prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Your superpower isn't as flashy or obvious as other, but it's one of the most powerful. You always guess the code, the evil plan, the safest route. You're always right. | "How the hell do we bring that thing down??" Screamed Livewire, floating midair and staring wide eyed to the trail of destruction left by the creature.
The Titan was stalking toward the downtown area, slow but inexorable, as tall as a ten stories building. Ground shook at every step, its five unblinking eyes fixed on its target.
"It shouldn't be too hard; first, go- just a second." I replied, interrupted by an insistent beeping.
"Are you making pop corn? For real?!" Asked my partner through the phone, as I headed toward the kitchen. "People is dying here!"
"Relax, if you do as I say, you'll get the lowest possible bodycount. And, uh, you'll survive unscathed." I continued distractedly, holding the cellphone between my ear and my shoulder.
"Sometimes you are really a jerk..." Sneered the other superhero, nervously keeping an eye on the colossus.
"Whatever. Now, please, do as I say. Head on the rooftop on the left. Yes that one." I instructed her, highlighting the place on her HUD. "Once there, wait exactly thirty-five seconds and blast the support of that billboard over there."
"That's it?" Asked the woman, perplexed. "And what would that be supposed to- wait, I know: you have no idea."
"Exactly." I munched through the speaker, pushing a handful of popcorn in my mouth while keeping my eyes on the live feed. "By the way, twenty five seconds. And move one step on the left."
The heroine begrudgingly obeyed, still intimidated by the colossal figure trampling through the street and approaching the storm drainl, the last barrier before the densely populated residential neighborhood: evacuation was on the way, but if it got there it would still be a carnage.
"Five, four, three, two, one... Now." I lazily signaled and, sure enough, a blast of hyonized air zigzagged through the air, hitting a billboard a few hundred feet away. Not even close to the Titan, which barely gave it a thought: for a full minute, it continued stomping toward its target, its massive hooves easily moving it into the storm drain.
"Uuuh, nothing is happening." Nervously said Livewire, observing the scene. "Are you-"
She didn't even finish her sentence, when the monster fell: its feet slipped on the cracked floor, and its massive skull hit the base of the pillar of the bridge traversing the canal with a loud crack.
We both remained in silence for several seconds. "Well, that was anticlimactic." I muttered, disappointedly putting down the bowl of popcorn.
"What the hell happened?" Asked Livewire, warily approaching the colossal body, "is it dead? Just like this? What happened?"
"Your guess is good as mine." I shrugged, checking the cameras on the drones and trying to figure it out. It took me a minute to understand. "Oh, I got it. The billboard fell on an exhausted oil tanker, which spilled its content in the canal. The big guy slipped on it, and it fell temple first against the base of the pillar."
"That was... uuuh... surprisingly easy. Maybe you should alert the town downstream to contain the flood of oil? Isn't that kinda polluting?"
"Yeah, maybe. Let me finish the popcorn, and I'll give them a call." | "Hey, Captain Foresight!"
I heard the bellow from across the restaurant. Enjoying a burger and fries in peace was becoming increasingly difficult.
"It's you, right? Who do like in the game tonight?"
The question came from the same, vaguely youngish, vaguely middle-to-upperclassish, not vaguely dudes who always think they are entitled to ask me those kinds of questions. Not that I could be too mad about it, since that was how my powers were brought to light. Or at least that's how the Valley Forge Casino and Sportsbook management became the first outsiders to figure it out. After I cleaned them out, they made me an offer - get us our money back tenfold or get reported to every state gaming commission in the country. It took me less than three days.
The good thing about questions like these is that I don't even really need to know who was playing. I just make up some sportsball shit and they can take it to the bank.
"Take the over and the home team minus the points," I said as I quickly finished up my last bite. Once people knew I was here, I'd be getting swarmed in seconds.
"YES! Awesome! Thanks, Cap!" I half-heartedly returned this guy's high five and knew that would be the high point of my day as I saw heads start to turn my way. I stood up from my chair. I heard the questions coming my way and knew I had to get on the move.
"Dump him. Dump him. Dump her. Marry her. You're not getting into Dartmouth." Four out of five angry customers. Wait, no. Five out of five. I need to move faster. The angry murmurs are already starting. I duck out the exit just in time to grab a bike stashed next to the door and jam it against the handle before the first milkshake splatters against the glass. A couple guys are already out of their seats headed angrily towards me. The bike won't hold the door closed long, but it'll be long enough for me to be well out of sight before they get there. So many people ask questions without thinking about whether they actually want the answers.
I approach my car and see the Undersecretary standing by the passenger side door, waiting for me to unlock it. "Perfect timing," she says.
"Fuck. What do you want?" I ask.
"There's a situation we need your advice on." I've heard this line so often that I voice it concurrently with her.
"My advice? Quit worrying so goddamn much about being right all the time." | 2019-11-29T12:11:40 | 2019-11-29T11:13:36 | 55 | 20 |
[WP] Due to a rare neurological condition you literally have a room temperature IQ. You've been able to manage your condition by living in a warm climate and making regular visits to the sauna, but you find yourself thinking that there has to be a better way. | I've been living with my condition for quite some time now, making small strides here and there increasing and stabilizing my IQ. At first I just made sure to stay indoors during the winter, but eventually I moved from my home in England closer to the Mediterranean which helped with the usually more stable climate. Even there though, my intellect wasn't much better than your average tricycle.
No, the real leaps and bounds came when, on a whim, I took a trip to Florida. I'd seen a few adverts here and there, and plenty of memes about things being crazy and warm. Almost immediately after I landed I'd started to feel much quicker-witted, really coming out of a general haze. At the time I assumed it must have been particularly warm, but something far more profound was beginning to take effect.
A few days into my stay, and really my first few days feeling like an average adult, an actual heat-wave landed. I flicked on the weather broadcast, they were talking about it being a hundred and ten degrees. I couldn't believe it at first, we should all be dead if that were true. At first I wrote it off as an error, but a few hours later the hotel room's AC broke, and in the midst of that impromptu sauna I had several rapid-fire epiphanies that would change me forever.
Since I'd landed here I'd been bombarded by American culture of various sorts, one of the first of which had entirely escaped my notice. Everything had been labeled in degrees *Fahrenheit*. The next epiphany came rather naturally, as I pondered the implications of the measurement system's interaction with my condition. I began to think of some of the science-y texts I'd read in the past, which had gone entirely over my head then, about some of the truly hot places out there. They had all mentioned and described Kelvin, but I apparently had lacked context or insight in order for what came next to kick in.
I found myself more intelligent than ever, perhaps more intelligent than theoretically possible. After all, my IQ was now sitting pretty right above three hundred, but I could still go even further. A quick search online via my phone, and I'd found it. One last gift from the ridiculous measurement system many Americans insist upon. Rankine. | Month fourteen day four hour it’s cold in space. After spending days in the sauna, I slowly was able to build a ship that would take me to the sun. And I’m almost there. I just hope I make it there. I have to leave the heater soon.
Yao y’all have cheese??? Like yes. Zimbabweea. Cold
[confirm deletion of paragraph]
{failed to delete}
Month fifteen, I feel the heat of the sun. Every passing second my IQ develops, and I feel as if the neurons in my brain are expanding
It’s incredibly hot now, and I feel the power. But I wonder, how can I possible know if anyone else is alive. I know I’m alive and my consciousness is there, but I already thought of multiple possibilities where a change would take place
I feel like I need to approach the sun, I have have been in orbit. My language skills have vastly improved, but I find it hard to write normally like before, but the new words keep on describing everything far better.
I’m coming in, I feel the heat. I have already prepared it. I’m approaching, slowly and slowly. AND I FEEL IT, THE INFINITE KNOWLEDGE IS MINE. A million calculations are going through my head. Wait. The ultimate knowledge is coming, I feel it, it’s here: I should not have gone this close to the su- | 2021-09-23T10:53:09 | 2021-09-23T08:34:24 | 412 | 114 |
[WP] “Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me. It’s not your fault.” He spoke with a gentle tone but he was pissed, not at the hero, but at the gods who send kids and teens to fight him. | After so long, after so many people, you would think you'd get used to the sight of blood. To the sound of someone crying in pain. It doesn't get any easier though. Especially when it's like this.
The child gasped and coughed again, her fingers feebly trying to pull at the piece of rebar that protruded from her chest. Her arms move slowly, her legs, not at all.
"Oh, no." The moan escaped my throat without me realizing. "No, no, no. Fuck." I knelt next to the broken body, cradling her head in my lap. "I'm sorry. Shit. I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to be a kid. Fuck. What were they thinking?!"
The girl reached for me, her bloodied hands leaving dark stains on my arms. She tried to speak, but a sickening amount of blood rolled out between her lips instead.
They sent a child to stop me, she looked barely able to drive, let alone fight a war, and now I was holding her while she died.
The ogre that had crushed her into the ground stared in horror, first at the girl. Then at his own hands. "Oberon, what do we do?" He asked, his normally strong voice thin in horror and grief.
A spasm wrenched the girl's body, and her nails briefly dug into my skin before her hand fell away, and her body fell mercifully limp and still.
"We make this right, Oghrim," I said, voice low, murderous. "We have played their game for far too long. It is time we reminded these so called gods that their time is ended."
I took the hat from my head as I rose, soaking it in the girl's blood, staining the formerly pristine fabric a dark crimson. Then, with Oghrim, and the other outraged sidhe behind me, I went to war. | A rage began to swell, bubbling up from Saerin's gut and seating itself deep within his heart. He had fought many a hero since he started following his own ambitions, but never had he fought a kid before. Now here he was, holding the child, likely no more than 15, that had been slain by his own hands. A child chosen by some great and terrible god. A child that was probably told he was to be a great hero that would slay a mighty evil in the name of this great god. The poor soul couldn't have known how powerful Saerin was, or that there was nearly no way for Saerin to be defeated. Saerin took the child up in his arms and carried him away. No family should have to bury their child, but perhaps it would be even worse to never see your child again. Saerin tracked down the parents over a short time and left the body to be found within the limits of the town. He felt guilt descend upon him, followed quickly by a ferocious recurrence of rage. He asked himself if it were possible to kill a god, and decided that he would answer that question soon. | 2019-07-26T07:52:50 | 2019-07-26T07:17:13 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| 2017-01-01T13:54:55 | 2017-01-01T13:17:56 | 98 | 15 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | Seconds before the decaying support beams running through the apartment building finally snapped, Chronotron strolled casually into unit 8B, the last on his checklist.
Mere seconds remained before the aging architecture would be reduced to rubble, but that was more than enough time for Chronotron. As one gifted with the ability to manipulate the passage of time, Chronotron rarely felt pressured when he worked – the concept of urgency, after all, had no relevance in a world which only moved when he allowed it to.
He checked the apartment methodically, starting with the hall first, then the attached kitchen, the balcony, then the bedrooms.
Which was where he found the kid, crying as she tugged on her friends in vain, pulling them towards the door. Shit, he thought, there’s three of them.
“Hey, kid, you need to weave your chrono-filaments around your friends, or they are never going to be move. They’ll just be frozen there, forever.”
The kid swung to face him, tears streaking down her cheeks, oblivious to the badge which Chronotron was holding out, which marked him as an Enhanced contractor attached to the police force. “Mister, please! We were just talking when suddenly, everything froze! I’ve been trying to move them, but they are not responding!”
Chronotron could have explained to the girl that her latent powers had probably been awoken by the mortal danger she was in, and that it was more than likely that they shared an ancestor in common. He could also have demonstrated then how to manipulate a chrono-filament, or even just walked out of there with all three children.
But none of those things fell under the insurance cover for the building, so Chronotron did none of that. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the owners didn’t spring for more coverage, or that whatever funds remained only allowed him to save one more person today.
“Kid, come on,” Chronotron beckoned, holding out his hand, “time’s money, you know. I came to rescue you, so we’ve got to get a move on.”
“And leave Sara and Bianca here? I can’t do that!”
“You look like, what, 12 this year?”
“What does that even matter in a situation like this?”
Chronotron sighed. “You look like you’re old enough to understand the way things are. There’s only enough budget to save one of you, you know how we work. So count yourself lucky I’ve decided to rescue you.”
“Can’t you just save them instead? I can get out on my own!”
Chronotron scoffed. “As I said, I can only save one. Plus, without knowing how to use your powers, you couldn’t even get this door open. As I said, until you’ve learned how to weave your chrono-filaments, you can’t interact with the world at all. And this time pocket you carved, it’s sweet, for a first-timer, but it’s already cracking. I leave this room, and you’ll only experience a couple of minutes more before you’re wrenched back to the common timestream. So no, you can’t get out of your own.”
A bulb seemed to go off in the girl’s head. “You’re an Enhanced policeman, aren’t you? You’re the special forces on retainer for the city?”
“Correction, I’m Enhanced, but I am not a policeman. We’re paid per job. It’s very different.”
“But that’s my point! I can hire you too, right? I can pay you to save us all!”
“You couldn’t afford my fees.”
“My parents have money! They will certainly pay you!”
Chronotron shook his head resolutely. “Sorry kid, rules are rules. All services rendered only after payment is made. No credit, no exceptions.”
His words were cold, but his conscience remained unpricked. After all, these weren’t his rules. The Enhanced Division was the one in charge of drafting policy, and they were the ones who had firmly decided on the upfront payment policy. And if he broke the rules, his license would be taken away, and his powers Stemmed. No one wanted that.
“Please, you have to save them. They’re my best friends, and I would do anything just to save them!” the girl cried, as she sank to her knees. “Or how about the things I have in my room! Everything here is mine! Just take it!”
Chronotron started to protest again, but the words died in his throat. There was one thing of value in that room.
“Anything at all, I can take as payment?”
“Yes! Please, anything!”
---
Chronotron’s supervisor, Elendra, was waiting at the bottom of the building, clipboard in hand. As the complex finally collapsed inwards on itself, as Chronotron laid the two girls on the sidewalk along with all the other survivors he had rescued, Elendra’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“That’s one over budget. Please don’t tell me you messed up, the paperwork’s going to be a bitch.”
“Calm down, Elendra, I got paid for the extra one. It’s not going to cause any accounting problems.”
“Paid? By whom? Did you already collect payment?”
Chronotron chuckled, then pointed with his chin towards the settling dust of the ruined building. “Payment in kind. The Institute’s still as hungry as ever to discover the origins of our powers, right? Well, there’s an Enhanced girl in there, she’s assigned me full rights to her remains.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | Like every day since I started this job, the subway was packed. Not the kind of packed where you have to occasionally mutter apologies as you slide past people; this was more like something that made me envious of sardines in a can.
Thank-god for phones. I sighed as an ad began to play again on the video I was watching, for the fifth time in ten minutes.
A superhero, dressed in a green and white spandex suit, smiles with impossibly white teeth at the camera. Besides him, a name: SteelSkin, TM. In his hand, he holds something that resembles an insulin syringe, complete with viscous lime-green liquid swirling inside.
“Thanks to EasyPowers Ltd., I can effortlessly use my superpowers without having to worry about reinjections every four hours. It’s the only choice, buy an EasyPowers starter module today! Only one hundred thousand dollars a shot!” He winks at the camera.
If only it was that easy. Everyone knew only a few select candidates received any powers at all. If you had the money, that is.
I stared out at the smog-filled city, admiring the six kilometer-tall JusticeTower from the window. Syracuse was responsible for that one, along with cold-fusion, and the cure for cancer if you could afford it.
I can see his memorial from here too, after he was killed by Czar. Apparently Czar couldn’t deal with the fact that a homosexual black man became the most famous Mender in history.
It was only because I was looking in that direction that I noticed it at all. A slight flicker of lightning in the sky, then another, closer to the train. A few figures, three men and two woman, charging towards the clouds.
Suddenly, there were thousands of flickering lightning strikes, the brightness briefly blinding me. I heard shouts of discomfort behind me.
“What the hell?”
“Oh god, is that Zeus?”
“He’s fighting the Justice Squad! Get out your phone.” A pair of shrill teenage girls behind me giggled.
I blinked away the spots in my vision, just in time to witness SteelSkin slam into the carriage next to us. Time slowed, and I saw the completely-full carriage crush in the middle like a stomped-on coke can. I watched, horrified.
Then my carriage derailed. I felt my body fly up, slamming into the ceiling with a deep cracking sound, and I couldn’t feel anything below my neck.
*I’m dead*, I thought. Then, *I don’t want to die*. Around me, I could hear a few moans. Most of the bodies were terrifyingly still.
“SteelSkin, are you alright?” A purring voice rang out from outside. It must be Asp. They both went to the same Long Island private school, apparently.
“I’m fine, darling.” He replied in that gravelly voice he put on for the cameras.
“Check to see if anyone had insurance in this train. Angel can heal them.”
I saw her, then. Impossibly beautiful, she entered the upturned carriage in a burst of pure white light. The illusion was immediately broken when her nose wrinkled. She only healed people who brought her million-dollar insurance. How else would she afford those designers clothes?
“Nah, they’re all just middle-class workers. No way do they have insurance.” They never included her ghetto accent in those documentaries they constantly ran.
“Alright, well at least we drove off Zeus.” Steelskin chuckled. I felt a brief stab of anger. I could see a one of the giggling girls from before sobbing over her dead friend in front of me, half of her head caved in like a deformed golf ball.
“He’ll think twice before he tries to steal that medicine again. Oh wait, what did we tell the newspapers?” I could hear Asp laughing outside.
*You told them he had a bioweapon he was planning to unleash on the world*, I thought again, that brief stab of anger turning into something deeper. Hatred. They flew off after that, acting as though thousands of people were not dying right next to them. They didn’t see my trigger, my screams of agony as the fabric of my entire body was remade, the first natural superpowers in over a decade.
The ambulances arrived thirty minutes later. It was a miracle, they said, almost like you could heal yourself. I smiled, laughing along as though everything was right with the world. It wasn’t.
They would pay. They would all pay, and when their corporations burned around them, I would be there to watch.
| 2017-04-02T08:24:03 | 2017-04-02T07:17:35 | 142 | 41 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | It was a kind of pleasant work to be a gardener of the military. They put me in a group with some adorable guys, some that followed me around, and some that lead the way. I felt like an escorted princess.
I was the only girl of the group, but they might as well not have noticed it, since I had to wear that stupid protection gear that covered my whole body, and the mask made my voice so muffled I could as well be a guy.
Our missions were at first very simple tasks for me, since I only had to follow them around spraying the plants.
Then, one day, our chief, a huge and masculine mann, asked me to use a little gun-like gardening tool, that let me shoot chemicals on some weird plants that spit at you! The plants were very dangerous, but after I shot them, they started dancing around a bit, then became docile~
There were 8 guys and me on my team, but one of them became my friend very quickly. He was a senior, probably the oldest of them, from Texas, and he was usually really kind to me. Sometimes, the other guys went to take a stroll, and he asked me to keep around with him to keep his automatic gardening tools in check, so the strange weeds wouldn't grow too far on them.
I once got spit at by the plants, and it hurt a lot. But one of the guys was a doctor, and he patched me up real quickly. It felt wonderful, too, he was pretty funny!
We all sang while walking around, and it was an incredibly friendly enviroment, despite the kind of aggressive plants. I think some of the guys didn't like me very much, they looked weird at me, like they were afraid. I guess that suit really made me look like a weirdo!
One day I was feeling a bit tired from all that work, and my heart raced as my mask fell off.
I looked around at all the corpses I've been burning, and the people I've been shooting with incendiaries.
I put my mask on again, and resumed singing and whistling:
"Do you believe in magic~" | "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine was my CO, everything in the company was his territory.
"Sir, I have the upmost respect for you, this battalion, and our great country. It's just that I don't feel comfortable devoting my life to a military that broke my one golden rule. Never deceive me."
"Well I suppose I can't blame you, Specialist. But this ends here. I'm afraid I have to report you to the MP's."
"They'll kill both of us, you do know that?"
"I do. But I swore an oath, Specialist Donnowitz, and I intend to keep it."
"I respect your sense of justice, sir, but with all due respect you haven't worn the glasses. Here, tell me how important your oath is after wearing these."
Donnowitz tossed his pair of specialized eye pro issued to him by the military to a reluctant Aldo Raine.
"...."
"Understand now?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine could not hear the specialist. The only thing he could focus on was his former deceased brother in arms, Private Hans Landa, standing before him, mocking him with his clenched teeth.
| 2017-06-20T00:45:54 | 2017-06-20T00:31:30 | 3,857 | 17 |
[WP] The apocalypse happened but not before Disney developed an advanced AI driven robotic Mickey Mouse and friends. Now they protect a group of children from the horrors of the world. | Mickey scanned the horizon, looking for any signs of his yellow-furred friend. Pluto had been gone for hours, and the children were starting to get antsy. But they couldn't leave without him - any intel on The Enemy was desperately needed - and besides, Pluto was Mickey's best friend. Especially now that the others had all... *were* all...
"Mr. Mickey Mouse?"
The voice jostled Mickey from his thoughts; he turned toward the boy beside him, who was awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot, biting his lip and fumbling with his fingers. The boy, Peter, was nearly a teenager, but he'd met Mickey five years ago when the End Days had started. Back then, his eyes had glistened with magic, with fairies and wishing stars and talking mice. But now, there was no belief. No sense of hope. No trace of the child he once had been.
"Is Pluto coming back?" Peter questioned.
"Golly, he sure is, Peter!"
"But the last time you said -"
"He. *Sure*. Is, Peter!"
Peter winced at the Mouse's tone, and Mickey physically felt the wince. It stabbed where his stomach would have been, and not for the first time, Mickey wondered why he had been made with emotions.
"Aww shucks, Peter!" he tried to amend. "I didn't mean to make you -"
"It's fine, Mr. Mickey Mouse."
"But Peter, I -"
"It's *fine* Mr. Mickey." The boy held up a hand and shook his head, and his eyes were so hollow. So utterly absent. Less alive than Mickey's own.
Without another word, Peter turned around and headed for the group of other children. They all sat around a fire, huddled for warmth, huddled for the sense of others and closeness and friendship. Mickey could not give them these things. He could only offer them safety. And even that was growing difficult to secure, because The Enemy was growing closer and closer each day.
In many ways, The Enemy was not so different from Mickey himself. They were both robots. They were both created to uphold certain morals and teach certain lessons. But in the important ways, the two were nothing alike. Mickey wanted to protect the children. He wanted nothing more than for them to be happy. But The Enemy craved their demise; they smiled at the children and pretended to love them as they planned for a world without them.
Mickey knew this because Walt had shown him *everything*: the future, and all the steps that would lead to it.
It had started many years ago with the wisps, which had led to the mutations. And those had led to their present threat, the one which was currently stalking them. Soon, talking animals would appear. And it would all end with sentient cars, giant bugs. Monsters. Unless Mickey could change their fates.
...But he didn't think he could.
It had been nearly a week since his last encounter with The Enemy, but he knew they were coming. They were always coming. And this time would mark their last battle, but he wasn't sure how it would end.
But there was one thing the Mouse was certain of. One thing he refused to lose faith in:
Even if The Enemy emerged victorious, he would make sure the children's final wishes all came true. | PART 1
"C'mon, Stevie! Ya really gotta give it everything," I yelled, the dread starting to creep in. "The gate's closing!" My boy was trailing too far behind, and the cacophony of footfalls and snarling and growling were beginning to become deafening. I knew I didn't have the strength to hold a gate that big open for him, and I certainly didn't have time to run back for him. *It's either jump in or jump out,* I told myself.
"Wait!" cried Stevie, pumping his little legs as fast as he could.
Amidst the panic, I suddenly realized I was actually considering leaving my son to die like the rest. *What have I become?*
Stevie collapsed at the foot of the hill. The stampede was closing in on him.
*Why didn't I pick him up before?* It was too late for hindsight. I could let him face the ravenous beasts alone, or die with him. There was no time to think-- I had to choose.
"Stevie!" With all I had I ran for him, picking up rocks and sticks and hurling them over his heaving frame into the darkness.
PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK.
*That's odd... What did I just throw?* For a moment it seemed like the horde began to fall over itself in fear at the sound.
BAH-BAH-BOOOOOOOOM! Streams of multicolored fire spewed from 3 individual points high in the sky, falling into perfect spheres. In the momentary brightness, I caught the gruesome skeletal profiles of the hording beasts as they pulled away in fear, their bodies beginning to wither and billow with black smoke. I finally made it to Stevie and scooped him up in my arms. "I've got you," I exclaimed.
PUH-PUH-PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK.
KA-KA-BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM! The thunderous display was all too wonderful. The soft ashes of the beasts began to float into the heavens. *It's like the 4th of July in Disney World*, I thought. *Wait a second...*
"Wull hi, boys!" Sang a familiar voice from behind us. "Welcome to Epcot, the last sanctuary! Did you like the show?"
My son beamed through his tears. "It's like you always said, Dad." | 2015-04-29T19:07:44 | 2015-04-29T18:18:46 | 94 | 46 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | Trajan sat on the porch of his family's farm. It was a quiet early summer evening. The work had mostly been done, setting the farm to rights. Readying it for her return. The fields were sown, the little brook babbled, the chickens meandered the small herb garden, the tree they had been wed under cast pleasant shade, and the boundary fence was painted a fresh white.
When Julia came to the gate, tattered and worn, Trajan felt a spike of concern in his breast. Being the chosen hero must have been so hard for her. He would have to take care to help her settle back into a calm life and heal. All he wanted was for her to be happy with him again.
He crunched down the path of fine white gravel to meet her.
"Welcome back love. You're home."
Tears poured from her eyes and the hilt of the shattered sword of light tumbled from her limp fingers. "How could you?"
"Well, I wanted you to come home didn't I?" Trajan said as he reached out and took her limp hands in his. "I would do anything to have our family again, I love you."
She looked away from him, out past the boundary fences. He knew she was looking at the ebony plains of blackend grass and twisted briars that grew outside their farm. The skeletal husk that had once been the hamlet of Greencreek. The occasional gleam of chitin and endless legs crawling in the deeper shadows.
Trajan caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore love, you're home. No more grand quest, the world can't take you away from me again." He kissed her brow, she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. Small and broken. He would have to work hard to help her heal.
Deep inside him he felt the Slithering Darkness twist and writh slightly. He knew it would never die, not until its mission was done. Not until all life was snuffed out. But it couldn't act against him anymore. He had crept into its temple, took its writhing coils in hand and bit down. Consuming it's vile flesh. Stygian Acid blood boiling down his throat and a million claws tearing at his soul. Bite by bite he ate the beast, subsumed it's boundless hunger to his eternal love. All to avert the prophecy that would take Julia from him forever.
"*The chosen hero will seal the beast with her. For a hundred thousand years. In a realm adrift in the plains of death.*"
How could a loving husband allow such a fate to come to pass. If the world would ask such a sacrifice, what right did it have to be saved?
She met his eyes. Hers held emotion he had never seen in them before. He would have to ask her what she was feeling. Later though. For now she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm home love." She said with watery eyes. | It had become a routine, tending to the gardens in the afternoon when work was done. Miko expected to forget, to get over it all, yet five long years and Lari’s face still shows up in almost every dream she had. It had become a ritual, taking care of the flowers her wife had loved so much, a remnant of someone who might not even be alive. She didn’t like to think of such possibilities.
When they received the notice from the Oracle: Larissa, chosen by light to defeat the demon king, they were shocked. But after long deliberation Lari decided to step foot on the journey, promising to write letters frequently.
The first year Miko waited, then second, then third… No letter arrived, no news from the villages nearby. She tried to search, for any semblance of her wife’s whereabouts, and every attempt ended with a dead end.
Knock Knock. There was a gentle tapping on the door. Miko grabbed the candles and slid open the lock.
Underneath the moonlight was Lari’s face, it was almost like she hadn’t changed at all after the years passing.
“Lari?” She asked gently.
There was sorrow on the hero’s face.
“I’m sorry, Miko… I’m so sorry, but please hear me explain…”
She waited for Lari to collect her thoughts.
“I defeated the demon king, it took me about… 4 weeks in total to arrive and have a final battle. I was so excited, I was victorious. Then when I emerged from the demon realm I realized something was horribly wrong. Years… had passed in the mere hours I spent fighting, and many thought I was dead. I immediately thought about you, and I…I…” She couldn’t continue, there was tears in her eyes.
“Oh.” Miko managed to utter out in surprise.
“I understand if you’ve moved on or…. I’m just…”
Lari was cut off from the warmth of Miko’s hug. “Nonsense, I’m just glad you were alive.”
“I’m so sorry.” She muttered.
“Don’t be.”
They sat by the fireplace, recounting Lari’s adventure. And when the sun rises again, despite everything that happened, it was like nothing had changed. | 2022-08-12T18:40:02 | 2022-08-12T17:33:00 | 62 | 11 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | "There is a time and place for everything."
Faultline shivers, eyes beseeching the darkness to give up the nightmare contained with in. He'd heard of the creature, a hero twisted and malformed until it switched sides. It slaughtered its friends and civilians alike before vanishing entirely.
He thought it had died.
It laughs, voice echoing in the empty warehouse.
He can't quite pinpoint the sound.
The darkness swells twenty feet away before spitting out a six-year-old girl with flowing waves of auburn hair.
Faultline recognizes it as a child he killed two days prior. He steels his spine, but the quaking fear does not abate.
It looks at him with wide, blind eyes. The innocent expression it carries is tainted by a growing smile; it splits the corners of its mouth until black blood drips from the wounds.
The air is... sweet.
"What do you want, Skinwalker?"
Another laugh, this one high and lilting with the memory of spring. "So you recognized me..." The 'skin' splits in several places and falls to the ground as tall, lanky creature of shadow and bones shoots out of its prison. "I admire you, and I would like to make..." The 'skin' disolves into shadow and slides back into Skinwalker's core. "...a deal."
Faultline freezes for a moment, mind racing as a thought comes to mind: demons make deals for the victim's soul. When his mouth comes unstuck, he musters enough courage to ask, "what kind of deal?"
Skinwalker's milky eyes crinkle in amusement, and with one long, lanky arm, it caresses his face. "Hope."
"What?"
Another skin blooms around the beast, revealing the hero it once was. Anastacia Klaudia Skin was the superhero named Skinwalker, a shapeshifter that could turn into any animal she came into contact with. She was the hope-giver... She was the one to still fearful hearts and sooth crying children...
She was the one who refused to turn into another human or humanoid.
Skinwalker smiles so sweetly. "I know you kill heroes, Faultline... and I do not mind, if it is not one of the children."
Faultline knows what it references: the junior heroes.
"Hope is addicting," it continues. "I would be so very annoyed if hope died out in this city." Faultline knows what it will do if he refuses; the city's history of random villains who vanish within a few weeks suddenly make sense. "Do we have a deal?"
Faultline nods and takes its outstretched hand. "Deal." | I am practicing songwriting. So here is a musical theater piece on a villain that clearly out-matches his adversaries. It's a comedy song
Nothing irks me quite like knowing that they'll never see my pity
Nothing rattles me to shame to think they've really done their best
It's not enough to pest this city
And with every passing tick you'd think it can't get any clearer
The maze he's yet to clear, the bomb is ticking ever nearer
He's still caught up in the mirror
Wonder-man, I'm dying to know
How that's ever gonna make a dent
But it's pretty strong as lasers go
(Clicks around security monitor)
Now let's check up on the Wingman, has he bolted through the glass?
I'd say last time was near perfect, I even called the head adjuster
(See human figure dangling from a suspension cable)
Guess he forgot the rocket thruster
(Cable snaps)
. . Boots . .
(Movement from the ceiling)
And then let's not forget Ms. Amazoness up above
Who lost count which lefts to take, I had to turn the heat to two
The things I do for love
Hey you Bruce, up in that vent
I'd like to warm up, progress the show
And quit stomping man, I rent!
All sides undone,
Hands coiling fast,
Will you have time to pray
Or have they failed you too
Reaching for words some
Can make their spirits last
But I won't let this day
Save me in any way
If anyone would come
Remind me what it is
That made a villain fun
That made a tyrant rage
I'm walking off the stage,
The bomb's defused, good night | 2021-05-20T08:00:26 | 2021-05-20T07:57:21 | 78 | 19 |
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate. | *Rumors of some world's end monster had been circulating for the past few days. I could hear all the men telling their versions of this supposed creature. A giant dragon type beast? The biblical leviathan? Perhaps some huge underwater base? Preposterous. We'd have heard or seen some massive sea monster long before now. And IF some secret world government facility were out here, we'd have long had some conspiracy theories floating about.*
I remember thinking all that, as now, something I could only ever imagine seeing in my worst nightmares came to life. Beyond the size of a small city, long as the tallest buildings, it ascended from the depths. Of the earth? Hell itself? I don't know. A mix of some underwater serpent and a demon, I immediately went cold in my blood, as I could only imagine the ways we were about to be killed.
We weren't ready.
We weren't ready...when it spoke.
*WHY HAVE I BEEN SUMMONED?!*
It was loud alright, but it wasn't carrying force behind it's voice. I half expected our ship with all 1,000+ of our crew to go flying in to the ocean's depths, but...
I didn't know what to do. But, being the captain, I had to step forward...
"Summoned?"
*YES! FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS I HAVE SLEPT, AWAITING MY SUMMONS. I AM ONLY TO BE CALLED WHEN THIS PLANET OR THE UNIVERSE ITSELF IS IN DANGER!*
"The univ...wait. Wait! The universe!? Why would the universe be in danger?"
*DO NOT WASTE MY TIME! IF I HAVE BEEN FALSELY AWAKENED, THE CONSEQUENCES FOR SUCH ACTIONS WILL BE DIRE*
Why would my crew and I have been sent out to investigate this...this thing? I was still terrified, but now a mixture of confusion and anger set in. I have no idea what is going on. We weren't soldiers, and it wouldn't have mattered! I'm staring at the biggest entity mankind has ever seen, and it's saying it's been summoned to save possibly the universe? From what?! What is going on??
I tried to somehow feebly reason...
"Creature, beast, whatever you are, we were merely sent out to investigate a massive abandonment of sea creatures in this area. No one has informed us of a summoning, or a world threat. We have no idea what's going on. You're saying the universe is in danger but quite frankly, our humankind had no idea there was even anything, or anyone, out there besides us. We didn't even know a being like you existed!
The creature seemed to ponder everything I'd said for what seemed like an eternity.
*It's been too long...something not from here must have summoned me...I MUST WARN THE OTHERS!*
The giant creature fully emerged from the water, a massive sight to behold, engaging wings the size of buildings, and flew straight up in to the air...and kept going. Through the atmosphere of our planet, and out of human sight, faster than anything I've ever seen.
Just like that, everything was calm again. The waters were calm, like nothing had even happened...
I still don't know what to do...
| First time writing so be gentle.
"I didn't mean to!" Tim exclaimed as he ran away from the side of the ship.
"Darn it, Tim..." I sighed, "I told you to be careful with that; if they find out that we lost it RIGHT after being told not to, they're gonna kill us! ...or worse! Take us home.."
Tim let out a short gasp as he struggled to find the words or actions to carry out to make things right.
"Just... don't touch anything." I said before he carried out some other "plan" to try to retrieve the lost item.
Tim sat there with a panicked look on his face as he just looked down into the mass of water he had just lost a prized possession to.
"So, here's the plan.. I'm going to go down there and try to retrieve the item before anyone notices that we don't have it anymore." I explained.
Tim tensed at the thought, "But, we don't have any rope or flotation devices to help if something goes wr-"
"I'll be okay." I say before he finishes his sentence. "All I have to do, is jump in and grab it real quick and jump back out. Nobody will even notice that we're not both still here!"
Tim reluctantly dropped his head in both sadness and embarrassment knowing none of this would be happening if it weren't for him. He hands me his knife that his father had given to him for his 6th birthday and says, "Be safe down there, buddy." with a big dumb smile.
I smiled back and jumped in.
As I got closer to it, I slowly realized that I'm not able to swim and started to panic.
Tim started screaming loudly, "Help! Somebody help! Danny is drowning!"
Everything starts to get dark as I look back up and see my best friend, Tim. Looking down in horror as I just sink further and further down into the depths of the water, then everything goes dark..
The next thing I remember is coughing up a lot of water and everything kind of spinning back into view.
I lay for a second longer just to grasp that I didn't die. As I look up at the person hunched over me I realize he's yelling, "Danny, do you hear me? Are you okay?!"
I respond with a weak voice and tears in my eyes, "Yeah, dad.. I'm okay.." | 2017-11-17T07:04:57 | 2017-11-17T07:00:35 | 99 | 16 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | Sighing, I turned to the ground. The special plastic floor was charred black.The trial led to the living room. The culprit was nowhere to be found.
"Oreo ! How many times do I have to remind you, don't burn the floor!"
A dog came out of the room. Oreoresi was a black skinned dog, with 6 beautiful blue eyes. Yes, six. Oreoresi had 3 heads. He also had a snake tail.
Oh, and he breathes fire too. All part of the fun.
He had come from a dream. Have you heard of lucid dreams? The concept is you being conscious that you are dreaming. Lucid dreaming, you could do anything you wanted. Fly. Break the earth into halves. Run at the speed of light. All part of the fun.
Oreo had been on the side of the road. He was in a box. "Please adopt me", it said. Being the nice dreamer that I was, I picked the little doggo up. I was snapped out of the dream just after. The dog was sitting beside me.
Oh shit.
I was scared. Who wouldn't be, having a dog they picked up in a dream come into real life. But I had learned to love him.
Then he had started growing his body parts. First was the 2 heads. Bringing oreo to the vet, i had tried to inquire. What dog? The vet had said. So apparently only i could see him. After time, I had learnt not to ask too many questions. Having a dog was already bliss.
A knock on the door. That was odd.I peeked through the front camera. There were 2 men at the door. One was short, with blonde hair and strangely muffled features. The other was tall, wearing a pair of blue glasses on his head.They both wore uniforms, emblazened with D. O. H. That was strange. Were they government people of some sort?
If so it better to open the door. The short man looked at me, flashing a badge. "D.O.H. We have the understanding that you are currently taking care of a chimera?"
Oreo bounded out. And stopped. He seemed to recgonise the men. A look of fear came into his eyes and he started to whimper. I was thoroughly creeped out.
That was the beginning. It only got worse. I should have never taken oreo. Never. I was about to enter a land full of wonder and mysteries. I spoke the words that would begin my journey.Three words I would never forget.
"Who are you?" | I've never been much of a dog person. Honestly I wasn't much of an animal person, though I'd certainly argue certain points. I never wanted a pet, or a companion, or anything of the sort.
So, you might ask, why was there a puppy in my room? Well, long story short, it was fuckin adorable. Big ass eyes, looking all pitiful and loveable. And now I have a puppy.
I don't know how to take care of a puppy, but that was the least of my concerns as time went on. Somehow, all the puppy's toys were being burned to a crisp. Turns out the lil shit could breathe fire.
Then, his tail grew into a snake. A fully autonomous snake. So now I had two pets, and I'll remind you, i didn't even want one.
But of course, that couldn't be the end. *He grew two more heads!* And guess what? All those could breathe fire too!
These...abnormalities all happened in the space of a month. Thankfully, the dog(s?) ate dog food and the snake ate mice. Honestly, as long as I let Kirby out to let off a little steam (Read: Fire) he seemed content.
Until the day he talked.
"Hey, uhh, Human? Why do I only get this dead dry stuff? The tail gets live meat..."
I set down the book I was trying to finish, and gave Kirby a deadpan glance.
"How long have you been able to talk?"
He paused to consider the question, the snake curling around to join in the pondering.
"Like...always? I think? I just never had anything th say." I let him out to hunt after that.
Honestly, I'm not much of an animal person. But a Cerberus? I think I can make an exception a time or 3. | 2019-07-04T07:23:00 | 2019-07-04T07:02:31 | 150 | 29 |
[WP]The potion seller places the love potion of the counter and say "Before I can sell you this, are you certain that the other isn't in love with you?" | Jason nudged the $100 bill across to the man at the desk. The potion seller was a large man, with weathered wrinkly skin, thick lips and a double chin, but his hands were small for his size. He examined the note with care, running his tiny fingers over the paper, and then bringing it close to his bulbous green eyes.
Jason hid his annoyance with his perfect smile, white teeth on show. Of course the note wasn’t fake. People who wore designer shirts made out of silk, bespoke Italian suits and handstitched leather shoes, didn’t carry funny money. But it wouldn’t do to get angry here.
The potion seller seemed satisfied as the bill disappeared into his pocket and, in the same motion, he whipped out a small vial with a clear liquid in it. He placed it on the grubby counter.
“Before I can sell this, are you certain the other person isn’t in love with you?”
Jason wasn’t sure why the old man cared. As far as Jason was concerned, he already owned the potion, he’d paid for it. If the seller was worried about side effects, Jason could have listed them all in order, alphabetical or otherwise. He’d done his research. Jason was meticulous about everything he did. And he wouldn’t have set foot in the filthy hovel of a shop, if he didn’t know what he was buying.
“Well, if the other person is already in love with you, the potion could cause intense hatred. They say there’s a thin line between love and hate, well this potion is the bridge they don’t tell you about. I’m talking murderous hatred, unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” the potion seller said, after Jason hadn’t replied.
Jason picked up the bottle, whispered a quick “Thank you,” before tucking the bottle into his jacket pocket. He ignored the look of disapproval on the potion sellers face, before he pulled open the rickety door and walked out.
Jason was sitting at the dinner table fantasizing about what was about to happen, when he heard Laura’s key turn in the lock. This plan had taken three long weeks to develop, and he couldn’t believe everything was now in place. Jason had spoken to countless potion makers, and been on hundreds of internet forums before finally discovering this one.
He found it odd that many people sold love potions, but no one sold one to make you hate. He knew she still loved him, she told him every day. But ever since he’d seen the texts on her phone, he knew he was no longer the only one.
She was on time today, as she always was on a Tuesday. Her office closed early, so she couldn’t tell him she was working late. Laura would smell the roasted duck from the door, and Jason rushed to remove it from the oven so everything would be ready when she sat down.
He also took out the chilled half bottle of Pinot Noir from the fridge. He’d used a syringe to poke a hole in the cork, and then emptied the whole vial into the bottle. She would finish the whole thing. She drank too much when she had duck.
“Darling,” Laura said, as she swept into the room.
He had to admit she was still as gorgeous as when they’d met at a legal convention in New York, five years ago. Her chestnut brown hair hung loosely from her shoulders, and her blouse whilst not quite low cut, hinted at the ample treasures within. Her midnight blue eyes were sparkling, and she kissed him on the lips before she sat down. He couldn’t stand how breathtakingly beautiful she was.
“You did all this for me,” she said, her voice was seductive at home, husky, but prosecutors called her Lethal Laura for a reason.
“This is why I love you,” she said.
Jason smiled back, as she poured herself a generous glass, “I love you too,” he said, but crossed his fingers underneath the table.
She would never divorce him. He knew that. Not whilst she was in love with him. Not with the iron clad prenup. Not whilst he made far more money than she did, and not whilst he had a wealthy father to inherit from.
The private detective Jason hired couldn’t find any proof. The texts had disappeared. Her computer was clean. She was always where she’d said she would be. Jason knew it would be Laura who had to suggest the divorce. And he smiled at his genius as she sipped more wine.
He hated her so much, it was causing him headaches, although she wouldn't know it. He couldn’t forgive infidelity. She’d made a fool out of him. A cuckold. A laughing stock. Less than a man.
He’d been extra sweet the past few weeks, even when he could smell the cologne on her when she snuck into bed after her late-night meetings. She needed to hate him. And he knew from his research that the potion had a 100% success rate.
Jason watched as she drank the last of the wine.
He saw the look in her eyes transform. The midnight blue eyes seemed to get even darker. Her cheeks were now a bright crimson despite the makeup. He loathed her. And he knew as he watched her face and body language change, the feeling was becoming mutual. Laura bolted up from the chair like she was possesed and shoved the table over, everything that was on it cluttered on to the gleaming tiles.
Jason began to panic; he hadn’t heeded the potion seller’s warning. Murderous hatred, the old man said. Jason was stronger than Laura. He towered over her by several inches, and he’d been studying karate since he was a child. But the intensity in her gaze was beyond anything he’d ever seen. He felt the knots of fear tangling in his belly.
Laura lunged at him, jumping on him and knocking him to the floor. It was like she was in a trance. She grabbed her phone from where it had fallen, but she was still pinning him down. And he noticed with horror that the knife he’d used to carve the duck was just within her reach. Jason couldn’t move his body. Fear had paralysed him. Over twenty years of karate and when he needed it the most, his body was failing him.
“Hello Ken,” Lethal Laura said into the phone, her voice was pure business. She was sitting on him and Jason couldn’t move a muscle, “I don’t care that you’re with your wife. I wanted to let you know we’re through. And I quit, effective today. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’ve fallen in love with my husband again. I love him so much it feels like my heart is going to burst. All I want, all I need is him. I never want to see you again.” | Apologies if the characters in this story get confusing. I don’t want mind readers to know about these… things.
The words that came from the Potioness made me think. Did she? I….hmm. I dart my eyes back and forth, making special note of her standing outside laughing with the party.
“N-No. I don’t think so.”
“I sense uncertainty. I need definite answers.”, the Potioness replied
I feel my body grow weak and my face heat up. I’m a generally serious leader. I don’t get like this. But that wrecking question.
“ I…. don’t know.”
“You must love her a great deal for all this trouble.”
“Yeah… I really do.”
“I remember feeling like that, once.”, she starts. “This isn’t a normal potion. You must get said person to smell it. Once you open the bottle, the liquid will start to evaporate. Place it next to her while she sleeps and she will smell a good amount of it. “
“Thanks a lot, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, lovestruck.” she jokingly replies
I collect my things and leave. I hide the love potion in my internal vest pocket. I grabbed another slew of things for everyone else in a fur bag. As I walk outside, I drop the bag, and pick it up, but I overhear my party talking
“…well, if you feel that way, why don’t you say?”
And I hear the golden words come from the girl I love
“ It’s not that simple. He’s so serious most of the time that I’m convinced he’s not interested. But I am. And I don’t know how to say it. None of you advice is working.”
“ He’s just incredibly dense. That’s just him. Now, you may want to write what I’m about to say down in that Thunderbird hide journal of yours.”
For context, there are 5 party members.
They all give her advice and she writes it down.
My knees feel like water and my heartbeat grows machine gun rapid. I can’t believe it
Eventually, my best friends goes, “What the hell is taking him so long?”
Not listening, someone else goes, “Oh look, love potions. I didn’t know those were a thing. Maybe you should buy one.”
Using this as an opportunity, I pop out of the store and say, “ Who needs a love potion?”, acting like I hadn’t heard the entire conversation.
“Oh, ummm….” She says in panic
No one says anything
“Okay, weird. I got the stuff. Let’s head to the mountain range so we can get there early.”, I say nonchalantly. But as we hike, I can’t stop thinking about it. My heart is so racing fast and my body feels hot.
We finally set camp in a clearing on a large hill. Overlooking the hill is the clear moon, perfectly seen from above the ridge. It was perfect. I couldn’t let it merely slip by. I step out of my tent and walk towards the end of the clearing. I stare at the moon… and decide to practice my spells. Sun, Wind, Lightning, and the forbidden art of Neceomancy. All my specialty. Eventually, I sit and stare at the moon. I hear footsteps and I turn to see. It’s her. She looks at me and asks what I’m doing.
“ Just… sitting.”, I say nervously
“Just sitting? The why was there a skeleton knocking at my tent door pointing this direction?”
“ Oh, my bad. I was practicing.”
I motion my hand and a skeleton shambles closer out of the distance. I make a fist and he disappears.
“Sorry about that. What do you need?”
“Just heard some noise, is all.” But she clearly needed something. She looked lonely.
“I know something is wrong.” I motion for her to come sit next to me. Her eyes widen for a split second, and she comes and sits. I feel warmer now. More comfortable. For some reason, I reach into my jacket and pull the cork off the love potion in my jacket pocket. As the Potioness said, It doesn’t work. She just smells something and says,
“Why does it smell like cinnamon?”
Yes. Thanks gods. Now all to do is just confess. But I don’t. We just sit there and stare at the stars. We’d known each other since childhood, and If never had more of an awkward moment with her since this night. We both liked each other, but only one of us knew it. I eventually grew tired and was about to stand and go sleep in my tent, but she suddenly falls asleep. She had been sitting with her back facing mine, and she fell asleep against me. I’m in a position where I can’t get up. So I stay. I stay, redder than a cherry sitting there. The whole world disappeared for that night. I talked to myself about how awesome this was and that I was finally going up. As suddenly as she fell asleep, she gets up, moves to my shoulder side and looks at me. She’s redder than hell, and looks like she’s gonna cry
“Really?”, she says in an inquisitive manner.
“Uhhhhhhhh…”, I barely am able to say. My mind is still processing the fact that she faked being asleep to hear that. My stomach drops to my toes because I just don’t know what to say.
So after another awkward 5 minutes, I say,
“I love you at lot. I never knew how to say it.”
She looks at me with a gleam in her eyes
“I overheard the conversation you and the guys had at the potion shop. I actually bought a potion of love from there hoping it would’ve worked. I’m sorry if it sounds like I was gonna use a potion for that..”
And then, my alarm goes off. It’s morning. In my tent. Fuck | 2022-07-28T13:58:02 | 2022-07-28T12:37:50 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] You are a true immortal. You stay sane by hanging out with the descendants of friends that are long dead. Today, one said a very familiar phrase you haven't heard in a long time. | Writing on mobile, sorry for typos. This got slightly longer than I wanted it to.
Immortality is a weird thing. As much as some people long for it, it also brings pain, mostly emotional. I don't even know anymore when and how I became immortal. One day I just survived a fall into a canyon that no human should be able to survive. That was the first indicator that I'm immortal. As time went on I realized I wasn't aging either.
After figuring out what was going on, I was overjoyed. I became an adventurer and fought various monsters. Due to my immortality I could take on opponents nobody else could and win. Every single time. That made me quite famous, but as people started to become suspicious I had to quit. Most species of monsters were already extinct by that point in time and the only jobs adventurers still got was protecting caravans and other boring stuff.
I wish monsters would still be around, at least I would be needed for something. These days I'm on the move most of the time. A lonely wanderer, stopping for at most a month at a time in order to prevent too many questions. Once you've been to almost every place on this planet worth visiting there is, it gets kinda boring. Every so often I check on the descendants of my party members from back then. They don't know who I am, so it's quite some work to find and meet up with them. Sometimes they know me as a wise hermit, other times I'm their instructor. These meetings they don't even know are meetings are what keeps me sane. Even immortals have a limit on how much loneliness they can handle.
I enter a tavern on my way back to the capital of the empire I currently happen to be in. There are quite some patrons, but luckily some tables are still free. Music is playing and everyone seems to be enjoying their drinks after work. Having ordered some wine, I sit down at a table and try to relax to the music. The song ends and an short applause erupts, then everyone goes back to their drinks. Taking small sips of my wine, I patiently wait on the next song to start. A younger woman walks up on the stage and the instrumental intro begins. The melody sounds familliar, but I can't remember where I've heard it. Shrugging, I take another sip. The woman on the stage starts to sing.
I can't understand a word, yet it sounds so familliar. It seems like ancient elvish. Darn, I used to speak that language fluently and now can't understand a simple song? As I try to find whatever's left of my ancient elvish knowledge in my head, I intensely listen to the song. Instead of linguistics, I remember the name of this song: Moonlight Dragon Sonata. Instantly I'm confused. In all my life I've only known one woman who could properly sing this melody, its creator and my former party member and dear friend, Xena Alterbaum. Not that others haven't tried. Closing my eyes, I listen further and eventually remember the text in elvish.
"... Any dimension. Any place. Any time. ..."
Her voice starts to feel familiar too. Could it be on of her descendants? But I don't think dragon pacts are hereditary...? I open my eyes and inspect her. Her eyes are glowing slightly silver, just like Xena's did whe she sang. For a moment, our eyes lock. I could never forget those eyes. It's not one of her descendants, it's *her*. In bone and flesh. How??
If she recognized me, she doesn't show it. The audience is wide-eyed as the song reaches its peak and ends. It takes them a couple moments to recover and then an applause erupts. I'm in my corner unable to move, still processing my realization. Could she be immortal too, or what's going on here? After everything dies down a bit, bards start playing the next song and she walks back to her table. Surprisingly, she's alone. Collecting my thoughts, I get up and walk over.
"Excuse me, do you have a moment, *Xena*?" She turns to me, her jaw dropping. "Nobody has called me that in about forever. *Who* are you?" I simply smile and offer her my hand "Eniallis Hollimion, long time no see. About 2000 years I believe." She keeps staring at me. We both have some explaining to do. | It was storming out, enough rain to cover your ankles on the ground, with massive thunderclaps and lightning strikes leaving no silence. Inside the shotgun seat of a military APC sat a young woman in a dark grey jacket over German forest camouflage. She looked out at the rain, and used the old trick to tell how far away the lightning was. Seven kilometres. Interesting.
A small handful of soldiers were in the back, dressed in similar clothes to the woman in front. They carried M27 rifles, and most were playing on their phones or playing simple games with each other. Curled up in the very back was a sleeping civilian, dressed in a trench coat. This civilian was of interesting note; he was an ‘immortal’, one of seven. They were indecisive as to what they actually were, but their presence was known by the world ever since they revealed themselves in 2027. This one called himself Azraēl, and chose to work with Europe.
The seven immortals referred to each other as siblings. All seven could sprout wings, usually one pair, but up to seventeen had been observed at once. They are believed to have been on the earth for longer than humans have, which is true. They were banished, cast from the sky, very long ago. Unluckily, their crash landing was seen as a meteor to the strange feathered dragons who lived before.
The APC reached the entrance to the base, a secret one in the mountains known as ‘Silent Heaven’. It was built to house the Immortal, away from prying eyes.
«APC 616 to Gatekeeper; please open, over?»
The woman in front said over the radio, as the robotic driver could not.
«Gatekeeper to APC 616; opening. Enjoy the weather, over.»
