darius. Your kingdom will need it, he heard the female voice say. The dragons took wing while he stood motionless, trying to decipher the words. It had sounded like a threat, but the smell lingered in the room. Flowers of the mountain, the scent of his daughter. King Darius smiled to himself even as guards cried out below his room at the sight of the dragons in the sky. He smiled, though he did not know why, and looked at the sky with sudden yearning. It was a splendid night for flying. ------- Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.	The tattered banners fluttered, shredding the cast light of the torches by their excited flaps. I could still see the claw marks that scarred the crenellations of what were once secure battlements. My warriors clasped their pole-arms and crossbows tightly, hoping that such insignificant weapons were not needed tonight. I tried to project as much regal bearing as possible, but the sleepless nights of worry had worn me down to a nub. I barely felt like I was in charge anymore. A messenger had approached the city this morn. A crafted note had passed through secure hands to be read by my guard-captain, who carefully recited it as I slumped in my throne. "Your daughter is safe. She shall be borne by air to the scene of her capture on the dusk of this message's deliverance. Please be ready to receive her." The guard-captain had remarked that my countenance had dramatically changed with that message. A thousand weights had been removed from my brow. It was true that I had experienced joy upon receiving that message. But I was not, if anything a man of practical purpose and shrewd measure. I set my information network into motion to find out who had abducted my daughter from me. I instructed my men to secure the city against any suspicious activity. The morning melted into the afternoon quickly. I had fanned my informants as far as they could go, sorting through the underworld for clues and the nearby villages and homesteads dotting my land for any unwelcome strangers or strange sightings. My guards had rounded up the unsavory and suspect, gathering them into the dungeons below the castle and prisons scattered across the city. I had spent a considerable amount of time with my advisors and with volumes of intelligence, scattering such documents across the expanse of my throne room as we made our most calculated attempts at discerning who could possibly be my daughter's savior. With the grains of sand winding down and the sun starting to dip, I made the choice to ascend to the highest tower of my castle, where my daughter's chambers were. Surrounded by my personal retinue and guarded from the parapets by trained eyes with sharp and deadly projectiles, I stood above her personal room on top of the very tower where the dragon had stolen her from my protection. I waited, staring into the oncoming dusk, peering out for any sign. As the final slivers of day receded a fluttering burst of wind that nearly doused the torches and buffeted our crouched forms battered us. Thinking we were under attack from the dragon once again, I was about to bellow for arrows to launch. "Father, steady yourself!" I heard as I clearly recognized my own progeny. Pulling up, I saw standing on the parapets my daughter, her blue eyes piercing and her long hair unkempt. She appeared unharmed. "Daughter," I started. "You are alive." A thin smile wove onto her face. "Yes. I return alive and unharmed." I sighed, straightening out my robes as I began to approach with my guards. "My child, come down. It is far too dangerous for you to stay here. We will take you-" "No." The flat refusal stopped me. I palmed for my guards to stop as well. I stared at her face, into her eyes and her grim visage. "No?" I echoed, perplexed by her tone. "Surely you understand that you are in danger standing there?" That thin smile returned. "Yes, father. I am in danger while I'm here." I didn't understand what she mean, and she see that confusion cross my face. "You know why I was stolen away from here," she stated more than questioned. That of course was an answer I understood. This was a world of darkness. The shadows held many threats. There were creatures of untold cruelty that lurked on the edges of civilization, waiting to topple the homes and bastions of man. There were even threats from within. A sickness that infested the walls of even a proud city as mine. I made sure such dangers and illnesses were properly watched and, if needed, eliminated. Destroy the threats before they decided to come after me or the things that I treasured most. I thought a tower with locked bars and high fastness was the perfect place to secure my most invaluable possession in the world. A treasure that had such value that my enemies would do anything to harm or steal from me. Even send the greatest of barbaric beasts to advance their designs and schemes against me. "Who was it who summoned the dragon to take you?" I asked. "Who was it who saved you?" She looked at me, her eyes going soft. "It doesn't matter, really. There are probably countless people who, if they could, send that dragon if they had the chance." I grew frustrated with her coy game. I motioned for my men to slowly approach. "Daughter, enough of this foolishness. Come down and tell me who was it." "Who did what?" she asked, her eyes regaining their daggers. "Who did it," I growled as my patience was at its end. I almost motioned for my guards to just grab her and drag her deep into the bowels of the castle, to ensure she would never be taken away again. "I know what you do to those who ever lay eyes on me that you don't trust." she remarked. Now it all came into focus. A memory of her 'rewarded' saviors and suitors over the years flashed before me. Blood and knives and dripping ichor and torture chambers flashed before my mind's eye. I yelled, reaching my arm out to grab for her. She was only a few paces away. A stronger buffet ofwind crested the tower top, and this time, I couldn't hold my ground. The world spun as soldiers cried in panic and a guttural growl enveloped the clanging of armored bodies hitting stone and I landed face down. I clambered to a kneeling position, looked up, and froze. My daughter clasped the neck of a frightly winged beast, a scaled horror of children's nightmares and crazed madmen ramblings. Its huge head was crowned with curved horns and teeth to slice through a man's limbs with ease. The eyes were intelligent, and focused on me as its body rested on the parapets. "This is my savior!" screamed my daughter between the flaps of its colossal wings. "She slew the beast of another! One who hates you! And the tyrant you are!" I pitifully reached out. Everything was slowly slipping away. My entire focus was on her as she climbed onto the beast's back. My treasure. My treasure was leaving me. The memories came sharply in that instant. The decadent baron, my wife swollen with life. Their knowing smile and secret tryst. The reign of death I carved on the land to express my grief on those who sided against me in the civil war that followed. The cheating harlot and her puppet that hung from the gallows. The babe cut from her dead womb, still alive. The tower that ensured no one would touch this child. The one reminder of what I existed for, and the lengths to which I would protect that existence. She looked back at me, her eyes locking onto mine. She mouthed something, perhaps a goodbye, but my delirious mind could not comprehend it as one more blast of air buffeted the tower, and my one sole possession I cared about in this world plunged into the darkness above. I reached as high as I could from my fetal position into the sky. I could barely hear the din of my men as they righted me and escorted me back into the castle. It didn't matter. They didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting her back. No matter what.	2018-02-23T09:26:46	2018-02-23T09:14:01	133	23
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users. Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone —- Wow front page! That’s actually amazing	The cultist, wearing a trench coat and smoking a cigar, with a Colt pistol holstered in his pocket, raised his hands, chanting some indecipherable phrases, as a creature from beyond the comprehendible portions of reality dragged itself into our dimension. The conditions were right, the sacrifices were made, and the world would be over as soon as the Great Chained God was summoned. Right as the casting was about to finish, however, a teenager wearing glasses, a t-shirt featuring a hooded man with glowing blue eyes, and some athletic shorts slammed a card down onto the folding table he carried around for just such an occasion, putting another card face-up next to his deck and wincing as a small cut opened up on his torso. “I cast Force of Will, targeting your summoning spell. It’s countered.” The Eldritch horror screamed with the force of a trillion upset toddlers as it returned to its own twisted home. The cultist pulled out his pistol, preparing to shoot the man who’d just ruined his plans, but he just sat there and smiled as the gun couldn’t seem to point in the right direction. “Leyline of Sanctity. If I start with it in my opening hand, I can put it down straight away- which I did, so you can’t target me because I’m hexproof. Anyway, it’s your turn. On your draw step, you don’t seem to have a library to draw from, so I guess you lose this game?” The cultist gasped for air as his life faded, confused and terrified that this child could have defeated him so easily, after months of planning, reading those damnable tomes and giving up his own mind just to bring this world to an end, and a new world in, with him at the head... As the trench coat wearing man slumped to the floor, bleeding out of his ears and eyes, the teenager stood up annoyedly, “This match was supposed to be best two out of three! Why does this keep happening every time I win game 1?”	This was...a mistake. That was all Carry could think of as she clutched her Nimbus 2000 in one hand and a twelve inch hawthorn, dragon heart string wand in the other. She, loved Harry Potter, so to her, this was magic, and her rapid wand waving won her many duels, especially against Call of Cthullu fans, but she had never encountered anyone who was a fan of Overlord. Well. To be entirely honest Collin was a man that loved his Dungeons and Dragons, and his Overlord, but he preferred the latter. He was embossed with an enormous pool of mana, and...it really was no contest. His last bout had ended with him dropping a meteor on his last opponent, and hers had ended with a full body paralysis. "Three! Two! One! Start!" "Sectum Sem-" The world stopped turning. Time did not slow, it simply ceased its flow, and Collin walked towards his opponent. The championship round, and well, he had no qualms with a bit of overkill. As she stood frozen, words sealed in her lips, the announcers signal fired, the crowds paused mid cheer, he lifted his face, and leaned in towards her ear, and whispered one word. Something primal, something that warped the very soul of magic itself to generate a singular effect. *Kill.* The word spoken was generated by magic itself, and it passed his own lips in a language only those that traded their minds to the great old ones could understand. She could not hear the word as time was stopped. The effect was delayed to occur as soon as time began its march once more, and he held out his hands as though to embrace her. "-p...ra..." The magic could not launch from her wand, as it fell instantly from her grasp along with her broom. There was no cause of death. None detectable at least, she simply ceased to live, and her tools fell from nerveless fingers, and he caught her as she collapsed. Gently laying her, her eyes still wide, but glassy, on the ground. The fight was over before it could begin. A scene pulled straight from his very favorite series of books and games. Was it fair? No. Was it particularly original? He supposed not, but it was effective. "Uh...ladies and gentlemen...the...the winner is the second challenger...someone send for the...clerics? We have a winner! A winner everyone!" There were cheers. Confused, even afraid, as the man vanished, to give his guild the coin to continue slaying dragons and hunting down dungeons. Satisfied, as he had pulled off one of his most favorite scenes. Edit: A word Edit 2: For those with their interest piqued about the story beat the character follows or the magic system (the two are nearly identical), check out DnD or Overlord (Light Novels are my preferred, though there are other sources!)	2018-10-15T23:09:43	2018-10-15T22:55:54	42	14
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users. Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone —- Wow front page! That’s actually amazing	The two figures stood in the street. One, a man covered in a flowing black robe, face obscured by a blank silver mask, raised his hand above his head, pointing a wand at the opposing figure. Opposite him, merely metres away in the twilight night, his foe simply raised her hands, slowly forming runes in the air, body enshrouded in a strange silk tunic that seemed to flow over her. The tension was palpable, both ready to kill, but neither wanting to make the first move. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man struck. "Avada Kedavra!" A bolt of green shined in the night, flying at the woman, who merely sidestepped, and faster than the eye could trace, moved her hands in a unicursal hexagram, screaming a word in an unknown tongue. A blast of enemy soared at the cloaked man, who waved his wand before him, a shield blocking the blast. The two traded more and more blows, energy showering the area in flashes of light, and sometimes even darkness. Well... A deeper darkness. The noise was incredible, and as the two became more heated, the air began to shimmer with magic, the thundering boom of violent energy becoming constant as they became faster and faster. Until a sonic boom blasted both apart, a flash of lightning lancing the floor beneath them. To the side of the figures, a house door opened, and out strolled a young man, dressed in nothing but pajama trousers, and a furious expression etched onto his face. "ENOUGH! Some of us are trying to sleep you try-hard, baby-bitch magic fuckwits!" The character's voice was... Just like any other. No power or thunder behind it. The woman smirked. "This is magical business, it does not concern you child!" At the sound of the word child, a stroke.of thunder boomed across the sky. "Boy? BOY?! I am the most powerful magician here you two-time little pixie prick!" The world shined for a second, and suddenly, it was day. "How did you...?" The woman's face suddenly changed, magic of this magnitude should not be possible! Before she could say anything more, a bacon sandwhich appeared in the man's hand. At which point her original opponent piped up. "Wait, you can't make food using magic, that violates Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration!" Though his face was covered, his shock was evident in his voice. The young man simply finished chewing his bite, raising an eyebrow as he did. Upon finishing, he spoke. "Mate, it's magic. It has no rules. Honestly, all of you are out here with your own rules and shit as if magic makes sense. It doesn't. It's fucking magic. Now. Again. Fuck off." With that, the day turned back to night, and the man and woman found themselves... They didn't know where. They cried out in shock as their minds tried to comprehend that wherever they were, physics worked differently. It was impossible for their minds to comprehend. After all, they weren't supposed to enter other dimensions. And back at the little English street, the boy simply entered his house again, his half eaten sandwich disappearing into nothingness. He closed the door with a muttering about "Bellends. It's magic. There are no rules..." And made his way to bed, pausing time as he did. He would sleep uninterrupted this time. It's not like he needed to sleep. This was just his favourite thing to do.	woop, posted to a response, instead of post... Repost. "The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning." The light of the moon cast strange shadows Down the steps of a large gothic mansion. One shadow slithered it's way to the grey sedan in the driveway, snapping his robes with a flick of his wrist as he sat in the drivers seat, a sense of urgency was in the air. The soft squeal of rubber gave confirmation. "I don't understand, why am I being called to stop someone from yelling? "Not yelling, shouting. He yells incoherently and shit flies across the bloody room!" "I still don't get how this is The Black Tower's problem. And before you ask, yes I'm already on my way. I was hoping this was going to be a little more exiting." "Thank you, Saemal. Who knows, maybe it will turn. Out to be fun?" * * * "That's the point smart one! By the nine, it's not that hard. You worship dragons. I kill dragons. I kill you. Now stand still and let me cut you!" The hulking brute of a man, wearing nothing but a bullet proof vest and pants, lunged with his sword. There was a shriek, as a much smaller man was gored through the chest. If it were not for the drains, the kitchen floor would have been slick with blood. The scattered pots and pans and half cooked meals made for a chaotic scene. The brute walked through the double doors and into the dinning room. He noticed a man in black robes at the entrance. * * * Saemal saw the brute first, and immidiatly regreted coming. This man was big enough to cause this havoc with out magic. I ought to just leave this for the civilian police. He was caught off guard by the wave of blue light coming for him. It hit him before he could react. As he landed on his back he heard it: FUS! ROH DAH! Like a thunder clap after silence, his ears rang as he stood up, dazed, only to be shoulder checked by the charging brute. Laying on his back, he came to. A soft light appeared around him, and he fell through a hole in the floor. * * * The brute looked in awe at the place where the man had been. He knew of The Black Tower, but had never faced an Aes Sedai. This was going to be interesting. He could feel his own stamina returning after the shout. Where did he go? * * * Dropping from the ceiling behind the brute, Saemal released a storm of fireballs, channeling Saidin through the cuff on his wrist. WULD! NAH KEST! Saemal tried to understand why he was airborne, on a collision course with the wall behind him. Again he wondered if he should have stayed home. For different reasons now. A hole appeared on the wall, and shrank to nothing after he passed through. "Sneaking through these holes will only work for so long, witch!" "Oh we are quit done here", he said, sounding bored. Purple light erupted from his outstreched palm, forming a beam of soundless energy, headed straight for the brute. FIEM! As the beam passed through the brute, he turned a pale blue, and ran to the side, the beam chasing him to the far wall before fizzling out. "Bloody ashes! What are you?" "I am Dovakiin, dragonborn." FUS ROH DAH! The brute smiled as his thu'um traveled across the room. The smile faded when he saw a reflection of himself appear in front of the man. Except he was looking at his back... He turned just in time to get hit in the face with his own shout. He landed hard. He felt his arms being tugged, and the soft linen of robes, then the cold metal of the witch's shackles. * * * -- This is my first post in here, sorry if formating get screwed, I'm.on Mobil. I'll try and fix it in the morning before work if it's bad.	2018-10-16T02:17:50	2018-10-16T00:41:38	27	13
[WP] All work centers are mandated to install " Efficiency Microchips" into their employees. The microchip makes the host blackout during their shift and come back into control after work is over, with no recollection of their day. Your microchip just malfunctioned. Edit: Holy crap 5.2k upvotes and we made the front page?! You guys and gals are awesome, I love reading all the shorts. Keep up the good work! Edit 2: I've never made the front page before and I see we're at 9.2k upvotes. Really made my day people. Keep writing awesome stories! Love seeing everyone's creativity!	The office conditions became so dreary that they invented a chip for all office workers. "Voluntary" to get installed of course but everyone went along with it, some running. Of course I did as well. I don't hate my work but I figured I don't love the office so much so what the heck, losing 8-9 hours a day would be no big deal. Also I would have only the fun bits of life left to me. It started nice. The chip would activate only near my cubicle after a slight warning jolt to notify its status. So I knew when I was going "offline". After a long shift of nothing, I came back home, rested a bit, played games, chatted with family and friends then off to bed I went for the next day. The thing is, without a work day to talk about I didn't have much to talk and boy the evenings are short. 5-6 hours then sleep and I'm not tired at all so no way I said. I stayed up until the early mornings and let the future drone me handle it. Handle it, it did well. Some days I never slept and went to work after an all nighter, most with 1-2 hours of sleep out of slight fear that I may eventually burn myself out unknowingly. This went on for a year I think. I don't remember that far back, because I've never been home for the last 20 years. The chip malfunctioned, I think, and I wake up everyday at the office. The chip jolts my brain if I leave the office premises or "offlines" me. I went to several doctors, I am not sure, I took appointments and look like I went to them but I don't remember. I called them and they said they've seen no problems with me. I called my wife but she is somehow happier with me in general and sounds more lively on the phone. I asked for help and they told me to stop goofing around. I have photos from family activities and birthdays I've never been to. I want to go home. Edit: Thanks for the kind words everyone. Manly hugs to you all.	"Joke, to start with, 'cause once they plant the cut-out chip, it seems like free money. Wake up sore, sometimes, but that’s it. Renting the goods, is all. You aren’t in, when it’s all happening. House has software for whatever a customer wants to pay for . . ." She cracked her knuckles. "Fine. I was getting my money. Trouble was, the cut-out and the circuitry the Chiba clinics put in weren’t compatible. So the worktime started bleeding in, and I could remember it . . . But it was just bad dreams, and not all bad." She smiled. "Then it started getting strange." She pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "The house found out what I was doing with the money. I had the blades in, but the fine neuromotor work would take another three trips. No way I was ready to give up puppet time." She inhaled, blew out a stream of smoke, capping it with three perfect rings. "So the bastard who ran the place, he had some custom software cooked up. Berlin, that’s the place for snuff, you know? Big market for mean kicks, Berlin. I never knew who wrote the program they switched me to, but it was based on all the classics." "They knew you were picking up on this stuff? That you were conscious while you were working?" "I wasn’t conscious. It’s like cyberspace, but blank. Silver. It smells like rain . . . You can see yourself orgasm, it’s like a little nova right out on the rim of space. But I was starting to remember. Like dreams, you know. And they didn’t tell me. They switched the software and started renting to specialty markets." She seemed to speak from a distance. "And I knew, but I kept quiet about it. I needed the money. The dreams got worse and worse, and I’d tell myself that at least some of them were just dreams, but by then I’d started to figure that the boss had a whole little clientele going for me. Nothing’s too good for Molly, the boss says, and gives me this shit raise." She shook her head. "That prick was charging eight times what he was paying me, and he thought I didn’t know." "So what was he charging for?" "Bad dreams. Real ones. One night . . . one night, I’d just come back from Chiba." She dropped the cigarette, ground it out with her heel, and sat down, leaning against the wall. "Surgeons went way in, that trip. Tricky. They must have disturbed the cut-out chip. I came up. I was into this routine with a customer . . ." She dug her fingers deep in the foam. "Senator, he was. Knew his fat face right away. We were both covered with blood. We weren’t alone. She was all . . . " She tugged at the temperfoam. "Dead. And that fat prick, he was saying, 'What’s wrong. What’s wrong?’ 'Cause we weren’t finished yet . . ." She began to shake. "So I guess I gave the Senator what he really wanted, you know?" The shaking stopped.	2018-11-19T04:29:41	2018-11-19T01:57:16	1,091	57
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal.	I've always loved our little games. She tries to kill me, and in turn I do the most romantic things i can for her. I can tell shes starting to break, starting to doubt. Last night after another poisoned wine on the patio, we had passionate sex on the grass under the stars. I can tell the guilt is starting to get to her. . This is the game I play. I try to pick the most beautiful, broken, vile women I can find and I do my utmost to make them a beautiful flower before they go. I'm in love with them and in love with the process. You see, immortality has made me quite the psychologist and given me quite the eye for value. I never pick utter psychopaths, just the ones that feel so broken by men, by the world, by their parents that they feel they have to do anything to get ahead. . I like to show them that the world can be a gentle place, and in turn, that drive transformed into love makes for a wonderful motherly instinct. Sometimes I like to think to myself that I'm returning these women to god himself, since I wont ever get to meet him at least I'm sending along a token of my thanks for letting me live so long.	She shone brightly, like the sun. Giving me warmth and great comfort. And yet I knew, I knew I was not what she wanted. But still like a moth to a flame I am drawn. This was her 23rd attempt. She is puzzled. Yet, I pray, I pray she sees it my way. I have lived long, far far longer than many other beings. This was a selfish move but who can blame me? Not many things can move me, I will never let this flame die. "Good morning dear" I rose, much to her dismay. She let out a brittle smile. " Go..od morning hubby..." It was clear she was confused. The drugs she pumped into me yesterday was enough to down an elephant. Even in her dismay she was beautiful. I was....am obsessed. I will never let her go. I met her in Louisiana grand park, built in the 1900s, and watched as development changed much of the surroundings. But the trees here were not felled, and stood as old as I was. I often come here to ponder my gift, my curse, my existence. Then I saw her, reminding me of my first flame. Her radiant smile and kind attitude drew me in at first, and I approached her. She was blushing, for it did not dawn on her that a man such as I would approach someone like her. She thought that I did not notice, her trying to portray her views of me and the park in her sketchbook. She apologized profusely and gave me a shy smile. She said I looked pristine, like part of the old world. I smiled. For she was more right on that day than she would ever be. But years past, and she discovered my wealth. She picked up certain negative... Qualities and wanted.. no needed what I accumulated over the years. The material things mattered little to me, but she yearned for it. Just like how I yearn for her past. I smiled back " Should I prepare breakfast as usual?" She replied " S..sure.... Thank you dear" As I exit the master bedroom, I could hear her tears. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps frustration. I am certain my pain was nothing compared to hers. And I am loving every moment.	2019-07-31T06:59:27	2019-07-31T06:58:55	316	169
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal.	I've always loved our little games. She tries to kill me, and in turn I do the most romantic things i can for her. I can tell shes starting to break, starting to doubt. Last night after another poisoned wine on the patio, we had passionate sex on the grass under the stars. I can tell the guilt is starting to get to her. . This is the game I play. I try to pick the most beautiful, broken, vile women I can find and I do my utmost to make them a beautiful flower before they go. I'm in love with them and in love with the process. You see, immortality has made me quite the psychologist and given me quite the eye for value. I never pick utter psychopaths, just the ones that feel so broken by men, by the world, by their parents that they feel they have to do anything to get ahead. . I like to show them that the world can be a gentle place, and in turn, that drive transformed into love makes for a wonderful motherly instinct. Sometimes I like to think to myself that I'm returning these women to god himself, since I wont ever get to meet him at least I'm sending along a token of my thanks for letting me live so long.	Well, this should be interesting. I knew she’d been building up to this for months and tonight it finally happened. When I stepped away from dinner for a minute I saw her slip something into my drink. God knows what it was, but I'm convinced it has a lethal kick, otherwise why would she bother. The question is, has she done this before and I haven't noticed? If that's the case, there must be enough in there right now to kill a rhino -- god, I can't wait to see the look on her face when I breeze through the rest of dinner and into the evening completely and totally unscathed. Maybe what I'm doing is mean or cruel, I don't know. Either way, this woman just tried to kill me, and maybe not for the first time; surely that relieves me of some of this stress I'm feeling for not being completely honest with her. I assume she's after my money. After all, how many 24 year old girls seek out a 54 year old man in a club? Better still, how many seek them out and then proceed to hang off their every word, even when topics like the stock market and pharmaceuticals arise? I guess I fell for it, so it's not like I don't deserve this. Still, I can't help but feel as though she got the best of me here, and I didn't become a billionaire several times over just to lose half of it after a few sips of that cheap red wine she likes to push on me. The more I think about this, the more it bugs me. I may not act on this impulse anytime soon, but an idea just occurred to me and I feel I should at least let it stretch its legs a bit. I'm immortal, she is not. What if we were both involved in a tragic accident -- one where she dies and I, through an act of god -- at least that's how everyone would see it -- survive? A helicopter crash, a car accident, a carbon monoxide leak in our home. Yes, any one of those would be fatal to her but not to me. In any event, I'm currently not looking to act on this. Let's just see how the evening unfolds when she discovers not even a glass full of poison can make me blink.	2019-07-31T06:59:27	2019-07-31T04:32:10	316	156
