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] You are a minor supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas. | "THE MAN OF STEEL IS DEAD!"
Every newspaper stand carries a variation on the same story.
Of course that hack Lex is getting the credit. They think he just *punched* the kryptonian hard enough.
But it was my victory. The monsters who think themselves *gods* will pay. They play around in silly outfits and showing off, pulling their punches. It's the little people who pay the price.
5 years ago the psycho dressed like a bat was having one of his little drag races with some "villain" gang. I dont think he even noticed the market stall he hit part way through. But my brother was inside.
4 years ago I got a post on the board regulating street vendors.
6 months ago Bruce wanes body was pulled from a wreck wrapped around one of the new reinforced steel bollards I'd had added to the regs for anchoring market stalls.
Legally it was a storm safety measure.... but it had the desired effect. Nobody else will get crushed by that playboy maniac.
As for the kryptonian.... That monster was never careful. 3 years ago when he was playing with one of his rivals he threw them through an office block. My fiance had just started a new job as a secretary. There wasnt even a body to bury, just pulp.
My latest business has been selling office desk toys. You would be surprised how far a small quantity of kryptonite can go if you grind it into fine enough powder.
A million desk toys in a million offices, each with a fine powder of kryptonite on their surface. Then it was just a matter of waiting until the man of steel played another of his games around the city office blocks.
When you're "faster than a speeding bullet" it doesnt really matter if the bullet hits you or you hit the bullet. | The screams of people in the downtown of Serenity Falls can be heard loudly. People are running wild from the notorious villain Amen Mai Sun who is firing guns blazing down Safety Street. His aimless shooting absolutely taking no victims, but instilling fear in those civilians by having no desire to being the first person Amen Mai Sun has ever killed.
However in the distance, the sounds of a 6th grade symphony can be heard which ONLY MEANS that POWERUPMAN is arriving to the scene. The civilians keep running for their lives not stopping for nothing but the thickest of shelters like the titanium food truck about 5 blocks away near St. Tanic Hospital.
It takes over 30 minutes of 6th grade Trumpet fanfares and levitation before Amen Mai Sun realizes POWERUPMAN has arrived on the scene.
"POWERUPMAN. How great of you to join me. I never thought it would take you so long to ge..."
"Amen. Ive been floating here for 30 minutes." POWERUPMAN harshly interjects.
"Well, THAT'LL BE THE LAST 30 MINUTES YOULL EVER FLOAT...?!" Amen Mai Sun shouts before unloading his aimless nature towards POWERUPMAN. In a stroke of luck, Amen Mai Sun actually hits POWERUPMAN sending him flying backwards into a fruit stand However, it doesn't break. POWERUPMAN realizing that this fruit stand > plot armor, he picks it up and throws it towards AMEN MAI SUN with all of his might. Amen tries his hardest to dodge away, but is unable to because the good guys always win. The fruit stand hits Amen Mai Sun and completely eviscerates his body leaving nothing but a grocery list of 3 lemons and 2 sugar.
The town people emerge outta everything: bushes, corners, potholes, stores, and behind POWERUPMAN to see if they were finally safe. They saw Amen Mai Sun was gone and did the only right course of action. They charge POWERUPMAN with felonies that'll send his ass straight to prison.
POWERUPMAN screams at the populace "WHY?! I SAVES ALL OF YOU."
But, a small boy comes up and says, "You killed more people than that man ever had motherfucka. And, murder is a felony. So you going to prison and hell, first class."
------
[Sounds of a TV turns off]
"And, that is how I became a minor supervillain! I made all of you murderers!" I say giddily into a room of all the superheroes I locked up. *Goodbye now* | 2020-01-14T00:30:01 | 2020-01-14T00:02:18 | 242 | 43 |
[WP] The edge of the world is real and every few years miles of it crumbles away into the void, forcing people to constantly move toward the ever expanding centre. You're a RimRunner, scavenging the abandoned cities before they slip over the edge. | There were, it had been said to me, over and over again, two different types of rim runners.
There were the amateurs. They had no expertise, no pride, no shame. They stole, and didn't much care if what they stole was actually *abandoned* when they did so. They took risks, mostly foolhardy ones, and their life expectancy was best measured in weeks.
I was told the tale of one of the luckiest ones, who had lasted long enough for my family to get to know him. Almost a year, he'd lasted, but he went the same way that all the amateurs go, in the end.
My family was not like that.
We knew geology. How long different stone types took to fall, how easy (and hard) it was to tell if they were still stable. There were places on earth where you wouldn't know that there was void beneath your feet until a crack formed, miles towards the center, and then it was *far* too late.
We knew construction. Not just local construction, not just recent construction. No, we knew all manner of things about all manner of buildings, past and present. We could calmly take treasures from a building three-quarters over the edge, and also knew which buildings would collapse the moment a corner was over empty air.
We knew technology. We knew which things were valuable, which things merely *looked* valuable, which things were valuable but also liable to explode.
We knew history. We could tell you, with a hasty glance, if something might be some precious ancient relic, or simply scrap on a pedestal.
We knew art. Periods, styles, individual artists. We could tell you who painted something as well as any museum curator, and spot fakes at least as well.
And, yes, we knew weapons. It was dangerous work, and not simply because of the ground falling away. Amateurs everywhere, late evacuees, the occasional maniac who didn't know or care that everything they had ever known was about to fall to the void. We remained, always, true to our code: *Only* in self-defense. It was tempting, not least since the amateurs often *knew* this, or learned, and would swipe valuables from us.
It was also well known that using a weapon for *that* meant instant expulsion from the family. It was a sufficiently dire threat to prevent abuse of weaponry, though there was certainly temptation, from time to time.
We were not thieves. Yes, we took what others left, and, yes, we were wealthy. But we returned what we could, and stocked the central museums at *very* favorable terms. Those who bought day passes to the centermost cities could see the full glory and splendor of civilizations past, mostly thanks to us.
We helped evacuate, and our mere presence calmed locals, let them know that there was still time, though also not *much* time. The sight of our family at work was a well known signal- "The time to leave is neither behind you nor ahead of you. It is now."
There was speculation, endless speculation, about what the end would look like, when the end would come. For all that we knew, our family could not have said more than this: The end will come. And when it does, we will be working still, preserving what can be preserved, until the final moments. While we work, you must flee. And when we set our tools aside, look to the sky, and brace for the end. | Two hours.
That’s as long as the Los Angeles Police Department deemed safe for us when what remained of the Pacific began to spill over into the void. The alert went out one week ago for families to pack and relocate inwards towards, and as the populace began to migrate toward the Nevada border, the Rim Runners slipped into the now falling city.
Some of us pillage for sport, others for pure adrenaline. For the homeless and lower class, the sporadic “Shifts” every few years became a treasure hunt for escape from their personal hells. Hired by corporations or the government, a portion of Runners hauled-out anything left of importance for a lump sum. But not everyone loves the government. Some people want more.
I wanted more.
The pirates of old, the gangs of now, the Rim-Rats fight for themselves, taking what we are owed and profiting off our own sense of stupidity. While local police departments and governments will issue public estimates of how long the Runners would have before becoming viable to the eminent calamity, Rats push onwards. A lack of sponsor means no responsibilities. The only figure that matters is yourself, and every second you’re on the inside is another dollar in your pocket. Gangs of Rats will divide and conquer, pulling into town with trucks and semis to maximize profit. Some take it upon themselves to jack a car or two to fill with valuables and ride out with a scot-free grand theft auto. There are no lines to be crossed, no holds barred. As long as you stay out of another gang’s claim, they’ll stay out of yours.
I crossed the approximated inward-border of the Shift and made my way into the now deserted city. The roar of the ever-growing Pacific waterfall grew louder and louder, and masked my footsteps as I split from the other Rats that walked in with me. I work alone by choice, armed with nothing but a camera at my side. My thievery is much more subtle, and often times more profitable than taking a TV or two from already-slim pickings.
I steal memories. I profit off of nostalgia and pawn-off lingering feelings.
A picture is worth a thousand dollars to some, gratitude much more than words could ever express. I shoot landmarks, buildings, homes and valuables to post online later for clout or auction off to the highest bidder. Who wouldn’t want the last images of a snowy, winter sunrise over Tokyo? Or the final moments before the Sydney Opera House falls into oblivion? There is always a highest bidder. There is always an open wallet.
I worked my way down to the bay, checking my timer on the walk to monitor my remaining time. 1h 47m. The boardwalk and its silent splendor welcomed me as I walked between bungalows and street stands. I began shooting, picture after picture, frame after frame. One last look at a carousel in the waning sunlight was sure to fetch a pretty penny.
As I turned to move more inland, a figure caught the corner of my eye. A thatched pork pie hat sat on top of a thinning head of hair. A tweed jacket provided a nice contrast to the dull, grey leather of the wheelchair that was parked to overlook the sea. I saw no movement as I lifted the viewfinder to my face. There was no sense of urgency to the man in the chair, and I hesitated, finger over the shutter button as I waited for a something to change. A twitch, a nod, a head turn. Something to tell me he needed help.
I waited. I waited for 5 minutes. Nothing.
I frowned and took the shot. As I lowered the camera from my face, I took one last look toward my subject. Bright green eyes stared back at me, half hidden by eyelids pushed up by a wide smile. He turned back to watch the now dipping sun over the pier, and I followed his gaze farther out into the bay. I could see the Shift line drawing nearer, but saw no intent by the man to move.
I sighed, “Goodbye, Mr. Pork Pie Hat.”
Sometimes pictures are priceless.
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*Interested in more? Head over to r/DrummaBoWrites for more responses to amazing prompts like this one!* | 2020-01-28T19:48:23 | 2020-01-28T16:30:55 | 2,070 | 606 |
[WP] Four immortal beings rule over the land. A dragon that flies across the deserts in the south, a living dungeon whose Labyrinth seems to go on forever in the caves of the west, The Kraken, so large that it can sink islands with ease, beneath the seas of the east & the 'Man' of the north. | "I prefer The Dude" the immortal ruler of the North declared. "Pass me another beer."
Since my pilgrimage to the four immortals I've learned much wisdom and gained immense magical powers.