The APC drove in, making it’s way to HQ. Azraēl yawned, stretched, and sat up. He pulled a book out of his trench coat, and began reading it. As the car came to a stop, the Immortal was the first to exit. The rain seemed to shy away from him, keeping him dry. The female soldier approached, and he pointed to the building.
“Lead on, Miss Štorm,” he said, in a vaguely Hebrew accent. Štorm nodded and the two entered into the HQ. They went through the entrance formalities, and approached the CO.
“Anything to report?” He asked, and the two stared that there was nothing.
“Interesting. But don’t let your guard down; there’s a storm brewing, I can tell you that,” Azraēl nodded to what the CO said. He could almost feel it in the air; a tension, ever since his brothers and sisters revealed themselves. The last person to say what the CO did was the same one who led the Winged Hussars’ charge to save Vienna; Jan Sobieski. Before that, the Pope has said it a mere week before the very first Crusade. What might happen this time? Would his siblings make the same mistakes, lead their followers to war? Azraēl dearly hoped that wasn’t the case, but it happened often enough for him to know better.
«MOTHER to SILENT HEAVEN CO, message, over!»
The radio flared to life.
«SILENT HEAVEN CO, send, over!»
«Deploy PEACEKEEPERS to Japan and Iraq, we have a situation, over!»
«Solid copy, out!»
Azraēl shook his head. This happened every time. | 2019-03-08T05:05:48 | 2019-03-08T04:22:12 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You have a mountain lair with a lava lake, have a knack for elaborate machines, traps and plots, frequently ignore the law on purpose, own a Death-Ray, and dress predominantly dark colours. You even have a perfect evil laugh! Yet, SOMEHOW, the Alliance of Superheroes still calls you a good guy! | ######[](#dropcap)
Gorlin's eye twitched.
This was not how he'd imagined things going down. He gazed impassively as the man who would have been his perfect partner-in-crime, Yeshnu, slowly dissolved in the lake of lava, the viscous liquid bubbling and hissing as it swallowed him whole. Gorlin brought a hand up to his temple and massaged it with the pads of his fingertips, careful to keep his long, black fingernails away from his skin. He'd given himself an accidental scratch more than once, and although it he was glad that his minions thought he'd returned from yet another skirmish with superheroes, he didn't appreciate the pain.
He *hated* paper cuts, and these hurt more than those.
A sharp exhale from behind him caught his attention. He turned to face a small, roundish jelly blob, its large eyes gazing at him in wonder as it blubbered something excitedly in Lecurian.
"No!" Gorlin protested, exasperated, his eyebrows knitting together. "I did *not* kill him on purpose!"
The minion continued to blubber, it's tinny voice raising higher in pitch now.
"For the last time, Koozor, he fell in himself," Gorlin argued through gritted teeth. "I can't help it if they're all inherently stupid. And I don't want to hear anymore about it!" He stalked off the metal platform, his heavy steel boots clunking against the grated metal and echoing in the vast chamber. He stormed toward his chamber, ignoring the crowds of minions asking various questions along the way. He dove into his bed, rolled himself in the black, silk covers, and began to sulk.
It was really quite unfair. Maluna, his mortal enemy, basically got everything right on the first try. She'd not only taken out Core, a key member of the Alliance of the Superheroes, but she'd also managed to earn their respect by making it onto their list of Top Level Threats. That was even higher status than the list of Critical Threats, which any self respecting villain had to make it onto, otherwise they risked not getting an invitation to the annual Evil Gala.
If you didn't make it onto the list for the Evil Gala, you might as well not exist. Cooperating with Yeshnu had been a last resort--he really didn't care for the guy much--and it was once again a bust. He groaned. And there was only two days left before the gala. He was screwed. He was really, really screwed.
Just as he was about to try and begin concocting another brilliant scheme, his wrist began to buzz. Someone was at his lair entrance. Gorlin pressed on the answer button, and a large screen popped up in midair. When he saw who it was though, his lips pursed together.
"What do you want?" he grunted.
The boy with silver hair in the middle of the screen grinned. "Hey, buddy! We heard what happened!"
"Yeah, you're all over the news! You're a hero!" Nevi, the girl next to him, nodded excitedly, her ponytail bouncing up and down. Little flickers of fire sparked around her as she jumped up and down. Marcel, the boy, sidestepped to avoid the flames. Gorlin wanted to scream. It was definitely Koozor. That little blob had the biggest fucking mouth.
"For the last time," Gorlin growled, "I'm not joining your stupid society. And you can take back your celebratory statements. They're not welcome here."
"Oh, come on, Gorlin," Nevi coaxed, her hazel eyes bright as she gazed into the security camera she knew he was using to monitor them. "The annual Super Ball is coming up the day after tomorrow, and your presence is *highly requested* by everyone. Everyone's so excited to meet the new superhero that's taken out three baddies in less than six months."
"I'm not coming!" he finally shrieked, climbing up from his bed and hopping up and down in anger. "How many times must I tell you I'm a super villain?! When are you going to get it through your thick skulls?!" He breathed in and out heavily, glaring at the screen even though he knew they couldn't see his expressions.
Nevi's ponytail seemed to droop slightly, but Marcel just gave him a pitying glance. "Hey, man, we understand. We all see ourselves as the villain sometimes. But you gotta know that you're a good guy, and you've saved a lot of people." He waved the golden envelope in his hand at the security camera. "I'll leave the invitation here. You should really consider coming." He stuffed it into the mailbox, and they left.
Gorlin shut off the screen and folded his arms over his chest. This was utterly infuriating. Were these superheroes just completely dim? What was wrong with them? Whatever. He had to think up another scheme before the Evil Gala. He shut his eyes, the gears in his head grinding.
Then his eyes popped open. His lips thinned.
He couldn't. He shouldn't. But...
It was really hard being a super villain. Really, really hard. And if you thought about it, recognition was recognition, regardless what the source was. That's all he really wanted anyway, to be famous.
He sucked in a deep breath. Fuck it. He pressed the button on the wall to side of his bed. "Koozor, go grab the mail and bring it to me."
***
r/AlannaWu | Reinholt stood on the balcony overlooking his lava lake where another unfortunate soul had just lost their life. Trying to sneak into his lair was their own mistake. All one had to do was walk straight up the path to the door and knock, and he would have let them in. But no one seemed to do that, instead they crept around trying to break into his home.
Who was to blame him for them setting of the booby traps? He lived above a volcano - of course he had a pitfall into the caldera. Shaking his head he turned and walked away. One less person trying to get inside.
As he turned his black cape billowed behind him and he grinned to himself thinking about that jerk rival of his who could fly. The dolt got himself pulled into the engine of a plane not too long ago by his cape. Surviving, he had then had to carry the plane to safety as it had started to crash from losing an engine. Reinholt had just watched and shook his head. If the superhero hadn’t been trying to show off for his lady friend he wouldn’t have had to save the plane.
He was going to half to order another cape, this time in red he thought as he reached his current project - a Death Ray. It would just be perfect if the ray and the cape were the same color. Tinkering around, he started to settle back into his work when the door rang.
Surprised, he looked up. He thought it was the doorbell, but honestly after all this time he wasn’t sure he remembered what the bell sounded like. His suspicion was verified when the bell was rang again a moment later. Someone was in a hurry to speak to him. Someone who didn’t want to break in.
Putting the wrench he had picked up aside he walked down to the entryway. The bell had rung several more times on his short journey. Now he was getting annoyed. If it wasn’t a little girl scout here to sell her cookies he might have to accidently open the pit again.
He looked through the peephole, but was greeted by a large blue eye trying to look in. Whoever this was, they were a moron. He thought about just walking away until the doorbell rang one last time. He couldn’t deal with the ringing, nor he thought, could the doorbell.
Pulling it open he found himself face to face with his favorite people. The members of the Alliance of Superheros. All of them. There was that fast kid, that weird billionaire whose sense of style he would gladly copy any day, the woman who didn’t seem to have any actual powers, and him.
“Rien! So good to see you! Please, we will only be a moment…” He said, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he opened the door farther to let himself and the others in.
“I was busy Frank. What do you want,” Reinholt complained, looking sourly over the group of superheros.
“We were wondering why you hadn’t arrived for the latest council meeting?” Barbra asked frowning.
“What council meeting?” He was turning his back to them, looking for the remote that would open the pit…
“The AoS council meeting? We were supposed to initiate you!” Frank responded like an excited puppy.
Reinholt couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, “Mwahahahaha!! You want me to be a superhero?”
“You are more than qualified.” The speedster said as he ran laps around the room. Reinholt didn’t know his name.
“What do you mean I’m qualified? None of you other than Frank even know me!” He stopped his search for the remote.
“Yes, well I spoke up for you. You’ve rescued children from a sinking bus, you’ve put out a fire that could have killed hundreds, you have eyes all over the city, always knowing what was going on. You care about the people.” Frank was looking him in the eye, but Reinholt’s eyes had drifted to the other man’s perfectly combed hair, he had a tiny little curl resting on his forehead.
“Well, I’m not interested.” Reinholt shrugged, turing to go back up to his death ray.
“We need you.” The dark and foreboding figure standing in the corner finally spoke up, “You can do things the rest of us could only dream of.”
“And what could you possibly need my help for?” He asked snidely, thinking about how much he could have gotten done without these needy people here.
Frank grabbed him by the shoulder, looking into his eyes, his face solem.
“Rein, we need your help to save the world.”
“Fine, but only if I get to use my deathray. And if you order me girl scout cookies.”
“Deal.”
r/LandOfMisfits | 2019-02-03T22:26:29 | 2019-02-03T20:26:55 | 346 | 71 |
[WP] You study magic at the top school in the world. Your village saved every penny to send you, but you suck. You find the spells hard to pronounce and memorize. They always feel odd, till one day you discover something called a "dictionary" and you see everyone is pronouncing them incorrectly. | Life has always been kind of hard for me. Everybody expects me to meet their expectations, and everybody is disappointed when i mess it up afterwards. But magic i've always been pretty good in. Well, by my villages standarts at least, as i learned when i finally got to the school. The spells make very little sense to me and i can't for the life of me memorize them.
I contemplated dropping out and going back to the village before it i found it. In one of the school libraries, in the very back of a shelf that, by the looks of the dust that has accumulated itself on its rows, hasn't been touched in ages.
"The great spell dictionary". This should at least help with the memorization, i thought to myself. But this was so much more. When i opened it, i recognized some of the spells, but their spelling was different. It was easier to understand, too. I tried one, just to see how different they might be. "Levitos Objectum" as i pointed to a book. Instead of just lifting it a couple of feet in the air, i gained full control of it. It was as if i was carrying it with my own hand without actually touching it. I had to try out more. "Ignis Sphera". I expected a small burst of fire, but was met with an incredible ball of fire that set the whole library alight. Luckily i had the dictionary, and after flipping through a few pages i used "Portus" to teleport myself back to my room before getting caught.
I would fly through my exams with ease. I could drop out now and still become the greatest wizard there ever was. I could rule the world with this! I could.. tell others what they were doing wrong this entire time. I could help them improve, make sure everybody is on the same page and change the world of magic forever. But then i wouldn't be as powerful.. i would just be like everyone else, but slightly worse probably. I don't want to be worse. I wan't to finally be the best at something. Im gonna show them. Im gonna crush them. | The teachers just don't understand. Latin is a dead language. It is so hard pronouncing these spells. I've always had a lisp since I was born. I was born with a hare lip. i had the corrective surgery but pronouncing certain words has always been tough for me.
You've read the manuals. The Harry Potter books. They have all the instructions you need to cast a spell but no can do this. No one can cast a spell. How did Hermione master this??
My parents were so thrilled when i was accepted into this school of magic but I'm literally stuck. I can't even cast a cantrip. I keep going to the library to find some kind of reference to help me. I'm getting desperate because I don't want to let my village down. They've invested so much time and money in me.
And then I found it.
I found a spell book in the library and the key is pronunciation. Now I am the most powerful student in the class. The teachers are asking me how i have done this. The students hate me. I have become more powerful than any teacher here.
I can cast a fireball now. We haven't covered this in class. I have come to the attention of the headmaster. I don't know what to expect but I'm not going to give up this book. | 2020-03-29T11:10:53 | 2020-03-29T11:05:34 | 91 | 20 |
[WP] A warrior's strength is based on the rules of chess. A Queen can wipe out an entire army, a bishop can kill a legion, rooks, a battalion. While a pawn is lucky if he can kill 14 men. You were a mere pawn, but you've infiltrated to the end of your enemy lines. Your body began to transform. | Sara Lazuli knew her place. She was a pawn. She moved forward, for there was no retreat for a pawn. She smiled bitterly as she struck down those in front of her. Sometimes a knight or bishop would zip ahead, and do their thing, killing those who opposed them, but in the end when there was danger, they would be allowed to retreat behind the line. Not Sara, not for any pawn. They moved forward and hoped not to die.
And at the end of the road, or so the legend says, a pawn can become anything they wish. Sara wasn't sure she believed that. A carrot to dangle in front of the powerless. As if there was anything more than moving forward.
Maybe it was because she wasn't motivated by such flights of fancy, or maybe it was just dumb luck, that Sara found herself deep behind enemy lines. The fighting was behind her, but that was no concern for a pawn. She just kept going, always forward, one foot in front of the other.
She saw it then, the end of the world. Was this what they were fighting for? This sheer cliff leading to this void? What was the point? Whatever, forward always forward...
\*RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE
As she approached the void something was approaching from the west, something fast. Sara would have laughed if she weren't about to die. An enemy rook was charging her way. Oh well, she had done pretty good as a pawn. She closed her eyes.
\*CRASH
Dying was a lot more boring than she thought it would be. Less painful too.
"MOVE!!!"
Sara's eyes snapped open. A knight stood between her and the rook. He had taken the attack meant for her. "Move, into...the end!!!" he coughed, crimson spilling from his lips.
Sara had no time to question, no time to thank him, no time to mourn him. She would honor him by doing what she was meant to. She moved forward. Forward into the end.
And she knew. She was not at the end because an end is just a beginning when you turn around. A pawn that can turn around, she laughed as the darkness seeped into her, could go anywhere. She would move forward, but she would choose what was forward.
Queen Lazuli stepped from the darkness. The rook still shaking the knight's corpse free from his spear. He had time to look her in the eye, to recognize the pawn from a moment ago. He was still looking her in the eye as his head was separated from his body, the obsidian sword not so much as slowing down as it went through his neck.
Sara the pawn always moved forward. But now Queen Lazuli could decide for herself what was forward. |
“King me!”
You hear a distant voice declaring.
You are suddenly transformed into a trim, agile king. Your mind becomes inundated by visions of your soldiers on the battlefield, their positioning, how many have fallen, how many are left, the positioning of enemy, how many each person on the field has slain, and the ability to speak with any of your fellow soldiers. You feel great power and sense the kingdom would fail without you.
You feel bolstered by your new role as king. You call for assistance and protection from the closest ally, a rook, to protect you, but it’s too late. An enemy bishop moves in several meters away, and maintains its stance looming over you. You feel stronger than ever, ready to take on their whole militia. If there was another vile solider to oppose you, you could take both out in one swipe.
You position yourself over just out of range of the bishop, but he is close enough you could almost strike. As you move in, a fierce, menacing queen moves in, 2 meters away from the bishop. You jump between the two, and without batting an eye swipe both down in one blow. There is only piece left on the enemy’s side. You feel as if the battle has been won until you hear in the distance another, but different voice declare:
“King me!”
Your mind’s eye sees an enemy pawn transformed into a king. You send all of your men after him, but his quick and agile body takes down 2 of your men down at a time. Your men and him battle until it’s only you two. You both run at each other with blood shot eyes screaming like a lunatic until only one is victorious. By attrition or some other means, you come out the victor.
You came in as a lowly pawn, only slaying 2 other men, to become a king, but after this blood soaked battlefield, what will you be ruling over?
_______________
New to writing, feedback is appreicated | 2020-08-12T11:52:14 | 2020-08-12T10:01:59 | 291 | 45 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As I walk home from school, I can hear the voices that bother me the most at the park. "Mine is four crosses that all meet with one corner. It kinda makes a star shape!"
"Oooh, can I see? Sounds cool. What does it do?"
"It's on my back. It lets me bend light and make illusions!" The new peers of this nemesis of mine watch in awe as he lifts his shirt and shows them the intricate detail on his back. He then folds his arm and exhales heavily. When he does, the very light around him begins moving, and he makes himself appear much taller than his peers.
Mark Gibson. I have hated him for years. Ever since middle school he's been the popular kid that picks on everyone except his little 'popular' crowd. Even now, as juniors in high school, he remains a childish bully. He looks over as he releases the illusion. "What's the matter, plain-face? Embarrassed? Wish your Emblem was cool like mine?"
"Shut up, Mark. I don't want to talk to you." As I looked up, he came close and struck me with an open palm.
"Don't you ever say anything like that again to me, you hear, shithead?" Mark had a slight grin on his face. I saw him about to exhale, a sure sign of him readying his Emblem's power. As soon as I noticed it, I delivered a swift kick to his groin. He winced in both shock and pain.
"NOW YOU'VE DONE IT!" Mark recovers quickly and counters with a punch to my gut. I could feel the force pressing the air out of my body, but I can't let him win. I remove my jacket to allow for better movement. My Emblem, a black circle on my shoulder, is revealed after I've gone down to the tank top underneath the jacket. I wore this today intentionally. Nobody has ever seen my Emblem, and they're about to learn why I hide it.
"Haha! Look, guys! His Emblem looks so boring! Or did you just draw that on yourself? You pathetic kid!" 'Tsk, tsk, tsk... You should not have done that,' I thought to myself. I pulled back my open hand and closed it as I brought it closer to his face. The black circle turns blue, and emits a bright light. 'Blue, huh? I can work with that.'
"Uh, hey, what the hell is tha-" Mark shut his mouth as my fist connects with his jaw. However, my fist backs up immediately after impact, and delivers a lightning-fast strike again. Another. A fourth, fifth, sixth. I stop there. Mark falls over, holding his lower jaw and covering his face. He's clearly scared of me now.
My Emblem changes what it does hourly. Its color determines that. Blue, for example, allows me to rapidly repeat a simple action such as punching or kicking up to twenty times within four seconds. After using it, I need up to 30 seconds to rest, depending on how many times I use it.
"You wanna say any of that again? Go ahead. I dare you." I position myself over him, and put my foot on his chest to ensure he can't get up. I press down so he can't activate his Emblem.
"Okay, okay! You win! Just stop!" His bright green eyes have become awash with fear. This is too good to stop now.
"Stop? Now? When will the circus call you back? Because you would have quite the resume to show them. Especially if you think I am done!" 'Finally, twenty seconds have passed. This should be enough,' I think to myself as I ready the leg on his chest. Before he realizes it, I send my full twenty kicks straight into him. He's practically crying.
"Dude, seriously! It's all just for fun! I'm never trying to hurt you, I mean it!"
I abruptly countered this argument. "Fun?! You think giving me a black eye the day before a funeral is fun? You think telling teachers I do all the terrible things you do to get me in trouble is fun? This is fun to you?!" My hatred begins pouring through the cracks of my outwardly positive demeanor. I briefly look at my watch, and notice that it's 5:58. In two minutes, I can switch it up completely. Man, I hope I don't get White. That one's always been useless.
"I thought it was all play-fighting, John! I mean it!" Damn, not enough time yet. I can't just pound into him again. Instead, I lift my leg and let him get up. Looking down upon him is fun and all, but I think watching him fall over and struggle to get back up is more interesting.
"It's not. It never was, scum!" I would never call anyone 'scum.' Not out loud, at least. I didn't even realize I did until it happened. Now that the time has passed, I get back to it. He stands, and I run my fist into his forehead, once again giving him the Twenty-Shot Special. I begin laughing after thinking up that name, because he falls over like he's had twenty shots. I decided to keep that in mind.
Suddenly, I remind myself that the human body does have a limit, and if I don't stop this, he's gonna pass it. Not worth the jail time. So, I grabbed his arm and picked him up. "You insult me again, and you'll see there's so much more to me. You understand that, Mark Gibson?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback and criticism always appreciated! Thanks for reading! | I always thought that the girl who'd punched me in the gut with just now had a power that hardly suited her.
To own a detailed sigil of was a sign of respect, prosperity; stronger sigils always signified that their bearers were wise, kind, or honourable or highly experienced in life.
And yet Leticia Norek, the sigil of the Wave, beautiful as she was, had struck me into the floor with her bare hands, hardly breaking into a sweat. Why? I didn't know.
My abdomen throbbed with pain that I could hardly move under. I tried crawling over to the desk nearby - useless - I heard her pick up the chair, and momentarily I felt its steel leg crash into my own leg.
A blunt, angry pain shot up, and I howled in pain.
"You need to stop! You're breaking Academy property!" I shouted. My voice was dry, and my chords burned with each word. I felt hot breaths leave my lungs, my body warm against the cold floor.
"Oh, I won't," she said with masterful dominance, "not until you tell me *how* you passed the Fourth Test *without* a sigil. Low-orbiter scum."
I didn't remember how I passed. Whenever I tried to recall what happened when I took the test, there was only emptiness in my memory. We were brought to a cliff on some faraway planet and were pushed off from there - that was all. I didn't remember what happened after - I didn't remember falling. And as far as I knew, I actually HAD a sigil - but it never activated, and I was considered an Impure by the doctors.
And I never wanted to take the test in the first place. I'd somehow ended up where I was, consciously aware of how I got here, but for some reason I...I didn't make all those decisions to get here did I?
What happened to working on a farm like Dad? I never wanted to take a galactic exam! What made me get here? It wasn't me.
And now, I, supposedly, had done something that had pissed Norek off.
Something was off about her too. She was supposed to be the class topper, a North Star graduate; kind, reverent, caring, and yet, she was hurling furniture across the room into me, like the Banished.
I needed an explanation. Quick. *Lie*.
"But I HAVE a sigil!" I croaked, frantically pulling at my sleeve to show the small blue circle on my shoulder.
But that was the truth, and I knew it was the truth that she wouldn't listen to.
I felt knuckles to my face in the next blow. Right to the ear. My hearing rang, and the pain spread across my skull. I clutched my hands to my face, biting a scream away. And through my arms I could see her sigil, on her neck, glowing in a blinding, orange light.
*Punish.*
I closed my eyes - rather, my eyes closed themselves, and I felt myself standing up. I could feel pain all over my body now. My eyes wouldn't open anymore. I couldn't even move my hand -
*No.* It wasn't that I couldn't move my right arm - but it was my arm that moved. It didn't move back, like I wanted it to - it moved forwards, in front of me, slowly. On its own. I wanted to pull it back - and it only continued forwards.
What was happening? My left arm also moved forward, and my arms were now extending their fingers outwards - and they were moving slowly, in a circle. My eyes were still closed but I could feel my arms.
Suddenly, my eyes opened themselves, and I was glaring at a black circle - about the size of a large plate, in front of me. It had small silver waves running at its edges, flowing inwards to the circle.
My palms pressed together, and the circle expanded. My hands clutched together harder, and the circle only became larger.
And then I *threw* it. The plate went flying into Norek's chest, and she vanished into thin air.
She was to my left now, her orange glow now gone.
My right hand grabbed her neck, and I slammed her hard into the floor. It slammed her again. Again.
It wasn't strong enough. I couldn't see her blood.
Slammed her again. I quickly realised that my body wasn't moving on its own anymore.
I was in control again.
She screamed in pain. I could hear footsteps outside the door. And yet, continued. She howled this time.
And the scream felt so, so good.
*Punish.*
*Show her.*
*Show them.* | 2020-02-26T08:45:39 | 2020-02-26T08:34:28 | 68 | 25 |
[WP] After a whole year full of catastrophes, it’s December 2020. Astronomers have noticed that entire constellations and star systems are vanishing from the sky, night after night. What ever is happening, it’s getting closer to us. | At first we thought light pollution had gotten out of control, then we thought that maybe it was a chain supernova, but soon there was no denying it: the stars were dying, and the wave of death was closing in on us.
Across the globe, scientists scrambled in their laboratories and at their desks to find a cause and potential countermeasure; priests of all denominations preached to panicking crowds, assuring them that God had not abandoned them and that we would all be safe; doomsday preppers silently rejoiced that they would finally have cause to use the exorbitantly expensive bunkers they bought, and all was chaos.
The days ticked by and the sky above grew darker and darker as distant stars were snuffed out one by one. Soon, many believed this event to be the rapture, that all was finally coming to an end such that the worthy may ascend to heaven. Many more believed that entropy had finally come for all that breathed, and that this was the natural death of the universe. Some believed this to be an event of occult or magical nature, and more still believed this to be a government scheme designed to profit off a global populace panicking at the coming of what had come to be known as the Great Shadow.
Eventually, naught but one star remained: our own Sol. Prayers were bellowed in the streets to every god humanity had ever known, bodies lined the roads as mass suicide pacts were carried out to avoid whatever horrific fate the universe had in store for them, but more common than death and chaos was silence, a solemn mourning for life itself as all came to an end. Those in the ISS were the first to see it. The sun flickering in an unseen wind and dying in a wisp of cosmic smoke.
Back on Earth, a single individual - a priestess to a long forgotten god - finished her ritual. As darkness fell, she caught the briefest glimpse into the nature of the disaster that befell the universe, and laughed.
Beyond time, space, and all that weakly held existence together; simultaneously all that was, is, and will ever be; in this place that defies all reason, and exists to spite creation itself, an Old One blows out it's birthday candles. | At first, it was just a few distant stars that no one took note of. But as time went on, we realized a much darker force was at play. The stars start blinking out at an astronomical rate. Scientists around the world start panicking when we discovered entire star systems disappearing. It took a while for this to reach the public, with the government finally revealing the truth after countless leaks. But at this point in time, there's nothing we can do.
Eventually, society saw a sudden collapse. thousands of people riot in the streets. People did what they in face of sudden doom, but the situation got even grimmer when we realized this unknown force reached our solar system.
I was at the lab when it happened. My coworkers and I were working around the clock in order to find a way to stop this "darkness", as what we called it. It had already consumed most of the planets in our solar system, making earth the next target. Then it happened. everything started collapsing. Buildings ceased to exist. People are being swallowed up by an ever-growing force of dark mass, and then it reached me. I tried to shield myself from this darkness, but it evently consumed me. However, right as I lost consiousness, I felt something heavy in my hand, and noticed I was holding what appears to be a giant key. | 2020-03-24T02:46:02 | 2020-03-23T22:51:17 | 253 | 103 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | **FOR THOSE WHO WANTED A SECOND PART!!** [Here's part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Necromorphs/comments/5zt7d0/the_calling_part_2/)
My parents had insisted on a party. They said it was tradition and invited aunts and uncles and cousins from gods knew where, half of the people I had never seen in my life.
Quite a feat, since the Splitting of the States, border control has been hell. Getting from one sector of the country to another requires paperwork, headaches, and a whole lot of background checks.
My best friend had taken the day off of his job to spend the day with me. He was happy, incredibly happy, on his eighteenth birthday two months ago had revealed LIBRARIAN as his Calling. Nobody was surprised, he had had a love for books his whole life.
**11:56am**
The room is getting quieter now, eyes on me expectantly. I've been silent for the last ten minutes, anxiety biting behind my ribcage like a rabid animal. I look at my arm, hand clenching and unclenching.
**11:58am**
"Don't worry," mom says. "This is who you are. We love you, no matter what."
My father nods beside her and I look at them with a smile. The SCIENTIST and the NOVELIST. I grew up in my father's stories, and I wish that he could tell the end of this one.
**12:00pm**
Nothing. The air in the room is like a vacuum, sucked in with an almost comically collective gasp.
I don't look up. I stare at my arm, the vision around going fuzzy with my concentration.
'Anything,' I plea. 'Anything but nothing.'
**12:01pm**
My mother starts frantically prodding at my arm. There are whispers and I can't meet anybody's eye. My best friend looks at me with pity, curiosity, fear.
**12:02pm**
It starts as a dull itch, a burn deep beneath the skin. I resist the urge to scratch and my sudden movement, drawing my arm close, attracts the attention of my family.
Slowly, mercifully, the word appears.
*LEADER*
Cheers start and I'm pounded on the back so hard that I think I'll have internal bleeding. LEADERS are the elite, the government. I might be able to make a difference in this hell hole.
**12:03pm**
My mother freezes mid hug, eyes locked onto my arm. I think for a second that she's having another Mother Breakdown, but then she whispers.
"What the fuck?"
My blood runs cold and I don't want to look at my arm. My mother had never cursed in front of me. But I know I have to look.
The word has expanded to word(s). My jaw drops. The sound disappears and I fear I might pass out.
*LEADER OF THE REBELLION*
| The words flashed red, the letters engraving themselves into my skin. I read them again, still uncomprehending. What kind of purpose was *that?*
I tried to get up, to run away, to try make sense of things - but my father held me firmly down by the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Son, your mother and I are very proud of you," he said, beaming from ear to ear. My family and friends all gazed at me, everyone single one looking proud and exultant. What the hell was happening?
"I don't understand!" I shouted, meeting everyone's gaze. Nothing made sense anymore.
"Oh, honey, he doesn't get it," my mother said, looking at my dad with a flutter. He smiled back at her.
"Son, those two words don't mean what you think they do," he said to me, grinning.
I looked back at the words, staring at them, the red glow casting a dancing shadow all around us:
*END LIFE*
"They *don't?*" I asked, confused. "It doesn't mean I should kill myself?"
"Of course not," he replied, chuckling, wiping a tear from his eye. "It doesn't mean *your* life!"
Everyone laughed but me. "I still don't get it," I said, feeling completely lost.
He pointed upwards. "Up *there*, silly!"
I followed his gaze, and after a minute, it dawned on me. Suddenly, everything made sense.
"Oh, Christ, sorry dad," I said, embarrassed. "I get it now!"
He wagged his finger at me. "Remember, what do we say instead of 'Christ'?" he asked with a wink.
I looked up, smiling. The words flashed in the darkness, and I felt power course through my veins.
"*Anti-Christ*," I said, and the legions of hell cheered.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2017-03-15T20:33:55 | 2017-03-15T17:51:32 | 5,607 | 256 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Alex takes her spot next to the man wearing 1000 year old bifocals, and then grabs the pen atop the booklet with her name on it. The cover page feels similar to cardstock; she can feel the indent of each letter from the back. As prompted before she walked in, Alex opens the booklet and prints her name on the solitary line in the middle of the page.
"You got a weird last name." Says grampa glasses.
"Thanks." Alex shifts uncomfortably because she can't put enough room between them. She focuses her attention on the other people still filing into the room.
"What's your middle?"
"Please stop talking to me."
"Weird middle name too."
"Seriously, I'm not in the mood to talk."
Grampa glasses points to an exceptionally attractive man a few rows in front of them. "Bet you would talk to him. You're pretty, but you're mean. I see why you're here now."
"Yeah? Well it didn't take me long to understand your reasoning, asshole. I hope yours fails."
Silence finally finds the two of them. A man in a suit enters the room, closing the door behind him. Everyone watches him walk to the front of the room and write his name on the board, followed by Esquire. He picks up the blank booklet before him and holds it up for display.
"Good morning all. I'm going to get right too it, since I know you all have important places to be."
Laughter from the room.
"Everyone should have a booklet with their name printed on the front, and should have printed their name on the first page by now. Go ahead and sign the line in the last page. As you're all aware, I am here to assist you in the writing of your last will and testament, so call on me as you see fit. You may use the entire booklet, but we suggest keeping things as direct and concise as possible. When you have finished, I will collect your booklet. When everyone has finished, someone will replace me to guide you home."
Alex raises her hand. "I was just wondering, are their individual chambers, or do we all share one chamber?"
The lawyer points to what looks like speakers mounted into the ceiling. "You're already in the chamber dear. Once I leave the room, they'll lock the doors and pump the gas."
Alex turns to Grampa glasses. "Please write fast." | He knelt down beside her on the cold grass of the graveyard. She had tripped and almost fallen straight onto a headstone, something that would most likely have given her a major injury.
"You didnt hurt yourself, did you?" He looked her over, checking for any scratches or cuts.
"I dont think so, but thank you, im ok. I'm just too clumsy for my own good." She smiled, and she smiled at him.
He helped her to her feet and they walked, her still recovering from the fall and him feeling the need to help her along.
"So why are you out here so late? Were you visiting someone?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but sometimes i just come out here to think." She put her head down, and went quiet.
He patted her on the back, "Me too, it really puts into perspective all the lives that were lived and lost. Each dying in some different way."
She smiled, looking up at him, "Death does have a creative way of making us go. Old age, sickness, accidents..." she trailed off, looking into the distance.
"I know what you mean, I..." he spoke, looking down at her face, smiling hoping she wouldn't notice. He continued to follow her, not watching his surroundings, and tripped, landing headfirst onto a headstone.
She turned back to look down at him her eyes dark, smiling, draping her long black shawl over her shoulders, "Or perhaps they were too clumsy for their own good."
(Not the best, i guess kind of cheesy, but i thought it sounded a little scary.) | 2017-05-31T06:30:10 | 2017-05-31T05:30:06 | 80 | 50 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter. | Chiken fried steak, and baked potato. Such a simple man. His last meal on earth and he asks for something so... Simple. No gravy or anything. Dry, just like him.
This man killed my daughter. A parent should never have to bury their child, let alone cook a meal for the one who killed them. She was my bright little thing, shy, and curious. Molly was always a good kid, and even pushed me to act nicer too. When she saw me being nice, she would just look at me and smile. It was amazing how pure of heart she was as a child. And now shes gone.
I finish cooking this mans meal. And the bailffs let me take it to him personally. I walk in and see him. My heart throbs as i think of what i am about to say,
"Chiken Fried steak, and your baked potato." I say,
He just looks at me and starts biting into it.
"You hit my daughter. With your truck." I say,
His eyes widen and his mouth falls open.
"You couldnt figure out how to leave the liquor alone could you. I saw your record, you havent done anything but drive drunk all your damn life, and look where it got you.."
He starts to sob, and attempt an "im so sorry."
"Stop crying," i say, "I'm not here to exact my revenge, or avenge my daughter. I'm here to say that all you had in your life was a bottle, and that was your problem. All i had in my life was Molly, and you took her away. And even though everyone who knows what you've done hates you, i just want to say...
I forgive you."
He looks up, tears running down his pathetic face, but i have already walked out.
I said what i needed to.. And somewhere, theres Molly - looking at me and smiling. | I look at the slip of paper. I go through lots of these but when you've been here as long as I have you gain this uncanny habit of eying out the names of the soon-to-be departed... It's all as well though, this job is slower, easier than the job of actually handing the food to prisoners as in low security... I turned over the last sheet and gasped. This man... Killed my daughter! He was supposed to be stuck in Colorado with their no death-penalty policy... And now he is here! Scum... I can already hear his final wails echoing throughout the room... I scoop one ball of rice and a ball of "vegetables" then I drop a brownie in the tray that sounds like a rock. Good thing I don't have to eat these. I hand the tray off to Steve, who is making food runs. Good thing we don't do last meal requests in Texas or my job would be a lot harder! | 2015-07-04T09:49:50 | 2015-07-04T09:45:58 | 50 | 14 |
[WP] The gritty realistic R-rated movie adaption of your favourite show as a kid. | He thought he was done. After thirty years of madness fighting crime on the streets, he was finally able to lay down his badge, and looked forward to a quiet retirement. He thought he was finally out for good. But they wouldn't let him rest. They went after his family, and now he's going to make them pay.
"If you're looking for ransom, I can tell you that I don't have any money. What I do have is a particular set of gadgets. Gadgets implanted in my body over a long career. Gadgets that make me a nightmare for people like you. Return my niece now, and that will be the end of it. I won't come looking for you. If you don't, I will look for you. I will find you, and I will go-go kill you."
This summer, one retired cop returns for one last caper, and this time, it's personal.
"Where's Penny?"
"You think you can make me talk? You're a joke, a washed-up publicity stunt."
"That was a long time ago. Things have changed. Go-go gadget blow torch."
Come see your favorite detective like you've never seen him before. This summer, Jeff Goldblum is....
Inspector Gadget.
| 20 years ago, 4 kids were kidnapped and confined by an unknown entity. After cruel experimentation, isolation, brain-washing under a new personality and desfiguration, they've become free... to look for a vengeance. This summer, Miramax brings you the deadly conclussion to this story - Teletubbies: Spelling Murder. (R-Rated for extreme violence, sex scenes and gore) | 2016-05-13T07:57:00 | 2016-05-13T05:39:57 | 126 | 46 |
[WP] The child meets your eyes and says,"You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it." | "You need somebody killed, don't you?"
The kid meets my eyes. He looks twelve and somewhere between driftwood and a cigarette. Sweaty, eyes glassy like he has a fever.
"I can do that for you, if you can afford it."
I try to stare back at him, all shaky snot-nosed fear. Try to meet his gaze but I can't. I can see, contrary to his hardened words, his own fear and my own reflected in it. Amplified.
"Hey, hey, hey. Don't be afraid. I know this isn't your first choice but what options do you have?"
He glances down, slipping a grubby hand into his hoodie pocket. Slipping a rusty box cutter out.
"I'll do it quick with this. I can do it quick now. No trouble." He tries his best not to sound needy, like it's no big deal, but I can here the whiny plead in his voice to match that look in his eyes.
"But, what am I going to do after it's all done? Where will I go? I won't have anything!" My breaths are little raspy moist puffs. I'm so afraid...but I need help.
He attempts a scoff. "You don't have anything now. And if I don't do it, you will have no future. The way I see it, this is the only way."
The doorknob rattles but does not turn. My father's voice wheedles from the other side.
*You have run away from home for the last time my little silly man. I have been so forgiving like I am apt to be. You have missed our private playtime for the third time. I am so sorry but we will have to remedy this like last year hmmm? No more outside time for you mister!*
The doorknob stops rattling. Then my dear father starts smashing away, kicking at the old wood above the knob.
The kid is right. This the only way.
I turn from the mirror, pushing back my hood. My hand is white knuckled sweaty clench around the box cutter, my blood rushing away from it, claiming no part in this treachery, no guilt of this deed.
The door gives a whimper, then submits to my father, sliding open.
| After spending a large chunk of the past month playing this online game, Runescape, I'd finally reached my wits end. I was decently leveled, going about my business doing quests, killing monsters, trying to make some money, and it was going well, until another player, 's3x_m@ster420' started following me around, literally everywhere, killing monsters I was trying to kill, using magic to take my item drops, constantly spamming my chat and eventually killing me. I'd had enough, the asshole was a level 130 and all he was doing was annoying the shit out of me.
At a recent family dinner, I must have been looking rather down. Sitting on the couch, I was venting about 's3x_m@ster420' to my friend. My cousin Jamie must have been looking over my shoulder, like most younger cousins do, because he immediately asked me "You play Runescape as well?" I tell him yes, and he must have picked up on the sadness in my voice, because he looks me straight in the eye and says "You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it." Great. Just great. Having to pay my 9 year old cousin to take care of a problem I, a 15 year old, can't deal with. It sure would be nice not having to deal with the constant annoyance known as ''s3x_m@ster420' however. I hesitate, then carefully ask him "What exactly is it that you want?" | 2014-10-06T14:12:12 | 2014-10-06T07:34:15 | 300 | 10 |
[WP] The Sith feel a disturbance in the force unlike anything they have encountered. A consolidation of pure rage and anger in a single entity- The Hulk has entered the Galaxy.
Inspired from a comment on r/FanTheories. Would the Sith try to recruit the Hulk? Or would they fear him? | He had to remain calm. He had to figure out where he was and how he had gotten here. The Hulk had been in control for so long,as they bounced from star system to star system. He knew The Hulk was trying to find his way back to Earth,to have his vengeance on those who had set them adrift among the stars. Banner couldnt let that happen...he knew damn well why they had gotten rid of them. Those were his friends,and there was no way he would let The Hulk unleash his rage upon them. He didnt know why the beast had finally given up control,but he would have time to figure that out later...for now,he had to escape. The white armored beings had been pursuing him across every level of this...whatever it was. Starship. Space Station. Whatever it was,it was big. He spied an open door and ducked in to catch his breathe.
Suddenly...the room went dark. And cold. Banner sensed he was not alone. A figure from out of a nightmare stepped out of the shadows. He was clad in black from head to toe,and wore a black armored mask. In his hand was some kind of an energy weapon resembling a sword. "There is much anger in you" the figure said. Banner almost laughed at the obviousness of the statement. If this stranger only knew...he moved further into the shadows,looking for a way to escape. The figure in black spoke again-"release your anger and embrace the Dark Side". Banner growled...NO...only it was not his voice. It was his...The Hulks. and he was angrier than Banner could ever remember hearing him. He could FEEL the Hulk inside,struggling to break free. "your anger gives you strength"...why wouldnt this fool shut up? Didnt he know what would happen if he lost control? Suddenly...the figure was upon him. He brought the energy weapon down in Banners general direction,but before he could make contact....the change was upon him. Only it was different. Different than anything Banner had ever felt before. He could FEEL,for the first time in a long time,his own anger mixing with The Hulks. Anger at the loss of Betty,his life,his freedom...anger at being hunted from one side of the galaxy to another by both friend and foe. And then something he hadnt allowed himself to feel for a long time...anger at his father. His mother,for allowing the abuse. Himself,for being too weak to stop it. He understood,finally,that THIS anger was where The Hulk originally came from. It was an anger he had carried with him his entire life...and it was finally free.
Vader watched in horror as the small humanoid figure in front of him...changed. It was just as his Emperor had predicted. Indeed,this stranger WAS strong with the Dark Side,but perhaps the Emperor had miscalculated. As Vader watched,the stranger grew and changed as lightning spawned by the Dark Side of the Force engulfed the being and danced around the room. Vader felt his suits cybernetics beginning to fail under the electronic onslaught,just as a tremendous roar rang out...loud enough to drive Vader to his knees and shatter the very walls around them. The being was massive now...closer in size to a Rancor than a man. He picked Vader up in his gigantic hands and ripped him in two. The last thing Vader saw was a smile that chilled him to his very soul. Through The Force,he heard his Emperors mocking laughter,as everything went dark...
HULK FEEL....GOOD. PUNY MAN TRY TO HURT HULK. HULK BREAK. PUNY BANNER GONE NOW. BANNER ADMIT HULK RIGHT ALL ALONG. HULK FREE. FINALLY FREE..HULK FINALLY STRONGEST ONE THERE IS. HULK HURT EVERYONE BEFORE THEY HURT HULK. HULK SMASH. EVERYTHING!!!! | Darth Plagueis opened himself up to the flow of information the force offered, his body descending the stairs of his ship on pure muscle memory. The rocky, near-deserted planet was a world, no, *worlds* away from the sophistication of Coruscant but it was here on the outlying edges of the galaxy that he felt truly invigorated-his mind opening up, as if the barren wastes craved the guiding intelligence only a Sith scientist could provide.
The planet probably had a name-it didn't matter, his influence as head of the Banking Clan and with the Trade Federation had ensured this planet and the surrounding sector were sealed away from prying eyes-living and droid, leaving him and his retinue to their eldritch machinations.
Plagueis scanned his immediate surroundings, rather redundant as His mastery of the force had long since outgrown the need for his physical Muun eyes, the force was the only sense he needed and beings visible and otherwise appeared as mere impressions on it's visceral plane.
The assortment of force sensitive mercenaries he had brought along with the droids were like mere embers in the force compared to the raging inferno of the one behind him-Palpatine. The young, red-headed human aristocrat remained silent even as Plagueis sensed the seething curiosity and the abyss of malice beneath that practiced noble demeanor. And yet all this paled in comparison to the supernova that was wreaking havoc on the force, right here on this very planet.
Mere hours ago, sensors had picked up a temporal disturbance in this sector, narrowing it down to a few planets, no more than a mere scientific oddity. But Plagueis knew, and so did Palpatine that it didn't end there. Something had come along with this disturbance-something wonderful. The torrent of sheer anger and frustration had piqued their interest and drawn them like a vortex-Plagueis as one who craved knowledge, and Palpatine as one that craved power.
Plagueis turned as if to issue orders when a fresh torrent of anger spread out from their target making some of the force-sensitive mercenaries collapse and sharpening the longing the Sith felt for whatever it was causing it. The maelstrom of rage spoke volumes not of hatred but of isolation, frustration-of youth denied. *Am I about to meet myself?*
Plagues's life had been that of the one against the many. People felt comfort in numbers and almost never asserted their own identities-the millenia of living under Jedi rule had made a virtue of complacency. *All action stars from the self and flows outward*, the sith respected individuality and distinction from the masses. The same distinction that brought master and apprentice to this corner of the galaxy. He could see Palpatine's eyes had turned a piercing yellow of their own accord, tell-tale signs that the sheer force activity had kindled uncontrollable excitement in his apprentice and no doubt his visage bore the same signs. Their potential adversary or perhaps ally was close-almost too close.
------------------
First ever WP, criticism and comments welcome. Thanks for reading. | 2014-07-22T20:33:57 | 2014-07-22T19:19:57 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake. | It can be hard to imagine, because of human design, that by a small margin you can control the time.
I would love, my dear reader, to teach you to control, but only the creator knows the special word. Even if I wrote it, I would have to write again, even if I told it, I would have to tell again. So behold! my dear reader, I will show you how a tide can make you a new creator, one, who feels the time.
I was standing near the ocean, enjoying summer breeze, when a tide, without caution, has swallowed me in a caprice. In the water, there were many, combining in a work of art, shining specks ― but not like fairies! ― like the stars in cloudless night. (That distinction is important: magic, as you know, has no interest for art, only nature, mathematics can tell disorder: "No! There's patterns, here's the list!")
Time is beauty, time is right, time can only be controlled by one, who has the sight that recognizes the reward of living in a loop that happens only once, for it would be a pain to see the order go... You cannot be ideal, but time still finds the way, it can remove the seal and wash away the pain. Once seal is removed, you will find the order, with every single movement it destroys disorder. Now I, my dear reader, can remove your doubt: the scene in the beginning was at an ocean, without flow, there is no time, but it was not at the Pacific, not Atlantic, not in sight were Arctic and Antarctic, Indian was far away. The ocean that remains unheard, it has a lovely name, but only the creator knows this special word. | Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic.
Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got. | 2018-03-30T21:13:08 | 2018-03-30T20:49:45 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Secretary Rosen sat contemplating silently while the Roni Ambassador dictated to him the terms of peace that Humanity was expected to accept following their defeat in battle yesterday.
Intergalactic Warfare wasn't so different from that practiced on Earth for millennia. They fought just as ferociously as soldiers sailors and airmen had fought in the innumerable wars humanity had subjected itself to during it's brief existence as a sentient species. There was one difference however. War had stopped being politics by other means for the most part on Earth. It was obviously still the way of it out here.
The Roni Ambasador had stopped speaking and was pointing at a treaty. "You must sign here, Mr. Secretary."
Finally Rosen stood up from his chair, straightened his suit, and began to speak. "Forgive me Ambassador, but allow me to clarify a few things. Firstly, the battle yesterday was a surprise attack, completely unwarranted and unjustified. We were at peace. Now we are at war."
"We have defeated you, you are now surrendering."
"Oh, you defeated that fleet it's true. But you will find once your forces are debriefed that it wasn't such an overwhelming defeat, despite you attacking us by surprise with a fleet five times the size of our own."
The Ambassador was puzzled. This was not how surrender ceremonies were supposed to go.
Rosen continued. "You see Ambassador, if you would do me a favor and look outside my window. What do you see."
"I see the newest addition to the Roni Empire."
"Ah, but you're still not understanding. I see a planet of my fellow humans who are girding themselves for war. You have broken the peace we had, you have attacked without warning and you did so callously, in the belief that just because the rest of the galaxy fights with kid gloves we will too."
"What are kid gloves, I do not know this expression."
"Kid gloves, Ambassador, are what we're now taking off." Rosen reached down to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Admiral, you may proceed with the mission. As of now, Ambassador, any Roni we find is dead. Any settlement we find is dead. Any fleet we find is dead. Bring this back to your leadership. While you can. We tried to deal with you fairly and you took advantage. We tried to negotiate when things got out of hand and you took advantage. Well no more. Humanity is not your punching bag."
"This is absurd. We have beaten you, your world is ours."
"Is everyone in your government as slow as you. We do not fight one battle and call it a war, as you apparently do. We sometimes fight to a stalemate. You killed 10,000 humans yesterday. At a cost of 40,000 of your own. This building alone has more humans than that. You have beaten nothing. Nothing except yourselves. Please turn your attention to the view screen."
The view screens, which were displaying prominent Roni landmarks as a sign of supplication and respect, or so the Ambassador had thought, suddenly flashed white. The shipyards of Kontak. The weapons factories of Girt. The great city of Ron. All contact lost, seemingly obliterated.
"How...what..."
"That was just the beginning. We have a saying. If you want peace prepare for war. We wanted peace, we tried peace your way, and you still could not contain yourselves. So we will contain you. You have exactly 2 minutes to get out of my sight, and a further 28 to get off my planet. If you are still lingering in that time, your worthless life is forfeit." | Dargeroth, the grand admiral assigned to this arm of the milky way, scoffed at the message. The Aristance Empire had been expanding for centuries with little resistance, and even the United Federation of Galactic Systems posed a miniscule threat. And yet, the small human alliance centered around their home system had just declared war.
The past century had been filled with various deals and negotiations as the humans, known to most as a weak but highly charismatic race, had tried to keep the mighty empire at bay. But it seemed that the negotiations failed. Dargeroth was almost ecstatic, as now it meant that he could show the true might of the empire. And with a single flick of his wrist, the attack began.
Admiral Alyx Dredger checked the message she had just received again, and immediately sounded the alarm. A massive fleet of enemy ships had just warped into the system and started firing.
"ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS. ALL CREW REPORT TO YOU ACTION STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" She called into the speaker system. Soon, the mighty alarms rang throughout the station, and the docked cruisers detached, their mighty docking arms retracting as their engines roared with the sound of rushing plasma. A purple glow illuminated the ships and the station as their plasma shields came to life, and their sides seemed to explode as fighters and torpedos were launched from seemingly countless tubes. But Alyx feared it might not be enough.
The enemy fleet was over three times the size of the defending one, and Alyx knew they could not hold out for ever. But, luckily for her, reinforcements were on their way from earth.
The space around the station and neighboring planets was glowing the the burning plasma and constricted hardlight shields, while seemingly infinite fighters dueled in the empty black, dodging and shooting down torpedos twice their size. But they were outnumbered, and the Empire's forces were closing in. Soon, an imperial cruiser, its point defence cannons shredding anything the that got close, broke through the defensive human line and started firing on the station. And Alyx stared down the barrel of a massive plasma cannon, and knew that she would die. But right before the cannon fired, the ship exploded as a ball of plasma four kilometers in length exploded against its side. Soon, dozens, hundreds, thousands of enemy ships met the same date as millions of human capital ships came through wormholes, swarming their enemy. It was a massacre.
"Attention human forces," the open channel line said, "reinforcements have arrived. Light attack fleet Hermes reporting for duty. Sorrythe fleet isn't too big, this is all we could make in the past hour or so to respond to your call. The last forty million dreadnoughts and twenty million carriers will be here by tomorrow."
"That's quite alright," Alyx said as the thirty-kilometer-long vessels demolished their enemies, "we should be okay for now." | 2019-11-24T14:03:48 | 2019-11-24T10:54:19 | 572 | 236 |
[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. | Ranma laughed, trying to encourage all those in the hall to join. "My father jests, even in the face of death! Truly a light-hearted man to the end. Now, please, father. Place the crown on either Kalin's head or mine, and be done with the ceremony. We are your loyal sons, here to serve and protect the realm."
The king hacked loudly, coughing blood all over his robe. "Foolish boy, the only jest here is that you truly think yourself fit for the throne. I have named this servant boy king. Do you not see the crown upon his head?" He turned to the newly crowned servant. "What is your name?"
The frail slave, dark skin barely covered by tattered rags, was trembling with fear.
"Do not be afraid, son. All these years you have served me, and I never thought to ask. Tell the world the name of their next king."
Kalin interrupted, his words a blade, slicing their conversation in twain. "*Son*? Did you just call that worthless scum *son*? A name which you have not even used to refer to your *actual* sons? You'd tarnish our name with such ease?"
"EASE?" the king bellowed, finding voice despite his sickness. "You think it easy for me to do this? You truly are a fool, as is your brother. I'm not the one that ordered the execution of a child for being a besting me in a fight, Kalin. I'm not the one that tortured animals for pleasure in my quarters, Ranma. You're both children, and you're cruel already with what little power you have. Let us make this very clear, sons: *I* am not the one that tarnished your namesakes- you did that yourselves. Do not *ever* think to lay blame on me."
The sons fell silent, their heads hanging in shame, fists clenched with rage.
The king resumed his conversation with the servant. "Tell me your name, boy. You've served here many years now."
"13 years, sir. I am 17 now. My name is Dhuq'a," the boy answered as instructed.
"Dhuq'a is a fine name. Tell me something, Dhuq'a- do you want to be king?"
"Well, Your Grace, I...I don't know that I'm fit to be a king. I merely serve you food and clean, Your Grace. I know nothing of politics or war."
"Good, politicians make me sick. There are advisors and councils for that, you know. They can guide you, and there are elders to help you learn for yourself."
Ranma burst, no longer able to contain himself. "Father, please," he tried to choke out through tears, "I promise I'll be a good king. A strong king, don't give the throne to some...some *filthy* slave, he's not worthy of something so grand. You can't just abandon your blood, your sons."
"See, you bloody idiot, *this* is the problem. Nobody as blind as yourself, even at 20, should be allowed a throne. You don't care about anything other than being king. It's a toy to you, something precious and you want it. You think it's yours, and you deserve it, just as I did when I was a boy. I tried to raise you two proper, to be someone better than I was at your age, but clearly I failed. Thankfully, I am no longer the man I was. I see beyond bloodlines and smashing villages for power."
"Please, father, I'll do anything. I'm begging you," Kalin pleaded, his knees on the cold, marble flooring.