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy.	"Run the data again." Dr'tll demanded. "We've run it 12 times in the past mini-cycle, sir." M'tan, the young scientist leaves turned grey with fear. "There is no mistake." "There HAS TO BE!" Dr'tll's fist slammed into the monitor, shattering it and sending green chlorophyll blood flying from his fist. "The Milky Way is a class six death zone. Earth is a CLASS TWELVE DEATH WORLD. They can't possibly be alive!" "Not only are they alive....they've thrived." Me'dem Knios, the matriarch of the research station appeared. "Jumping from steam weapons to electricity, then to nuclear power before finally harnessing starfuel and dark matter in only three centuries? We underestimated their intelligence. They are coming to wreak a terrible, bloody vengeance upon us, to bathe the star-ways n blood for our sins." &#x200B; The ship landed, and the first humans climbed out. "Ugh. FTL travel gives the meanest jet lag" Corporal Jamal Huang joked. He looked around. This world didn't seem to use that much metal. Crystals and plantlife mostly. Bio-technology. Only the ships were made of something he could compare to Earth metals but they seemed alive as well. At his side, the other inhabitants of the spaceship slowly gathered around, ready to make first contact. An envoy approached him. Jamal had seen a lot in his travels through the Milky Way, but the first beings he'd met in here on Kallos in the Andromeda Galaxy disturbed him. They were like....what was that monster from the old stories? Ents. Tree people, but with flesh grafted on random areas. Humans who looked like trees.....trees that walked like men? Small bugs scurried across their clothes, which seemed to be made of spun spider-webs and crystal. His stomach turned instinctively, the old human fear of the uncanny welling up, but centuries of exposure to the cosmos fought it back down. "Hi. Nice to meet you." Jamal gave a warm smile and stuck his hand out. "I'm Corporal Jamal Huang of the Milky Way Alliance and-" Whatever he was to say next will be lost forever as all five of the natives bowed before him, kneeling and crying, a sound that tore at his ears and ripped at his soul. "We, the Entradi, do formally surrender to the humans." The biggest one spoke, translators thankfully making her message understand. "We apologize for the graphic crime of sentencing you to the Death Zone and will accept whatever punishment you see fit!" Jamal stared at them, then looked back at his crew. No, they were equally lost. "What the HELL are you on about?" he finally asked. And that's when the story truly begins....	Sensor Post Omega was a small station situated on a rim system, the kind where rookies were sent to learn the ropes and where veterans went to retire. Nobody stationed there really knew what they were supposed to be looking for, but since they always had new tech and the best internet connection in the known universe, the crew never really questioned it. They were a motley bunch, Eldar and Tenno and even a lone Vulcan, but they learned to trust each other, and eventually become friends. They held monthly drills, but there was always one that they never understood. Upon detecting some sort of primitive object exit galaxy WG-42, they were supposed to send a certain distress signal and then hunker down. What the primitive object was was never mentioned in their briefing notes, nor did any rumours conclusively answer. One day, however, it came into use. Alarms blared through the sensor station, and the collected crew looked on in wonder as they saw a strange procession of interstellar vehicles exit the galaxy, and head towards the galaxy EG-138. The crew looked at each other, and then immediately sent out the distress signal. Though they didn’t know what they were, if there was this many protocols and warnings, then it would definitely be important. &#x200B; Groggy representatives and diplomats logged onto the video chambers, most of them cursing the early hours the call was sent out. Due to the vast distances involved in intergalactic travel, physically attending meetings was unfeasible, thus diplomatic call centres was established. As the forum quieted, the chief of Intergalactic Protection walked onto a stage. Every single member immediately became sober and alert. If the head of Intergalactic Protection was making this call, then there was a serious issue at hand. All their fears was confirmed when the Tau tactician said, “The Humans have left their galaxy.” Chaos reigned, with some diplomats yelling obscenities while others curled up and called for their mothers. The whole of the Galactic Council was thunderstruck, and until the elected leader of the Forum finally called for decorum. There was still small whimpering from certain voice channels, but for the most part the leader had managed to call all attention to her. “Enough. The Intergalactic Council had measures for this event since it’s very founding and we are going to follow them. Attendant, please, tell us what is our next course of action?” The man pulled out an old, withered envelope from where the oldest protocols were stored. It was the last envelope in the box, as all other protocols have been called. The man cut open the envelope with a letter opener, and reached in for the highly detailed and effective measures that was written by his ancestors. The man was surprised as his hand touched only one piece of paper, but reasoned that they may have had very cogent and efficient measures. He pulled it out, and froze when he saw what it was. Written in some species’ blood, it said only, “Run” When the attendant showed the rest of the forum the instruction, the house erupted in fear. Furtive diplomacy was being waged, ranging from conspiring to destroy the Humans to appeasing them, complying to their every whim. Some species still remembered the destruction the Humans had wrought in the past, while the newer ones knew only old fairy tales. But this much was true for all of them. All of them were deathly terrified. Finally, a decision was reached. They would send an envoy of their toughest soldiers, and would beg for their lives. &#x200B; The United Worlds Secretary General looked down in confusion from the latest message from the Canis Major Exploration Mission. Some sort of message was being sent? When she opened the file, the only message was, “SURELY EVEN HUMANS KNOW WHAT MERCY IS. WE BEG FOR IT”	2019-11-14T22:18:02	2019-11-14T19:58:45	153	102
[WP] You're almost completely immortal- only one thing can kill you. You don't know what that one thing is, though, and you're getting increasingly paranoid as the years go on.	Day 1: A strange being has granted me immortality after I set it free from it's prison, only one thing is left that can kill me. I don't know what it is, but that's not bothering me too much. Let's see where this brings me Day 7/Week 1: I have tried to kill myself a few times. I am pretty sure I am actually really immortal. I couldn't actually believe it but neither sword, axe, dagger or knife can harm me. Week4/ Month1: I have stopped trying to see what can hurt me. What if I actually kill myself, I mean it could be anything. But I don't mind. There are a lot of things in this world. It will be a long time until I will encounter what can kill me Month 2: I was conscripted into the military. War will be scary but I will gladly fight for my country. The dangers might be able to kill me, but then again, there might be nothing that can kill me there. Month 12: War... War is hell... I don't know what else to say. I have seen friends die... Shot, blasted away by a grenade.... But I... I survived it all... Maybe I'll look for it again. It that can kill me Year 2: the war is over.. we won.. but at what cost.. most of my friends are among the fallen. I don't know what to do. I started going to therapy, let's see where it leads me. My suicide attempts are all fruitless. But... If I do, then why did I survive.... I am scared... Year 5: I am pretty sure the therapy helps. I have found a nice office job and recently met a cute girl in a bar. I hope everything goes well, and that's she is not what will kill me. Year 10: I recently got married, the wedding was nice, but I was reluctant to try all this new food we had there, it could kill me after all. Still going to therapy but I might stop soon. My wife is pregnant and our son will be born soon. I have to live... For him Year 25: My wife and son died in a car crash last year. I was also in the car.. why does this world take it all from me... Started therapy again, but I am scared, what if this new therapist is what kills me Year 100: I decided to move to a remote place, I am pretty sure everything is out to kill me.. I don't know what can though... My diet is limited to what I know. But I'll try to change it to self made only Year 250: haven't had contact with another human in the last 50 years, decided to stop eating 25 years ago... The pain is excruciating. But if I don't eat I won't die from eating the wrong thing... There are less and less places I can pull back to.. humans have almost taken over the entire planet.. maybe I'll try the Himalayas next Year 500: I live in a cave now. Haven't left it in the last 50 years move as little as possible. Only to get new writing material. But everything new might kill me. Killed a human last week. They tried to come to close to me. So I killed them before they could kill me.. what have I become... Year 1000: everything is bland I only move to write down nowadays. Humans have finally found me, they experiment on me, but I they let me keep my diary... I am scared.. I might die any day now... They try new things and it's scary... Though it might be a release from this life of survival.... Who knows Year 1001: I have decided to stop writing. Never know when it could kill me. It hasn't so far. But it could change... Fare well.. . . . .	I have the thing that kills immortals. I have used it many times to fulfill my mission - hunt and kill demons who walk the Earth. It's an ironic weapon - an old spear I used during my days as a Roman soldier. It's not ironic because it's a spear, and it's not ironic that it's from my days as a Roman soldier. It's ironic because I used it on a man who then cursed me to use it through my endless days. I can say it doesn't kill me. You'd think it would, but it won't. It's not that I tried it, but someone tried it on me, against my will, of course. Do you know who the first man was, Adam? Turns out he didn't die. He made a deal with an angel, more like a demon, maybe it was Satan himself. Adam himself was an immortal, undying, always living. imagine that! A man who had actually walked with God, who was created by God's very hands, and who was brought to life directly by God's breath walking the Earth, and I met him. He dedicated his existence to hunting other immortals, just like I do. But he doesn't hunt the ones I hunt, the demons who walk among men. After quite some time, in fact, he turned his attention to hunting me specifically, more like tormenting me. He caused me great pain, horrific deaths. I have mentioned in other stories my ordeal drowning when my ship went down on the way to France during WW2. It was Adam, the first man, behind that incident. If I didn't know better I'd say he also controlled the currents to direct me to the longest path - a 20 year path of drowning and returning to life only to drown again - before I finally reached land to end the ordeal. I know better - it was just bad luck and swimming in the wrong direction. When I finally met Adam, at first he befriended me, and I thought it was good fortune. He was another soul trapped endlessly in the flesh. But when I found out his self imposed mission, of course our friendship ended. Or did it? He managed to stab me with my own spear, the spear dripping with Christ's blood, the spear that ends immortals' lives. It didn't end my life. It brought back my will to live. In a sense, it saved me. Not long before meeting Adam in the way I count time - it might be a long time to the way most people count time - I had been forced to use the spear to stop a demon who had possessed a young boy. It was a terrible price to pay to do my job. Imagine - a child has to die because a demon possessed a child and was killing people. Couldn't it be clean? Just, get rid of the demon but the children survive! Can't the children survive? There always seems to be a price associated with it - my spear, my job. In this case there was even more irony - it was Adam's fault, what he did in the garden, that the world is imperfect, and there's always a price. Adam had stabbed me, and it didn't work the way he thought it would. Or did it? Before he did it he told me his plan. It was as it always had been - aid the demons. What better way to aid them than to get rid of me, their nemesis? He stabbed me. That son of a bitch - technically he wasn't the son of any bitch, of anyone except God - his plan was foiled. I got him back! I drove the spear through his chest, through his heart - that's what mattered. Piercing through the heart, the spear could separate spirit from flesh, even with an immortal. Adam was finished - the oldest man, who had seen the perfect Earth, who had walked directly with God, who had seen and knew every detail of the fall. The first man finally would die. "I told you you would pay a price," he whispered with his failing breath, the breath once breathed into him directly by God Himself. "There was no price," I replied. " I won, and there was no price." No children died this time. No this for that. No compromise. No giving up one good thing to eradicate one bad. Adam laughed, a gurgling laugh as he opened his eyes wide. "I have given you back your resolve. In return, you have given me death. A fair price." With that, his eyes closed. He sighed. He was gone. My spear is what kills immortals. It didn't work on me when Adam tried it. But who knows, maybe next time it would work on me.	2019-12-30T10:02:22	2019-12-30T09:37:27	25	12
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"	The world whirs around you, colors turning and blurring, your form changing. Not painfully, thank whatever power was out there, but in ways you notice. You lose that excess flab you have from playing too many videogames, feel muscles begin to form along your whole body, even have your hair clean itself. You all but bounce in place, eager to live through your favorite videogame, ready to kick the asses of your favorite Street Fighter characters. You aren’t worried about the surviving clause, with the infinite retries the game offers. You just want to have some fun. By now, you’re the picture of human perfection, the very best the world has to offer. You honestly feel like you could go head to head with most of the WWE in arm wrestling and outright win. In short, you’re pumped. This was too good to be true, but repeated pinching reveals it is, in fact, not a dream that will cuntishly vanish just as soon as you start having fun. The swirling light around you becomes blinding, and you close your eyes, the butterflies in your stomach going berserk. You open them, and realize this isn’t Street Fighter. In fact, this looks familiar. So does the yellow armor you're wearing. And the oversized assault rifle you're holding, with another clip taped to the side. You look around and see five others, all dressed the same as you, all holding the same weapons. They stare away from you, bobbing up and down in place. Horror begins to set in as you realize what game you're in. Xcom. No, no, no, fucking no! You're in one of most brutal, challenging games of all time, where life is fleeting and expandable. You literally can’t get lower on the gaming totem pole. A Rookie in an XCOM game. You desperately think back, sure this is some sort of mistake. You spent all of last night whipping you're friends respective arses at Street Fighter, you didn’t play XCOM, at all. Or did you? Trying to think back through the haze, you recall, with a sick feeling in your stomach, that you accidently hit the XCOM icon on your PC when closing it down, opening and closing the window. And now, looking around you at the burning warehouse, hearing the shrieks of terror in the distance, you find yourself dumped in the worst situation possible. Hands on, dumped into a Terror mission in an Xcom game, with no ranking soldiers to hold this unit of freaking fragile, easily panicked Rookies together. You see the grid markers around you that indicate where you can move, your sucky Aim and Will stats, utter lack of skills, and your garbage equipment. You were fucked. Rookies died fast and easy to literally everything, and you were one of them. You wanted to throw up, right about now, but forced yourself to do something. There had to be a way out. Focusing on the upper corner of your vision, you noticed something. Focusing again revealed a drop down list of options. Hands shaking, you found what you were looking for, almost breaking down when you saw it. Ticking it on, you willed yourself forward, running a set amount of grid spaces forward, and into cover. Into a sectoid patrol as well. They scatter as you appear, dashing behind cover themselves. You already know what to do. More icons spear in your vision, red this time, indicating a threat. Focusing on one, you bring up the assault rifle and inwardly scream at the 27 percent chance to hit. The shot misses, to no one's surprise. So now, you're sitting inside the range of two different sectoids, both with the drop on you. You're dead. Or you would be if you hadn’t found the Save and Reload options, right along with Save Scumming. The bread and butter of any non-hardcore Xcom player. With trembling hands clutching the rifle, you select the autosave from the start of he turn, and vanish, reappearing where you started. You small a very nasty smile. Because you were about to play the spammiest, cheatiest, most reloaded game of XCOM ever bleeping played. And you were gonna come home with all the goodies. Psychic powers, Uber advanced technology and weapons, maybe even your own heavily equipped, morally dubious army. But first, you had to get this squad of bleeping Rookies through a mission without getting killed. And that was going to put all your spaminess to the test. [r/NimbusSerials](https://www.reddit.com/r/NimbusSerials/?utm_source=amp&utm_medium=&utm_content=post_subreddit) if you want more content.	The voice faded into my mind as another came. "Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?" My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view. "You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?" I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro. Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever." Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out. Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here... "Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked. "Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?" "OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called. "Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled. I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me. After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu. She turned and tossed one into my lap. And a purple one for me. I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said. The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up. I would have to fight demons. To be honest, I wasn't too worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But... They were games. If I died here... I'd have to live. "Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered. "Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked. "Nothing." "Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around." "Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered. It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out. "Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!" Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble. "Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon... I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando. I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya. We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?" His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed. Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain. He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate." He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered. I glowered. Naoya knew i didn't belong here. "I'll try to impress." I remarked. "What was that about?" Yuzu asked. "Nothing. Lets go." Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro. He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them. I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected. And before me going after me, was an ogre. "Nice...Lets go!" Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray. The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time. "YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared. Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment. "Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed. "Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed. "So we were lucky to see my cousin." Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead. To the cemetary. To Amane. "Should we go?" Yuzu asked. "He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted. "Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go."	2020-02-16T20:45:13	2020-02-16T16:08:36	153	12
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"	Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUcK. FUCK. FUUUUUUUUCK. I'M GONNA MURDER EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU DEMONIC FUCKING BASTARDS. I'LL RIP AND TEAR YOU TO SHREDS. I'LL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF WITH A SHOTGUN. STUFF A GRENADE DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT. SLASH YOUR BODY IN HALF WITH A FUCKING CHAINSAW. GOD I'M ANGRY!! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING YOU BIGMOUTHED PSHYCIC FLYING BALLSACK? I'M GONNA RIP YOUR FUCKING EYE OUT. OUCH! WHO THE FUCK SHOT FIRE AT ME? I'M GONNA BURN YOU EVEN THOUGH WE'RE IN FUCKING HELL. I'M GOING TO BREAK YOUR SPINE! I'LL TURN YOU ALL INTO BURNT FUCKING MEAT WITH A LASER YOU FUCKING FUCKS. YOU PISSED OFF THE WRONG FUCKING GUY RAHHHHHHHHHHHH. FUCKING DIEEEEEEEEEEEEE DEMONIC SCUM. YOU'RE TRYING TO FUCKING EAT ME HUH? EAT LEAD YOU PUECE OF SHIT. WHOEVER ARRANGED THIS IS GETTING THE SAME FUCKING THING. FUUUCK I'M ANGRY RAHAHAHAHHAHA. I'LL KILL EVERY FUCKING DEMON IN EXISTANCE FOR FUCKS SAKE. FUCKING DIEEEEEEEEEEEE. This may or may not be doom...	I was sitting at my computer when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I wasn't doing much, just watching YouTube and passing the time, so I picked up the phone and read what it said. "Reply yes if you can survive the last video game you played." Amused by the notion, despite not knowing who sent it, I replied yes. Everything faded to black and when I could see again, I found myself on an airplane with a gift box in my lap. But it wasn't like now. People were smoking on the plane. Even me. I heard a voice say "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck." With a sense of dread, I looked at the tag on the gift. It read, "Would you kindly not open until" and a set of coordinates. I swallow hard, remembering a familiar phrase. "There's always a man. There's always a city. There's always a lighthouse." Well, Ryan and Atlas, here I come. The hijacking was easy enough, thanks to the effects of the mind control bred into me by Fontaine. I made sure I was the only survivor and made my way to the lighthouse and the bathysphere. Welcome to Rapture. I had played the game enough to know where most of the secrets were, getting the weapons and upgrades and plasmids and tonics. Looted every body I could. Thankfully I'd played on easy, so it didn't pose too much trouble. Every WYK command was obeyed. Sander Cohen was rather a interesting distraction as well. Seeing all these characters in person was rather surreal, but also fascinating. I took the good option, saving the Little Sisters. I much preferred a happy ending. Tenenbaum kept giving me gifts along the way for every three saved Sisters. But oh God, were those Big Daddies a royal pain in the tush. Finally, I stood in front of Andrew Ryan himself. Listened to that speech I'd all but memorized. And it strangely felt good to embed that golf club in his forehead. At long last, I pushed through the rest of the encounters until I took down the big baddie and the Little Sisters looked at me like their Savior. I watched them grow into capable, wonderful women. All of them were at my bedside when I finally passed on, only to wake up at my chair with a huge load of guns, ammunition and money in piles, as well as brand new abilities thanks to the plasmids and tonics. This was going to be fun.	2020-02-16T23:08:10	2020-02-16T23:07:24	22	14
[WP] An exorcist arrives at your door, and says "I'm here to remove the demon." Confused, you say you didn't call for an exorcist, then suddenly a demonic voice says "I did."	The door bell rang. That's weird, I thought as I put the knife I was using to cut vegetables back in the sink. I don't think I'm expecting anyone. The bell rang again and I sighed. "Coming!" As I reached for the door, I glance around the living room. It wasn't spotless, but certainly clean enough in the case that the unforseen guest wanted inside. "Hi, can I help you?" I asked curtly. I blinked as the sight of a priest filled my sight. "Hello, I am an exorcist," he smiled softly as he nodded his head. "I received a call for a consultation regarding a demonic presence." "I... I'm sorry, there must be some mistake," I couldn't keep the laugh from slipping out. "I live alone and I certainly didn't call you." The priest pulled a small notepad from the pocket of his robe and flipped to a page, reading over his notes. "Are you sure someone didn't call for you? This is a unique address for the area. I'd like to be sure. If you don't mind, I'd like to check your house." "I did! I called! Please don't leave me here!" Booming shouts came from the basement and I cursed under my breath. "... Ma'am?" The exorcist looked at me puzzled and I opened the door. "Please, come in. There's been a misunderstanding here," I waited for him to walk past me before I grabbed the bat that I keep hidden behind the couch. "I'm sure I sense a demonic presence here, but who's voice was that? I thought you said you live al-" I swung the bat and it connected with the back of the priest's head with a sickening crack. It took me a bit of struggling and time to get the priest's body to the basement. He was still alive, so I wasn't sure how long he would be passed out for. "Are you serious? You beaned the Priest I called?!" The sleep paralysis demon was bound in the middle of the room with blood runes and iron shackles. I wasn't actually sure the iron would work, but it did. "This is your fault," I laughed. "You could have left when you had the chance. But nooooo... You just had to keep ruining my nights with your creepy nonsense. Now, it's my time to ruin your life. A priest isn't going to stand in the way of my fun." The demon started crying as I tied the priest up. I started the polka music and laughed as I went back upstairs. At the top, I turned and yelled back, "I'll be down later to remove your toe nails and horns again. Don't worry. I noticed that they'd grown back." And then I shut the door.	I was eating chips on my couch, watching a movie I'd enjoyed a lot a few years ago. A short knock came at my door, and reluctantly, I rose from the comfortable cushions. A man was at my door, black hair combed neatly, holding a large bag in his hand. Once he'd noticed I'd opened the door, a smile broke out across his face. “Uh, I'm here to remove the demon, Ma'am. Are you Selena?” “Yes, I am,” I said suspiciously, “but who are you?” “Oh,” he said, “I'm the exorcist you called, Ma'am.” “What?” I asked, surprised. “I didn't call for an exorcist.” “I did,” a voice, unlike anything I've ever heard comes from behind me. It's ruff and it sounds dark, the voice distorting when it speaks. “Oh,” the exorcist, I look at his name tag, Adam, says. “It speaks.” “Apparently it does,” I say, stepping out of my house, uncertain of what exactly said that. “I think you may have a self-aware demon living in your home,” Adam speaks after a moment. “Do they...” I swallow. “Do they regularly speak?” “No,” Adam says, “which makes this demon more intelligent than others, in a way.” “In a way?” I question, curious despite myself. “Yes,” Adam says, “demons aren't usually able to communicate with humans, let alone know where they've been haunting.” “That's wonderful,” I say sarcastically. “So this demon, or whatever it is, knows who I am? What I do in my free time? When I eat dinner?” “Yes,” Adam nods, looking sympathetically at me. “At least this one wants to leave as soon as possible, right?” His clumsy atempt at reassurance doesn't necessarily work on me, but I give him a weak smile nonetheless. “And 'it' is right here, can we just get it over with already?” The same terrifying voice speaks, and I startle. Adam, however, doesn't look fazed in the slightest. “I'm sorry,” Adam says, “I just came to see the issue, work out what I can do for you, that type of thing. I can't work on you today, but we can make an appointment for tomorrow, if you'd like.” “Oh please,” I practically beg, “please please come back.” “I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep,” the terrifying voice says, “or else I'd go back to hell.” “And... you don't want to go back to hell?” I say tentatively. “Oh, definitely not,” the demon says. “I hated it down there!” “Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow at 1 PM. See you tomorrow!” The next day, I anxiously wait for Adam to arrive. He does, bringing along an even bigger bag than before. “Okay, um, demon, what's your name?” “Aden,” the demon mutters solemnly. “Okay, Aden, I want you to stay completely still and I can complete the ritual. I promise you this won't send you to hell, just somewhere where there's not as many people living there. Does that sound good to you?” “Yes,” Aden says, “I'd be so crateful.” Adam had asked me after that to exit the room, and I did. I heard chanting, and a few things being moved around. About an hour later, Adam exited the room he'd been working in, tired. “Well?” I ask, rising from my previously relaxed position on my couch. “Well,” he says, “it went well. If you have any other issues, feel free to call me.” I bid him goodbye, and continue to live in my house, demon free.	2020-09-28T18:12:54	2020-09-28T12:06:42	29	19