I learned how to channel the breath of life, Ki, into my body to strengthen myself far above mortal limits. I learned to expel ki to create magic.
The Labyrinth forced me to learn reflexes, awareness, and to hone my skills to nearly legendary limits.
The Kraken challenged me to combat where I pushed myself to the brink of death only to narrowly be spared. Through this challenge my ability to allow my mind to override the feeble physical limitations brought me to the uppermost limits of human potential.
Now all of my skill, powers, and potential have availed me naught. I have no idea what I am supposed to learn from "The Dude".
After a month of meditation, futile discussion, and immense frustration I finally lost it after the 13th beer this morning!
"Why?!? What lesson can you possibly teach me?" I screamed at the immortal ruler of the North.
He looked pleased though, rather than upset, as he turned and focused his eyes in an uncharacteristic moment of focus.
"Why." He said smugly.
"That's what I want to know!"
"Good."
"What?!?"
"The lesson is: 'why?' You have dedicated the last decade or more of your life to gaining all of this power. You can perform miracles almost on par with what I can. Now you simply need to learn: why did you gain this power? What is the purpose?"
A profound peace came over me. I stared at him as my mind raced over all the sacrifices I had made, experiences i have had, and myriad paths my future could take.
My moment of profound understanding was broken by the sudden introduction of a cold beer pressed into my hand.
"I'll drink to that." I finally responded.
"Good. Maybe there's still hope for you yet."
For more of my stories: https://www.reddit.com/u/BalrogTheBuff?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share | "They called them the Primordials, four ancient, eternal beings who stood at each corner of the world, reigning, unchallenged, over all that resided there -- Tartarus, the living prison, a hellish, labyrinthine dimension whose ever-growing walls encaged thousands of prisoners, starving them, depriving them of the comforts of sleep, drink, or company, driving them to states of utter madness, and yet keeping them alive, barely, but eternally, so that they may suffer the never-ending torments it holds for them; Dragomira, the enormous, magnificent dragon with scales of metal, whose hide gleamed with as many colours as the flames she breathed, whose claws and fangs of polished bronze shone brilliantly in the desert sun, whose wings, when unfurled, would cast miles of her territory into shadow.
"Kraken, the monstrous, squid-like being who ruled the seas, whose massive tentacles stirred storms like dust on the beach, whose fin tore through the hulls of ships as easily as a knife through butter; and the man, he who was carved from stone, from whom was sprung humanity, he who towered over all the rest, with his hair of grass and leaves, his eyes like boulders, and blood like the oil that flows underground -- Typhon.
"No man has ever seen one and lived."
"But then how does anyone know what they look like?" Rio asked incredulously, staring at Old Jeller, as he finished his story.
"What are you asking me, boy?" the elder snapped. "You asked me to tell you a story and I did!"
"But you don't really believe that any of that exists?" Asterion said doubtfully.
The old man merely shrugged.
"Well, thanks for the story anyway," said Rhea dismissively, getting to her feet and brushing off, "but here's our ride."
A dozen elephantine horses had just trotted into view, herded by a rather frightened-looking old man.
"Yeah, thanks, but we really should go," Asterion said, and he rose too.
"Where ya headed anyway?" Jeller asked.
"To the desert."
"Ah, be careful on your way there," Jeller said, "Dragomira doesn't take too kindly to trespassers." And the old man grinned.
"Yeah, we're terrified," Asterion said, holding up his arms in mock fear, but grinning as well. "You take care of yourself old man."
"Bye," said Rio and Rhea together, and the three youths departed to mount a suitable horse.
If you enjoyed this, visit r/MysticScribbles for more, I'm actually considering serializing this! | 2020-04-19T09:31:18 | 2020-04-19T08:21:26 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] as part of the disarmament protocol you, the superhero, are going through the lair of the supervillain you killed. you expect morbid trophies but find meticulously detailed investigations all over. as you crosscheck the details you begin to realise in horror that he might have been an antihero. | As I approached the lair, I was shocked by its simplicity. I expected luxury, but it was just a old broken down apartment.
It used to belong to Phoenix, a villain I fought. He wielded fire like nobody else could, and was a master engineer, oftenly using his gadgets in combat.
He was a right hand man of the greatest villain, Locus.
I entered expecting traps, but found none.
The interior was small, and mainly empty. It contained a toilet, and a bedroom. In the bedroom there was a single laptop, a bed, a chair, and a table.
I sat down in front of the laptop, and after numerous tries I unlocked it.
I was greeted by Windows 10, and a single file, labeled 'Evidence'.
I opened it and was shocked. Inside were numerous photos of Locus and journal entries.
After digging through them, it dawned on me.
The reason he never tried to kill me, but only subdue me. The reason he never pillaged. The reason he never tried to hunt me down.
He was undercover.
His plan was simple, approach Locus, gain his trust, and murder him.
I sat there in realization of what I've done.
I've murdered a innocent man. Somebody... who only wanted justice. | He begin walking on what's left of this "enemy's" hall full of his victors and ventures, watching as the horror of seeing not one, but many of his adventures are meticulously crafted to serve all of his deeds.
"One... out of many" he said.
As he walk through the "Hallway of Ventures" he called, at the end of the walkway, he found a huge cylindrical complex, that is not only breathtaking, but also pitifully dark that any objects drop don't seem to land. Towards the end, there's a computer in the middle, and before that, is a metal catwalk, that is seemed to be unused as the rust starts to show in this otberwise, sophisticated structure.
He ventured towards the computer with ease, and sat down to the leather chair provided on this computer.
"Okay, let's see what you have here" He lowly said.
He searched for something interesting, his files, his computer, his search, his entire life, only to find... Nothing. Nothing but simple life of his own family on who he was before. Sure he got evil plans beside this and all, but, as he goes on to his files, he begin swallowing his own beliefs as he saw all of this, in a single computer, his past, his memory, all of his childhood, tarnished.
Our hero, deeply searched for answers in his own downfall, apparently, he was part of an organization; an organization without purpose, nothing more than a front to serve his masters as his life begin to crumple to a complete disillusioned man once he is today... and now the past.
Since he found nothing more other than his failures, completing his downfall to a full circle, he the contacted the Agency, and chartered an investigation to this man once more and told his masters "Think again, we have someone special"...
Ps. This is my first writing prompt and also the time I wrote in public. | 2020-07-22T13:20:28 | 2020-07-22T10:52:26 | 118 | 19 |
[WP] You are trapped in an anti-time loop; Every time you are about to die, you wake up 24 hours later, with no recollection of how you survived. You lost a year of your life already and feel no closer to find out who wants to kill you. | It happened to me a few times as a kid. It took a few times to understand what was really happening. I would wake up somewhere else. Somewhere else than I had been just yesterday. Sometimes I’d wake up on a friend’s couch. Sometimes my front lawn. Everything just goes blank, and suddenly I’m waking up to the next day. Nothing ever seemed out of place though. The days would just skip. It wasn’t until later in life and I was reflecting on these memories that I realized the days would skip when I was too close to a situation that might kill me. Swimming with my friends across a lake and I feel like I'm too tired to keep going? Day skipped. Stuff like that.
I pondered over it for a few years and only came up with a few ideas. Either the universe had cursed me with some weird form of immortality or I’m going absolutely insane. I remember hearing something in a college physics class about a certain quantum multiverse theory. I don’t remember it all, but the point was that the observer of a universe is essentially immortal because of their role as the observer; without them to observe the universe, it ceases to exist, so the universe forces them to keep living. I figured this must be the answer. Mainly because nothing else made sense and I needed any kind of idea to hold on to.
I had accepted my fate and tried my best to not think about what will happen when I get too old to live naturally. I figured functional immortality couldn’t be too bad. I tried to just let it go and live a normal life. But one day a year ago it started happening. I started blacking out regularly. Any time I would go to my house. Walking in the front door I would have about a minute to poke around before I suddenly woke up somewhere else the next day.
I was blacking out a few times a week at this point with no end in sight. If I’m not already insane living like this will certainly drive me there eventually. There’s only one reason why I would be blacking out so much. Someone must be trying to kill me. Someone must know I’m the observer.
My memories started getting foggier day by day. I had to figure out what was happening, and somehow the answer was still hidden somewhere in my house. Over and over again, I would show up to my house, determined to find the source of anything suspicious, anything that would give me a clue as to how or why I was dying, only to find myself waking up somewhere the next day. Sometimes I would even wake up with a note scrawled in sharpie on my arm; *Stop looking for it.* One day I had the idea to set up a camera in my house, so that I could see what happens after I blackout.
Everyday I would disappear somewhere off camera. If I had the camera set up near the front door, I would always see myself leaving with a face full of tears. By referencing the videos with one another I concluded that I must be going to the garden shed every time I’m home. I knew the answer must be in there.
I couldn’t resist. I had to know what was in there. If I could find the answer within a minute, I might finally figure out who’s been trying to kill me. I practically sprinted though my house to reach the back yard and garden shed. I didn’t have to look for long.
A note was lying next to a handgun. A note written in my hand.
*If I can’t die, I can at least forget. Being here just reminds me of her. If I can’t die, I will at least forget. I broke the heater on purpose. I miss her more than anything. The heater should have filled my whole house with carbon monoxide by now. Maybe poisoning myself with gas that will make me forget will finally get the job done. Even trying to blow my brains out with this gun didn’t. I just want it all to end. If I can’t die, then I must forget.*
A date from five years ago was written on the note.
Memories and emotions from the past started flooding in. I found myself crying. Five years? I was certain I’ve only been blacking out for one. *Memories of her started to come back.* My heart felt like it was going to explode. I’m done. Maybe it will work this time. I went back to the house. I scrambled for a sharpie in the kitchen and hastily started writing on my arm. I smashed the camera. Maybe I’ll stay in the house this time. I breathed deeply as I let myself collapse on the kitchen floor. Darkness filled me.