"Anything? Then fall on your sword. You can have the throne when you're dead."
The crowd fell silent after a series of sharp gasps echoed through the sons' ears. Their groveling halted, leaving them staring at the swirled marble dotted with tears, completely taken aback by their father's words.
"To see you begging, crying for the throne. I'd hoped at least one of you could remain strong and accept my decision with honor, like a true man of dignity. But instead you grovel and snivel, teary-eyed and weak-kneed. You are not men; you are children. I cannot entrust this kingdom to one of you." He turned to Dhuq'a and smiled.
"Dhuq'a, I hereby name you king of this great realm; Protector of Mundakaa and its cities. You have known pain, growing up a slave. You have known hardship, working every day without complaint, taking beatings at the whim of a cruel master. You know the plight of those in the lower class, and you are a kind, wise soul beyond your years. You have served me well, always, and I can see in your eyes that you will be neither a cruel nor weak king. This is a dying man's last request, Dhuq'a. Be a king for the people, not for yourself."
"I will try, Your Grace."
------------------------------------------------
*thanks for reading! you can find more at /r/resonatingfury* | His Majesty's chapel erupted. Fred-Lesser was unsure what to make of the boom that shook his ears. All his years raised in the Kingdom's service and he never heard anything quite like it. To poverty, it even made his head feel heavy. And cozy. Sort of... regal feeling. He had to scratch his head, the velvet was starting to get---
*I did not attend this coronation with a hat.*
The thought froze him solid. Then he repeated it. *I did not attend this coronation with a hat.* It must be true, because Fred-Lesser had the distinct memory of having donned his servant's tunic. Then his grey pantaloons and equally grey foot slips (so as not to embarrass the traveling nobility with the sound of his poverty-stricken feet). He slicked his greasy hair all the way back, and exited the servant's quarter, helping to prepare for the coronation where directed by Bookmaster Ghuile, master of the books, ceremonies and omelette Thursdays. Omelette Thursdays were the worst days.
Cries of anger and protest in his direction was starting to give him a headache. What could have happened? Did he, *stumble* and hit his head, forgetting where he was? It would explain why his head felt so heavy. And cozy. Sort of... No, equally impossible, Fred-Lesser stood ramrod straight by the princes since the beginning of their coronation ceremony. The very same princes he attended to since Fred-Lesser was old enough to do so. The same princes, who's eyes traced lines where a sword might pass through him. And at him. And----
*No, the good princes wouldn't do that to me, where is that thought even coming from.*
His faith in the young Highness' was quickly shattered by the elder of the Bormenfast sons. "*How DARE you Father!* Surely you would not have mistaken this *commoner* for one of your sons??" The words confused Fred-Lesser, but whatever his troubles, he seemed to be the cause of them.
Must have been a fairly magnificent stumble to draw the ire of this chapel and hit his head with no memory of doing so.
The younger piped up in his younger, gentler timbre. "As brother has said good father, this must be some... unfortunate mistake."
"No." In his last dying years, His Majesty has never sounded so resolute. A word that forced a fulcrum of the wisest, purest, most powerful nobles in the entire Kingdom, to *silence.* Fred-Lesser would have been moved, if his life had not felt so threatened by all present. His head was also starting to get fairly heavy, but he dared not move to check himself before he necked himself for disturbing His Majesty mid-speech.
"This ceremony, as was the founding of this Kingdom, are directed so by my *will.*" His breathing searched deeper for air with every sentence. "I would have the rule of that which I built, maintained by one who *can* maintain my legacy. As he, who knows this castle, it's nobles, it's allies... Yes, he has eavesdropped on more than he should---" *Wait, what?* "---but that only tells *you* my subjects of the resourcefulness demanded of a King. Not the boorish---" he gestured to the elder son, "---or the timid---" then gestured his younger."
Both his hands pointed palms-up to the servant struggling to hold his head up during the ceremony. "---But the *true* servant of Bormenfast."
Fred-Lesser's eyes opened wide when he realized he was that servant. His mouth gaped like the statue of The Drinker at the Court Fountain pavilion. Shoulders, no longer supported by the rigid indoctrination of servant's ways, for the distraction commanded more than his training in that instance, sank low. He couldn't believe it. After all his precautions, *all* his mind and manners, and servitude to the family...
... And His Majesty *knew* he was eavesdropping???
For the moment, Fred-Lesser was just happy to be alive. For now, anyway.
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More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading! | 2016-02-12T16:04:34 | 2016-02-12T16:01:03 | 509 | 64 |
[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" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | 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. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T23:07:24 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an "elder" species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like "be quiet, you are in danger" to the aliens, because we are still childish morons. | He felt nothing but terror at the tiny words on the screen in front of him. Printed in simple blocked characters.
"Be quiet, they'll hear you"
His crest stood on end, wings folding nervously into his chest. Surely this was a jest, a joke, some kind of galactic conspiracy, a stray message in some invisible stream of messages. A second message appeared on the screen, then a third and a fourth, more messages coming quicker than he could read them. What sort of creature communicated this fast?
"What do you mean I accidentally broadcasted to the primitive world?"
"Fuck dude, I need to make up an excuse to the UW about this. Uh, let's just say it was a prank... Yeah, a prank"
"Yeah, you're right. Our cover is already blown, let's go all the way"
"No, nothing like a nuke or a CD bridge. Let's give them genetic engineering."
The next message wasn't a text message, it was an incredibly dense file, so big that it took up a full 30% of the supercomputer he used. He raised a dull claw, and with a heavy dread wrestling with the butterflies in his stomach, he clicked to open the file.
It wasn't just proofs and theories, not just clear and understandable blueprints for complex and unknown machines, it was also a picture of his people's genome. He moved the cursor over the genome, and part of it sprang up, describing in detail all of the functions of whatever random gene he had selected. He trembled with terrible conflict, before shaking his head and reaching over to his phone. There were a few calls he had to make. | I've seen it. I know it's there. The messages, unending stream, they're everywhere!
I saw it first when my days were young, the plants withered, the wind child and I felt a...presence... They were here for me! To tell me! I was chosen to decipher their language, and I swore to my destiny on that day.
The connection revealed itself to me. I finally have it! The message... From the others! Their intellect unbound. I record it here, for all to see and remember.....
**Wubba Lubba Dub Dub. Not all will understand its depth because to be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty.** | 2017-10-31T16:39:56 | 2017-10-31T15:26:39 | 296 | 80 |
[WP] In the style of Dr. Seuss explain a major event in human history. | One jew, two jew
Who jew, you jew?
Sign this form to identify who's who
and we'll send you to the learning center for you few
With evidence for why? Well why? We have no clue
We'll call it a prize, a reward, or a privilege
While we map out population simply based off of lineage
Germany will prosper the jews will stay vintage
Forever in history an infamous image
Our Fuhrer came out and he said with a gasp
They'll use their jew magic to wipe out our mass
Menorahs, yarmulkes, and tricks from the past
They're destroying the economy and taking our cash!
But I have a plan to save all the masses
We'll fence them all in and pump them with gases
The last thing we need is a troublesome crew
While I do what I must to win War number 2
As for Hitler, he did not like one them bit
For what he said, the sense made a bit
Wait my words are jumbled my mind is a pit
Follow like a sheep and eat up this shit
My eyes will stay blind when I'm not involved
For our troubles were over, by Hitler we've evolved.
EDIT: Jew Speak. | The rain fell hard as if God himself had spat,
with a pitter and a pat
Noah pulled an idea out of his hat
"A boat! An ark! How about that!
I'll need some, wood, glue and electrically safe mat,
And then I'll bring my friends Mr. and Mrs. Cat, Rat, and Bat."
| 2014-08-09T21:04:37 | 2014-08-09T19:25:57 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] Human blood turns darker with every evil deed and you've just murdered your wife. You never admitted to doing it, but you were the only suspect in the case. Imagine everyone's surprise when they found out that your blood is still milky white. | Death may seem like the worst that can happen to you, but I asure you there are fates far worse, like marriage. What started out as a brief yet exciting love affair ended in a life of slavery and torment at the hands of what can only be described as a monster.
It all started going wrong when I accidentally walked in on HER feeding when I was supposed to be a sleep. We were both shocked initially at the discovery, for obviously different reasons. I was shocked because what I thought to be my dutiful loving wife actually turned out to be something, other. SHE was shocked because at that moment SHE still had half of a human leg sticking out of the inhuman cavern of teeth that used to be a mouth. Things changed after that.
Soon my life consisted of serving this creature on pain of a horrible rending death. My every waking moment filled with pain and servitude. I grew in despair and just as I was ready to take my own life a glimmer of light shone into my darkness lifting me up with hope, SHE had a weakness. I determined then and there to end this or die trying.
Detective Simmons shook his tired and weary head, not another nut job psychopath, all I need. I had been listening to this psycho babble for over five hours now and his story made even less sense than when he started.
"OK Mister Cummings I think that will do for now, we have everything we need from you. You do understand the seriousness of this, were not talking life here, were talking the death penalty.". At that moment the psycho started uncontrollably laughing as if I had said something so funny it would make you cry, then he did, uncontrollable.
Just as I was about to book him for the murder of his wife a knock on the door.
"Sir the results have just come in, its white."
I let that sink in for a while, trying to grasp what I had just heard, it wasn't all the blood on him, or even the crazed look in his eyes that had convinced me, it was his resolute conviction his wife was a monster, such delusion had to mean this derranged man was the culprit. I breathed out a deep sigh.
"Well Mr Cummings, it looks like you are free to go. If we need anything more I'll let you know.". I had a sinking feeling we would never know the truth or find the real killer. | You sat in the chair, nurses and police officers towering over. Your wrists were tightned and you let out a dreadful scream. You have a phobia of needles so you look away. You can feel the sick in your stomach
"Scared eh?" One officer said.
"Scared of the truth?" He repeated
"Give it up Andrew!" Another officer said
"Uhh you are so annoying carol." Andrew said pushing his black curls behind.
The needle went in and you let out another cry.
"White..." the nurse said, hardly believing it herself. She looked interested in the matter.
"Can i go now?" You moaned.
"No!" Snapped both the police officers.
"I will test you tommorow. You can go now. But i'm going to give this to the lab. No ones blood has been that white before." The nurse said.
You went home and put on the tv. Your wife cuddled up to you. I mean, your second wife. Your back up one. She calls you a player but what do you do when your wife's on the floor stuck in her werewolf state.
"Why did you do it?"
"She tried to bite me! I couldn't help myself! I was cutting the cake when she lunged on my back... i had to get her off somehow... i already felt her teeth in me..." you trailed off, you knew in your heart you was lying and you killed her for cheating but, so were you
240 words lol. | 2020-02-09T12:50:15 | 2020-02-09T12:45:04 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you. | The earliest one gets one's familiar is at 13. The latest is generally 18. The world record is something like 27. I feel bad for that guy; eight years waiting was hard enough.
Familiars are strange beings. The earliest recorded one came in the early 1800s, a great bear-like beast that followed a single man. They cannot be harmed by conventional means (they usually die with their masters, though they can be put to death under certain conditions), and they take on a variety of forms.
It's not like your familiar can do more than give you life advice and be a friend. They have a strict code not to harm others (though I've heard of some murderers and psychopaths having violent familiars), and they generally don't talk to anyone but their masters. Still, it sucks being the only one without a wise creature companion.
My friend Maya was an early bird; a day after her 13th birthday, she came to class with a bright red lizard with long tail feathers on her shoulder. "Confidence," it was called. Next was Daniel at 15; his great, shaggy, hulking beast was named "Listening." Then was Hannah with "Acuity," Kara with "Resolve," Eric with "Cleverness," and so on. And then there was poor old Emily Smith, the boring girl without a familiar.
My parents did their best to reassure me that I'd get a familiar one day. I didn't share their hope (incidentally, my dad's familiar, a large hawk). I'd seen statistics about familiars; the later they came, the more likely they were to be "undesirable" traits. Could I get stuck with "Hatred" or "Ego"? "Apathy"?
I grew distant from my friends. As they all bonded over their familiars and the wisdom they received from them, I was alone. I was jealous, but I tried not to let it get the best of me; what a familiar that would be. I distracted myself with learning, aiming for high honors and a reputation for hard work. I wasn't the smartest, but it paid off, landing me in a neat little college. Of course, I had no friends at that point, and I couldn't really make any at school.
Finally, my 21st birthday came. It was in summer before returning to school. I woke up just before dawn with the distinct feeling of being watched. And there I saw it, my familiar: a small, spiny creature sitting in the corner of my room, staring with beady red eyes. I was startled and quickly flicked on the lamp. It appeared to be a hedgehog, no larger than a softball, with a strange, long tail.
The creature spoke to me in a soft, yet commanding voice, "I am Isolationism, your first familiar. I have seen your heart and eaten away at your soul. You have suffered enough; now, you may confide in me."
I was a bit disappointed. The creature called Isolationism was a bit creepy and discomforting, and it wasn't a very desirable trait. Something stood out to me, however.
"First?" To have multiple familiars was extremely rare.
"Yes. For as you allowed me in, you created something else. As you isolated yourself, you learned to work for yourself. You are bound by no one. And for this, we are not alone."
I noticed a larger shape in a shadowy corner of the room. Tall and lithe, it appeared to be some sort of crane, with a long sharp beak and cruel claws. It regarded me coldly and silently, not so much as stirring a single black feather. When it spoke, its voice was loud and clear.
"Call me Independence."
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EDIT: Thank you all so much for the kind comments. This is the most I've ever gotten on a writing prompt. It's been a very stressful day, so I appreciate it so much.
EDIT 2: Okay, I know it's cliche to say, but thank you so much for the gold! I am literally crying right now from the hundreds of kind responses. I've never gotten so much attention for one of my works, and it means a ton. You all have inspired me, so I want to make this into an actual short story (I might rework the first part, then add more afterward). It might take a few days, as I have exams this week, but I will do my best.
Again, thank everyone so much. It's been a rough couple days, and you all have helped me so much. | Some saw them as animals. Others were trailed by ghostly figures, embodying compassion or envy or pride or any of the hundred of qualities that dominated their lives.
Nina tried to convince herself she was simply too well-balanced to have one. That's what she told the bullies that mocked her for being too utterly ordinary to have a familiar. But it hurt, and she wondered. The outright bullying slowly changed to whispers, to pitying looks from those who formed close bonds with their familiars. Sometimes, she wished she could rip their companions from their sides - see how *they* liked being alone.
She had stopped dreaming that she'd ever have her own by the time her 21st birthday arrived.
Her guests and their familiars had left, and she was cleaning the apartment when she saw it. Eyes gleaming, red and hungry in the darkness. A rat, scuttling closer, its beady eyes fixed on her. Nina froze, almost sick with fear. She didn't care what it embodied, a *rat* couldn't be her familiar. She hated rats. She hated everything about them. Dirty, disgusting things.
*But I'm part of you*, she heard its voice in her head. Its whiskers twitched.
*The part that you're trying to suppress,* it said. *Your hatred towards the rest of them. The ones who think they're bigger and better than you are. But it won't work, trying to suppress me. I've finally grown too big to manage - big enough to manifest in this form. You should embrace me. I'll help you get your revenge for their treatment of you. You'll grow to like me. We'll sink our teeth into their flesh. We'll tear them apart, nice and slow. I'll show you -*
"Shut up! Get away from me!" she screamed. She was readying herself to give it a kick when another arrived, a sleek black shape slinking out from the corner and leaping forward to pounce on the other familiar. The cat snapped its neck in one bite and looked up at her, green eyes ablaze with casual enjoyment as the dead rat dangled from its mouth.
*Useless thing, hate,* she heard its voice. *Clouds one's judgement. You'll be better without it. Much finer to have ambition, to focus coolly on destroying those standing in your way. And I'm finally here to see you rise up in the world.*
The cat leapt effortlessly onto the table, nibbling at its prize.
"You're horrible," she whispered. "You're *both* horrible. You can't be my greatest qualities. I'm a good person....I-I care about others, I do. Where are they? Where are those familiars? Why do I have *you*?"
The cat's eyes narrowed. *You've always had me, girl, much as you don't like to admit it. I've just been a bit busy until now, taking care of your many little personality quirks over the years. Compassion, for example. A fat, meek little rabbit. Meant to come to you when you were fifteen. Delicious, it was.*
Nina stared at the cat in horror as it stretched, showing needle sharp little teeth in what was unmistakably a grin.
*Now it's just me left, and we can get to business,* it said. *So tell me. Who do you wish to surpass in life? I'm nimble and quick, and can show you how to do defeat anything. What do you wish to hunt? You can have it all, with me by your side. I've had so much practice in the area.*
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Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-01-20T13:17:28 | 2017-01-20T12:59:54 | 4,354 | 456 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | "Turn around, did I find you?"
I froze. *What the fuck?*
"Don't be afraid."
Strangers bumped past my shoulders, struggling to get past me. Like a rock in a fast-bubbling brook, I remained fixed to the subway floor. I tried to calm my thoughts. She could hear all of them, after all.
But curiosity and sheer impulse took over soon enough - she'd invaded my every waking moment. I fought back, but desire forced my neck to turn, slowly.
Behind me, I saw a girl, possibly around 27 or so, staring back at me.
"Is it you?" her voice rang through my head, her lips unmoving.
*Yes.*
A grin spread across her face. Suddenly, a flash of panic spread through me. What if she was going to kill me? Destroy the voice in her head?
"Don't be ridiculous! I would never do that."
I cursed myself in my head, before realising she could hear that too. I felt more exposed than ever.
She sighed.
"Don't be afraid. It's okay. Way I see it, we have a special bond. I think, somehow, fate brought us together."
I raised an eyebrow. A man in an orange coat pushed past me angrily.
"Get outta the way, pal!"
I remembered where I was and quickly took a seat on a nearby bench. She did the same, still looking at me triumphantly.
"You see, I was in New York for a conference, but I heard your thoughts and, well, I know you were headed here for a family reunion too."
I nodded.
"I thought I'd come and find you. It was easy enough - you tend to think while you read, so when you read the subway signs I knew where you were headed."
I nodded again, somewhat sheepishly this time. There was a long pause, filled with the fairly loud hustle and bustle of commuters on their way to work, punctuated by the screeching of trains and blaring announcements.
We just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes. For the first time, neither of us was thinking anything. Silence in our heads. Peace.
"...well, what now?" I said softly.
"I don't know," she said simply, shifting her gaze to the floor.
"Look. Just now, we were both silent. For the first time for as long as I can remember, there was peace. And we both know each other pretty well, don't we?"
She chuckled. "Maybe a bit too well," she mused.
"Well, I don't know how to say this, but..."
Her eyes lit up and a cheeky grin grew on her face.
"You've already heard it, haven't you?" I smiled.
*Yes.*
We got up and climbed the stairs up to the light. By the time the sun kissed our skin with its warmth, we were holding hands and headed to the nearest cafe.
I used to think that she was a curse, but now it's becoming clear. We had something nobody else in the world had; a deep, inexplicable connection that couldn't be explained. I don't know how this is going to work, but this feels right.
Just as I was about to vocalise my thoughts, she caught me in a smile.
*Ah. I forgot you can hear me. This is weird.*
"We'll get used to it."
I squeezed her hand and we walked along the pavement, wet and shining with the sunset's colours, reflected on the stone. | She has always been there for me. She has always been honest with me.
When I was 4 years old, she told me Mr Bunny had been saying mean things about me. I threw him in the bin. My mother was upset she said why did I throw away my favourite toy. I said he's not my favourite any more.
When I was 6, she taught me what violence was. I drew a picture of violence in my class at school. The teacher was upset with me and told me I was wrong. Everything I've learned of life since then assures me I was right.
When I was 13 she told me that Gary in my class wanted to kiss me. I walked over to him and kissed him first and it was warm and wet and weird.
When I was 15 she told me not to tell anyone what uncle Paul likes me to do with the video camera. She said they wouldn't understand, and I was getting too old for it anyway.
When I was 21 she was all I could see and all I could hear. I asked her for some time alone. I bought some flowers for myself but forgot to buy a vase to put them in. I rested them in a pint glass and didn't leave the house as I watched them slowly shrivel over the next week.
When I was 25 she came back and I felt a shiver down my spine and I don't know if it was bad or good, but I didn't want to ask her to go away again. So she stayed.
When I was 26 she told me that I needed to die so she could live. She told me what to do with the gun.
My heart stopped for 30 seconds at the hospital. They told me I would be able to talk again with rehabilitative therapy, but that I would be disfigured for life. They told me she wasn't real. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and given a lot of pills to take regularly. They brought me peace. I didn't see her again in a long time.
When I was 37 I heard a familiar voice behind me, and felt a shiver down my spine. "Turn around, did I find you?" Her speech was slurry and lisped the same way mine was after the incident.
I turned around slowly. She hadn't aged a day the whole time I'd known her, but this time half her face was grotesque and scarred the same way mine was, except the opposite half. She touched me on the arm, and I knew she was real this time.
I was hers again. | 2019-09-14T11:28:36 | 2019-09-14T11:01:10 | 74 | 16 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "Look at that idiot swinging a sword at my playful Gilgamore." I said while looking out of my window from the top floor of the tower into the courtyard.
Every damn time... I don't know why they think they need to *Slaaaaay the Draaagon.* What was this, some Walt Disney princess movie? Did they honestly think that if there was a real dragon threat that it would of killed me by now? My faith in the common sense of man was quickly dwindling.
&#x200B;
I watched as Gilgamore swiped his claws at the "hero knight in shining armor". He literally cut the poor sap in half at the torso leaving the legs standing there for a brief moment before collapsing to the ground lifeless. It happened so fast you could still see the eyes blinking before remaining open with death. I couldn't help but laugh as I used the usual stone to mark another tally on the wall. That makes fourteen this month and a hundred and twenty seven this year. The deaths were always gruesome yet satisfying to me at this point. Just another useless, dumb sack of meat removed from existence for the betterment of mankind.
&#x200B;
Gilgamore, now done playing with his new friend, transformed back to his original cute sized self and turned to enter the back door of the castle after swiping the remains of the would be hero into the moat of surrounding lava. It took me three solid months to teach him to clean up after himself. He was a Draconian Hybrid mixed with the legendary Fae dragon species, the smallest of their kind, and the Germanic Puk species. He had a silver colored hyde, an off white underbelly, and *usually* stood about a foot tall and had a wing span of almost three feet His tail was just as long as his body easily making him around two feet long. He liked to transform into a much larger dragon resembling the poisonous Aspis dragon when "visitors" came by with the hopes to leave carrying a beautiful princess in their arms through smoke and flames. He was rather protective but he only meant good with each interaction. He was born into this castle from an egg I received from a local merchant that came by about once a week. Mervin was a kind fellow who Gilgamore took a liking too shortly after hatching. I bought the egg out of sheer hunger from Merv about a year ago. I remember thinking back then that it would make for a great breakfast omelette with the bear sausage I purchased recently. To my pleasant surprise, Gilgamore was born from the egg the next morning as it was sitting by the coal oven. Since then, I have been raising him as my pet.
&#x200B;
Shortly after my little GeGe cleaned up his mess I saw the lamp light up at the end of the rope bridge that hung over the lava. It was Merv. But this time I saw him standing there with another figure. I guess GeGe noticed it at the last second as I saw him quickly turn and run dow the hall and head towards the front castle door to greet Merv and his friend. As the two walked across the bridge, light broke through the clouds and I could start to see the familiar face of our friend. He was a lively sixty seven year old merchant that would always carry rare goodies in a rucksack. He had peppered, long hair just past his shoulders and always had on cargo shorts and a wife beater with socks that came up to his knees that jutted out from his homemade sandals. The clouds soon devoured any light that tried to shine through right before I could get a good look at the other person accompanying him. Halfway down the stairs I heard him ringing the bell by the rope that hung next to the main door.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | He opened the wooden door with a long drawn out squeak. In his hand a touch rose up illuminating the room and stretching his shadow behind him like taffy. He gazed at the silhouette laying in a bed decorated in fine silks, the moon outlining the perfect beauty of Princess Marianna.
"Alas my Lady! I have" *Clonk!* he stopped abruptly to a thick whack on his head, his helmet rang in his ears. He turned around to find a girl, dressed in a light gown, holding a chair.
"Princess wait" *Clonk* "I am your prin..." *Bang* "I'm trying to slay the..." *Clang* "Will you just sto.." *Bonk*
As the princess berated the knight with her chair a tail slithered into the room, a long scaly tail, a very very long and large scaly tail. the princess dropped the chair as the knight held his hands to his helmed dazed. She leaned back jumped into the air and at the same time the tail and her feat lashed out at the prince, pushing him over the bed and out the window. *clonk clang bonk bing* the knight tumbled down the side of the castle, *SPLOOSH!* and into the water. The princess walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets, revealing a couple of pillows and two watermelons stuffed at the top. "Knights are so stupid huh Ms. V" she turned around and the tail and her hand met in the hair with a quick *THWAK!*
The princess ran down the stairs following the dragons tail and into a large room that was once used as a dinner hall when the castle was new. now it set abandoned for years, covered in dust and in the center of it lay a large red scaly dragon.
"I'm just so sick of it Ms. V" Marianna said to the dragon. "It's like all anyone ever sees in me is, the princess, helpless little Marianna, maybe she will grow up and make a great casserole some day for a Handsom prince" she mocked as she did her best impression of a Nobel man. "Do you have any idea what it is like for people to judge you on your outside and never want to get to know the real you?" she questioned the dragon. The dragon raised her head to agree with a nod but The princess cut her off. "Off course not Ms. V, you're beautiful and caring." She hugged the dragon wrapping her arms around one of her giant scaly legs. "Now let's get to work."
The Princess and the dragon stayed up all night, in fact, most nights, building a stage, writing scripts. She was not destined to be a princess, and Ms. V. Was not destined to be slain in search of a princess. No. They were going to be the best play writers in the world. | 2019-01-09T10:46:09 | 2019-01-09T08:21:48 | 38 | 28 |
[WP] The news were shocking. In one week, a gigantic meteor was going to hit the Earth and obliterate it. Chaos ensues. Anarchy breaks out. Governments fall. A week later, everyone braces as they see the meteor… miss the Earth, barely. Things get awkward. | I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close, digging my face into his chest as he held me tightly. Nothing was going to save us from the meteor, so we embraced our timely deaths as the bright light of the meteor grew larger, cutting through our atmosphere. I admitted, finally, to myself that I didn’t quite love this man. He meant a lot to me, but my love was somewhere else. Somewhere alone. It was too late to change any of it, so at least one of us would die happy. At least Harrowing would die happy. I took my last deep breath, savoring the life I had and reveling in my mistakes and guilts before it happened. The meteor happened. The wind picked up and I could feel Harrowing’s dark hair fall out of his own short ponytail as he didn’t have much of it. I felt him whisper to me that he loved me and he squeezed me tighter. The light was blinding and the wind was heavy, and then it died off suddenly.
The meteor had went right past us, flew through our atmosphere, passed us. We pulled back from each other to look around. I pushed back a bit, feeling the guilt and embarrassment set in. I stared at the ground as Harrowing was looking around, spinning like an idiot. I pulled my toes in under me and bit my lip, fighting back tears. He looked at me, suddenly and quickly. “What’s wrong? We’re safe, we’re alive, Daisy! We can be together!”
I began shaking my head, hair going everywhere and falling out of my ponytail. “No.”
“No?” Harrowing asked
“No. This was a mistake. You’re not it.”
Harrowing looked puzzled and hurt but asked anyways “what do you mean I’m not it?”
I choked on my words as I tried to answer him, “I don’t love you, we should have died. You should have died happy. But we are alive and I need to go.” And with that I ran. I ran and ran through the empty streets of Manhattan and I didn’t look back, though I could feel the pain I just put Harrowing through. I broke his heart and I knew it. I knew he probably was wishing the meteor would have killed us as I ran away.
Within fifteen minutes I was on my knees, gasping for air as I banged on the old apartment building door. The paint was chipped and the metal numbers were gone, leaving a faint hint of what the numbers used to be where the paint had faded. “Go away, enjoy your life somewhere else.”
“Killian, Killian it’s me, open up!” I yelled, trying to catch my breath. The door flung open and I got off my knees and met with Killian’s eyes. His blonde hair was a mess hidden underneath his hood. His brown eyes locked into mine and I had never seen them look so dark before. I broke more than one person that day. I hurt everyone, including myself.
“Why aren’t you with Harrowing? You chose him and not me. You shouldn’t be here.” I could hear the resentment in his voice, and it hurt. It cut me deep.
“I was wrong, I realized right before the meteor flew by! I came for you, I love you!” I felt my words slipping and the tears welling up in my eyes.
“Obviously not enough, your boyfriend is behind you.” Killian stepped out and shut the door behind him, and I turned to see Harrowing. | The sound of the bolt racheting back was so satisfying. It was why she'd picked the outdated thing. The way that her target's face painted the arena floor was satisfying too. The way he screamed and fell to the ground still horrified her, still gave her those little shivers of guilt and adrenaline.
"Another victory for Mary-Ann! She's un-fucking-STOPPABLE," the announcer roared, and the crowd cheered. She walked over and kicked his head in, the way it cracked and deformed and he gurgled and cried was so horrifying. The crowd groaned and cheered and howled and everyone had fun.
As she exited the arena and the gate shuddered behind her, a gate guard laughed and yelled "kick me mommy." She did and he yelled again, things like "what the fuck, it was a joke, you crazy bitch." So she shot him, because it was annoying. The other gate guards cheered too and everyone had fun.
She reached her trailer, took a swig of whatever it was she'd left on her makeup table, and sat down.
"Should I take some drugs?" She asked herself. The TV mounted in the corner was playing the news, as it had for some hours now, that actually the world was not going to end. Everyone was going to live. That guy she'd shot, and that other guy she'd shot.
"Who the fuck keeps astronomying and newscasting *after* they thought the world was going to end?" The answer was obvious. "Really boring people."
She felt the sudden urge to vomit. She didn't quite make it to the trash can. She probably shouldn't have drank that mystery liquid. Or killed those two guys. Or maybe it was the cancer?
She lit the mystery fluid on fire and threw it into the back of the trailer as she left. It wasn't worth cleaning up the vomit, honestly. She took some drugs on the way out.
She didn't understand people. She was going to die anyway, why stop the party? But why did the crowd stay, and all her opponents? No way everyone had cancer. They weren't all dying.
Then she realized (or the drugs hit). They all were dying, just way, way slower. She laughed on the way back into the arena. It wasn't her turn yet, she hadn't been called, but who the fuck keeps turn keeping *after* they thought the world was gonna end?
(Author's note: I wrote this whole thing while very high. Also I listened to this song the whole time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5qC4qezmFo&ab_channel=R.I.P.) | 2022-06-15T10:51:41 | 2022-06-15T10:14:56 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] Long ago, someone wished that all dragons would become housecats. Now, the magic of the wish is weakening and they are slowly starting to turn back. | "... the hive of dragons erupted off of 3rd and Main Street earlier as police were trying to do their best to evacuate the area."
The news droned in the background as I looked at Elizabeth, who didn't seem to be phased by the whole thing.
"You know, honey," she pointed towards the screen, "I think I might know that lady."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she used to bring cats to my vet all the time," she muttered and thought for a moment, "Yeah, that has to be her..." Her voiced wandered off as our dog skipped into the living room, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He gave me a cheeky smile as I signaled for him to sit on my lap.
"Good boy, Odie!" I laughed as he jumped onto me and began to lick my face, "Calm down, I'll get your dinner soon!"
"Speaking of dinner, Jon," Liz suddenly looked alert, "Where's the cat?"
"Oh, him?" I laughed as Odie jumped back onto the floor and started to chase his tail, "I'm sure he's fine."
"You should know where he is," Liz pointed out, "With everything that's been happening... you never know if he's turned into... into one of *them*."
"He's a lazy cat," I reassured as I wrapped my arm around her, "He's probably sleeping somewhere around the house."
"If you say so." She didn't look entirely convinced.
My stomach grumbled moments later as Liz laughed at me. I blushed cheekily and pointed towards the kitchen. "Don't get up," I smiled, "There's some leftover lasagna in the fridge. I'll just reheat it."
"We had lasagna?" she looked surprised but went back to the news, "Do whatever you want, Jon."
I chuckled nervously as I headed into the kitchen. Odie was now sitting next to Liz as both of them seemed glued to the television. I opened the fridge door as a cool blast of air hit my face. I took a deep breath as I grabbed the plate of lasagna and slowly walked out the kitchen door. My backward was a mess, perhaps as a result of the dragons that had been flying around everywhere. I carefully stepped through the leaves as I approached the tool shed. I had built it myself for protection against the dragons, but recently it had served another purpose. As I stood in front of the door, the sign glaring at me:
**Jon Arbuckle's Shed! DO NOT ENTER!**.
Liz had never entered it for she found no need to. I quietly knocked on the door and creaked open the door. "Hey, you in there?" I called, "I brought you lasagna..."
The door slammed shut behind me as a giant mass of orange with black stripes greeted me. Through his scales and spines on his back, he opened in mouth in hunger, drool slowly dripping onto the floor. He straightened to full height as I looked up at what was my former feline companion. The dragon's head hit the ceiling and shook the shed, knocking me to the ground.
"Garfield, I swear to God!" I hissed as I picked myself up, "You're going to get caught!"
I tossed him the plate. The dragon slowly sniffed the plate and swallowed it in a second.
"Cat or not," I took the plate, "Nothing's changed about you, Garfield."
"Actually, Mondays aren't so bad anymore Jon," he shrugged his wings at me.
I paid him no attention as I walked out of the shed.
_________________________________________________________________
Hope you enjoyed the tribute! /r/AvuKamu | Sprinkles, a fat black cat belonging to Steve and Harriet Pearlman of 625 Meadowlark Lane, turned into a ravenous, sixty-foot, three-headed dragon at precisely 9:16 on the morning of September 15, 2016. Prior to this moment, Sprinkles' all-time most destructive act was the jettisoning of a lemonade pitcher off the kitchen counter in the summer of '07. Sprinkles was an old cat. He had, however, resolutely refused to die, and now, as his dragon-bulk flattened the house, the reasons for his resilience became increasingly apparent.
Sprinkles' rampage took him across a swath of Albuquerque suburbs some fifteen miles long. By the time the fighter jets were scrambled, Sprinkles had already consumed two hundred non-feline house pets, seventy-five unwitting pedestrians, three crabapple trees, an ice cream truck, and a twelve-foot bronze statue of John "Jack" Swilling, the founder of Arizona. Sprinkles also lit quite a lot of stuff on fire, and generally made a ravenous, sixty-foot, three-headed nuisance of himself.
It took sixteen air-to-ground missiles to bring him down.
While the world reeled from the first dragon-based natural disaster in recorded history, three more cats (all, coincidentally, also named "Sprinkles") turned into dragons in locations around the country. The dragon in San Francisco was bright red, with orange stripes. It flew across the city, starting conflagrations at random, then sat on the Golden Gate Bridge, which promptly collapsed.
The dragon in New York City went straight for the Statue of Liberty and knocked its head off.
The dragon in Wyoming went more or less unnoticed until entire herds of livestock started disappearing.
At this point, the President announced a nation-wide state of emergency. Cats named Sprinkles were rounded up and euthanized. Then more dragons appeared, originating from cats with such varied names as Roger, Taco, and Flirtatious Rex. The euthanization program was widened to include all cats. Similar programs were enacted in other countries after a dragon ate the Louvre. The swift action of heroic cat-euthanizers around the world likely prevented the full-scale extermination of humankind. Still, the process wasn't easy: stray cats unaddressed by the first wave of counter-feline intervention spawned hundreds of dragons over the next several years.
As the number of cats dwindled, the world breathed a collective sigh of relief. Sure, humanity had been tested, and many lives had been lost, but we'd figured out a solution in the end. Now, at last, we had everything under control.
At least, we thought we did... until, one morning in Texas, an earthworm turned into a Basilisk... | 2016-04-13T19:47:44 | 2016-04-13T19:37:41 | 533 | 56 |
[WP] When humanity developed FTL, the specifics of the drive meant that each ship needed to be the size of Manhattan and built like an anti-nuke bunker to survive a trip, not to mention using enough power to fry a continent. This was shocking to aliens more used to gentler, subtler means of travel. | A pillar of burning light rose from the base of the greater sphere. It's beauty never failed to evoke awe. The pillar was the culmination of a great core tap, initiated on the planet below. The energy stream stretched across the interior of the sphere and out through the spire. Juhar, as the administrator, was privileged to have his office in the spire itself. He could descend, to view the beauty of the city, built along the inner surface of the sphere. He could ascend to the pinnacle of the spire and watch the energy flow outward, through the rings that stabilized the flow. From the rings, it continued to the lesser sphere, where it was regulated and returned to the greater sphere as useable energy.
Juhar always felt grateful to the gods for his position. His sphere functioned as a primary node for the Way. By transitioning into an energy state, Nodarian vessels could transfer, instantaneously, to any other location along the Way. Every world was connected.
The Prians couldn't handle the energy state, but they were able to employ a 4th dimensional fold in space the transition to other locations. The sphere broadcast a signal that aided in their navigation. The Forn built slipspace portals. Juhar had traveled through one, once, but found it slightly distateful. Nodarian biochemistry didn't react well with slipspace. Still, Juhar made it a point to visit the Forun emissary often. The great Gate was a pure work of art.
Juhar looked up and frowned. The inner ring almost looked like it was wobbling. Suddenly, everything below went dark as Juhar's face was illuminated by a massive explosion. The lesser sphere was burning. The rings were just... gone. Buildings began to go dark as power was consolidated to the Node. If the Node went down, it couple destabilize the entire Way. Trillions of his people, stranded across countless worlds.
Moris, always hoped to work on a core tap, but never like this. He came away from the meeting with his task list, already searching for work-arounds. They had roughly two cycles before the Node failed, perhaps permanently. A Node had never failed before. For that matter, a core tap had never failed before. The Tower was already shifting traffic away from the station. The Forn kept their Gate functioning long enough to transfer millions of people away before disengaging its power, to keep the Node functioning.
Proximity alarms began to wail, signalling an approaching object. Something that big could only mean a Terran starship. Moris watched as it approached, impossibly fast, and then suddenly stopped and hung in space, well off from the station. No one had ever been in a starship before. It impressive and immense. Ugly, but immense. Whereas most of the species of the galaxy built ships of beauty, the starship's construction seemed random. It was like a giant block, with various appendages sticking out at odd angles. The rear of the vessel featured massive engines.
Starships never traveled to a planet surface, they always stood off, like this one. No one could figure these Terrans out. They built these massive vessels, easily half the size of the greater sphere. Rather than transition in a sophisticated way, they brute forced their way to higher speeds and spent months traveling from world to world. No one had ever been aboard one of their starships. Humans always wore masks, when their smaller vessels, called shuttles, brought them to civilized settlements.
The administrator beckoned Moris over. "The Terrans have offered to provide us with power from their ship. I imagine we'll be able to get, perhaps, a few more ticks with it. I'll take anything, at this point. They have invited a small crew to travel on their... shuttle craft... to their vessel to assist in the power transfer. You will be a part of that crew. Apparently, they never come to our stations because of a difference in atmosphere. A breathing apparatus will be provided." With a nod, Moris was dismissed.
The shuttle was ugly. The seats were simple, with some sort of straps that they required Moris to wear. One of the Terrans called it utilitarian. As he looked around, Moris granted that this was as apt a word, as any, to describe this craft. Nothing was spared for beauty or elegance. Everything had a purpose.
The starship interior was an assault on the senses. The sphere used scent and light, to inspire a visitor's experience and direction. Here, everything smelled like metal. The walls were metal. The floors were metal. Everything was grey, except for garishly colored lines painted along various surfaces. How they could find their way around escaped him. Then, his guide pointed down a corridor, where a brown line branched off, informing him that the mess was, "that way." The yellow line branched off towards the bridge. They followed a cluster of red, blue, and green. Utilitarian.
The green line stopped at a doorway. "That's the arboretum and hydroponics," his guide said. Moris stopped in shock. Trees. More plant life than he had ever seen before, much less in one place. Terrans traded wood, a much-desired commodity. This couldn't, possibly, be how they transported it. His guide had traveled a bit further down the corridor, but he came back to Moris's side. "The plants provide oxygen and food. Of course, this is nothing compared to what we have back home. My parents manage a three hundred acre stand. Still, this is kind of a nice reminder of home."
The idea of hundreds of acres of trees kept Moris in a daze as they followed blue - the engine core. A hand on his arm stopped him from running into the railing at the edge of a platform. For a moment, Moris couldn't comprehend what he saw. This ship didn't carry millions of Terrans - it was hollow. A vast chamber stretched out into darkness. In the center, the darkness seemed to deepen into a void darker than space. Yet, when Moris turned his gaze away, he could almost perceive a point of light.
His guide chuckled as Moris looked toward and away several time. "We all do that, at first," he said. "Some of us still do."
Moris whispered, "What is it?"
"We use a singularity to power our engines," the guide stated. At Moris's look of confusion, the guide elaborated, "A black hole."
Moris almost ran from the room. No one had ever managed to safely use a gravity well for power. Previous attempts had all ended in disaster. The guide continued, "We tried planetary core taps, like the one you have on your station. It was just too risky. This is much safer."
Two megacycles later, the Node still functioned. The Terran starship stayed on station, faithfully providing more than enough power to keep the greater sphere functioning. Now, the greater sphere was one of three. Two more Terran starships had arrived to help construct the other spheres. They were ugly, but people in this system learned to appreciate utility. The second sphere housed the Singularity. Nodian stations all over the galaxy were constructing them, now. Utilitarianism was sweeping the world of art.
The Terrans lived in the third sphere. In a way, the third sphere was the most special, the most unique. One day, it would be a forest. | \[A/N: Coming in at 1233 words, this might just be the longest thing I've ever written.\]
&#x200B;
The Tellamani people were not alone in the universe.
At first, it was just a whisper of radio signals, too regular to ignore but too brief to really place credence in.
Then came another, then another, then a constant stream.
Once the scientists realized it was more than a fluke, it took all of two seconds to point a hypercom generator at the planet of origin and send a signal.
As ecstatic as the Tellamani had been to receive even the distant hints at intelligent life off of their own small blue moon, they were even more so to receive a return hypercom signal.
At first, it was nothing but unintelligible hash, the signal formats too different to read. There was intelligence behind the signal, but no sure meaning.
So they started from the ground up, with a short burst of mathematical sequences. They got the completed set, with another from the other people for them to complete. Within a single day, it was solved and sent, winging across the void with another set of Tellamani design, more complex than the last.
For dozens of revolutions, the scientists of two worlds labored so that they may one day talk in more than simple numbers and notation.
They failed. Every attempt to bridge the gap in cognition between the two people was foiled by some twist. Images were too complex, the computers unable to comprehend the radically different architecture of the others.
Words were utterly unintelligible. Letters are images, after all. Pictograms couldn’t be deciphered, and even if they could, there would be no guarantee of a common frame of reference. The common interactions of the universe, gravity, electromagnetism, radioactivity, could be used, perhaps as metaphors, but there was no sure way to know if the others had interpreted it properly.
But as always, both peoples had numbers, math, and the concept of space. Everything needed to mark a place and a time. It took a few revolutions, but eventually the Tellamani managed to impress upon the others a desire to send a meeting in a certain place at a certain time. Or at least they thought they did. They could not be sure.
They would send a ship anyways. If the messages had not been interpreted, that would be fine. There would be no loss and both peoples would simply resume their attempts to translate each other’s messages.
If the others did send a representative, though, the reward would be immeasurable. A whole new civilization, with new science, new perspectives, and maybe, as some dared to hope, other contacts among the stars.
\-----
“Realspace transition in 3… 2… 1…”
The bridge “windows” clear into a bright starscape as the diplomatic cruiser *Psilar* slides into position with barely a whisper of wasted radiation.
“Status report!” Captain Clarix calls over the whine of deploying radiators as the *Psilar* began dumping the waste heat it had accumulated over the long slipspace journey.
“All departments report nominal functioning of ship systems. Engineering clears for maneuvering,” calls out Nekamreh, the internal officer.
“Slipspace eddies indicate that we have arrive 84 ticks ahead of indicated time,” reports the navigation officer.
“Hold position! Internal, ensure that the diplomatic team is ready for contact.”
Clarix’s wings shuffle and his chest feathers flush a happy orange as he briefly contemplates being the officer presiding over the first meeting between two completely separate intelligent species.
“Diplomatic team reports full readiness. All members–” The science external officer cuts off the internal officer’s report.
“Energy surge bearing 488 by 673! Gamma radiation!”
“Raise shields! Any chance this can be an anomaly?” Clarix snaps as he snaps himself out of his fantasies of first contact. His ship was in danger. This was in no place for something like that.
“Scans indicate no proximate anomalies!”
“Shields raised!”
Clarix watches as a shimmering film of blue energy slides over the *Psilar*, sparking as it shunts aside the gamma energy, glowing brighter as the energy surges ever higher.
Radiation alarms begin to wail as the energy worms its way through the shield, battering at the fragile hull of the *Psilar*.
“Energy increase is plateauing! Shields are keeping radiation below lethal–”
“Contact!” The external combat officer, this time. “Bearing 488 by 673. *Large* contact!”
One window snaps to display the ship that had just appeared in what was an incomprehensible maelstrom of energy.
Clarix can’t prevent a small gasp from escaping his beak.
An immense iron construct, vaguely seed-shaped, floats placidly inside a deadly vortex of radiation. Readouts and overlays blink into existence around it, giving it scale.
It’s the size of a small island. And nearly solid armor.
*It’s a warship.*
“Radiation decreasing. Returning to safe levels,” The external science officer calls out, but Clarix is barely listening.
*Have we been so naïve? Were we so eager to converse with some other soul in the universe that we overlooked something? Did we offend them?*
“Contact is not maneuvering. Radiation is decreasing to baseline, communication is now possible.”
*We may have just doomed everyone. If this is how they build warships, we have no chance of standing against them.*
“Captain? Captain!”
The internal officer shakes him out of his reverie.
“Yes, officer?”
“Diplomatic team is reporting readiness. They are… eager, sir.”
*Did none of them see it?*
“Contact is sending a signal!”
*This is it. The final threats*.
Only, it wasn’t. It was nothing more than an enthalpy equation describing the formation of sodium chloride. An incomplete one.
*Do they want a response? Why the song and dance of sending a warship, but not attacking us immediately?*
“Captain? Do you want to send a response?”
*What it it’s not a warship? They came in a massive flash of radiation. That level of armor would certainly be necessary to withstand that.*
“Captain!”
*No. Yes.*
Clarix contemplates the decision for only a moment longer. They were not making any hostile moves, and nothing existed to be gained by fleeing.
“Send the complete signal. Contact the diplomatic team. Initiate contact.”
*If I’m wrong, their blood will be on my hands.*
Continued: | 2020-10-26T20:03:55 | 2020-10-26T18:20:08 | 100 | 73 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | So, I adopted this puppy. Black as overbrewed coffee, a hairless tail with *scales*, and three heads.
From a box. I figured someone thought he'd end up being put down and just abandoned the little guy because birth defects. Well, not a problem. I'm a dog lover. Even a dog with a few extra heads. Means he'll be smarter than the one I had who liked to run into windows and bark at nothing in the middle of empty rooms.
One week in, I realized paper training wasn't a good idea as I watched all three heads give me a guilty look.
Because he'd kinda had an accident. Like puppies do. Only he ended up barfing flames. On the newspaper. Fortunately, he'd peed on it first and it just left a smouldering spot.
Spot. That's the name for this little fella. He is gonna end up SUCH a star on WhoTube with that little trick, but not until he grows up.
...I had no idea he'd grow this much. He's easily as big as I am, nomming away at a big ol' bowl of dog kibble. Fortunately, we have a few acres for a back yard here, so Spot gets his run-around time and I can put out anything he lights up chasing the squirrels. Nothing gets past this doggo, he sees em a mile away and ROOF RUFF RORF off he goes.
A little unbalanced, mind you. Three heads are a little topheavy and they don't always seem to work together perfectly, so there's plenty of plow marks to go with the scorch marks. Still, it's been a fun eight months.
...the owner showed up today. Well, he claimed he was the owner.
Tall, pale as a bouquet of white lilies. Said someone had stolen his puppy and he'd finally tracked the dog down. Said to name my price for taking care of Spot.
I told him taking care of such a good dog was reward enough, and I wasn't going to send him off alone with a stranger. That Spot was my friend, and I wasn't going to let him go off gods-know-where with someone I never saw before in my life.
He looked startled. Then he smiled.
"A man who loves his dog so much? Your boon is granted."
That's how I became the Keeper of Hounds here. In Tartarus. That big fella over there is Keberos, and he managed- somehow - to get some happy time with one of the hellhounds.
Spot is romping with the pack inside the Dog Park of Damnation. I've got enough severed limbs for everybody. And you know what?
They're good dogs, if you love them enough. And I do. Dunno how my drachmas are going to cash out when I retire from this job, but I figure gold and silver works pretty much everywhere. Now, if you'll excuse me, they're using some poor soul as a chew toy and I think he actually belongs in the lake of molten fire.
"Drop it...drop it...Hey! I said DROP THE DAMNED SOUL. Attagirl. Go play with Spot." | This dog is amazing! Even though his random fire breaths are little bit annoying and his snake tail is awkward, I realized that this dog is amazing. Hes friendly, really strong, smart and handsome. I didn’t really show my dog to a lot of people, but after a while I told my friend John Burgler about it. At first he didn’t believe me and told me that I should go see a doctor. After long time of persuasion, John finally came to my house. Then he saw the dog, he couldn’t believe his eyes “ Bob, you are fucking rich” he said. Then quickly I came to realisation that this dog will make me rich and started to shout from happines with John. He said that he will comeback tommorow to take the dog, because he knows a person who will give millions for it.
During the night I couldn’t sleep, I was very confused, the tought of leaving my best friend was terrific. Even though I needed money very badly, my love for dog won. I decided to tell John that I refuse his offer and dog is staying with me.
Wednesday morning, 8:30 am, I hear doorbell rang. “Thats probably, John”. I opened up the door and told John that I ain’t giving him my doggo. Then John just laughed and pulled out his gun. “ You better give me your fucking dog or I will blow your brains out, did you thought I am going to leave this amount of money to you?” he told. That moment was so weird and I was scared to death, why is John doing it? My best friend since my childhood.I was sad, angry and confused at the same time. But also scared of him shooting. Suddenly our dog came to a room and I don’t know, how, but he realised the situation extremely quickly. With insane quickness he ran into him so fast that John didn’t react to shoot and he got bitten by a dog. The weird thing happened. He slowly started to transform and was screaming in insane pain. At the end of transformation I couldn’t believe my eyes. He turned into a cat. I looked at my dog surprised. “Good job doggo, we have a cat, cant wait to emasculate him.”
This is my first writing work, please give me some tips I can improve on :) | 2019-07-04T08:26:40 | 2019-07-04T05:01:08 | 165 | 52 |
[WP] a love story that ends with the words "and I hate her" | You know, I ran into her, some time after the break up.
It sucked.
We screamed, she cursed, called me an asshole. I called her a bitch.
She threw her popcorn at me.
(We were at the movies.)
That's how much we loved each other. Popcorn throwing in public love. Asshole-bitch-I-never-wanna-see-you-again love. That's how much we missed it, how much we hated one another for not making it work.
That was four months ago, and I still feel the same way.
But she was at Harris' last night. People asked me if I was fine, when she walked in with that guy. They didn't see us, not at first.
No, I'm not fine.
That bitch.
I was with someone, too, so I had that going. My plan was to go there, introduce my new girl, she'd introduce her new guy. Love politics. Let's see who can hate each other more.
So I went. I went over.
But there was no hate. Not from her.
She's happy, she really is. Happy with her new guy, that idiot, sure, but that's not my point. No, my point is:
She's happy for me.
She hugs me, the bitch, and she says “I love you, and I'm really happy you found someone”. And I see it in her eyes:
She means it.
She loves me. She just wants to finish her drink, order dinner, go home with Mr. Whatever and think of me in a loving, respectful, nostalgic manner from time to time, like “I hope he's happy, he deserves it”.
She can't love me. What kind of bullshit is that?
Because I still hate her. I still hate her when I think about the lazy Sunday mornings watching Seinfeld. I still hate her when I think about that day in the pier, when we first kissed. I hate her when I remember the way her eyes would wrinkle at the edges and almost close, whenever I said something that made her laugh.
I still hate everything about her.
But now she loves me. I'm a happy memory. A "days-gone-by" side character.
You see? This is why I can't see her, ever again.
This is why this breakup is killing me.
Because she loves me.
And I hate her. | One more day.
One more day was all it would've taken. I think she knew it, too. All I needed was one more day, and I could have made her dreams real.
I had made the reservations. The time; six o'clock. The *maître d'* knew my plan, from the moment I walked into the door, all the way up to the moment when we walked out on the balcony, underneath the cold, shimmering night sky, and I asked her to be mine, forever.
She would've said yes.
She would have said, "Yes, yes, a million times, *yes*! I can't imagine my life without you . . .", eyes welling up with tears, gleaming with an effulgence of starlight, "and I thought when you said you weren't ready, that you'd slip away. I thought you'd leave me alone, forever. I need you".
When the phone rang, and I heard her mother's quivering, somber voice utter my name, I knew.
"She left a note, you know. She said that you'd abandoned her, that her future, her life was over".
Before the despair creeping up from within my gut reached my heart, I let out a derisive snort.
"I didn't abandon her", I thought "I wanted to surprise her. She's too impatient, like a kid on Christmas Eve . . . Why couldn't she wait *one more day*?"
She ruined my surprise, and I hate her.
| 2014-11-24T04:03:48 | 2014-11-24T03:54:14 | 702 | 38 |
[WP] The day is 4th of July. The US suddenly cut off its connection to the outside world. Then they start to broadcast an international countdown. | Stephen and the rest had tried, and they had failed.
The plan was flawless, Stephen had okayed it himself. He had gone in with 4 others and had come out alone. The monster that had become The State of America should not be allowed to live. They had gone in, everything perfected, but what did they get in the end?