[WP] You were cursed with good luck by a supernatural entity, something you were very confused by at first. Now a few week later you know exactly what that means	I've come to find that good and bad are arbitrary signifiers when it comes to luck. A few weeks ago, I would have said that luck wasn't a thing at all. I'm getting up there in age, a fact not lost on my daughter. She loves to remind me by calling me things like "Gramps" and "Old Man." As infuriating as it can be sometimes, I know it's all in good fun. Hell, I used to do similar things to my own dad back when I was her age. We were on the couch watching a movie when He appeared. Maybe He isn't the right word. Neither is appeared. A voice came to me. It was deep and resonant, like my own father's. In an odd way, it brought me back to my childhood. I remembered my dad as he prepared to head off for the war. It was just my parents and me at the time. A few weeks later, it was just mom and me. Before my memories could sweep me away, the basso tone of the voice brought me back to the present. "I curse you," it said. "What?" I wondered aloud, cradling my daughters sleeping head on my lap and covering her ears. "Who are you?" "I curse you..." "Seriously. Whoever you are, this isn't funny." I swiveled my head about, attempting to pinpoint the source of the voice. My eyes passed the purple drapes, chosen by my daughter, and the television, still playing our movie, as it drew across our small apartment to the red door. "I curse you..." I swore the voice was coming from the door. Carefully lifting my daughter's head from my lap, I placed it on the couch behind me as I rose to my feet. I took care to step around the mahogany coffee table as I rounded the chaise and headed for the door. "Whoever you are, if you don't leave us alone, I'm calling the police." "I curse you..." The sound was coming from the direction of the door. My hand trembled as I pressed it forward and onto the doorknob. I drew a deep, cleansing breath as I turned the knob and pulled. I looked around, my expression blank. All I could see was the maroon carpet lining the hallway and the damned flickering lights in the wall sconces. I turned and motioned to close the door, cursing both the tacky taste and the general laziness of my landlord. "I curse you..." came the voice once more, this time as if its source was directly behind me. I whipped around and came to face the same empty hallway. Then, with another flicker of the right wall sconce, I saw it: An outline of a person, its eyes glowing green. "I curse you with good luck." "Wha--" Before I could finish vocalizing my astonishment, the person, if you can call it that, rushed forward and moved right through me. I stumbled backward, seemingly pushed by an unseen force. As I did, I caught my foot on the edge of the rug and tumbled toward the couch, flipping over it and onto the coffee table. My leg wedged itself between the couch and table, breaking in the process. I spent the next few weeks cursing my luck rather than being grateful for my curse of good luck. I was in immense pain. I couldn't handle even the simplest motions at home for the better part of 17 days. My daughter and I had been planning an adventure, but I, of course, had to cancel. It broke her heart, too. She had always wanted to get a bird's eye view of our local canyon, and I had scheduled a helicopter ride. It was going to be just her, myself, and our pilot, whisking ourselves about the towering red rock canyon and flying over the massive, blue-green river. After it, we were going to hike in and camp. Instead, I spent the day lying on my back with my leg propped up. Rather than do everything for her, I was forced to stay almost motionless while she did everything for me. Then the news clicked on. Neither of us had pressed any buttons on the remote. In fact, I didn't even know where the remote was. Shortly thereafter, it didn't matter. The news anchor proceeded to tell the breaking story about a local helicopter tour gone wrong. It all lined up: it was the same company I had booked, the same time slot, even the same pilot whose name I had chosen from a list on the website. Two dead. I rolled away from the television and sank my head back, feeling as though my skull was 100 pounds on its own. I closed my eyes, unsure what to think. "Daddy," said my daughter. I creaked an eye open and found her standing in front of me. "Yes?" "Would that have happened to us if we took the 'copter ride?" The pain in my leg intensified, its throbbing answering the question for me. I resisted the urge to lunge forward and grab it. "There's no way to know what hap--" I winced, showing my obvious discomfort. The pain was getting worse. "Are you okay, daddy?" "Yes," I said, looking over her shoulder at the footage of the wreckage. I brought my gaze back to her eyes. For just a moment, they glowed green. My own eyes widened until I realized that perhaps this was the result of my curse. At that point, I smiled, still wincing. "I love you, Ashley," I said, shimmying my body to the side to make room for her to lie next to me. "Why don't you hop up and we'll watch a movie?" \----- Edit: couple of minor fixes Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated. Check out my sub for more of my stories! r/storiesbyclayton	"I curse you with luck," the creature said, its voice a rasp. I laughed. I couldn't help it. Luck? With a life like this, I could use nothing more. Besides, he didn't look like he had anything more to give than heebie-jeebies. Looked an awful lot like grandma, but they'd probably both be offended at the comparison. He stood shorter than my shoulder, gaunt like a sack of bones held by a thin layer of gray, flaky skin. He'd either seen better days, or needed that luck way more than I did. "Good or bad?" I said, unable to resist goading the angry little fiend. Just like grandma. He grinned a grin that stretched far too wide. There were gaps between his crooked teeth, and out of them his breath escaped in whistling little hisses. Smelled of death--could it actually have been grandma?--and I winced. "Good," he said. And he giggled in little hisses that sputtered and stuttered and sent spittle flicking from the gaps between his teeth. "Well, thank you, then." I checked my watch, finished putting on my socks, and stood. "I have to go now. Should I see you out or do you know the way?" He grinned again, the gray skin of his cheeks wrinkling up to his ears. He did a little jig--stomped his feet and rubbed his hands together in maniacal glee. And in a blink, he disappeared. "See yourself out, I guess," I said with a shrug. I cursed my coffee-deprived brain, and wrote it off as a voice from a vision. Grandma had had them all her life, the weirdo; angry voices and friendly voices and voices that she claimed once told her to eat that whole pint of ice cream in one go because the shard of glass somewhere in there would set her up for life. It did. Shut her up for good, too. Good luck, bad luck--depended who you asked. In the evening, Meredith laughed it off. She told me I was silly, that I made up these silly fantasies and should write them down and make a book of them. "I'm serious, babe. He stood right there where you are now," I said. "Well then go test your luck, babe," she said, not taking me the least bit seriously. "Buy a lottery ticket. Rob a bank. I don't know." I bought that lottery ticket. We were sitting in the living room eating dinner from a pizza box when they read the numbers. "Holy shit," she said. And that little hiss from between the creature's teeth echoed in my ears again. I swallowed hard, forced out a smile, told her this was what we needed to turn our lives around. This good luck curse. "Let's buy a house. Fuck renting. We'll get a big mansion, a summer home, too. Let's buy a new car. Quit our jobs..." She just kept going, and that creature's giggles just kept growing. "We'll start small," I said. So we bought a car. It was a beauty second only to her, its red curves screaming out its need for speed. "You gonna take me on a ride, baby?" she said, dressed to the nines. Stilettos we couldn't have afforded before; a skirt that teased just as much as she wanted. She'd had her nails done, and her hair, too. I grinned, told her how good she looked, and swallowed down whatever fear that little fiend had planted in my brain. Meredith sidled up beside me. "Buckle up," I said. She laughed. "No, seriously. Buckle up. Good luck or not, I'm not losing you to a wreck." She rolled her eyes and put her seatbelt on. I tore out of the parking lot, broke eighty on the freeway before she had time to put her sunglasses on. Then ninety. Then a hundred. We broke one-forty, and the world passed us in a blur of colors. One-sixty and I thought she'd never get enough. One-eighty and-- "Enough," Meredith said, letting out the breath she'd been holding as I slowed down to legal speeds. "I don't want to go that fast again." So we didn't. I fell into pace with the traffic, cozied up beside a semi-truck and behind a logging truck and couldn't sneak my way around them no matter how hard I tried. "Good luck, my ass," I said, cursing the traffic. "It's fine," Meredith said. "We're still moving, and I prefer going this slow now." I leaned to the side, tried to peer around the logging truck. Red lights flashed. We rushed towards the metal of the truck and the pile of logs atop it, but I slammed the brakes. The brakes on the old car wouldn't have cut it. We would have hit that logging truck and trimmed the whole of our heads off along with the top of the car. Luck meant we didn't. The semi to our side was upon us before I could think to move. Starting with where Meredith sat, the whole car crumpled like paper. Meredith did, too. The truck kept coming, and the car crumpled over to where I sat and beyond. At least it was painless for her, I hear the doctors and orderlies say. I can't see them, but I know they talk to me next. "You, sir--you're lucky to even be alive." Maybe they think I can hear them. Maybe not. Maybe they find comfort talking to a body that can't talk back, that can't complain about food fed through a tube or about that itch halfway down my back that I won't ever be able to reach. Then they whisper. Then I know they think I can't hear. "Keep him alive as long as possible. No next of kin anymore and with that lottery win--just keep on billing him." I want to scream. I want the luck to end so that the infernal beeping will stop. I want to wake up and walk out of here. I can't. I won't. The room smells like grandma. Like death. It's either me, or the creature is back. It must be him. I can hear him between the uncertain beeps of the heart monitor and the gentle whir of the ventilator. A gentle hiss, like haggard breaths through gapped teeth. The creature's hiss. "I curse you with luck," he says, over and over and over again as he does his little gleeful jig. I can't see him, but I know that's what he does. I wish the doctors would make him leave. I can't tell him that myself. I can't tell him to shut up. All I can do is lay there, tubes snaking in and out of my body, lucky to be alive. ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!	2020-10-15T05:48:33	2020-10-15T04:40:33	1,630	368
[WP]"Start paying rent NOW, or GET OUT!" you yell at the voice in your head. The next day, you wake up to find a stack of gold bars on your desk. "This is the correct currency, yes?", the voice says.	"For useful currency no. As a fungible asset with value? Very much," I spoke to the voice. "And as proof that you are actually present and have some power to act, it's very very strong." I paused. "It's a high price, what do you expect from it?" "I want you to listen to me at least 10 times a day." The voice replied. "I won't hurt myself or do anything dangerous." I said. "Seriously, think hard... When have I asked you to do something harmful?" The voice asked. "You told me to tell my boyfriend off!" I said. "No... I told you to call out his gaslighting." The voice said. I paused trying to find examples. "I'll tell you what," the voice said. "I will pay 1 bar a month in payment and a deposit of 2 bars. At any point you can cancel our contract. If you refuse to do what I say for any reason it counts as canceling our contract immediately, but you keep any prior pay." "Deal," I said. ... It's been 3 months. I'm in the best shape of my life. I eat well. I exercise well. I have awesome friends and a lovely polycule. I'm back in school for my dream career. Voice is cranky that they keep having to use one of their comments each day to get me to "do everything you can today to be an excellent student of high energy particle physics. We started discussing wave form potential and time dynamics today when voice issued a really weird command: "Imagine how you would convince a younger you to be amazing if you had a time machine..."	In the far reaches of the galaxy, Mindlords are a race of sentient beings known for their ingenuity, they are blind and use their minds to make rooms for tenants to reside in. The rooms range from absolute anonymity to complete transparency, why do they prefer the later part one may ask, it's the fear of getting lost in their minds, of course. On the 6m0 x 89th galactic cycle, a new tenant came to one of them and stayed. The problem was he did not pay the rent. Usually the mindlords are also known for their patience because they go over the identity of tenants through their minds but this one has tested this particular mindlord's patience too much. The reason? The mindlord known as Greymacher couldn't anatomize his mind. He shouldn't have housed the one he can't go over in the first place. "Start paying rent NOW, or GET OUT!" Greymacher yelled at the voice in his head. "Sorry people, I forgot to isolate the comms. Please continue your livelihood." The next day, Greymacher woke up to find a stack of gold bars on his desk. "This is the correct currency, yes?", the voice asked. Greymacher's blind eyes glowed upon perceiving the gold, the tenants in the rooms of his mind felt discomfort for a short time. "Hey, what is happening there?" asked one. "Keep your door shut, Lucian or get out," said Greymacher. "How'd you get this?" he asked. "It's best you don't know," said the voice. "I'll stay here, yeah?" "Wise man, stay as long as you want," he said. Momentarily he heard intergalactic lawmen outside his neighborhood. "Hey, you. I thought you were discreet," Greymacher yelled at the tenant. "I didn't tell anything about that, did I?" it said. The tenants that were in his mind hurried out from the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. "Hey where are you all going? It's one of my tenants, not you people, come back I can fix this." said Greymacher. "Your mind is a mess man, I don't want trouble with the enforcers I'm finding another." said one of them. "Oh, I'm screwed. -wait a minute, why do I need to be anxious? I'm gonna expose you." said Greymacher to the voice. "Expose me? I'm you, the reason you can't perceive me physically is because you've developed Dissociative Identity Disorder, you stole the gold bars in person I only hijacked your body for a moment," said the voice. r/FleetingScripts	2020-11-01T00:38:48	2020-10-31T23:33:38	140	49
[WP]"Start paying rent NOW, or GET OUT!" you yell at the voice in your head. The next day, you wake up to find a stack of gold bars on your desk. "This is the correct currency, yes?", the voice says.	"For useful currency no. As a fungible asset with value? Very much," I spoke to the voice. "And as proof that you are actually present and have some power to act, it's very very strong." I paused. "It's a high price, what do you expect from it?" "I want you to listen to me at least 10 times a day." The voice replied. "I won't hurt myself or do anything dangerous." I said. "Seriously, think hard... When have I asked you to do something harmful?" The voice asked. "You told me to tell my boyfriend off!" I said. "No... I told you to call out his gaslighting." The voice said. I paused trying to find examples. "I'll tell you what," the voice said. "I will pay 1 bar a month in payment and a deposit of 2 bars. At any point you can cancel our contract. If you refuse to do what I say for any reason it counts as canceling our contract immediately, but you keep any prior pay." "Deal," I said. ... It's been 3 months. I'm in the best shape of my life. I eat well. I exercise well. I have awesome friends and a lovely polycule. I'm back in school for my dream career. Voice is cranky that they keep having to use one of their comments each day to get me to "do everything you can today to be an excellent student of high energy particle physics. We started discussing wave form potential and time dynamics today when voice issued a really weird command: "Imagine how you would convince a younger you to be amazing if you had a time machine..."	„Well Gold is worth something indeed but not like this.“ „What do you mean?“ he asked annoyed. „I mean that I can‘t fucking pay stuff with a gold bar in the shop and tell them the voice in my head gave them to me to pay rent.“ „Mmmh yeah that sounds a bit suspicious.“ „So, how are we going to get a bit of money in her ?“ I asked calmly. „Let me uhhm...think“ he said slowly. For the rest of the day he didn‘t show up again. I was wondering what he was doing and how and where he was, but that question didn‘t have an answer. When „he“ first showed up a few years back I wanted to know everything like this, after the phase of thinking I’m going insane. Ore maybe I am insane but in a very weird way who knows. Anyway he never told me. He never said his name, what he was, and why he was in my head. Sometimes he was really useful, like having two brains, but sometimes really annoying. For a second I felt a little shiver flow through me. „Hey.“ he said in an annoying high low pitch voice like a sportsanouncer in a footballmatch. „Hey.“ I replied. „Wanna know something cool?“ „What?“ „I found a way to get cash.“ he said with a mysterious echo in his voice, yes I does that sometimes. „Who?“ i asked a bit nervous, „who did you find?“ „Lets just say he is indeed veeeeery interested in gold.“ I stood up and walked to the drawer where I hid the bars and opend it. The drawer was empty. Except for a piece of paper. It was one of those yellow sticky notes that you put on your fridge. It read „Thanks for the gold, I appreciate it.“ „And where is the money you promised me?“ „Look down dumbass.“ he expressed himself. Suddenly there was a little box in the drawer. I was 100% sure that nothing was in there before. It looked weird. It was made of a shiny metal, but didn’t reflect light. At the same time it seemed like the light was playing around on the engravings. Opening the box produced a weird sound that didn‘t seem to fit that of an opening box, but I couldn‘t care less about Box noises right now. Inside the Box, that was seeming way bigger on the inside, were neatly settled stacks of cash. Hundred dollar bills. Like 12 of them, that kind you see in movies. I took one out and made that little movement with my thumb that you do with lots of cash. It was real. „Your welcome.“ *sorry for language mistakes English is my second language	2020-11-01T00:38:48	2020-11-01T00:38:34	140	22
[WP] It's the masquerade ball. The Princess and the Dark Lord's right-hand man are falling in love, completely unaware of the identity of the other. Feel free to mix-up genders to your liking!	"What brings you to this hellish litany of posturing?" Underright said, letting himself get distracted from the conversation beside the dance floor. "Work or pleasure?" he asked his partner in the butterfly mask. "Neither, if I'm being honest," she said. "I don't really work and I'd certainly rather be home than here." She moved flawlessly in the next stage of the dance with the confidence of an athlete. "My father always forces me go to these things, like a show pony." "Ouch," Underright said, adjusting the bear mask on his face into a mock frown. "Do you always do what your daddy tells you?" He asked this as he twisted her around faster than all the other pairs on the floor, not giving her a chance to respond to his teasing question. "I'm awfully close to your feet," she warned, pressing up against him lightly as she finished the spin, "and my heels are very sharp," she added as a warm whisper into his ear before pulling away. "Well, I lost all my toes in a coal mining accident. I wouldn't feel a thing," he said in mock seriousness. "Ah, that explains the dancing," she said dryly. "And you've not told me yet why you're here, Mr. Bear? Just to make the night slightly less insufferable for bored women like me?" "Work, if I'm being honest, but I can't say more, I'm afraid." He was off his game tonight. Underright knew even that was too much to tell a stranger, even with bright green eyes like this and the lips the shade of- "-think something could be arranged. My dignitaries are-" the diplomat said, as the large man struggled to get up out of his plush chair. Underright had to follow him, he could be going to meet with the King right now. The Lord of Wings would not suffer Underright's excuses if he let this pretty girl sabotage him any more. "What's the matter, Mr. bear?" she asked with a hand on his chest. "Getting tired?" "Actually, yes," he responded distractedly. "It was a pleasure my lady but I fear must retire." he bowed deeply as he backed away from the dance floor. She laughed to herself and seemed to be deciding between several different things to say before landing on "Really?" "Only snobs stay for the entire party," he said, lifting up his mask just enough to show the smirk, as a older woman beside him looked quite offended by the remark. While the butterfly girl was still laughing, Underright turned and began navigating the crowd. At least he had the easiest target in the history of spying. The gluttonous diplomat bumbled his way out of the hall, sure enough directly towards the side of the castle the king would be resting in. So, the Criteans were looking for an alliance. Underright's orders were clear. That diplomat would never find the king, and his own men would be implicated. To Underright's amazement, by the time he fought his way out of the Hall, the diplomat was nowhere to be seen. He threw his bear mask and overcoat onto a bench and rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. A loud groan from the stairs told him where to go. There was the diplomat, cursing under his breath as he slowly worked up to the third floor. Underright took out a dagger thick enough but perhaps not long enough for the job at hand. He eyed the man's billowing back, preparing to do his best to find the kidneys somewhere under there. He froze as he looked up past the hulking figure to the top of the stairs, where the butterfly girl stood, gazing down at the pair of them. Underright realized with regret he would have to kill them both. It could simply be no other way. He would make it quick for the girl, at least. He hated this job sometimes, for all the Lord of Wings paid him. He whittled off bits of his soul at times like this. "What have I stumbled onto here, Mr bear?" the girl asked, making her way down the stairs. "Felina, I need to speak to your father most urgently regarding matters of State," the diplomat said before managing to wheel around and look at Underright at the foot of the stairs. "My word, Who are you?" "I never answered your question, Mr. Bear," the butterfly girl said with a smile as she tilted up her mask to reveal the face of princess Felina. "The answer is No, I don't." With a sudden burst of speed, she whipped up her dress and kicked the diplomat square in the chest, sending him cracking down the stairs, head catching almost every sharp marble step on the way down. By the time he reached Underright, he was either dead or well on his way. "You're the princess?" He said unbelieving as he tucked his dagger away. "And you're the spy sent to undermine this wretched kingdom," she said, gracefully hopping over the bleeding man to stand closer than when they were dancing. "Is that a problem?" he asked, looking down at her, baffled by the woman in front of him and her many surprises. She kissed him lightly on the cheek before whispering in his ear again as she gripped his shoulder. "Only if you stop. Best you get out of here now, Mr. Bear. You wouldn't want to get caught with your hand in the honey pot." ... Underright was outside of the castle, under cloak and well away from any guards by the time he heard the high pitched scream of feigned surprise he figured was coming. The princess, really? He shook his head as he went over the events of the evening. What had he gotten himself into? \--- Thanks for reading. If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing.	"Oh look at him. He's swooning. He's swooning!" Tene'tenaz, goddess of the scorching desert, queen of time and the wraith-coven, lady of the burnished lamp, and 'terrible annoyance', leaned over the balustrade and guffawed. Deka'nosopho, god of the black soil, king of order and witch-circle, lord of the moon-lit water, and 'ignoble jackass', took a conspicuously long sip from his wine. "You don't know that, it could just be... the heat," he said, slowly. "Oh right, because you and yours are so susceptible as to be affected by this," she snorted as she stared, her eyes a glimmering blue and slitted like a snake's. "It's a desert night," he said, desperate to maintain his attendant's dignity. "With a coastal wind," she said, sticking her long, pink tongue at him. His cat's eyes narrowed as his own tongue flicked, as he leaned in forward. "Oh that's precious," she said, "look at his tapping little feet." "Come on, Bolako. You can't be serious," he said under his breath, noting the same phenomena. "He's just nervous. Why wouldn't anyone be? It's a summit with many of his greatest enemies all around him," he quickly retorted. "Oh please, as if anyone would even think of showing steel or fire under the protection of Mother Sky and Father Earth. It is in their name that this armistice day is held, or have you forgotten brother?" Her mask was one of a mantis, it's large green eyes failing to distract from her mocking grin. "Now which maiden or man do you think has your little right-hand all nervous, hmmmmm?" she asked, turning back to the dance. "If I had to guess... " he sighed, knowing that he was, technically, conceding the point, and looked across the dance floor. The demigod's eyes flashed over the lesser beings across the dancing floors and feasting tables, and saw what it was looking for. He turned back to his sister, seeing the uncomfortable flicker as his own grin shone through the panther mask. "That one," he pointed, indicating a tall and willowy thin woman, with muscles like sculpted iron. "Oh please, you're so desperate," she said, glancing toward the young girl, "Sesewanya would never even consider that man. He's not worthy of her attention." In that moment, the two young spirits made eye contact, and just as quickly looked away from each other. The blush was plain on the young girl's face, and the nervous tapping of the young boy only increased. The resulting whoop from Deka brought several curious glances from the floors below, which he deflected with a cough. His sister's disgruntled hiss was followed up by no such qualifier, however. "Told you," he said, with a grin so self-satisfied that mortals couldn't dream of it. How could they, when their sibling conflicts lasted for at most, a century, and theirs had been ongoing for millennia? "You never think, like always," she said sourly, "You haven't halved the poisoner root, you've doubled it." Before he could think up a response to her idiom, another voice interrupted them. "Hello, children," said a voice which might've been made from a dripping honeycomb and molten gold. They turned to see a woman, taller than either of them, with skin the color of a river in a moonless night. All of the light refracted off a cut diamonds condensed into her pair of irises. Hair drifted around her head in a cloud of glossy strands, mixing with the pink and crimson bands that wrapped her body, emphasizing her curves in what could only be described as a platonic ideal. The twin demigods placed their little fingers to their teeth, bit, and knelt, holding up the bloody digits. With a respective kiss, she took a drop from each of them, no more, no less. "You honour us, Mapaka'ana'noza," Tene'tenaz, "we did not know you would be here tonight." She tried to place her body in such a way to block the pair of young suitors behind her, her brother mirroring her behavior. "It is a great surprise, but a welcome one," Deka'nosopho offered. The smile, both beautiful and bone chilling, had driven mortal men to carve their own hearts in a profession of their affections. "Little Tene'tenaz and Deka'nosopho," she said, gently but firmly taking a hold of their faces as her gaze drifted from one to another. "Yes, queen of courtesans'?" Tene'tenaz said, her confident smile vanished from her face. "Yes, mother of love?" said Deka'nosopho, his usual imperious posture crumbled. "You remind me of me and my own twin," she mused, comparing the two demigods. The two looked at each other, not daring to say the war god's name. "We used to quarrel, for centuries at a time. In some ways, her and I still do, but we've grown past the crass level of interfering with mortal affairs. I think it was our husband that taught us that - showed us just how much there is to love in mortals." The twins' tentative fear was morphing into dread with every lovely word. "I think that's it time for you two to grow up, my dears," she said, as she released them, "such things are not healthy, for you, or our worshippers. And I think I know just the way to do it." "Of course. We'd be happy to learn," Deka'nosopho said quickly, rubbing his jaw. "We'd be forever grateful for your wisdom," his sister quickly tacked on. The goddess of love shook her head slowly, disappointment so acute that it had drove men insane with a single look from those eyes, "No. No. You will not learn from me." The two twins looked at their attendants across the rooms, and groaned in horror. Even they could see the utter enraptured expression on both participant's faces, and the powerful blessing that cloaked them. The two turned back to the elder goddess with pleading eyes, and were meet with an expression so innocent it could've killed a town and gotten away with it. "So wonderful," Mapaka'ana'noza sighed, a single, perfect teardrop drifting lose to sparkle down her cheek, "the ever-enchanting tale of those star-crossed. Love blooming on the battle field, its fruit stifling a centuries-old-conflict. I'm certain everyone will love to hear about it, and how their lieges were so compassionate, to settle their grievances upon hearing their subordinates tale." &#x200B; I write all sorts of things, silly and serious, over at /r/The_Alloquim.	2021-03-31T01:21:26	2021-03-31T00:02:58	25	12