…
I woke up in my car this time. After snapping back to reality. I noticed a note on my arm; *Stop looking for it*. I gave the note a frown and a furrowed brow. “Not this again,” I said as I casually spit on the note and rubbed it away with a sleeve. It’s been a year since I’ve started blacking out, and I’m so close to figuring it out. I’m sure just one more day and I’ll figure out what’s hidden in that house. | Day x + 1 - I have completely lost count of how many "miracles" I have been a part of, and right now I don't care. I remember feeling hot last night, at least I think it was night, and cursing the air conditioning for going out yet again. However when i rolled out of bed and opens the door to check on it, there was a bright flash of light and I work up sitting in front of this church. I think I am only a block from home so I will just walk.
My house burned down!? According to the fire Department it is an absolute miracle that I was not home last night. I was nearly certain that I was, but maybe I drank too much. I can live with my parents for a while. Guess i should call them after I finish this tea one of the firemen gave me.
Day x + 2 - Damn it! There is a lingering taste of almond on my tongue, but I am in front of this damned church again. I am going home this is all a dream.
It wasn't a dream, my house is really gone. I snapped a picture this time so I don't question it again. The firefighters are gone, and some arson investigators are snooping about. Great one wants me to come down to what's left of the basement. Wonder what he found?
Day x + 3 - why can't I remember!? I wake up yet again at this damn church, with the worst hangover headache ever. I saw the picture of what was left of my house, so my day is already ruined. I'm going to the lake to relax.
This was what I needed fresh air, a gently breeze, and a beautiful sunset. It would be perfect if they were not clearing out dead trees. The last one that came down nearly hit me. I cursed that stupid lumberjack out something fierce, and he promised there will be no more near misses. Listening to to cracking as they fall is somehow com....
Day x + 4 - you know what, I am really beginning to hate seeing this church. I went back to the lake and they said someone was illegally cutting down trees, but fled before the police could grab them. The guy at the gate was nice enough to offer me a free night stay at one of the furnished campsites for the trouble. Looks like things are going my way finally. Well time to grab some sleep.
Day x + 5 - DAMN THIS CHURCH! I slept wrong on the pavement because I have some serious neck pain right now. I called the lake pissed off, and they claim they don't have furnished campsites. How stupid do they think I am? I am going to kick their ass when I get there.
I'm not proud of how I acted, but they gave me a free boat rental, so I think I'll get over it. Man this thing is fast, but it doesn't slow down well. Shit I am gonna hit the shoreline.
Day x + 6 - there is no way I did not die yesterday. I know that boat was going to fast for me to have had any chance at survival. According to the news someone stole and wrecked a boat at the lake, causing a massive fire. I don't know what is going on anymore. The church is still in front of me but I think I am going to just sleep inside for tonight. I have to figure this out.
The priest here is amazing, he told me to stay as long as I like, and brought me food and drinks durning the week I stayed. I talked with my family and they helped me realize I was on a bender since my house burned down, and everything is fine. Thank god for his church and his amazing priest, but now I think I am going to my parents house. I called an uber and they are on their way now, although they said they can only pick me up from the street. Weird but you do you I guess. On my way to hop in now wish me luck world.
Day x + 7 - 'incoherent sobbing' I woke up to my parents calling asking why I didn't come over yesterday. I ran back into this cursed church and the priest hugged me, saying he was so glad I wasn't the person they saw get shot after I left. Something is wrong I need to get protection. I'm going to the pawn shop near here to get a gun.
I did it! I have a gun. Now nothing can stop me. In fact I can shoot anyone that gets to close, yeah that'll work. Shit someone is coming right at me. BANG! Not anymore!! Haha no one can touch me. Great the cops are coming to deal with the guy who just tried to kill me. Yeah I'm absolutely safe now.
Day x + 8 - I think i killed someone, I can see their face clearly, and I have a gun. What is going on? I can't do this anymore. I cant stand the church taunting me everytime I wake up. I'm ending this now. And the gun won't fire, of fucking course. Maybe I should throw it in the lake, just in case it is a murder weapon. No the lake is dangerous. Maybe I should just stay at the church. Everything seemed fine here. Yeah that works.
I have been here for nearly four years and everyone has a vivid imagination of constantly awakening here after dying. Maybe I am not crazy, but I am taking over for the priest soon so that is all behind me now.
Day 1 - some man that reminds me a lot like myself came running in today asking for a safe place to sleep for a while. I told him he can have a bed as long as he needs, but he seems so frazzled. I looked outside for him and there was a man in a nice suit waiting for a bus. He looked back at me and winked, I wonder if maybe. | 2020-08-17T14:54:55 | 2020-08-17T14:07:07 | 354 | 76 |
[WP] Ever since you opened this bar, you still don't know why supernatural races, deities, royalty, and/or extraterrestrials keep frequenting the place. You just serve drinks and lend an ear to listen. | "And then she tells me she won't date me cause I'm younger than her. Like bro, I'm literally just 1,000 years younger than her. How bad is that?" I hear a "young" vampire complain to his friends while sipping on a blood martini.
Ever since I noticed that my customers where...different, my life has never been the same. At first they would order the normal drinks. And then came the special requests. Blood drinks, drinks with moonlight, spells etc etc. Now I make a stop at the butchers or "trap" moonlight in jars like its a normal person thing to do. The customers didnt care that i was a mere mortal. And I stopped caring as well. A customer is a customer right?
"Hey, bartender, over here. Id like a meat cocktail please" A female werewolf called on me. I went to the back of the bar to the prepare the drink whike thinking to myself. What would a normal human think of these drinks?
I go back to the front and serve the drink to the werewolf. I sit down on my stool and look around the bar. "Long day?" A voice asks me. I turn around to find Ara, a pixie. She was a regular costumer here. "Yeah, its a weekend so its kind of expected" I reply.
Contrary to popular belief, supernatural beings have jobs as well. Regular human jobs. They even have priests! But different religions of course. Most of my customers today came back from a 9-5 job.
"I know. Fortunately I get a break from those wailing babies for a few days" Ara worked at a pixie babysitting centre. "Looks like its time for me to go. How much do I have to pay?"
"$30" I say while ringing her up. One minute the bar was filled with the noise of all the customers and the next, it was dead silent. I look up from the register to see 3 humanoid figures standing at the entrance of the bar. They were waering robes and their faces where covered with their hoods. One of them walked towards me. "So, this is the famous Daniel's bar uh? Where all the supernaturals hang out. My friends and I would like some beer please"
I was shivering in my boots right now. Sure, i wasnt scared of my non-human customers but something about these 3 creatures made me nervous.
"C-coming right up". I quickly say and get them the beer. They take a sip from the drink and then the leader spoke up.
"We are the Guardians of Earth. Or as you mortals call us ; Aliens. We have been notified that the Earth is going to be under attack and we need all you supernatural beings and humans to come together to defeat the invaders".
And that's how I, a mere bartender and other humans found ourself in the middle of an intergalactic war, fighting besides the creatures we never believed existed. Until now. | “Know where I could get some blow?” I almost evaporated with relief after hearing something from another human for the first time since I opened this place.
“Just kidding. The usual.” The words were not from the mouth of a human but, rather, an asexually reproducing squid-like piece of shit from a moon of some planet I never gave a shit about until a few of its ships leveled and terraformed most of Asia before the news had time to report it. His name... her name... The squid’s name is too hard for me to pronounce so I just call it Cal (short for Calamari). And for Cal, “the usual” is a drink which is also too hard to pronounce. I only know it because it’s the only thing Cal and all the other Cals order. And all I know is that it’s mostly made of the spinal fluid of a genetically engineered human/pig chimera whose sole purpose is to be mass-produced to be mass-consumed by all the Cals who come in here every night. I felt a little embarrassed in front of Cal for looking like a tricked puppy when I thought I’d heard a human wanting some cocaine.
I hadn’t thought about cocaine in a while. These new species don’t have the proper equipment upstairs to enjoy it. I tried doing a line with one of these onion ring-looking fellows from some ring of some other planet I couldn’t remember the name or history of and the thing just splattered all over my neon window lighting and the rest of the eight-ball I’d divvied up. The “S” in the Sam Adams light still flickers because of it.
I look around this place and forget that I’d been passionate about opening at one time. Before the invasions were commonplace. The first week I’d opened, there were still over 10 billion humans on the planet. Now there was maybe 5% of that left. After the Cals got here, the onion rings and all the others followed, albeit coincidentally, within a span of ten weeks. All on different paths, for different reasons, but all having the same destination and objective: Earth and destroy anything that gets in your way. Earth had gone from debating whether there was life anywhere else to converting its entire economy to an alien-serving one basically overnight. The only reason these human/pig chimeras exist is so the Cals can get fucked up. Every once in a while, a few get loose and end up in here to order human beer and complain about how I still have bacon on my menu. They’re usually the closest to a human I see any night. And they do NOT explode when they do a line of cocaine. In fact, sales of cocaine to human/pig chimeras has been covering the rent for the last 6 years. And they are very friendly and generous whenever they get a little blow in them. Not too talkative like we humans.
The Super Bowl doesn’t exist now that we have inherited the entertainment culture of several intergalactic dwelling alien species. There is a TV show, shown entirely in hologram now from any mobile device, which is basically like “Running Man” meets “NFL” meets whatever games the Mayans had before their civilization fell meets “American Gladiator” meets every violent thought you’ve ever had while having a bad trip. It’s called SportGame and it airs 24/7/365. And once it becomes legal for humans and human/pig chimeras to copulate, I’ll be sure to tell my kids to watch. I have to have someone or something to leave Miss Piggy’s Saloon to when I’m dead and gone. | 2021-02-22T03:51:38 | 2021-02-22T00:43:36 | 710 | 115 |
[WP] Most demonologists are in constant peril of their summons backfiring horribly with gruesome deaths being a common result when a demon slips their leash. Yet despite not using any bindings at all, you've never had such problems. | There are 2 paths demonologists tended to walk. The most common is the Researcher. Fundamentally, they relied on books to learn about demons. They would seek out ancient documents, learn forgotten rituals, and above all else stay as far away from demons as they could.
They would be able to tell you from just a few clues what sort of demon you had on your hands. They deal mostly with possessions, or in some rare cases places where demons cropped up. They could tell you what they did, and even list ways to combat and expel them.
Then, you have the Summoner. Generally, only the desperate or foolhardy took this path. As you can guess, they summon demons themselves. They are mostly used for information, or bargaining for dark powers. They also tend to have a short life expectancy.