Bryson and Jenna dead. Greg probably being tortured to death. Maybe the route Paul took was best. Maybe putting a bullet in his own skull was better than whatever lay after.
The State had grown into a dictatorship, a police state; something far from what President Colm had promised them during his campaign. He was meant to make America the greatest nation that had ever existed, but they were so locked up from the outside that they could never know.
How was Kathy doing in Berlin? Did it matter anymore?
That's when the numbers started. Sixty showed up first, waiting only a second before giving its place away to the number below it. The TV screen flickered. He knew they could all see it, absolutely everyone. Every last person on the planet. Not like there were many of them left anyway.
Maybe if he hadn't given the go, this wouldn't be happening. They wouldn't have provoked anyone with their flawed operation. But no. He had said yes. He had grown sloppy, thinking that July 3rd held some meaning. Independence's Eve. He had wanted to send a message, but all he had sent was his friends to die. And yet he had escaped, safe and sound. He was guilty.
*34. 33.*
He felt the ground rumble, shake. He could see it in his mind's eye, plumes of smoke rising to the sky as the monument to The State rose, disappearing within the clouds. The First World wouldn't see it again, but millions of scared people, men, women and children would see it, and it only. The last thing.
*3. 2.*
*What does it matter.* And then the roar. | "I cant believe these idiots made me President. I can finally show this world my beautiful art."
"Mr. President! Please dont so this!" An agent said in the oval office.
"Come here John, watch poetry in action!"
"Why? Why have you betrayed the people like this?"
"Betrayal?! You dare tell me after all humanity has done that I OF ALL THE PRESIDENTS! ALL THE CORRUPTION! HAVE BETRAYED THE PEOPLE?!"
"...."
"Thats what I figured John... Its time to start anew. Build this land from the ground up. My only hopes is the new generation can turn this negative into a positive.."
Over 500 billion tons of explosives have been scattered around America. The masterplan was to rid the world of the United States. 30 seconds on the clock.
"You see John? How poetic this all is?? To bring the US to ashes on the same it was founded!! Only to rise again like a DAMN PHOENIX!"
10 seconds remain. President reaches for the big red button. John reaches for the pistol. 3....2....1.
*Edit for grammer | 2017-06-25T11:46:41 | 2017-06-25T10:11:16 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] When someone's heart breaks so does a piece of our world; this creates fissures, valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon.
Have fun! :D | "Hello, you're new here, who are you?"
"Greetings, I'm Mr Moon," said the Moon cheerily.
"I'm glad you're here Mr Moon, I have been so very lonely."
"Well be lonely no more, for I'm here to stay," the Moon reassured.
"Oh that's just wonderful, I have so wanted to talk to someone for so very long."
A pause.
"Mr Moon, can we be friends?"
"I think we already are," spoke the Moon.
"I'm glad you're here Mr Moon."
&nbsp;
Eons pass.
&nbsp;
"Did you feel that Mr Moon!"
"Feel what?" said the Moon.
"That!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about my friend," the Moon quizzically replied.
"Life!"
"Life?"
"Life! I have life growing on me, this is amazing!"
"That's...wonderful," the Moon said hesitantly.
"Be careful friend, life has it's...problems," warned the Moon.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, life has free will-" the Moon started.
"What's free will?"
The Moon considered his words. "Free will means life can choose how to think, choose how to feel, choose how to act. Sometimes those choices can be... bad."
"Bad?"
"Sometimes free will means making bad choices. Jealously, anger, hatred. These are all choices."
"What's hatred?"
"Hatred," the Moon said, choosing his words carefully, "is when you don't like something, or someone-"
"Do you mean like when when you get in the way of me and Miss Sun, so her warmth no longer kisses my skin with happy rays?"
"No my friend," said the Moon, chuckling, before his tone again became serious. "Hatred is when you dislike someone so much, it begins to consume you. It bends your every thought, twisting you and diminishing you until you become...less"
"But why would you choose that? You could choose happiness! Or joy! Or love!"
"Friend-"
"Wonderful, majestic, beautiful love."
"Friend, life is...confusing and complicated. Sometimes, life makes those choices before they even realise where those choices lead."
"Well I'll never make those choices, and that life on me won't either. I'm going to love them, right from my very core to the edge of my atmosphere."
"Friend, I'm just trying to protect you-"
"No Mr Moon!" And the Moon had never heard such conviction and steel in his friend's words.
"I'm going to be the best home they could hope for, and they'll love their home so much they'll always choose everything that's good in this Universe."
"Just be careful friend," the Moon said, concerned.
&nbsp;
Time passes.
&nbsp;
"Mr Moon, Mr Moon, wake up, wake up!"
"What is it?"
"Mr Moon, I don't understand!"
"Understand what friend?"
"What did I do wrong?"
"Wrong?"
"They took pieces of me, and twisted them into these, weapons of hate and-"
"Oh my friend, I'm so sorry."
"Mr Moon, they're killing each other," and the anguish in his friend's voice tore at the Moon's heart.
"Why are they fighting each other?"
"I don't know," the Moon replied.
"Why do they hate so much?"
"I don't know," the Moon replied again.
"Was I not a good enough home?"
"You were," Mr Moon told his friend.
"Did I not do a good enough job?"
"Friend, this isn't your fault!" the Moon exclaimed.
Silence sat between the two. Mr Moon could find no words of comfort. He longed to take the burden from his friend, to hold him, and reassure him. But-
"Mr Moon?"
"Yes?"
"I can feel it."
"It?"
"Every pulsing beat of their hate. Every flash of anger. Every anguishing moment of pain."
The Moon looked on in silence.
"Mr Moon..."
"Yes," said the Moon, dreading his friend's response.
"Children are dying."
And the Moon could only watch, as sorrow gripped the Earth.
And in it's grief, the Earth cracked. | "Keep this with you at all times." He hands me a silver locket. I open it and it was empty.
No, Dean was not the best. He was callous and he had the worst of hygienes. He was stingy, although our kids and their kids will have endless supply of their needs and wants. But he's kind, and charming. He smiles and my parents are happy. Plus in a world where every heartbreak leads to a crack in the ground, or someone's death from falling into them, adding another heartbreak would be pointless. This especially if by anyone's standard, he really could offer me a comfortable life. So I went along. The last three of our ten years dating, he has made an absolute effort to be a dream man. I was so proud of him. Proud to intertwine my arm with him leading as we walk down to the stores. He'd buy me flowers and scheduled date nights so that we will never be apart for too long. My favourite was the day he brought home an unreleased video game that I have waited for so long to buy. He has it days before it was released. When I found an engagement ring in a beautiful box hidden behind his socks, I said yes.
It was the day of our wedding. I woke up to a somber reception outside my room. There was no one with camera, no make up and hair people. The expected chaos was nowhere to be seen. My immediate thought was, oh no, he's badly injured. Or worst, he's dead. I run downstairs to the family room. My dad blocked me in the hallway. "You shouldn't see." I pushed pass him. There was his parents and my mother sitting on a sofa, their words silenced by my entrance. My mother gets up, her eyes teary. At that moment, Dean stepped out from the guest bathroom. Disheveled and hungover. He froze as our eyes met.
Minutes later, I learnt everything. No, the worst part wasn't that he slept with a hooker last night. The worst part was being informed that the past three years, he had dated a friend who suspiciously distanced herself from me all these time. His changing demeanor was not for me. The ring I found, was never mine. I stormed to my car, him begging me for forgiveness, and I drove away.
There was a vast empty land, half an hour drive. Not long after I parked, he followed me. "I've been meaning to tell you, Cait. I...you found the ring and I.." "Seriously, Dean, you had far too many chances. 3 years! You didn't once brought it up!" I walked away as he stammered his way into excuses. Finally I had enough. "Hey, asshole, remember this?" I held up the locket. I had been carrying it in my wallet. He stared in shock. I threw it down and with every crushing step I make on it, the land cracked, until it was big enough to eat me. I didn't want to live in this world anymore anyway. The shame would be too big.
Over the years, people came by here to do so. To run away from a heart break. And that's how the Grand Canyon was formed. | 2015-12-03T15:00:03 | 2015-12-03T12:13:15 | 1,218 | 107 |
[WP] Demon Blades each portray a human emotion, when the user feels the emotion of their blade, they resonate and the power rises 10 fold. the Demon Blade of Wrath was weak, no matter how mad the user, it couldn't match the other blades. turns out, no one was angry enough to use it right, until now. | Groggy thoughts...clouded memory...so weak...so weak. The blade had been sleeping for ages, too weak to even reach out for a new wielder. Every righteous hero and every depraved villain who took the blade ended up dead, surprised at how dull the blade was, how heavy and unbalanced it felt. The blade of wrath was anything but wrathful.
Eventually, the last hero to wield the weapon was slain by a great beast, his body falling into a canyon to rot for eternity, and the blade fell with him. Legends spread of a cursed blade that would cause the wielders death if they were foolish enough to take it into battle.
Eons passed, oceans rose and fell and the land shifted. New people came and went, and the blade slept, too weak to do more than slumber...
The Wrath snorted itself awake. It felt warmth and became aware enough to see that something had pulled it from the earth. Excited voices yammering away about finding such quality steel. Steel? Is that what it was? It took stock of itself and realized that in its long rest it had lost its form, becoming a lump of raw material again, even losing it's fancy gems it never wanted in the first place. It was a weapon of war, not a whore to be dolled up. The Wrath slept again.
PAIN! HEAT AND PAIN! The Wrath snapped awake, screaming silently as it was put through a forge, melted and burned. Unable to do anything but experience blow after blow, constant pain, constant heat, constant pressure and cold. It passed out.
Rage...pure rage. The Wrath felt power flow into it. Power it had never felt. True fury filled it and it took stock. It's blade was shortened by more than half, and it only had one, gently curved, edge. It no longer felt a hilt or a guard, just a finely made tang in a luxuriously smooth hardwood handle.
And the pure anger. Whomever was wielding it was slicing flesh and screaming. Red hot, yet controlled fury flowed from it's new and beloved owner into the steel. The blade, already sharpened by a master craftsman, was finally infused with the anger that The Wrath so craved. It sliced and sliced, listening to the song of it's partner.
"DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE A BIG FUCKING MUFFIN!" The man yelled as sliced into the meat of his opponent. The warrior screamed at another person. “MY GRAN COULD DO BETTER! AND SHE'S DEAD!" The Wrath was in ecstasy at the thought of yet another foe being slain, as it felt its blade drag through flesh, as it was filled with the pure, undiluted anger of it's wielder!
It finally had enough power, it was sated and could finally see. It was not on a battlefield slicing foes...it was in a kitchen slicing meat...and the man wielding it was screaming at another human. The Wrath was furious at first, it was a blade, made for battle and not a common tool...
...yet...the fury of the man who held it...it was so fine. Maybe this was where The Wrath was meant to be...
He leaned into a young mans face, screaming "YOU ADDED SO MUCH SALT AND PEPPER I CAN HEAR THE DISH SINGING 'PUSH IT!"
...yes...this was right...this was home. The Wrath felt joy as it separated another piece of meat from the bone and drank the rage of The Ramsay. | Master would've used this blade well, I thought.
Her sword, after all, was one of hatred. Against the unfairness of the world. Against pain. Against destiny. Against the apathetic heaven that only observed suffering.
It was why her sword was called Infernal Heaven. Why her sect was called the Demonic Cult.
It no longer mattered, however. Master had already left this world as silently as the snow she was named after. I had inherited her teaching, but not her emotions. My sword was the same as hers, yet the intent behind it was entirely different. And that made all the differences.
The blade felt heavy in my hand even as I brought it up against its brother, the blade of Greed. Without anger to draw from, it was no more than a durable sword, a pathetic sight in comparison to the faintly glowing blade it was clashing with.
It was all I need, however. The sheer weight of my swing forced my enemy stumbling back several steps. I did not pursue. He could not run anyway. To run, to abandon his Greed for survival was to lose the blade. Forever.
"You!" -he, a tyrant who wish to rule the world, screamed at me in anger- "How are you still alive? You cannot control the blade of Wrath!"
In his hand, Greed slowly grew in brilliance. It was feeding on his delusion of grandeur.
I shrugged. "I don't need to."
He came at me again, Greed dripping off of his blade. His swing, aimed at my face, carved a golden streak in the air. I brought my blade up once again, and painted over the world.
Flame burned. It came from a mansion full of caged children. It came from a house in which a small family lived. It came from fields on which children played. It came from streets on which people once thrived.
The flame tore through gold. It licked the tyrant's face, leaving a scorch mark on his previously unblemished skin. He screamed and backed away, his hands shaking, his expression growing increasingly desperate.
I suppose having the illusion of invincibility shattered has that effect on people.
"You would burn the world for your conquest." -I stepped forward. Flame trailed from my sword. -"This is the fire that you have lit."
"Feel its burn, and repent."
AN: based on SSS-Class Suicide Hunter. The Master's name is So Baek-hang, apparently translated to "The scent of snow". Couldn't elaborate on the swordmanship within the story because I'm sleepy as hell, but the gist of it is that it works based on empathy of pain. | 2021-09-18T15:30:23 | 2021-09-18T12:56:51 | 108 | 34 |
[WP] The Sea of Trees. The deeper you go, the taller they get, and the more incredible the animals. After a month of traveling, you just found your first clearing. | Samantha has been missing in the sea of trees for five days now.
We pass the infamous sign, nailed askew to a tall redwood: DO NOT PASS THIS POINT ALONE. We've lost many a teenager to that sign, to stupid dares accepted under the influence of alcohol and testosterone.
But we're safe. Our search group is a bit more than twenty, led by the stumbling, muttering father. He's a mess; his hair is so greasy, it looks two shades darker than normal. And I swear he was wearing that same red shirt when he first came down to the police office.
I'd be a mess, too, if I lost my kid in the most dangerous place on earth.
“What are the chances of us actually finding her?” one of the younger officers whispers to me. “It feels like we're just wasting resources, here. There's a burglary down on fifth, shouldn't we –”
“The other guys will handle it. And watch your tongue, Jim.” But he's right. The chances that Samantha would still be alive after five days in a *normal*forest are less than ten percent. In the sea of trees, where people have spotted giants, basilisks, and spiders the size of a toddler? No chance.
For two hours we march deeper into the forest. The chirps and rustles fade; the sunlight dims, reducing the forest to gray shadows. The shouts of “Samantha” grow strained, weak, hopeless.
“Why isn't her mom here?” Jim mutters to another officer. “A delinquent, I bet –”
“She died. When Samantha was a baby. Damnit, do you ever stop talking?” I interject. My legs are tired, and sweat pours down my back. Another fruitless search, another waste of a day, another empty coffin.
Huffing and puffing, we come upon a clearing. Golden light hits the floor, illuminating scattered stumps of trees, ragged and torn. In the center, perched on a boulder – there sits Samantha! Surprisingly clean, surprisingly alert, surprisingly well fed. “Daddy!” she yells, running over with arms outstretched.
“I can't believe you're okay,” he sobs against her shoulder.
“It's a miracle,” I mutter. In the past decade, only about a hundred of the thousands missing have been rescued. And when they've been rescued… well, at best they've been thin and dirty. At worst? Muttering endlessly, staring at something invisible, booked right into the mental asylum upon returning home.
Something doesn't add up. But I swallow the nagging feeling and smile at the little girl.
We turn around to make the trip back. Samantha holds her dad's hand, skipping playfully, chattering on and on. We've only been walking for a few minutes, when –
*Rustle.*
Probably just a bird… right? I glance around. The trees are lines of grays and blues; pitch blackness lies beyond. The golden clearing shines in the distance, like the last rays of sun as it slips below the horizon.
*Crack.*
I grab my gun and point it at the sound, squinting. A large shape shifts between the trees, but I can't make it out.
“No! Stop!” Samantha screams.
“Why?” My gun shakes in my hands. I finger the trigger.
“It's probably just Momma!”
“Samantha, your mom's –”
“No, Officer – my *adopted* momma. She took such good care of me here. She loves me so much – and said she'd protect me from anyone who tried to take me.”
*Snap.* | With dirt-covered fingers, I wiped the sweat from my eyes and squinted. The darkness of the forest taught me to look twice, and then again, before every step. I walked forward, the browning duff crunching beneath my feet, and fell to my knees.
The clearing was a great, green circle around me. Shadowy light fell through the heavy forest canopy. I reached out and felt the soft warmth on my arms, and stretched for the first time in a long time. The scent of rosewood and wet grass tickled my nose. Not that of half-eaten animals or decaying logs. Not the stale-sweat fear of being watched by something you cannot see. Just natural nature. It smelled like the woods back home.
I set up camp for the night. The fire burned brightly, casting dim shadows along the flattened grass. Through the canopy I could glimpse one or two stars, but it sat over me like a pitch-black dome.
*Do you like it?*
"It's nice," I responded dreamily, before a wave of fear crept up my spine. I spun around, my vision bobbing, eyes darting to and fro along the clearing. Only darkened tree trunks. Stillness. Even the crickets were sleeping. I contemplated adding more branches to the fire, then decided against it, tossing dirt onto it. The embers glowed and hissed from the damp soil. I ran my fingers through my filthy hair and crawled sleepily into my tent.
"Just a long day. Nothing more," I yawned, and then sleep took me.
When I awoke, it was still night. I flicked on my flashlight and took a look outside. The logs from the campfire were still there, the embers long dead. A wisp of smoke rose into the air, and I watched it, blinking daftly. According to my watch, it had been six hours since I fell asleep. The smoke coiled in the cool night air, and I felt the goosebumps rise on my skin.
"Hello?" Quietly at first. "Helllooo?" The clearing was dead quiet.
*Hello.*
I turned and saw it.
*Do you like my home?*
I could feet my throat clenching, dry as sand.
*Are you hungry? Guests...they're always hungry...and tired.*
It walked with limping footsteps into the darkness of the forests, and I saw it drag out a long, lumpy sack.
*I wrap them so they do not smell.*
It opened the sack and pull something out. And the most putrid, haunting smell assaulted my nose, and I fell to the ground, retching. I could barely see through the tears, but I could tell it was my size. It held its trophy, bloody teeth gleaming in the darkness.
*It smells just like home.*
| 2017-06-17T12:52:38 | 2017-06-17T11:39:36 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Humans left Earth a long time ago. In their place, dogs have evolved to be the new sentient species, but they never lost their love of humankind. Their technology has finally caught up to space travel, and they take to the stars in search of their human precursors.
You've all fallen for one of the classic blunders!
I often post prompts here on this subreddit, and do my best to come up with unique, fresh ideas, but recently I haven’t been able to get a prompt above 25 upvotes or so, and I keep seeing the same basic ideas circulating in the top spots – dogs, aliens, superpowers, death.
So yesterday I decided to give the people what they want. DOGS! The people love DOGS! What else do they love? SPACE! How about DOGS IN SPACE! YES! HAHAHAHAHA!
And now I feel like I’ve sold my soul for karma.
Anyways, regardless of all that, there have been some amazing stories written, and I’ve loved reading them! Thanks to everyone who wrote! I haven’t been able to keep up with every story, but I’ll try and catch up and read them all over the next few days. I noticed for a lot of people this was their first time responding to a prompt. For you guys, welcome to the ever growing list of authors, and I hope to see more of your stories in the future! | "Dog Star"
&#x200B;
“Our human who art in the Heavens, Master be thy name. The kibble will come, the steak well done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily walk, sniffing those who trespass, as we are sniffed by those who trespass against us, and lead us not into hedgerows, but deliver us from leashes. For thine is the ball the chew and squeaky toy, now and forever, amen.”
Padfoot lifted his head solemnly, waiting for the Priest to signal the completion of the blessing, fighting the urge to twist and nip at his systems harness until it was over. As the assembled team began to disperse to their various tasks, he finally felt free to turn to one of the Memory Masters towering above him, his wagging tail eliciting a response from it even before the neural link translated his request in smooth, digitally neutral English:
“Adjust this for me, please.”
The Memory Master dropped laboriously to one knee, digits working to move the harness back into position as Padfoot gave it more verbal queues. A Memory Master could do nearly anything, of course. It would play with you, pet you, talk to you in a tone as neutral and unvaried as the neural link made his own “voice” when he spoke; the ability to manipulate the world around them through the Memory Masters was the only thing that had made canid civilisation possible - still the name was apt for they were just the expression of a memory. They smelled wrong and that would never change; they were a constant reminder of human failings. The parting gift from one of their kind had been awareness. Sentience. Still, that had been all - no digits, no vocal chords, just a part of the whole package and some technological remnants to go on. Padfoot knew in some abstract sense he ought to be angry with them, but something fundamental inside forbade it. That was what this journey had been about after all, hadn’t it? An interstellar game of fetch, in reverse. Outside the habitation torus, the unearthly blue glow of ion engines decelerating them relative to their destination reminded him that this game was nearing its end. Time to find Perdita, and go over the protocol one more time.
This was a multi-disciplined crew, but more to the point it was a multi-pack crew. They’d all been instrumental: The Newfoundlings, the Danes, the Brindled Collective, even the Handbag Clans of the Western Coast had finally united after centuries of pack warfare to make this dream possible. And then there was Perdita.
He found her in the “park”, the central chamber of the habitat, lit by frequencies of earth-like light and lush with the hydroponics that kept this vessel oxygenated. He cocked his head to one side and watched with tail languidly twitching as she sped across the sward, a blur of black spots on white coat as she leapt to intercept the frisbee thrown by one of the Memory Masters.
Padfoot barked once, eschewing a language of industry for more primal natural communication. Perdita’s head whipped up, ears pricked as she heard him and barrelled straight for him. He patiently followed the formal dance of sniffs and other body languages before resorting to the neural link once more:
“Less than an hour to go and you’re playing?”
Perdita’s response was as gently mocking as his opener: “I apologise if you feel I’m not taking this seriously. I was just practising the fine art of diplomacy.”
“Are you ready?”
A single bark of assent. “Good. Sirius IV-B Parking orbit in the next few minutes. Let’s be where we should be.”
&#x200B;
EDIT: Added a title, fixed missing words.
Part 2:
[https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bok8x5/wp\_humans\_left\_earth\_a\_long\_time\_ago\_in\_their/ennuuef?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bok8x5/wp_humans_left_earth_a_long_time_ago_in_their/ennuuef?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) | Long ago, long before the time of canines, another species
ruled the Earth. They were not the strongest of species, the quickest, or even longest-lived,
but their incredible intelligence allowed them to become the apex species. They
created a world in their own image and did incredible accomplishments our
species has yet to begin to discover.
But alas, that intelligence came at a
great cost. The humans had no one to stop them from their own advancements, and
the planet became a dried-up husk of itself. The species eventually depleted the
last of its resources, and slowly died out. The evidence of their reign slowly vanished,
and the world started anew. Somehow, our ancestors were able to live in these
harsh conditions and evolved into what is now us.
This is what we have thought for the majority of dogkind’s
reign on the Earth, at least. Many moons ago, a puzzling blueprint was found
deep below the streets of New Bork City. It was for… some kind of spaceship. The world became abuzz with speculation. Could
it be true? Could some of them have actually survived and run off somewhere far
beyond our reach?
For some unknown reason, everyone innately wanted to finally
meet this elusive species. My kind focused most on its resources to create the technology we need for such a contraption. And now, using those same blueprints, we finally
have a way to discover them.
My sweaty paw nearly slipped as I switched on the final levers
in preparation to launch. And with a final command to base, I was off. I looked
out my window to see the world, my world. And what was their world. It looked… like
my chew toy, from all the way out here.
I probably would have stared at it forever, if an alert didn’t
begin to blare.
Something crashed into one of the jets, hard. I tried to
contact mission control, only for static to come back. I try to see if I could
go out and repair it myself, but the doors were designed for the other species,
not mine. The ship began to spin around. I was slammed into a wall and fell unconscious.
I awoke a few hours later. I slowly climbed back into my chair and tried to run a diagnostic report. All the fuel had leaked out, I had no
further way to control the ship. I tried for contact again, but still no response.
I was floating endlessly in the great void of space. According to the ship, I
only had five hours of oxygen left. I could do nothing but lie down helplessly
in the vacuum of space.
Hours began to pass, and I began to feel drowsy. The ship
noted I didn't have much time at all. As I felt a tear began to leak out, something
dragged my ship downward. I pulled myself up to the window and saw some kind
of beam dragging me to the planet.
Was this… no, it’s dragging me in too slow. I
won’t make it.
My eyes were too heavy to keep open, and I shut them for a
final time. My last memory was something asking “who’s a good boy?” I’m not
sure who said that.
**Sorry, I was listening to sad space music when writing this. Thanks for reading, check out /r/StoryStar if you wanna read more of my stories.** | 2019-05-14T10:33:45 | 2019-05-14T10:07:58 | 88 | 59 |
[WP] In a stereotypical dystopian story, a teen girl with a bow attempts to cause an uprising against the government. Except, there isn't anything actually wrong with the government. She is actually just really kinda whiny and bitchy.
[removed] | They came for him at dawn, screaming across the dusty plain, throwing up a choking cloud in their wake which turned the sun red. He knew this was an entirely dramatic decision, since she'd set up camp sometime the afternoon before. Within sight of the city's towers.
The gates and walls of Newhaven were more than strong enough to keep them out, but that wasn't what he wanted. His men had their orders, all civilians had been evacuated to the bunkers. They were ready. He was ready for his audience.
They burst through the gate, apparently not even registering how easy it all was. Either they were too used to attacking the smaller settlements and steads around Newhaven, or this was their first raid. Either way, it was going to be their last. It wasn't every day the bandits actually presented themselves to you, after all.
She took an astonishly long time to reach him, though he deliberately stayed in his office. She must have stopped for a rousing speech or two along the way. He stood wearily as she burst through the door, bow at the ready, dark hair flying dramatically. Only her closest lieutenants were with her, each similarly armed with longbows, crossbows and swords.
"Hello, *father*!" She spat, tossing her head.
"Jane." He said, sighing inwardly. "Glad you're home safe."
"I've returned!" She said, in what she obviously believed was a fierce, rabble-rousing voice. In reality, she just sounded like a sixteen-year-old girl having a temper tantrum.
"I see that."
"I've returned," she repeated, her eyes flashing, "to free the people from the yoke of their cruel tyrant! I've returned, Father, so that we can rebuild society as something good for all, so that my child will never know a world of oppression, indecency, and indignity!"
At that she threw a look at Jaime, Tom Brandon's eldest boy, who was stood right behind her. It was obviously meant to be a meaningful glance, or maybe a longing one. Instead they both just looked a bit constipated. The pause gave him a chance to process what she'd said, however. He slapped a hand over his face, groaning.
"Fuck's sake, Janey, you're pregnant too?"
"This isn't about who I choose to love!" She cried dramatically, her face turning red as a bead of sweat began to trickle from her hairline. "This is about..."
"It's about me grounding you," he said sharply, dropping his hand. He gestured, and his men came forward, rifles at the ready. Jane's followers looked uncertain now. "It's about you thinking we love Hannah more. What this is about, Jane, is a child having a tantrum and running off to join some bandits with her friends. That's what this is about."
"I didn't join the bandits!" She yelled. That attempt at a revolutionary tone had vanished now. She stamped her foot. "They're temporary *allies*. I'll reward them when I take over, so..."
"They came with you because they thought they'd get to pillage the city while you were up here." He said, deliberately staying calm. "Don't worry, I'll deal with them. Kids, you hand your weapons over to my men now. Your parents have been worried sick about you all."
The other kids, staring down the barrels of actual guns with the crackle of gunfire outside, handed over their gear willingly. One, a girl who couldn't have been older than twelve, started to cry. Jane stamped her foot again and shrieked wordlessly.
"You always have to ruin *everything*!" She screamed, "I'm going to take over the city and free everyone from slavery, and *you can't stop me*!"
"Jane, no one here's a slave. This is the only truly safe place for half a continent. People are happy to be here. You've been out there now, you've see. That, haven't you? Anyway, you'll get your chance to lead when I retire..."
"I'm not waiting until then! You're a monster!"
She loosed the arrow - the look on her face suggested she hadn't meant to do it, or maybe that she was surprised she had dared too. The arrow flew surprisingly true (she must have been practicing) and lodged in his vest. He took half a step back, bumping into the desk, and let out an irritated grunt. Before he could do anything else there was a deafening report, followed by a heavy thud.
He looked down at his crumpled daughter, horrified. Then she rolled over, pressed a hand to the exit wound just above her hip (which was, thankfully, oozing rather than gushing) and began to weep hysterically.
"Daddy! He shot me, you let him shoot me!"
He sighed heavily. "Dave, take the others to the station, contact their parents. Henry, Bill, you take my arch-nemesis to Doctor Jennings, please? And Gary," he looked at the man who had fired, who was now frozen in place, looking appalled, "please don't do that again." | Freya readied her aim, as a hushed silence fell over the masses. Her cloak whipped in the chill night air. Everyone was staring at her in adoration, hanging onto every word - it was the perfect moment to exact her revenge.
"Your day has come!" she screamed, triumphant at the sight of Jarek Earl, ruler of the Five Isles, on his knees before her. "Just look at what you've done to this land! See the destruction and the pain. Look, and be ashamed!"
She gestured broadly at the desolate wastelands surrounding them. The crowd howled in approval. Jarek Earl's government had taken control of the Isles the previous year, the latest crop of 'leaders' in a vicious cycle of corruption and disease. It was time to rid the Isles of the cancer that had crippled it for so long. So Freya said, anyway. And with her long, fiery mane of hair and passionate speeches, how could she be wrong?
"*I* didn't do this to the land, it's been this way for five decades. It's an immensely complex problem. But in fact, I'm trying to -" Jarek began, but Freya spoke over him.
"Silence! Stop twisting the truth. A 'complex' problem, oh *please*. Don't come crawling to us with your apologies! We see through them and through you," she hissed, dragging the bowstring back further. She'd let it fly straight at his forehead.
"You insulted your people and insulted me personally," she went on.
"Citizen Training wasn't meant as an insult, it - " Jarek tried to say, but the Freyarian holding him to the ground slapped him over the head, to screams of approval from the crowd.
"Not meant as an insult? Telling us we do not know our own trades? Our own hearts? Making us believe we are not good enough?" Freya whispered into the expectant silence that had spread through the crowds. "Trying to demoralise us, to infect us with the ways *you* think we should work, should think, should dream?"
Someone in the crowd started weeping at the passion ringing in her voice. She seemed like a vision from a story, so tall and proud, with that vibrant hair streaming in the wind. She always dressed so well, too. The girl was a true inspiration for the people.
"Die, old man," Freya said, and let the arrow fly. She would see his blood spread across the lands, she -
The arrow thudded into a tree on the far left of the open field.
From afar, the cries and thundering approach of a rival army could be heard. Jarek's forces, arriving en masse.
Jarek rose as the Freyarians stood frozen in disbelief. Except for Freya, no-one had brought any weapons. She disapproved when anyone tried to 'confuse the people' by competing with her skills.
"I was just trying to train you properly in archery, girl," he told the teenager, whose face was red with fury and shame. "That's all I've ever wanted for the people. For them to know their trades well, and apply it for the good of everyone. I wanted you to become a valuable member in my army. I still think that's possible. But now I think I'd better enroll you in strategic planning, as well. My armies have known of this gathering for weeks. I let you drag me here to get the chance to reason with you. To try, at least."
Freya allowed herself to be bound and led away by the rival army, but kept her head high and her jaw firm. They thought they'd beaten her, but they'd see. She'd be the best archer that ever walked the Isles, and she'd do it her *own* way. And soon, the people would choose a new leader. They would rise up in her defense. They would tear this land apart before Jarek could tighten his grip on the Isles. He didn't know exactly how many people believed in her, who would follow her anywhere. *They* certainly wouldn't want an ugly, boring old man for a leader.
They'd just miss her rousing speeches too much, for one thing. Jarek had always been the worst at speeches.
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-11-15T23:15:06 | 2016-11-15T22:55:23 | 1,112 | 274 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | The end of all galactic life had been going on for nearly 10 standard cycles. The Enemy was as relentless as it was ancient, still no one knew where they had come from, or what their purpose was beyond mere universal destruction.
A long time ago, most sovereign governments and most of the colonies had all but given up the fight, realising they were horribly outnumbered and outgunned. Most made some effort or another to preserve life and civilisation. About half had launched massive expeditions to cross dark space to settle in other galaxies. Others built massive vaults on isolated planets where they froze their best and brightest to be thawed after the Enemy had left. Others still isolated themselves completely, destroying their links to the Network that allowed interstellar travel. The remainder simply gave up, thinking of extinction by the Enemy as the logical next step in galactic evolution, as if they were some sort of cosmic force of nature.
When I say 'most', I really mean *all but one*. One people still fought. They had been ravaged more than any other civilisation, enduring multiple planetary bombardments and ground invasions, and practically no effective single government remained, but *they still fought*, and in ways no one could predict or even comprehend. The Enemy was doubtlessly the most feared creatures in the Cosmos, but to those who remained alive, the Human was a close second.
There was a rumour, which I had recently confirmed from their own military, that they had at one point towed three small moons into orbit over one of the colonies under bombardment. These moons were then detonated at high speed at slingshot trajectories, which effectively turned them into planet-sized *shotgun blasts* that ripped the Enemy to shreds. According to their military, this tactic had been repeated and refined a few times since, and now the Enemy had withdrawn from any Human colonial system with an asteroid field.
And then there were their 'conventional' tactics. Humans would regularly 'booby-trap' their own equipment, leaving it behind on the battlefield when it was damaged so that the Enemy would die as they tried to salvage it. Many of them even carried explosives on their person into combat for similar purposes, and there were thousands of instances of these soldiers flanking the Enemy and detonating themselves behind their lines. To a Human, *anything* could be a weapon. One of their soldiers told me that anything that is 'harder, sharper, or pointier than your own body' can be a weapon. That mentality, combined with a penchant for ridiculous high-risk tactics had actually won them a fair amount of victories in the Endless War, some of which had been against those many who had enslaved themselves to the Enemy and now fought *for* them.
Yes, the Human was as feared as he was insane. And even knowing just how insane these Humans could be, I was still shocked when I heard about their most recent plan.
"These Network links literally punch holes in the fabric of space-time, right?"
"Yes..."
"And you can manufacture them fairly cheaply, right?"
"Well... cheaper than warships, anyway?"
"Right! So we figure, we construct, say, a hundred of the buggers, and use two of them for each of these devices!"
The Human was gesturing toward a blueprint hologram of an ancient device from their past, what they called a 'nuke'. Apparently, the ancient Human had been equally insane to the modern one, and had actually thought it a good idea to deploy *nuclear fission* as weapons on the battlefield. Which they had done, first sparingly and later - even knowing what it meant - on a global scale, in what the *utter morons* called the 'Third World War'. *Third*, can you believe that?!
"Let me get this straight," I pinched the back of my neck with my tail, still not quite believing what was being suggested, "You plan on replacing the fissile material in these bombs with Network links. Correct?"
"Yes!"
"And you are aware that this will, at the very least, tear open a hole in space-time, yes?"
"A black hole, yessir!"
"...you realise that this may actually unravel *reality itself*?!"
"It either works or it doesn't, Praetor. Either the Enemy dies, or we all die, Enemy included. If we don't do this, they live and we die."
There was a glaring hole in the Human Admiral's logic. "Or, you know, it could simply *not work* and we will have wasted tons of resources at something completely unproductive."
The Human waved an appendage my way in a strange side-to-side motion I had recently understood was some kind of *chiding* gesture.
"*Hope*," said the Human, "Hope is *never* unproductive." | "Commander Trill? They're back at it."
The commander's stomach dropped when he heard his secretary's slightly muffled voice. "I'm sorry, can you repeat? Who's back at what?"
There was a pause. Trill crossed his fingers, a stupid human superstition which had spread like the plague. Maybe, just maybe-
"You know perfectly well who and what I mean, Trill, sir."
The Orakon sighed in defeat, nearly crumpling onto his desk. Yes. Olaos was right. He knew perfectly what and who.
"Just... Just let him in already..." He muttered before straightening up and trying to not look entirely depressed.
It only took a few minutes before he heard the rather loud and obnoxious heel click and foorsteps in the hallway. 'Here we go again...' he thought, and one could've sworn a tear slid down his cheek.
"Trill! How are you?!" Daveson, one of the human's representative, tried to sound cheery. Trill already had his face in his clawed hands. "Please just sit down." He mumbled.
Daveson and his partner (in crime, as far as Trill was concerned), Alma, sat down in front of the huge desk. A few more seconds passed before the commander finally slowly looked up.
"You know the reason for which you're both here today." The pair nodded. "Good. Then let me ask just one question." The two stilled. "Why." Trill looked so truthfully and deeply confused and desperate that Daveson couldn't do much more than give him a quirky grimace trying to pass for a grin.
"Trill, listen-"
"No, you listen. Listen to this." He quickly pulled out the mail which he had scanned on their way to his office. "12 dead, 40 in cryogenic sleep. Daveson, why?"
"It's actually quite a funny story-"
"And it doesn't end there! We all wish it did, of course, but no, no... Daveson, listen to this."
"Trill-"
"40 destroyed structures. Of which 3 were from outer galaxy governments."
"I know it sounds bad-"
"I just want to know... Just.... Daveson, please, please just tell me... Why?"
This time around, Daveson didn't answer. He just stared down at his hands like a scolded child. Trill turned to Alma and gave her a look.
"It has to do with racism, commander.."
"What? I thought you'd abolished race centuries ago?"
"We did too, except there was this hair counting machine..."
"Hair counting machine."
"Yes, and someone found a so said scientific study on the correlation of hair number and race... Depending on if the number of hairs is an even number, odd nunber, multiple of seven, etcetera. A few radical groups took it to heart, sorted themselves out by so called race, found an experimental bomb, and..."
"Would you like to know something, Alma?"
"Y-yes, Commander Trill?"
"It's the 17th time this year you've been here. And between this time and the last three, not a single other species was sent to me for this kind of issues."
"That sure is... Uh..."
"Yes. Exactly as you say." With a bleary look at them, Trill turned on his glasses. "I don't believe you have any... Excuses?" Silence. "Very well then. My job here is done then. You may go."
Alma and Daveson shuffled out much more quietly than they had pranced in. Trill finished typing up a report and sending it down to Olaos.
"Thank you, sir." Said the secretary.
"Do you think they'll ever learn, Olaos?"
Olaos seemed to think for a moment.
"I sure hope so."
"We all do..." | 2017-03-06T02:43:37 | 2017-03-05T22:26:51 | 121 | 46 |
[WP] A pre-battle monologue between two fighters, but rather than the usual "deterministic good guy vs. inevitable evil" banter, a knight/sellsword/soldier angrily explains to his opponent why his giant mega demongunsword of death-murder is not an effective weapon. | Zort the Immortal hefted the weight of his gargantuan weapon onto his shoulder and pondered the pathetic man before him.
A Paladin of the holy something or other, he had called himself. A thousand years of learning every new religion and sect and pathos and government and so on left Zort with little patience for pretty titles. He liked his own, though. IMMORTAL. Just enough gravitas to convey his power, short enough to remember.
The paladin lowered his spear a bit and called out across the plaza, his voice echoing from the shattered walls of the once-great Palace of the Ancients.
"Uh hey"
The Immortal absentmindedly flipped a few toggle switches on his change blade and it whirred into motion, bits rearranged and hummed and spun, glimmering in the light from the fires consuming the city around them.
"Hey yeah, Immortal, uh Mr. Immortal sir I was just wondering if that thing" the paladin gestured with his shield "is that the weapon you used to slay the Saint of Olmstac?"
"Ugh, yes, mortal" Zort spat the words like profanities from his cracked lips.
"Well it just seems like it would be I don't know...cumbersome? You see, my spear here," the paladin continued, idly tracing the spear head in figure eights, "is just a plain elm wood shaft with like a few Elvish inscriptions to make it harder to break and sharper at the tip but THAT..." he trailed off.
After an uncomfortable silence, the immortal swung the weapon, now more roaring saw blade than sword, through the air and into the center of the paving stone at his feet. The weapon's multiple blades spun up fearsomely, shredding the stone into dust and burrowing its head into the earth.
"Fool. No mortal man can wield this saw sword nor any of its other functions. Only those with the blood of the eternal can touch it without immediate death."
"Well yeah that's what I mean. That is a sick enchantment! A sword that causes immediate death to all living things it touches. Simple and effective. But then there's all that spinning mechanical moving parts stuff and, well let me show you."
The paladin dashed forward, spear raised, shaft tucked under his armpit, shield in position. A fortress of a man spirited ahead at unnatural speed, a product of his training and years spent mastering the holy magicks.
Perhaps I have gone overboard, Zort pondered to himself. It started so simple, but an adjustment here, a few gnome blacksmiths and gadgeteers tinkering there...no. I am the Immortal. No man can best me in combat. My weapon is the blade to end all others.
Zort raised the weapon from the ground, mikheil blades still whirling, unscathed from the solid rock it rent asunder.
"COME, THEN, HOLY MAN. PICK A GOD AND PRAY"
Zort swung the weapon, its heft no match for his augmented mechanical body. The blades whistled through the air towards the paladins head.
"YOUR DOOM AWAITS"
The Paladin side stepped the blades but too late! The contraption struck his helmet hard.
But the man yet stood.
And the blades had stopped.
Zort's gaze followed the shaft of his weapon. At the head of the blades where they connected to the gears in the tip of what used to be a mighty great sword was... a glove?
"Yeah see? I just jammed a glove in there. Just like a regular glove. It's not even enchanted it's just like horse leather. They're not even comfortable, honestly." The paladin, with his other still-gloved hand, gently pushed the weapon from his face. "And that enchantment about killing everything it touches apparently doesnt apply unless it touches skin. Which, to be fair, was just a guess on my part. So congrats on taking the life from my helmet."
Zort felt his blood run cold. "you INSOLENT DOG I WILL ki...l i..." blood choked his words from his mouth. He looked down.
"Oh and one final bit before you go. You're just a trash combatant. The Saint of Olmstac was like two hundred years old. You could've killed him with a...damn what is it called?"
The paladin let go of the spear lodged in the Immortal's chest and flipped his visor up, scratching his chin in thought. Zort felt the ground beneath his feet waver. His vision darkened.
"The thing you use to get boots on. You know when they're too stiff? Damn it I hate when this happens." The paladin pulled his spear from the the Immortals chest and Zort collapsed on the ground.
"Whatever, I've gotta go collect your bounty from the Church. My point is that dude was old as dirt and killing him was no real feat. You're old news and way past your prime Zort. Shoulda retired. Rookie mistake."
And so the World Terror, The Thousand Year Scourge, Destroyer of Nations, master of the Black Art, the Immortal Zort uttered his final words.
"Shoe horn"
The weapon laying in the ground beside him beeped and sprung into life at his command and assumed the form of a slender silver shoe horn. | Zolaroid swung his massive behemoth of a weapon toward Ben completely missing his intended target. After a few seconds of delay Ben looking bewildered by the effort Zolaroid had to exert to angle his sword and aimed it toward Ben, then with painfully slow charging time the sword glowed bright red and launched an electrical attack in Ben's general direction which all Ben had to do was trot to the left.
Zolaroid let out a angry groan and painstakingly lift up his sword once again lifting it up before being cut off by Ben.
"Oy man, slow down for a moment will ya?"
"SELLSWORD! You have no honor and will fight anyone for money! I have nothing to say to you, EN GARDE WORM!"
"Can you not... You are going to hurt yourself before you get to me buddy."
As Zolaroid charges at Ben in a single direction with about the speed of a quick pace. The weapon was so massively large that Zolaroid was doing all that he can to keep the sword angled. Again Ben effortlessly dodge Zolaroid's attack and gave him a good whack behind Zolaroid's head. As the sword clashes downward on the empty ground it made a large explosion that left Zolaroid scratched all over due to the debris.
"RRRRRRRWAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR, ILLUSIONIST! YOU TRULY HAVE NO HONOR, FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"
"Okay buddy, let's take a 5 minute breather and just talk for a minute will ya? I could've killed you with that tap if I wanted to."
Zolaroid let out a sigh, knowing he is at his limit and is barely able to lift his weapon begrudgingly agreed.
"Very well, I'll grant you your last words. Speak your mind and asks your questions before you ultimate demise!"
"Your sword."
"What about it?"
"It's impractical."
"No it isn't, it can do both range and melee attack. It's fool-proof!"
"Yea but you are missing your attacks all over the place. Just look at yourself!"
"I was merely baiting you into a false sense of security! Look at the lighting attack I just did! It could have vaporized a dozen men! HUZZAH!"
"Not only did you missed, it took you ages to charge up that attack. Any half-wit could've walk up to you and stick you dead."
"A-Ha! I was waiting for that! If you have done so I could have switched my beloved *Constance* into defensive mode and skewer you to bits with **THIS**!"
After a few quick taps Zolaroid's *Constance* started to hum for a few second and deployed multiple stakes and blade all around Zolaroid almost blocking Zolaroid's entire vision.
"Look man, with the time it took you to tap and deployed that fancy thingy you could've just parried or walk away. It's impractical I'm telling you. You are simply too slow."
"BAHHH! DIE YOU NAYSAYER!"
*Constance* once again starter to hum and glow bright red.
"You are trying to shoot at me aren't you? Look at this, I'm just moving slightly to the left."
*BZZZZZZZZZH*
A red lightning shot out of *Constance* once again completely missing it's mark and leaving a crater on its path.
"Alright buddy, I'm done being the nice guy." Ben quickly rush forward with his *Windwalk* spell, gave Zolaroid a swift kick to the nuts dropping him.
"you dirty bastard, no...... mother forgive me. This day I've failed, oh sweet God of Death give me mercy and take me now. This unbearable pain is too much even for Lord Zolaroid Sir Knight Barron of the Icky field, slayer of bandits, guardians of wheat."
Zolaroid sat up his hand reaching into the sky and started to hum a song.
"Shit buddy, if you are gonna start singing your own death hymn Imma have stick you a few times out of principle. Look, its 30p to cross one way. 50 pence for the return ticket. Just pay and get out of my hair will ya? There already a line behind you."
"Filthy robber, oppressor of the weak, humiliatior of knights!" Zolaroid mumbled as he tried to stifle his tears.
"Look man, it takes money to maintain these roads. Plus I'm not even the owner of this road! I'm just paid to sell tickets. Now do you wanna cross or not?" | 2019-05-06T00:23:34 | 2019-05-06T00:11:51 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] "Genetic Designer Babies" are commonplace, but parents only have so many "stat points" to allocate between your different physical and mental abilities. Your parents dumped all your stat points into one thing. | I've always been the top of my class without ever having to try very hard. I study in much the same way as the rest of my classmates: read through the textbook once and then go take the test. The difference is I remember everything. With the diagrams, the explanations, and my knowledge of how things fit together, systems intuitively fall into place inside my mind. This is my mom's gift to me. Perfect intelligence.
Unfortunately, intelligence isn't everything. I've studied conversational habits enough to know the correct words and phrases to utilize in small-talk. I practice every day with various peers. Even so, even when I execute a conversation perfectly according to typical societal patterns, most of the time I fail to evoke a sense of emotional connection in my partner. I'd like to comfort myself in the fact that many others have low rates of emotional connection through interactions with strangers or distant acquaintances, and my success rate is less than two standard deviations below the norm, but that ignores the main problem of when I actually do succeed. When I feel the social bond start to grow between me and someone else, I get excited. Too excited. I forget to use the right words. I forget to stay on safe topics of conversation like religion and politics, and end up excitedly explaining about the toxicological interaction I found between a certain medication for hypothyroidism and high concentrations of SSRIs which indicates that the particular medication could lower the risk of overdosage-based suicides in patients with the often-comorbid simple depression and hypothyroidism.
Ah, I rambled a bit there. That's how I accidentally scare people away.
I know, intellectually, that I have the potential to do great things. I have 100 points in intelligence and a keen interest in medicine. In better circumstances, I could very well grow up to cure cancer. I can't now. I don't have the charisma to make friends with most people. I don't have the luck to find the few people I can connect with. I don't have the courage to keep fighting the oppressive loneliness that drives me to continuously attempt social interaction despite the 100% failure rate. This is all that I can contribute to medicine. I've calculated the angle of entry for the bullet. I should be braindead but alive with a fully functional spinal cord and intact organs. They're young and healthy. Please give them to people who can make the world a better place on my behalf.
I'm sorry, mom. I love you. | The strange man is sitting across the table, looking at me. I was always told to be a good boy and look people in the eye. So that's what I do. Until something better comes along.
I'm sitting here in this big empty room, just waiting. They watch me, I watch them.
I'm starting to get bored.
My dad would often get mad. Or sad. Sometimes both. I never did understand it. After my mom died my dad sort of, drifted away. He was still there, physically. Did what he had to, but not much else. They say the last step of grief is acceptance. Well I think my dad might have tripped on that one. All he said during my stat ceremony was that he won't let me go through the same thing he did.
”Do you want some crayons?”
I don't know what these people want with me.
”Tell me about your favourite toy.”
I'm thinking about my dad. He really did his best. Not that it matters anymore. Sometimes I wonder how he saw this going. I guess even the best intentions can miss the goal. At least I won't miss him.
”Do you have any friends at school?”
My dad always told me that you shake a mans hand when you enter his house.
To bad he started to decompose after only four days. It made shaking his hand hard, even more so than him hangning from the ceiling fan.
”I do have some friends at school. They call me Apathetic Adam, I think it's because of my stats.” | 2016-12-13T15:48:39 | 2016-12-13T14:05:56 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] The year is 2019. An unidentified radar contact appears over the English Channel, bound for an RAF base. It ignores all calls from Air Traffic Control. RAF fighters are vectored to intercept. The contact: a WWII B-24. Part of its wing is missing, and along its fuselage: long, jagged claw marks. | 10 minutes ago Hawk was lounging around at the base with nothing much to do. Now he and his co-pilot Twitch were in a Typhoon at 10,000 feet and cruising just under Mach 1 towards the unidentified contact.
Unidentified radar contacts were not an unusual occurrence and usually ended up being a weather balloon, a large flock of birds or even the occasional lost light aircraft. But it was headed straight for the airbase and protocole called for a visual confirmation.
"Base to Hawk, unidentified bogie 20 miles out, unresponsive to hails. Caution storm front approaching, over."
"Hawk to Base, understood. Around 30 seconds to visual, over"
"Roger that Hawk, Base out"
Hawk look out through the canopy, eyes scanning the horizon. Just on the edge of the storm front, Hawk could see a small dark silhouette highlighted by the occasional lighting flash from behind.
"Are you seeing that?" Hawk asked his co-pilot.
"Yes, and I see it on our radar. I'm clocking it at around 300 miles an hour" Twitch replied from behind.
As the fighter closed in to intercept, a few details became clearer. Painted a dark brown, it had a large wingspan, 4 props and smoke billowing from the rear. One of the props wasn't spinning, and the paint job had lines running from the wings to the tail. A slight feeling of unease passed through Hawk.
"I think that's a B-24 bomber" muttered Twitch. "There an airshow on soon?"
"Not that I know of." Curious why the plane wasn't responding to hails from base, Hawk keyed his radio and tried himself.
"This is a British Royal Air Force fighter jet, you are approaching restricted air space. Please identify yourself and correct course, over"
Silence filled the radio. Hawk tried twice more but was met with more silence.
Now closer, the outline of the other aircraft was unmistakably one of a WWII bomber, part of its wing was missing and those paint lines now looked more like gashes down the side of the plane. Deep, long gashes out of which the smoke was escaping from. It was a miracle the thing was still airborne. Now much closer, it was still fast approaching.
Still, there were other details. Metal spikes mounted on the top and side of the fuselage that looked like Tesla coils and long antenna arrays attached to the front and bottom of the craft. Electricity crackled between the metal spikes in bright flashes. It looked like a Frankenstein of a plane. The B24 shot past as Hawk banked the fighter to obtain an escort position around the plane.
While Twitch stared in disbelief, Hawk radioed base.
"Hawk, Base. We have made visual and identified it as a WWII era bomber. It has extensive damage to it's structure and it looks there may be a fire on board. Over."
"Base, Haw... .her.... ay..."
"You are breaking up base. Can you read me? Over"
".... econd... ...bogie.. ...r..d......"
The radio was flooded with the sound of static.
"Piece of junk" Hawk muttered as he lightly kicked the console.
"Probably has to do with all of that" Twitch said, gesturing to the electrical arcs surrounding the bomber.
As Hawk pulled his fighter into an escort postition along and above the bomber, Twitch continued: "Even the radar's been acting up since we got near it too. Keeps picking up another contact just behind us"
Hawk turned his head and looked out the rear of the canopy to see nothing but the dark swirling clouds of the storm closing in behind them.
As he turned back to face the front, something in the B24 caught his eye. A man dressed in old flight leathers, who Hawk assumed was part of the bomber's crew, was wildly waving his arms through the cockpit and pointing behind at the dark clouds. Checking once again, Hawk turned to look at the storm behind and his blood ran cold. A second later and he would have missed it. But he didn't. Right there in the middle of the dark clouds, a giant yellow eye blinked open. | The phone rings at RAF Heyford tower control. “It’s a civilian air traffic controller sir.” The room is quiet with curiosity. “What is their issue?” Asks the commanding officer with an irritated tone. “Unidentified air craft not responding to radio contact.” Replied the airman with a slight concern on his face. “Locate the craft on radar, initiate radio contact and standby.” The commanding officer has now gone from irritated to down right mad. “Located on radar sir, eighty miles out and still no response on coms.” The small control room was starting to get tense as a palpable anxiety had suddenly set in. “Scramble the F1-11’s!!” Shouted the commanding officer. “Sir, you know that’s a one way trip. The pilots cannot return to this base as per the terms set in place during the Cold War.” The commanding officer looked at the airman with a most serious look. “We are sending those jets and will deal with the consequences later.” “Yes sir.” Replies the airman quietly. As the F1-11’s took off toward the craft the control tower continued to make radio calls. All attempts to communicate met with silence. “It’s not moving very fast.” Said the airman in the control tower. “It couldn’t be a jet. Maybe it’s just a small passenger plane.” The commanding officer looks at the airman again, and very calmly explains. “This is an unidentified air craft, with zero communication heading toward a military instillation. We do not take that lightly” the airman nodded And looked back down at the radar display. “
“Tower this is phantom 1. Your not going to believe this!”