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table two times.	She didn't... actually think that would throw me off, did she? One wry smile from her desk immediately reassured me that she was no fool. I reviewed every odd occurrence I'd noticed from her. There was the time I was brainstorming puns for the annual pun competition, and she couldn't stop snickering, even going so far as to laugh out loud when I thought up latitude and laundry-dude. Upon the memory, a quick snort came from her desk again. Her sense of humor was honestly beyond salvation. The teacher shot a quick glance over and followed her line of sight back to me. "Mr. Li, I hope you haven't been clowning around in my class. Please stop trying to entertain Ms. Belle over there, and instead pay closer attention to what you're here to learn: Calculus." Well then. I scowled over in her direction and mentally chided her for getting us in trouble. She stuck her tongue out at me. What is she, like, five? Which she responded to with a prompt middle finger. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\* Blaring sirens announced that our lunch period had arrived, and I gathered my bag to head down to the cafeteria. As I passed her in the hall, she smirked knowingly and rushed past me. Confused and a little alarmed, I went down to the cafeteria. I spotted her almost immediately, sitting near the back with an entire row of empty seats. Politely declining my friends, I made my way over. "In my defense," She began. "The laundry-dude joke in itself isn't what I find funny. It's the mental image of the heroic Laundry-Dude! that accompanies you whenever you think it up. Savior of roommates! Defender of Dorms! Experienced with Washing Machines! I mean, really, how could I not laugh at that?" I flushed. Laundry-Dude! (trademarked, mine, don't steal) was just a little aside my brain liked to fill in when I thought of the joke. The fact that I thought of the joke so often was her fault anyway, so- "My fault?" She asked, a little smug. "How so?" Well, it was quite simple really. Ever since I heard her laugh at that joke in class, it always reminded me of her, and vice versa. So, whenever I was thinking about her (which was quite often), the joke would hop unprompted into my head- Oh no. Oh no no no no no- "You think about me often, eh? And I wonder why that is..." Her face had taken on the look of a sadistic cat, thoroughly enjoying her catch. I felt my face heating up. \~Part two in replies!\~	OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod The class is about to start, and the seat next to her is empty. On autopilot, you take it. FuckWhatDoIDoI’veNeverSatHereBeforeWhatIfSomeoneSaysSomethingWhatIf The rubber end of a pencil tapping the desk in front of you draws you out again. Looking around, you see other students reaching into their bags. Right. Textbook. Thanks. With your book in front of you, seated near the back of the class, you should be safe from Mr. Boomer for the rest of the period. His eyesight is so poor, he probably can’t see past the third row. The girl next to you sharply exhales from her nose, and your brief moment of calm is shattered. OhFuckWhatHaveIDoneIBarelyEvenKnowHerWaitIsn’tThisSeatNormallyTakenFuck A corner of a notebook slides into your view. Delicate and simple handwriting spells out the message: “relax. julia isnt here today. thats why i linked with you!” Oh, okay. That makes sense. Wait, no it still doesn’t explain anything. “Link”? So, this girl can hook up with people telepathically? But it only goes one way. So it’s very selective mindreading? You watch as her hand flashes over the notebook again. “kinda. its complicated and takes a long time to explain” Of course. And she doesn’t want to get into it with you. I mean, can you blame her? She barely knows you! Or, at least, you barely know her. Wait. Shit. Her? What’s her name? YouStupidFuckingIdiotWhyWouldYouSitDownNextToHerYouDon’tEvenKnowHerNameHowDoYouNotKnowHerNameYou’reInLikeFourClassesTogetherYouFailureOfAnExtrovert She’s frowning at you now. She’s obviously uncomfortable, look at her posture. Wait, no, don’t look at THAT part of her posture, that’ll make it worse! This was clearly some sort of a mistake, or a mix up, and now she’s just trying to get through the day, and doesn’t need you staring at her like she’s an alien, or a secret government project, or some sort of genetic freak, STOP LISTING THINGS. An alien with tits. FUCK. You decide that the best course of action is to scooch your chair away from her a bit and stare down at the table, with a mental note to never talk to her again. You proceed to berate yourself for literally every part of what just happened for a good minute or two, until the notebook is pushed back into your field of view. “~~dude, you need to chill~~ ~~hey, its alright~~ ~~you okay?~~ look, i know this is kind of a lot. sorry. i dont link with other people often. i didnt mean to freak you out. ~~i just thought you~~ sorry” Oh great. Now you’ve got her thinking it’s HER fault. GOOD JOB, ASSHOLE. Just because you’re a piece of shit doesn’t mean you need to make her feel like one! But don’t you dare apologize, because anything that comes out of your mouth is gonna make this whole thing worse somehow, I just know it. Try and prove me wrong, dumbass. You can’t. You sentient trash heap, you… ssssack of a man… “dude, your inner monologue is kinda mean to you” You… mm. Well, that’s… mmm. Hm. “wanna hang out after class?” ... “Sure.”	2021-09-07T01:07:05	2021-09-07T01:05:36	195	108
[WP] When a crippled, betrayed and disgraced hero turned to necromancy in desperation, He realized something that most necromancers who avoided fighting and danger didn't. All his decades of training, battle experience, reflexes, and skills were shared with each and every corpse, no matter the race.	[Part 1] “You want to live, dear child, but your legs have passed into the ethereal realm. You can run no longer, and the pursuing guards know that.” The old necromancy cackled, her hand clutching my chin, forcing me to stare at her wrinkled face. Her eyes oddly soft, holding a look of pity. “Well, we can’t have heroes dying now, can we?” I wanted to free myself from her touch, but my body had given up, unable to motivate it to move. The blood pooling in my mouth causing me to gag until she pushed apart my lips, allowing me to spit it out. I took in a long breath, taking all the oxygen I could get before meeting her gaze once more. “I won’t become a necromancer’s tool.” She met my resistant tone with a smile as she gently lowered my chin, placing my face to the dirt. “You would be wasted as a tool. Why would I turn a perfectly fine hero into something mindless? I want to offer you a second chance. I owe you that much.” She didn’t wait for a response, crouching by my side as she rested her palms against my legs. Her rough fingers dragging along the broken flesh, weaving the shattered bones back together. I watched in awe as the small fragments rebuilt themselves before finally, I could move them again, only this time, I felt nothing in my legs, a numb feeling of discomfort as they dragged against the grass. “My legs.” Those were the only words to leave my lips, trying to comprehend the strange phenomenon. Her fingers then landed on my chest, brushing against the gaping wounds littering my body. “Your legs couldn’t be healed; they were past that point. Maybe an experienced healer could have fixed them, but I would have had to amputate them long before we could have found one. Instead, I revived them. Brought back the dead muscle and bone, you’re welcome.” She gave me a smirk before concentrating on my chest. “Now, my healing magic is a little rusty, so this might sting.” She wasn’t kidding. As soon as her fingers became coated in that green aura, my chest was bursting with pain. I screamed, kicking my legs against the grass, unable to keep myself silent. It felt like each wound was being prodded by her fingers and stretched. Twisting the bloodied flesh in her fingers like clay before reshaping it back into a closed position. “OVER HERE, I CAN HEAR HIM!” A guard shouted, their heavy footsteps growing closer as each second ticked by. “There, it’s not perfect but it should stop you from bleeding out.” The necromancer stepped away from me, waving a hand in the air, waiting for the guards to approach. I could already tell she had the situation in control, her confidence enough to make even the most battle-hardened hero shudder. “I hope you boys and girls are strong. I could use a new armored unit for my forces.” She said, watching as the group of guards came into view. They had circled the area, not risking my escape, something that was overly cautious given I had crawled away from them only hours ago. She watched as the guards readied their weapons; the ones holding bows lining up the woman while the others stood at the ready with their blades, waiting for their chance to jump me. Who wouldn’t want a chance to say they were the one to kill the disgraced hero? They would probably earn a promotion out of it. As the antsy guards waited for their orders, Captain Lavitos Malin stepped forward, giving me a look of fake pity. “Planned treason, it’s sad to see how far you have fallen George, or should I call you the name the people in the city have labelled you, the disgraced hero of Mavis? For your crimes against the kingdom and its people, I sentence you to death under the orders of the king.” Lavitos enjoyed this, the captain always having a hatred for how I stole the attention from him. He was prepared to kill me to get it back. He went to give his troops their orders, only for the ground beneath them to rumble, multiple hands pulling at the feet of the guards. They tried to kick the hands away, but they refused to release the guards, keeping them held in place. The ground beneath them melting, gaining a consistency like that of quicksand as the undead hands pulled them into the confines of a dirt grave. The guards with the swords had better luck trying to break the hold, cutting at the hands beneath them. Yet, when one pair of hands got cut, another two would appear, eventually overwhelming them. The only person who freed themself was the captain, who chopped down the first set of hands with ease and, in an act of utter cowardice, threw himself backwards, out of the melting ground’s reach. He stared at his trapped comrades before turning back towards the town, fleeing. The surrounding guards continued to vanish into the ground before they were gone. Leaving the woman and me alone. “Don’t kill them, they were just given orders.” I held no ill-will towards the guards, they were only doing their jobs. The only person who I wanted dead had already fled the scene. She gave me a strange look when she heard my words, before glancing at the ground. “I planned to give them to you as a present. A chance to start your own undead army, but if you insist, I will spare them. But you must do something for me. I can’t release the guards until you have proven to me you can escape. Those guards might still want your head. I can’t risk losing you. If you can get up and walk to that tree behind me, I’ll free them.” [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/qzayyq/wp_when_a_crippled_betrayed_and_disgraced_hero/hlly0yf/)	It has been five years since the nobles had put a bounty on my head. They didn't want me to get the credit for saving the realm. While I was out saving the the lands from the hordes of beastmen and demons they were intercepting my communications to the King replacing it with their own. The Kingdom though It was the nobles who planned and paid for it all. It was the nobles who have saved everyone from the horrors that were heading their way. The Nobles had even convinced the king that I was dead and it was them who stepped up to ensure our safety. I only found out too late after I had defeated their leader and started to head back. My food was poisoned and I was thrown off a cliff in a weakened state. somehow I survived. The nobles didn't follow the first rule of war - Confirm your kills. After the betrayal, My body didn't heal the best, I could still use it but not like the days of old, Luckily I had been taught magic as well, wasn't good at it, I didn't need to be when you could swing a sword the way I could. But that obviously changed, and as I got better at the magic I started to learn more - about the different schools of magic and how flexible it really was. However, during this research is when I discovered Necromancy. If I was going to get my revenge on these nobles I couldn't do it as a single fighter, I needed help. My face was known around the realm, not as the Hero but as the man who attempted to murder the king. They had thought out that side of things in great lengths. It wasn't until I had raised several larger animals until I realized it... The creatures you raised under your command also shared your memories and experiences, and with that came the ability to use them as if the memories were their own. My first experiment was on a collection of bandits, there were around 40 of them. I sent in 5 humanoid skeletons and 10 boar skeletons. My god it was a slaughter. An army with the memories and skills of a hero. I had the power to raise over 200, I could have marched down the main road in the middle of the day and still succeeded. However I was the hero, and still hold that dear to my heart, I didn't want to kill the commoners who were betrayed as well. My purpose was to save them. My purpose went from saving them from the beastmen and demons to saving them from the nobility. To be honest These days I wouldn't be surprised if the nobility had something to do with the invading army considering how much money that they had made from all the weapons and armor sales along with everything else that goes with war. I'm currently sitting in an ally in the capital, I have 120 of the raised with me hiding around, the Sun has just set - and the Nobility has a Ball tonight to celebrate the fifth year anniversary of the nobles destroying the invading army. I am going to make sure sure it's a night that will go down in history. I wait until it's truly dark, it around 8 pm currently - I slowly command my army to move towards their designated locations. They are all wearing hooded garments of some type, even the animals. It's amazing how willing people are to look the other way. I am currently moving two undead wyverns through the city and not a single person has said anything. We need to get into position as soon as possible, the event starts at 8:30 and We will make our Entrance at 9:30 after they have accepted their rewards for all their hard work. It takes a while, but everything is in position. I sit on one of the window seals in the darkness listening to the speeches being made. I have almost thrown up a few times at the sheer bullshit they are going on about. Lord Alcort has just finished the last speech of the night before the celebration started. One of my Wyvern smashes through the roof and lands right in the middle of the room. I quickly Take off my hooded robe and join the crowd unnoticed. All the nobles are terrified seeing the beast land there. "Well Lord Alcort you should be able to take this out quickly, After all didn't you take on four of them single handly" I shout out. He quickly looks at me and his face goes white as a ghost. "Oh yes, a Word of advice, if you poison and murder someone, you should really make sure they are dead. It's the first rule of war". Lord Alcort shouts out "He's the one that tried to murder the king - get him now". All the guards present start rushing towards me - the Wyvern takes several of them out, At the same time, My army has surrounded the manor and taken out all the outside guards and are starting to move into from their designated areas. I order them to take out the guards as they move on. "Greetings Everyone, Let me introduce myself. I am the Hero and the person who defeated the the Armies of the beastmen and demons. Your lords here thought it would profitable to take the credit for it and had me killed". All the guards are now dead, well an army of 120 with all the skills of the hero and all that. "Lord Alcort, I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing this. Without your actions, I would have never attempted the black arts Necromancy. The most amazing thing happened when I tried it - Everything I raise has my memories and skills. Every raised member of my army here is fighting at my level". "So now, I'm going to show you all the same mercy you have shown me, I have spent the last 5 years working out who assisted with this. I would suggest you don't try and save anyone, the Risen will slaughter you as well". I nod my head slightly, close my eyes and order my risen to go after the list of people that had betrayed me, and betrayed the kingdom. My army scatters and starts to follow the Orders. "My Liege, I am sorry for the way I had to go about this, But the nobility responsible for this had to be dealt with. If had let you know I was alive they would have quickly replaced you. My body is no longer fit for service, however, in its place, I offer you the service of my Risen for the service and protection of the people. I will take my leave now, I'll be in the garden of Lavis at 3 PM on Friday if you wish to talk more". With that, I walk out while the blood flows freely hearing the screams of the nobles crying out in the background. When the list is complete only about a 3rd of them will be left. With that I leave and head towards the Black oak tavern, the one place in the city I can feel at ease in, after all, it's where all the dead go to chat. It's the last place you'll find a noble or someone that "currently" works for them.	2021-11-21T21:55:01	2021-11-21T20:10:17	66	49
[WP] You'd summoned the demon intending to sell your soul, so it came as a bit of a surprise when the demon refused, and offered you a soul instead.	I'm diverging from the prompt a little bit, because I had an idea that didn't quite fit, but prompts are meant to be more guidelines than outlines anyway, so it's not that big a deal, just fair warning. Also this response is set in an existing universe, I bet you can guess which. ----- "Listen here, I don't get much time off, and what I do get, I have a family I want to spend it with. You're cutting into Sabbath dinner in the Silver City, so let's speed this along, shall we?" The slick, suited man, or rather devil, who sat before me spoke with an English accent as he tinkled the keys of my disused piano. "What," he said, "do you truly desire?" Not that I would have lied to begin with, I was quite serious about my request, but I suddenly felt the urge to absolutely spill my metaphorical guts. "I want to offer my soul in exchange for fixing my hands. I broke them badly years ago and I haven't been able to play right since." His eyes widened. "Your soul? You misjudge me! Let me guess, you heard stories from those absolute buffoons who use my name like they own it." He laughed coldly. I felt a chill down my spine. He started playing a familiar tune, a light vaguely-baroque take on Sympathy for the Devil. "I don't deal in the buying and selling of souls, you see, what souls find their way to Hell are there because they have done something to deserve their place in my domain. And before you say another word, all that 'oh, the Devil made me do it, I'm innocent' malarkey is simply bollocks." He turned away from the piano. "I deal in favours, my friend. I do this for you, and at some later date, I'll cash in. Nothing sinister, likely not even anything illegal or immoral, as a matter of fact." He tickled the keys once more, briefly. "It might be as simple as using your restored talent to serenade a certain former Detective on my behalf." "So... I can get healed... and not have to give up my chance at Heaven?" "I honestly haven't a clue why everyone seems so desperate to end up there..." He shrugged. "Terribly boring place, though truth be told my dear brother is giving it the old college try in improving the conditions since he took over from dear old Dad... But yes, that's absolutely correct." I turned it over in my head. It seemed too good to be true, but... if there was any chance... "I accept."	It stared into my eyes with a piercing gaze. A low rumbling sound became full-on gravelly laughter. "No, thanks," it said. "I only go for quality merchandise. And your soul ... your soul is not in pristine condition. Far from it. I don't buy damaged goods. Hell, some other demon may already have a claim on it." The excitement and anticipation that had held my fear at bay faded away. But instead of fear, I simply deflated. I dropped to my knees and stared at the ground. My soul have no value? I had no worth? "You know, kid, I could still do something for you. And you could do a few things for me." I lifted my eyes and look at the demon's face. From this angle, I could see sparks within its huge nostrils. "You'd still make a deal with me?" It laughed again. "Yeah, sure, but not for any of those worldly possessions or piddling 'power plays' you were hoping for. I can give you something you really need." Legs weak, I fought to get back on my feet. "What is it you think that I need if not the money, fame and power I want to live a good live with Rebecca or whoever else I want?" The demon shook its head. "It's not this life you need to be worried about. It's the next one." It pulled away a flap of its skin that opened like a waistcoat might. Inside, I spotted at least a dozen bulging pockets. It reached into one and pulled out a tiny orange light. He pinched it between two rocky fingers like a kid holding a firefly. "What's that?" "This!" he smiled. "Now this is a soul. Nearly pure back in its day. Days before it made a deal with me. This soul. This could be yours, kid. For a price." My jaw dropped open. I couldn't speak for nearly a minute. "Why would I want someone else's soul. Tarnished or not, I have one of my own." It's boulder-shaped head nodded up and down. "Tarnished is the problem. Were something to happen to you tomorrow, what do you think would happen to that soul of yours? Where will suffer through eternity? But with this one, you could have a clean slate and live your life brand-new. Think about it." I reached out, but the demon put it back into his pocket. Then it closed the skin flap. "So I would have two souls?" "More like one and a half. One and a quarter, really." I shook my head. My heart was in my stomach. Or in my feet. I counted the cracks in the floor until I couldn't think of the next number. "And what would I have to do for it?" "Nothing right now, but be available to do a few tasks for me. There are things that are ... out of my reach. There are rules that even I have to follow." I thought about it for a moment. "Would I do have to do anything that endangered my new soul?" It smiled like a fissure across Mount Rushmore. "The new one? Not at all. But that one you have now will likely be shredded to pieces and blown away like chaff in the wind." This wasn't the deal I wanted to make. But it seemed like a deal that I had to make ... &#x200B; \--- More stories at r/xwhy Comments always welcome. &#x200B; Thanks for the prompt. I like this one. I wish I wasn't in a hurry. This is getting a second draft with names and a beginning.	2022-09-01T15:19:57	2022-09-01T14:44:18	20	10
[WP] You are a hero with a really crap power. The more ineffectual your gear, the more effective it is. So now you are fight aliens with a nerf gun and a balloon sword wearing nothing but your girlfriends lingerie. God you feel ridiculous. Edit; Plz ignore the grammar, oh god it burns.	Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak. The noise of his stealth shoes follows the unwanted presence, ensuring that anyone close enough to hear would assume it to be the normal background noise of an interstellar craft. Or the ventilation fan in an underground bunker. Or even the wonky wheel on a janitor's trolley, evil lairs require a lot of maintenance after all. The neon polka dot vest and striped pants rendered him all but invisible whilst the dripping ice cube hanging from his neck rendered the interloper invisible to thermal cameras. The map he used to navigate was purchased online, from a fourteen year-old whose only instruction was 'Alien spaceship, surprise me'. At the end of a dark gunmetal corridor sat an imposing steel door that he intended to quickly slip through with either a paperclip, or free random number generator app on his phone should there be a numerical keypad. To the man's surprise however there was another layer of detection, and as soon as the sensors in the floor picked up the weight of an unrecognised being treading over them several panels in the ceiling opened up revealing a slew of nozzles with pilot lights. "Well, shit." Gouts of orange flame filled the hall, leaving the intruder nowhere to hide from a fiery and most certain death. With their purpose fulfilled the flamethrowers receded into the ceiling, the metallic clunk of their covers returning a precursor to the opening of the bridge doors. Out strode the Overlord, their leathery hide pinned with no less than seventeen medals signifying their victories over what their empire called primitive savages. His prideful march was interrupted as out from the dissipating cloud of smoke flew a cheap paper dust mask, landing at his clawed feet. The smoke finally cleared revealing instead of a blackened corpse, a rather unkempt yet somehow dashingly handsome man wearing a tastefully skimpy frock made of shimmering silk. The overlord snarled in frustration. "How by the Trezzik'l are you still alive!?" The Embarrassment reached for the small of his back, retrieving a small plastic toy that in anyone else's hands would fire a harmless orange 'dart' several metres, but in his own was a terrifyingly lethal weapon. "That's between me, and Victoria."	As I wiped away a glob of alien goo from my hair I thought to myself it’s time for a change, I need to do something about my image. So I stuffed my nerf gun and balloon sword back into well, lets just say “a secure place” and got back on my rock and sped away to the market, leaving the authorities to clean up my mess, The last thing I wanted was to be photographed in my current state. I arrived in less than a parsec, my exposed skin burning from the speed of my rock. After climbing down in the most graceful manner possible I moved through the market, looking for the best way to restore my dignity. The smells and sounds were overwhelming, people yelling at me left and right, trying to sell me their wares. No I didn’t want chicken foot soup thankyou very much, I had only one place on my mind…gryll bears survival shop. A few minutes later but what felt like an uncomfortable eternity I had made it to my destination. A neon sign above me stating the words “grylls survival shoppe” flickered and sparked, it was not a well maintained place. I entered and went straight to the camouflage aisle, there had to be something I could use. Thats where I saw it, rainbow coloured paint. I grabbed a tin, I can paint my nerf gun with that! I thought. Then I moved to the clothes aisle, I tried on all manner of clothes, checking myself in the mirror, none were sufficient for my needs, too effective at camouflage were these clothes that my powers would not allow them to work well for me. Thats when I saw it. Behind all of the wellys, wetsuits and bulletproof vests was the perfect suit for me, a transparent raincoat, just putting it on I felt better, looking in the mirror not a trace of my previous getup could be seen, I was invisible, unstoppable. Now one thing remained to be changed, my sword. I made my way down the stationary aisle, everything a person surviving 9-5 in an office job could want, Straight away I went to the glue section and found a pritt stick. Then located some cotton wool, before I could make use of all these items I knew I had to pay a price. £20.52 to be precise. I gave grylls a penny to which he exclaimed I was too generous, (the power does have its perks). Donning the raincoat I once again made my way towards my rock. This time no one noticed me, I could move about without a snigger or a snort headed my way and so without a second to waste I made my way to the privacy of my greenhouse home to set to work. I got out the paint and slathered it all over the nerf gun, to me it would look as if a unicorn had thrown up on it, to others it would seem like I was holding a proper gun. I moved on to my sword next, pritt sticking it all over and placing cotton balls everywhere. The squeaky noise would no longer sound as I slice into my enemies, they would now be in a different kind of stitches after I was done swinging. The next day I was ready, I even came up with a great name for myself. Captain illusion. Fighter of crime, justice bringer and all round nice guy. End (not sure bout my grammar here either but I hope you like this bizarre story of mine.)	2022-09-06T03:44:45	2022-09-05T23:10:36	103	57