Demons don't like to be bound. So when a Summoner prepares to work, they will double and triple check their bindings. If there is even the slightest crack, demons will find it, and use to escape. When that happens, it tends to get messy.
And then, you have me. I am what you would call a Summoner. But I don't bind the demons. No, I have a much simpler way of surviving.
\-----
The familiar smell of sulphur filled the air. Thick smoke poured from the centre of my circle. I could hear faint screams, many of which I felt I could recognise. Throughout it all, a Splinter Demon stepped through.
It's skin was bone white, and was stretched against its skeleton. Dozens of spikes covered its back and collar bone, each more then a foot in length. They oozed blood, their jagged ends appearing to have been recently snapped. It's thin tail whipped back and forth, the barbed end scratching the wooden floor. It had a single black eye, the rest of its face comprising of a hungering maw.
It screeched, rushing at me. Used to this, I stepped to the side, slamming my elbow into its kidneys. As it curled in on itself I ducked low, sticking a leg out. Unable to stop, it tripped over, crashing to the ground. As it lay there I could practically see the shock running through its head. Humans didn't fight demons in hand-to-hand combat. It was suicide.
It got up, reactions delayed from the surprise. I settled into a fighting stance. It rushed towards me again, this time holding its tail up. I recognised its tactic, knowing that simply stepping past wouldn't work again. Instead, I moved into its arms, firmly grasping 2 spikes on its collar bone.
I let myself drop, feeling it being pulled down. As my back hit the ground I brought my feet to its chest. With a heave, I pushed upwards, launching it into the air as it flipped. It crashed into the ground with a horrid snap and a screech.
I swiftly got to my feet, giving it a quick couple of kicks to the head. It screeched again, holding its arms up.
"Stop! Ha'azligath submits!"
I gave it one final kick, before stepping back.
"**Ha'azligath**, I accept your submission."
It froze as I spoke the name it freely gave. A demons name is sacred. To be given it means the demon acknowledges it is subservient to you. The catch was that it had to be freely spoken. You could not demand it tell you. Fortunately for me, they always gave it at the end of combat.
"I wish to know who killed Amelia Walts on 6th February 2021."
It climbed to its feet, bowing.
"I will find out for you, Master. I will return within the hour."
It vanished without the theatrics of its summoning. I stretched, before going to find a chair. Demon fights, whilst short, weren't exactly easy. |
“What is your secret?” Rina asks. She thinks it’s subtle, the way she leans onto my desk with her hands coming together, framing the ‘V’ of her sweater vest.
“No secret,” I lie. “Only discipline and practice.”
She laughs, her head tossed back. Every action is rehearsed, deliberate. Her neck is long and lovely, and when she stops laughing she catches my stare and smiles. The fact that she’s prepared for this does not make it any less enchanting.
“You cannot expect me to believe that,” she says, sitting in the chair opposite my desk, leaning on one of the armrests with her legs swinging free over the other. It’s unconventional, but that isRina. “I understand that you’re the best and most intelligent here, Dante. But the rest of us are not idiots. We have our suspicions.”
“You are free to have them,” I tell her, picking up my files and stepping out of my personal office. It was wrong of the secretary to letRina in. She stands against the wall outside my office as I lock the door.
“Dinner?” she asks.
“Dating within the demonology department is against the rules,” I tell her, although I’m sure she knows this already.
She leans forward and picks a piece of lint off my jacket.
“No risk, no reward, Dante,” she tells me, before planting a kiss on my jaw.
\* \* \*
The fight is more intense than I thought when I heard about the uprising of the necromancers. It was a wrong decision to have only two demonologists assigned to the task.
“Thar!” I yell to my demon. She’s a massive block of animated stone, but she is only one against thousands of undead. They have retained enough intelligence to know to throw projectiles and brandish sticks and spears.
“Go volcanic!” I tell her, and she complies. The cracks between the individual boulders of her body glow red, and red pads of heat appear on her hands. The undead now approach her more cautiously. She sweeps her arm across the clearing we are fighting in, and charred bodies are left behind.
Lina’s own demon is flying above, shooting razor sharp shards of ice down onto our enemies. She is fighting as well, armed with a spear and shield. I wish I shared her skill for hand-to-hand combat, but we each have our own strengths.
For now, I’m safe from the undead, on top of one of the stronger branches of a tree on the edge of the clearing. I doubt they can even see me. They thinkRina’s the only demonologist here, and unfortunately, it’s made her a target.
I spot a dark cloaked figure not fifteen feet away from her, and I yell for Thar to stop him.
Thar succeeds. The necromancer is now a pile of molten flesh within Thar’s grip, but Thar falls to the ground seconds after, clutching her arm in pain. The undead retreat to their graves, seeing their master dead. The pain hits me mid-way to the ground, and I can only use one hand to climb off the tree.
I pull back the sleeves of my jacket to check the skin above my gloves. They are quickly turning violet. Poison. It will be worse if it was magical.
“Are you alright?”Rina asks.
“Yes.”
She starts to step away but freezes and looks at Thar. “No, you’re not, and neither is your demon.”
Thar is writhing on the ground, something I want to do but cannot. The stones of her arm have gone dark and brittle, little chunks of them falling off with her every moment.Rina walks closer and places two fingers on the skin of my neck.
“She’s hurt, and so are you,” she says. Her eyes go wide as she realizes what I’ve done.
“You’ve bonded yourself to them,” she says. “Your demons.”
I smile. “A bonding is better than a binding, isn’t it?”
“You could die!” she hisses. “What if Thar had died today?”
I check on Thar, who’s recovering. The pain in my own body is diminishing as well, but I’m still weak. It’s true that if Thar gets injured, I do as well. But I heal just as quickly. I let myself lean onto Rina, my head on her shoulder, my lips grazing her neck.
“No risk, no reward, Rina,” I tell her.
\-------------------------
r/xeuthis | 2021-03-17T12:19:57 | 2021-03-17T11:48:00 | 50 | 27 |
[WP] The Galactic federation has two odd rules on the topic of Terrans. 1.Never tell a human not to do something- some primal urge will compel them to do the thing. 2.Never tell a human to do something they're already doing unless you want it to be unceremoniously halted. | "Alright, class, settle down."
It was the first day of the second semester and the beginning of the terran unit. Kanarg was excited about this as soon he would be studying human behavior and psychology with *actual humans.* He was interested in this due to him wanting to be a biologist.
"Now, in this class, we have some human students who transferred here from Earth. These students may put away their notes and pencils and just watch for now. Also, if I get things wrong, please politely correct me." Some students obeyed, including one student in the front, Toby. He was a bit of a class clown, but he remained serious for this unit, wanting to gradually ease into his role as the class clown.
"Now, there are two unique rules about humans. The first is to never tell a human not to do something, as some primal urge will compel them to–yes, Toby?" Toby had raised his hand. "That is not entirely true, Ms. Trillix. While it is true that we often want to do something if told not to, that's usually because we're simply told not to do it. If we're also told why we shouldn't do something, we often will not do that thing." He put his hand back down. Kanarg looked on, impressed. He wrote down this new knowledge in his notebook as an addendum to the first rule.
"I see. Thank you for the information, Toby." She cleared her throat before moving on. "Now, the second rule is to not tell a human to do something if they're either about to do something or already doing it. Can anyone guess why?" Kanarg raised his hand. "Yes, Kanarg?" "It's due to work and leisure, right?" He asked. Ms. Trillix nodded, saying "Elaborate a bit more, please." He continued. "With this behavior, if a human is doing some sort of work activity where he is not required to, it's like a sort of recreational activity where he works on something to probably clear his mind or pass the time. However, if he's told to do it, it turns from an activity into a chore, where he's now required to do that same activity, which is often detrimental to the human's morale.
Toby nodded and said "He is right, Ms. Trillix." She was pretty amazed with Kanarg's observation and hypothesis. "Very good, Kanarg. I can tell you'll be enjoying this unit. And Toby, thanks again for correcting what needed to be corrected." | Ubixlin was finally FINALLY back on his home world after 60 cyloric rotations (100 Terran years) of misery. He was NEVER going to hire another one of those damn Terrans ever again. As he sighed with relief of being somewhere familiar he remembered the conversation and aftermath that started that 60 rotations of wretched misery.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**60 rotations previously:**
"Working on that engine I see, we really needed it fixed so that we can get back home using the FTL drives" stated Ubixlin. Ubixlin wasn't initially very sure about having Terrans aboard his ship. He had overheard that they sometimes acted in funny ways. He needed an engineer for his journey back to his home world and his best mate had deserted him for a leggy Xireethen. He was glad to see that it was smooth sailing so far with this particular Terran that had been hired. Ubixlin then made the one mistake he would forever in his 10 lives regret. As he turned to leave he said, "keep working on that engine, really now just keep up the good work."
As he turned to leave he immediately noticed that the Terran had quickly put his tools down and then stared up at the 4 ft tall Ubixlin with a massive frown.
"What did you just say?! Really now?! No, nope, I'm done. I'm out." Steve the Terran then stood up and actually started walking away.
"What? Wait, what are you doing?! Come back!" Ubixlin yelled as he walked quickly to catch up with the Terran who was quickly disappearing down the corridor.
"No!" Steve yelled while pouting and picking up his pace, "Not if you are going to belittle me, I WAS working on it, but now, now I'm never going to work on it again! If you want your engine to work go find someone else!" Steve shouted and having finally gotten to his quarters, turned around and slammed his door in Ubixlin's face.
After that, no matter what Ubixlin said or did, the damn Terran would not look at or talk to Ubixlin. Not even after the begging and pleading Ubixlin eventually resorted to. The stupid Terran refused to leave his quarters at all! Ubixlin's ship stayed stuck, dying and dead in a small corner of space that of course had to have one of the worst communication dead zones. Later on Ubixlin would learn of the very important Terran word called "spite." When another ship finally happened to come along and tow them home, Ubixlin made it high priority to contact the Galactic Federation to complain about his horrible Terran experience. The new rule was quickly added to the Understanding Your New Terran brochure that had been sent out across the galaxy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
As he thought about that frustrating past, Ubixlin was just thankful that the 10 lifecycles of his species happened to last 300 cyloric rotations, so he didn't have to put up with Steve for very long. Ubixlin had definitely enjoyed throwing Steve's dead body out the airlock after his passing. It felt suiting after the horror Ubixlin had been through. | 2021-04-11T23:30:58 | 2021-04-11T19:59:53 | 96 | 25 |
[WP] One night while sleeping, you let your hand dangle off the bed. Seeing the opportunity the demon grabs your hand and tries to pull you down to hell, however, you, in your panic, pull the demon out. Now it's a little awkward... | “Y-you-” The granite skinned humanoid stammered, eyes full of disbelief at the human on the bed. The human stopped appraising his hand and arm then turned to look at the demon. The demon tensed.