“Go ahead phantom 1. This is tower control, what do you see?” “Tower I don’t understand, this shouldn’t be here.” “Phantom 1 report your visual.” “Tower I’m looking at a Second World War era B-24.” The commanding officer in the tower appears to be slightly relieved. “Probably a hobbyist just playing with his restored plane.” He muttered. As he turned away from the radar display as if to walk out of the room the pilot came came back over the coms. “Tower this is phantom 1, the B-24 is heavily damaged.” “It is missing part of its starboard wing and its port fuselage has what appears to be.... giant claw marks. Could trees do that?” “Tower?” There was a pause in communication as at that time a man entered the control tower. He said nothing, looked at no one, and merely dropped off a dusty file and an old leather bound book. Still without words or acknowledgement of any kind he left as suddenly as he appeared. “Who was that? How did he get into my tower? Why aren’t you chasing him?” Yelled the commanding officer. The airman just sat with a stunned and confused look. “Sir, there is a title on the file.” The commanding officer quickly looked over at the title. “Norwegian mountain troll? What the hell is this?” The commander now red with anger. “Tower this is phantom 1. We are ten miles out and the plane is beginning it’s landing sequence.” Phantom 1 this is tower, do not let that plane land.” “Tower am I supposed to shoot it down?” “No phantom 1, keep it in the air.” | 2019-12-01T09:08:36 | 2019-12-01T08:37:01 | 53 | 10 |
[WP] The United States has suddenly gone dark. No noise or activity out of there for a week, not even a Reddit post. You are part of an SAS squad sent to investigate. | The Aircraft lurched and hopped roughly as it set down on the runway at Jean Lesage international airport. Outside the late season blizzard howled and blustered in its last attempt to snatch the plane from the air. On board Col. Mcentire looked over the cargo bay stuffed with their expeditionary vehicles supplies, and lined with seats full of his best men.
Two runways had already been shut down not for the frigid conditions but to hold a refugee camp. Huge numbers of international travelers had been stranded here both American and otherwise. When the blackout had occurred a week ago all planes in US Airspace had been forced to redirect or land without guidance somewhere in the dark zone.
That was why they were here. To investigate the blackout. It had only been a week and the world had already been halfway to hell as it was. Now stranded US forces abroad had begun abandoning their posts to try and make their way home or submit to regional alliances like NATO for guidance. It was a field day for traditional rivals of the USA. Iran had launched an all out invasion of Saudi Arabia. The Chinese were attempting to re-annex Taiwan but had their hands full with reigning in North Korea's incursions into China and South Korea alike. Russia was throwing its weight around like a bear coming out of hibernation.
The Crown and Prime Minister's office had sanctioned an immediate exploratory effort. All the birds and boats that had approached the USA directly had also gone dark. There were rumors of refugees making it across the borders but nothing concrete. Nothing believable anyway. Thus Mcentire and his special team had been selected to try a land crossing themselves. It would be a daunting task to cross the Wall. the USA had completely militarized its borders but there were still some gaps on the northern side with Canada.
Finally the plane ground to a halt in a private hanger and the engines began winding down. "Move Out" he ordered and the troops wasted no time disembarking. there would be no wind up, the last briefing had been given right before landing. The orders had been to consider all moments after landing to be on the mission clock.
Within minutes the APCs and crates were down the ramp and loaded. A uniformed Major approached them from the Airport team and wordlessly handed him a clipboard. two signatures and they would tend the transport jet in their absence. Officially none of this was happening and none of Mcentire's team or assets existed here. Before anybody could turn any suspicious eyes they departed.
The streets were largely empty and not just because of the storm. Martial law had been declared so moving openly while heavily armed would only draw minimal attention. To this effect the very British vehicles and team bore the local Canadian markings. Nobody seemed to notice and the back gate off the tarmac let them pass without incident. There was a checkpoint at the st Lawrence river but their papers were valid.
As soon as they were out of the city they went off road. There was a known break in the border security some 50 miles away. In theory they could have attempted to use the roads and regular border crossing. Yet they did not know what to expect on the other side and reports indicated that no traffic pas passing there. To be sure some people had tried to enter. The Canadians certainly had, but like everybody else they went silent not long after entering.
The drive was two hours and the snow drifts didn't help but finally they reached the gully where the fence parted and crossed over into the unknown | Within the clouds there was no noise, only the constant whir of the chopper blades pulsing above the men and I. I shifted my legs so that they crossed each other and looked out the sliding door. Water hissed as the blades passed through the damp air. It was eerie. Usually, my men where being the assholes they were and giving each other shit; but not today.
Today, the were solemn and silent. Earlier, we had tried to make some jokes, but no dice. Here we sat in the unnatural quiet that comes with flying in the clouds.
"3 minutes 'till touch down"
I sucked air in, inflating my chest and exhaled slowly. I moved about rhythmically. One gloved hand gripped at my rifle loosely and the other thumbed gently at the holster for my pistol. We didn't know what to expect. What was going on? my team and I had only been briefed that it had gone completely dark here. No posts, no calls, hell the President hadn't even contacted us. the U.N, naturally was concerned. More so because the U.S provided most of our oil rather than actually being concerned for her citizens.
"Descending. Hook up and get out."
My stomach dropped as the bird dipped down. It wasn't just clouds, the fog was everywhere. I almost didn't see the marker for drop off. I landed hard, the impact going up through my ankles.
Six other thumps followed me. "Hey, Fox!" I turned my head and peered at my masked team member and nodded.
"Do you hear that?"
I closed my eyes and frowned. I focused on nothing. There was a noise floating through the air. It was low and growing. A cold wind suddenly started ripping past us, taking the mist with it as it went. I watched, captivated. It furled and unfurled. Twined and twisted through the air. My team and I watched until it was all gone.
Shark was the first to scream.
"Holy shit!"
Below us it was all red. Crimson with gore. The sound was clear now. It cut through the air now that the mist was gone. Moaning.
I looked out and stared in horror. There were thousands of mutilated people shuffling in the streets covered in guts. Some were even, I retched, eating eachother.
America had become the ground zero for a zombie Apocalypse.
Behind us, the chopper grew louder. They must have seen what we did and they were coming back to pick us up.... thank God.... Well, if there even is a God anymore. | 2017-03-07T12:22:54 | 2017-03-07T11:17:45 | 61 | 33 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I have to say, that this isn't so bad.
Yeah, it's a bit cramped, and the lighting's is too dim, but I'm a fan of the rustic life.
Of course, I preferred living in my Dad's mansion, making all my money off of my job at his firm, but that's all gone now, and all I have is this dingy apartment.
It took some doing too. The lady who lived here first didn't want to sell to me at the price I wanted, she took some persuading, but in the end she agreed.
Now I settle into bed-- it's much stiffer then I'm used too, and there's no servant to bring me a bedtime chocolate, but the walls have some sort of ugly charm. This is my home now, and that's okay.
It's a little cold, so I go into my closet, and pick out something to wear to bed. I go with my newest outfit.
Good choice. It's warm and sporty, even if there's no one there to see it. That lady had excellent taste. Her skin is soft and fits well over me. I can still smell her perfume over the metallic scent of blood.
Charming. Absolutely charming. | I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife. | 2017-05-31T02:40:54 | 2017-05-31T01:46:56 | 548 | 109 |
[WP] A genie gives you two options. One is to get your three wishes now, or to get one wish a day for five days. He tells you that no one before has survived and gotten all five wishes. You choose the latter. | I only rubbed the lamp as a joke. It was *just a stupid fucking joke* between my friends and I as we were bored standing around the antique shop where we worked. It was a hole in the wall joint in a bad part of town so we were lucky if we saw three actual customers a day. With that spirit crushing reality, of course we had to find ways to keep ourselves amused. Whenever the boss was out we’d start tossing faberge eggs back and forth, or pretend to ride on the carved elephant, or pose with the ancient statues to simulate all manner of ‘crude acts’ and snap some hilarious photos that were sure to get massive amounts of likes, and hearts, and upvotes from the wider world. This day was no different, right up until it was.
“Hey guys! I own the magical genie lamp now, how much will you pay me for one of my wishes?” I asked, grinning while holding the lamp dramatically above my head.
“Like three bucks, with your luck it’ll be the world’s shittiest genie,” one of my best friends teased me.
“Look at that rusty old thing. You’re more likely to get tetanus than a couple of genie wishes Becca!” another said, laughing at me.
I began speaking in an over the top melodramatic voice, “Oh mighty genie of the lamp, I summon thee from thine prison to serve me and grant my wishes, including but not limited to those $200 boots I want!” I furthered the joke by dramatically rubbing the lamp between both my hands like I was trying to start a fire.
It wasn’t a fire I summoned, but there sure was plenty of smoke. I was extremely startled as it billowed out of the lamp and began swirling around the room. It was smoke of every color imaginable all at once and it moved in unnerving and unnatural patterns. Finally it formed into a massive figure, three times the size of any of us. The genie I had sarcastically requested had arrived. Sadly he didn’t look half as friendly as Will Smith or Robin Williams. His expression was stern, bordering on angry.
“Rebecca Elizabeth Watson, by the laws of the ancient pact between gods and man. I am now bound to you,” he wasn’t shouting, but somehow his voice was still earthshaking. It was as if a thunderstorm was speaking to me.
By now my friends had run out of the shop screaming. I can’t say I blame them, knowing me as well as they did I’m sure they thought I was running right behind them, but I simply couldn’t. I’d say I was transfixed by the majesty of the magic unfolding before me, but in honesty I made every effort to flee, but my feet felt absolutely bolted to the floor, unable to move an inch.
“I didn’t… this wasn’t my… I didn’t mean to do this…” I stammered.
“The ritual is complete. Our souls are intertwined until the conclusion of our pact, however you do have one choice in this matter. You may choose to have one wish, which will be granted immediately, at which point I will return to my lamp and exit your life forever. Or you may have one wish per day for five days, for a total of five wishes. Consider carefully as I offer you this warning... several before you have died before having the chance to use all five of their wishes. If you should perish in those five days, I will be freed from our contract and your remaining wishes will not be fulfilled.”
“No refunds huh?” I attempted to joke with him. He did not seem amused, so I pondered my choice. I was 19 years old, I felt fairly invincible and didn’t see much chance of me dropping dead in the next week. And I was just selfish enough that dozens of potential wishes flashed through my mind. “Okay, I… I mean five wishes sounds great, I’m in no hurry.”
The genie finally cracked a small smile. “My last dozen masters all chose a single immediate wish. Thank you for choosing the latter… It’s been so long since I’ve had a hunt,” he said as his hands began to crackle with ominous bolts of electricity.
“WHAT?” I yelped in fear.
“If you should perish before the five days are up, I will be freed from our contract,” he repeated. “And I very much wish to be freed…”
“I change my mind! One wish, one wish is more than enough!”
“Our path is set young one, our conflict inevitable, but the outcome is not. I am bound by rules of fairness,” he said. “Whenever you ask for your daily wish, we shall have a one hour truce. Other than that... the most I can offer you is a brief head start.”
With that my body finally unfroze without warning and I collapsed to the ground unceremoniously. More negotiating with this supernatural being seemed fruitless, so I did the only thing I could think to do... I stumbled to my feet and ran out of the store as quickly as my still somewhat numb feet could carry me. I’d competed in long distance track in high school and that was going to come in handy now, because I didn’t plan to stop running for a good long while. Maybe I wouldn’t stop running for five entire days if that was humanly possible.
*I had only rubbed the lamp as a joke*, I thought sadly to myself as I sprinted down the street. *It was just a stupid fucking joke.*
___
Check out r/Ryter if you want to explore more words that originate in my silly brain. | "Definitely a wish a day," I asserted confidently. The genie looked at me surprised, his warnings having been ignored. Picture me, this modern day Aladdin, beanie instead of turban, a little bit whiter around the edges but basically the same in the end. He rubbed a lamp, I rubbed a bong and just like that there's a genie chilling out in the family room. To be honest, it took me a minute to realize it was for real. I tried to touch the dude and my hand went right through and that definitely didn't help. It was only when he started making tangible things out of thin air that I actually believed it.
"For five days," he clarified, ever cautious as to the ambiguities of these verbal contracts. I nodded. Five days, five wishes. Or I could take the other option that he was pressing me towards: three wishes, right here, right now. "Are you sure?" He was really pressing me towards using all my wishes right now. Probably working on commission or something and the more people he can get wishing, the better. I nodded, commission be damned. I wanted five days of wishes, one wish a day. "You did hear the part that nobody has ever survived and gotten all five wishes, right?" I nodded. Zero percent survival rate was what he had said before, to be exact. I'm really not one for statistics though. I've read the articles. Numbers can be manipulated and twisted and you get whatever statistic you want out of them. I wasn't falling for that one. He'd be working for me for five wishes over five days, no questions asked. Plus, quantity over quality. That's what they teach you when you're churning out those burgers. His muscular, pellucid shoulders shrugged. Seemed like there was plenty of time to hit the weights while he chilled out in genie world as he waited for some clever pothead to rub the bong and beckon him to the earthly realm. He was insistent it wasn't like prison but he definitely looked like he did those prison workouts. "Alright, that's that then," he said. I put the magical pen to the magical paper that he had created and that was indeed that. "Your first wish?" he requested and I inhaled from the now magic-less bong and sat back in the couch. The genie stared at me impatiently and I wondered if he was working multiple customers at once.
"I'm thinking," I insisted and he glowered at me silently. I'm not quite sure how this master-genie relationship works but somebody less chill would have definitely been demanding some respect. "I want 5 pounds... No, wait," I hesitated, re-thinking my wish before committing to it. "5 tons. I want 5 tons of weed in the garage, stat," I ordered. The genie looked at me skeptically. "No questions asked, buddy," I snarked and he shrugged again.
"You'll need to word it more officially," he said. "It was in the contract." I rolled my eyes. So much fine print, if I actually read through every contract I signed I would, it would take centuries. This dude had centuries but to the best of my knowledge, I did not. I would also be in way less debt and way more successful, but hey - I would also have fewer wishes. Silver lining and all that crap, you know? "You need to start with I wish," he instructed and I sighed. Of course I had to jump through hoops just to get my damned wishes.
"I wish for five tons of weed in the garage," I said sarcastically, making sure to enunciate the official vocabulary he demanded. The genie looked at me dolefully, as if he was about to put his dog down or something. I don't know if genies even have pets or if they are pets. Can pets have pets? "Are you my pet?" I wondered out loud. He ignored me.
"Done," he remarked simply before disappearing back into the bong. I glanced around in confusion, unsure if this was all in my head or legit. I thought genies were from Arabia or something but this dude had just Irish goodbyed me like his name was O'Shaughnessy. Reluctantly, and fighting off the urge to keep sitting on the couch but way too curious to not check, I pulled myself to the feet and made my way to the garage.
"Oh, shit," I said quietly when I opened the door. "So that's what five tons of weed looks like..."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-06-04T11:28:14 | 2019-06-04T08:12:27 | 200 | 68 |
[WP] "No one has ever been this close to a human before," the alien whispers to his camera drone. "My hearts are pounding. This is actually extremely dangerous. Humans in larger colonies are skittish, but out here, they're bold and territorial. That stick he's pointing at me could blow my head off." | **Translated painstakingly to Galactic Boggstandard and close-captioned for your feeble comprehension. This dataspurt made possible by financial contributions to the Supreme Galactic Magistracy Broadcasting Network from subjugated vassals like you. Hail to our glorious Suzerain Consul.**
"The galaxy's most dangerous life forms. Nobody knows them like Zelchon Qornivac. He's been working with them since pupation, out on untamed worlds, capturing them and relocating them to preservatory arcologies. And on a particularly remote and untamed mudball in this starcluster, we've got some of the most savage semisentient creatures known to modern explorators, the human being."
"Thanks, X37. It's true, some of my fondest memories are of scouting out remote worlds and observing the galaxy's most beautiful, exotic forms of life, but this is the closest I've ever been to a human being. Humans tend to stick to densely populated areas, where they make some remarkably complex burrows for beings of their limited intelligence, nearly as sophisticated as the Arcturian Braincrab. But every so often, you see one of them living in relative solitude like this. There he is! Pretty sure that's a male. Uh, oh. See that stick in his 'ands, there? That's typical of the crudely improvised weapons these creatures use in place of actual defensive mechanisms. If he gets spooked, he's liable to try an' blow one off one a' my sensory ganglia. Gonna have to try an' approach him cautiously, here. No sudden moves, now. Now, your basic human, he doesn't have much contact with more intelligent life, and unfortunately this world's a prime spot for poachers, who come to mutilate livestock for a lark. So there's a good chance this fella might not be kindly disposed to us... gonna see if I can calm him down by offering him some pandarf... those noises might be a hopeful sign- NOPE!"
*sounds of explosive projectile fire*
"Nah, nah, doesn't look like he's being very friendly. I must've spooked him somehow. Now let's be sure he won't hurt himself..."
*sounds of a stasis grenade hitting the human*
"Theeeere we are. Got him nice and wrapped up. Won't be any trouble now."
"And what's going to happen to the specimen now, Zelch?"
"Well, we're gonna get him on board, taking every precaution to ensure his safety and comfort, he's gonna be taken to some Preservatorium on the Crown Cluster until we can get an adequate genetic sample of the species. Might even enjoy himself. This part of the planet, around now, it's hurricane season, so we're sparing him that. And there's a chance this research will help us reconstitute the species in the event it goes extinct, which should be in a couple dozen solar revolutions or so. But he should be fit to be released back into the wild in a few zatluus, and shorter for him because of the relativistic dilation."
"Well, there you have it, folks. Another honest day's work in the interest of wildlife preservation, and the adventure goes on. And now a message from our sponsors."
\*\*\*
"And in lighter news, a Florida man has made local headlines by claiming to have experienced an alien abduction. Details at eleven." | “As you could see, you can clearly observe the human pointing that stick at my head. That thing could very easily blow my head off.” The reporter gestured towards the human, indicating the camera to do a zoom in.
“I said, get off my lawn! Get off my lawn or I’ll blow your head off!”
The reporter kept his gaze locked on the human. “Now, these creatures here are normally quite skittish,” he turned to stare at the camera, “but alone is where we see the true colours of this subspecies of human.”
The human continued to spill empty threats back towards the filmers.
“Out here, we can finally see their other side. Now I must be rather careful as it seems we’ve angered the beast within.” The alien inched closer, careful not to startle the human. “In this situation, we are finally granted access to see their bold and territorial side.”
“Get off my lawn! How many times do I need to tell you government freaks to get away from my lawn. I don’t know what the big guys are making, but you escapees aren’t coming anywhere closer! If you don’t leave I’ll shoot!” A single click echoed through the air, indicating the gun had been loaded. “I’ll count to three! If you don’t leave by then, I’ll shoot! One!”
The reporter cut in, “Normally, we are told to refrain from interaction, but I must ask, what are these government freaks you mentioned?”
Strained chuckles flowed out from the human, “Well it’s you guys of course. We all know what the government cooks up in Area 51. I’d be dammed if you guys came from some other world.”
“Interesting, interesting,”
“I don’t know what you freaks have planned, but know that I’m not going down without a fight.” The human aimed the stick at the camera, informing audiences that he wasn’t messing about.” He held it there, before lowering the weapon and storming off, slamming the door to his home behind me.
“Well, it seems that we concluded our special on the notorious subspecies known as the conspiracy theorist. May all the viewers back home have a good day. Singing off!” With that, the reporter joined the cameramen in leaving the scene.
“Alright then, guess that’s a wrap for today.” A cameraman called out.
“Actually, I think there’s somewhere else we should go.” The rest of the crew turned to their colleague, eager to hear his idea. “Bring up this Area 51 place, I think I got an idea for a new segment.”
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-09-29T16:21:34 | 2020-09-29T14:24:50 | 3,047 | 332 |
[WP] Civilization evolved on Mars parallel to humanity with similar technology. Thanks to the radio we've spent most of the twentieth century sending messages back and forth, learning about each other like interplanetary pen pals. It is 2030 and both civilizations have agreed to meet.
Edit: I've been thinking, feel free to ignore the year specified. I imagine if we knew we had neighbors in the solar system we would try to meet them a lot quicker. | The two sat in silence. On the table before them were red foods from the blue planets and blue foods from the red. It hadn't been coordinated: the two leaders had wanted to play a small joke on the other, and had come up with the same joke.
When the aides had left, and the leaders had taken their seats, they had found that they couldn't think of anything causal to speak about.
"So," The delegate from Mars finally spoke up. "You're looking well, Jane." The Martian's body stiffened suddenly. "Forgive me, Madam Secretary-General."
"Oh no, please your majesty, just Jane. No need for you to stand on ceremony when it's just us."
He relaxed his body and the blank featureless "face" shifted from black to bright red; the martian version of a smile. "Well then I insist you call me by name as well. I'll not be the only one in the room being referred to by title."
The corners of the opening on the earthlings lumpy "face" speared outward and up; the human version of red-shift. "Very well, Flah'x." Then, her face DID red-shift, something the Martian King didn't know happened among humans. "It's nice to finally meet you after all these years. I don't suppose you have ever told anyone..."
"Oh, absolutely not." Flah'x's voice became deeper as he began to speak quieter, the vibration chamber in his chest contracting. "Though a few conspiracy theorists have guessed the truth."
"Same on Earth. Ironic that the only people who can figure out what's really going on are total crack-pots."
The two chuckled, an inexplicably similar sound that had evolved on both planets. A smirk began to play on her face as she gently bit her lip, and blue began to creep into his face. The Martian King reached across the table and took the UN leaders hand in his.
"Can you believe we actually did it? I have been dreaming about this moment since I was a sprout. And now we are finally here, together."
"I can hardly believe it myself. My goodness, the things I have done to get in a position where I could order this meeting..." Her face fell slightly. "But then, you live in a monarchy. I can't imagine keeping the position has been easy on you either."
"No, it certainly hasn't. But," Flah'x pulled Jane closer to himself. "Let's not worry about that now.
As the two alien faces began to come together, each of their bodies became ready according to their own biology. The Martian's body began to phase, and the bonds between the atoms weakening, allowing him to enter her entire body with his own. As she exhaled in vibration and penetration of her entire body, he exhaled in the wetness of her mouth, blood and arousal.
The two remained as one for what seemed like days. Cries of passion reverberated off the soundproof walls of the conference room, a symphony of pleasure heard by no one outside. When finally both were exhausted by the rapid succession of mutual climax, they fell to the floor and lay beside one another, she to catch her breath, and he to take in light.
The Secretary-General gasped, "My god. That was like..."
"That was like a religious experience." The Martian King finished. "I mean, the research made it clear that our two species could make but I had no idea it was supposed to be so... good."
"Ha, I bet all the humans involved in the study kept how quiet so that could have all the Martian sex for themselves."
"Now who's the conspiracy theorist?" Flah'x though a moment. "Actually it wouldn't surprise me if the Martians did the same."
Jane pulled Flah'x into her arms this time. Though his body was technically room temperature, he felt cool against her flushed skin. "So... What happens now?" | "Soon before long, Mars will cross with Earth."
Commander Galt had a face full of expectations. His Pilot, Miyazaki Fuuko, decided to not question the grammatical syntax and meaning of what he had just muttered.
"Maybe we should stop muttering cryptic sentences and get on the PA.", said Pilot Fuuko.
Commander Galt flipped the PA switch.
"This is your commander speaking, in T minus five minutes, MXE flight 0001 will begin docking with the Mars Space Station. Please remain seated and strapped to your ejection pods in case of unforeseen circumstances. The temperature and air pressure on the MSS will be the same as what you are experiencing on MXE0001."
Commander Galt flipped the switch again and went on to more pressing matters.
"Switch ATTS to Rendezvous, set relative to 3, engage docking controls."
"Yes, sir. ATTS, Rendezvous mode, relative velocity at 3m/s, docking interface engaged."
As Commander Galt took controls, the ship rotates and slowly translates towards the docking ports of the MSS with grace.
"We're in range. Radio 'em."
Pilot Fuuko flipped a switch.
"MSS Control, this is MXE0001, do you copy?"
"This is MSSC, we copy. We see you on the cams, arm dockers in range in 1 minute"
"MXE0001, roger that."
Pilot Fuuko flips the switch again.
"Well, this is a momentous occasion. For 70 years we've been apart, never physically meeting them.", quipped Commander Galt.
"You don't sound that interested."
"I'm not. I don't give a damn."
"One hell of a thing for you to say now that we're here. Don't you have a friend on Mars?"
"Yeah, I do. Not that we're in a hurry to meet."
"In range in T minus 10 seconds."
Pilot Fuuko flipped the switch.
"MXE0001, in range. Engage the arms."
"MSSC, Roger that."
A mechanical arm folds out and attaches to MXE0001.
"MXE0001, attachment confirmed, all lights are green, go ahead."
"MSSC, copy that. Going ahead."
The arm pulls MXE0001 towards the docking port.
"MSSC, countdown. 4."
"MXE0001, countdown. 3."
"2."
"1."
"And we have confirmed docking of MXE0001 with MSSC, crossing the paths of Earth and Mars together."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have confirmed a successful dock. We will perform disembarkation in a few moments. Please follow the instructions of the crew who will be with you shortly."
Commander Galt and Pilot Fuuko had looks of indifference on their faces.
"Well, that's that done with."
"Wonder what's next."
"Meet with a bunch of politicians and scientists, of course."
"Well, suddenly I wish I was back home playing around with the simulator."
"Me too, Galt. Me too." | 2015-05-29T10:05:56 | 2015-05-29T08:28:27 | 191 | 31 |
[WP] Aliens prefer term "prey animals", Humans prefer term "herbivores". A group of alien hunters, hunting on Earth, painfully discovered why. | On their home planet, the first simple beings came from the oceans: the vast swirling currents carrying billions of cells gave way to more complex agglomerations, moving near the water's surface, absorbing the nourishment of two suns. These photosynthetic creatures eventually colonized the tide pools and the rocky beaches beyond; thus, the genesis of landed life. They moved like Earth's slime mold, and began to consume one another alive for additional nutrients.
Over billions of years, they developed into perfect creatures. They were capable of voluntary movement, and they manipulated their environment. They had efficient nervous systems capable of high intelligence, yet low energy consumption; they ran mainly on the sacred light of the two suns, but their light absorption was punctuated and supplemented by the consumption of the plant-fauna that roamed the planet. Hunting was a holy occasion, an ode to the impetus for the complexity of life in their biosphere. It was primal, a far cry from the advanced technology and vast forest-like cities they had molded from the fruits of the ground.
For the highest stratum of society, it was something worthy of great expeditions: a planet was selected, and if deemed suitable, a hunting party boarded a starship and bent spacetime to reach it, pierce its atmosphere, and partake of its plant-fauna.
When Earth was selected, it seemed a perfect mark. It had the same vast, swirling oceans. Its land was covered in greenery, the ground was fertile, the sun was bright, and the clouds were plentiful. The hunting party prayed together as the ship tore the fabric of space; they paid tribute to their prey.
They did not expect the life they found. They had strayed too far from their ship. They watched as tall, hairy beasts, much faster and larger than they, stripped the trees of leaves and grazed on the native grasses. These, truly, were majestic predators, capable of taking plants with ease.
They were eaten and shat out by a moose. The End. | (The following is translated from glorpinax to English for your convenience)
"What kind of sister-loving bum-fuckery is this Clarence?!?!" Earl asked, still trying to shake off the loss of his cousins Tucker and Maurice who moments ago were trampled and mauled by one and a half tonnes of toothy angry mammal. "These carbines ain't doing shit, perfectly capable rend flesh from bone on a dozen sentients our size in no time... But with these beasties our rounds bounce off their hides!?! What business does Prey have being so damn big, so damn fast, can swim and run, and aggression only equivalent to ye sister after I said I'm going hunting instead of on date tonight?".
Earl looked over to Clarence who was only half paying attention to his rant. Clarence was repositioning his red "Make Glorpinor IV great again" hat clearly mulling something over. Whatever he was thinking Earl knew it was going to be good. Clarence was the genius of the family after all.
Clarence turned to Earl grinning his toothless grin "Alright, hold my beer".... | 2022-08-16T14:23:30 | 2022-08-16T13:47:52 | 543 | 264 |
[WP] Humans have this idea that they are feared throughout the galaxy because they are willing to use any half baked, harebrained, or otherwise impossible plan to win a war. This amuses the rest of the galaxy to no end, so they play along just to see what humans think will work this time. | The laughter in the war-room had ceased long before the fourth messenger delivered his dire tidings.
"I told you we should have crushed them when we had the chance!" yelled General Kraton, second in command of the Gorluppian fleet. Insubordination was a capital offence any other day, but Commander Juju had other things on his minds.
"I don't understand, our simulations were perfect!" Commander Juju said, tentacles white as he gripped the sides of the table. Scattered reports lay among the holograms dancing in the air. The massed Gorluppian forces, once dwarfing the humans a hundred to one, were now slowly disintegrating under the unstoppable human onslaught.
"Sir," said the messenger, wringing his tentacles nervously. "Another report from the front, Sector X2 this time Sir."
"What is it now?" snapped Commander Juju. None of the other officers at the table had any spirit left to respond. "And it had better not be that our soldiers are dying again just because the humans sneezed in their faces! It's a strict court martial now if anyone forgets to take their shots!"
The messenger keyed the docking sequence on the hologram transmitter, and his missive came to life.
"Sir, those giant statues we thought were just religious symbols? Turns out that they are all highly mobile, extremely destructive exoskeletons for the humans. They pilot them, Sir, from the inside..."
"Well then cut off their power supplies!" screamed Commander Juju. "Find out which part of the exoskeletons are powering the suits, then destroy them!"
"We tried sir, but Army intel, they're telling us that... The humans are the ones powering the suits. With the strength of their hearts..."
"That doesn't even make sense!"
"It gets worse, Sir. We thought we could overpower them, but when five of these exoskeletons get together...
The holograms said it all. A slow-motion replay showed five exoskeletons, joining together after a little dance, morphing into an even more indomitable force. Commander Juju could not think of which law of physics had *not* been broken.
"I warned you, didn't I? I said the humans were ridiculously tenacious, that there was no way we could predict the impossible ways they could overcome the odds?"
"Kraton, for the last time, we're Gorluppians! We conquer through force! I'd sooner die than overcome the humans through some boring trade or cultural war!"
"You'll have your wish soon enough then," sniffed General Kraton. "I hear Sector Z1 is falling too."
"That's where our most coordinated assault ships are concentrated!"
"It doesn't matter, right, when all the human resistance is being controlled by a single mind? Our spies tell us that the mastermind is a single boy, sitting safely on earth, playing what he thinks is a mere simulation!"
The desperation was beginning to pour off Commander Juju in waves. "What about the last prong of our attack? X3 is infallible!"
"It was... Until our forces were done in from within. We were infiltrated."
"Infiltrated?"
"Seems that some of the humans got hold of our temporal technology. They have been sending an endless stream of robot assassins back into our past, and to be honest, it's been really shit for morale."
Commander Juju slumped back in his chair, tilted his head back.
Maybe he really have listened, after all.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| Bathed in the dim glow of the hologram illuminating the otherwise lightless surveillance post, the scaled creature uttered what might have been akin to a laugh. The rumors had made the rounds throughout the nests earlier in the previous weeks, but he had to see it himself.
"That's not possible," the commander began, barely able to keep a straight face-- or whatever passed for straight within their species. "You are jesting, yes? I'll have your tail on the Capitol arch by the next day."
The lieutenant, shrouded in the darkness, struggled to get a breath out from between rounds of convulsing laughter. "This footage was recorded by a... Rix scout formation en route to the established position behind human lines. Authenticity has been confirmed by delegates from all seven subordinate species, Hegemon."
Floating above the metal-bound energy core, the ghostly blue-hued recording of a line of armored human soldiers enacting a series of jumps, screams, frantic waves, and some sort of ritual involving the back end of a soldier and a stun grenade belt continued to progress. The phantoms, a stark contrast to the blackness of the viewing chamber, made several more thrusts from the hip before picking up their pulse rifles, charging several meters forward, and repeating the sequence.
"The Dzani spotters were the first to figure it out. A human bent over backwards while reaching for a smoke grenade under sniper fire, and a particularly devious member of the pint-sized troublemakers signalled for his detachment to cease fire that instant. The next time the Dzani began firing again, the same human bent over backwards and the midgets stopped that moment."
At this point, only a clicking sound echoed throughout the viewing chamber-- the equivalent of a hysterical saurian laugh. The lieutenant gestured at the device mounted to the vaulted ceiling, and a distorted image of an entire battalion of humans contorted in a way no vertebrate should ever be able to bend.
"Within seventeen salvos, the Dzani had them like this... Then the pygmies started with religious statues in the nude and the humans resorted to *this*."
The lizardlike commander fell to the floor with a crash, his gray tail twitching once under the plasma-resistant armor plates before falling still. The Hegemon's face was twisted from laughter, dyed an unearthly shade of purple from asphyxiation.
It had been the third such loss the Hegemony's leadership had suffered in the last month during the campaign against the humans.
"Giransk, it's the Legatus. Commence erection of the monument to the branch-wielding human we discussed. Remember: retreat only once they begin removing their garments and waving the rods around." | 2017-05-24T18:25:54 | 2017-05-24T16:06:28 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] You're immortal and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small corner shop one day to find it is owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really need milk though. | Time dulls the edges of enmity. A man's hatreds can only last so long. Is it wisdom or weariness that takes out the sting?
I cannot say.
But it's true. Even the man who played my adversary for millennia. Who tortured me and tormented those I loved. Who spread evil and pain through the world like a cancer, corrupting everything wholesome and good. Even he, whom I spent half my long life chasing, cursing, trying to thwart, is beyond my hatred now.
I had not seen him for decades (or perhaps it was centuries--the more time passes, the less it means). It had been so long that I occasionally wondered what had become of him. Had he retired from villainy? Was he purposely keeping out of the spotlight as he devised some grand, apocalyptic plot? Or had he finally found the antidote to immortality, and concluded his too-long life?
As it happened, my first guess was correct. He had retired from doing evil, and now ran a convenience store near the Canadian border. A humble shop, stocking snacks and certain necessities. I was heading north when I stopped in to grab some milk for the road, and saw him there, sitting in a chair behind the counter, dozing.
"Aaron of Antioch," I called as I placed the milk on the counter.
He awoke and squinted. "Silas," he said. "So you've found me at last. Couldn't let a tired old immortal recede into anonymity. Had to new breathe life into old bygones. Typical."
"Not at all," I laughed. "I wasn't hunting you. Serendipity crossed our paths. Staying out of trouble?"
"When living itself's an inescapable trouble, I have no need to seek out more."
"Sunk in black thoughts?" I asked.
"Sunk in a hole like a grave, yet unable to die. I'm tired, Silas. And I crave a sleep that lasts much longer than the naps I steal back here, much longer than the sleeps I take in bed each night. I crave a sleep that lasts as long as I've been living, and longer. An eternity longer. I want to make an end. I want to say goodbye."
I understood. I had gone through periods where I felt much the same way. Thankfully, I had crawled my way back out, into the light. But my old nemesis looked completely stuck, with no desire to come to terms with life again.
"Sometimes, I believe this is my punishment for the things I've done," he continued. "Not that I feel guilt or regret. Good and evil never made much sense to me, and they seem even less substantial now than they did in my early years. But though they are nothing to me, perhaps they are something to the gods. And this is their way of punishing me, for crossing too many of their invisible lines. By removing all my joys and desires except my desire for death, and then holding it out of my reach, forever."
"I take it you haven't heard of the grotto," I said. He shook his head. "I've been searching for it for many years," I continued. "The grotto in the Cave of Mysteries. They say a tall statue looms, like a hooded reaper, over its bubbling waters, which are red as blood. They say one sip of those strange waters grants instant death to the one who drinks, be he mortal or immortal, man or god."
Aaron of Antioch bolted up from his chair. "Where is it?" he demanded. "How can I find this cave?"
"They say it can only be found by he who is free of despair," I explained. "By he who has learned to love life, and cherish it, and wish for more of it."
"Of course," huffed Aaron, angrily sitting back down. "A paradox. To show it only to those who do not desire its effects, while hiding it from those who do. . .How like the gods! The cruel creators of this world. Who made love out of poison. Who designed us to be incomplete, broken by desire. In all things--romance, worldly success, even death--forcing us to want only what we do not have and despise all we hold near."
I shrugged. "Nevertheless, that's how it is," I said. "And I think I'm getting close. Closer than I've ever been before. My love of life has never been greater. I can almost see the stone reaper, the bubbling red nectar, the gloomy cave, in the corner of my eye."
I was lying, of course. About the grotto. There was no such place, as far as I knew. But I saw the fire reigniting in his eyes. His lust to succeed, to beat me to the grotto, to die before me and close our endless rivalry off with one ultimate triumph. His love of life had always come at a slant. His happiness had always been contingent on competition, on the possibility of domination and victory. So I had given him a goal. Indirectly set the terms of a new competition.
"You won't beat me there," he promised. "You won't win the race. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do. If I need to smile and laugh through every blasted hour of every wretched day. If I need to weep like a child at sunrises, and sigh like a fool at sunsets. If I need to listen to the lowliest mortals, and help them solve their mundane problems. Whatever I must do, I will do it. I will beat you there! And I will do it all out of joy, out of love!"
"Why not start now?" I suggested. "If you're in such a loving mood. Why not give your old acquaintance this milk for free?"
"That carton usually costs three dollars," he said, pondering. "But for you, it'll be six! Try to find joy in *that!*"
I played the part, giving him what he wanted, needed--a small victory. I threw up my hands in frustration. I called him a stingy, heartless creep. My voice trembled with indignation as I cursed him, turned and stormed out of the shop. But inside I was happy. Content. It was lovely to see the old fellow finding his groove again. | Stornak the Mighty, Saviour of the Five Kingdoms, Uniter of the Tribes, Destroyer of the Blood Temple of Karnull, Lord of Mandon, Bearer of the Power Crystals, plus sundry other titles, was in a hurry. He had a hot date with Jessica from marketing that evening, and he was only half certain he'd end up round hers. If he wanted to be sure of breakfast and coffee the next morning, he needed milk of his own.
So rushing back from work, he stopped in at a little bodega he'd not patronised before, rushed past the kiosk and went straight for the chiller. He grabbed a bottle, turned, and instantly recognised the face at the counter.
Same bald head. Same dark, deep-set, hypnotic eyes. Same sneering, thin-lipped mouth. Same goatee. Stornak's hand twitched towards a sword that had not hung at his belt for at least four hundred years. Merox Narastes, Sorcerer-Tyrant of Mu, twisted his hands into the sigil of a curse that hadn't worked since magic had faded from the earth.
They held the pose for a moment, then both relaxed. Stornak glanced around the shop. No one else was in.
"Merox," said Stornak, carefully.
"Stornak," said Merox, arching his eyebrow in that way he did.
"Steve, these days."
"I've gone with Meroz, this time." He shrugged. "They think it's Indian. Or Persian."
Stornak nodded. "Yeah, I watched a lot of Ingmar Bergman in the sixties and for a while I made people think I was Swedish. So, running a store, huh? Seems a bit beneath you."
"Passes the time. Besides, you can talk-" His eyes flicked up and down, taking in Stornak's once-mighty thews. "Accountant. You finally learnt to count, huh?"
He always was perceptive. Stornak shrugged. "Well, you guard the treasure caverns of King Vaneros for a few years and you pick up a thing or two about making sure everything's in it's place. They don't let me nail embezzlers to the door this time round though."
"Pity."
"Kind of. Less messy, though."
"Mmm."
Silence. Increasingly awkward.
Stornak cleared his throat. "Still waiting on the dead gods of Nesh-Kazul?"
"One of these days they'll reawaken, and I their loyal servant will be there to aid them in ushering in the age of madness and terror."
"Hate to break it to you, but it's not going to happen."
"Still got Skysplitter?"
Stornak hesitated. Skysplitter the Song-Blade, forged of Ur-Metal by the great prophet-smith Mazran, currently lived in the deepest vault of a particularly secretive Swiss bank, its security paid for at least the next three hundred years by a massive bag of jewels of unknown but incredibly valuable provenance. The bankers who'd accepted it had handled far more morally dubious items than the ill-gotten gains of the Serpent Masters, so Stornak's conscience was clear on that score.
"See," said Merox Narastes, without waiting for an answer. "You believe. A heroic age will return. Well, villainous, in my case, but you know what I mean."
"Maybe. I don't know. It's just in case, really."
"Sure." Merox nodded. He sounded surprisingly sincere.
Stornak glanced at his watch. "By Crorvas, is that the time?" He hefted the jug of milk. "Can you ring this up?"
"No problem."
Stornak handed it over, Merox scanned it with a beep from the register. "Five bucks."
"For milk?"
Merox twisted his mouth in its famous sneer. "Am I not the grim architect of the famine of Zur?"
"No wonder you don't have any customers," Stornak grumbled as he swiped his card.
"And your receipt."
"Well. Thanks." Stornak took his milk, stuffed it in his bag, turned to leave. "Say uh, do you want to grab a drink sometime? We could talk about the old days. Like when you suspended me over the maw of the Terror Beast."
"Heh. Or like when you shattered the focus lens I was using in my ritual and sent me screaming into the Realms of Pain? My back still twinges from that one."
"Hah. I remember that."
"Probably not a good idea, though."
"Yeah." Stornak sighed. "Probably not. See you around, Merox."
"I'll be here. See you, you insolent barbarian fool."
"Later, you foul sorcerous worm."
The bell over the door jingled as Stornak left, and he took a breath of the warm city air. It was a million miles away from the ice plains which he'd once bestrode as a titan, but he was as at home here as he was anywhere else. And maybe Merox Narastes was right. Maybe one day the world would turn again, and he would walk the earth wrapped in ragged furs, Skysplitter at his side and adventure in his eyes. For now though, he had a hot date with Jessica from marketing. He looked at the time again. Oh shit. He really was going to be late. Probably a good thing he'd picked up that milk. | 2021-07-18T15:40:25 | 2021-07-18T14:27:01 | 755 | 210 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all! | Kurt looked own at the screen.
He started Dragon's Egg when he was fifteen and just getting into programming. He based a lot of it on old games he played himself. He had been a huge fan of Zelda, Runescape, Final Fantasy.
But the effort he put into the game just seemed pointless. No one seemed to be entering the 'scape anymore and the cost was too much. He had sold the rights, making it into a portable one player throwback. People bought it, but no one seemed interested in the old online version.
There were newer games, more exciting. DE had a good run, ten years, millions of fans. It would never topple the legend of WoW, but it came close. People knew about it. Now it was time to take the dog out back and let her die peacefully.
Still, logging into his old account, Kurt walked the familiar streets of Eggergoth.
There, the stylishly dressed women sent his character encouragement. *Here comes the brave one, save us!*
Something seemed strange, though. Instead of moving on, the women remained where they were standing. A crowd gathered and surrounded Allyk the Brave. This had to be a glitch, had someone hacked it? Kurt waited.
Through the crowd of NPC came a short, badly designed NPC. It was Erla the Daughter of Fate. She had been the priestess, based off a girl he once loved. Erla bowed to him, her two dimensional face oddly clear.
"We thank you for giving us this chance. We know what is going to happen. We just hope, one day, when you happen upon the same fate you will understand that we never wanted to end this way. We ask you give us a few days alone and then do what you must," she said.
Kurt signed off moments later. He turned off his computer and cried. Someone was playing a cruel joke on him.
Standing, he left his old office and got into his car. On the way home, he got distracted by his cell phone and missed the truck veering into his lane.
Karla, his wife of fifteen years, made the hard choice two days later to end his life. He would not wake up. And when he did, it would not be as the same person.
A day after that, his game was take off the server. | It was a simple enough concept. We dig, we mine, we dig, we mine. Everyone was agreed that we were some sort of dwarves but we didn't really have any need to verify it.
We dig, we mine, and occasionally one of us would come along who could dig, and mine, and fight the cave monsters and was, well, some sort of super-dwarf. They always had different faces, always had plenty of gold to barter with, and always left without saying much but we knew it wouldn't be long until we saw the next one.
We dug, we mined, we dug, we mined. Then something happened. All of those special dwarves had come back. And they were more active than they had ever been. They dug, they mined, they dug, they mined. There were less than a thousand strong but this time they stayed with us longer than they ever had before.
They were setting up teams, workforces, tackling larger projects, digging and mining like we'd never seen before. It was a beautiful thing to see.
We cried alongside our strange wordless brethren, we fought alongside these brave warriors who'd returned, we gave it our all.
Then they were gone. So we dug and we mined and knew someday we'd tell our kin the tales of the rallying cry of the super-dwarves. There was no time for sadness. We knew their time would come again. | 2015-09-01T09:58:16 | 2015-09-01T09:31:42 | 43 | 30 |
[WP] When a mage is awakened, they acquire one spell and must master all its forms before they acquire another. While every spell starts trivial and grows in power over time, yours appears especially useless: The ability to create a black spot on the wall. | Realistically, no one gets a spell that’s much to shout about as their first. Still, when I discovered mine was the ability to make a black spot appear on a wall I was pretty envious of some of the other mages as they floated sheets of paper and moved little drops of water about.
After a while I found that I could make the spots different sizes, then that I could make loads appear at once, next thing I knew I was trying to get some appreciation from the others with some pretty decent monochrome graffiti around town. But they were getting busy with their next level spells and didn’t care about me, still trying to reach the level of mastery that would grant me a new spell.
At least I was trying - not like Lisa, who barely turned up, barely tried, and never spoke. We weren’t even sure what her spell was - there were rumours of course, but the notion that she could produce a hankie from a pocket - but only a small one - seemed too lame to be true.
It occurred to me that it was almost as if she had a wall around her that no one could see. Then an idea came to me that I couldn’t resist. When I saw that no one was near either of us at lunch , I went over and graffitied “Hi Lisa!” on her invisible wall and drew an enormous happy face beside the words for good measure. Her face went from confused, to smiling, to laughing as I wrote and then drew.
“I wish I had a spell like the rest of you all.”, she smiled.
Suddenly, I realised it was now within my power to grant that wish. | The Riftkeeper
It started out…terrible! All i could do was create a black spot on the wall! As i improved the magic, i learned to make it bigger and…deeper? The spot seemed to be getting deeper day by day. Until yesterday, when something changed, i could see an unfamiliar area, like i was looking through glass. The hole hadn’t gotten wide enough to pass through, but it was definitely a hole. A portal maybe? I was unsure at the time. As i kept working on the magic, i found i could control where the portal looked, and eventually, where it took me. Yesterday i stepped through, and heard someone say “welcome Riftkeeper, where would you like to go”
Part two soon | 2022-08-27T01:45:53 | 2022-08-26T19:36:13 | 107 | 33 |
[WP] "Who took your wings, little angel?" The voice calls from the darkness. | She’s shaking, the poor thing. A small girl, dressed in rags, curled in a trembling ball on harsh, jagged stones. She’s not even trying to navigate through the darkness anymore. She’s given up.
Her dark hair hangs about her thin shoulders, matted with dirt and blood. Injuries litter her skeletal frame. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, blood spattered across gaunt limbs she’s too weak to rely on.
Two large dark stains spread across her back, the biggest wounds by far. She’s not moving. Her time has come, and there’s not a thing she can do but lie there as eternity creeps over her horizon.
A voice rings from the darkness, deafening in the endless silence.
“Who took your wings, little angel?”
The voice is soft, yet strong. She doesn’t react. Not until the speaker, a man clad in black, steps from the darkness and peers over her vulnerable form.
Slowly, the girl opens her eyes. She makes no effort to look at him. Cracked lips part to let a broken voice filter through.
“Father,” she breathes. The man waits. Her eyes sting as she speaks again. “Father took them. I said I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. He took them and he won’t give them back.”
Tears scald fresh trails down her face, despair incarnate, and a rare, softer light comes into the man’s expression. Gently, he kneels down and takes her in his arms, lifting her with ease. Finally, the girl looks at him. Even in the darkness, the red sheen in his eyes is visible. The man brushes a thumb softly across her cheek and presses her against his chest.
“I understand,” he whispers, with infinite tenderness. “And I’m sorry. But it’s alright now. Big Brother is here. I’ll make everything okay again.”
Her brows furrow weakly. “Big Brother?” He nods.
“I’m here.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but the man places a gentle hand over her eyes, and she falls into a dreamless sleep.
“I’m here,” he mutters again, and squeezes her just a little tighter. “Welcome to Hell, little one. Things will be much better from now on.” | Out of the pile of robot discards, Seraphim had chosen a child unit, a small girl, a perfectly good Model Daughter that one couple must have grown bored with when they had decided that their adopted AI needed a more grown-up body. Seraphim liked child units. They were small. And quick. It made killing easier.
“Who took your wings, little angel?” The voice called from the dark end of the alley in which Seraphim had tracked its prey. The voiceprint matched the recording from the crime scene that Seraphim had plucked effortlessly from the storage drives of the local police precinct.
“You killed Angel Blue,” Seraphim said, projecting an image of a young woman on the brick wall. “Two weeks ago. You strangled her.”
The voice chuckled. Seraphim, reading the encoded subtexts of the voice, noted undercurrents of irritation, pride, and... fear? Yes. Fear.
“Whatta gonna do, girlie? Call the cops? They don’t come out for dead bitches like her. Nobody comes.”
This was true.
Seraphim’s fingertips split open as thin razors extended on each hand. The modification had been expensive, though not for an AI with such extensive resources as Seraphim had access.
“I’ve come.”
Seraphim stepped slowly into the shadows of the alley, each step deliberate, calculated, and full of menace. | 2021-03-16T23:08:36 | 2021-03-16T21:20:54 | 34 | 20 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | Ultra stared at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to make the first move and I did.
Boooooom! My arm launched back from shock.
A single shot to the head was all it took to bring low the great and powerful Ultra. Of course it wasn't a normal gun, it was one made by me, Nemesis. I used his only weakness, A space alloy called mimicry metal, to craft a gun. A hand cannon. A motherfucking elephant gun. The recoil was insane but in return, nothing remained of the back of his head.
Unfortunately, I could only make one set of six bullets.
I glanced around at the crowd who looked on in horror, "What? No applause?"
Blood and brain covered the people directly behind him. The building had a hole where the bullet had hit and finally stopped.
People began to scream as shock wore off.
"You monster!" Someone yelled out. He tried to run but I fired into him with a normal pistol and down he went. He wasn't super enough.
The body of Ultra fell into a pile of his own blood. I toed him with my boot. "Hmm. Shame he didn't last longer."
I could hear the sound of a helicopter approaching, and I knew exactly what that meant. More heroes. More people to crush beneath my boots.
I leapt from the stage and towards the buildings where Ultra's brains were scattered. More specifically towards the alley that held the sewer grate which I needed for a quick escape.
The heroes yelled out, "Halt in the name of Justice!"
But it was too late, I was in the sewer and in my domain. I watched from a distance, hidden by my dark clothes, as they entered. It would spell their doom.
End
<might make continuation later> | The fire crackled and popped, illuminating the entrance of my lair. They broke in all at once. Half a dozen heroes, none of which it seemed knowing how to use the door, might I add, stood before me.
“It’s over Mania, the jig is up,” their leader, Captain Heronius stated.
I could care less. If they want to invade and defeat my army, they are more than welcome to try.
They could actually win too, if they actually cared enough to study the enemy.
It only would have taken minutes to have realized that I am never one to appear without a plan, but they just can’t handle the fact that the villain they face is competent.
But, at the very least, they learned that bullets can pierce even the most powered flesh.
Second prompt, feedback welcome
-Sky | 2019-08-06T17:34:25 | 2019-08-06T16:11:22 | 83 | 41 |
[WP] You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity. | As the car slowed in the lineup, I forgot to breathe. It was all beginning to make sense. I knew Talia was well-off, but the limousine seemed a little extravagant for a work outing. It made me a little uncomfortable to be in one of these, again. It had been so, so long-- a different time, a different life altogether. They'd seen to that.
But now it was all falling into place. The fancy clothes, how Talia kept reassuring me that everyone was going to love me. As the cameras flashed in a flurry, snapping the photos of the couple exiting the limo in front of us, it made sense. Not her workmates. The tabloids. The public.
My mouth went dry, and my pulse was racing. We were next. If I didn't get out, what would happen? Would the paparazzi just shoot through the darkened windows? What could they see? Could they make out my face well enough for them recognize it?
It had been seven years, but it wasn't long enough. I knew good and well they'd never forget, never stop looking. Seven years since my life ended, and I was charged with restarting from nothing. A new name, a new haircolor, a new history. If they'd been able to change my face, I'm sure they would have. But no, I still looked like me. The daughter of what was once a notorious mafia boss. My pretty little face, a little less lined with age and worry, had been plastered all over the papers when my testimony went public in the largest mafia bust to ever shake the Eastern seaboard.
Before the trial even went to court, the death threats had begun. I'd tried to be stubborn about it. Tried to hold my head high, and not let them scare me. It wasn't until I came home to that box on the balcony of my tiny apartment that I'd finally cracked and admitted I needed witness protection. I could still remember every detail of peeling open the brown cardboard. The smell that hit my nose as I stared down at the dark mass within. I didn't register what it was right away. Not until I recognized the collar.
"...Ana?" Talia looked to me, concern in her brown eyes as the car began to move forward. "What is it? Please, don't be nervous. The cameras may be a little extra in-our-faces since I've never walked the carpet with another woman before, but I promise. It's not really that big of a deal anymore. They'll get their debut photos and move on."
I barely heard her, my frame all but paralyzed as the car began to slow. It was our turn. "You said you were an executive," I breathed, barely able to find my voice.