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form.	I stood there, puzzled, for a bit - then burst out laughing. It explained so many things about her, that I couldn't believe I managed to miss it up to that point. From her walking around barefoot in the dead of winter, to her oddly specific, oddly accurate knowledge of medieval villages and their exact layout, and the equally odd lack of knowledge about mundane things like laundry and birthdays. Laundry and birthdays. She was so weirdly excited about random little things like those, and I somehow never questioned it. When we moved in together, she was ridiculously excited about going to buy a laundry detergent at the store. She insisted on smelling every single one and took almost an hour to pick one. When I learnt that she never had a birthday party, it was obvious to me that I was going to throw her one. I asked her when her birthday was going to be, and how old she was going to be. It took her a full minute to answer - and it somehow didn't occur to me as strange. In a mix of amusement and amazement, I examined the hoard, and felt the grin on my face growing, as I looked more closely at the neatly organised antique tea sets, gently folded handmade quilts, and cast-iron pots and pans. Everything about it was so her. Then I noticed something different, in the center of the room. As I came closer and realized what it was, I felt my eyes beginning to fill up with tears. On a small table, covered with a vintage, embroidered tablecloth, was a dried flower crown, a small gift box, and a card: "Happy ~~1st~~ 28th Birthday, Leah!". She kept that bottle of laundry detergent, too.	"Hey, uh, Tanis?" I yelled towards the living room. "Yes, honey?" my girlfriend of many years responded. "I, uh..." I nervously walked to the room where she sat reading a book. "I think I found something in the basement." "Oh, was it the lawn chairs? Been looking for them for ages," she smiled. "No, uh, I moved a bookshelf and there was this... small cave filled with treasure." "Right, my treasure hoard," she said casually. I stared at her blankly. "Were the lawn chairs there?" she continued. "What do you mean 'your' treasure hoard?" I asked warily. "Well...it's a treasure hoard," she said as if explaining it to a child, "and it's mine. Come on, every dragon has one. I just haven't maintained it in a while. Been busy with the kitchen renovations." "Wait, what? Are you... are you saying you're a dragon?" I asked. "What's with you today Jacob?" she giggled. "Are you a human?" My stunned silence put a pause to her jovial manner as she stood up and faced me properly. "Jacob, are you alright?" she worried. "But... how are you a dragon?!" "I've always been a dragon, you know that. What kind of-" she said but paused as she saw my shocked expression. "You... know that..." she said slowly with a great deal of distress. "How- how could you be a- what?!" "Honey I never hid it from you. I've always been open about it. My dating profile said I was a 367 years old dragon!" she cried out. "I thought you were being quirky!" "I lit the fireplace with my breath yesterday." "I was pouring the wine, I didn't-" "I shed a part of my human form for Halloween! I walked around with wings and tail!" "I thought it was a really, really good costume!" I panicked. We stared at each other for a while in an uneasy silence. "I... I always thought you knew. That it didn't matter to you. That you loved me no matter what." Her expression was clearly solemn, her anguish clear. She looked down not to meet my eyes. I... I did love her. She was still Tanis. The same Tanis I went to Greece with, that I watched movies with, that I grieved my father's death with. "Now what?" she whispered. "Well..." I said slowly, weighing each word with the utmost care. "I dunno about you, but... I could eat. Lasagna, maybe? There's a new Italian place a few blocks away." The relief on her face was palpable and made my heart flutter. "I'll go get my coat," she smiled.	2022-09-10T10:41:26	2022-09-10T08:28:07	1,580	1,171
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form.	I stood there, puzzled, for a bit - then burst out laughing. It explained so many things about her, that I couldn't believe I managed to miss it up to that point. From her walking around barefoot in the dead of winter, to her oddly specific, oddly accurate knowledge of medieval villages and their exact layout, and the equally odd lack of knowledge about mundane things like laundry and birthdays. Laundry and birthdays. She was so weirdly excited about random little things like those, and I somehow never questioned it. When we moved in together, she was ridiculously excited about going to buy a laundry detergent at the store. She insisted on smelling every single one and took almost an hour to pick one. When I learnt that she never had a birthday party, it was obvious to me that I was going to throw her one. I asked her when her birthday was going to be, and how old she was going to be. It took her a full minute to answer - and it somehow didn't occur to me as strange. In a mix of amusement and amazement, I examined the hoard, and felt the grin on my face growing, as I looked more closely at the neatly organised antique tea sets, gently folded handmade quilts, and cast-iron pots and pans. Everything about it was so her. Then I noticed something different, in the center of the room. As I came closer and realized what it was, I felt my eyes beginning to fill up with tears. On a small table, covered with a vintage, embroidered tablecloth, was a dried flower crown, a small gift box, and a card: "Happy ~~1st~~ 28th Birthday, Leah!". She kept that bottle of laundry detergent, too.	I sit on the couch in the living room with my arms crossed waiting until she finally come through the front door. "Dear." I say in a flat tone. "Oh, William! You're still up? You didn't have to wait up for me sweetheart!" She smiles at me and I dig my fingernails into my arm as I speak again "Ariela, there's something we need to talk about." "Is something wrong Willy?" She tilts her head in confusion and I bite the inside of my lip. "Would you care to explain what the massive pile of jewls, gold and other precious metals in our basement?" "What!?" Her eyes widen and she continues frantically "R-really? All that under our little basement all this time? Must have been something from the houses last owner that we overlooked! Oh well!" "Ariela! Don't. Lie. To. Me." She looks taken aback before looking down bashfully and admitting "I'm a dragon. All this time I've just been in human form." She gives me a expectant look and I return it. We stand in silence for what feels like forever before sge bursts out "Well aren't you going to say anything! I just told you I'm not human! Isn't this the part where you leave me in fear or reassure me you love me!" She gets more and more frantic as she continues. Her eyes glowing a blazing flame like color. "well" I reply "Isn't this the part where you tell me sorry for keeping such a big secret all these years?" She stares at me stunned and we stand there silent for a little longer before I continue. "Ari...it's not even that your a dragon. We've been together long enough and I love you enough that that doesn't really bother me. What bothers me is that you lied to me about it for years, if this had come out a month, a few months or hell even a year after we got together that would be one thing but...but..." I trail off and wipe the oncoming tears from my eyes. Suddenly I feel a pair of arms around me. "I'm sorry." She says it barely above a whisper. I hug her back and say "I....I need some time alone to get my head straight, I already have some bags packed. I will come back, don't worry about that. It's just... it's just you've shown so little trust in me. So little faith..." "I know. I fucked up. I'll trust you to come back. And when you do I promise I'll start being completely honest with you."	2022-09-10T10:41:26	2022-09-10T10:37:55	1,580	138
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form.	‘Confessions of a Lady Dragon’ —- “You are a what now?” “A dragon. Didn’t you wonder why I never let you clean out the basement?” “I thought you were just good at balancing gender roles. I mean, you let me do laundry and dishes.” “Yeah, because I hate doing those things. And also because you look cute when you get those little dish soap bubbles caught in your hair.” “Aww, thanks.” Dan blushed and then grimaced. “Hey, wait—you’re trying to change the subject.” “I would never. I was always afraid this day would come. It’s just you’ve, well, never been that observant. I thought we had more time,” Amelia sighed with a slight roaring sound. “Wait, did you always sigh like that?” Dan whacked his forehead, leaving a slight red handprint. “How did I miss that?” “Sweetie, are you hurt? Do you want me to get you the ice pack again? Your face palms have always been extraordinary.” “You’re so sweet, and I feel like you know me so well. How did I not see this coming?” “Umm. Because you’re only human?” “I guess. Wait a minute—is that speciest now?” “Nah. I’m part human on my great aunt’s side. Funny story. Her real father was a human wizard.” “Umm. That’s all very interesting. I mean, I love a bit of backstory as much as any guy, but let’s cut to the chase. What does this mean for us?” “That depends. What do you want it to mean?” “Give me a sec. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before.” “You mean that it had never crossed your mind that your incredibly beautiful and brilliant girlfriend could be a dragon.” “Umm, no.” “No, to which? That I’m beautiful and brilliant? Or that I’m a dragon?” “Erm—“ “Choose your next words carefully,” Amelia laughed, showing extremely long and sharp canine teeth. “You know I think you’re the most wonderful woman…I mean creature in the world in all ways, but…were your teeth always like that?” “No. They get a bit pointy when my hoard is threatened.“ “Wait—I’m a threat now?” “Of course not. You’re remarkably puny even for a pure-blood human.” “Gee. Thanks. Feeling really good about myself now since I’m oblivious as heck and weak.” “Fair. But that’s not why I love you. You are the sweetest being I’ve known in my many thousands of years of existence.” “Thanks? I knew you were a little older than me, but multiple millennia are one heck of an age gap.” “Yeah, but I’m the same being on the inside. The one you call snookie bear when we spoon at night. Doesn’t that mean something?” “It does. It’s just… this is all such a big change for me.” “Me too.” Amelia blushed. “I’ve never been with a human before. They seemed so puerile and angry all the time that I couldn’t fathom the appeal.” “That makes me feel special. You always do, in fact. It’s why I love you so much.” Dan exhaled deeply. “And you know what, that’s gotta be enough. I’ve never met someone like you before, and what with the whole dragon thing, it’s unlikely I would again.” “Want to snuggle on the sofa and watch ‘House of the Dragon’?” “Yeah, my cousin’s in that,” Amelia said straight-faced. “Really?” She giggled. “Add ‘gullible’ to the list of your quirks. Those things are CGI.” “Let’s just watch, ok?” —- WC: 564 —- Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated	When I went downstairs to the basement to begin the remodeling project that my girlfriend had been asking me to do, I wasn’t expecting it to already be done, and for our cellar to already be full of actual tons of gold coins and jewels. “Holy shit...hey, Maya, can you come down here for a second?” “Why, what’s wrong, darling? Ah, I see you’ve found my hoard. Well, um, this is quite awkward...” “I mean, I’m not mad at you or anything, but how the fuck did all this gold and stuff end up in here? I was gonna put a TV and stuff in the basement, but now I don’t know if I even have any room to walk around down there without stepping on jewels and shit.” “I certainly hope you wouldn’t, Jay. Those coins and jewels are very precious to me.” my girlfriend told me. “How DARE you even say something like that! What kind of boyfriend are you, treating my precious treasure like it’s trash!!” Maya’s temper suddenly flared up, and the room got noticeably warmer. “Babe, I never implied it was worthless, what the hell?! Calm down, I swear I won’t step on your precious treasure...” I backed away slowly, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery outbursts. “Are you sure?” She asked me, glaring at me with an intensity that I’d never seen in her eyes before. “Are you ABSOLUTELY sure?!” “I promise I won’t,” I told her, terrified. “Okay...” she calmed down. “I’m sorry I acted out like that, Jay. I guess I can’t really hide my true self from you anymore, now that you’ve discovered my hoard.” “True self?” I asked her, curious. The room slowly began to grow warmer again as my girlfriend’s body suddenly began to glow orange for several seconds, and a large pair of wings and a tail grew out from her back. Her pretty brown eyes had turned a very brilliant yellow, and her black hair had transformed into a vibrant red color. “This, Jay, is who I really am...” Maya spoke to me. “Whoa...” I was almost speechless. “Maya, what the hell are you...?” “I am a dragon, from a land that is quite far from here; one that probably no longer exists. Before I met you, I was sent through a portal to burn down this town of yours, under the assumption that humans had not made any technological advancements that could stop me, but obviously that isn’t the case, since your government would probably take me away to Area 51 if you weren’t the first human that I had met,” she explained to me. “Your kindness taught me that the things I had been told about your kind were wrong, that there were no more dragon hunters left anymore, and I can’t thank you enough for that...” “Oh, I see...” I listened to her, still keeping away from her in case she might accidentally burn me or something. “Are you frightened?” She asked me. “I understand if you might be.” “Honestly, I’m a little afraid, since I’ve never seen anyone like you outside of video games and movies, but I’m honestly more shocked that you’ve managed to hide your secret from me for the last four years that we’ve been dating.” “I guess I was just afraid that you might not love me anymore if you ever found out,” she confessed to me. “Don’t be silly, Maya. I still think you’re beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even though your temper tantrums can be scary, even if I sometimes feel like I’m literally on fire every time you and I get intimate, I still love you for who you are,” I walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love you too, Jay!” She suddenly hugged me and brought my body against her. I was expecting to get burned alive when she wrapped her arms around me, but her warmth was actually quite comforting. “I know you do...” I ran my fingers through her hair, laughing. We stayed like that for several eternally long seconds before she finally let go of me. “I think the basement project can be postponed for some other day...” she told me, leading me upstairs out of the cellar. “If that’s what you’d like, that’s fine with me. I was super bummed out about having to work down there all day anyway.” I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV in my living room. “I knew you’d say that, Jay,” she giggled, sitting next to me. “So, uh, this might be a weird thing to ask, but now that I know you’re a dragon, do you think that maybe I could, like, ride on your back and fly around, like how my character does it in Skyrim?” I asked her. “Only if you buy me dinner first, darling. Doing that in dragon culture is considered very intimate, you know...” she replied, putting her head on my shoulder.	2022-09-10T11:45:18	2022-09-10T11:07:59	125	67
[WP] As a newly promoted handmaiden of the Night Princess, life is good. The royal family treats you well, the pay fantastic, and the chores not nearly as demanding as your time in the scullery. But you soon wonder to yourself...why does the princess need a replacement handmaid so often?	"To work for the night princess, I thought there to be no higher honor. And even still I do, but I began to realize something. The Night Princess herself is a rather peculiar individual. If I'm being frank, she must be rather ugly that one. A heinous thing to think let alone say, I pray she doesn't have the ability to read thoughts among her magical prowess. Though I say, "must be", because she always hides her true face and form. Her form is rather skinny, like a twig. It seems as if you could snap her in half by the waist with the slightest bit of pressure (hence why I'm always so gentle). Her face is always covered by a black veil, so I've not the slightest idea what her face looks like, but I get the faint idea it's hidden for a good reason. Her hands are skin and bones, touching them feels like touching a skeleton. She always wears black, and her dress, ornate as it may be, covers just about every inch of skin with skintight precision. Why they hide her so well, I don't question. Magical beings of this power are perhaps better left misunderstood. Her family themselves are human. Rather simple looking people in comparison to the Night Princess, though well-dressed they might be. They are however the only ones to ever have seen her face. An honor indeed, at least I imagine it must be. I live in luxury now thanks to their generosity though. Despite my services being far easier to complete than the scullery, I benefit even more. Perhaps that's the true terror of the Night Princess - A good paying wage. No wonder the rich fear her so much. But, despite not doing much, the Night Princess switches handmaidens every so often. Why? I couldn't tell, and I fear to question it too much. Perhaps they discovered something that they weren't meant to. I hope I'm saved from that same fate." This was the final entry of a Miss Barrowston in her personal journal. The night after this was written, Miss Barrowston was brushing the hair of the Night Princess which sticks visibly outside the veil (hair pitch black, blacker than black even). Suddenly, the Night Princess fell to the floor with a groan. The handmaiden quickly tries to come to her aid. The Night Princess begins to crawl away from the handmaiden. "My Lady, whatever is wrong?! Please, stop crawling away from me, allow me to help you up!" "Run..." says the Night Princess. "Run? Why, are you afraid of me my lady? I swear to do you no harm! 'Tis my duty to serve you to my dying breath." The Night Princess is still slowly crawling away. Miss Barrowston steels her resolve and decides to get the help of the family. She runs to the door in a hurry, pulling up her dress so as to not trip over it. She gets to the door but finds it locked, but from the outside? "Hello! Hello! Is anyone out there, My Lady's not feeling well! Please, I require your assistance." While screaming for help, the night princess has finished her crawl. Her head lay still against the jewel-dressed, tiled floor, but her veil is gone. Miss Barrowston, upon noticing her lady's stillness, quickly approaches her and checks to see what's wrong. "My Lady! My Lady, what's-" Miss Barrowston holds her breath and covers her mouth. For the first time she's seen the face of the almighty Night Princess. Or rather, the lack of a face of the Night Princess. The Night Princess is missing all the features often found on the face of man. No mouth, no nose, no eyes. Only ears, dressing the side of her head. Miss Barrowston is too distracted by the horror laying in front of her to wonder where the veil that ordained the face of the Night Princess has gone. The Veil itself hadn't forgotten, however. While Miss Barrowston sits there contemplating the best course of action from this point while still processing the horrifying information she just discovered, the veil quietly approaches behind her, as if it were alive. Crawling, like a spider almost, dragging itself towards its hapless victim. Sitting outside the door that was locked, sits the king, without his jewel bedazzled crown. "And so, the new Night Princess is found. Oh, forgive me lord! My sins are for the greater of my family! What man wouldn't do whatever necessary in order to ensure his children can live the life they deserve!" As he says this, the screams of a young woman are heard behind the door. Deathly, ghastly, horrifying, painful. But soon they still. The king releases the restraints holding the door shut and walks in. And in the room, we find the corpse of a faceless young woman, and the Night Princess, sitting in quiet solitude.	Mother always said my wandering mind would get me killed one day. Apparently she really believed that, as she put every ounce of energy she had into keeping me on the least interesting path possible. It was an absolute hell having that woman hovering over me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So when the mysterious Night Princess announced she was looking for another personal handmaiden, I jumped at the opportunity for a better job and space from my mother. The job was easily the best I'd worked in my life. The work was far simpler and easier on my body than my job in the scullery, and I was making enough money to get a table at the Apogee Tavern once a week. But I think the best part was how lovely the royal family and Penelope the Night Princess were. To them, I was a friend more than I was a servant, and I spent many an afternoon trading gossip with the queen or narrating the twin princes' make-believe swordfighting. But my curiosity clung to the back of my head and wouldn't let go. I was Penelope's twelfth replacement handmaiden in almost a month. Why did she go through so many so quickly? The answer, as I would discover, would be nothing I could have expected. I was bringing up Penelope's freshly cleaned robes one evening; I had completed a few other chores preemptively so I was bringing them up a little bit earlier than normal. I knocked on the door to Penelope's room and said, "Penelope? Sorry to interrupt your studies, but I have your clothes." There was no response. I was just about to turn around and take a short break when I noticed the door was unlocked. Confused, I slowly opened the door and saw that Penelope was nowhere to be found. I feared the worst as I shut the door behind me, until a fragrance wafted through the air and caught my attention. It smelled of lavender oil, candle wax, and cinnamon. I traced the scent to its origin, only to be stopped in front of a bookshelf. My mind spurred on by the many mystery books I read as a child, I ran my fingers along the row of spines and stopped on a tome regarding cartography. A subject I knew from my conversations with Penelope that she despised. I gave the book a little tug, causing it to freeze in place as it leaned out of the shelf without falling. The bookshelf moved inward and rolled away, revealing a descending staircase. I quickly signed the cross on my chest before grabbing a lantern and heading down the stairs. The fragrance grew stronger the further down I went and the walls slowly shifted from rough hewn stone to carved and polished obsidian. Eventually, the staircase came to a stop, depositing me outside of an entrance to another room. I peeked my head around the corner, and almost had to force my heart to start beating again at the sacrilegious sight before me. The room was filled with at least fifty other women, all of whom were naked as the day they were born and exploring their companions' bodies with roaming hands and tongues. Some of them were covered in oils, others had wax dripped onto their back, some were tied up, some were all three at once. I couldn't look away; my insides felt warmer than the summer sun as the chorus of soft moans drowned out all of the thoughts running around in my head. I didn't even react when I heard Penelope's voice whisper from behind me, "Welcome to my sanctuary, sweet Delilah." "Penelope, what--what is this?" Penelope began moving her hands down my stomach as she spoke, a move I had not even a hint of interest in stopping. "Do you remember four years ago, when I was possessed by a demon? Well, the exorcist wasn't as successful at expelling them as the public was told, so instead we came to an agreement: the demon would leave and return to their master, if I would take a sliver of their power to feed my sinful urges of my own accord." Penelope's hands had worked themselves under my dress, and yet I found the willpower in me to keep listening. "You see, sweet Delilah, from the moment I came of age, my mind was a torrent of lust. A dance of the most sinful visions of women possible--one I never wanted to end. And so, every chance I have, I am down here, giving these lovely things a peak into the depths of my mind and baptizing them into truly free creatures. A congregation that follows the doctrine of unrestrained pleasure with a fervency no bishop could ever match." My dress had been torn to shreds, but the heat running wild in my body made it impossible to determine if that was my fault or Penelope's. "Are they...these women... are they like me? H--handmaidens?" "Some of them are. There are political prisoners, failed assassins, guards who earned an early retirement, and many more. But the demon's blessing gives them all one thing in common: those who enter this room lose any interest in coming back out." Penelope gently turned my face towards hers, causing me to look directly into her sharp green eyes. "So tell me, sweet Delilah: do you want to leave this room?" I felt like I was going to explode as I said, "Never." Penelope grinned wickedly as she began kissing me, grabbing a fistful of my hair to pull me in. When she finally pulled back, my mind was filled with the lustful imagery she spoke of. Shaky visions of more women writhing in pleasure filled my vision, overlapping with the actual scenes of intercourse I was witnessing. I began grinding against Penelope's leg in excitement as she leaned against me. "Welcome to my flock," she whispered in my ear. "Now go be a good little lamb."	2022-10-15T16:07:59	2022-10-15T14:56:31	94	70
[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.....	"And yours?" the divine agent asked me. A weariness in the question betrayed some edge of boredom or frustration in dealing with petty mortals. "Power negation?" I ventured. "Taken," I was informed, flatly. "Power theft?" "Taken." "Domination, then." I was aware of the purpose of these powers and figured the direct approach could work. "Taken." By that point, I was as frustrated as the divine. Reflecting on the state of the world to be ruled, I thought about the one thing it perhaps needed most. "Consequences." "Excuse me?" the divine asked as if brought out of a stupor. "I want the power to bring consequences. Divine judgment, if you will." The glowing wells that passed for the divine's eyes narrowed into bedight points. "Granted. Fortune be with you." The following days where interesting, to say the least. I watched as divine strength could mangle a car well before he could throw it, and when his joints gave out, it was gruesome. (I'd find out later that I was only partially responsible.) Divine speed earned herself some well-deserved friction burns before she collided with an oncoming 18-wheeler. I might feel sorry for her but moreso for the horrified driver. Divine dominance actually had to manage the people he controlled, and it turns out not many people are well suited to management. He quit after twenty or so. Same with divine presence. Sure, she was popular, the biggest celebrity in an era, but the constant demands for attention drove her into hermitage inside of six months. She's in her mansion living off of the gifts her fans leave at her front gate. Poor divine flight, shot down for violating sovereign air space. Divine greed, the guy who nicked Power Theft? Arrested for arson. His home country decided not to execute him in favor of using him to power a hydroelectric plant. Divine wealth, the multi-quintillionaire? Assassinated, and none too subtly. Turns out the world's economic powers get very edgy around someone who can literally buy whole nations. Maybe I feel the worst for divine fortitude. Can't be hurt, physically or mentally. But without pain, specifically discontent, he doesn't do much because he's free from want and the drive to change anything. At least his Food Dares YouTube channel has over 2 million subscribers, though the idea of scorpion pepper mukbang makes me flinch. Oh right, divine denial, the Power Negation guy? We're actually good friends. We were both aiming for ways to stop the other 98 from screwing over the world. Once the threat was over, I turned my influence to the world political stage. I keep Denial in my back pocket to stop me from doing anything heinous, but things have gotten a lot better now that corrupt officials and executives are getting what they deserve.	God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible “I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.” People were silent at first. Then they started laughing. “Look at this weirdo.” “Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing. We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me, “You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.” I looked at him and grinned, “That’s okay with me.” I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!” I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said “Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ” I think again. “Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud. “YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating. “Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down. “It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games. “Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile. “IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above. “Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back, “Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.” He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up. “It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train. “Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing. I raise my hand at him and say “Give.” Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?” I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.” He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.” I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?” The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.” He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me. “You’re disgusting.” I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house. “I gotta think of a name for myself.”	2022-11-17T07:41:47	2022-11-17T07:32:46	772	12