“What happens now?” the human asked, a devious smile coming across their face, their hand opening and closing repeatedly into a fist.
“W-well-” The demon stopped, taking a step back as the human got up from the bed.
“How about we go downstairs and have some cookies!” the human smiled widely “Roommates are asleep though and we have to be quiet, then you can help me pull a prank on Nathan. Come on!” the human whispered as he passed by the stone still demon. The demon took a moment then slowly began to follow, but each step was like a rock was being dropped on the wooden floor. The unlikely pair cringed with each loud step.
“Wait, why am I listening to you!? I am the demon here!”
“But I am stronger than you.” the human shot back “You have a name?”
“I am not giving you that.”
“You will eventually”
What is this human? The demon focused on creeping along behind his new companion.
The kitchen was simple with dishes piled up and the table covered in mail and wrappers.
“Nicer than hell” remarked the demon.
“Maybe we’ll trade someday and you will know true hell. I mean look at this!” the human gestured to the pile of dishes. “Nathan NEVER takes care of the dishes even if it's just his. You’re going to help me get back at him.” | "There's a monster in my bed, and nobody seems to know! There's a monster in my bed, someday he'll surely show!"
The little girl's singing trill echoed throughout the house, walls still barren because of everything being in boxes a month after their move. It was a quiet summer evening, the sun just beginning to set. The mother smiles at the song as she does her quiet embroidery. Although she'd been worried about the lyrics before, now it's a staple in the house. She's proud of her daughter for rhyming at such an early age.
"The monster's in here now, the monster wants to play! I hope someday he'll leave mommy, so I can stay. Stop stop stop."
The mother's hands halt from reflex. Her daughter sounds distraught now. She looks up and around, immediately putting her project away, and starts to rush towards her daughter. She hits several moving boxes on the way, creating a loud clatter, like always. Like she wants.
When she enters the room, the first thing she sees are the toys throw randomly throughout the room. And then her daughter, who is in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, with her eyes shut tight.
"Sweetie, my love, what's wrong?" the mother asks.
"Momma, please come here," she whispers, eyes still shut tight. The mother crawls into bed with her daughter, but when she tries to pull up the sheets, her daughter pulls them back to her. "You have to get him first, momma."
"I'll get any monster you need me to; you just tell me where he is."
"He's right under here," she says without a beat and points at her mattress.
Having had her share of nightmares, the mother smiles gently and tells her daughter that she'll get the monster out.
When she reaches down, she's met with a hand. The mother isn't surprised. She clutches the hand as it starts to pull her down and mark up her arms. Eventually, she gives up, and gets pulled down to the floor. She can hear her daughter gently sobbing above her.
The mother is clutching her eyes shut now, too. Next to her ear, she can feel warm alcohol breath.
"I thought I told you to ignore this, Cindy. This is a little awkward now, isn't it?"
The mother thinks, "I'll stop any monster you need me to," as her sobs start to harmonize with her daughter's. | 2021-05-16T08:24:06 | 2021-05-16T07:47:37 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | "EMP! FREEZE!" Shouted young Pyroclast. It was slightly ironic but I'll forgive it.
I raised my hands and turned, clearly at their mercy. Pyroclast, Phaser, and Wraith. Pretty cool names, in my opinion. Cool powers too. Temperature control, molecular manipulation, and electromagnetic refraction. Plus they weren't dickheads. Good kids.
"Very well, you've captured me!" I vamped pretty well, it helps I'm a baritone. I turned to them slowly.
According to the supposedly accurate Dangerous Power Index, I'm at best a C-. Shorting out electronic devices is pretty bad but definitely not "melting people alive" bad.
Granted, I never have had a reason to demonstrate the exact scope of my ability to well, anyone. Commander Death and The Steel Legionnaire both knew what I really was, but they're far more interested in keeping the balance than dealing with my absolutely unambitious ass. Terrible poker players, the both of them. Death is shockingly polite for the most powerful villain in existence.
We have an informal agreement that I serve as a gateway for new heroes and villains. Everyone has a barely successful heist with me, or a faintly victorious fight against me.
I saw Wraith approaching me, when sudden the bank entrance evaporated. Just bloop, gone.
Floating in the gap was The Obliterated.
Frankly, he's kinda terrifying. Psychotic fucker with the ability to produce sonic blasts WELL IN EXCESS of healthy limits. He didn't even start a monologue, he just tossed a wave of air compressed to the approximate density of enriched uranium at these poor fucking kids. It was definitely going at least 5000 feet per second.
I quietly and pseudo-instantly turned about fifty feet of air into fifty feet of air colored neutronium for like a yoctosecond.
Everyone saw a hand flick out, felt a kind of vibration, then stared confused at each other.
I'm really not the sort of guy to upset the balance. I'm a big fucking fan of the game. It's safe uh, ish. Predictable. Choreographed.
The Obliterated was not dumb. His gaze immediately fixed on me with a very reasonable amount of suspicious concern.
The heroes were murmuring to each other, pretty concerned. I quietly brought one hand down and pointed to a shattered piece of tile.
I then altered the electromagnetic disposition of the piece of tile in such a manner that it simply vanished. I held a single finger to my lips while making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with The Obliterated.
He pretended to fight the heroes for like, two minutes. They honestly did really good. They'd have instantly died, but they did really good. I got arrested, The Obliterated got arrested, and The Steel Legionnaire even showed up to honor the heroes.
Well, I guess there are three people now, but I wasn't going to let him annihilate them.
Pretty sure that Phaser is going to replace The Steel Legionnaire one day, because she's got the gumption. Maybe Obliterated and I will catch a beer sometime and hash out the rules a little better for the higher tier villains.
Maybe not. Maybe I'll finally have to evaporate an asshole and everyone will realize that the electromagnetic spectrum is literally everything. I can turn your punk ass into gamma rays and uh, "yeet" you into a pulsar. Is that how kids say it? I "yeet" you? Whatever. For now...
For now, I'm playing cops and robbers. | Its all about perspective. If the small folk knew about my true power, then even in a world filled with superheroes and supervillains I'd be called a god. Should the bean counters in World Hero Association Membership uncover the scope and scale of my design, undoubtedly they'd spend all of the budget on unnecessary countermeasures. Any villain with a hint of ego would come after just for the street cred.
So, why not take it easy and play it safe. Fact, if you're so unimpressive as a villian you don't even need a stupid villain name. To some it could be inconvenient to be known to anyone who reads the back pages of newspapers or trawls the hot prospect categories of Hero forums, but on the plus side you never need to worry about door to door salesmen or having your reservation bumped.
And if, and I mean a strong stout if, some up and comers get tested in ways they don't expect is anyone gonna complain? It's not like Photon Phantom would have learned they could be painfully refracted with a simple glass prism in a safer situation.
I'm not saying I should get a medal or a parade or anything. I'm not that up my own ass. I'm just saying, maybe don't try and horn in on my thing.
I mean come on, I got a thing happening here and I didn't invite you. And what's up with the name? "Anthrocide"? Sounds like a bargain bin roach killer.
*Why are you talking so much-*
Hey now, I'm talking. You gotta wait your turn, Anthrocide. Ya know perspective matters a whole lot. I've talked to people who clamor for the glamour and fame the big capes get. But me, I don't want any part of that. In turn notoriety, well your kind, ain't got much of an appeal either.
*What are you doing-*
Oh so you're just rude? Just cause your a, a... hold on.
Just cause your a mass murdering sadistic piece of shit doesn't mean you can't have manners. But, whew what a shit zipper you are. You might not be able to see this but I'm getting the vapors right now over reviewing your history.
What's the end goal here? You don't seem to have some ideology or political goal motivating your path of pain. Just a run of the mill monster huh? Given a bit of power, a pinch of flash, a drop of pizazz and you decide it's best used to cause harm. I'm not impressed.
What do you have to say for yourself?
*What have you done to me?*
What have I done? Maybe you did this to yourself? Did you consider that? Storming into an active bank robbery and with intentions of killing the heroes and civilians. Your the one who melted dozens of cops and onlookers gathered outside as part of your big entrance
What'd those people do to earn an agonizing fate of turning into hot human soup?
*Stop*
Well that's not really an option.
See, well shit you can't see, light only moves so fast and once I sync'd you to me and went beyond that sight becomes something of an impossibility. Anyways here's the deal Ant, you're being punished now.
I've pulled you out of sync with reality, or well the only setting of reality your compatible with.
I've been touched by the universe, Ant. I'm what could be referred to as an avatar of the big bang. Universal expansion is kinda my thing. Now I've taken all that incredible power and used it to nudge you. Just enough to sync you up to me.
Physically you're no longer in that bank. Every fiber of your being has been pushed to a speed where you are out of phase with time and space by most standards.
It'll probably take a while before this conversation registers in that little noggin of yours.
But, don't worry I'm a merciful guy. You'll slow down, gradually. Within some months or years you fall back into phase with reality. All the while you can ruminate on your choices.
So long for now!
Supercede out | 2021-06-23T15:33:15 | 2021-06-23T13:55:53 | 73 | 36 |
[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 | "They won't come." The Mastermind told me for what had probably been the hundredth time since I had kidnapped him.
"I really didn't believe you at first." I responded. "I thought you were a teammate to them; I thought they were true heroes that would never leave a man behind, but it looks like I was wrong."
"I'm their teammate; I knew it was happening." He responded bitterly.
"Hey, look." I began to make a proposition. "Since these teammates of yours don't seem like they have your back, maybe you can join me. I mean, I'm usually a loner, but a brilliant superhero like you could really help me out."