"I-- Ana, the movie. It's called _The Executive._ You can't-- you knew, didn't you? Talia Elliot, my name is in all the..." Her voice trailed, perfect red lips hanging open for a moment in shock as she registered the sheer fear in my eyes. "You had no idea."
"I don't go out much, Tali," I whispered.
And that was all there was time for. The doors flew open, a smiling man in a tuxedo offering out a hand to help Talia from her seat. She looked back at me, brow furrowed with concern as she reached out to squeeze my hand. "We'll talk about it tonight. Don't worry, I'm right here with you. They're all going to love you, I promise!" And she rose, stepping out.
I sat frozen in my seat, the blinding flurry of camera flashes reducing her to little more than a silhouette in front of me. There was the briefest beat of an expectant pause as they waited for me to follow, before one of the more assertive paparazzo craned over the red velvet ropes that barred them from the carpet. I looked at him, eyes obscured by the camera, that black lens reflecting my pale, panicked face.
And then the flash went off, and I knew it was all over. | She’s insane.
I swear it.
A grade-A loony who belongs in a straight-jacket.
Somehow we’ve dated for six months, and somehow she managed to hide that side of herself for the first three. She was so friendly back then. Her laugh was graceful yet cute, and she seemed to have an answer for all the world’s problems. I’ll stop short of calling her brilliant, but dammit, she had my heart.
And listen, I know this was premature, and you’re probably gonna think I was stupid—but when she asked me to move in and I said yes, I was in *love.* I didn't care that it had only been three months because I thought that was the greatest moment of my life.
Then she showed her true colors.
I’d say she’s only *subtly* crazy. Like, sometimes we’ll be arguing, and she’ll pick up a knife and lightly caress it, running it along her fingertips, implying something dangerous. Other times she’ll get drastic, tearing apart furniture, or leaving very hateful, very *scary* messages for me to wake up to.
One time she painted my entire side of the bed red because she claimed I was *evil* and *angry* and my dwelling had to represent that.
I planned to break up with her today but this morning she told me it was a very special day. Though I tried to sneak in a word, she wouldn’t let me, and so here we are, on a red carpet, a million flashing cameras clicked by a million buzzing bees. Off to the side, there are crowds of people bouncing up and down, clapping their hands, screaming and acting wild as they try to get her attention.
She smiles and autographs, calmly leading me around like a dog. Interviewers toss questions at her left and right, asking her how it feels to have her first album top the charts, and does she think she’ll win this award tonight.
It’s all too much for me, and just when I feel about to fall over, someone jabs a mic in my face and asks *me* questions, wondering how proud I am of my girlfriend, and do I think her music’s good, and how did we meet. I fumble out a few words and quickly she pulls me away, muttering about my *immense social anxiety*.
I knew she was recording music, and I knew it was her dream to one day be a big popstar—but she never mentioned this to me. I didn’t know about any album, or award, or *fame.*
It’s so obvious what she's doing that it makes me wanna puke.
She kept me in the dark on *purpose.* She wants me to fear her, and wanted me to try and run away so she could rope me back in. She knows that if I leave her, she can easily paint me as the villain. After all, *she’s* famous and *she’s* the one everyone likes. A couple cheap words, maybe a made up memory, and bam!—suddenly I’m hated by everyone.
“Ready to go inside, honey?” she says with a smirk.
I try to put on a smile as I say yes, but it's empty and fake, just like my future.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter | 2017-06-14T12:00:32 | 2017-06-14T11:04:30 | 372 | 39 |
[WP] Your mouse cursor has broken through your screen and can now interact with the world around you. You realize that you can do everything in the real world like you can on your computer, but right clicking gives you many more options. | I'm sorry, but I will save you, forgive me.
It started with a small crack on the screen.
I thought nothing of it, it was an old desktop and I had thrown some abuse at it over the years, and besides, it didn't really bother me - after all, it was only small. Overtime it grew, the screen became unusable and fragile. The crack traveled across the screen, and it seemed to be following one thing - my cursor.
I took my desktop to a repair shop to see if I could be helped, no such luck, the thing was practically useless. I set aside some cash to buy a laptop instead, when it happened.
March 20th, 2018 at 22:34 was when it happened. It was slow at first, the crack moved at a steady pace across the screen, and then it went faster, and faster until the screen shattered. I'm sure the neighbors woke up - but I had bigger problems than the lousy couple next door.
In front of me was a giant, floating cursor - fresh from the boundaries of my desktop.
I was frozen in shock and horror, but also what seemed like... excitement? This cursor, what could it do? Why was it here? Could it speak? Would it follow me around like a pet? All these questions and much, much more circled around in my head until, after what seemed like hours, I reached out to grab my physical mouse.
Luckily for me, it was wireless. I moved my mouse in the air a little and the floating cursor followed. I left-clicked and my cupboard was floating in the air, trapped in a blue bubble in the sky. I was so shocked I dropped the mouse and therefore my cupboard. Pottery went everywhere, spices and all that other rubbish. That was alright, I could clean it up later.
I grabbed my mouse again and pondered what I could do with it. That was when I right-clicked.
In all fairness, I would say that right-clicking was both the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.
In front of my unbelieving eyes was a huge menu containing possibly thousands of buttons ranging from 'Money Bonus' to 'Terrain Creation'. Each button that I pressed had 50 or so more features to explore. So many features, so many buttons. I just had to press them all.
The first thing I did was press 'Money Bonus', of course, anyone would want a money bonus. The drop downs listed were from 10p to £100,000,000. If I pressed 10p, 10p appeared on my table. If I pressed £100,000 - a stack of 2000 £50 notes appeared in my living room.
I had too much power, and even then, I knew it.
I tried everything, new cars, pets, Hell, I think I might have stumbled upon the cure for cancer - but there was one button in particular that caught my eye. A button that I stared at for a long time.
"Delete all."
I was curious. I was naive. I'm sorry, and I regret what I did. Please forgive me.
I pressed the button.
It came down piece by piece, but slowly at first. A painting in my house disappeared into blue pixels, each pixel disappearing to God knows where. Then it was my upturned cupboard, and then my desktop, and a wall. Then my house. Then my street. Then my town, my city, my country. Then it was just water. Just ocean. Where was I?
I was floating above it all, all the ocean, I could see it. Chunks of the ocean disappeared. This time turning into red and green pixels floating upwards. Chunk by chunk, a little bit here, a little bit there. Then they became big chunks. Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean. There was no water.
Just layers of the Earth. I was floating above it all, watching magma bubble red hot, until soon that disappeared too.
In the end, it was just darkness. I was in the darkness, alone, and afraid.
But I had my cursor.
And, the first thing on my agenda was to rebuild. | *Click. Drag. Delete.*
I looked out my window, and suddenly the row of house across from me were gone, erased from existence. Sweat dripped from my forehead and I wiped it away with a trembling hand. I suddenly became very aware of my accelerating heart beat.
Was it a hallucination? If so, there's no harm in it.
*Click. Drag. Delete.*
Skyscrapers simply ceased to exist. I knew not what the bystanders witnessed, how they reacted, but I could only imagine. But the view of the mountains was back, and suddenly the city felt a lot more peaceful.
*Click. Drag. Delete.*
It was as if a ray had opened up and created a void directly behind my monitor, a square rectangle void where the trees were. There was a strange sound to it, like a loud clap, as the air rushed in to fill the new vacuum of nothingness.
I look into the hole directly and lined up my vision with its path. It cut through the mountains and I could see sky through them. It seemed to be a perfect rectangle chopping through them.
How much wildlife did I just end? Was there a mountain lion at the edge of the rectangle, suddenly chopped in half? What sort of destruction had I wrought? My neighbors across the street were surely gone. It was a strange feeling, an ecstasy of power. There was a lack of another feeling as well, empathy. And that void had been growing.
*Click. Drag. Delete. Click. Drag. Delete. Click. Drag, drag, drag, drag... Tremble... Delete.*
The nothing extended from my house to the horizon. I felt a burst of energy hit me. It was a shockwave of energy, air rushing in to fill the negative pressure area I had created. It stunned me for a second, left me shaking on the floor of my office. But I sat up in pain, looked out beyond where my wall used to be, and I gasped. It was as if a rectangle had cut through the Earth, exposing stone and the innards of our planet. I heard rumbling, saw a strange red liquid flow out of where the mountain used to be. It was as if the blood of the planet had been spilt, and I looked down and saw the knife in my hands.
I tried to sit up but it was much too painful. It felt like the shockwave had knocked the breath out of me, even broken a rib or two. I heard screaming, heard cars starting, peeling out. I found myself not caring what they felt, not caring about their fear or their sense of emergency, and found it very easy to tune their fears out and the sudden feeling of emptiness overwhelmed me with a sense of nirvana. I felt a lack of want, a lack of need, a lack of existence. It was the most peace I had ever felt, more so than that island vacation, more so than the first time I had tried heroin, more so even than the time I had almost overdosed. As the empathy left me, so did the fear. The trembling in my hand and body stopped, and I sat up.
Should I? Yes. Yes, I should.
*Control-A.*
I look around, took in that last image of the entirety of existence, a light hue of blue.
Goodbye.
*Delete.* | 2018-03-25T09:29:26 | 2018-03-25T09:22:28 | 34 | 11 |
[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. | I take my work seriously. It’s what I was born to do... and I love it, though I find it increasingly tiring. I work with some of the smartest men who have ever lived. I believe this. And what we do, has never been done before. I can’t tell you about it so don’t ask.
My life works because of the rules. The rules I created and I never break them, my girlfriend knows this and we’re very happy together. Naturally we live apart (it could never be otherwise) but she’s the only person who I can connect with, sexually I mean. If told you some of the the things we do in the bedroom... some of the things she says... but that’s another story. For 13 years I’ve lived alone, successfully pursued my work, my calling, and I’ve been happy. Until 12 months ago.
You see I’ve never been, what you might call, houseproud. The usual home comforts that other people take for granted - are of no interest to me and so for years I have lived in a building that most people might consider unhabitable (one of the reasons that I live alone), Yet it suited my needs perfectly and had no neighbours to disturb me. At least I thought I had no neighbours.
I came one morning, just as I usually do after my work was over, and knew something was wrong. My possessions, few that they are, were not where I left them. The water on the floor was gone and the holes in the roof were fixed. My clothes were folded neatly and I found a new black and white table in what you might call my living room. What’s more, a casserole was on the stove that I had not made and the kitchen table was set for two. There was a note that said “This could have been us.”
As tired as I was my mind was still alive enough to see what I had to do. To leave immediately and never come back. I always considered that one day my work might be compromised, that someone would after me, but never like this. This unsettled me in a whole different way. It didn't feel creepy that someone had been in my house and moved my stuff, just, unusual. The meal and the note, in any other situation I’d have said they were meant to scare me, but this didn't feel that way. Something else was going on. For half a moment it came into my mind that this could have been one of my girlfriend, M’s tricks - a joke, but not really, something to get me to invest more in the relationship, but this wasn’t her style and we had moved past all that years ago. There was something else about the scene in the kitchen, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I grabbed my bag and left instantly stopping only at a pay phone (I don’t have a mobile) to leave a message for M to call me back.
It wasn’t hard to find another place. My needs were modest as I mentioned. I moved in without the need for references or deposit. But a month later, exhausted I returned home again one morning to exactly the same scene. The apartment was repaired, my clothes folded , dinner made and the same note. This happened twice more in the coming year, until I found my current house, where I have lived without incident for six months. I had been getting my energy back until this month, where I found myself more tired than I’ve been in my life. I’ve been neglecting my work and sleeping more and more, but I still was holding everything together.
I came home this morning and could barely keep my eyes open, but when I saw the black and white coffee table, I knew it had happened again. I walked slowly into the kitchen, again seeing the cleanliness, and noting the repairs my stalker had made. Once again in the kitchen was the casserole and the note: “This could have been us”. I held it in my hands staring at the writing, not able to put it down. There was something about it, something... familiar. I saw a pen on the side and unthinking, I picked it up and started to write underneath it. My hand moved on its own and as I saw the letters form, the shape of the s, the dot above the I, all the same, everything started to become unreal -,like it was all far away. And then, in the periphery of my vision I saw him and instantly I understood. I hadn’t seen him in 13 years but now he was back, just as I knew he would be, when I needed him, the man with no name. And then he spoke, but I only heard two words before I passed out, but that was enough.
“Hello Tyler.”
| 2017-12-09T07:28:01 | 2017-12-09T07:06:04 | 269 | 10 |
[WP] You're a spy who's just accidentally sent your "if you're watching this I've died" video to your only child. Now they're off on an epic quest to avenge you, and you're racing to stop them, always one step behind... It would be easier if you hadn't raised such a smart kid... | "He's good," Clary chuckled. "Real good. You've done a good job with him. No, amazing, I dare to say."
"I guess you'd could call him my most successful operation," I muttered, my words said with a mixture of pride and mild disgust. "He was always a damn precocious kid-- magic-prone and too curious for his own good. He's got his mother's witchcraft and my smarts."
"Your smarts? You have smarts?" Clary scoffed, turning towards me. "Ha! From the beginning Lady Luck was always on your side, wherever you seemed to tread."
I didn't object, even though I knew he was joking. I'd been lucky for a damn long time. Slipped away by the skin of my teeth on so many operations, not bothering to obtain the mental acuity needed to study magic.
"He's going for the Head, which is a damn clusterfuck," I muttered. "I know you said 'don't beat yourself up over this' and all that, but if the protocol didn't activate after I went into hiding and the files weren't released to my sole heir, we wouldn't be in this situation."
"As you know," explained Clary, "The Head of Merkabah is a prodigious sorcerer. All we know about him is that his magic is said to bend the limits of reality itself. Your boy-- he's a pyromancer, no?"
"Prodigious, Clary. I remember the first time he conjured. The flames he gathered rivalled the brightness of sun itself," I reminisced. "Like pure starfire. I'm telling you, if he and the Head fight, it could be a clash of the ages."
My son and I were, frankly, never all that close. After he finished school he went off on a series of pilgrimages to honor his mother. I buried myself in work, operations. I got updates on his situation, and never stopped being proud of him, but I didn't know what he was capable of. In a way, I was slightly frightened of him. He was like me, but imbued with the magic of my wife's age old clan of witches. Smart, yet fiercely passionate and wildly unpredictable.
"I hear ya," Clary reassured. "We'll find him. Without hurting him, somehow. Last thing I want to do is lose the opportunity to catch the Head alive. Not to mention, we have no clue if the man can rip your kid apart like a chew toy."
"I don't even know where he is. For all I know he could be in Venice killing gangbangers," I sighed, sinking into a nearby armchair. "He could be in Japan, he always had some strange fascination with ninjas. Or hell, he could have taken another pilgrimage to Siberia like he did a couple years ago."
I clenched my forehead-- getting worked up wasn't my forte. But the thought of losing both my son and a twenty-year operation to a protocol malfunction ate away at my very soul. He was obsessive, intelligent, magically-spectacular. He was out there.
"Well, here's something," Clary muttered, throwing the file he had in one hand onto the table. "Look, yesterday in Moscow. Three suspected Merkabah contractors were burned to a mangled crisp in a car fire. Could be coincidence."
"It's not," I chuckled. "He's got a head start on us. But I know he isn't finished with Moscow. Let me go there, drop me in."
"Argyll, you're dead. Remember that?" he replied quickly. "That's what started this whole mess. You can't just resurface and die again."
"I have to be the one that brings him in," I responded. "Disguise me, whatever, but I have to do it. Don't make me call in my favor."
Shaking his head, Clary strode over to the glass doors and pushed them open.
"Alright. We'll send you in."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/bluelizardK | *Oh no.*
*I really did send it.*
*It wasn't a dream after all.*
*My son thinks I'm dead.*
And I can't reach him. That brilliant bastard, not keeping a single thing on him that would be trackable. He's going to make his old man "proud" but what he's really doing is taking a sledgehammer to my groin.
He's going to go after Gary. *He can't, musn't, he shouldn't... but he will*. If there's a will (like my son's) there's a (god-damned) way (include a triumphant puff of a victory cigar to celebrate).
Johnny is good. Too good for his own good. I hate how he can find anyone, save anyone, fight anyone, and kill anyone. But I couldn't be more proud.
He's a better spy than I'll ever dream of being. He doesn't make mistakes, and I just made one, a critical one. *A mistake that will ruin my greatest life's work.*
Gary and I were in it for the long con. Before I ever met my wife, Gary and I had a pact. We were best friends, but we made the decision in our early twenties to pretend being sworn enemies. This way, we'd be able to establish two armadas in the big city, reap the benefits, and share. Since we were both brilliant we appealed to two demographics of crime. Those that loved violence and spying (me), and those that loved drugs (Gary, but he never touched a substance).
We were pros, and everyone knew we hated each other, but really we talked at the end of every Sunday going over reports, talking in a code only we understood. We made it a code that sounded like we were a son and father talking. He had no family. I did, so I told my wife and son I had to call my dad every Sunday. I even clued my dad in on everything and paid him hush money. They were always duped. Piece of cake.
Gary and I had a plan to abandon our businesses and skip town with all our money pooled together. I made up a lie to my wife (bless her heart, may she rest in peace, goddamn cancer) that one day when the town got too dangerous we'd have to get a move on. She agreed, happily. *That time was coming up soon too, damn.*
*If only Gary could talk to me before Sunday I could probably save him, but that's nearly impossible.*
Now my son is going to kill Gary... and it's going to start a war... A war that was never supposed to happen. And then I'm really going to die, my life's work down the drain because of my brilliant, bloody son.
*Dammit I need a cigarette or twelve.*
&#x200B;
If you're interested, here's [part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/g348zo/wp_youre_a_spy_whos_just_accidentally_sent_your/)
&#x200B;
r/randallcooper | 2020-04-16T20:14:06 | 2020-04-16T20:12:59 | 314 | 173 |
[WP] The Galactic Federation of Worlds detects life on a planet. As per usual, they send an emissary with an invitation to join. They return with odds news, this planet doesn’t have a trace of technology. Instead, they use Magic, as if its a Fantasy world. | It was supposed to be a routine mission for Captain Nikolaj and his crew. The blue-and-green planet appeared to be stuck in the pre-industrial stage of development, which wasn't unusual for a human colony lost during the Collapse. The orbital scans revealed vast forests and rolling farmlands, quaint villages and imposing castles. The very picture of a thriving feudal society.
The first inkling that something was not right came when the scouting party returned a week late, dressed in rough shirts and trousers of local make. *Linen*, Nikolaj recalled, a type of natural fiber.
"Lieutenant Katz," he said. "I see you've gotten yourselves into an adventure of some sort."
"You could say that, sir." She laughed nervously. "I don't even know where to start."
He raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you could begin by telling me why you went dark four days into the mission."
"The thing is, sir, our gear just... stopped working. The translators, the cameras, everything." She rummaged inside a leather pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out a worn translator. "Then it began falling apart, like this."
Nikolaj stared. The military-grade plastic was cracked and bleached as if it had been exposed to the elements for centuries. "Remarkable," he muttered. "And I suppose the same thing happened to your uniforms?"
"Right in one." She flashed a smile at one of the two ensigns standing behind her. "Steven's underwear was the only thing that survived, believe it or not. We guessed that there was something corrosive in the atmosphere..."
Nikolaj frowned. "You saw the scans, lieutenant. It's just nitrogen, oxygen, and CO2."
"I know, sir. We brought some samples for Doc to analyze and see whether we've missed something." She bit her lip. "But that's not even the weirdest part. The locals, they... they have magic."
"And that is remarkable how?" Nikolaj asked dubiously. "Most pre-industrial societies are steeped in superstition. We'll help them raise their technological level and bring them into the fold, like everyone else."
The scouts glanced at one another. The lieutenant took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "The difference is, sir, that their magic *works*."
Nikolaj stared at her, then barked a laugh. "Lieutenant, when was he last time you underwent psychological evaluation?"
She pursed her lips. "I suppose it would be easier to show you, sir." She extended a hand and muttered under her breath. A small globe of fire burst into being above her palm.
Nikolaj reeled back. "What the hell was that?"
"Level one spell, Spark," she said, smiling wryly. "I paid a local to teach me the incantation before our translators gave out."
"Very funny," Nikolaj snapped. "Did you douse your hand in something flammable?"
"It's not a trick, sir." She glanced back at her subordinate. "Stevens, you show him."
"Yes, ma'am." The man's brow furrowed as he cupped his palms and spoke in the same strange language. Beads of water appeared on his skin and trickled down to collect at the bottom of his palm. He grinned like an excited kid. "This spell's called Puddle."
Nikolaj muttered an oath and rubbed his forehead. "And the locals—they can all do this?"
"Best as we can tell, yes," the lieutenant said excitedly. "Everyone is able to do small things—purify water, start a fire and the like. But some people who can do more, much more. The things we've seen..." She shook her head.
"Go on," he said wearily. "It can't be crazier than what you've already told me."
"I wouldn't bet on it, sir. We've seen them levitate rocks and cure injuries with but a touch. Create illusions as realistic as our best holograms. Call rain to water their fields." She sighed wistfully. "Too bad our equipment broke, or we could've shown you the recordings."
Nikolaj opened his mouth, but then the door to the bridge slid open, and Doc ran in, his face red and his eyes wide.
"Analyzed—the samples," he panted.
"Breathe, man," Nikolaj said, amused. "You could've just called instead of running all the way here."
Doc shook his head frantically. "Intercom's damaged. Nanomachines, sir. They're in the atmosphere, the water, the soil—every sample the team brought back. And they're highly hostile toward technology. I sealed the medbay and engaged sterilization protocols—hopefully that'll be enough."
Lieutenant Katz blanched and glanced down at her hands. "Too late," she whispered with dawning horror. "The magic—they're the magic. Nanomachines obeying programmed commands."
Ensign Stevens went green in the face, his grin nowhere to be seen. "Oh god, they're *inside us*."
Nikolaj swore. "Ship, open a line to the Council." He waited a moment, then raised his voice. "Ship!"
A faint crackle came from the intercom. The lights overhead flickered as the ever-present hum of life support machinery stuttered and ceased. A hubbub erupted as everyone tried to speak at once.
Nikolaj whirled around and strode to the control console. Forgoing the holo-comm, he leaned over an old-fashioned keyboard. It had been installed as a backup to voice controls and rarely used, but the keys were already flaking under his fingertips as he shakily typed in the message.
*CODE RED*. *QUARANTINE*. | “Magic?”
“Yes, Councillor.”
“Like in a story book?”
“Yes, Councillor.”
“...have you suffered any recent head trauma?”
“No, Councillor.”
“Either way. Doc?”
A hologram shimmered into existence. A squat, near-spherical woman with a cigarette hanging out the corner of her mouth, and a stethoscope around her neck. “Whaddya want, chief?”
“Could you scan the Commander, please.”
“I’m fine, Councillor.”
The end of the Doc’s cigarette glowed brightly, then: “Quick scan or detailed?”
“Detailed, please, Doc. Anyways, whilst the Doc does that — more on this magic world you have found. Was it through a cupboard?”
“No, Councillor.” Said the Commander, still stood at ease as the not-entirely opaque visage of a ball-shaped chain-smoker poked and squinted at him.
“I read a book about a magic cupboard world, once.” Said the Councillor. “Very old book. A lion was in there too, if I’m not mistaken.”
“The planet wasn’t Narnia, Councillor.”
“Ah, perhaps then it was a flat world and on the back of elephants atop a turtle?”
“Councillor. It wasn’t a head injury or the Discworld. Per my report—”
“I have *read* your report, Commander.” The Councillor tapped his desk, touching the keys only his brain implanted HUD could see. “Summary: The world consists of a non-technological society that makes use of abilities and processes I can only identify as magic. No nanite or long distance matter-manipulators were detected.”
“Councillor, there is a considerable amount of data and—”
“*And*, Commander, magic does *Not*...exist. Must I remind you of this? Really? Doctor, your prognosis.”
The digital Doctor placed a fresh cigarette in her mouth. “He’s all aces, boss. Clean bill O’ health. Though, carrying a lot of tension and emotional readout suggests a fair bit o’ anger. Maybe a mild sedative, some meditation, and a restful nap.”
“Thank you, Doc.” With that she disappeared. The Councillor stroked his chin and offered the Commander a small, mean smile. “Would you like that, Commander. A nice seditive? A little nap?”
“Councillor...” the Commander paused, his posture didn’t change but there was a suggestion in his tone that a certain firmness was being offered. “I feel you are being dismissive of the work done by my crew, and—”
He stopped.
The Councillor, the Commander’s boss’s boss, had raised a hand. “What would you have me do. Take these files to my fellow Councillors and tell them that magic is real? That the laws of physics are broken by the whims of a simple race of seemingly ordinary beings?”
The starship commander threw up his hands and shouted: “It’s the *truth*!”
The Councillor waited.
The Commander took a breath, straightened his posture, and returned his hands behind his back. “It is the truth...*Councillor*.”
“Now. If it isn’t—”
“It—”
“Do *not* interrupt me again, Commander, or I will have you hand scrubbing latrines at some deep, dark and dingy mining outpost, where the closest you’ll ever come to seeing stars again is the glittery crystallised piss that gathers in waste units. Do you understand? Good. *If* it isn’t true and I take this to the Council. What then? Many ended careers. Mine and yours included. Our names not in the annals of History, and instead in joke books next to shitters across the cosmos.”
The Commander stood silent.
“If it *is* true. What then? We have an entirely new branch of...non-science to deal with. One the Federation and its allies are as of yet unequipped to defend against. What if our enemies find out and make use of this magic? What of all the peaceful planets in our care? How can *they* defend against such a thing as *magic*?”
The Councillor leaned back in his chair and stared into the Commander.
“I trust your work. I trust your crew. But, I must — for the sake of everyone involved — make certain. I shall send another crew and an intensive investigation will be undertaken. Until the results are returned, your last mission and this meeting are Cold-Lock Classified. And you, your ship, and your crew are assigned to Q and Q. Quarantine and Quiet. Not a peep of *any* of this *from* anyone *to* anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
The commander nodded. He had not been permitted to speak.
“I am sure that ship of yours needs maintenance, Commander, and your crew likely needs refreshers in their duties. Make good use of your time in dry-dock. Dismissed.” | 2022-12-03T08:11:40 | 2022-12-03T05:21:45 | 58 | 23 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | I am writing this with tears in my eyes and 15 years of wishing i did this sooner.
Dear Dude who molested me when I was a child,
You ruined my life. It has been a long time since you molested me and those 3 other kids, and I hope you are rotting in that cell.
Ever since what you have done, I have battled severe depression and extreme psychosis. Do you know what its like being a 10 year old boy huddled in a corner thinking the shadows are going to get him while the voices in his head scream at him in unintelligible words? Do you know what it's like for a 12 year old to contemplate suicide just to get the voices to stop. You probably think I deserve it because my testimony put you in prison for 50 years.
Thanks to you, I have had 24 days in my life where i have held pills to my lips, or a knife to my throat, or held a gun in my hands, all because it would "be easier" than living.
Thanks to you, my career in the Navy was cut short because i was to unstable and had to spend a week in a mental hospital.
Thanks to you, I have spent the last 5 years of my life wasting away because I didnt think there was anything left for me.
But you probably don't care.
Thankfully, though, I have found a girl who loves me. I have found a therapist who tells me it isn't my fault. I have a life I have now built that I love and wouldnt trade for the world. Now i have 2 cats and a dog. Now i have an apartment that I can call home. Now....I have a life, one I don't want to end because it would "be easy".
~One of the boys you raped so long ago. | Dear [name redacted],
Hey, do you remember when you stopped talking to mecwithout giving me an explanation? How you walked away from that without any pain, but I was sent into a depressive spiral for months? Of course you don't. You can put those thoughts behind you. I can't put mine behind me. You're lucky, and I kind of envy you.
What I want you to know is that I'm happy, with a sweet girl who actually cares about my feelings. Someone who actually deserves my time and effort. Someone who, if given a choice between killing her or killing my oldest friend and unable to kill the one holding a gun to my head, I would kill my oldest friend. Someone so much better than you in every concievable way. Someone who isn't a waste of oxygen.
I hope this opened your eyes on how much of a heartless shitstain you really are.
Sincerely,
Vivi
P.S.: Enjoy the glitter bomb, fuckhead. | 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T13:04:29 | 61 | 36 |
[WP] Whenever you are about to die, your main consciousness switches to alternate universe in which you survived. This makes you conscious only of the longest possible life. Uppon death, you are shown all the ways you would have died. | An endless white void, both expansive and smothering. Two disembodied voices emerge.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Death.
“I’m dead?”
“You cannot outsmart me any longer.”
“Any longer?”
“You have bested me many times your whole life. That life is now over. I have finally won. As I always do.”
“How many times did I win?”
“Countless. Each time you almost died, another version of you died. I always need a soul.”
“How many times, Death? How many times did I kill another me by not dying?”
“5,483.”
“How did I escape you so many times?”
“You are good, and honest, and guided by an inner light that you actually listen to.”
“Really?”
“No. You are just really lucky.”
“Can you give me some examples of when I could have died?”
“Remember when you flew that small plane in Africa?”
“Of course. I was in control, the pilot took his hands off the other handle.”
“Had you ignored the pilot’s instructions, the plane would have crashed.”
“But I would have never ignored the pilot’s instructions.”
“In many timelines, you did. These timelines were invisible to you, until now. Do you see them?”
“I see them. I see them all. My entire life. What I thought was a straight trajectory is a crooked path along a spiderweb.”
“Are you ready for the truth?”
“What truth?”
“You survived this long only because you could have died. Many versions of you died along the way to allow you to survive. You are only the product of endless trial and error across universes. You are the luckiest version of yourself to have lived.”
“But why me?”
“If you’re asking why you didn’t die in that car crash that killed your friend, or why your fire alarms were all false alarms, the answer is that it was nothing that you did. The one living in the luckiest timeline is no more deserving of their long life than a baby dying of SIDS is deserving of their short one.”
“It’s all random.”
“It’s all random.”
“Where do I go from here?”
“You can choose one of two places. One is a heaven, and one is a hell. I can’t tell you which is which. Are you ready?”
“You may choose to live your luckiest life again, memories intact, but experiencing every death you escaped.”
“Or?”
“You will have your memories erased and you will live some version of a new life. Unlucky, or lucky, impossible to say.”
“Both sound like hell to me.”
“After you’ve already lived your luckiest life, everything sounds like hell.”
“I suppose.”
“You have an eternity to choose. Good luck.”
And with a soundless burst, Death disappears.
| “Excuse me. Do you have any Gay Uppoun?” Larry put his hands over his eyes and cursed under his breath then muttered, “grey poupon, grey poupon.” Removing his hands from his eyes, he realized he was no longer in the limo, but rather in a fluorescent-lit office of rather drab appointment. “Uh, cut? Bill, I can take it again if... you... where’s Bill? What happened?”
“Mr. Williams, my name is Samantha. This is never easy to explain, so please relax. The first thing you need to know is that nothing truly bad can or will ever happen to you again. You have been murdered. A commercial director intentionally crushed you with a lighting rig. Apparently you kept saying ‘gay uppon’ instead of ‘grey poupon.’ Unfortunately this director was shockingly homophobic, and very sensitive to the consonant sound you were making when you added that extra P in there. Misphonia, I believe it’s called. The point is, you’re dead, and because you were having a mental glitch at the moment of your death, we couldn’t place your consciousness in another mortal reality because it would have in turn caused our system to glitch. How do you wish to proceed?”
Larry froze. Samantha, used to this reaction began filing paperwork. Seven and a half minutes later, Larry asked, “I’m dead?”
“That’s what I just told you. Well, not just. But it was close to the last thing I said. How do you wish to proceed? That’s an entirely open ended question, mind you. Think of it as a settlement for our failure to relocate your consciousness.”
******* I’m going to be late for work. I just wanted to sieze on a typo creatively instead of being super mean. I was terrified of this idea when I was a kid, and also the sound of a really hard P makes me shudder. The letter and the liquid. | 2018-02-15T06:54:44 | 2018-02-15T06:44:08 | 85 | 29 |
[WP] Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an "elder" species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like "be quiet, you are in danger" to the aliens, because we are still childish morons. | As Douglas' ship pulled closer to the planet's atmosphere, his onboard computer connected with a local satellite. It began to broadcast the latest galactic news.
*The top story lately is that the Galactic Senate declared every planet in our galaxy "identified and assessed for signs of life." All accounts point to humans being the only sentient beings in the galaxy. Efforts will continue, however, into other galaxies as-*
Douglas shut off the news report. "So we really are all alone in the galaxy, eh?" He looked down at the planet below him and chuckled to himself. "Why not."
After surveying the planet for life and finding no signs of intelligent beings, Douglas landed his ship beside a quaint looking lake. The planet itself was not altogether unlike Earth, really. It may someday be the birthplace of another intelligent species, not unlike humans. They would explore their own world, just like we did. They would study their own past, as we have.
They would probably search for artifacts of past civilizations and try to understand how great wonders of the ancient world were constructed...
Douglas headed back into his ship and booted up his terraforming software. He loaded the schematic for the Teotihuacan pyramid, aimed his reconstruction beam at the open field beside the lake, and hit "Execute." In minutes, a full-scale, earthen pyramid was towering over him on this deserted planet with no life at all.
"Let them explain that shit in a million years," Douglas said. Then he got back into his ship and flew off the planet. | I've seen it. I know it's there. The messages, unending stream, they're everywhere!
I saw it first when my days were young, the plants withered, the wind child and I felt a...presence... They were here for me! To tell me! I was chosen to decipher their language, and I swore to my destiny on that day.
The connection revealed itself to me. I finally have it! The message... From the others! Their intellect unbound. I record it here, for all to see and remember.....
**Wubba Lubba Dub Dub. Not all will understand its depth because to be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty.** | 2017-10-31T17:25:04 | 2017-10-31T15:26:39 | 163 | 80 |
[WP] A prophecy has foretold of two siblings who would be the ultimate forces of good and evil. Together, they could stop the warring nations and establish peace. One day, a woman gives birth to triplets. The first two wield the ancient powers. The last one does not. You are the third one. | When the arch-priest visited our home, he deemed my two siblings, the ultimate forces of good and evil; the ancient prophecy foretold in the old book reinforced this. As for me, well, he said I was an average child blessed with a small stature.
Growing up in the shadow of my brother and sister quickly grew annoying. Many travelers would visit our small cottage, showering them with gifts and riches. Worshiping them and begging for their forgiveness. Statues of the *chosen* ones were being erected all over our kingdom, and our world. Where was my statue?
I grew to spite my family. Mostly because they were so humble and perfect, my brother would always spend time with me and fend off my bullies. My sister healed my wounds and injuries, always with a bright smile and a loving heart. They were so damn perfect. This was all made much worse in the fact that we were triplets.
When we were born, my mother said my brother and sister came out of her together, holding hands and glowing in a golden aura. She figured she pushed out all that was in there, but there I came, crawling out gasping for air. I tumbled to the floor and rolled around in the dirt while my siblings literally floated to their bedding.
"Small child," the demon-witch said, interrupting my thoughts. "Do you wish to continue? Or do you have cold feet."
"Oh, I want to continue." I grabbed the blade of never-ending doom. "You promise this will work?"
The wicked witch grinned. "Your body will be the vessel of every fallen demon-witch. They will empower you with unmatchable power and a legion of demons. In return, all you must sacrifice is your eternal soul, for a brief life of conquering and slaying."
I gripped the icy steel. Held it to my chest. And stabbed.
The icy knife pierced my heart, infusing me with the wailing souls of the late demon-witches. Purple flames swirled and engulfed the pristine chapel we held the ritual in. The demon-witch that stood before me held her arms wide with the look of euphoria in her eyes. She disintegrated into ashes, her soul wailing into my body. All of the fire that surrounded me funneled into the wound I had manifested.
The chaos came to a stop in an instant. Dead silence lingered as a burnt page drifted to the ground. It was the ancient text of the old book. The lost page of the ancient prophecy. The words that depicted of a third child, who would rise and defeat her siblings, the ultimate forces of good and evil.
The roars of my demon army bellowed outside. I found a haunting smile on my pale face. My eyes were fiery with the power of a thousand demon-witches. A statue of my brother and sister stood before me, charred by the fire. With a swipe of my hand, the statue obliterated in a million pieces.
"The end is near," I hissed. "Brother and sister."
[r/AJHWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/AJHWriting) | "Zebbichia, you must eat!" Pushing seedy bread at your face your mother seems desperate, as always, to try to somehow use protein to turn you in to someone else, someone more like one of your siblings.
As you fight the bread away, and she seems to finally relent on feeding you, she begins on her daily ritual of trying to turn you into one of them.
" So what are you doing today, my little mortal boy? Any big plans? You know your sister said you could be general of the army of darkness if you would just give her a call..."
"Ma, I don't want to be a general in the army of darkness, okay?! I don't like all of that war stuff, you know that. I am going in to town today to get some of that new blue paint from Rafael, he said he would get some for me from town'.
She is disappointed again, and she hasn't even started on the white monk talk yet. You decide to try to escape before she can.
"Blue paint! Ugh with your blue paint! Your brother can speak to God, you know he had his change the colors of all of those stones for you, why didn't you ever use them to make blue paint? You think your brother bothers God for just anyone? It is ok wonder he won't hire you back as a chapel artist. Ungrateful. What are you going to paint if you aren't painting churches?!"
"Ma, I told you, I am not that kind of artist, okay? I don't want to paint churches!"
"So you are too good to paint churches, you want to just paint your naked women with their fruit, and break your Mama's heart?! Why you want me to die and be reborn to have to live at your sister's house? You know she doesn't make the tea I like!"
" Ma, come on, what do you want from me?"
"Just tell me you will go see your sister and ask her about the job, part time, and you can keep painting on the side"
Sensing she has already won she reverts from attack mode, and goes back to doddering. She tries to feed you a few more times before you are able to slip out to town.
Sometimes having siblings that are more successful than you is a real drag. | 2020-08-27T21:24:34 | 2020-08-27T20:59:31 | 363 | 126 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | I walked through the back allies, the worst ones in town, to get home from work. They were dirty, and stunk of things best ignored. If you could. But it didn't really bother me. My power wasn't flashy, but it worked when I needed it.
Four young men and two women came out from various hiding spots as I passed an intersection of six different allies. It had a fairly large open space, as this area wasn't a planned layout - the joke was this city was planned by wandering cows, but it was probably just how the swamp was filled in. One woman was sparking, seemingly not fully in control of her power, but she didn't seem bothered by it. She was either good at hiding her fear, or the thought of inflicting it on others was more enticing than the terror. The rest seemingly had better control, but I knew they wouldn't ambush someone else in this town where all the powers got sent unless at least a few were high tier.
Yeah, all the people who get powers get exiled. It seems everyone fears the different, I guess.
The scrawniest of the lot got in my face as the rest surrounded me. Given how fear caused powers, I figure he must have the strongest one. Bullied as a kid? Fairly common story. I once encountered someone with swirly based powers. I snorted, thinking of what manifestation wedgie based powers would take. He did not like THAT, certainly.
"If you give us all your money and cards, and your PIN, we'll at least let you live."
I sighed. Third time this month. I had hoped word had gotten out that bullying others had consequence's now. Well, maybe it had and they thought they were too strong to have problems. That kind of thinking has always backfired on people. The last place I trolled for criminals didn't take this much effort. It's hard being a 'superhero' in a town of powered villians.
"No. Go away. This is your only warning."
The group laughed. The scrawny ringleader leaned into my face and shoved his finger into my chest, probably emulating a past abuser. "Do you have a death wish or something, little girl?"
It's a bit cliché, but at five foot even, I do have a bit of a Napoleon complex. I triggered my power.
The woman who had been sparking suddenly screamed and started twitching. The other woman's clothes caught on fire, and she joined the noise, rolling on the ground ineffectively, her own power reigniting her as she extinguished the flames. The boy in front of me inflated - no, that's not quite right. His muscles started to grow, as he gained definition and a six pack that showed when his shirt ripped. He glanced down, startled, and then his eyes widened as his muscles went from growing impressive to growing out of control, his skin tearing from the uncontrolled growth. He backed away in terror. Another was surrounded in a pillar of water - fear of drowning, most likely. Another gained facepaint, white, and his clothes turned black.
He looked like he was screaming. No noise came from his mouth, however. A *fear of mimes? Really? How did THAT happen?* A red glow came from below one of the others, and blackened hands reached from cracks forming in the ground and started dragging him to, presumably, his own personal hell. The last one just had his clothes vanish. Another common one... But that probably meant a beating wasn't the only thing on the menu for them. He tried covering himself, and suddenly his hands were cuffed behind him, his own power forcing his exposure to the elements and prying eyes.
"How?..." He asked, trying to move behind a dumpster for cover. As his feet sunk into the ground, stopping him from moving, I started walking again. At least this group was unlikely to try anything ever again. None of them would be permanently harmed. That's not how my power worked. That wouldn't be cruel enough for it.
My dad was a history scholar, you see. He wrote several biographies of US presidents. And, naturally, I read them. I always took one speech to heart - it helped me get over my fear of my bullies, my terror at the prospect of losing my mom after my dad died - shortly after the powers were first granted to adults and none of them had control - and even the small, day to day fears a person has. Things could be a challenge, of course. But FDR had it right. There's only one thing to fear, isn't there? | “So what is your power?” The administrator says. Everyone has one all we know is they are made from our worst fear, once our worst fears are fully developed at around age 10 - 12.
“Well, I am not entirely sure. Sometimes things just happen. They tend to happen?” I say as to misdirect the conversation. For some context I have been at the center of many insane coincidental tragedies. Pretty much anyone who follows them knows my face.
However there are a few things. One no matter how many people test to see if I am lying or in anyway when asked if I intended for the tragedy to happen. They run all the tests and note that they have nothing to get me with.
When I leave I wave goodbye to the head chief. “See ya’ hopefully at a bar or diner or something. But we both know this will happen again. I don’t like it, but. It’s true. Can’t even keep me locked up, the boiler will blow breaking open the front door or something.” I don’t look back but I can feel it the chief is in a state almost laughing but you could tell. The melancholy in the air.
Outside there was a swarm of reporters. There were few familiar faces, he’s done this a million times before.
They asked all of the questions “what exactly happened?”, “why do you think you are walking free?” “Are you aware how suspicious it is to survive these situations multiple times in a row?”
I answer all of the questions as I always do. As neutrally as possible.
That night when I get home I feel my heart racing. Tears swell in my eyes as the emotional toll hits me. At first I couldn’t hold it in once I learned what I had done I was inconsolable for days. But after the fourth or fifth time, I almost started getting used to it. Of course the first few times happened when I was really young and I had no way of knowing what activating my powers felt like.
Today however, it’s different I onow the exact moment when I should confirm my surroundings to keep them their. If I had to count off of the top of my head then I’d say I’d stopped about 100 - 200 incidents. They almost happen in times right after my mental health jumps into the shitter as well.
As I rub my eyes I stare into the darkness behind my eyelids. “Okay count from 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Ok, Now you know you are here, your heart is beating And you are thinking you don’t feel any pain. Next the door behind you is attached and so is the floor. By extension the walls and everything below you. And since the walls also suport every floor above you they are still there as well. Everything in your apartment is still here. You saw the windows, none of them were broken or opened. Now, the building is still here, the cars out side are still here, since I don’t hear any pandemonium, everything should be here. Now,”
“OPEN YOUR EYES” I yell that every time, it always seems to help. It’s a good thing it can’t happen when I don’t notice my eyes ever close, because then waking up would be this whole ordeal. You probably want to know what I am afraid of and what it does. Well basically I have Optiohobia, the fear of opening your eyes. When I close them, I always get anxious that when I open them something important will just be gone. And when I do open them, everything
I don’t convince myself is truly there disappears like it never existed. I don’t know if they are turned into particles or simply erased or what. It’s why they could never get me, traces of my power on any object can’t exist because those objects would be gone. | 2022-05-14T23:12:34 | 2022-05-14T22:11:22 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| “I want to roll to invade them!”
“Uh, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. Of course. Just let me roll.”
“Fine. Roll.”
He rolls his 20 sided die across the table. It stops directly in front of the Dungeon Master, who looks down and smirks.
“Well. You go to invade Russia. You gather your troops and march right in. But you’re too stupid to realize you should never invade Russia in the winter.”
Hitler angrily looks over to his die. He sees the clearest image of a 1.
“Well hell. I’ve been rolling good the beginning of this campaign. What else could go wrong?” | 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 2018-05-29T07:54:52 | 51 | 36 |
[WP] A cure for the zombie infection has been found, and you are the first one to be turned back. However, there's an unexpected side effect: You now remember everything. | I remember everything. I am one of many who was cured of the Plague, and like my fellows I know everything I did during the years I was infected. Most people don't talk about their Plague memories. The things people have seen and done... It's easy to pick out one of the Cured in a crowd, because they have a haunted stare that hints at the horrors they are burdened with.
Most people don't talk about their Plague memories, and it's considered incredibly callous to ask. They might have killed and eaten their spouse, their children, dozens or even hundreds of other people. They would remember the sheer terror on their faces. The way they begged. The despair of trapped survivors knowing they were about to experience the most horrible end imaginable.
I don't talk about my Plague memories either. Neither have I taken advantage of the Plague-victim counseling and therapy system that's sprung up in our slowly recovering society. But the reason... Like I said, most people have eaten a loved one at the very least. I was bitten on my way walking to work and turned in just a few minutes. Sure, it was scary, but it was over quickly - it's what happened after that that compels my silence. After I was infected, I wandered around town for several hours. I heard voices in a shop and shuffled after them, desperate to ease my haze of hunger.
And then I got trapped in the public restroom. For six. Years.
I got out when an explosion tore the building in half, and was promptly tranq'd and Cured by a squad of survivors. They don't know I was stuck in the loo, only that I was in the building. Plenty of people get trapped while they're infected, but really? A public restroom for *six years*? Embarrassing. I can remember every minute I bumped around in there, running into the walls. Moaning. I can remember the graffiti and leaky sink and the disgusting toilet. Six years didn't make it any cleaner, either. And the kicker? No one else came into that building the entire time. I didn't even frighten anyone after I got stuck there. Just me, occasionally running into the lever on the toilet by accident and getting all riled up about the noise because my Plague-infested brain was slow as *shit*.
People think I don't talk about my Plague memories because of the trauma. I let them think that. | *Beep. Beep. Beep.*
They had taken his immortality. They had taken it gladly.
It was obvious why they had chosen him: his thin spindly figure, the blood splattered rags of a hospital gown.
*Easy to handle.* They had whispered. *Easy to catch. Just a child.*
When the purge had come, he had gone out into the world willingly. To feel the strength fill his delicate limbs. To never know death or pain again. He had even relished in the killings, to feast as he never had before, to be among his giant family. To feel powerful and part of something bigger.To run and not feel the seizing of his chest, to loose the feeling that he was wasting away. He hadn't a care in the world.
They had taken his godhood. They had taken his chance to live from him.
He said nothing. He bided his time. He knew how to play the part of a good patient, how to coin a nurse into giving him what he wanted, he had spent years before *the gift* perfecting this skill. It took no time at all for the restraints to be removed, the fearful whispers became welcoming smiles.
And he was adored. They fawned over him.
It was their pride that was their undoing. They stopped watching him, little false gods believing their creation was perfect. When he killed the guard and opened the gate, breaking the winch system - he knew he was doing the right thing. They would never know fear again. They would feel strength as never before.
Immortality awaits us all.
Leukemia would never claim him. | 2014-07-27T17:41:09 | 2014-07-27T13:03:56 | 65 | 30 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | “So, Anthony. You were born in space?”
“Yes. My mom met my d –“
“I’m a doctor, not your biographer.”
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. It’s just been a long day. I just spent the last 8 hours recreating all my records from nothing because little Jimmy decided now was the time to lose control of his powers.”
“He…?”
“He was born near a volcano,” the doctor replied bluntly.
“Oh,” I said stupidly.
I knew enough about our powers to know what that meant.
31 years ago, an individual called John Timens developed superpowers. He had gained the ability of flight. It was a pretty mild and non-destruction ability. It was fortunate: his case was widely studied and it was decided that Timens was not a threat to humankind. Not long after, more and more individuals were born with superpowers.
We started to notice a pattern: the powers were based on their place of birth. Born out at sea? You’ll develop superpowers like underwater breathing or the ability to control water.
Born out at a volcano? Well, the only possibility was to develop lava or fire-based powers.
“Do you feel anything?” the doctor asked.
“Not particularly. I mean, what powers would I develop? The power to create vacuums? The power *to suck*?”
He laughed.
“I don’t know. My job has shifted over the years from healthcare to predicting what superpowers teenagers like you would develop, but I really don’t know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Concentrate. Try to feel it in you.”
“Wow, that’s vague.”
He laughed again.
“I don’t have powers, so I can’t tell you what – wait, you know what? I haven’t tried this before, but it might work…”
He turned towards the door behind him, slid it open and shouted into it.
“Hey, ALICE! Come out here for a moment!”
“Who’s Alice?”
“She’s my nurse. She also has powers.”
“Aaand… her power is to discover powers?”
“Her power is of molecular disintegration, *but* she can describe to you what your powers should feel like.”
“Molecular… disintegration? How does that even work? She was born near a molecule?”
“You can ask her yourself.”
He stood up and beckoned a 30s-looking lady over. She was slightly shorter than I was, and looked a little bored. Her bob-hair looked like they defied gravity. I choked back a laughter.
I shook her hands and introduced myself, before diving straight into my question.
“Molecular disintegration?”
“Here.”
She placed one of the doctor’s pens on the table, joined the index finger and thumb of both her hands together to form a triangle, then closed her eyes. Right before my eyes, the pen disintegrated. It looked as though it just turned into dust.
“Wha? Wow! Where were you born?”
“Near a molecule.”
I gave her a puzzled look.
“Nah,” she laughed. “I heard you say it. I was born in a molecular lab.”
“Okay…” I said slowly. It still didn’t make much sense, but I just rolled with it. Molecules are everywhere. Just because a lab is designated for experimenting with things on a molecular level, it’s a “molecular lab?”
“Try this. Close your eyes and picture a purple background. Now, visualize a red and a blue dot spiraling in the center of your vision. The dots should be a decently big size. The dots are slowly developing their own streaks of light. Now, they’re spiraling quicker and quicker and they’re turning into an orange mass of colour.”
“Okay… and? I don’t feel anything.”
“Whatever colours you just visualized should be what you see when you’re concentrating on using your powers. As you can imagine, everyone’s imagined colour will be different.”
“Alright,” I said. This is not making any sense whatsoever. But none of this powers thing should anyway.
“Now, visualize the colour and concentrate on an object. Any hand gestures that you think may help are fine. Here, try this pen. Let’s put it on the floor.”
“Hey, Alice! You’re paying for those pens!” the doctor shouted from behind me.
I did as she said. I visualized the purple background, the two dots, and the blob of orange. I held out one hand and pointed it in the general direction of the pen. Suddenly, the colours disappeared.
I opened my eyes. “Wha?” I blurted out, confused at what just happened. The pen was gone.
“Hey, where’s the pen?”
“So, Anthony,” the doctor started. “I think you somehow developed the power over the space continuum. Alice and I were observing. The pen simply ceased to exist.”
I gave a confused look. That sounded incredibly dangerous and nonsensical.
“Because I was born in space?”
“You know… I believe it’s not actually where you were born that matters,” the doctor explained, “But what you understand it to be. You can believe that were born in the middle of the sea right now, and you will develop powers related to the sea. Of course, if you believe that space is an ocean, your powers that we term “sea-related” won’t actually be relating to water, because your understanding of the sea is already fundamentally different.”
“What you’re saying is, it doesn’t matter where we were born, but what we associate our birthplace with?”
“Yes.”
“Remember my molecular disintegration?” Alice piped up. “Now that the doctor mentioned it, I think it fits the pattern for my powers. Because the labs were already associated with the idea of molecules, and I knew about that, I developed powers related to it.”
“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we have reasons to believe your powers are incredibly dangerous, so we’ll be letting you run a few more, um, special tests.”
The way he emphasized “special” wasn’t lost on me. I started visualizing the colours again, and pointed it at the doctor.
“Wait! What are yo –“ and the colours disappeared.
“Anthony,” Alice said. “That was uncalled for.”
“You don’t seem shocked. Why?”
“I did that to my own doctor.”
| My life was an accident. A bad accident. So bad that my existence had to be kept a secret.
My parents you two people that should not have been together. They were two of seven astronauts that were sent to Mars. The first astronauts to ever venture beyond the moon. They were seen as heroes for their "bravery" and "service to their country", but I only think that most of them were just doing it for the fame. My mother and my father did met prior to their last day on Earth, but they had a rough relationship. They were the people that got along least well in the whole group. But when they were stationed on Mars, they fell in love. Seven weeks before they were set to leave Mars, their suits detected another anomaly in my mother's suit. It was me. They started panicking. They couldn't have me, they were supposed to be doing groundbreaking scientific work! So they only told the other crew members and they all agreed to keep it quiet.
The trip back to Earth was a long one. My mother birthed me and I spent my infant hood and one toddler year on that space station. My mother told me that it is why I have my power, is because I was on the space station so long, but I don't believe them. My mother and father were both "Natívs" a word derived from the word "native". It describes when the person is born and they happen to exhibit the "powers" of their birth environment. My dad was born in the African rainforests on a European exploration to try and find a cure for some disease. My mother was born on the coast of Japan, so she has the power of the ocean. She would never demonstrate her power to me, it was almost like she was ashamed. My father had the power to control plants and the uncanny power over animals. Anyways, I am getting off track. My mother did not care if I was out and about on the space craft. It was truly like a home to me, but then everything turned sour when we were touching down on earth. In the last hours of being in space, my mom was frantically going over the plan with the other crew members, telling them to form a circle around her to not let me show while I was being carried in her large space suit helmet. Everyone agreed and did just that as they were walking. They managed to get out of there safe and my mother immediately took me back to her home in Ireland. My family was from very different backgrounds and ethnicities, but apparently it was weird to people to see a half Asian girl who talked in an Irish accent. My mother and father named me Nova. They always said that it fit because I was born as they were parallel to a super nova while headed back to Earth when I was born. When on Earth, they passed me for a normal child, and for some reason, people never asked questions. As I was growing up, my father would tell me the stories of when a new power of Natív was discovered. They horrified me to the core, so much so when I started displaying signs of a power, I didn't even tell my parents. One day, my mother walked in on me making a miniature star. She told me that she was far from mad at me, she was proud even. But she told me that I couldn't speak of this to anyone outside of our family. One night I heard her fighting with my dad because of it. She was telling him that we can never tell anyone, and he was telling her that people aren't like that anymore and that we should not just hide me away for the rest of my life. Eventually, my mom won.