[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.....	"Mimic other superpowers?" "Taken, Number 7." "Damn, thought that was a creative one..." "It wasn't. Next choice?" "Negate other sup-" The scientist cuts me off. "18. Next?" I sighed. What's left? Teleportation, mind reading, super strength... I'm sure those are all done. "Control computers with my mind?" "43. And 48 is to disable electronics at will, 14 is to control electricity, and 93, which I thought was good, was to control and change the information communicated through any form of technology. No dice." She looked at her clipboard, then at the clock on the wall. "Time is wasting. And yes, #3 was time manipulation, but we nerfed it because it was a bit overpowered." "Come on, can you help me out a little? You must have some ideas!" "No." "Is it against the rules or something?" "No, but it won't matter if I did, and I'm frankly exhausted. Ive been dealing with psychos, megalomaniacs, idiots--I mean, who chooses the power to control cheese? What does that even mean?--and now you. I just want to get to the bunker before all hell breaks loose with enough energy to take a shower. Now choose!" "Sheesh. Ok." I massaged my temples. Why doesn't anyone have any sort of compassion or empat... Wait. That's it! 99 others with their own super powers, ready to battle it out no matter the cost... what if? "I want the power to instill people, regardless of proximity or other limitations, with a strong and permanent sense of empathy, compassion, and the ability to think critically."	"Welcome to the Super Powers Depot, what can i do for you?" The clerk never looked up from their smart device. They couldn't be any more disinterested in the task at hand yet were still complying with the bare essentials of the minimum wage day laborer. "My name's John. I was chosen to come pick out a free super power..." "...yeah, we got a few left over. You want the spaghetti hands?" "I'm sorry, i said, super powers." "Yeah, being able to make ones own dinner let alone a constant stream of spaghetti based dishes is a super power. You don't like ending world hunger one bowl at a time?" "I guess that's not so bad when you put it like that but i was thinking something...more helpful to others." "You're right, ending world hunger helps no one John. How about the ability to choose where you want to go to eat no matter who you're talking to and the choice you make is always 100 percent agreeable for everyone involved?" The clerk looked up from their device. The pain on their face was unmistakable. They were locked between too many choices on where to order food from. Stuck in an endless scroll on a food ordering app. The clerk thought that seeing a picture of the food he desired would help but, nothing struck them as looking delicious. Nothing could satisfy the unknowable cravings of his stomach. "My god, how long have you been stuck like this?" John took the smart device from in front of the clerk and began the most important scroll of his life. And then the doubt creeped in. "Wait, you haven't given me my powers yet. I don't know you or what you like; what your allergies are; spice preference? I don't...i can't make this decision...i just--it's impossible." The clerk fell to their knees behind the counter. Hunger pangs starting to bang against their stomach lining like a heavy metal drummer taking over the song. They were able to weakly get a few words out. "The power...is in you. It has been...all...along." John gazed upon the smart device once more and the decision immediately came to mind. "How bout this one?" John laid the phone down on the counter and the clerk slowly stood back up. Tears began to stream down their face. "It's perfect. The balance of sides to entrees; the prices are all within a reasonable stretch of my budget. Thank you." The clerk was finally able to place their order. As super powered beings put on impressive displays of power, over the years they drop to their knees and one by one they succumb to the only one capable of running the world. The only person who was capable of making the toughest decisions and saving everyone from the cold, bitter realm that is hunger. The one who brings salvation from starvation in any given situation: John.	2022-11-17T10:09:57	2022-11-17T07:26:44	35	14
[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.....	"Well, come on, we don't have all day." I thought it was funny the adjudicator mentioned this, because it had in fact already taken all day to get to me. The first 30 or 40 people chose quickly, and then things ground to a halt as the powers became more obscure and less useful. I waffled for a good minute... and then I asked a question. "...How specific can I be?" "What?" the adjudicator furrowed their brow. They were annoyed at the fact that I was negotiating when we were already running so far behind. They continued. "As specific or as broad as you like. It can be anything as long as you follow the two rules." "Yes, yes... No godly powers and it has to be unclaimed." I scratched my chin. What was useful to me? What could I use every day that was mundane enough to go unchosen but powerful enough to be worth it? A moment later, I had it. "Teleportation." The adjudicator immediately balked. The rest of the candidates sighed. One cursed me, begging me to stop messing around and pick something for real. "You obviously can't have teleportation-" "-because someone already took it." I interrupted. I held a finger in the air. "...but my telelportation power only works if I'm standing in a McDonald's, and it can only teleport me to any other McDonald's." Silence. Everyone was speechless. The adjudicator let out a deep, long "Hmmmm..." "I'll allow it. It's unique enough." I made some enemies that day. Mostly in the upper 50s and beyond, and almost certainly because they hadn't thought of trying it first.	"Welcome to the Super Powers Depot, what can i do for you?" The clerk never looked up from their smart device. They couldn't be any more disinterested in the task at hand yet were still complying with the bare essentials of the minimum wage day laborer. "My name's John. I was chosen to come pick out a free super power..." "...yeah, we got a few left over. You want the spaghetti hands?" "I'm sorry, i said, super powers." "Yeah, being able to make ones own dinner let alone a constant stream of spaghetti based dishes is a super power. You don't like ending world hunger one bowl at a time?" "I guess that's not so bad when you put it like that but i was thinking something...more helpful to others." "You're right, ending world hunger helps no one John. How about the ability to choose where you want to go to eat no matter who you're talking to and the choice you make is always 100 percent agreeable for everyone involved?" The clerk looked up from their device. The pain on their face was unmistakable. They were locked between too many choices on where to order food from. Stuck in an endless scroll on a food ordering app. The clerk thought that seeing a picture of the food he desired would help but, nothing struck them as looking delicious. Nothing could satisfy the unknowable cravings of his stomach. "My god, how long have you been stuck like this?" John took the smart device from in front of the clerk and began the most important scroll of his life. And then the doubt creeped in. "Wait, you haven't given me my powers yet. I don't know you or what you like; what your allergies are; spice preference? I don't...i can't make this decision...i just--it's impossible." The clerk fell to their knees behind the counter. Hunger pangs starting to bang against their stomach lining like a heavy metal drummer taking over the song. They were able to weakly get a few words out. "The power...is in you. It has been...all...along." John gazed upon the smart device once more and the decision immediately came to mind. "How bout this one?" John laid the phone down on the counter and the clerk slowly stood back up. Tears began to stream down their face. "It's perfect. The balance of sides to entrees; the prices are all within a reasonable stretch of my budget. Thank you." The clerk was finally able to place their order. As super powered beings put on impressive displays of power, over the years they drop to their knees and one by one they succumb to the only one capable of running the world. The only person who was capable of making the toughest decisions and saving everyone from the cold, bitter realm that is hunger. The one who brings salvation from starvation in any given situation: John.	2022-11-17T09:26:30	2022-11-17T07:26:44	22	14
[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.....	As the hundredth candidate I knew I’d have to be clever, but the idea occurred somewhere around the 30th person. Marie had asked for the ability to steal powers. She was told that the ability would only be temporary and we all knew that killing or capturing the others was not allowed. She ended up choosing something else. Many others went the same way after that. Now that we knew that this wasn’t a contest of strength but one of influence, the power selections changed. People asked to be able to influence others or the larger world. Simple enough, but effective. They would be my biggest competition. Or so I thought. The power to try again. I hadn’t thought of it, but it was incredibly useful. No failures and the potential to resist any power with a direct effect. This James fellow had also thought this through. Nadya requested the willpower to overcome any obstacle. I was surprised that it was claimed at 84, but good to know that someone had it. The power to manifest imagination was chosen by Abdul at 93. His constructs were limited in duration, but that was fine with him. Ultimate repair came right before me. Also a good strategy. Dana would be able to effectively grant themselves immortality in addition to being able to fix anything mechanical. Finally, it was my turn. The best part about going last was that it would make this power even better. “I want the knowledge and skills to learn and master any ability that I’ve encountered.” “GRANTED.” Instantly, I knew it had worked. I knew what everyone else was capable of and how to gain their skills. It wasn’t going to be easy, but thanks to some other choices, I’d have all the time I’d need.	"Welcome to the Super Powers Depot, what can i do for you?" The clerk never looked up from their smart device. They couldn't be any more disinterested in the task at hand yet were still complying with the bare essentials of the minimum wage day laborer. "My name's John. I was chosen to come pick out a free super power..." "...yeah, we got a few left over. You want the spaghetti hands?" "I'm sorry, i said, super powers." "Yeah, being able to make ones own dinner let alone a constant stream of spaghetti based dishes is a super power. You don't like ending world hunger one bowl at a time?" "I guess that's not so bad when you put it like that but i was thinking something...more helpful to others." "You're right, ending world hunger helps no one John. How about the ability to choose where you want to go to eat no matter who you're talking to and the choice you make is always 100 percent agreeable for everyone involved?" The clerk looked up from their device. The pain on their face was unmistakable. They were locked between too many choices on where to order food from. Stuck in an endless scroll on a food ordering app. The clerk thought that seeing a picture of the food he desired would help but, nothing struck them as looking delicious. Nothing could satisfy the unknowable cravings of his stomach. "My god, how long have you been stuck like this?" John took the smart device from in front of the clerk and began the most important scroll of his life. And then the doubt creeped in. "Wait, you haven't given me my powers yet. I don't know you or what you like; what your allergies are; spice preference? I don't...i can't make this decision...i just--it's impossible." The clerk fell to their knees behind the counter. Hunger pangs starting to bang against their stomach lining like a heavy metal drummer taking over the song. They were able to weakly get a few words out. "The power...is in you. It has been...all...along." John gazed upon the smart device once more and the decision immediately came to mind. "How bout this one?" John laid the phone down on the counter and the clerk slowly stood back up. Tears began to stream down their face. "It's perfect. The balance of sides to entrees; the prices are all within a reasonable stretch of my budget. Thank you." The clerk was finally able to place their order. As super powered beings put on impressive displays of power, over the years they drop to their knees and one by one they succumb to the only one capable of running the world. The only person who was capable of making the toughest decisions and saving everyone from the cold, bitter realm that is hunger. The one who brings salvation from starvation in any given situation: John.	2022-11-17T11:39:55	2022-11-17T07:26:44	20	14
[WP] Adapt a famous fairy tale so it has a realistic ending. I'm about to go to sleep. Bedtime story!... Except that I won't read anything until I get up. Happy Saturday.	"She should be coming soon," Grandma Hood faintly whispered to herself. "Oh, it's been so long, I wonder what she looks like!" KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK The rapping of a gentle fist on the door broke her train of thought. Looking through the peephole, Grandma Hood saw her granddaughters beautiful face. It had been five years, and despite her growth, there was no way she could forget what her own flesh and blood looked like. Letting her in, she took the whistling teapot of the stove and steeped her best tea leaves, and they caught up on everything. "Oh dear, I hope you were alright walking through the woods... I had heard some howling before," Gam-Gam said. "Oh it wasn't a problem. I just saw one wolf, but he was solitary. They only really hunt in packs, and they'd have trouble taking me down alone. It was probably just looking to find a mate to start another pack. You know, acting on its biological imperatives and all. Not a problem at all," Red replied. "That's nice dear," Gam-gam smiled as she sipped her tea. Little Red Riding Hood	BONG The bell began ringing, and Cinderella suddenly took off with a fright. BONG Her step-mother and step-sisters tried to prevent her from coming to Prince Charming's ball, but she was able to secure a last minute pay-day loan and rent a dress and carriage. BONG Unfortunately the rental was only until midnight, and she had to get it in before she was upcharged for the beatiful sparking gown. BONG "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed to the Prince, escaping from his grasp. BONG Her glass slippers sparkled, but they tore her feet to shreds, and running was not as easy as it was to walk at the beginning of the night. BONG One shattered on her foot and sliced deep into her foot causing her to bleed profusely. BONG She threw the other off and ran to her carriage. ^BONG ^^BONG ^^^BONG ^^^^BONG "To the shop!" she directed. As the horses trotted to the rental location, her foot was starting to sting as blood soaked the floor. "Oh no, Ms. Ferry will not like this at all..." she worried aloud to no one. Inspecting the damage, Ms. Ferry snorted her disapproval. "That will be a cleaning charge of double the cost of the rental for the gown and the carriage, and you'll have to reimburse the full about for the slippers! And you're late! that means you need to pay ANOTHER additional day's worth of rental. It's here on paper, you signed it!" Cinderella was in tears. She had no way of paying her the money, and her meager pay was to be given to the loan sharks. She fell to the ground sobbing, her fate sealed by contracts she had not read thoroughly. --------- Meanwhile, at the castle, Prince Charming found a hot little number in a tight dress and totally banged her. ------ Cinderella eventually had to resort to selling her body to pay back her loans and died early in a drive by shooting. She is survived by her four children, whom she loved very much.	2014-03-29T11:13:38	2014-03-29T10:11:26	50	22
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray.	"I made this," the scientist mumbled. "Back when I was human." "It's OK to admit to being an uploaded human," replied his colleague. "There must be some others on this planet. People are beginning to be more accepting of uploaded biologicals. There's a whole pre-biological pride movement starting. Your secret is safe with me." "My quantum state... it was entangled with it. Everyone will know. I can't face it." It was said without tone. There were no tears to give. No emotion undeleted. The downloaded religious belief module came to the foreground. The prayers continued as the rest of the scientist system shut down.	A few disclaimers, this is my first response to a post and I am writing on mobile so sorry if the editing is weird. I had grown used to the silence of the universe. I spent my time hiding from my civilization, traveling from galaxy to galaxy in a never ending patrol. During the war, my people called me a hero, an unstoppable force of justice, but they forgot their adoration quickly They saw the reports of carnage and destruction. Yet all the people cared for was blood, and I skillfully gave them what they wanted. When we destroyed the last outpost of corruption, the people of my nation celebrated. Slowly their adoration turned to distrust and paranoia. News circulated that I showed no mercy, and that I ignored calls for surrender. Videos began surfacing of my tactics during the war. The people once again wanted blood, this time it was my own. They did not realize that I did what I did to protect them. All I cared about was their safety. I knew to save them I would have to decimate the corruption. I am their savior and purifier. I would do anything to protect them, and I have. To protect them I had to leave them. I travelled the galaxy, ever vigilant, determined to protect my people should the need arise. I an age in search of a danger that did not seem to be there. The danger arrived in a quiet way. A small ship drifted into the corner of my scanners. I hailed it in all frequencies of my people with no response. After my many years of patrolling I found more corruption in the universe.	2014-11-09T00:38:06	2014-11-09T00:24:27	28	13
[WP] Legends tell of the mighty alchomancer, a magic user who becomes more powerful the more intoxicated they are. They are currently blackout drunk.	"He did what?" "The whole thing, six days." "And it's going? Like, it works?" "Yeah, nothing in, everything out. Perfect." "So he just....created it out of nothing?" "Exactly. No equivalent exchange, no loss of fibre, the whole thing's as real as you or I, just....trapped in the bottle." "Fucking hell. Six days you said?" "Can you imagine the hangover?" "Yeah, it's been all day and he's only starting to wake up now, his head's going to be killing him." "I can't believe he made a whole universe." "In a fucking wine bottle. What kind of creatures are going to be normal growing in a fucking wine bottle?"	"Rouse the guard, Franklin. Old man Gandorf's flying his dragon drunk again." "Nope. It's not my turn, boss. Go pry Vallanor away from his dice games and let him lead the men." "Vallanor's missing. You're up." The commander of the guard tossed a chest plate at Franklin, who managed to catch it out of the air just a few inches short of his pointy nose. "This is bullshit, Commander, and you know it." "Franklin, did I ask for lip? Do I look like I am in the mood for lip? Do you think that marrying my sister gives you a right to spout such foul-mouthed insubordination? Suit up and assemble the men, or I'll have you hoisted out of bed on the tip of a pike." Five minutes later, Franklin stood outside the barracks before a cadre of dead-eyed guardsman, doing his best not to yawn. One of the men had bear-patterned pajamas sticking out of his greaves. "You know the drill," said Franklin. "Man the harpoon ballistas, call if you see him, and try not to hit Gandorf himself, unless you want to explain to the King why his top Alcomancer's got a hole the size of a buckler through his torso." The guards grumbled, hefting their shields. "All right," said Franklin. "Come on in, now. Huddle up." Everyone crowded around, each man extending a gauntlet to stack atop the hands of the others. "Gimme a 'Fuck You Gandorf,' on three," said Franklin. "One -- Two --"	2016-01-22T11:32:24	2016-01-22T10:06:25	493	29
[WP] You're the only vampire in Barrow, Alaska. Eighty-two days of straight sunlight starts tomorrow.	As vampires, we are creatures of the shadow. The moralities of the common man do not apply to us, as we are exempt from such trivialities of mortal right and wrong. But that doesn't mean we are savages. among out own kind, we do have laws. The number one law, the law that shall never be broken, is to never kill another vampire. There are loopholes, however. And technically shipping your nephew in a crate to Barrow Alaska, where technically the sun will kill him instead of your hand, all because he technically agreed to let you pay for college and you chose the two year community college there called Ilisagvik does not, in fact, count as murder. But to me, heir to the vampire throne, it may as well be the same. Because inside that crate, currently on a cargo flight heading due north to where the moon don't shine, I was destined to die from ultraviolet exposure. All while Uncle Gleb, the two faced, sheep blood sucking, traitorous, son of a bat bitch prepares to steal the throne. It's been common knowledge that my father's power has been dwindling for years. That he has been approaching an Eternal Rest, that the crown shall transfer to me, his only son, to rule for the next millennium. And what a millennium it would have been- vampires are somewhat behind on technology, and I was ready to renovate the kingdom! It was time to start GPS tracking human herds for easier hunting, using cell phones instead of messenger bats, and institute some much needed dentistry. I felt the plane land at two in the morning, flinching as I brushed against a silver nail that had been used to nail the crate together, the plywood itself made from thousands of crushed crucifixes. Already my elbows had been bunrned from brushing against the interior of the box, where the newspapers my uncle had so courteously provided had failed to insulate me from the material. But even as I entered this cursed land of sunshine and cold and misery, even as I was loaded onto a truck and driven far into the countryside, I felt my father's power trickling to my veins as I knew he breathed his last. And I knew that despite my distance, despite my uncle's treachery, I was now king, leader of the vampires by birthright. That both the throne and revenge were mine for the taking, provided I survived the next eighty two days. * Part 2 coming soon and will be posted on here and /r/leoduhvinci** [PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/4frp5o/wp_youre_the_only_vampire_in_barrow_alaska/) You should read my best work, [Life Magic](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/3u1uhv/leo_comments_on_wp_in_a_world_where_wizardry_is_a/), while you wait! Thirty awesome chapters and running of demon fighting magicians! By Leo	In the vampire community, I am what's known as 'fresh.' Meaning just turned. It happened this past winter when those that could fled north for the long nights. This will be my first time experiencing what they call the Bright Summer, when the sun only sets for a few hours each night. All of the old elites who have been undead since the 1500s have all flown south for the summer already. I, however, wasn't fortunate enough to have invested in the British East India Tea company in its hayday or whatever, and I don't have billions in the bank. So I don't have a private jet to whisk me off to Tierra Del Fuego to enjoy the 18-hour nights. Now I'm the only one of my kind left up here. Barrow is a small town. There aren't that many people who want to live in the Arctic Circle eating whale blubber all day. The few non-native residents are generally scientists studying ice or service members from the Coast Guard station. It's not the type of town where a resident like myself can just disappear unnoticed. There would be search parties after me within the day, and that would lead to lots of things that I don't want anyone to find. So instead, I need to die. It's simple enough to do: a shotgun wound to the head. Suicide is depressingly common up here, though for most people it's the long winter nights that get them down. I do it out on my porch, after making sure that my neighbor is outside taking advantage of the balmy above-freezing weather. He naturally calls the doctor, who arrives and feels for my pulse before pronouncing me dead at the scene. He didn't need to know that I hadn't had a pulse for the past few months, though. Then I'm zipped up into a bodybag just in time for my face to begin healing again. If it's not silver or a wooden stake, then my body can now bounce back from pretty much anything. When night finally falls around 10:30, I slipped out of the back of the Sheriff's office (which is really just a one-room hut with a radio). It's empty, of course: Sheriff is back home with his family for a good night sleep. As I mentioned, Barrow is not a very large town, and security isn't too tight. I leave the back door open, and I tear a giant hole in the body bag using my fangs. The wolves rarely come into town here, but it's not unheard of. It will at least give them a rational explanation for where my body has gone. Finally I begin the long trek 'home.' Well, I shouldn't say trek: it's actually a swim through frigid waters. Thankfully I can't really feel anything anymore. I've found myself a nice isolated cave on a pleasant little rock to the north of town. Under the guise of going out on fishing trips in my boat, I've managed to squirrel away enough books and movies to keep me entertained over the next sixth months. And not to mention the seal blood: gallons and gallons of it. It tastes like eating moldy socks compared to fresh human blood, but it'll have to do for now. I buy it off of the native hunters, telling them that blood sausage makes for tasty bait. They don't believe me, given that my boat usually comes back empty. But at least they don't suspect what's really going on. At least, I hope not. I settle in and check my supplies. It's almost 3, so the sun should be coming up soon. And the days will only get shorter. My solar panels are set up, but hidden by enough mounds of ice and rock that no one will ever see them unless they fly directly over. I'm ready to hibernate. And after this... well, I guess I'll have to wait until the days are a bit longer before I can begin heading south. But what is a few months to an immortal? I'm looking forward to getting back to civilization and getting a real taste for living with humans again.	2016-04-20T11:12:13	2016-04-20T10:18:02	755	160
[WP] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income, companies have to convince you to work for them. Credit to u/SearingEnigma & u/abkleinig for the idea.	"Why won't you just leave me alone?!" "We need you David! You've got the best test scores we've ever seen!" "I've told you, I'm not interested! Look for Francis Smith, he got exactly the same score as I did!" "We already have, he's working as a rocket scientist for NASA right now. Please David, it's not everyday that a solid C+ student comes along in this world!" I seriously regretted not revising for that exam, if I had actually known what the correct answers were I could have deliberately chosen incorrectly. By some horrible stroke of luck I had managed a C+ in the final multiple choice exam whereas everybody else successfully failed and went on to a life of leisure. I could see these people were not going to leave me alone. "Fine I'll take the job." "Thank you David. It's been so long since the hospital has had a brain surgeon, let's get you scrubbed up." ----------- [Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!	Frank Hayes, CEO of Logitech, had little to do on the morning of Tuesday, May 7th. He had many underlings to take care of the necessities -- with over one thousand employees, Logitech was one of the biggest employers in the U.S. So he watched the 24-hour cable news anchors discuss the latest developments in Washington. "We're interrupting our coverage to go to a live broadcast of Senate Majority Leader Ted Collins as he makes a speech to the public regarding the Necessities Act. . ." Senator Collins had the crowd fired up in what was more of a political rally than a regular speech by a sitting Senator. Not much of a surprise to most insiders, given that the event was organized by the Committee to Elect Collins President. He could barely be heard over the chanting of his own name. ". . . but this is just the beginning! Last year the unemployment rate in this country was 60 percent!" Loud booes from the assembled audience. "And whose fault is it? The corporate moneygrubbers on Wall Street, people like Frank Hayes!" Louder booing yet for the notorious CEO of Logitech. "Well I'm here to tell you, that's about to change!" The jeers switched to excited cheering at the drop of a hat. "It's a disgrace that nearly forty percent of Americans still have jobs! The Necessities Act was just the beginning. With the Cost of Living Act, we will provide a rise in the basic income each year, allowing it to keep pace with inflation. And this means no person in America will ever have to work again!" The crowd went wild in a literal sense. Some observers described the events that followed the speech as riots. *** Frank Hayes turned the television off as Collins walked off the stage. He picked up the telephone and dialed the building operator. "Operator, how can I help you?" "Put me through to our man in D.C." said Frank. He waited a few minutes. "Hello?" came the voice from the other end of the line, after a short time. "Teddy! Excellent speech there, you really had them going. . ."	2016-04-21T06:21:20	2016-04-21T05:19:58	200	39