"Do you mean it?" His face lit up with interest.
"Yeah, I mean, I'm sure you'd like to get revenge on your old team which I could help with."
"I'm not big on revenge. I'm still a hero at heart, but I think we could make a great team."
After some internal debate, I let The Mastermind out of the prison I had been holding him in. "You do anything weird, and I'm killing you." I said with my most threatening voice which probably wasn't particularly threatening.
"You got it man." He raised his hands defensively. "So, what's your first plan?"
"There's a villain attack happening in a few hours and we'll meet your old team in the depths of the city."
As I had known, a vicious attack by the Devastators occurred. The Mastermind's old team, the Justice Defenders, had arrived to put a stop to the attack, and The Mastermind and myself arrived just at the end.
It was a scene of destruction. There were superheroes and super-villains fighting in every corner of the city. Civillians were being hurt, buildings were being destroyed, and for once, I couldn't stomach the scene of destruction.
I had always been part of the backfoot of villainous activity. My telekinetic powers made it easy for me to steal, kidnap and flee. I was a valuable asset to other villains at times due to my immense power, but I had never been one to engage in combat. I had come to the scene of the event to cleanup and rob, not to fight.
"Help."
I saw The Mastermind rush over to a young girl pinned under a piece of a fallen building in the corner of my eye. It was as he had said–he was a hero at heart.
He struggled.
He was known as a smart hero, not a strong one, and a building proved to be more his match.
"Dark Telepath, I need your help." I heard him say to me. "You have the power to help."
I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. To help someone went against my villainous past, but I recalled the month I had spent with The Mastermind. I knew the stories of the people he had helped to save. All the families he had reunited. The people he had helped. He told me it was never about doing things for himself.
It was a decision I would never be able to take back, but I raised that building with my telekinetic powers with ease. At that moment, I knew The Mastermind was never abandoned by his team. Instead, he had come to my rescue. | 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. | 2021-08-04T14:33:57 | 2021-08-04T11:24:19 | 495 | 154 |
[WP] One day, a bat flew through your opened window room, and though surprised, you tried to talk to it gently, gave it space until it found its way out. Now, you find yourself rescued by a vampire who's returning the favor for helping one of their kids. | Lying in the slop of the trench — half his left leg missing and the other half bone, the stink of mould and gas and gunfire engulfing him — Robert wasn’t a soldier sent to die, but instead a little boy again, in his bedroom, years before even the first whisper of war.
In his head, he could hear his old music box playing, a gift from his father. Two tin figurines waltzing a circle. Its shrill chime drowned out the boom of artillery and the screams of his friends, the scuttling of starving rats.
*Rock a bye baby, on the tree top…*
He’d been too old for the lullaby by then, but the melody still enchanted him. And through the open window came an errant bat, scuffed into the curtains, wrapped in silk, found a way past and into the room. A little bat, tiny thing. Precious.
They were coming now. The enemy. Boots sloshing in the mud. The trench was lost. The seconds were punctuated by the *crack* of rifles as his comrades were executed or else put out of their misery.
“It’s okay,” he’d said, the bat having trapped itself in a hanging shirt, flapping frantically. “It’s okay, I got you.” He cupped it gently as the music box sang. No fear in him. Stroked a finger over its furry nose. The bat chirped like a wren and Robert laughed. He’d slid open the window and released the little bat like a wedding dove into the evening.
They were above him now. A wide shadow. Silhouetted in the steam and fog of gunfire and cold night. Two of them. Bayonets raised. Impossible to see whether they held tears of guilt or smiles of glee. Probably neither, and either way: w*hat did it matter?* He wanted to tell them it was okay, he understood.
The bat had stayed, hovered outside his window for a while, as if looking at him, as if thinking.
The men stepped closer, rose over him like mountains wigged in fog.
And then what Robert thought was a black leaf drifted down in front of him. How strange and out of place a leaf was in this land of craters and death.
He didn’t see the leaf land, but instead saw a third silhouette rise in the mist. Smaller than the others. Only a child with dark hair and night-smudged features. The painting of a girl from long ago.
Then the whistling, the sounding, of the melody trapped in Robert’s head.
It haunted the air, froze the men, silenced the bullets and bombardment.
*Rock a bye baby, on the tree top. When the wind blows the cradle will rock.*
Was Robert singing it? His mouth barely moved, breath barely came, just ragged puffs of white.
He missed his parents. Dad had been dead years but his mother was at home waiting.
The crack and snap of bone; the hiss of snared arteries; the gush of opened blood. Violent flowers of steaming red added to his cold, greying world.
The two tall silhouettes fell like trees chopped, their mouths open wide but their screams deathly silent.
Existence ran slow for a time.
The girl turned, gently knelt by Robert’s side.
Her lips touched his forehead.
”Sleep,” said the girl. “It’s time for you to rest now, Robert. To be at peace. Far away from here, to some place much softer.”
Robert could still hear the melody soothing in his mind, but quietening, softening, now as gentle as the sound of fresh snowfall.
The girl’s hand, petal-soft, touched his eyes, closed them. He lay against her.
The battlefield was silent. Peaceful as his heart. | I was in trouble--until I was not, by the grace of a flying creature of the night. And when I said grace, I meant *grace*, not the kind you’ll utter in front of your family members, but the kind that makes you feel tingles crawling up your spine, and you wonder how any living being was capable of this.
Except, of course, this was not a living being. Not 100 percent living, anyway. The creature--a bat--swooped down in front of me, and even without a blink of an eye, turned into a man. Pale as the moonlight that shone down, and yet dark power compelled me not to turn my gaze away and forced my jaw to lock up.
I had almost forgotten that I was currently in the process of getting mugged.
“What the hell tricks are you playing?” screamed the would-be mugger. He’s definitely seen better minutes, maybe even hours, his desperate voice now layered on top with fear--a horrible cake of terribleness. His body trembled and buckled, and his bloodshot eyes widened so much that even I was worried that they would pop out like shaken champagne corks.
The vampire scanned me, and I revelled in it. He turned away for a moment, looking at the thug.
“Leave.”
It wasn’t just a spoken word. It was an urgent message, forcing every synapse in my brain to process it, to heed his bidding. My legs almost turned tail and ran. Instead, I saw the mugger pause for a moment, and without a sound, turned away and shuffled away, before breaking into an impossibly clumsy escape.
*What the hell indeed,* I thought.
“You,” the vampire turned, returning to his inspection of me.
“Me?” I said, a novice performer with stage fright suddenly thrust into the spotlight.
“You might not remember,” the gorgeous, beautiful man said. “But you saved my child. And for that, I thank you.”
“Your child?”
He continued staring into my eyes, and though he said nothing, the message felt like it was transmitted directly into my mind’s eye. Images flashed of the night when a bat found itself trapped in my room, desperately screeching and flying into walls. Instead of reaching for a broom, I found myself coaxing it gently, watching as it finally managed to soar away into the night sky after an ordeal of bumping heads.
“Oh,” I said, shyly rubbing the back of my head. “Cute kid, mister.”
“I hope I did not interfere too much with your night,” the vampire bowed. “I’m sure a noble man like you would have chased that mug away without breaking a bead of sweat. But I wanted to thank you, and I did not want a classless thug to delay my gratitude.”
“Oh, sure, no problem at all,” I smiled. Fire burned within me, refusing to be extinguished, though the night was cool and my sweat was cold. “Please, call me Scott.”
“Scott,” he said, courteously bowing once more. “I am Ezekiel, and I am in your debt.”
“Vampire,” I whispered, feeling the word catch onto the wind. He did not respond, but it was a truth that nobody present really deigned to hide.
“Thank you,” I said. “But… you really shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m sorry,” Ezekiel said. “Does my presence make you uncomfortable? I tend to inspire that.”
“I wouldn’t call it uncomfortable,” I muttered. “Just… different. From what I’m used to.”
Ezekiel laughed. Even that was magnificent, a myriad of wind chimes that hit the exact right notes.
“You are a good man, Scott,” he said, backing off one, two steps. “I have to leave. Many mouths to feed. But thank you, once again.”
“It’s no problem,” I muttered. And without pause or much thinking, I blurted out:
“And will you find me again?”
“Perhaps, when you find yourself in mortal danger once more,” Ezekiel beamed, fangs glittering under the moonlight.
And then there was no longer Ezekiel--but a silent bat flying into the dark.
“Or when I’m tired of being mortal,” I whispered, perhaps hoping that the wind would bear my words once more.
And I wondered if I needed to take, or avoid, more walks during the dark, scary night.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-08-08T09:44:48 | 2021-08-08T09:28:47 | 1,183 | 222 |
[WP] Invading Earth was a calculated risk, but billions of slaves, an stablished infrastructure and plenty of natural resources were too good to pass up. The aliens were aware of how quick militaries could respond, but were unprepared for the violence of the average citizen. | Commander Kat'lul was drafting a brief for the generals regarding the current progress on the invasion of the potential mining colony when his subordinate limped in.
Xhi'thril's carapace was cracked open in at least three places, his thorax and shoulder were riddled with protruding metal spines and he was missing two of his six arms as he staggered into the office aboard the ship.
The Commander closed his mouth to prevent sucking air across his preauricular sinus. "Report."
Xhi'thril straightened, bowed, then straightened once more. "The humans had built a crude fortification in Section 34. The military was in the process of securing the area when we ambushed them at a choke point between two dwellings. They retreated and we entered the dwellings to secure them..."
Commander Kat'lul nodded. He had heard of the human tactic of falling back to counter attack. "They laid a trap, then."
Xhi'thril hesitated. "No Sir. The military did retreat... This was done by one of their mates." Xhi'thril's carapace darkened beneath the ichor.
"Explain." Commander Kat'lul stood and set aside the briefing screen.
"We thought she was harmless. She was hiding in a subterranean compartment within the dwelling, along with two male younglings and a pubescent female. She had none of the projectile weapons from the reports, but when we approached to take her and the others into custody, she grabbed a black metal disk with a handle from a pile of equipment and begun swinging it... The construction of the dwelling didn't allow us to discharge our weapons, it would have brought the building down on our team."