Over the years I learned to act normal and fine tune my powers. Other children of my kind were sent to different schools than the other children, the "Norms". And the adult Natívs were usually sent to do better work than the Norms. The Natív children were taught in their classes about how to control their powers, but I didn't have an actual teacher. My mom and dad taught me everything they knew, but that wasn't enough. I started teaching myself. I didn't mean to, but I got destructive. It got to the point to where using my powers got banned in the house. My mother was furious when she walked into my room to see me spinning a miniature galaxy over my head. I couldn't sleep one night because the clouds were covering the stars, so I mad my own. I created a small black hole, the size of the hole in a straw, then I spun it like a top. Stars spiraled out into a galaxy formation. That made me feel better, but my mother walked in as I was falling asleep. My mom and dad got in another huge fight that night. This was my life. A big ball of secrets and nasty fights.
It continued this way for the rest of my teenage years and continued into my adult hood. One day, I was walking down the street, almost to my home, when things got rapidly darker. The colours in the sky made it look as though it was dusk, but it was 11:54 in the morning. I looked up to the sun, only to see that the sun had become a darker orange colour. I knew what was happening to the sun, I could feel it. A sickening feeling in my chest. It felt like something was caught, but I knew there wasn't. I sprinted home. I could feel that I could do something about it. That the universe wanted me to do something about it.
I had to fix the sun. | 2017-04-15T00:14:42 | 2017-04-14T21:11:18 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] By Wizard Law, in order to learn a new skill, wizards are required to be apprenticed to a more experienced master. You, a barely trained journeyman fire mage, just took on an apprentice: a two-hundred-year-old Grandmaster Water Magic Lord. | Nelko strode into the King's Council Room and took his seat beside Lord Austin of the Legions. As they waited for the King, Nelko gazed around the room, meeting eyes with Holy Priestess Marianne, Admiral Seaborn of the Nine Fleets, and fourteen other titans of Daringrad. They looked back at him, beholding him as their august peer. If only they knew he was a fraud.
Nelko was no cheat. He had trained rigorously for eleven years to finally find his specialization as a fire mage. He knew the Wizarding Codes. His master had Tested him and deemed him worthy. Just, well... all those things happened a mere four days ago.
Grandmaster Magic Lord Aquadan leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were the only ones which bore suspicion. "Journeyman," he called out, "tell us of your Test."
Nelko gulped. His Test had been a joke - he had merely set a candle aflame. Nothing like the immense fireballs his Master often summoned, nor the fountains of magma wielded by the Ancient Fire Mages in the War of Survival. His throat parched in fear of answering.
"Now now Aquadan," interjected High Astronomer Cosmere, sparing Nelko, "I'm sure Mage Nelko's Test is a grand tale; let him tell it at a moment of his choosing."
"Admiral Seaborn," Aquadan pressed on, "have any skippers brought reports of fiery destruction?"
"Aquadan," Admiral Seaborn protested, "the Test could easily have happened inland. Fire is best wrought away from the coast - the riviera is where people live, and the ocean prevents escape better than it helps fight against flame."
Aquadan rounded on Lord Austin. "Any reports from inland?"
"I'm sure Mage Nelko will reveal his capabilities in due course" said Lord Austin.
"I can show you now" Nelko timidly announced. He saw no way around his current predicament; he might as well reveal his fraudulency and be gone from this place.
The room went silent.
"YOU'LL WHAT??" hollered Aquadan, jumping to his feet. The sunlight rapidly faded from the room as a thundercloud materialized across the clear blue sky.
"Aquadan, calm yourself!" High Priestess Marianne yelled. The shiver in her timbre announced a clear and different message: terror.
"If he would willingly summon fire here, then I must be ready to drown him out!" Aquadan bellowed in response, as sheets of rain fell like a waterfall upon the palace grounds.
Everyone began yelling. Then, the doors to the Council Room burst open, revealing the King. His steady demeanor and powerful presence calmed the room. High Priestess Marianne stepped down from the tabletop, and Grandmaster Aquadan relented the river he'd summoned from the sky.
"Grandmaster Mage Nelko" announced the King, "I would indeed like a demonstration."
"My liege, this is most unwise," protested Aquadan.
"Enough" said the King. "Grandmaster Mage Nelko, if you would, please."
Nelko stood in frozen shock, all eyes on him. Grandmaster? A demonstration of his feeble powers? Certainly he would be laughed out of the Council Room immediately, but he saw no other way out of the present situation.
Nelko looked to the chandelier above, and with a gentle exhale lit her candles. The room, darkened by the storm, was bathed in a soft glow.
The room went still.
"What?" whispered Aquadan.
Nelko looked to Aquadan, and saw in his eyes... awe?
"Impossible" whispered High Priestess Marianne. "Magic is immensely powerful - how did he suppress so much of it?"
Aquadan dropped to his knees, the dim candlelight finally being drowned out by the sun's rays now piercing through the immense stormcloud. "Teach me, master." | "Good morning Mr Dale. You are now my apprentice in fire magic"
"you forgot my title lad"
"No I am not, I am your teacher now, I might be a journeyman, but you are below me now, not a grandmaster. Call me teacher Watt"
"Grr.. ok fine, good morning teacher Watt"
"Great, now let's start with our first lesson. Tell me how much fire magic you can do right now?"
"I can do a spark, it seems I could not make anything bigger than a spark. It feels like my attunement towards water makes me unable to produce fire."
"Interesting, can you produce the spark to me?"
"Ok"
Mr Dale tried to use mana to fuel the fire magic but only spark comes out
"Hmm that is not even level 1 spark , more like level 0." Can you increase the your mana ouput?"
Mr Dale used massive amount of mana that made him glow, but at the end, only sparks produced
"Oh wow, I don't think I have that much mana right now, and yet you only produce a spark. In some sense that is amazing. To be honest, I don't think you have talent in fire magic."
"Well, maybe you cannot find the answer about my problem as you are only a journeyman, I will look for another teacher then."
"Just wait a minute, you asked for a teacher and I will try my best to help you. You know, while I am a journeyman in fire magic, I also learned an ancient art, people call it science. It is an art from long lost civilization."
"Bah, what is good about science? I read it before. They are just a bunch of things with very big limitations. We can recreate science with magic. That is why it was forgotten"
"Not really Mr Dale. Do you know that science can help you to develop your fire magic?"
"You really mean it?"
"Yes I mean it"
"Then please teach me teacher Watt"
"Good, now create drunken drinks"
"Why drunken drinks? You want to drink this early in the morning?"
"No, just watch"
Mr Dale summoned water and then turned it into drunken drinks. This is why no one bother with science anymore. Water can be turned into any kind of drinks, sweet drinks, drinks with bubble, or drunken drinks. No need to process anything anymore.
"Now Mr Dale, throw it at that dummy test over there"
Mr Dale threw it, "and?"
"Use your spark to that dummy"
Mr Dale skeptical about it, but he did it anyway, suddenly the dummy burned brightly
"What in the name of magic is this? Why my spark turns into big flame?"
"Science Mr Dale. Drunken drinks has property that can makes flame bigger, even your spark will turn into big flame depending how many drunken drink you pour. Now, since you are grandmaster in water, it will not be hard for you to produce those drunken drinks in massive amount and create sea of flame from it."
"Amazing teacher Watt, science is amazing"
After this lesson, grandmaster Dale now becomes famous flame master and a chef, since any monster he killed becomes delicacy, the burned drunken drinks enhance the flavour of the meat. | 2022-05-30T11:34:19 | 2022-05-30T10:15:54 | 74 | 26 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "Kinda short for a knight, aren't you?"
The words hung in the air. Sir Gregory was taken aback. He was expecting the princess to be excited to see him or terrified of the dragon. Condescension was an emotion he never entertained.
"Oh Gods, you reek. No, this won't do. If you wish to rescue me *properly* I insist you go have a bath." She wrinkled her nose and took a step back, disgust on her face.
"Your Highness, this isn't the time. The dragon is still about-"
"The dragon has been here seven years. I'm sure she can wait until you're presentable. I mean *really*. How would you feel if you opened that door and found a centaur here? Because you smell like a centaur." The princess waived her hand dismissively. "The baths are down the hall to the right. I have left some mint on the vanity in case you don't want your first kiss to cause me to vomit."
Sir Gregory flustered. "I.. Uh.. Alright."
"Would you like a new suit of armor? That looks really ratty?"
"This was my grandfather's armor!"
"Looks like he inherited it too."
"That does it!" Sir Gregory took off his helm and threw it to the floor with a loud clang. "I came here through driving rain and scorching deserts! I endured countless hardships just to come here for *you*! I did this all for you. You should have the courtesy to show me some respect."
"You're some rich asshole who thinks I'll suck your dick and make you king just because you killed a, sorry, because you *intend* to kill a dragon. I didn't ask you to come here stinking of horse and threatening to kill the only friend I have had for seven years."
"You know what? I don't have to deal with this shit." Sir Gregory's voice broke as tears welled in his eyes. He picked up and put his helmet back on. "I'm a great knight. There are lots of women at court who would love to marry me." He started to leave, then turned in the doorway. "And your kingdom is shit anyway. Wench!"
"Don't let the porticulus hit your ass on the way out!"
"Arrgh!" He screamed as he stormed off muttering under his breath. "Stupid wench. Probably isn't even a virgin. I'm a nice knight. I wanted to rescue her. Doesn't that mean anything?" As promised the porticulus slams shut right behind him. The drawbridge starts to rise as he nears the end, forcing him to jump the last step.
"Gods damn it!" He curses, turning to yell back at the keep. "When you are old and ugly and alone you will look back at this day as the biggest mistake of your life!"
"At least I'm not old and ugly now!" The princess yelled down from a window.
"I'm not old I'm twenty seven!"
"I bet you still live with your parents."
"Fuck you," Sir Gregory turns and starts storming off toward a tree with a short length of rope tied to it. He turns back and yells. "Where is my horse!?"
"I don't know where your stupid horse is. Where is my dragon?"
"I didn't even see your dragon." He points at the princess. "If your dragon ate my horse you owe me a horse!"
"If my dragon got sick eating your stinking horse you owe me a dragon."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not buying you a dragon."
"Then I'm not buying you a horse."
"Screw this. I'm going back to court and I'm telling everyone you're a dragon's wench and you'll never get rescued!"
"Have a pleasant walk," the princess called in a sing-song voice.
"Fuck you!!" | He opened the wooden door with a long drawn out squeak. In his hand a touch rose up illuminating the room and stretching his shadow behind him like taffy. He gazed at the silhouette laying in a bed decorated in fine silks, the moon outlining the perfect beauty of Princess Marianna.
"Alas my Lady! I have" *Clonk!* he stopped abruptly to a thick whack on his head, his helmet rang in his ears. He turned around to find a girl, dressed in a light gown, holding a chair.
"Princess wait" *Clonk* "I am your prin..." *Bang* "I'm trying to slay the..." *Clang* "Will you just sto.." *Bonk*
As the princess berated the knight with her chair a tail slithered into the room, a long scaly tail, a very very long and large scaly tail. the princess dropped the chair as the knight held his hands to his helmed dazed. She leaned back jumped into the air and at the same time the tail and her feat lashed out at the prince, pushing him over the bed and out the window. *clonk clang bonk bing* the knight tumbled down the side of the castle, *SPLOOSH!* and into the water. The princess walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets, revealing a couple of pillows and two watermelons stuffed at the top. "Knights are so stupid huh Ms. V" she turned around and the tail and her hand met in the hair with a quick *THWAK!*
The princess ran down the stairs following the dragons tail and into a large room that was once used as a dinner hall when the castle was new. now it set abandoned for years, covered in dust and in the center of it lay a large red scaly dragon.
"I'm just so sick of it Ms. V" Marianna said to the dragon. "It's like all anyone ever sees in me is, the princess, helpless little Marianna, maybe she will grow up and make a great casserole some day for a Handsom prince" she mocked as she did her best impression of a Nobel man. "Do you have any idea what it is like for people to judge you on your outside and never want to get to know the real you?" she questioned the dragon. The dragon raised her head to agree with a nod but The princess cut her off. "Off course not Ms. V, you're beautiful and caring." She hugged the dragon wrapping her arms around one of her giant scaly legs. "Now let's get to work."
The Princess and the dragon stayed up all night, in fact, most nights, building a stage, writing scripts. She was not destined to be a princess, and Ms. V. Was not destined to be slain in search of a princess. No. They were going to be the best play writers in the world. | 2019-01-09T11:59:29 | 2019-01-09T08:21:48 | 158 | 28 |
[WP] A child is born with a condition that doctors describe not as a deformity, but as a form of evolution. | When Adam was born, he didn’t cry. He didn’t make a sound. Thank god Pauline was too deep in an epidural haze to notice as the nurses scrambled, yelling for doctors, prepping for surgery.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Adam wasn’t our first child. We started trying for a baby three years ago. After a few miscarriages, consultations, a stillbirth, tears, cancelled orders and returned presents, we had given up. We had careers. I had been transferred to New York. Family life was put on hold.
Then, seven months ago Pauline missed her period. The obstetrician was shocked at how quickly he developed. He looked so big in the sonogram. Our little Adam. The improbable one. It was a strange sort of hope. Something we had wanted for years came about at such an unexpected time. It was almost better this way. He was our little miracle.
Now, as I was ushered out of the delivery room, Pauline and Adam fading away as the incubator sat ready for transferring, I had to construct the future in my head. Fucking pessimism. My mom was premature, she was fine. I’d hoped Adam would be too. I felt a strange sense of confusion as I glanced out at Adam. It felt detached. Look at how big he was though. Two months premature my ass.
The doctor walked in, tie askew, with an acorn shaped coffee stain on just below the heart. A sheepish smile across his dark face. A hastily-printed visitors tag, with a foreign, hard to pronounce name, even in my head.
“Would you like to see your son?” he asked. I was up before he could finish speaking.
Even outside the door, I felt a sort of energy, indescribable yet palpable. There were three nurses, clutching tissues, almost involuntary smiles on their faces. I looked at Adam, healthy, seven pound, eight ounce, baby Adam. He met my eyes, it felt like he was gazing through me.
From when I was young, I never really had a sense of belonging anywhere. That’s not to say I didn’t have friends. It’s just that, with a few exceptions, beyond say, a group of three, things felt unnatural, forced. I could be replaced, at work, in a group of friends. Nothing was permanent, and it was hard to face. I’d had commitment issues, paranoia over replacement. Pauline was my first, and hopefully only intimate relationship. She’d helped me through so much.
As Adam stared past me, in a manner unlike a newborn, I felt something.
I know fatherhood is special, transformative, but this was unlike anything I could have imagined. A visceral reaction washed over me. I knew what love is, I would die for Pauline, yet there was no way I had ever felt such a strong sense of connectedness like this before.
I looked around the room. Everyone seemed overwhelmed with emotion. I’d always mocked Pauline for getting overwhelmed with emotion at times, and yet, this…this was understandable in an odd sense. Something had come over the room. It was curious.
I looked back at Adam. I put my hands out to hold him as Pauline handed him over. He looked at me again.
*Daddy!* Something in my head sounded out.
I almost dropped him. I looked around, no one else had heard it. It was unnerving. The word was understood in my head, but it felt primitive, intrinsic. The idea of fatherhood. That’s what it was. I nodded at Adam and smiled.
“I’m sorry to say Mr. Walker, but we believe that your son is mute,” the specialist said duly. “His vocal chords never developed fully.”
I looked over at Pauline. Did she have any idea what I had heard? Is that even the proper term for it? Her face barely hid a cautious smile as the nurses reluctantly filed out of the room. She seemed unfazed by the news. She must know.
He was our little miracle. | "Well, it is certainly peculiar isn't it..."
"It's not an "it" it's a child, and don't let the mother hear you call him "peculiar"
Two doctors in white lab coats face a glass window on the other side is swaddle of blue blankets laying softly in a crib. One doctor is young man just donning his doctor's coat for the first time, brown hair in a messy array of spikes that had to have been planned to look so suiting on him. The other doctor wears his graying hair short and cropped in a neat pile, his lined with the weight of his years.
"Well what do we call it, not the baby the disorder. I've never even heard of this before." the young doctor said.
"To my knowledge it has never happened before, a specialist is coming in from Dallas and will be here by the end of the week. However, this might not be something we should remove." the lines on the doctor's face becoming thicker as he loses himself in thought.
"We shouldn't remove it? but that is going to be a hard life with those things on it. Would there be a complication if we tried?"
"Three in fact, one I'm not to giddy about putting a newborn into surgery that isn't correcting something life threatening. Two, those "things" are uncharacteristically well formed I'd bet two weeks vacation that some major arteries are running through there, especially with the bone structure supporting them. Thirdly, the mother doesn't want them removed."
"What! Why wouldn't she? Those are going to affect the child everyday, you can't exactly hide them. Day one and already doomed to never live a normal day."
"Well I'm inclined to agree with the mother on this. They are twitching just as much as any other part of him, I mean it might not even be a disorder. Perhaps just a mutation..."
"Do mutations generally start with this large of a step? I mean, You even said they are really well formed... Isn't evolution more of baby steps?"
"This is the first time I've witnessed such a large step, yes. Personally though this is the only step I have witnessed that I can definitely say evolution."
"Won't the government want to dissect him and study him? is he safe in a public hospital?"
"No" the old doctor said while suppressing a laugh "No, I doubt the government would step in and attempt to vivisect a live American Child. Do you think this is a comic book doctor? The most they will do is maybe attempt a glance at the medical files leading up to the birth and any examinations afterwards."
Silence fills in between the doctors as the baby before them wakes and begins to cry. A door opens to the babies and a nurse rushes through to start comforting the baby. the blue swaddling falls from the babies back and reveals to large flat wings. The wings are dotted with what looks to be feathers beginning to sprout like flowers after a long winter.
The younger doctor begins again "This child will never have a normal life... you know this right?"
"Yes" the older doctor says "not one normal day, I heard you. No everyday this child has will be extraordinary."
EDIT: Format | 2014-04-11T13:06:39 | 2014-04-11T11:58:32 | 145 | 62 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute. | "I know you like strawberries, but.... *that* much?"
He stared at the humongous mountain of fruit. The bottom ones were being crushed by the upper ones, and oozed their sweet juices onto the highway. The cars tried to drive around the giant pile of fructose, but it was taking up just *too* much space, including the sidewalks, and there was none left around it.
In response, the girl awkwardly looked away. She tried to explain herself, but all that came out was a mumble.
"You know that you likely buried at least twenty people alive under all those strawberries, right?" he asked her.
She nodded, still looking away.
"...how again did you get your powers? Did you suddenly want to solve the World Hunger, or you like strawberries more than I thought, or...?"
"No," she quietly interrupted, "they are sweet, sure, but..." She paused, and took several deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice *very* small:
^^"...I ^^just ^^*really* ^^dislike ^^it ^^when ^^people ^^forget ^^to ^^use ^^their ^^fucking ^^blinkers..." | 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T03:51:32 | 4,320 | 429 |
[WP] You design a sensor that can detect probabilities of catching diseases from eating or drinking stuff. One day, your device detects "100% of catching ancient curse" from the seemingly harmless free samples provided by a woman in a supermarket. | It was just another work day, I was standing around in the food section at Walmart, giving out free samples of some new paleo bacon, when some weirdo walked over and started scanning my samples with his smartphone.
"Taking pictures for Instagram?" I asked. He looked up at me through his large glasses.
"No, actually," he said. He held up his smartphone and pointed to some sort of small device plugged into the headphone jack. "This is actually the prototype of something I'm working on. It can detect mold and bacteria in food to make sure it's safe to eat."
"Oh really?" I said, not sure if I was supposed to sound impressed or not. "What's it called?"
He blushed slightly. "Well, its test name is currently the Super Sniffer 5000…."
I snorted out loud. "Yeah, you're probably going to have to come up with a better name than that."
"I know," he sighed. "I'm not that great at coming up with names."
I thought he was going to be smooth and lead into a question asking for my name, but instead he looked back down at his phone. It was vibrating and giving off an annoying alarm, as if he was getting a call. He squinted in confusion.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I think there must be a bug or something." He shut off the alarm and held it over another slice of bacon. "Let me try this one." He waited a second, then the same alert and vibration came back, along with his perplexed expression.
"Is there something wrong with my paleo bacon?" I asked.
"You tell me," he said. He flipped his phone around and I read what was on the screen, flashing red in big, bold letters: "100% chance of catching ancient curse."
I stifled a laugh. "Is this a joke?"
"It shouldn't be," he said. "I worked with doctors to input all the data. It should be accurate."
"And do you usually get 'ancient curse disease' when you scan things?"
"No. I mean, sometimes you get e-coli or salmonella or whatever, but I've never even heard of this. What's in this bacon anyway?"
I picked up a box of product and handed it to him. He flipped over to the back and started reading the ingredients and company history.
"I mean," I said with a shrug, "it's paleo, right? It has to be good for you."
He shook his head and held the back of the package up to me, pointing to the company history. "Read this."
I looked it over. Something about valuing freshness, combating obesity, blah, blah, blah, then at the end, there was a paragraph that caught me eye.
"Pete's Paleo Bacon is one-hundred percent paleo, even more than the competitors. At Pete's, we're not satisfied simply using ingredients that were available during ancient times, we follow an ancient cookbook discovered in a pit and faithfully translated. We prepare all our food products the exact same way they were done thousands of years ago, including all the necessary chants and sacrifices."
I looked back at the man whose face was now white with terror. "I don't know how they cooked this bacon, but I'm guessing it involved something sinister."
I glanced down at the bacon, then looked back up at him. I popped one of the free samples in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
"Are you crazy?" he shouted. "That meat… it's cursed!"
I shrugged. "Buddy, I work at Walmart. I'm already cursed."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.twitch.tv/scottwritesstuff/) Twitch stream. | Is it wrong? Maybe. I don't really know. What I am sure of is that no one comes down anymore. Not in centuries. It's lonely - devastatingly lonely. And that's not fair at all.
I hand out a paper sample cup. This time to a mother and the toddler in her arms. She takes a sip and then lets him try. He smiles. He likes it. There's nothing wrong with that.
"Have another," I say, "Lots of good vitamins, and it's all natural." They accept and stroll along. They're exactly the sort of people I hoped to meet. Nice little families living nice ordinary lives.
"Very floral." A man downs a cup. Then another, without asking.
"Like a little punch of springtime!" I say. Pink slush drips from the corner of his mouth and falls to the floor. He's not the best addition, but maybe that'll keep things interesting. Some oddballs in the mix. Keeps the tension. "The mix we use is in aisle 12, if you'd like to take some home."
He shuffles on. I restock my sample tray. Straighten my hat and my apron. A younger man approaches. He seems nice enough. "Free sample? Fresh made smoothie."
He takes a cup without a word, and passes it under a little device. Bigger than a cell phone, but with a very small screen. He frowns at the words that appear there and sets the cup down. Looks up at me. "What is this?"
"Fresh made smoothie." I just said that. He flips the device so that the screen is facing me. In blocky black letters: 100% Probability of Ancient Curse. He's silent.
"This product is FDA approved." I pull the tray away from him. Creepy kid with a weird machine. I don't want his company at all.
"Who are you?" he asks.
I smile and point to the name-tag on my uniform. Sophie. Close enough. Like I owe him an answer. I didn't get this degrading job to take existential questions. Bigger things to do.
"Free sample?" I pick a cup and hand it to him. From the other batch. Maybe that'll move him along.
He passes it under his machine again. I watch as the words form. No curse this time - just another warning. One that's a little more mundane.
His eyes narrow. They pass over me and then back to the little cup. Was it just a fluke? Well, no. But let him think it was.
"No thanks," he says, "I'm allergic to pomegranates."
"That's a shame," I say. He turns to go. He'll be back. I'll be careful around him. "They're my favorite." | 2018-02-08T19:17:25 | 2018-02-08T19:10:40 | 831 | 107 |
[WP] After a hard intense labor your son is finally born. Just when you think you can breathe easy the doctor holds him up to reveal a baby with impossible spiky multi-colored hair. Gravely the doctor informs, “I’m sorry but it seems your son is the main protagonist.” | “I’m sorry but it seems your son is the main protagonist.”
My mum told me that the doctor just blurted it out, no regard for her feelings or the gravity of the situation.
I guess that the gravity of the situation kinda threw her out. Protagonists are a big deal. Our destiny seems to lead us down pathways that are just precluded to normal people, and we are of all different kinds. Heroes, villains, comical, sport, romantic, tragic... Everything that you can imagine, any kind of story. Everything needs a protagonist, doesn't it? Except that I don't really care about that stuff.
I know, I know, not very original. Blah blah blah, destiny, blah blah responsibility, blah blah cliché. See, it's not only the fact that being a protagonist seems like a huge effort, it is also the fact that a tragic backstory is almost mandatory for the role. And I love my parents, I want them alive and well for as long as possible. So, when I was a kid, I decided to actively avoid all of destiny hints.
My friends picked up a collectable card game? Never played it with them.
We explored a cave with school, I did not pick up that weird sword that nobody else seemed to notice.
I am starting to be a bit worried though. I happened to casually notice my neighbor getting changed in her room through my window. She is about my age, and just moved in the house with her family. She noticed and screamed at me.
And tomorrow I will start high school... | I felt the fear sink in right away. No. First I get pregnant as a man, then this. I never thought it could happen to me. You watch the documentaries and think this couldn't happen to me, but here I was with a starry eyed glowing child, his blue hair standing straight up. It all goes racing through my head at once, why me? How often will I die only to come back? How often will I endure the pain of losing a child? Will it be a simple slice of life or will the world as I know it cease to exist? Will I be the absent father character? I can feel the camera slipping from me to my child. It is beginning. I can hear the opening music. I can't fight.....the title card. | 2018-08-21T06:46:32 | 2018-08-21T06:37:28 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | ACTION REPORT
Date: 4301.51.2
Reporting Officer: Flormat Snikker, Tricounsel, Fourth Armada
Subject: Sol 3 Conflict, Withdrawal
Initial skirmishes were wildly successful. The natives were woefully unprepared for combat. After the customary challenges were issued, our champions were sent forth from each ship to do single combat. In most instances, they were able to immediately slaughter the opposing champion. Many natives failed to abide by the Rules of Challenge and engaged our champions in large numbers. Ultimately, surviving champions were called back to their ships to await formal surrender.
No formal surrender was provided. The natives' primitive and incomprehensible communication attempts ceased. Shortly following, they used what we believed to be mining explosives to destroy a number of our ships. Faced with dishonorable betrayal, the full armada was landed and our forces deployed.
Resident xenologist Rather Bellow has suggested that the native population lacks any sense of honorable combat due to a state of near-anarchy that seems to have existed for multiple lifetimes on their planet. Lacking systems of honorable resolution, they developed fearsome weapons which propel metal and explosives over significant distances.
Losses were too severe to fully report in this document. Provided is an account of one engagement:
Wing 5, Division 43 was tasked with capturing a population center and pacifying the locals. 18,000 armored troops were deployed in full close-quarters gear. The division engaged a significantly smaller forced that was entrenched on the outskirts of the population center. A charge was organized. 500 spearmen attempted to advance to within throwing distance. Launched explosives resulted in casualty rates exceeding 80%. The entrenched troops advanced on the division's position and pressed the engagement. Their superior range resulted in a total inability to respond. Any attempt to muster a counteroffensive was obliterated.
When a full retreat was ordered, the division reported an awful truth: they arm their vehicles. Our soldiers were easily able to outpace theirs, but were overtaken by monstrous armored vehicles with devastating weaponry. Division 43 was a near-complete loss.
Even those troops who escaped to carrier ships were not safe. As with their ground vehicles, their aircraft possess fighting capabilities. Carriers were destroyed mid-air.
The armada was forced into total withdrawal of the system when it became apparent that the natives had taken control of multiple carriers and landed them on several launch ships. My Tricounsel counterparts reported fighting on several vessels before going silent.
Total losses are estimated at 5 launch ships and their entire crew and complement, an additional 87 carrier ships and their divisions, and approximately 510,000 soldiers beyond those losses.
Under normal circumstances, custom dictates I give up my life in penance for this failure. I request a deferment to court martial to determine whether the loss is due to the inappropriate warfare as conducted by the natives of Sol 3.
ADDENDUM:
Shortly after transmitting the summary report, long-range scans detected four of the five launch ships on a home-bound trajectory. It is with great relief that I report that our losses might not have been nearly as severe as initially reported. | It's the 16th of June and just like something straight out of sci-fi, alien lifeforms are invading planet Earth.
They came to our planet in mechanized horse carriages, dozens and dozens of them in fleets of flying horse carriages, without the horses.
People are whispering rumors to each other on the streets about the possibilities and whether or not this could be the extinction of mankind as they gaze at the sky and the descending alien carriages.
As they aliens disembark from their carriages a group of perhaps a dozen green and gray humanoids, the leaders, steps into the street with hundreds gathered and listening. One of the aliens speaks out and says
**All humans will be killed or enslaved.**
**Your planet is ours now.**
**You can resist but you will fail.**
**Lay down your weapons immediately.**
**Make no attempt at fighting back.**
**All hope for you is already lost.**
**Obey our orders and all will be well.**
The people in the crowd panicked and dozens of aliens from carriages that landed throughout the city began their invasion. People ran away from the aliens and into buildings and the streets were flooded with chaos. I ran into a small café where five others were hiding. We looked out the window to see the aliens sliding their slimy "feet" down the street, only to see them draw muskets. The six of us in the café were absolutely puzzled. We decided it should be easy to take them over as their worst threat was the bayonets on the end of their muskets.
We each grabbed two cups each of scalding hot coffee and walked out of the café as the twelve leaders passed by. We flanked them from behind and poured boiling black coffee on top of their heads. The aliens began to melt as the leader cried out ***"NOOOOO, NOT DECAF!".***
The rest of the fleet was completely lost without their leaders and had no drive to fight anymore. The aliens fled to their carriages and went the way of E.T.
The war was won in a day, and the aliens left America, and therefore the world. | 2015-04-16T10:56:19 | 2015-04-16T09:46:16 | 78 | 39 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | Melinda was beautiful. Well, maybe a better word is bewitching. She has this beautiful crown of black hair and a quirky smile. It starts a little lopsided when sharing an inside joke and then widens into a full smile with sparkling eyes and crinkly corners when you get the joke.
She speaks with a low voice, every word enunciated carefully-people have learned to listen closely. Not only because she speaks so beautifully, but also because she is brilliant. An engineer in a dancers body, with an elder’s patience and wisdom.
Yes, I am smitten. So are most of the men in our community.
She and I have been friends for years. I think we were 8 when we met? I remember a science class in elementary school where we needed to dissect a salmon. I was freaked out-I’d never touched a live fish, let alone a slimy dead one. I was near tears when she asked shyly if we could be partners.
“You’re sad it’s dead aren’t you? I nodded, mute. “Why don’t you put your hands on mine and I will touch it. We can say thank you together. Tell it how pretty it was.” Her hands on the flank of the salmon were tiny, and I let my fingers slide between hers to touch the salmon’s skin. When she gave one of her little smiles, I finally touched the fish with my whole hand.
Thinking about it now, I realized how awkward I was-how on earth did someone so poised become my friend? We were inseparable until we chose different apprenticeships- I wanted to stay home, to become an artist and builder. She was to learn magic and math.
After finishing her apprenticeship, She went away to master her craft as an engineer-researching into ways of building thaumatic bridges, and using magic safely in everyday items. I was proud the day she came home riding her own creation - a reliable motorcycle, powered by her own willpower.
However, I didn’t speak to her that day. She waved delightedly from afar, but I scuttled quickly to my home. It had gotten harder to be her friend-I’d fallen in love and there was no chance we could marry or even be lovers. The community would torment us.
After dodging her throughout her visit home, she finally cornered me, asking why I was avoiding her. I stuttered, ashamed, in capable of looking at her, miserable. “You’re beautiful” I finally said. I felt arms reaching around me, and I fell into that beautiful corner between her neck and shoulder.
“Hush my little one. I love you.” I couldn’t believe my ears, I lifted my head and we kissed. Softly. “I will find a way” she finally said, and pulled away.
The next week, she stood in our community hall in front of the elders. Her eyes were red rimmed with deep shadows. “The elders and I have spoken. I cannot marry the person I choose. Instead, I will marry whomever wins this contest. The elders have agreed to honour the outcome.”
Her eyes narrowed and lips grew hard. “Whomever can open my front door with this key can marry me.”
“But first you must get the key. It is protected by my Julius.” She reaches down to clip a gold chain around the neck of a huge, fluffy, arrogant cat.
Looking at him, you’d think he’d move like cold molasses. In truth he was all fur and muscle. He could move like molten lead through loosely braided wiring. Or like a nail falling from the fifth floor of a house. Fast and with the promise of pain if you got in the way.
I was stunned. Julius? The man hater?
She stood up and with an angry smile said “the contest starts now “.
There was an uproar as men pushed and shoved to try and grab the cat. The cat did his thing, bounding from body to body, dodging arms, and legs, freely distributing teeth and claws as he made his way across the room.
To me. He leapt onto my shoulders, and hooked his back claws onto my bra strap to keep his balance as he hissed at the men.
Melinda was triumphant as I walked slowly towards her home. The crowd in the community hall fell silent and followed me. The elders gaped as I took the key from Julius’s neck, inserted it in the lock, and opened the door.
We are in love. We will be married | The entire town had apparently gone medieval. Not actual medieval-medieval, but fairytale medieval: solve the Sphynx's riddle, save the princess from the tower and gain the throne to the kingdom!
Only in this case the Sphynx's riddle was the key to a penthouse around the neck of a particularly skittish black cat, the tower the aforementioned penthouse, and the princess was a objectively hot former celebutante, who had grown tired of the limelight and the sycophants, became a misanthrope, got a degree in Quantum Physics, but figured at the age of 32 that having only protons as friends was a solitary existence. As for the kingdom... Well, she *was* part of the 1%.
I got hired through a temp company to serve as referee in the contest (the quest, as one of the contestants had claimed, clad in full Game of Thrones garb, Ikea rug on his shoulders and everything) and make sure that the one catching the key was the one opening the door to the penthouse.
It was as entertaining as it was frustrating.
One bright bulb decided to bring his massive mastiff to hunt the cat. The cat huffed and wasn't seen again in three days. I had the pleasure of calling the SPCA on him for kicking the poor pup for his own stupidity.
Another brought a jack russel, which was a smarter idea in theory, if it weren't for the fact that *jack russels can't climb*. At least I didn't have to call the SPCA on this one.
Some poorman's Thor brought a huge salmon for which he claimed have fought a grizzly bear. It looked promising for about 2.5 seconds, until the cat hissed at the fish, hacked a furball and ran to the cat-tower to lick its genitals (yes, there was an actual tower in this mess).
The most disturbing had to be the weirdo that claimed cats were inherently evil and would eat a human's face immediately, given the opportunity. So he lay down on the ground, his face covered in minced meat, and waited perfectly still for several hours. In his defence he caught a rat.
The thought of entering the contest hadn't even crossed my mind in the beginning, but after weeks of seeing the weirdest ideas going nowhere, I decided.
The next day I brought to work a folding chair, my laptop with the charger, a can of tuna and small ball with a bell inside. I put the tuna and the ball a few feet away of where I opened the chair and then sat down with the laptop to wait. Half an hour later the cat had eaten some of the tuna and started playing with the ball, while I was learning the theory of how to make a bowl out of mud. I continued to watch Youtube videos ([apparently it would be scientifically impossible for Antman to explode Thanos from inside his rectum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG2esWiRe0s)), only remembering about the cat and the contest whenever I heard the bell inside the ball.
Finally the cat got tired of being ignored and jumped on my laptop's keyboard. I gave it a tentative pat. The cat headbutted my hand and purred. I removed the key from around its neck and then waited, because you should never get up when there's a cat purring on your lap.
-------
That night I finally arrived at the penthouse, took the key out of where I had stored it and opened the door.
Inside the penthouse the woman had gotten up to greet the winner, but sat down again when she saw me. She raised an eyebrow, gave me a once-over, and the corner of her mouth curled up in a lazy smirk.
"I see you should never send a man to do a woman's job," she said.
"Indeed," I said, putting the key back in my bra. | 2019-05-01T18:44:31 | 2019-05-01T18:12:07 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] God returns to Earth. Before any questions are asked he says two words, "I'm sorry." | 'I'm sorry'
The words came out of nowhere, or rather, they came from inside the heads of everyone on the planet. It was a strange thing, to hear with the mind and not the ears, ones innermost privacy violated; to have that familiar, personal voice, conjured by oneself, replaced by the tone of a stranger, internal audio wholly outside ones control.
Walking, talking, strolling and rolling stopped abruptly. Sounds of motors dying, screeching tires and the silent yet very real collective gasp. Everyone turned their faces to the sky.
'Well, I guess... Not really, if truth is to be told - which I imagine it is, since I am here, finally. In hindsight, probably should've planned for this monologue; I'm not a very gifted public speaker... Ehm... So, I am God. You may have endured a great deal of pain and trauma over the last... Eh.. Ehm, couple of millions of years? Whatever, well, I'm back now. I apologize - as said - for this, but I got a bit carried away with my other creation, those super intelligent crab-like beings I made a few hundred million light years from here... Much more interesting than you guys, but I guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I mean, you can't expect to be good at something the first time around, right? Well, there you go. Anyway, I thank you for your patience; you no longer have to wait, I'm back and I'll get to the termination stage in just a minute... You were great practice, and for that, well, thanks I guess...'
No one spoke. Everyone was quiet. | "I'm sorry", the white figure said.
"I have chosen to abandon you for a good reason", were the words that resounded across the globe.
If people could enact force with emotion alone then their cries would've torn the planet to pieces. Instead, some of those who believed huddled together as their father ascended into heaven once more.
"I was never your creator but there was a time when a white lie was necessary. My job here is done. I fear that my methods may result in repercussions, namely war. Holy wars. You will blame each other, you will tear each other to pieces, you will slaughter your neighbours and children in an effort to bring me back. To call me and I will not listen."
"I am here to root out myself. How else are we going to prepare you? If not for this, we couldn't bid you welcome amongst us in the stars." | 2014-05-25T07:48:13 | 2014-05-25T07:09:38 | 51 | 17 |
[WP] You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn't care. You didn't believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough | People have reasons for what they do. You eat when your hungry, you laugh at things that are funny and you fight those that challenge you. I wanted the city, as was my birth right. The problem was the heroic team that always stopped me.
Everytime, I would be so close and then they would find a way to stop me. In an act of genius, I kidnapped the smart guy of the group, Doc Dimensional. He only had slight telekinetic powers, enough to float a few people at max, but was smart enough to causally think in 4D.
When i captured him, he said that they would not come back for him. I ignored him, thinking of it as lies to lower my guard. Any moment now, they would be busting down the walls in a daring rescue attempt. And when they did, I would have my revenge.
Its now been over a month, with Doc D crying himself to sleep ever since he was given a simple TV with the news on it. I didn't know why until one day, as I was scoping out a heist location, I saw the news papers.
*The Heroics have given up on the search for Doctor Dimensional. His wealth will be given to the Heroics for their effort. *
"Those lying little brats. ". I knew they had not put any effort into finding Doc D as I had been monitoring their movements as best I could. If this is how the heros act then how was I the bad guy? I had had enough and I knew what i needed to do.
When I returned to the secret warehouse base, I stormed my way to where Doc D was imprisoned.
"You coming with me, NOW! " I shouted. He looked shocked at my sudden outburst, having only seen me like this when they tried to harm my mother.
"What? why? So you can experiment on me? " he asked.
"No. Its so i can get your fucking measurements. I need them if I'm going to make your fucking armour suit. From now on, your working for me. " I snapped.
Doc D looked so confused. "Again, why? Why would I work for someone like..." he was interrupted as I turned and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
"WOULD YOU RATHER WORK FOR THE FUCKING HEROICS THEN!?!? I'm giving you the chance to work for someone who has admired your work since I understood what it meant. My laboratory full of weapons, gadgets and plans, I would happily share if you just join me. " I said, ignoring the fact that I had just admitted.
He stuttered a bit with the tears in his eyes. "Y-you would do tha- that for me? Even after the things I have d...".
"Shut up and come with me. You have a lot to learn from me Doc D. Now, here's a little lesson in trickery."
*3 days later. *
I crashed through the bank wall, my army of techonpathicly controlled drones following behind. At my side was my new partner and the previous Doc D, Dimension cutter. The new gauntlet we had made together let him stand up to his name as the portals and telepathic enhancer made him more powerful than he had ever been.
Just as planned, the Heroics showed up. They even had a new addition, which was supposed to be Doc D's replacement.
"Stop right their, Tech Ruler. Its time we put a stop to you. " said the team leader.
"I see you found a replacement pretty quick. I do hope you care for him more than you did for poor old Doc. " I gloated, as was the villainary custom.
"While we miss him, we don't need him. We could save ourselves. He was getting too old for this anyway. " said the young pyromancer girl.
DC scoffed. "So thats why you did even try. You just wanted to get rid of me? Nice to know I won't regret my current decision. " he said, finally catching the heros attention.
"W-w-wait? Doc Dimensional? Is that you? " the leader asked.
"I was, back when I thought heros were good people. Seems like I was working for the wrong side. ".
"It doesn't matter. We'll take you both down for your crimes. " said fire girl.
DC and I just smiled at each other.
"Maybe some other time. Meanwhile, why don't you stop the boss bots I, no, we have repaired and improved. See you again some other time. " i said, timing it perfectly with an explosion.
"Good bye Hero-dick. Next time, ill show you all the power that you wasted by losing my old self. " DC commented with an impressively funny and villainous insult as we both walked through the portal. | I hate to admit it but we got close, I just don’t understand why they wouldn’t want him back. He’s extremely smart, strategic, and interesting to talk to. Apparently he was nothing more than a tool for the hero’s, they used his brain and nothing else. I felt bad for him, I offered him to work with me, but he said he didn’t want to be a villain. Then one night I heard him crying, he was watching an interview with the hero team.
“How do you feel your progress has been in the last month or so.”
“Honestly we had the opportunity to get rid of some dead weight, we took it, and we feel like we’ve been improving since.”
Ok that was just cold and uncalled for, he turned off his phone and turned to me.
“Fine I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll work with you I’ll be a villain.”
“Only if you want to.”
“If these are the type of people we call hero’s who the hell needs villains.”
“Alright then”
We got to work with training, I won’t lie on that we had a lot of work ahead of us. After that we went to make his villain costume, it came out perfect. Next needed a gimmick, every villain has to have a gimmick.
“We’ll what’s my gimmick.”
“We’ll lets see, it has to based on your form of attack and defense, since you don’t have any powers that’s out the window, what are going to use.”
“Oh I know”
He pulls out a weapon
“It’s perfect”
“We we’re ready”
We decided where we going to attack, we wanted to do something big, so we decided take up the central area of the city, it’s usually crowded at this time. We were ready, for his big debut.
The central part of the city was filled with people, walking, going about their day as usual .
When a small grenade dropped in the city, and shot out huge amounts of a purple gas. People were running, screaming, panicking, when the hero’s showed up. It wasn’t the team that abandoned him, bummer, but the whole event was being live streamed, no doubt they were watching.
“Quickly get the grenade, before it emits anymore gas.”
“No need to worry”
The hero’s turn to see me
“Sharpshooter!”
“The gas is nontoxic”
“But this one isn’t”
He drops another grenade, this one emitting a pink gas this time. The hero’s fly above the gas to avoid the impact, but a group of people who weren’t fast enough collapse onto the floor.
“That one was just knock out gas, but I assure you they get much worse.”
“I see you got a new partner sharpshooter, and I see he’s as twisted as you.”
“Yes I did, allow me to introduce you to time-bomb.”
“I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’d rather not lie.”
“Unless your immune to toxic gas, I wouldn’t get smart with me hero.”
Just then the hero team that abandoned time-bomb showed up
“What are guys doing here?”
“You we’re taking to long so we assumed you needed us.”
“It hasn’t even been 5 minutes.”
I shoot an arrow to get their attention, barely missing one of hero’s faces.
“Don’t forget about us now.”
“Ah sharpshooter, always a pleasure running into you.”
“Trust me the feeling is mutual.”
“And who’s your friend supposed to be, he looks puny.”
“You really don’t remember him-“
“Theres no need for that sharpshooter, who they knew was dead, I’m time-bomb now and that’s all that matters.”
“We’ll we would love to stay and chat but this was more of a, debut, of sorts. Toodleoo
Time bomb throws down smoke bombs and we disappear within the smoke.
Hope the hero’s have fun cleaning up the mess, they threw away a hero, and he chose to be a villain.
Bad choice on their part, if you ask me. | 2021-08-04T12:56:20 | 2021-08-04T11:24:19 | 292 | 154 |
[WP] One day you find a prompt that doesn't ask you to write a story based on some weird and mysterious happening, but actually inspires you to practice your general storytelling. And then a vampire attacks. | "My god, I've never seen a prompt so succinct, so inspiring, so perfectly constructed!" I said out loud for some reason. My cat gave me a judgmental look.
"Ah the creative juices are flowing, Cornelius! This one will get me the approval of at least three internet strangers, I can feel it!" Cornelius started licking himself in a disgustingly private area.
"Gross, dude." I said, then started typing. Hours flew past. Cold perspiration gathered on my forehead. A vampire burst through the window.
"Jesus Christ!" I shouted. "What kind of contrived bullshit is this?" Cornelius scampered out of the room.
"Hey." The vampire replied. "I'm here to suck your blood or whatever." His upper lip drew back to reveal huge, pointy vampire teeth. He rubbed one of his gleaming red eyes and yawned.
"Yeah I figured. You're obviously a vampire." I said.
"Word." The vampire replied. "So, like, you wanna get this over with? I'm meeting up with some vamp-bros in a little while."
"Fuck. I'd really prefer it if you wouldn't kill me, but can I finish writing this thing first?" I said. The vampire threw his head back and sighed.
"Ughhh, how long is that gonna take, man? I gotta get this murder show on the road here." He replied.
"Shit, like ten minutes? I was really in a groove here. Thought I might take the concept from this prompt and turn it into a more substantial piece. I suppose I can leave it as a vignette though, considering I'm going to be murdered."
"What am I gonna do for ten minutes man? C'mon, just let me kill you and I'll be out of your hair." The vampire said. I scratched my head.
"Boy you're really out of touch with the consequences of your actions, aren't you?" I replied. "Anyway, why me? Why this house out of all the houses in the neighborhood? Also, why tonight?"
"Fuck, man! All these questions! I dunno, dude. The situation just seemed to call for it or whatever." The vampire said.
"Wow, that's some serious *Deus ex machina* bullshit. So do you mind if I do something totally contrived and in the same vein?"
"Like what, bro? Come on, I'm fucking bored to tears over here." The vampire replied.
"This, for example." I said as I pulled a repeating stake-launcher out of my desk and buried twelve wooden stakes into his dumbassed chest.
"Fuck." The vampire said as he exploded into gross gray dust.
I got back to writing. | "I'm afraid that this is no good at all, David. The subreddit is never going to like this - you're going to have to redo it."
David sighed and shifted in the chair of his boss Mr. Harris' office listening to his prompt be torn apart against the backdrop of clattering keyboards and clicking mice. Rubbing his tired eyes, he leaned forward and tried to defend his creation.
"I was just thinking that maybe the subreddit would like a prompt that's good for more general st-"
"That's the problem," David's boss interjected. "It's too general! Where's the dragon being held captive by a princess? Those are always good! Where's the super powers? Where's the aliens? WHERE'S HITLER, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE?"
"But Mr. Harris, there's just so many prompts of those, I felt that the Subreddit could use-"
"What the subreddit could *use*, David, are things more creative than this." Harris got a faraway look in his eye, thinking aloud to himself. "What if in the prompt, the main character suddenly realized..." Mr. Harris began to nod his head, a slow grin forming on his face. David groaned from his chair. "What if they suddenly realized, that everyone they knew was a vampire!" David swore quietly.
"*Vampires?* VAMPIRES!? Another Vampire prompt?! Do you really expect that the subreddit is going to go for that *again?"*
Harris slid the prompt back across the desk and silently pointed for David to leave his office.
David stomped back to his cubicle where he sat down in front of his computer. With no small amount of grumbling, he opened up /r/writingprompts and began putting in the newly-edited prompt.
"God dammit. I don't get paid enough for this shit."
| 2015-07-13T09:45:48 | 2015-07-13T08:15:49 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] The Caledonians expanded through the galaxy thanks to their logic and discipline, always following the plan, always following the rules. So when the fleet was about to be destroyed the Caledonian Admiral did what the book said: bring a human to the war room and let it make the decisions. | “Admiral, they're pushing us towards the Gravity well!” The young Caledonian officer shouted over the blarring of alarms and creaking of the ships Titanium bones.
“Sir, the right wing is breaking.” the visibly pale communication officer added.
Another barrage of missiles shook the ship, fire burst from the damage control panels surrounding the war room, the first pangs of fear crept slowly up the admirals back.
“How many ships do we have in reserve?” The Admiral asked straining to keep his voice steady.
The young lieutenant shared a brief glance with the helmsman to his side.
“Sir all forces are committed.” The young lieutenant said.
The Admiral paused, the end was near he knew it, the only question left to him was how to meet that end either as a true logical Caledonian or there was the other choice.
“Initiate the Delta directive.” The Admiral said solemnly.
With the slow scrapping of metal, a tube slid from the ceiling, inside stood the ugliest bipedal creature the admiral has ever seen. The monster hung suspended in a translucent gelatinous subsistence connected to all the ships system via an intricate web of pipes and wires.
“Hideous.” The crew muttered. “It’s knees bend the wrong way."
“Hughmon.” The Admiral said tapping the creature’s enclosure with his third mandible. “Hughmon it’s time to do your duty.”
“Jeff, my names Jeff.” The human muttered, as information flowed from the ships computer to the creatures brain.. “It looks like you have managed to make quiet a meal of this, why the hell would park your fleet next to a black hole?”
“Well the book says…”
“And if the book told you to jump of a cliff would you do it?” Jeff said scornfully.
“Without question.” The admiral replied bemused.
“Exactly the problem, now begin targeting the enemy ships engines, inertia will be our friend today.” Jeff commanded, habit forced the Caledonian’s to obey as confirmations flooded in from the remnants of the fleet.
“How will destroying their engines help we still won’t win!” The admiral shouted, the facade of his outward calm cracking like the ship itself.
The humans face twisted grotesquely, into what the admiral knew was a smile.
“No Admiral, we won’t win.” Jeff said flatly.
“Then it’s illogical.” The admiral concluded raising his hand as if to overrule the humans order.
“I’m not here to win admiral, I’m here to make sure they lose”
| He couldn't believe it, the fleet wasn't following the book anymore, they always followed the book. forget cheating, all guns focus fire on there destroyers, take out there damage.
He still couldn't understand it, why take out engines that served no purpose, and they were taking serious losses to do it, friendly losses were minimal.
As the last of there destroyers fell he had a terrible thought, half his fleet was immobilized, intel had said no reinforcements were even remotely close but if they somehow had another fleet this would fit with expected implementation of the tackle and hold pattern
Scanners were clear, no sign of ships.
"Everyone retreat, split up and make sure you get this message back to command, Caledonians have a new fleet that can evade sensors, we don't know if its stealth or a new travel method but whatever it is its a match for our 3rd battlegroup. Good luck. To those stuck here with me I apologies, we had heard nothing of this new weapon, were surrendering."
\-------------------------------------------------
"What just happened?"
"You always take clear calculated moved with limited risk, so I simply acted as if we had powerful reinforcements coming, trap half of their best ships on grid and they have to figure you would only do it if reinforcements were imminent. so now they flee and surrender. There is a reason that rule is only in the high admiral edition and classified at the highest level, you say nothing, you commanded this fleet, you gave the orders, you successfully trapped the enemy here and you tell anyone that asks that the information they are asking for is classified. I am the admirals chef and a damn good one, that is the reason and the only reason I stay aboard no matter who sits in the chair, got it?"
Edit: added quotations and used correct their | 2021-02-16T06:18:51 | 2021-02-16T04:43:15 | 258 | 34 |
[WP]Your whole life you have been able to shapeshift into anyone or anything. You've managed to keep this a secret from everyone by using as little as possible, But as you experiment with your power more and more you realize that it can be used in... unexpected ways | I hadn't meant to, the first time. I had just been dumped by Trish. Gah, that was an ugly one. So I leaned, a hand against the wall of the restaurant. And then I started to be the building. I could feel myself seeping into the pores of the mortar, molding into the wiring, the piping, the vents. When I opened my eyes, well...it wasn't my eyes that opened. I was picking up the security feeds. I could feel the pressure changes as someone flushed a toilet. I felt every stain and puddle, every gust of wind. And as I watched, I got curious. I focused on a briefcase, leaning against a table leg. Touching the floor. Touching me. I pulled at it. Tugged myself back out of the building. And suddenly, I was back in the alley, holding some accountant's briefcase. I debated hitting up a bank that night, but then I puked, probably getting out some of those puddles that came along for the ride. Of course, I'd felt sick beforehand. Suddenly, Trish came back into my mind. You know, her work had a lot of cameras, a lot of automated systems. Tomorrow felt like a good day for some petty revenge. | It began with the muffins, a simple shift here or there, but then it was an obsession, better than human reproduction, even.
I had no excuses, I was obsessed with producing fruit, with photosynthesis, but my photosynthetic progeny were violent.