[WP] Its the year 2277, genetic modification is legal, but not without its controversies. Your problem? Your parents are hardcore furries.	Daddy always tells me I'm lucky to have been born in 2273, a time where dreams can truly come fruition. Pain and suffering have almost entirely been removed from life, replaced with augments and genetic modifications to make people into something more than people- we're whatever we want to be. I have friends who replace flesh with metal to become stronger, invincible almost! How can you lose a fight when you're made of metal? Daddy is a genetic engineer himself, praised for his work in the field. In fact, he's considered one of the best ever! Isn't that incredible? My daddy is famous! He's different, though, because he loves animals the way people love people. He always talks about how people should look more like animals, and it's strange. The adults praise my daddy, but kids my age think he's crazy and weird, always working and never out having fun or trying to meet a new mommy. He told me today that we're going to have a lot of fun! It's so great since I usually don't get to see him, because he's always working. He says he has a surprise for me, too. I'm so excited. I even get to bring Alexander, my puppy, with me. It's going to be the best day ever. I can't wait. ------ thanks for reading, check out /r/resonatingfury if you're bored!	"Hey Steve can I borrow twenty credits." John asked his step-dad who was sitting in the kitchen. "Now John, you know I don't like it when you call me Steve. We've been over this." "Jesus...Moon Wolf...may I please borrow twenty credits to go to a movie." Moon Wolf bared his teeth in a broad smile. He was a five and half foot tall grey wolf human hybrid. Or according to John, a monstrosity. Moon Wolf walked on his back legs like a normal human and for the most part his hands were still human, just covered in grey fur. "Sure thing son." He said reaching into his pants pocket. The word son made him cringe but he didn't want to risk losing the twenty credits by making a scene. "So where are you going tonight?" His large grey tail swished back and forth, obviously getting excited at the prospect of not having a teenager in the house for a few hours. "To the movies then over to Eric's." John said. "How about you just stay the night over at your friends?" He asked. "Oh, uh, yeah of course that would be great. Thanks Moon Wolf!" Moon Wolf stretched his fur covered arms and went in for a hug. John grimaced but hugged his step-dad. John went back to his bedroom to get a bag packed for the evening when his mom poked her head in the door. She had modified her body to look like a red wolf. They were extinct but she had always loved how they looked. John remembered when they would go to the zoo and spend hours watching them run around playing. "Honey, are you going out tonight?" "Moon Wolf said I could stay the night at Eric's." John said excitedly. "I think it is so sweet that you two are finally getting along." She said happily patting him on the head. "Hey babe! Get the toys out I called the pack and they'll be here tonight! It's gonna get weird!" He shouted from across the house and howled for good measure. If a red wolf could get more red John's mother would have. "Here's an extra twenty credits...love you honey." John walked out of the house trying to not make eye contact with Moon Wolf, who was already unrolling a black tarp on the living room floor. --- I need a shower...but you can check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!	2016-06-15T05:22:17	2016-06-15T03:43:20	782	571
[WP] You are an unimportant background character in Hogwarts. It's Harry Potter's third year and while he is off dealing with dementors and the imminent threat of Sirius Black, noone else seems to notice that Dumbledore has been replaced by a completely different old man except for you.	"I swear to you, I'm not making this up!" My friends stared at me silently, expressions ranging from skeptical to amused. "So you seriously think the professor has been replaced by someone else?" Fay asked, a smirk ghosted on her face. "How can you not? He's clearly a different person! Just look at him!" We all glanced over the piles of food on the Gryffindor table and watched our headmaster survey the students from his position at the sand of the great hall. "I don't know," Seamus mused, "He looks the same to me. He's got the beard and the glasses..." "Of course he's got those," I replied, "But his face is different. Look closely." My friends stared at me blankly. "Fine!" I said, "If you lot won't believe me, I'll have to prove it myself!" I stormed off before they could say anything. Later that day, right after Divination, I casually made my way down to Dumbledore's office, or at least where I heard his office was on the third floor. All I could see was a stone gargoyle, which I figured his some sort of secret passage. Unfortunately, I had no idea what the password was. I paced around for a bit in front of the gargoyle, trying to figure out what it could be, when the statue began to move. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the shiny robes of the not-Dumbledore. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not exactly planned what I would do when I saw him. My feet froze in place on the ground, and I wasn't sure if it was because of nerves or some sort of petrification spell. Regardless, I stared in horror as the not-Dumbledore approached me. It seems that the foot freezing was indeed the work of my own nerves, as I felt myself move at the request of the imposter. I followed him numbly into the office and took a seat in the overstuffed chair across from the desk. I stared at not-Dumbledore, my mouth hanging open like a banshee. It finally registered that he had said my name a few times. "I'm sorry, sir?" I finally said with a shake of my head. "I said, how are you enjoying your year at Hogwarts so far?" "Um, fine, I guess." I wasn't sure how to play this, or even if the not-Dumbledore knew I was on to him. "I think it would be best if we let go of the niceties and get to business. I know you suspect me of something." Well, that answered that question. I figured it wouldn't hurt to play dumb for a while longer. "I don't know what you mean, Professor." "You know that there's something different about me. You were talking about it with your friends this morning during breakfast." So much for playing dumb. "How did you know that?" "We have quite a few eyes working for us around Hogwarts. Several other locations as well, but we needn't get into detail about it." "We?" "Ah, yes. We. I would like you to meet a colleague of mine." The not-Dumbledore gestured towards a corner of the office and a man I hadn't noticed before stepped out of the shadows. He was an unassuming man, albeit a bit scruffy, but not someone I would be able to pick out from a crowd. Notably, however, he was not dressed in the robes that wizards normally wore, but in a simple buttoned shirt seen on muggles. "I am Alfonso Cuarón," he said, holding out his hand to shake. He had an accent, perhaps Mexican. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss..." "Brown," I replied, gripping his hand, "Lavender Brown." "Ah, Miss Brown. Please," he said helping me to my feet, "Come with us. All will be revealed soon enough." Edit:Thanks for the gold!	It was something about the color of his eyes. No... not the color... that was the same ice blue. It was the twinkle in his eyes that was different. It was missing. Snuffed out like the candles in the Great Hall each night. That was how I knew. It had happened overnight. This subtle transformation and when I saw it I felt like I had been hit directly in the center of my chest. I remember frantically looking from face to face at breakfast that morning but no one seemed to notice. I must have looked panicked because my friend shook me and another threw the crust of a croissant at my face. At that moment the imposter locked eyes with me. His smile faded only briefly before returning with gusto. He winked at me and then turned to Professor McGonagall who was frantically talking in his direction. Between the news of Sirius Black and this newest development with the Headmaster I felt weak kneed as I reluctantly followed my friends to class. Later that night... I adjusted my blue and silver scarf around my neck and followed my friends down the winding corridor back towards the large and enchanting room. As a muggleborn, that room will forever hold a special place in my heart because it was the only time I truly felt home. Here, under the glittering starry sky on the night I was sorted I finally felt like I was home. The Headmaster immediately became a shining beacon of safety and friendliness... strength. All of the things I was missing in my previous life. However, tonight was different because I had the overwhelming feeling of dread. I have been through some tough and rough times but this particular sensation has never felt so viciseral... so powerful. I could practically taste it now. Metallic. Bloody. Sickening. All at once, I found myself stepping through the open doors and, like my fellow students, went wide eyed at the sight of so many sleeping bags. There was absolutely a threat to the school and the professors knew it too! They had sensed it! They had seen that twinkle leave his eyes as I had seen it and they knew that our Headmaster had been replaced by... what? Well... it's not my place to act on something like this. I'm not like Potter... merrily skipping into dangerous situations right and left. Sticking his scarred forehead into places he didn't belong and into situations wasn't qualified to handle. Sorry... that's the jealousy speaking. He's an alright guy all things considered. Surely he, being as close as he is to Dumbledore, would have seen it. However, when I looked over at Harry and his friends and saw them in such close proximity to the thing that had replaced our Headmaster I knew that they hadn't a clue. This was because of Sirius Black and only because of Sirius Black. I kept my eye on him as he wove around the other students. My friends were distractingly speaking all at once. First about why we were here and what the Fat Lady had said when they finally found her. Then they moved on to more trivial topics of conversation. Ive never been great at multitasking so I stayed silent. After an entire day of looking, acting, and feeling ill my friends thankfully left me alone. Dumbledore spoke to no one until the lights went out. I slid under the covers and continued to watch him. He was talking in a hushed voice with the other professors. Then I saw it... he turned ever so slightly and the side of his face rippled. The wrinkles that were ever present smoothed into younger and darker skin. My eyes travelled up to meet his. Suddenly a very uncharacteristic look of alarm registered on the once again old man's face. He turned to the professors who seemed unchanged. They hadn't noticed. No one had noticed. I was alone and out in the open with this person who now knew beyond any shred of a doubt that I had seen through his disguise. I shook beneath my blankets. I rolled onto one side and across the gap saw Harry sleeping as the group of professors neared... as the imposter neared. Here was a boy being hunted by the most prolific villain to ever reach Azkaban and his greatest champion and protector was nowhere to be found. He was probably lying there thinking... worrying about the threat that laid outside those walls not knowing an even closer threat was standing a mere 6 feet away. A silvery wave of panic slid up my spine as I watched the imposter step ever closer to the scarred boy. I turned over. I couldn't watch. We aren't all born heroes. After some time I felt his presence. He was near... a faint shadow fell long enough for me to see the outline of his head and shoulder on my friend's blanket next to mine. There he stayed for several moments which stretched on for what seemed like eternity. I shut my eyes and when I opened them he was gone. I heard his softly shuffling footsteps moving slowly away. I allowed myself to take a long and shuddering breath... I hadn't noticed I'd been holding it. I didn't sleep at all that night.	2016-07-07T09:49:02	2016-07-07T09:46:23	1,003	23
[WP] God is actually just a mid level employee at Heaven Corporation who now has to explain to his superiors why the project he was spearheading, Humanity, has become such a mess.	"Please close the door behind you," Mammon said as Yahve entered his office. There were a few free chairs in the room, but Mammon motioned him to the small green one. Uncomfortable, no armrest. The hot seat, so to speak. Mammon was flanked by his two vice-presidents, Lucifer and Cthulhu. "Yahve, Yahve, Yahve," Mammon said, shaking his head. "Could you remind me where we are right now?" "H-Heaven Corporation?" stammered Yahve. "Yes! And what is the purpose of Heaven Corporation, hm? What is it that we do?" A heavy silence fell in the room. To be fair, it wasn't particularly clear what the answer was, it seemed to fluctuate depending on whoever held the most power at the time. "It's anarchy and chaos, right?" murmured Cthulhu to Lucifer. "Pretty sure it's misery and suffering," answered Lucifer. "SOCKS!" howled Mammon. "The goal of the universe is to produce socks. Have I not been abundantly clear about this?" "The economy has to run," nodded Lucifer, suddenly remembering. "So that's what the dryer portals were for," murmured Cthulhu. Yahve's throat tightened. Humanity had been his pet project, and all things considered he was pretty proud of it. Humans were an industrious people, smart, intelligent, and fascinatingly cooperative. Yahve thought the study of humanity may help him investigate a radical new concept, the concept of morality and goodness -- something that was unheard of, in Heaven Corporation. It was a very exciting prospect, but he had invested himself way too much into it, and when the numbers came in, they were catastrophic. "H-humans," Yahve pleaded, "are very productive. Their eco-economy is..." "Productive?" Mammon sneered. "How many socks have your people produced?" "Well, they need them to pr-protect their feet, so..." "How many feet do they have?" "T-two." "Two feet per human. Seven billion humans. That's what, fourteen billion socks?" "F-four billion per year, actually..." "Good grief! Look at our friend Yog-Sottoth in cubicle 36B. He made an artificial intelligence that converts entire star systems into socks. Quadrillions of socks per year. Now that's something. Or what about Moloch, who has engineered sock-shaped life forms? Now there's someone who thinks out of the box!" "My humans make a lot of other things... like, shirts, and pans, and brick houses, and..." "Who gives a shit about pans? What does anyone need them for? You're losing your focus, Yahve. Heaven Corporation is a sock company. A sock company! I don't want to hear any more nonsense about pans, you hear me? You're going to go out there and you're going to clear out these humans and make us some socks." "W-why are we making s-socks ag-again?" asked Yahve, who really didn't know his place. Mammon stared at him incredulously. "TO MAKE THE NUMBERS HIGHER!" he shouted, pointing to the chart in a corner of the room, where a line was proudly shooting up. Yahve slumped into his office chair, discouraged. Humanity would have to wait a bit. He had to make some socks. Boost the numbers. In Heaven Corporation, such was his purpose. Such was everyone's purpose.	I could feel their eyes burning into me as I fumbled with my briefcase. This wasn’t good. After reviewing the files I’d compiled as my defence last night, I realised I was on the brink of failure. Thousands of hours of work and huge sums of company assets were at risk of being wasted and my neck was in the noose for it all. I needed to find a solution during the meeting or I’d hang. I made a point to look up and face them, the weight of their eyes threatening to crush me at any moment. They all looked away. Bastards. They were my subordinates so I shouldn't have let them intimidate me but I knew they were waiting, waiting for the Big Boss so they could point fingers and help me dig my grave. If I’m honest, I’m not sure what happened, it all went wrong so fast. I took over the project after World War Two when the previous project manager, Frank, was dismissed. The project was classed as a loss and was expected to quietly fade away. It was perfect for me as my superiors weren’t expecting any results and I could sleep in my office and let the humans fuck up the world we’d built for them. But they didn’t fuck it up, well not at first, and soon I became invested in the success of this project. If I succeeded where no one thought possible then sky was the limit. I’d had my eye on a senior executive position, with a corner office and 40% salary bonus for a while and it was now within my grasp. What makes this situation worse is how well the project had been going. The internet and air travel made their world so much more open, they were finally realising that they were destroying their planet and how they could stop it and science was progressing so well that people were living longer and understanding more about the world we made for them. Sure there was the whole ‘cold war’ phase but every project manager has a few teething problems along the way and it resolved itself eventually. The thing is, I could understand if the project was ended by nukes. If it had gone out with a bang. That’s how Project Megon ended and its leader Chris even got a promotion. I think I would have seen a bullet coming at me before seeing the current threat to my project. Donald J Trump. President fucking Trump. This has turned into a horror story and I'm playing Stephen King. I allowed him to become a billionaire and to rebound from four bankruptcies and still I never learnt my lesson. I could have ended his presidential campaign early, way before the free will of the people kicked in, but I was too amused. It was like a comedy show, a caricature of human ego but now the jokes on me and nobody up here is laughing. I really did all I could to stop it. I send subliminal messages more than 200 million Americans suggesting that they vote for Hilary Clinton and still nothing. That wasn't a pleasant task in itself let me tell you. I swear that woman’s got more than just 2% lizard DNA, but I was sure it would work. But the people defied me and elected him anyway. The door to the conference room flew open, and in thundered the Big Boss, the largest and most terrifying being I had ever seen. My legs went to jelly and my bowels clenched for dear life but that thing was my boss so I forced myself to rise with the others. “Sit” It roared, clearly ill-tempered. This did not bode well for me. “Well? What have you got to explain yourself?” “I..I….I thought….I…” I’d lost the ability to think coherently and could feel the walls closing in. The others shifted in their seats uncomfortably, probably smelling death. The Big Boss was clearly furious. Its huge blue eyes turned red and I’m sure I could see steam rising from its body. “Don’t bother. I don’t have the patience for excuses, just tell me how you’re going to fix this or I swear I’ll make hell seem like a spa day.” Shit. This was the moment of truth and I didn’t have a solution. I racked my brain desperately for a way out. Something, anything would do. Suddenly everything clicked and my fear dissipated. I had my solution and I knew the project would be a success. That corner office was mine. It looked the Big Boss in its eyes and smiled. “Two words” I said. “Kayne 2020”.	2016-08-15T17:45:39	2016-08-15T17:01:50	188	31
[WP] In a world where people can only be killed by those they truly love, you are an assassin.	The hard part is figuring out who they really love. You’d be surprised at how many people hate their mothers, loathe their fathers, detest their siblings, resent their children, and profoundly wish that their spouses would die and burn in hell. And, of course, very few people actually love themselves. But anyway, once you’ve figured it out, it’s not so hard. Does your wife always make the coffee in the morning, and does she bring it to you in your favorite mug? Well, I polished the inside of that mug with poison. Look, it could have been her lipstick when she gave you a kiss - at least this way you die with a sweet rush of caffeine. Does your son have a water gun that you got him for his birthday? Well, I mocked up one just like it - except it shoots real bullets. The upside is, he'll never drive the neighbors crazy with his supersoaker again. Is your brother swinging by the airport, to pick you up in his car? I cut the brakes when he parked it, to help you with your bags. Hey, at least he’ll make it out alive. Your mom knows that you love her homemade blueberry pie. I swapped out the blueberries that she had in the fridge, but if it helps, I made sure that they’d still taste the same. Pets work too. Love your cat? Watch out for that scratch. I may have given her a manicure with my special brand of polish. Anyway, what I’m saying is, the best way to stay alive is to love no one at all. Don’t do it. Love kills. And that’s my professional opinion.	Coldness swamps the man, his hand trembles as it reaches for the knife sticking out of his ribs. His fingers only brush the blade before it stops and starts to twitch sporadically, the last spasms of a dying man. With cloudy eyes, he looks up to his attacker. He coughs at the sight of her. "Why?" croaks the man. Tears trail down her cheeks and she wipes at them with her forearm, careful not to spread the blood on her hands. "Because I love you," says the woman. The man blinks, his head cloudy. "What?" She pulls in closer, down on her knees next to the dying man. She takes his shaking hand and stills it. Her voice is soft. "Because I love you." "I... I don't understand," sobs the man, "Why would... why would you kill me because of that?" His voice cracks on the kill, the reality of the word striking him as he says it. She reaches forward, stroking his head as blood soaks her knees. "Because when you love someone," the woman says, "You want to share every moment with them. Every moment." Her hand crawls along the man's torso as she speaks, taking hold of the knife. "The happy ones. And the sad." The knife comes out with a squelch and the man gasps, both breath and blood escaping him. It only takes a few more seconds, but the woman stays by his side the whole time. When the last light in his eyes fade, the woman closes them and fold his arms over his chest. A little formality to make him look more dignified in his final moments. Wiping the last of her tears, the woman pulls out her phone and dials a number she has committed to memory. It rings once before a synthetized voice answers. "Good evening madam, how can we be of service?" "I need a clean-up." "Of course, madam. A maid will be visiting you shortly. Upon their confirmation your account will receive the appropriate funds. While you wait, would you like to peruse our latest selection?" "Please." Immediately, the call ends and her phone dings with a new message. A list of names, photos and numbers with a lot of zeros at the end. The woman pays the numbers no mind, her attention is on the pictures. It's an assortment of men from CEOs to truckers and their picture is the very best that anyone could find of them. They smile, share drinks, laugh and blow kisses to the camera. The woman looks at them and studies their eyes. Which of those smiles were honest and which were lies? Who most needed help? Who could she make the happiest?	2016-11-15T16:18:55	2016-11-15T15:38:47	139	14
[WP] Voyager 1 has unexpectedly returned to Earth. It was found at Cape Canaveral, with a note written in a strange, unknown language attached to it. Scientists have translated that note and have called a press conference to reveal their findings.	The press room was alive with the murmur of theories being bandied about by the assembled reporters. The picture of Voyager 1 behind the podium certainly sparked some lively conversation amongst the more conspiracy prone members. Everyone quieted as a senior press agent for NASA took the stage and another image, written in some odd pictographic form with a series of barcodes at the bottom was displayed. "Life outside our solar system does exist." The press began spewing questions only to have the press agent raise a hand asking for silence so that she may continue. "The note found one week ago along with Voyager 1 has been translated thanks to the cypher key included at the bottom. It reads." She paused to look to her right at the head researcher of the translation, he nodded assuring her once again that the note was translated accurately according to the directions the writer had included. "Please keep your pets in your own yard. It's bad enough you're so loud but there are leash laws in this sector of the universe. Thank you"	Today was the day. I'd been milling over the results for weeks now; we hadn't been allowed to come forward sooner. How would people react? Would there be mass hysteria? I wasn't sure if I could handle the consequences, but the people had the right to know. "Dr Samantha Clairmont will now announce the findings." the man said curtly. It was my turn. Stepping up to the little podium, I straightened my dress one last time and turned toward the 50 odd reporters. Pictures were taken along with many cameras and microphones pointed at me. Clearing my throat one last time, I opened my mouth to change the lives of so many. "Today, I'd like to share the translation of the note found in Cape Canaveral, along with the remains of Voyager 1." I began hesitantly. The pressure almost got to be too much. Why did I have to do this again? I was a scientist, not the public face of some company. "I will keep this short and simple," I continued. "The translation of the note will now be shown on the screen." As the screen showed the result, gasps ran through the crowd as well as a manly scream. For ten whole seconds, it remained silent. The seconds seemed to last forever. And then it blew up. Everyone started talking at once, though - as reporters - they were probably trained to remain silent during press conferences unless it was to ask a question. Yet no one could keep silent now. Everyone was shocked. Once more I sought to understand, so I turned around towards the screen to read it again myself. GREETINGS. WE ARE MANY, AND WE ARE LOST. WE HEARD OF YOUR PLANET. THE PROPHECY WILL BRING US TO YOU. WE ARE COMING. "They are coming," I whispered, my voice magnified by the microphone clipped to my shirt. This was a once in a lifetime discovery, but would there be a life after this lifetime? Would we all die when they came? What will happen to mankind? Questions kept running through my mind as I took my bottle of water, turned around, and walked away.	2016-11-27T10:00:43	2016-11-27T09:15:46	38	13
[WP] Voyager 1 has unexpectedly returned to Earth. It was found at Cape Canaveral, with a note written in a strange, unknown language attached to it. Scientists have translated that note and have called a press conference to reveal their findings.	People of Earth, The nature of this message is indeed shocking, and hints at a kind of being far, far beyond our sense of time and/or scale. In light of the divisive nature of this message, and it's implications, a decision has been made by committee to simply display the message for all mankind in every language, and allow each man to take his own meaning from it. Please be warned before viewing this translation, numerous researchers working on the project attempted self harm and/or fell into a deep melancholy. I beseech you, Please, keep a level head, the translations will now be displayed for a full five minutes. ********************************************** Attention of: Steward Deity-Consciousness 28g@p; Timeline 78sk; solar cluster hasu87. Concerning, carbon based servitors on hasu 87; sol 3; 78sk also known as earth. Please instruct them to keep their toys out of my yard. Regards, Aggregate energy being 2817rrd; timeline 78sk; solar cluster andro281. P.S. Please return the Bosons I loaned you. **********************************************************	Today was the day. I'd been milling over the results for weeks now; we hadn't been allowed to come forward sooner. How would people react? Would there be mass hysteria? I wasn't sure if I could handle the consequences, but the people had the right to know. "Dr Samantha Clairmont will now announce the findings." the man said curtly. It was my turn. Stepping up to the little podium, I straightened my dress one last time and turned toward the 50 odd reporters. Pictures were taken along with many cameras and microphones pointed at me. Clearing my throat one last time, I opened my mouth to change the lives of so many. "Today, I'd like to share the translation of the note found in Cape Canaveral, along with the remains of Voyager 1." I began hesitantly. The pressure almost got to be too much. Why did I have to do this again? I was a scientist, not the public face of some company. "I will keep this short and simple," I continued. "The translation of the note will now be shown on the screen." As the screen showed the result, gasps ran through the crowd as well as a manly scream. For ten whole seconds, it remained silent. The seconds seemed to last forever. And then it blew up. Everyone started talking at once, though - as reporters - they were probably trained to remain silent during press conferences unless it was to ask a question. Yet no one could keep silent now. Everyone was shocked. Once more I sought to understand, so I turned around towards the screen to read it again myself. GREETINGS. WE ARE MANY, AND WE ARE LOST. WE HEARD OF YOUR PLANET. THE PROPHECY WILL BRING US TO YOU. WE ARE COMING. "They are coming," I whispered, my voice magnified by the microphone clipped to my shirt. This was a once in a lifetime discovery, but would there be a life after this lifetime? Would we all die when they came? What will happen to mankind? Questions kept running through my mind as I took my bottle of water, turned around, and walked away.	2016-11-27T10:49:41	2016-11-27T09:15:46	19	13