Xhi'thril's eyes glazed. "She kept screaming at an octave that felt like Eronian ritual blades were piercing our eyes. Na'ratis managed to wrench the weapon away from her and was about to grab her when the pubescent female started screaming, too. She had grabbed a red metal bar with a hook and forked end and was swinging it wildly at anyone within reach. She... did this..." He gestured to the missing arms. "The team began to push forward, when one of the younglings picked up some kind of railgun? This weapon didn't appear in any of our intelligence. We fled though lateral steel doors that opened to the outside of the dwelling, but not before their psychotic attack had taken half of the team."
The Commander wrapped long, lithe fingers around the protruding pieces of metal in Xhi'thril's upper left shoulder, and pulled out a 3in framing nail.
Xhi'thril winced.
Commander Kat'lul nodded. "Get to the recovery bay."
Xhi'thril bowed weakly and left.
The Commander would have to amended his report to warn the generals of the damager involved in dealing with cornered females and their young. | Therefore, the aliens had to be more intelligent than their target. They used technology to mimic the human appearance and voice.
They started small, infiltrating places such as schools. Eventually, they were able to get into positions of leadership across the planet, and before long, they controlled the entire media.
They slowly poked and chipped at humanity until they all seemed to turn against each other and used their weapons on themselves at a higher rate. The aliens thought that humans would allow themselves to be disarmed if things only got bad enough.
Instead, the good-natured humans got tired of it and took up arms against anyone causing harm. The balance was restored, and the plan to rid the humans of weapons failed.
The aliens realized they would never be able to disarm them willingly, so they decided to destroy them without destroying the atmosphere and actual planet. They began releasing genetically engineered viruses on them, and killed off most of the wildlife (they would just replenish them later.) They sent viruses through the farm animals the humans kept, and they had to cull most of their herds.
They thought this plan was going to reduce humanity to a controllable number, but people began growing their own food all over the world, and they shared it with each other, even when they didn't seem to have enough.
They took care of their sick, even when it put their own selves at risk. Many people died, but their immune systems always seemed to overcome the alien viruses eventually.
At this point, some of the humans had discovered what was happening and tried to spread the word. These people were either seen as crazy, or the aliens made them disappear, never to be seen again.
The aliens next decided to use the human money system against them. They intentionally destroyed their economy and used machines to automate everything. All over the world, humans lost jobs and homes. Everyone felt there was nothing they could do.
This plan was the most successful yet, so they took it to the next level. They disrupted the trade system, and caused massive shortages of many products all over the world. Strict laws were enacted and regulations were used to make things even harder on everyone. People lost everything in droves.
Once things got bad enough, people began to realize that there was plenty of food, but they couldn't afford it. There were plenty of houses, but they sat empty. The automation could be making everyone's lives easy, but the benefits were being reaped by only a few, while everyone else struggled. The only thing keeping them from a good life was imaginary social constructs like laws and money.
What they needed to survive was all around them the whole time. Many people, especially those who were still doing okay, clung to the systems they were familiar with, and fought to prevent change.
At first, the aliens tried to kill off anyone who tried to spread these thoughts of leaving the old ways behind. The worse the aliens made things, the more people realized their systems weren't working. Soon, so many people were realizing this that there was no way the aliens could stop it now.
The aliens lost all control of humanity as the humans remembered who they were supposed to be. Their entire society was rebuilt, and anyone who tried to implement something harmful was cast out.
The aliens could no longer hide their malicious presence, and were forced to flee Earth before they were inevitably discovered.
The humans went on to make great discoveries and used them to benefit all of mankind at an accelerated rate, leaving their selfish ways behind forever.
Many years later, the humans discovered space travel and came upon the planet inhabited by the aliens. They gave them a chance despite their fear of the unknown, but found that they were malicious creatures and destroyed them. | 2021-11-27T21:59:30 | 2021-11-27T20:13:27 | 52 | 16 |
[WP] A kid summons a demon and asks for only one simple thing, to be their friend | “I...am feeling a mixture of...*three* things, I guess.” The Demon stared about at the grassy field into which he had been summoned, and then back to the kid that had brought him here. The beast lifted a hand and then extended a red-scaled, black-taloned finger “Firstly: Confused.”
The hellbeast looked down at his cloven hooves which were planted in the middle of stomped grass and gathered rocks...which made up the pentagram and sigils of a Circle of Summoning. He nodded and then extended another talon. “Secondly: *Impressed*.”
The eight foot tall torturer of the damned made eye contact with the kid. The bloody-nosed kid. The bloody-nosed kid who was staring him down and had summoned him in broad daylight with no candles and nothing but twigs, rocks, flattened grass and gumption. The Demon raised a third finger and smiled.
“And, lastly...I’m a little afraid, buddy. And...I. Am. *Loving* it.”
The kid bleated. The kid — a baby goat — had summoned him to the mortal plane. This, whatever this was, was going to be good. Well, good for the Demon. So, bad for everything else. | "I uh what." The Demon spluttered not wanting to give a yes or no and upset the kind-looking child before him.
​
"Can you be my friend? I read in this book you can do a lot of stuff for me, so, can you be my friend." While saying this, the boy presented a flaming black book with a goats head on the front cover of it. Needless to say, it looked quite out of place in this part of the universe.
​
"I... wait, just hang on a second, kid." The Demon stated quickly. Technically he had to do whatever his 'master' demanded he do, no matter what. But that meant the 'master', or this kid, lost his soul. "You don't want anything else? This is kind of a big commitment, like getting a pet or damning yourself to the underworld for the rest of eternity."
​
Somehow these words had no effect on the child's mind. "Nope, I want you to be my friend." The Demon once again paused, but options had run out, he had to do what the child demanded.
​
"Okay then... if I already wasn't in hell, I'd be going to it for this but... boom. You're now my friend." The Demon finished, not the least bit confused.
​
"Good." The boy chuckled with a sudden dark and sinister tone. "Now, let's start with my other needs."
​
"Hold on, kid." The Demon began, "You had one wish, it's done. You can't wish for more."
​
The boy chuckled again.
​
"Really? You can't give me more? Aren't we... friends?" These final words had an impact on the Demon. They were friends... they helped each other out.
​
"Oh... okay kid." | 2022-07-13T05:00:41 | 2022-07-13T04:41:10 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] Every time you die, your power brings you back a bit stronger. As you slowly become less and less human, the other heroes become more wary of you. Today, for the first time, you were mistakenly attacked as a monster…and no one is coming to help. | The cursed soul.
A power so rare, it only appears in those who have nothing else to lose. No grand skill, no great equalizer. It is perhaps the most mundane of the powers, when it’s gotten. But it becomes obvious when they shrug off death once. Doubly so with their new resistance to the cause. Death by crushing force? Unbreakable bones. Death by impalement or slashing, harder skin and scales, respectively. You grew into a monster. But you grew nonetheless. Smarter, cautious, fearful. You became that which you sought to defeat. And they hated you for it. So you went to sleep one night, and woke up the next. But something was different. You looked at your fellow hero, and you felt *nothing*. It was later said you were murdered in your sleep. But how could the curse defend against this cause? Through apathy. And then you were a monster all the same. | He had learned early to walk with Death.
It was not just the adventuring. Arrows and axes, spells and swords, all slew indiscriminately, friends and foes and more than once, himself. Yet always, resurrection came, but only for him. At first.
Once a sorcerer only, he started to feel the song of bones and the melody of the soul. Allies and enemies, young and old, he felt it all. The snap of a neck as a Paladin, name long forgotten, drove a mace in. The cry of a child as raiders took her mother's life, then hers. The torment of slavery as they fought wights unending, allies turned to enemies as they fell.
The end justified the means. Primal power surged through his body. It killed him. It killed the wights. It killed the arisen. It killed his humanity.
He awoke in sight of former allies. They saw him. They attacked, with holy blade and shards of ice, two on one. They struck, he feared, and he drew.
The song swelled, the melody strengthened, and the dead arose to his bidding. And he felt alive. Alive as he had not in a long time. He laughed as the Paladin and Wizard left. Their names, he had forgotten. Everything from before felt... Unimportant. Irrelevant. His profession. His age. His allies. His quests. It all felt meaningless in the face of the song and melody that wove its web in and around him. Eternal and forever, the web had him, and he had the web.
Koschei had walked to Death's tune long enough. Now Death would walk to his tune. | 2022-08-26T13:02:41 | 2022-08-26T12:19:22 | 92 | 62 |
[WP] Every time you die, your power brings you back a bit stronger. As you slowly become less and less human, the other heroes become more wary of you. Today, for the first time, you were mistakenly attacked as a monster…and no one is coming to help. | Every time I came back I looked a bit different. That was a given. My team knew that. They expected it. My body adapted to each death. Thrown into a vacuum? Came back with pressure safe skin and nictating membranes. Stabbed in the heart? Came back with interlaced ribs. Drowned? Came back with gills and retracting webs in my hands. That wasn’t the problem. They knew I would look strange. They knew I was still me. What makes you human is on the inside.
Then I died after a magically cursed game of chess. That was the first time I realized. My power could change me on the inside. My mind could laser focus on strategy. It was frightening to have my mind fundamentally changed. But I could compensate. I told my team and they accepted the changes. They supported me. They even put up with me becoming a bit of a know it all in battles… I had never seen it before, but our tactics were *terrible.*
The second strike was when I lost Steel Flower. We had just defeated the Sky Pirates, and were left aboard their de-orbiting satellite. Steel had been hit in the gut by debris going thousands of miles per hour. It left a clean cut through his torso in the perfect shape of a bolt. He bled out in under a minute while I held him to me. The love I felt for him was transformed to agony as I watched the light leave his eyes. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t drag myself to an escape pod. I secretly prayed that this would be the final death.
I woke up in the charred rubble of the station. And I was profoundly different. I laid there for maybe an hour, dreading the pain of loss returning. But it never did. I slowly realized that I could not even recall the sensation of that pain. Just the memory of a memory. The emotions that had lead to my death had been wiped away. No more love. No more regret. No more crying. I want to tell you that was difficult, but it was not. How can you care that you’ve lost the ability to care?