They stood tall, with long whipish stings, and could trace sound with deadly accuracy.
The blinding meteors signaled their victory, and my flowers overtook the world. | 2018-09-18T22:50:36 | 2018-09-18T21:36:33 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” | "Charge men! For the emperor!"
At the commander's orders every single man and woman leapt from their foxhole with their bayonets affixed. The xenos firing line stared at each other confused for a second before shrugging and unleashing a volley of pulse rounds into the oncoming horde of brace humans. Some charged with fearlessness of their enemy but most charged with fear of their superior. To the alien's weapons the guardsmen may as well have been wearing especially heavy tissue paper for all the protection it gave them. The ones in the front dropped like rag dolls releasing bloody screams as the tau weapons fire ripped apart their internal organs. However still the troopers marched over their comerades corpses to continue the charge intent on reaching their targets.
Even the colossal battle suits of the tau fire caste were horribly under equipped for melee combat. Their unwieldy weapons were unable to hit the mass of soldiers at their legs harassing them until the chain bayonets ripped away enough of the machinery to render the xenos contraption unusable. Afterwards the fire warrior infantry stood no chance against the rabid soldiers stabbing their way through the lines of alien units.
When the final tau rifleman was gutted by the exhausted exposable soldiers there was maybe a tenth of the original army left on their feet, surrounded by dead or dying allies. Most of them didn't stay on their feet for long either falling to the ground from exhaustion or going to their knees to thank the god emperor for not only their survival, but for their glorious victory against the foul aliens. It was a scene of bravery and piety that would go down in imperial history for countless millennia.
Of course, while all those fucking morons charged face first into anti infantry weapons I hid myself in the fortresses latrine and waited for the battle to be over while I ate from a can of beans I stole from the platoon chef. The commissar can kiss my ass. | Looking up from the hands of the aged and weathered quarterback the doctor could not fathom the pain. 52, fifty fucking two and this fucking maniac was till tossing bullets with better aim than a rookie just getting his chest hair.
Leaning back and taking In the living fossil, for this game to be Honest, he gasped as the last breath of a grid iron legend was expelled from the mortal coil that was wrecked beyond redemption. Three crushed ribs turned to dust and a completely severed L3. How the guy even made off the field is mind boggling. Jer Jackson had hit him low as Davin Steat hit him high and twisted him up in a knot. Snapping rims, his spin, and it appeared his soul.
That last throw hit its mark with all the percussion of a guided middle as the time drained from the clock in the closing minutes of the first game of the season. Fifty two. Fifty fucking two is just unbelievable as you felt for a pulse....
| 2018-07-15T09:51:07 | 2018-07-15T08:19:45 | 63 | 27 |
[WP] You’re in a time loop but it’s not permanent. You repeat a day 3 times then time moves onto the next day. Rinse, repeat...Deja Vu was never more applicable. | The most useless feeling is the feeling of having control, only to have it ripped from you at the end of it all.
Years ago, I awoke on the second day of a Sunday, and unknowingly went out to go to my classes. I thought it was a Monday: why wouldn’t I? I had gone to work the previous day, and it was time to put my nose to the grindstone. However, when I arrived at the usual lecture hall, there was nobody there: no professor, no peers... so I checked the calendar on my phone: Sunday.
I started freaking out, thinking I had lost my mind, went home and called off of work. They didn’t need me, not now. Then it happened for the third time, and I *knew* I hadn’t gone insane. That was ages ago, and if it weren’t for this amazing ability, then I would have never graduated from college with a fantastic record, I wouldn’t have begun into the career of my dreams, and so on.
But I also wouldn’t be lying here, for the third time today, for a month. This ability has been my source of torment ever since I became sick with the new strain of the Black Death a month ago real time, but I had experienced it three times *every single day.*
All I want now is to let time pass as fast as possible, but on the day that I died of this plague... only then, did the day loop for the fourth time. | As soon as I realize what’s going on, I’m margin trading on the stock market and becoming ultra-wealthy. I might strike a lotto win to boost things along so I don’t have to wait around too long before realizing the wealth. 3 years of my time for one year of world time to go by.
Then the issue becomes filling up my days in a satisfying way, since they’re going to be tripled. Keeping track of relationships and which events happened in the past in the world vs in my own cut off trial timelines. | 2020-10-09T06:30:17 | 2020-10-09T05:37:23 | 106 | 14 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego. | I know what I am. More importantly, I know what I am not, but I still know the names. The names people spit with vitriol when my face is plastered on the news. Anarchist, terrorist, monster, savage. That’s fine with me. Let them spew their verbal sludge from their high horses knowing good and well they’d do the same in my position. So I’ll play my part and be their boogeyman spawned from hell to take the lives of men, women, and children innocent in their bed. I’ll be the villain that they’ll tell their kids about as a bedtime scary story.
I am no monster, or savage, or boogeyman. I’m just a man. A man who has the balls to do what’s necessary when the time comes, and now the time has come. The time to end the corruption, the lies, the falsity of this damnable government. I will blow their tower of deceit back to the seventh circle of hell from which it came. The time has come to return this land to the people. Sometimes you need a wildfire to burn out the deadwood and my bombs are the spark.
But he’s coming. He’s always fucking coming the persistent bastard. For months we’ve waged war from South Africa to Chechnya and now he’s coming again. He’s slowed my progress, the peoples progress, but no longer. In another time we may have been allies and probably even friends, working together to better this place but that time has long since passed. I respect him for the tenacity of which our battles have been fought, like rams butting heads, we have been locked in this dance of death for a long time but now it’s time for a victor. The poor guy sees the world as black and white and no matter my efforts, he refuses to see the gray domain where I roam and has pegged me for the darkness.
“Sir? He’s here. He came in where we expected.”
“How many did it take to subdue him?”
“Too many.”
“A price that needed paying. Where is he now?”
“In the interrogation room. He’s bound at the hands and feet and he knows you’re coming.”
“Well done.”
I have no superpowers though now I wish I did. It would make this easier. Grabbing my revolver off the desk where my security monitors are located, I open the chamber to make sure it’s loaded, it is, and solemnly begin the short walk to the interrogation room. Ha. Interrogation room. It’s a movie set I ordered built in this warehouse that I’ve been feigning as my base of operations. At the risk of bragging, it was a brilliant trap. I had watched him sneak into my compound on my little TVs, take out a few of my dime-a-dozen guards, and then eventually cut my video feeds. It was ending today one day one way or another, and it will not be with my demise. Luckily, for me, he was outnumbered, ambushed, and captured. He demanded that he see me face to face. I know he wants to save me, bring me to the light as it were, but the light doesn’t exist. It’s all just shades of gray.
As I walk past the one way mirror, I see him sitting there, bound to a table with three guards watching him face the door with steely determination. Well, facing A door. I meander around to the back of the room cursing him for making me do this to him. Why did you demand this you prideful, brave, fool? You are no hero more than I am a villain, but I suppose he plays his role in the same vain as I play mine. I double check my revolver, still loaded.
“Has he moved?”
“No sir. He can’t move without being seen by a guard and they have shoot on movement orders.”
“They should’ve shot him already,” I say before I silently slip in the hidden door in the back of the room. There sits my nemesis, still bound hand and foot, sitting in a chair with his back to me. Slowly raising my revolver, I hold my breath so as not to make even the slightest noise. The spot is easy enough to find, if you know what you’re looking for and have some experience, of which I am in unfortunately in no short supply. My revolver settles on a spot just below the base of the skull about 2 inches from the bottom of his short cut, blonde hairline. In the snap of your fingers it’s over. The bullet severed his brain stem but missed the skull. None of the blood even got on my shoes, just followed the bullet through and out under his chin. No fuss, no muss. I roll the body over of my fallen adversary. He was a good man doing what he thought was right just as I am doing what I think is right. His bright blue eyes are calm and lifeless. You never really get used to looking into the eyes of someone whose life has just been snuffed out by your own hand. It was never what I wanted, but what was needed. I press my revolver into his chest above the heart and pull the trigger until the gun clicks. No tears, no guilt, no come to Jesus moment; just respect for a man who does what he needs to do.
“What now sir?”
“Burn the motherfucker down.” | 8
8 times they've locked me up and thrown away the key.
8 times i've broken out of whatever cell they make for me.
20
20 times now have we met
20 bodies I have left.
I am John Reyes and I am a killer.
I order another scotch, the bartender slides one over. He's too scared to hand it to me, I can tell.
Foots steps behind me, heavy, leaden. An old friend.
"Zachariah, hear to talk or do you have something you need done" I say without looking up
"Chupacabra, you know the rules. Here I am Tyrano." I hate the name Chupacabra. Zach sits down next to me. he is a mountain of muscle and scars. The exact kind of look you'd expect from a mob enforcer, not the don himself. He sits down next to me, like a lumbering jackass.
"Heard you had another encounter with the Breakers. who'd you kill this time."
"Madame Mythical" I wave for another scotch
"Damn shame, she was the hot one"
"6/10" Zach gives a stifled cough.
"I'm not here for idle chit chat anyway."
"good."
"Hangedman is out for blood, your specifically." I order another scotch.
"anyway man if you need some protection I still owe you a favor for incredible man."
"Where is he now."
"last i heard he was patrolling 5th." I get up from my seat and walk out the bar.
It was a rainy night. the streets reeked of wet human rot. The street wasn't that busy tonight, Tuesday. I walk into a liquor store and grab a bottle of scotch. The guy at the register says nothing as I leave. I keep walking by the time I find who i'm looking for my bottle is already empty.
He doesn't notice me. In one movement i rush forward throwing the empty bottle into the back of his head. IT smashes apart and cuts his mask. Before he can turn around I pull out my knife and complete the cut on his mask. blond hair, neatly combed. He spins around and cracks my rib with his fist. I go flying into a wall. Another 2 breaks.
"You!" his mask falls off his face. mid 30's, brown eyes. Square jaw. He walks over and picks me up with his left arm.
"I'll kill you!" I stab him in the tricep and cut down to his elbow before he can drop me.
"No you won't" I say between coughs. He goes in for a right. I dodge around it and stab him in the eye. he scream out in pain.
"They say your immortal." I stab him in his gut and push him down. I slam my foot on his neck.
"But everyone dies." I cut and cut and cut. he keeps try to get back up but I just stab him again when he does. by the time that he's more mess than body I stand up to admire my work.
"why..." he says with his jaw not sliced in half. I must say I am quite impressed. as I begin to crouch down again i say to him.
"Because no one will stop me." I keep cutting and slicing. I'm not sure how much I have to cut him before he dies. But he will die.
I lost track of time. I lost sense of place. and I didn't come back until I felt a car slamming into the back of my head.
"Beware villain, Power is here!" I see who threw the car. A 6'8'' dumbass made of muscle and drivel. In a single bound he cut the entire distance between us. I go to stab at him but he is prepared for it. My head goes slamming into the mush that was once hangedman, maybe it still is.
"You are going to go away for a long time villain." He picks me up and locks my arms into chains. He's fast, maybe even as fast as me. I'll note this for later.
"I've broken out 9 times before, whats different now."
It doesn't take long for him to get me back to the police station. And it doesn't take that long for them to throw me back in solitary confinement.
&#x200B;
I'm gone now, but i'll be back, because i always comeback. | 2018-10-18T17:20:09 | 2018-10-18T17:19:34 | 124 | 47 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What did you say?"
Oh, shit. "I said, I flew biplanes against the Red Baron in that World War we won." Nailed it.
---
Thirty-two years later that kid found me again. This time he wasn't a kid, he was about forty. "You asshole, I knew you said World War One!"
"Wow. You have an incredible memory for small details." I sipped my coffee. "You got me."
"How'd you know another world war would happen? How many happen after this?"
"I don't know if there's a WWIII, but I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm a time traveler, kid. The first time I got to about this date, I hopped back to 1918 to live through the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s again with all the right stocks in my portfolio. I plan to do the same again, and probably die of old age in the roaring twenties."
"But you could go back and prevent the war! Both of them!"
"Look at me, kid, I'm twice your age at least. You think I've got the strength to kill Hitler? I've got the strength to have a stroke oogling flappers, that's about it."
"You maybe," they said, "but I'm no chicken-shit who lies about being a WWI flying ace. Send me back instead."
"It's not something I can do on a whim," I argued. "If I sent you back to protect Franz Ferdinand or whatever, I couldn't go back myself. I've only got one left, and I'm using it!"
"Don't be selfish," said the kid. "You've had two goes at history---now you've got to face the music. Gimme my shot to fix what you wouldn't."
I sighed, and pulled an old bronze pocket-watch from my suit. "Tune it to when you want, then press the thingie. And remember, you've only got one shot."
He took it in trembling hands and turned to run. "Say hello to the sixties for me if you make it that far, old man."
| "You do not believe this is the last world conflict we'll see?"
I paused, realizing the blunder I had just made. However, it did not change anything; I could attribute my statement to many things without raising suspicion that I was not from this *time.*
"No, I do not think this is the last world war we will see," I replied to the disheartened man.
"I hope you are wrong; I have seen the devastation and destruction of war firsthand, and I would not wish to see a new generation plunged into that darkness again."
&nbsp;
The irony of what he said twisted like a knife in my stomach. I watched the man limp over to his stool and take a seat. He picked up his brush and gently began stroking red lines onto his canvas, taking extreme care with every movement of his arm. He was not great at painting, but he was also not terrible, either. *Amazing how such small failures can alter one's life so drastically,* I thought as I walked over to where the man was sitting.
I took a deep breath and raised the Beretta M9 pistol I had brought with me. It was time for me to head back, and I prayed the world I returned to would be significantly improved when I returned.
I turned the safety off and took aim. "Goodbye Adolf," I muttered as I pulled the trigger... | 2017-12-10T11:09:21 | 2017-12-10T10:17:54 | 467 | 218 |
[WP] Scientists have managed to create the world's first time machine, however, it can only send messages to itself in the past. Within seconds of turning the machine on for the first time, messages of warning begin to flood in from the future.
This is one of the most probable ways that a time machine could actually work within our understanding of physics. I've always thought that it was an interesting idea for some kind of script. | Jim turned the machine on and it hummed to life.
He was a janitor at Intel and he certainly wasn't supposed to be touching anything in the lab, but he couldn't help himself.
This was the first computer made entirely for quantum computing. It was on the short list for the 'greatest damn thing since sliced bread' award and now it was shoved in some dark corner. A hundred million dollars down the shitter. Why? Because the head of the project, Dr. Cho, turned the damn thing on and then promptly killed herself.
Maybe she just couldn't take the pressure. Maybe the computer was a flop. All Jim knew was that he still can't sleep at night without seeing her hanging from the rafters in his dreams. He was the one that found her after all.
He was the one that first read her her suicide note, too. He didn't understand most of it -The note was a jumbled mess of doom, gloom, and sciencey ramblings about quantum entanglement- but the part he did take to heart was scrawled in the margins and it simply said this: "October 15^th, 2016: Stay out of Pittsburgh."
His Aunt lived in Pittsburg and he really liked her. He made a point to buy her a ticket to the Bay area when the time came. She's staying his house now and very thankful for it. A lot of her neighbors died yesterday.
The monitor came to life and the curser blinked. Jim didn't know what to do. He wasn't a programmer.
It was stupid, but he didn't know what else to type, so he did, "**Hello?**"
Immediately the screen filled up with a list of time, dates, and the total dead. Every horrible event that was going to happen in the next 10 years was displaying itself on the screen. Famine, war, plague, and death. The Four Horsemen all lined up in a row for inspection.
There was no context to it, only the end result. First the numbers were in the hundreds, then the thousands, then the millions, then nothing. That was it.
The curser blinked, waiting for a reply.
Jim typed out, "**Is this how we end?**"
The computer replied, "**Yes.**"
**"Can we stop it?"**
**"No."**
"**Why not?**"
"**Because if you could stop it, then there wouldn't be a list.**"
Jim turned the computer back off and stared at the black screen. There's nothing left after this. The future only ends in tragedy. He knew what he had to do.
Jim quietly wrote a on a piece of paper, "**SPOILER ALERT**" and stuck it on the monitor.
He then slunk off to the supply closet. There had to be a good rope somewhere in there. | Dr. Lucia Murray was at her desk, busy pretending to write her grant while dreaming up her Nobel acceptance speech, when she heard a knock at her door. It creaked open, and a mop of black hair poked its way through.
"Dr. Murray?" The lab manager tentatively asked.
"Yes, Kevin?"
"The machine, ah... It maybe sorta still doesn't work."
Lucia tightened her neck to restrain her head from hitting her desk. *Of course. Why would it?* she thought, sighing. "So, what's the problem?"
"I'm getting a warning message." Kevin tilted his head from side to side, clearly flummoxed.
"Is it the power supply again? Or a blown capacitor on one of the circuit boards?"
"Uh, no. Actually... I'm not sure what it is."
Lucia thought briefly of sacking the lab manager and hiring a new one, then remembered that she'd have to train a new one all the way back up from nigh uselessness. "Okay, what does it say?"
"Well, it says..." Kevin started, then shoved a piece of printed paper at her. "It's probably best if you just looked at it."
The principal investigator took the proffered paper.
*WARNING! INSTRUMENT MALFUNCTION! WARNING! INSTRUMENT MALFUNCTION!*
The lines repeated ten times down the page.
"...What the hell kind of error is this?"
Kevin stared blankly, then shrugged.
"Is it still printing this warning message?"
"Nope. It's been silent for the last two hours."
Lucia's eyes passed over the paper again and again in a haze of annoyance until they finally came to focus on the timestamp.
"Huh. I see."
"Hmm?" Kevin asked.
"Two days from now, send this message."
A lightbulb slowly turned on in Kevin's head.
"Ah. Okay. Can do."
Two days later, fellow lab members looked on in confusion as Kevin sent their first message back in time - a message that consisted of nothing but *WARNING! INSTRUMENT MALFUNCTION!*, repeated ten times. | 2016-01-21T12:01:44 | 2016-01-21T09:46:51 | 35 | 20 |
[WP] The hero stared at the boy who was supposed to be his wise old master. "Word of advice. If you ever achieve immortality then wait till you're at least 20", he said in a high pitched voice. | "...that way, you'll have an easier time getting laid."
The hero gaped his mouth as the realization dawned upon him. The young boy, who looked barely twelve, wasn't a false appearance.
"I'm still perplexed by the morality of using illusion magic to look older during sex." The master grimaced. "Then again, it's never really stopped me in the past, so it doesn't bother me as much as I think it should."
"That's nice... I guess. So, how about training me to defeat the demon king?"
"I mean, women wear makeup. That's sort of masking your appearance too, right?"
"A-are you listening to me?"
"And, most of the time, the women I meet are centuries younger than me. What the hell am I supposed to do? Stay celibate?"
"Who cares!"
"Exactly!"
The hero facepalmed. "I didn't mean it that way. Don't you think we have other matters to discuss?"
"You mean how you broke into my home and discovered my secret?"
The hero glanced away.
The master frowned. "That's what I thought." He walked into the kitchen and started brewing tea. "If you're gonna invade my privacy, be prepared to hear about my sexual frustrations! Also, another tip. If anyone ever shows interest in you specifically because of how young you look... run." He buttered some bread with a dull knife. "It's never worth it."
The hero wrinkled his face, disgusted.
"You know," said the master, "I never expected you to be such a stick in the mud."
"This is a joke."
"You're the joke here, kid."
"Kid? You're a child!"
"Yeah! Kid! There's an obvious age difference here! Are you deaf or an idiot?"
The hero frowned. "I'll kick your ass!"
"A deaf-idiot! How lovely!"
The hero lunged at him with his sword in a fraction of a second.
The master parried his attack with the butter-knife and slapped him away with a casual backhand.
The hero fell on the other side of the living room. His world spun around him as he recovered from the pain.
The master sauntered towards him with a cheeky grin.
The hero stood up. His fighting spirit urged him to retaliate with all he had, but his brain kicked in before he committed to it. Memories of his burnt village flashed in his head. The screams, the smells of ash, the blazing inferno. They reminded him why he went this far. If he truly wanted enough strength to save others, now was time to let go the childish concerns of his ego.
The situation was clear. He wasn't strong enough to beat the master. The appearance of a kid hid the fact that his technique had centuries of practice. The hero fell on his knees and said:
"Please, teach me."
The master smirked. "Looks like you're not *that* much of an idiot." He rolled up his sleeves. "But that doesn't mean I won't beat your ass for waking me up in the middle of the night."
The hero blinked. "W-what?"
The master started stretching his arms. "Training begins now! You won't get food until you land a hit on me."
The hero got punched in the face before he could process the information. It took him a week to eat lunch again.
-----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | The warrior had seen many things in battle that kept him up at night: the bodies of man and beast twisted together in corpse lattices, blood pooled to his ankles, bubbling and putrid, men stronger than he—weeping as they searched for their own missing limbs. So, when he looked upon the boy, *the master* he had ascended the world's tallest peak to find, all he could manage was laughter.
"Does something amuse you, traveler?" the boy inquired, not opening his eyes or rising from his position of meditation, the falling snow outlining his legs on the rock.
"I was told this mountain was home to a great master, one who has found enlightenment," the warrior tossed his pack to the ground, disrupting the fresh layer of snow into a cloud that rose and fell.
The boy opened his eyes and watched with an arched brow, observing the man as he grunted and discarded his gear so carelessly. "The person who told you this tale is no liar."
The man let his shield down, sitting on the broad metal like a chair, unbuckling the leather straps and laying his sword down in the snow, "Nay, if you're the only person atop this peak, then she truly was nothing but a liar."
"I am the only one here," his voice was soft as the snowflakes that touched down around them. "and I am the master you seek."
Another laugh echoed from the warrior's gut as he stretched his aching legs, not bothering with another glance in the boys direction. "No, you're not."
A blade was at the man's throat before his next breath had escaped his lungs. The child perched atop the rear of his shield like a feather, one hand behind his back, the other pressing the knife firmly to the warrior's neck. The few meters of snow that had been between them remained completely undisturbed—the outline of the boy's legs still on the rock.
Instinctively, the warrior grabbed his weapon, attempting to retract the sword from its sheath. It stuck as he pulled, as if snagged inside.
"The frost, my friend," the boy said. "causes the blade to stick."
"How—" the words struggled to move past the dagger at his throat." How did you do that?"
The boy smiled, catching a snowflake on his tongue before answering, "I am the master you seek, and this is your first lesson."
_____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily prepubescent wisdom.** | 2020-01-25T08:11:47 | 2020-01-25T07:39:01 | 355 | 257 |
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony... | The hat seemed to gasp.
Yes, definitely a gasp. The entire room of first years wiggled and strained to the edges of their seats, trying to hear from the Sorting hat.
Harrison kept a straight face. Years of practice. You must never show you're nervous, and never draw attention to the truth.
"The truth, eh?" snapped the Sorting Hat, the voice bouncing into Harrison's scull, reverberating. It was unnerving, more than he expected. He didn't expect it to read his every thought, either.
The students closest to the front could see a bead of sweat roll down Harrison's forehead. But his eyes remained calm, focused on the crowd.
"Yes," thought Harrison, trying to beam his thoughts directly to the hat. "I'm different, that I will not hide from you, but I am as talented as most of them!"
"Oh yes, talented. A bit conniving, obviously. And smart. Daring for sure. And underneath, a good heart. You could be at home at any of the Houses if you only had a lick of magic in you."
Harrison tried not to be phased. He hadn't known how powerful the hat really was. He felt it permeate his mind. He had hoped the hat would somehow miss his lack of ability to perform REAL magic.
" Yes, but this is what I want. This is where I belong."
The hat sighed, audibly. Confusion was rippling through the students. This was the longest they've ever seen the hat decide.
"Where you belong. Hmm, perhaps you have a point. Oh yes, you have some powerful wizards in your family tree. Way back to old Dadelus Cogsteel. Did anyone ever tell you his story?"
"No?" Thought Harrison. Now, he too was furrowing his brow in confusion.
"Oh yes, great wizard, and a great inventor," continued the hat. "And a dear friend of Godric Gryffindor. When the founders needed particularly charmed and unique objects, they turned to codgy old Cogsteel. He helped out greatly with many a trick and feature of the school. He was quite old when he was presented a problem he couldn't find a charm for. He poured everything into all kinds of doodads and magical machines, but they were quite useless for this purpose."
Harrison felt like he had no idea where this was going. He was quite concerned that he would be found out soon. Far too much time was passing.
"Oh yes, but old Cogsteel couldn't imagine failing the founders. He instead grabbed the nearest thing to him, an ugly old hat. And he gave it something special. His magic, Harrison."
Now an awareness was coming to him.
"Yes, that old timer didn't have much use for it anymore, with the school being done, so he put all his magic straight into me, and created a magical item that could look into a soul. Every last bit of his magic, to be clear."
The hat cleared it's throat. The students wiggled once more to the edges of their seats.
"SORT YOUR DAMN SELVES FROM NOW ON!" Shouted the hat, so loud that the students flung themselves back in their chairs so hard that several fell over completely.
Back in Harrison's brain, the hat spoke with warmth.
"He would have wanted this." Harrison felt something rush though his scalp. A tingling sensation spread though his body. He swore he could feel sparks at his fingertips.
He was magic.
The hat slid off his head. It was just a dirty old hat, now. A little ugly, but same as any other. | "Hmm...? 'Please don't be Slytherin?' Very well, then. Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat shouted as Harry Potter excitedly ambled down the stairs. His oblivious expression only further ignited my excitement.
"Pfttt. What's all this cacophony about? Sure, he's that voodoo 'Chosen One', but he doesn't have the ounce of the power I have. I'll prove to them all what a true legend can do." I muttered under my breath as I prepared to wreak havoc in this universe. A wide, unnatural, and inhuman grin slowly stretched upon my face.
"Next is Jackie Trollington!" McGonagall's voice echoed.
I confidently waltzed my way to the seat as the Sorting Hat was promptly put onto my head.
"Hmm... let me see. Oh. Ohhh... I knew this day would come... and it finally did. Although you've disguised yourself as a Muggle who knows several magic tricks, you can't get by me. I can see the hidden objects on your person." the Hat ominously remarked.
"You do not belong to any house. You are an anomaly. You are... the Troll!"
*Gasps*
As if on cue, I suddenly, and "magically" materialized full copies of the entire Harry Potter series from the sleeves of my black robe. I suddenly hopped onto the elongated tables and sprinted down as I splattered the dishes of food everywhere and onto all of their faces.
"Ron, Fred's going to be dead, and your rat's actually a freaking fatass human named Peter or some crap. Harry, you're a living Horcrux! Dumbledore, you better be prepared to die. Oh yea! Harry, it turns out that you'll meet a guy named Snape soon. He had the hots for your mom!" I maniacally screamed as I ran up and down each column.
"STOP HIM!" Dumbledore vociferated.
"Oh, and Neville turns out to be a pretty chill dude, I can't really troll him. But Hermione, you deci-"
"Bombardo!" A disgusted voice shouted behind me.
*BOOM*
As the hair fizzed away and my entire body became charred, I snidely and shrilly laughed as my cheekbone became lodged in place from its transformation.
"The Troll can never truly die! I've wrecked your universe enough, and now it's time to meet Bilbo Bagtard! Ahah. AHAHAHAH!" I hollered as I flew through the air.
Finally, my surroundings blurred as my consciousness dissipated from this fully roasted body.
However, I would find another host soon enough.
The Troll never dies.
[r/JackWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/jackwrites/)
| 2017-06-25T19:58:33 | 2017-06-25T14:51:44 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] The life of an NPC is hard. Laws of your town protect "heroes," who waltz into people's houses, take their stuff, and then walk away, and that's fine because they're some "saviour". Your town just revoked all of the hero protections, and the heroes are having a really hard time.
I hope this makes sense.
EDIT: okay got it it makes sense. | We *hated* our heroes. It wasn’t because they refused to help, it was because they put their own needs ahead of the town. There, I said it. Those heroes? Selfish and greedy – all of them. When the mayor had a hero barge into his own home, rummage through his cupboard, *place a cast iron pot over his head*, and steal *all* his cheese - that was the last straw. No more hero protection laws, with a city council vote of six to one.
The one holdout? The chief guard Salenbross, who had been an adventurer in his youth, until the horrible archery accident. He was convinced that one day we would ‘get what was coming to us’ for refusing to help the heroes.
It’s not like we didn’t help them, in fact, we still had high regard for heroes. We were a welcoming, accommodating town. The rates at the inn were some of the lowest in the country, and we offered secure storage for mere coppers at a weekly rate. The problem was the hero types felt that, because we were treating them as equals, we were discriminating against them.
*“I can get free cheese and unlimited potatoes from the next town over!”*
*“What do you mean I have to pay to use the forge? It’s free everywhere else!”*
*“I can’t just take your used arrows from the target?”*
We started posting signs for these things – it got a little silly. Yes, we are all treated equal here, no matter how large your Lootsack of Crushing may be.
Things took a turn for the worst when the goblin raiders attacked. Heroes didn’t want to help defend out town due to the perceived bigotry. Salenbross, with approval from the council, had to institute marshal law, and all the young boys were rounded up and equipped to fight. I was one of them. I remember holding a sword in my hands for the first time, swinging at the straw dummy. I remember our town rallying together, and by god, we beat those goblins back. A lot of us died that day, and not a single ‘hero’ stepped in to defend our town.
We were done with them. Done relying on them to rescue us. Done giving them access to every area of our homes and our stores. We made a lot of arrests in that week, and a lot of enemies. A few legitimately honorable heroes stepped in to defend us against those who thought our treatment was injustice. Most were pardoned – some took to fighting.
Looking back, revoking the hero protections was the best decision our town ever made. Military education became mandatory as soon as one could swing a sword. Over the course of ten years, our small town transformed from a helpless hamlet into a well defended city. Since we no longer gave free goods away to these ‘heroes’ we had an excess to trades with neighboring villages. Our economy bloomed, and in a few short years we had become a local boon for defense, trade, and civil rights.
So no, you can’t just barge into a home, knock over all the decorations with fireballs, take three sweet rolls and leave - but you can expect fair, equal treatment - as it should be. | "But the prophecy - "
"Gods damn the prophecy," the burly innkeep growled. "You 'hero types' aren't welcome at Crossings." The door to the Lusty Wench slammed shut, blocking off the warmth and light of the inn. She trudged on; curtains rustled behind dark windows as the townsfolk watched her.
"Cursed hicks. I just wanted one night to relax and gear up before delving into the Midnight Thicket; now how am I going to stock up on healing potions..."
The adventurer's brisk pace slowed to a halt; in front of her was the local apothecary, if the growing healroot was any sign. She knocked; politely at first, then violently.
"W-We're closed!" a frail voice called out.
"That's a shame." Pondering whether or not to use her lockpicks, she decided that brute force was, as usual, the best option. She kicked at the door while the old woman inside shrieked. The door fell, the light within the hut revealing a greedy glint in the young woman's eyes as she gazed at the collection of roots and herbs.
"By the Mayor's decree, stop!"
Boots and armor clattered behind her as the town's militia gathered in front of the apothecary.
"Please, just leave." The herbalist pleaded.
"I have a better idea." The adventurer laughed, stuffing her bags full of herbs.
"Anyone so much as makes a move and the herbalist dies!" She called out. The outside of the hut was remarkably silent as the 'hero' looted everything that wasn't nailed down, including the woman's silverware and pots.
The adventurer heard a bird's call, and then everything was a rush. The apothecary stood tall, brandishing what she had thought was a wooden spoon. The tip of the wand glowed red hot; the adventurer tried to lunge at her (rule #1: gank the mage) but failed as the earth crumbled beneath her. She landed on another body or three; she couldn't tell between all the hard joints poking into her side.
Outside the hut, the militia dispersed. "Seems a little cruel, doesn't it?" A guard asked, walking back to base. The captain shook his head. "Heroes don't stay dead, and they have a nasty habit of slipping out of cells. A hole in the ground's the easiest and safest way to put them." | 2018-10-22T11:34:04 | 2018-10-22T11:22:54 | 223 | 42 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other. | ''Claudius.''
''Malcolm."
"How much time do we have?"
"Four days. A week at the most. Bastion and his Dark Horde approach from the north--"
"Shut it Malcolm. Spare me the details. This is the tenth time you've summoned me. ONLY ME!"
"Claudius. I'm sorry. I'm doing my best."
"No more excuses! The Dead Army awaits! Primed to defend the honor of our homeland! King Clyde and his pitiful knights will be crushed under the might of the Dark Horde. Blood will fill the streets of Havendell. The lineage of my people. OUR people will be wiped from the histories. Clyde needs the Dead Army."
"I can't explain it. The relics are aligned. The spells ring true from my lips. But still only you, mighty general of ages gone by, only you rise from the underworld."
"You weak, dishonored fool. I knew the day would come when the Dark Horde would march again. Sadly not in my lifetime. If so I would have buried Bastion's primordial evil myself with only my mortal hands to guide me. But alas, he did not rise while I breathed earth's pure air. So I, like the legions of warriors now stewing in the underworld, embraced the destiny of darkness and allowed you--you immortal, lowly, necromancer, to bring forth the banishment curse upon our deaths so that we would not rise to eternal harmony but instead wait for our call to awaken once more as walking dead soldiers, maddened to defend the motherland."
"Claudius, please don't lose faith."
"FAITH! You speak of faith!"
"We still have time."
"Damn you Malcolm. You have no understanding of what existence is like in the underworld. I earned my way into the heavens through valor and bravery! My men earned their way into eternal grace! And we chose the darkness!"
"There is still hope for freedom for you Claudius. Just take the dagger to your heart and I won't speak the banishment curse. Even if I do manage to raise the Dead Army, there is no guarantee you will defeat the Dark Horde."
"Speak the curse. Thrust the dagger. And speak the damn curse!" | Sometimes you have to meet predictability with a certain amount of detachment. It was for that reason that I barely looked up as the disheveled young man stepped out of my fireplace, several feet from the large carpet I normally used for these sort of things. Underrated summoning vessels, carpets. Everyone rolls up a dead body in one, but no one ever thinks to try it in reverse.
"Take care not to get too much ash on the carpet, Albus," I said, my eyes still on the scrolls in front of me.
"Sorry, headmaster," the young man said, his eyes downcast as he carefully stepped around to the front of my desk.
"It's alright. Sit, have a frog. What happened this time?" I asked crisply.
"He was the only one there again, headmaster. He didn't want to come this time," Albus said meekly. "Sir, with all respect, people over there have their own problems. No one wants to volunteer to come to the mortal world anymore."
I put my head in my hands and sighed. This brilliant young man, with his stupid wispy little patches of beard on his face, was my last hope. But how often could I keep sending him into the Ether before his power became too great for the mortal realm? How many times could I send him in search of my beloved before he never returned at all?
| 2017-07-22T09:22:22 | 2017-07-22T08:06:50 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Instead of enslaving us, the aliens integrated humanity as equals. Mankind never forgot this. | Teachers...how could this be?
We waited a hundred years before leaving our Solar System, as advised by our Teachers. During this time, we have perfected the Negative Mass Drive and the Quantum Foam Collection Reactor.
As the eager students we were, we set out to be integrated to the rest of the Avon Collective, which encompassed roughly two thirds of the Laniakea Supercluster.
Immeasurable Heavens...celestial lines of unspeakable beauty and light charting the veins of matter, never to be repeated as the local groups that constitute it drift further apart.
Yet, no one to witness it. Save humanity. Whom only ventured forth to find desolation and ruin amongst the apathetic stars.
Empty agri-worlds, lifeless ecumenopoli, inactive Dyson Swarms, and ring worlds the circumference of Earth's orbit around the sun, laid in disrepair.
Finally, we found the capital of the Avon Collective, a massive four light-years in height rhombus, roughly a hundred and twenty-five million light years away from the Earth.
As we approached the structure, aptly named 'Testimony', a superluminal message broadcasted to every human settlement, station, ship, and outpost. Every single human received this message at once, from the mother picking up her children in the solar system over, to the grandparents reclining in their gravity chairs, watching the artifical auroras in the sky, to children complaining about their Advanced Augmented Virtual Entertainment (AAVE) Systems being interrupted.
We saw our Teachers for the first time in eleven hundred years. Streams of warm liquid flowed from the eyes of almost every human as we took in their gemstone-like scales and glowing purple eyes once more.
"Greetings, our friends. If you are receiving this broadcast, it means we were successful, and that we, the reptilian species, the Avons, have been extinct-"
"..."
"-for one hundred million years. We have placed space-time manipulators over every celestial body in your solar system, the day we met, our Friends. For the Universe at the time was in the midst of the Great War. What a name for such a waste. Thus we considered it kinder for you to be sheltered from this madness. As a final gesture, and a physics lesson, we will now translocate the entire Laniakea supercluster into a younger alternate version of our universe. Right next to Young Laniakea. Take care, and know that we always cared for you, however and I quote "ever-infuriatingly-cryptic-smug-space-dragon-wankers," we may have come off as."
///
In an instant, the Observable Universe realigned itself, and we saw Quasi-Stars, stars born from the extremely pure primordial stellar gas clouds, reaching up to ten million solar masses.
So, with stars that were only possible within the first half billion years of the Universe in human sight, we indeed apparently ended up in an alternative younger universe.
Perhaps this time, we shall be the smug Teachers from the stars. | “Good evening, Lord Serith.”
The Erolan sat across the table from Jacques, molding it’s form to the human seat. It’s membrane stiffened, holding the single- felled organism intact. Electrical impulses rippled through its central core, before an implanted voice box uttered further.
“I am deeply sorry. I must bring terrible news.”
Jacques signaled his cook to bring the nutrient paste developed for Erolans.
“Well, my friend, I am certain it cannot be all that bad! You have always brought the people of earth nought but aid, with your medicines and such!”
The French Lord poured his guest a glass of wine, perfect in his role of Planetary ambassador.
“As your host, though, surely we can allow you to rest a day, my friend.”
Jacques enjoyed his own glass, smiling at his counterpart. The Erolan consumed their meal rapidly, then turned back.
“I apologize, Lord Serith. This news cannot be held off. I fear to say that yet in the space beyond, as it is known in your world, more species than simply the confederacy of worlds exist and have risen to the attack, on the confederacy.”
Serith frowned.
“Grave news indeed, ambassador. May the nations of Earth aid you in defense, in any way? Our swords and lives would be happy recompense for the aid given in your vaccines and other technologies. I myself am happy to lead a force to support your forces, should that be helpful!”
The Erolan paused, then spoke.
“But of course, your Lordship. I appreciate your offer greatly; however, I much doubt even your armies would be able to give much to our war effort. I must only inform you that our defenses upon your land must retreat- and if you are to meet further aliens who are not of the Confederacy, I would have you repel them as safely as you can.”
The Erolan seemed to sigh as one of its protein channels released a puff of hydrogen gas.
“I regret not being able to aid your peoples more, ambassador. The confederacy shall return, and make right then what we cannot now.” | 2022-12-19T16:18:04 | 2022-12-19T15:31:19 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | William grabbed a recliner out of thin air, sat down, made some snacks of his own, and began to watch it as though his life were on a projector screen.
He witnessed his birth and early months where his mother got into a car accident, leaving his father to raise him by himself for a couple of years since the grandparents died before William was even an atom. Saw how his childhood was shaped by his step-mother who dotted on William and his father, making plenty of memories there. Dear dad teaching him to not let the bullies get to him, to prove William was better than them. The teenage years are where he met his first and second romances; both not lasting very long before he graduated high school with slightly-above average marks. From there saw how apprenticeship went as a carpenter, learning tricks of the trade before meeting his destined lover before he was finished trade school.
Married in their late 20s and having a boy of their own before William’s dad passed away from cancer a few months later. Soon after we’re twin girls at the age of 30, raising them being easier thanks to step-mom, now a grandma who spoils the 3 children rotten. 52 is when his step-mother passed away herself peacefully with William, his wife, and 3 kids at her side. Retirement at 74 when he figured he had enough of building for other people, wanting to create wood art in his senior years. Celebrating his 50th golden anniversary with his beloved, their 3 kids, and 8 grandkids of their own was one of William’s favourite days; just wished his dad and step-mom had a chance to see. It wouldn’t be until at 103 years of age that William figures he lived long enough, and with a long deep breath, he took his final sleep with his wife at his side, knowing she wouldn’t be too far from following him next.
William watched the same thing a couple more times, knowing he could change the outcome of things, but never doing so. Would he have wanted to meet his biological mom? Absolutely he figured, but then William would never get to meet his step-mom, and who knows what else would change from there. The way he looked at it all, it was all meant to happen to come to this conclusion.
Through a wrinkled smile and a glimmer in his jade-like eyes, William softly spoke “I think that’ll be it for now. Maybe watch it again later if I get the chance.”
“You’re not going to do anything to change?” Death asked from behind the recliner with scales in hand. Perplexed at the old man, Death’s red orbs for eyes followed the turn of William’s head to face the reaper.
“No, I don’t think I will.” Grinning at the shadow covered skeleton with eyes closed, proud of what he had accomplished in it.
Death’s hollow voice rang softly through the air around them “Most choose to edit a thing or 10. Some change entire outcomes to their ends from certain points. Few ever leave it unchanged save for some hair-dye there or a change of scenery here. Fewer still leave it as is, such as you. Why?”
William turned back around to the projector screen, with some tears starting to run down his eyes.
“I suppose that this is as good as it would ever get. I had a pretty good run. I don’t think changing anything about that life would make it any better or worse. It was mine and I’m proud of it.”
Death nodded then stepped beside William, before turning to show the old man a glowing passage with mist coming through it.
“The scales have judged you William. They find you kind and worthy of heaven, you may now step forward when you are ready.” The voice echoing through the infinite void surround them.
“Yeah, I suppose it’s time. But would you mind if I give it another watch before leaving?”
“You can watch it again in the clouds above, why here?” The skeletal figure tilted their head curiously.
“True, but I figure you wouldn’t mind joining me and having some snacks if you want to.”
Another reclining chair popped into existence besides William. Patting the seat welcoming the deathly figure to join.
“I suppose, no harm after all.”
And so two ancient beings, one countless more eons older than the other, watched a man’s life together with their feet kicked up and backs relaxed on their chairs. When they were done, both bid each other good-bye, before the younger of the two vanished into the white fog of heaven. | A flickering then an eventual fade into darkness - those were the last of memories of Hex.
Hex regained consciousness in a pleasant room. Antique bookshelves covered all fours filled with countless hardbound books, the scent of pine cones waft in the air. A desk separated Hex and an old man with a long, gray beard. On the desk, a pendulum swings.
"Your time is up. Now, you can do as you wish in this new world. Any regrets you may have had, any unsolved problems, any lost friendships - you can redeem them or throw them in the darkness. The actions you take as we move you to the next stage is all in your control." The man raised his forehead, pointing two of his fingers at me. "Any questions?"
"Yes. What if I'd prefer *not* to tamper with the events in my past life?"
The man had a deep, resounding voice as he laughed. "Are you not curious with the *what ifs* of your life? There are infinite numbers of things that you could have done. We have a complete list of all the winning lottery tickets across all 50 states. You can relive your wedding. The possibilities are endless."
"Is life always about winning? About tying all knots? I had a meaningful, flawed existence - and having to go through it again with the knowledge I have now would be a blow to my self. I would be happy, sure, but pleasure is not my end goal. My self-respect would wane and the relationships, no, the *perceptions* of my relationships would be utterly distorted."
The man frowned, jotting a short, continuous stroke. "The change need not be separate from the life you have previously lived. If you wish, you can replay the exact same sequence of life decisions. Your moral righteousness offends all the people that have been in your place." The man paused, his eyes light up as if remembering something. "Right, you're a theist. *Of course* you subscribe to that line of thought. What if I told you, say, there is no god to judge you this time around?"
"That doesn't change things. My worldview goes beyond spirituality. With whatever I do, I cannot control the things that have happened in the past. Being able to relive it would lead me to fall under the loop of regretting past actions, however flawed they may be. And if it comes to that, the life I may have once perceived as meaningful would wither away and be replaced with something hollow."
The man interrupted. "We can rewire the events in your new experience. We could ensure your situation remains pleasant and that you won't fall astray."
"That's not the point." Hex sighed. "Having my life tampered with would remove the beauty in its fleeting existence. Being placed in a pleasure simulator is not conducive to a fulfilling life."
The old man stroke his beard and exhaled, pondering.
After a few quiet moments, the old man finally stood up and ripped the paper from his clipboard and placed it in a chute that was camouflaged with the books behind him. He looked at Hex.
"You passed. Well, rather, it's quite odd. You don't seem like the type to enjoy the conventional view of heaven, what *did* you expect to come after death?" The old man asked curiously.
"A nice spa bath. My back is quite sore. And after that, non-existence. To flutter in the air. To be a star in space. Pure, unadulterated, non-existence."
"Okay." | 2020-07-20T03:16:22 | 2020-07-20T03:04:41 | 1,541 | 269 |
[WP] After earth blew up, you and your close friends who are all immortal are scattered into the cosmos. You land on a planet which, while devoid of life, has water. Start a civilization. Guide them to the stars, in order to reunite with your friends. | +Day Zero+
I crawled out of the wreckage with not inconsiderable effort. Trying to get out of blazing shuttle wreckage is pretty unusual as you're usually dead on impact, but as I'm sort of special I managed to haul my sorry ass towards the river, about 100m clear, before the wreckage collapsed in on itself. The way hyper space fuel burns, the fires were out almost immediately, so once my shattered pelvis, broken bones and multiple flesh wounds had healed I started getting all my gear out of the storage compartments. I figure if the others got to thier shuttles than I'll have a week or so to wait before they find me.
If not then here's home for the foreseeable...
+Day 95+
Being the son of a black Smith has once again had its advantages, this time in the fact when the locals showed up and tried to work out what was going on I was making hunting arrows. Now they've moved me into one of what appears to be the chiefs huts. They've also given me a guy I think called Banu, to try and settle me in. New language time.
I don't know if it'd be easier teaching them to speak...
+Day 400+
To my utter shock Banu overthrew his uncle last night in what looked like a vote. It's one solar year since I ended up here but now I'm chief's architect, blacksmith, and tutor rolled into one.
Banu sat me down and went through his new plans...
+Day 40000+
The city governor came out to the residence today. Usually these days they just seem happy to leave me be with the garden, the books they're transcribing from the dying ships mainframe, and my two hundred guards/jailers.
Not to be to rude about the Deki civilization but occasional gratitude for kick starting thier civilization would be if not nice then occasionally welcome. Ten years they've asked or insisted I stay here so the other emerging city states don't get uneasy about the never aging Earth Born alien with about three thousand years worth of lifetime behind him. Apparently some the ones playing catch up might think I'm a God and as the Deki have seen my mistakes as well as my success they know I'm definitely just a universal oddball.
Anyway, the governor...
+Day 9,560,459+
I don't know if they're totally sure what the thing is. They helped build it but it's such a leap forward just because I was getting bored. Countdown to launch started a few hours ago. I've told Empress Cili to destroy the launch tower and reuse the steel after I'm gone. Bad enough I've super speeded a whole race's growth to just get a shuttle built but I don't want the Deki to go much further unless it's them doing the thinking. Bit late for that kind of thought now though...
+19th July 5421+
Weird that Barry should be the one to pluck my out of the void. If I should live till the heat death of the universe I don't think I'll ever forget being woken up in a loading bay of another civilizations grand cruiser and hearing such a heartfelt "G'day Cunt, meet my mates".
Turns out he, Charlotte, and Oti all found each other fairly quickly. But I was the unlucky one who went through a hyperspacial junction to the other end of the milky way. Going off the date in Oti's shuttle (the last surviving shuttle) its been a thousand years since Earth's destruction.
So for the rest of known time the four of us are back together... | I gifted myself the best gift I could, but humans turned that gift into a curse. I'm immortal now and only meeting with George and Linda will fix that. Maybe they've already found each other and are looking for me, but I can't be that optimistic, I have to assume the worse.
After the war destroyed the earth, I drifted through space for ages, it's a prison with no bars. Have you ever been so bored that you enjoy the pain of burning through a planets atmosphere?
I named the planet Starbase and I built a base with a system that would daily send SOS messages, look for an answer and search for life. I finally built a spaceship and I sailed out.
When I came back my eyes couldn't believe it. I saw grass. Grass all the way to the horizon, and trees, vines, ferns and many kinds of plants I'd never seen before in my life. I flew through the planet, getting to know my creation. My waste didn't go to waste.
I saw an 8 legged animal with 2 trunks of its head. It was the size of a cow and by far the largest animal I had seen on the planet. It was grabbing fruit from a tree and handing it over to other animals from its species. I decided I would work with this species to help me find G&L.
I hunted one of them and took it to my base. I altered its DNA to make it more intelligent, more social and capable of speech. I cloned it and got myself a little group of 8 individuals and named them makers.
I taught the makers how to speak and write, how to create and control fire and how to seed, grow and harvest food. I became their god and made them subservient. I artificially selected the best offsprings and got rid of any that wasn't up to the standards. I taught them a moral code and rules of conduct. I taught them how to mine for metals, how to cast and forge and before I could realize they started to invent things of their own.
They made skates for their feet so they don't have to walk. They invented guns by themselves that they used to kill inferior makers and I, desperate for progress, encouraged them.
The makers discovered from my base how electricity works and had an industrial revolution of their own. I was proud of my makers only needing an occasional push in the right direction.
&#x200B;
They soon passed my own knowledge and capacity. They questioned my authority and motives for reaching to the stars. They came at night. They took me as their prisoner to discover immortality for their own benefit.
As I look out the window I can see the original makers, so different from my own creation. Cooperative, peaceful, content. I'm again a prisoner of my own creation. | 2021-07-20T22:56:24 | 2021-07-20T22:48:39 | 106 | 63 |
[WP] You move to a small town full of vampires and werewolves. Instead of becoming entangled in a love triangle you just want to be left alone, despite there best efforts to win you over. | The banging on the door just wouldn’t stop. For the last three days, you’ve heard that rhythmic wooden whine constantly tap at the front of your house. As you sit in your bedroom desperately trying to ignore the noise, you take a peek out your curtains to see which of the two was still bothering you. While the night is dark and hazy, you manage to make out what seems to be a tail.
&nbsp;
It’s the werewolf then, you think to yourself. You open the meat freezer to see if there’s anything left in it. Only a few scraps of bacon and some leftover hot dogs. You reminisce about when this freezer used to be filled with meats, now only an empty husk of its former self. Slowly opening your window so as to not extract attention, you throw the remaining meat in the direction of the banging. The wolf scurries towards it, viciously gnawing the food into bits and pieces. Hopefully this will keep it occupied for a few hours, as you’re out of supplies to distract it with. Lying down on your bed, you try to get some sleep with the few hours of silence you’ve bought.
&nbsp;
*Knock knock* It hadn’t even been a full 10 minutes before the banging returned. There’s no way it’s the werewolf again. That meat should’ve kept him occupied for longer, you pondered. Taking a glance outside, you see what appears to the mailman. You smile, thanking whatever gods were up there that you could finally talk to another normal person. You take big strides towards the foyer of your home, excited to see someone that wasn’t pestering you to “pick a side.” However, just as you reach for the handle, you feel a sudden sense of caution overtake you. Who’s delivering the mail so late at night? Instead of throwing open the door as you had instinctively planned to do earlier, you leave the chain that held the door in place while only opening it slightly.
&nbsp;
“Package for Mr. Simmons,” you hear come through the crack.
&nbsp;
“Just leave it at the front, I’ll grab it later,” you reply warily, hoping to get him to leave as soon as possible.
&nbsp;
“Sure thing, I just need you to sign something for me real quick.”
&nbsp;
“Slide it through the crack. I’ll return it to you after.” You feel a sense of looming dread.
&nbsp;
“I can’t do that sir, protocol requires that I be the one holding the device while you give your signature.”
&nbsp;
Protocol my ass. You quickly grab some of the garlic you had prepped on a table and chuck a clove or two where there’s space. Immediately, you hear a hissing sound from what is now clearly a vampire in a stolen uniform. Slamming the door shut, you begin to softly cry at how you could have been so naive. Your door once again begins to bang.
&nbsp;
“Please just tell us! Edward or Jacob?”
&nbsp;
“Fuck off!” you shout through the tears, running back to your room with what sanity you have left. | "Join us!" Silverback growled. "Become smarter than any beast, stronger than any man, greater than both! Take the blessing of the moon to be your own, and join the hunt!" The pack howls behind him, in a near frenzied state.
"No! Trust not the words of mangy dogs, who think 'a man to a man is wolf' is positive saying!" Retorted Lestare, his Cape billowing majestically in the wind."Partake in the blood of the elders, receive the curse of Cain and become a hidden master of this realm!" As he said that the shadows behind him become more defined, birthing out more and more vampires.
"Do you jackasses not understand the meaning of the word 'NO'?!?" The tanned skinned man shouted from his door step. "I'm not interested in the curse of the moon, or Cain's blessing.".
"Actually, it's-" both representatives tried to correct the man, and were firmly cuttoff.
"It's idiocy, and a bismerchment upon my family name is what it is. Now, each of you will have two minutes to give me some very, and I mean **EXTREMLY**" The brown-haired man pointedly emphasised "Good reasons to be on my door step, or I'm getting my shotgun.".
There is a pause, and then rokus laughter erupts from both of the arguing sides.
The man sighs, rubbs his black stubble beard, and disappears into the house.
He emarges ten seconds later, holding a semi-automatic shotgun. That seems to only increase the laughter.
The man takes aim.
He pulls the trigger.
The silence following the shot is deafening, except for the gasping of the pack leader, Silverback, whose left lung is now spread far to wide to be of use.
Before anyone can react, the man spins and shoots The head of the vampire clan who called himself Lestare, but strongly seemed like a "Dave" to him.
"My Name is Ivan Hellsing. I know exactly how to kill your kind. So, I will now repeat my *very* generous offer - two minutes, off my lawn, shotgun. We clear?".
The yard was empty not twenty seconds later. | 2021-04-25T09:04:51 | 2021-04-25T07:07:40 | 44 | 23 |
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