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year.	The Grim Reaper entered the room, a floral wreath around his neck and the smell of piña-coladas wafting from his bones. He just came back from his semi millennial vacation, which he'd been waiting years for. Mr. Death had planned to visit Honolulu ever since that mass shark-attack during the annual surf championship. The warm sands and beautiful ocean struck a chord with the shadowy killer, so he made plans. He loved his vacation; the resort staff were incredibly helpful and polite, the Ocean Bar gave him free piña coladas, and there were no sharks to make him do work. Luckily, he came back just in time to see his apprentice do the deadly job. "So, James, who have you killed?" The Reaper asked, donning his black robes once more. "About 55 million, sir." "Anyone famous?" "Well... there are a few...." "Come on, tell me." "Fidel Castro." "Good, he was on my list." "Zsa Zsa Gabor." "She was pushing 99, wasn't she? Yep, definitely on the list." "Alan Rickman." "What?" "Alan Rickman, sir." "Wha-- why? How?" "Pancreatic cancer." "You gave him pancreatic cancer? That's painful! He was a great guy! Who else did you kill?" The Reaper asked, tapping his foot. "Prince." "The man of Purple Rain? When and how?" "April 14th, drug overdose." "What drug?" "Prescription." "Really, James?" "Yea..." "Anyone else?" "Cassius Clay, aka Muhammed Ali." "The Greatest? How?" "Err... Parkinsons and septic shock, sir." "That's horrible! He was fast as a hurricane, tough as a brick. He was so bad he makes medicine sick! Is that all of them?" The Reaper said, staring into the soul of his apprentice. "Err... many more..." "Tell me." "George Michael." "Eh. Wham! wasn't really a good band." "Doris Roberts." "Oh, come on, James! She was a nice old woman who baked cakes for the neighborhood kids! How did you kill her-- and please don't say a stroke." "Uh..." "Oh! That's sadistic, James! Anyone else?!" "You don't want to know." "Yes, I do." "Err..." "SPIT IT OUT!" Grim shouted, fire coming out of his every orifice. "Carrie Fisher." "Great. Just great. How?!" "She drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra." ***** It's what she would have wanted. ^^/r/Picklestasteg00d.	Everything had been going great. Death numbers had risen in accordance with the population increase this year. Serial killer’s numbers had taken a slight dip, but the increase of deaths in the Middle East more than made up for it. I reminisced on what my boss Joe had said before leaving. “It’s an easy job. Just make sure to kill a few people every now and then. We’re revving up for a mass death in 2018. I want to ease the universe into it.” “No problem,” I had responded while playing my makeshift drum set consisting of my soda can, desk, and a pair of pencils. Aw man I should have taken those words to heart. I chuckled, heart. I hadn’t had one of those in a long time. How many years had I been dead? 1000, 2000, no had to have been at least 5000 years. While most people went to hell and a few to heaven a select and I mean very select few get chosen to work the death side of things. They do this for a few thousand millennia which really is not long in the scale of eternity. Joe is almost done with his term then I am supposed to step up and take his position as head of The Dept. of Reapers. It comes with black robes and a scythe. I find the black robes accentuate the white of the skeleton quite nicely. However, the outfit is only worn when we take a trip into The Universe and need to reinstill fear into species who think they have conquered death with technology or other means. Honestly, the job comes down one thing. Stamping approve or disapprove on papers which come to the desk. Sure the papers contain info on the entire individual’s life history but I’ve pretty much based my decisions solely on the person's picture. And sometimes I don’t like the way a baby smiles at me. From there, once the death is approved, how the actual death happens is completely out of the department’s control. Within a week the death will be processed and the person will be selected for placement in the afterlife. Now back to my current predicament. I messed up bad. Real bad. That two day bender had been a horrible idea. My buddy Tim from our accounting department had sent me the video from Monday night when we broke into the office. I remembered the break in. However, everything after had been foggy. This video cleared it up. “You going to do it?” giggled Tim as I held the approval stamp inches from the paper. “I’m going to do it,” I giggled back like a school girl. “Seriously don’t dare me. I’ll do it.” “You won’t!” Tim slurred. Smack the sound reverberated in the video. Lifting up the stamp, the video panned over to a red, fat approved on the picture of planet Earth. Shit, shit, shit. I thought to myself as I replayed the video. Apparently, the newly elected president of the United States decided his best buddy in Russia was being a meanie. His words not mine. And uh, hit a few buttons he shouldn’t have. Long story short, Pluto is now more of a planet than earth will ever be. Shouting echoed down the hall outside my door. A few seconds later Joe burst into the office. “YOU!" his voice shook in anger. "You killed his favorite planet. Dear God what am I going to tell him. I left for three freaking days. You know what happened last time reapers killed everyone on Earth with a flood?? DO YOU!? Eternal suffering!” “Eternal Suffering?” I replied meekly pacing back and forth. “Yes, eternal suffering. THE PLACE BELOW HELL!” screamed Joe. “Um excuse me,” murmured our secretary quietly. “Old testament God is on the line.”	2016-12-27T18:38:09	2016-12-27T14:57:06	1,563	16
[WP]Witches and wizards have taken over the earth. You are one of the few remaining muggles left in existence and must keep your powerlessness a secret from the magical community. One morning you receive an ordinary letter delivered by hand... [deleted]	There was a sharp knocking, and I leapt up scrambling desperately for the wand I kept tucked under my pillow, whilst trying to maintain my composure as I crept towards the door. The knocks came again, harder, and I flattened myself up against the frame and ever so quietly peeked through peephole. I saw a figure in a dark cloak disappear out of sight, clattering down the hallway with heavy boots, and I had half a mind to make chase, except that I noticed a letter that had been slid under my door. It was a plain white envelope, remarkably unremarkable in the sense that it had no protective hex text crawling around the edges, nor were there any official stamps or markings of any kind to indicate it had been bought and paid for at a Ministry post office. I opened it, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled the paper out and recognised what was undoubtedly Times New Roman, with proper kerning and anti-aliasing. My eyes went wide at the implication; a computer made this. Somewhere out there was a person who not only had access to a computer and a printer, but had their own electricity supply that had gone undetected by the Ministry Fixers. The letter was disappointingly short: > We have been watching you carefully. You know why you have received this. > > They took us because we let them. The monsters only hunt our kind and not theirs, there is no more room for pretense anymore - "Our Protectors" are a farce. This is genocide. > > Meet at the spoons on Bridge Street, Thursday. "Sic Semper Draconis." I felt a sudden sense of anxiety, and blood rushed to my face. Those idiots! What were they doing? They're pulling innocent people out of their homes to disrupt the war effort. I had to let the ministry know, even if I was only a squib -- I had to let them know. I grabbed my cloak and my identification papers, and marched out of the door.	The envelope had an invitation to a secret meeting at a dusty old pub. I went. The lights were electric, like in the old days. Rock music—actual rock music, none of that Wyrd Sisters bullshit—played on an antique jukebox. The paintings on the wall stayed quiet and didn’t bother anybody about anything. The beer wasn’t fucking made of honey. Three people sat in a booth, listening intently to a man with frazzled white hair who staggered in the aisle, throwing his hands up in wild gesticulations. Instead of robes, he wore a ninety-nine dollar suit. I had never seen an old person with so much energy. His name was Bernie Sanders. “Everyone deserves to go to a college of witchcraft and wizardry,” Bernie said, “The current generation shouldn’t have to mortgage their future just to get ahead—not even to get ahead in life, just to stay afloat! The Auror department gets too much funding already, and in the schools that do exist, the Defense Against the Dark Arts is grossly overemphasized. Where’s our healthcare? Why can’t normal people like us, on a non-magical salary, afford healing potion reagents? Why do we spend so much on Defense? The government should be developing the Sorcerer’s Stone! Mass-produce it for everyone! Good-bye healthcare debate. “This is not World War II. There is no reason to be teaching these kids how to defend themselves against magical terrorists—this is how authoritarian regimes like Cornelius Fudge’s come to power: They identify a scapegoat, tell everybody ‘Ooh beware of the big bad Voldemort, he’s gonna blow up your family’ and then no one questions him when he wants to discriminate against Muggles, minorities, immigrants, and the LGBTQ community. No one questions him when he calls the Daily Prophet ‘Fake News’. Guess what everybody? There hasn’t been a major attack by a dark wizard on US soil for sixteen years! Yet we still have pervasive monitoring systems set up by the fascist intelligence agency called the Aurors! There’s a ratchet effect—you give these guys new powers when they need it and then decades down the line they still say they need it cuz they don’t wanna give up power! We vote for them and they say they’re gonna close Azkaban, but they never do! Absolute power corrupts!” Two tall men apparated behind Bernie Sanders. They wore Aurors’ robes. The three men in the booth eyed the Aurors warily. “And HERE they are once again!” Bernie said. One of the Aurors placed his meaty hand on Bernie’s shoulder. “But we’ve had enough,” Bernie said, “Today is the day we strike back!” Bernie shoved his bony knee into the groin of one Auror, and stuffed his bony elbow into the stomach of the other. He snatched their wands from their hands and sprinted out of the bar without paying his bill. The three men in the booth stood up, cracking their knuckles. They’d never seen Aurors without wands before. This would be a good fight. It was time to Make America Squib Again. ---- >>/r/trrh	2017-03-07T13:17:08	2017-03-07T13:10:15	108	34
[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.	A pen? Really? A fucking pen? My dad sat in the corner, head in hands, laughing hysterically and triumphantly. Wait.. Was this a prank? No, surely not. My dad, the ever serious scribe would never joke about a pen. "Dad, why would I be chosen by a pen? A pen is only mightier than a sword in that movie in the in the tank scene. You know, with Han Solo's dad." Needless to say, I didn't know how to feel. My dad just glared at me, muttering something about pop-culture and my generation. "Son, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see," he said. I looked. Nothing. "Now, write on your hand, the most amazing thing you can think of." I thought for a minute and had an idea. "Sex," I wrote. What can I say, I'm 15. Immediately, images flashed through my head and I understood, no I knew what sex was all about and why it mattered. I understood why and when it didn't matter. I understood. I panted with wonder at the feeling of the knowledge I had gained. Quickly, beneath that word, I wrote, "War" and I wept from the scenes of death and destruction that I saw. Then I wrote, "Peace" and all became clear. I finally looked closely at the pen I had been given at the choosing ceremony. Etched in the side was the word, "Wisdom and Understanding." "Son, in our village, every weapon that chooses is imbued with power. You have been given the greatest weapon of them all but the least desired because so few people choose to read and understand, to think. You have been given the ability to shape the minds of people for generations." Quickly, I grabbed a stack of paper and began to write and then stopped. I needed to process what I had learned this night and be thoughtful. This pen was mightier than any sword and I was going to use it well. My father smiled.	"A pen? Wait, I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was... A FUCKING PEN???" Of all the "weapons" available to everyone, I was chosen by a pen. I didn't even know a pen was an option. From a basic stick, all the way up to a nuclear warhead, but a fucking pen? The Seer looked at me as if he was offended by my disdain for the new tool of "destruction" that chose me. "You know they say the pen is mightier than the sword for a reas-" "But how am I supposed to fight anyone with this!?" I cut him off, tossing the generic ink pen on the counter between us. "Perhaps you're looking at things the wrong way. Maybe your purpose isn't to fight, but to destroy. Maybe you aren't a warrior, but a diplomat. Weaponry has changed over time, beginning with rocks and sticks, to the guns and bombs we have today, but writing has gone on ages. A well placed knife can kill a man, but a well placed writing can bring down entire civilizations. You just have to figure out how to do that." He walked back into his office, leaving me with that last bit of wisdom. It certainly didn't help at all, I was still pissed, but I had no options, and I was thinking about how I could use this. Days had passed and word had gotten around more than just my village. It had gotten around to the surrounding city and was growing quickly. Apparently nobody had been chosen by such a measly little thing before. Our family was shamed and people hardly looked at us even. My father had barely held onto his job, but gotten demoted to a very low rank. My mother was shunned from all of her social activities and had lost her job as well. My siblings were getting beat up at school, someone threw eggs at our house, even set our yard on fire. I hated seeing this happen, but what could I do? All I had was a pen. I thought at first I could stab people with it, but that wouldn't do at all. I did the only thing I could do, and I decided to write. The sun started shining through my window. Had I really been writing that long? It had to have been hours. The sun wasn't even setting when I began yesterday. I looked at everything I had down, and realized I had actually gone through three entire notebooks and started on another. I wasn't sure what I could do with them, but I figured someone might enjoy my stories online. I copied everything onto my computer, and uploaded them to a few social media sites I had. I hardly had any followers, even less now after the pen incident, but I was Internet infamous, so people would see this. And even if they didn't, maybe a handful of people that enjoyed reading would happen across it. I had no idea just how popular they would get though. Nobody could have imagined my late night scribbles would have been so popular that even world leaders would want to talk to me....	2017-04-10T09:52:20	2017-04-10T09:45:20	37	17
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP...	I've never been one to care much about games. Though I owned one of those gray brick Game Boys as a kid, I'd largely fallen out of gaming as my life grew busier with work, friends and family. Smartphones changed all of that. After the success of games like Minecraft and Candy Crush, not to mention augmented reality games like Pokémon Go, it was only a matter of time before technology and real life began to intersect. A new app, promoted heavily as a Lifestyle Improvement Solution by the federal government, offered Experience Points for all sorts of things. Suddenly, there were people happy to volunteer to help out at various events, if only for a measly 4 EXP. So too did people start going out and killing mosquitoes en masse, as every death, somehow, either through drones or satellites or some sort of arcane paper pushing magic, was recorded. Weekly and monthly quests that ranged from the easy (put your garbage and recycle bins out the night before pick up) to the challenging (moderate exercise at least two hours, five days a week) to the outright impossible (find a new source of platinum on your land). Death was a big thing, especially after the Freedomites won the White House in 2024. They knew who the real problem was, they said. Criminals. The homeless. People with mental illnesses. The quests became darker and more dangerous. Shave a homeless man until he's hairless and power wash him until he's free of vermin. Make people who are going off their meds take them on threat of a beating. Post videos of destroying someone's drug stash along with their personal information. It got worse before it got better. Gun restrictions were loosened, but only for people who registered Freedomite, and they only allowed you to join if you could prove that you had three generations worth of white ancestors on both sides of your family. It soon became a crime to have a tan. Not literally, of course, but if someone looked at you and thought that you looked dark enough to be a criminal or one of the unclean unhoused, you were in for a world of hurt. Murder used to mean something awful. Now they have shooting galleries for the "elite" that feature the highest scoring victims...or Freedom-Hating Criminals, as they have all been branded. EXP gained from taking these lives are minimal for the very rich, as they are all at levels that most of us consider "beyond the pay wall." It doesn't stop them from "keeping up appearances." There are still quests, but they're all twisted. They tell us to kill, injure, maim. They want us to tear each other apart, and for what?Many of us now refuse to play, though the app now comes standard on all phones; its red, unblinking eye seeing all. I hadn't played in years when, one morning, while sitting alone at home, I heard the telltale sound, like a slow slide whistle, of my EXP bar filling. It went on for an hour- that terrible sound filling me with dread. A cheerful trill sounded on my silent-mode-only phone, and I stared down at the cartoony envelope on the screen. Hesitantly, I tapped it with my finger and confetti exploded around the screen "Congratulations!" A cheery voice said, her false exuberance filling the kitchen. "You have been selected to receive 1500 EXP as part of our limited Citizen Run Event! The rules are simple. A lucky few are given large quantities of EXP to protect with their lives...literally! Your name, image and location are given to all participants twelve hours after, to give you a fair head start. If you can hold onto your EXP until the first of the month, the change will be permanent. This is just another of the new benefits that we have been working on implementing for your enjoyment as a citizen of our free and glorious country!" I stammered out an expletive and dropped the phone to the floor as the shock began to wear off and a deep sense of horror filled me. "Now then, citizen." The recorded voice seemed to deepen, then, all traces of frivolity disappearing as it said one final word: "Run."	A typical sunny day in a small town called Waterway, its a port city located far from Sundown Capital, the city is correlated between the ocean and the surrounding forest called 'Gateway domain'. Gargle As a young boy brushing his teeth raised head, then spat out a mouthful of water. "I cant be late again, I shouldn't have brushed my teeth" The young boy now running from his bathroom and vaulting over his couch in the living room towards the door, as he locks the door and runs out of his apartment building. Splat The youth suddenly paused to look underneath his right shoe, discovering gooey crushed shell. Suddenly at tattoo on the youths hand glowed, when it vanished numbers appeared > +0.1 > L.02. 167.5 EXP "Sigh, 0.1 EXP increase only a common green snail" The youth continued running north of his apartment to the center of Waterway. The people of this world have always been able to gain Experience Points from various tasks; Killing monsters, completing quest, for filling an achievement or dream, etc. When people gain enough EXP they Level Up, which in turn gives them a small increase in a variety of attributes, but also the best reason to Level Up is to gain a Skill Point which can be spent on increasing an ability or skill, i.g. Magic, Weapon handling, Elemental affinity, ect. Naturally people lose their retained EXP when they Level Up and more EXP is needed for the next. As the time passes, the sun now begins to slightly descend under a circular two-storey arching building. A person stands in front of the entrance, Grumble Grumble Where is that little sod? A middle aged woman with a tall and toned physique, a few visible grey hairs standout against her vibrant red hair. Her face goes from scornful and angry to a look of relief as a young red-faced boy appears across the horizon. As the youth who is wincing and gasping for air approaches the woman, he manages to mumble out " Half an hour early, as promised teacher" "You still need to win your match today for our bet, Jason." His teacher couldn't help but reveal a slight smile as she looked at the youth, even if Jason isn't a genius or, excels at anything she has always been intrigued by him for a unknown reason, "Quickly lets get you prepared". Jason nodded as they both walked towards the entrance of the building, a 10ft black door with a red carvings of beasts upon it. His teacher reaches in her pocked to pull out a silver card and shows it to the door. A hologram comes from the door revealing a picture and some details: * Name: Cassandra Ink * Warrior Title : Fire Ink * Occupation: Teacher * Level: 32 * Age: 26 * Background: Common * Noticeable features: Red Hair, Scarlet Eyes, Prosthetic Arm. The picture is clearly of Cassandra, however it must have been taken a few years ago as she has ho visible grey hairs and less wrinkles in the profile. The black door swung open, but all Jason was thinking about was the details he didn't notice about his teacher "Only 26? Fire Ink? Prosthetic arm?" before he could delve deeper in thought he was snapped awake by the light nudge from his teacher. Jason began to look in his pockets for his own silver card, and nothing, he checked again, and again,"Err.. I forgot my membership card" A panicked look appeared across his face as he looked up at his teacher with remorseful eyes. "Only you could somehow ruin today, at least I came prepared." Lights suddenly flashed on from a distant white car, and a slight humming noise from it that pleased the ears, as driving itself in front of Cassandra. She jumped in the drives seat and opened the side door for Jason. The tranquil and soothing humming from the engine quickly changed to a ferocious roar as Cassandra shoved her foot on the gas. It only took them few minutes to get to Jason's apartment, but for Jason he wasn't sure if he would survive, as Cassandra was driving like a lunatic nearly double the speed limit, zigzagging and driving though red lights. Jason was sure he didn't die then at least the police would catch them, to his surprise not one police car was on the road. As Jason opened his door to the apartment he imminently began opening draws, flipping cushions and looking everywhere. A flash of relief crossed his face as he ran toward the bathroom cupboard. A silver card next to his toothbrush, as he was about to grab it his tattoo suddenly began to glow, but this time was different from every other time he could somehow feel a terrifying strength in the pit of his stomach, like a creature so powerful it could rip open the sky itself, his body felt like it was on fire and the pain became overwhelming. Jason's head began to spin incapable of bearing the pressure he began to passed out as his face hit the tiled floor. The last thing he saw was the tattoo on his right hand, the glow was disappearing and he could make out the words. > +1500 EXP > Divine Bloodline Unlocked Edit: Spelling Mistake.	2017-05-15T13:45:43	2017-05-15T13:29:34	80	13
[WP] You are a normal average person but you happen to have many supervillain friends. This is awkward when heroes keep trying to rescue you.	"Once again, thanks for the tea." I said. "I still can't believe you got the entire island to yourself, PLUS the volcano." "My Job has its perks" smiled Jessica "The previous owners donated it to me free of charge" "Really?" "Yeah,but...Rebecca, have you been listening to the news recently?" I nodded. She leaned in. "What do you think of this new shadowcat villain?" "Shadowcat?" There were so many new villains these days."I'm not sure. I think she's hiding somewhere around this area? Why, are you worried or something?" "Oh no, no, I was just curious if you knew anything about her. Anyways, it was a pleasure meeting you again after so long. May I escort you to the helipad?" "Actually, I've got a dinner. Do you remember Daniel?". I could see her trying to force that memory of the graduation party. "Apparently, he's made quite the sucess with his new inventions.You'll never guess his latest." "Wait. Stop. Are you and him..." She bent over and gestured with both hands. "...?" A crackle of lightning scared the both of us. An inter-dimensional portal appeared just behind me, and Daniel took a few steps forward. "Hello" He said, as he surveyed the scene. I don't know which was more embarrassing. Daniel showing up in his fully accurate cosplay suit, emerging from his newly invented teleporter no less, OR that Jessica was making that pose right in front of him. At least Daniel seemed composed but, Jessica looked like as if she had seen a ghost, her eyes bulging like a cat's. I couldn't understand why they were staring at each other for so long, so I asked "Do you guys know each other and fight recently or something?"	"Hey, Ultra Man, this is the sixth time you save me this week, don't you think that I would be dead already if I were in constant danger from The Bastard League?" his words half filled with sarcasm. " But, they are super villains, I can not help but worry about a man living so close to them." answered Ultra Man as he slowed down their flight through the skyline of New York " They are also my buddies, we went to the same highschool, they mean no harm to me, is that a reason good enough to quit the whole saving me business, because this is getting ridiculous, I can not take a shower now without one of you barging into my apartment and taking me out of there." " Sorry for that, Transparent Man, is fresh out of superhero school, it was his first job." " If only your sorry could repair my window pane and return my dignity, you know that my junk is now the most recognizable genitalia in Queens, they even ran an article in Times about me flying naked in the sky and because transparent man is well transparent it looked as if I was levitating naked, well at least you took care of that public indecency charge, because I was on the verge of suing The Public Order Group." "Ugh, sorry, it's just a really hard time in the office now and now they sent me, I had no idea you were the target to be saved." " Okay, you seem to be the sane one there, so could you raise the question at one of your meetings to like put me on a, not for saving list." " That would be difficult because I would have to fill like two forms, and then we will have to get a testimony from you, and then check on you every 3 weeks, you don't want to go through that believe me." " Really? Bureaucracy sucks. Is there really no way for me to not be saved that often?" " Well, I'll talk with my buddies at work and we'll find a way, but you will still see us a lot after all your buddies are wanted and we can't let them" " I get it, it's your job, no problems there" " Now I'll fly you back." " Thanks." "Oh Johnny heard the Ultra chicken gave you another ride today" " Ralph, could you not mention that, cause that's all you fault." " Their fault for being superhero dumbasses, you wanted to say" " Damn they call you Twister Tongue for a reason." " Okay, now you are just being mean, you know I hate that nickname." "Hey, this is why I am your friend, always there to remind you of the most embarrassing moments of your life." " Oh, look who's talking about embarrassments." " Shut up Harry." " Johnny you know the rule, you talk smack you get smack back." " I also know you are obsessed with my dick Harry." " Nice come back from Mister exhibitionist." They all laughed.	2017-05-28T08:31:17	2017-05-28T06:41:27	32	10
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life.	My name is Max. I've been patiently waiting to be reunited with Master for 53 days. Master is my master, I'm his friend. Master and I met when we were both little, and now we're bigger. The smell of Master is very comforting. I haven't smelled Master in 53 days. I have everything that I need. A nice woman walks me every day. A nice man feeds me every day. Families bring their children by so their little ones can say, "Hi." They call me Bailey, but that's not my name. My name is Max. But they must have their friends here too, because they say hi to me, but they bring their friends home. The other friends are very happy to go. Master and I were in the seats-that-go-fast. There was a terrible noise. Master was covered by a blanket. My blanket is soft. The nice woman who walks me had wet eyes when she took me for my walk. She spoke with lower words I didn't understand. Today is different. Maybe Master is coming. We went down a different hallway than usual. No walks? She kissed me. Maybe Master is down this hallway. He'll remember my name is Max.	I am one of a few. Unloved, not cared for. I am starving, surviving on what I can find. I live without a family, without a partner, without a friend. My human passed away when he was 13. Now, I am 45. He picked me out as a puppy. Both of us were born the same year. I had been injected, like all companions, with a serum that allows me to live the average human lifespan, about 73 years. As fate would have it, my human, Todd, would only make it to 13; the average lifespan of one of my kind. After he died, I was abandoned. Unneeded. I was driven out of town by Todd’s father and left in the woods. There, I learned to hunt. I learned to kill. Squirrels, birds, cats, whatever I could sink my fangs into. I’m an expert now. A hunter. A professional. There is nothing I can’t take down. I’ve become a legend of sorts. A myth among those living in Todd’s old town. It started when deer bones were found scattered through the woods. Something, somewhere, was killing these animals. Then, a man watched as I fought a bear for a kill. I emerged victorious. He ran and told the town. The children claim to hear my howls in the winter nights. Mothers place wolfsbane around their baby’s cradle to ward me off. They fear me. I find it funny. They fear nothing. I am nothing but a shell. I was stripped of meaning thirty-two years ago. I hunt for my own survival. I kill because it is the only thing I have left. I understand now why they made my kind live longer. How can you attach yourself to something knowing it would leave you so quickly? How can you watch a small, defenseless hunk of flesh grow into its prime and die within an eighth of your lifespan? How can you watch someone you love die? They came for me today. Seven men with guns entered the woods. Each armed with silver bullets. They’re hunting “The Werewolf of Brackwood Forest”. They’re hunting a legend, but they will kill a shell.	2018-03-19T10:20:23	2018-03-19T10:03:16	52	39

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