My teammates didn’t know how to react to that. I think maybe some of them didn’t believe me. They thought I was simply in shock from losing the love of my life.
Then came the last. The third strike. I was faced with an ethical dilemma. Red Arrow was holding an entire school hostage. I had reached him in his lair, but he grinned as his finger hovered over the switch which would release deadly nerve gas in the innocent students. He grinned at me with malice and said “You’ll just have to kill me if you want to both save the children and keep me from taking my weapon cache.” He knew I couldn’t. I would never take a life. Then he casually brought his atom rifle up and seared by body from existence.
This time when I woke up, Mind Witch was there. I think she had been motorizing me for some time. As I lost the parts that make you human. No, there are plenty of non humans on our team. As I lost the parts that made me *a person*.
She read the thoughts as they came to me. As the disgust I should have felt never came. These “heroes.” Their petty prides and their showboating tactics. They cost lives. They had to go.
There was no hesitation as I reached up and crushed Blue Kite’s throat in my hand. No remorse as I threw him at the feet of his wife. With her in shock, the rest would be weakened, defending her. And hers were the only powers that could stop me.
Some part of me tried to remember what it was to feel remorse. But I knew that was tactically unsound. I quelled it. | It's a weird feeling, giving up.
His codename was Miracle Scale and it was about two years ago.
My deaths were still in the single digits and the alterations were still mostly internal or easy the hide, the biggest being the gills I'd grown after a drowning. I'd never been a swimsuit kinda gal anyway (hence, how I'd gotten them) and with their positions it was easy to just keep my clothes on.
But this time it was unmistakable what was happening. A shot in a dark room that burrowed a 6mm tunnel through my skull meant that, when I woke up, I'd been gifted a pair of feline like eyes to see in the dark. That was when the looks started.
Two weeks of soft comments and suspiscious side eyed glares led me to a breakdown in the Tower's gym whilst the team were all supposed to be at a press event. Officially, I was still "recovering" but Miracle Scale, ever the rebel, had ditched.
Miracle Scale, nearly seven feet tall and covered head to toe in a beautiful scales in varying shades of blue. A lizardman, forked tongue and long, regrowable tail included.
He sat next to me, told me he knew what I was going through but to not let that distract me from the mission. Heroism is about setting an example and living by your principles, regardless of how ungrateful the world may seem.
He'd gotten a smile outta me with a sappy joke in his gravelly, lispy monotone and I'd pushed my luck by planting a kiss on his cold cheek. I'd kicked myself later for not staying and trying for more (instead of running away from his dumbfounded expression) but it inspired me.
Six months layer, Miracle Scale died a villain.
I was on another continent when the fight broke out, watching in horror on a dingy bar television as Miracle Scale squared off with Staredown and Yellow Triumph alongside Dr Jurassic. His screams about how the world treated anyone whose looks at all strayed from the human norm, the abuse he had always dealt with and how even joining the Hero's Assosiation hadn't helped him or anyone like him were carefully edited out of any and all subsequent broadcasts.
By the time I made it back to HQ, they'd already taken his statue down and scrubbed any mention of him from the team.
I got reckless, so the changes came in hot and fast. Scales of my own, though indistinguishable from skin unless you stood close enough. Retractable wings and talons, bony protrusions, sharklike jaws and additional limbs, even my figure began to change.
Even if children were less and less willing to take their pictures with me, I was saving more people than any other solo hero in the Northern Hemisphere.
I knew even back then, two years ago, that I was on borrowed time. But that was time I had to make the most of.
But in that time, the *"honest mistakes"* started piling up. Sniped by Staredown's optical lasers, Goliath offering a *"didn't see you down there"* more than once but Yellow Triumph's response to the press (regarding the pummeling I'd received by his glowing transparent fists) was where the phrase came from.
*"I mistook her for one of Red Deaths flesh thingies. It was an honest mistake!"*
It was a message and I read it loud and clear. But I didn't- no, couldn't let it stop me.
Until now.
It was Triumph again. Scarlet Serenity joined in at some point and Gal Gregarious is off on the sidelines. Watching.
It's weird giving in. But seeing that dark haired girls expression slip from surprise to smug.
Seeing her waft away the cameras and ensure there were no interruptions.
Seeing my two idols and teammates gleefully batter me from their spots floating in the air.
Feeling the not so distant heat of the train carriage I hadn't saved due to their distraction.
And knowing that when they kill me, I'll get back up with even more of a reason for their (and societies) revulsion.
It's... It's such a weird feeling to give up. Because all I can see and hear are Miracle Scales kind words juxtaposed by his fury in his final moments. Two polar opposite viewpoints from a man who meant so much.
And I don't have the energy to live up to either of them, anymore. | 2022-08-26T15:52:54 | 2022-08-26T15:21:35 | 89 | 46 |
[WP] You are pretty sure that your roommate is a new villain terrorizing the city and you are conflicted. They cook extra food for you and your other roommates frequently, pay you their share of the bills on time, and even help to clean the apartment. They are the perfect roommate. | I look out the window sipping on my tea. I watch as buildings burn and people flee from danger. A man in a green costume flies around causing havoc, blowing up cars and throwing trees into buildings. Complete chaos everywhere.
Then I turn around and look at my pristine apartment, clean as a whistle. I put my empty mug into the very clean sink that Brandon has just wiped down this morning. I sit down on the couch and am the most relaxed I have been in a while. Tomorrow rent is due and I finally have a roommate who I know won't make an excuse as to why it will be late. Not only that but he bakes me cookies almost every day. I mean, my waist line doesn't appreciate it but that's a me problem. Life is good.
I hear the key being fiddled with at the front door, and in walks Brandon with a big burlap bag. He's wearing an oversized hoodie and pants, but I can see a tightfit green shirt underneath. He also has disheveled hair as if it was flattened down by some hat or mask just seconds ago.
He greats me and we exchange a few pleasantries. He says that he was just out for a jog and that is why he is out of breath. I accept this story despite the fact that I didn't ask. Also, despite the fact that he went jogging while apparently carrying a giant burlap bag. I give a friendly reminder about rent due tomorrow. He immediately sticks his hand into the bag and counts out some crumpled up bills and sticks them in my hand. I say thank you, and he suggests that we go watch a movie later. The new Fast and Furious. I say that it sounds like fun, and he walks off to the kitchen to make himself a snack.
I look around my pristine apartment again. I have had so many bad roommates in the past, but it has finally become a place of zen. A stressfree zone where I no longer have to worry about anything. Until my eyes hit the window. And I can see the raging fires that are going on outside. As if I am looking out into the depths of hell. A knot in my stomach tightens. I get queasy and uncomfortable. I just stand there staring out the window for like five minutes. Or maybe thirty? Lost on my thoughts it is hard to tell. Finally, unable to live with myself if I don't, I pull out my phone to start dialing the cops. As it starts ringing I can smell chocolate chip cookies being baked in the oven. I hang up the phone. | At first I thought nothing of Jeremy's frequent disappearances. He'd suddenly up and leave the flat without warning, sometimes being gone for days at a time, and when he returned he'd seem harried and stressed. Whatever he was doing, he didn't let it affect the dynamic in the flat.
Eventually, though, I couldn't fail to notice that every time Jeremy vanished coincided with news of activity from that new villain that had recently taken root in the city, Annihilator. Short absences matched with small instances such as a bank robbery, while longer absences matched with bigger assaults, like when he was gone for a full fortnight and there was a big attack in a city in Nepal in the middle of it. It was definitely suspicious, but I'd need proof if I wanted to raise the issue.
But... did I *want* to raise the question? If I'm right, and he is Annihilator, then wouldn't he just kill me before I could out him? And if I'm wrong, and it is all just a major coincidence, I could cause tensions to arise within the flat and drive out a great flatmate. And a great flatmate he is. Ideal, really. He pays his share of the rent on time, cleans up after himself, doesn't cause problems, even shares his food with the rest of us when we're short. If I'm being entirely honest, this arrangement wouldn't work without him.
But the suspicion gnaws at the back of my mind, and I decide that the next time he disappears I'm going to sneak into his room and look for clues.
The opportunity presents itself a mere 3 days later. I'm chilling on the couch with Josephine, barely paying attention as I flick through shows on Netflix while Jo comments things like "No. Seen it. Boring. No. Looks shit." The sound of Jeremy's door slamming open drags my attention from the screen, and I catch sight as he locks the door to his room and hauls arse to the front door with a big hold-all slung over his shoulder. Once he's gone, I wait a minute before hearing his car peel away through the open window, then I jump over the back of the couch and run to my room to grab the lockpicks I have stashed away.
Tools in hand, I approach his bedroom door. The locks on these doors are all the same type, just different sets so that they require different keys, so I've spent the last few days practicing on my door until I could get that done in under a minute. This shouldn't take much longer than that.
"What're you doing?" Jo asks, having noticed me crouched at Jeremy's door.
"Just need to confirm something that's been bugging me for a while now," I respond, inserting the tools into the lock and testing the barrel.
A few minutes later, I hear a satisfying **click** as I finish with the last tumbler of the lock, and I twist to open it. Standing to my feet, I place my hand on the knob and twist, pushing as I step forwards. My jaw hits the floor as I walk into the room.
"What the fuck?" I hear over my shoulder. Apparently, Jo has decided this is more interesting than watching nothing on Netflix, and has followed me inside. I can't help but agree. | 2022-11-20T08:17:23 | 2022-11-20T07:35:47 | 147 | 70 |
[WP] a prompt for bad people
Step one. Find a serious piece of work, for my example, I found a story about a lonely man who finds solace in taking long walks, and thinking about the geese that he sees. It was deep, and poetic, heartfelt, and really angsty.
Step two. Take the first sentence or two, and leave them as is. If you feel awkward about doing that, maybe paraphrase a little, but at least give the same general feel about the beginning. For example, my first lines are "Sometimes I like to take long walks by myself. It helps calm me down. I don’t really go anywhere, but it helps to clear my mind."
Step three. Take the general idea of the story (mine being about geese) and spin it in an adverse manner. For example, my next line is "That all changed, however, when the geese attacked."
Have fun with it, play up the absurdity, and don't feel bad if you feel like your idea is mocking the original piece. I will post my contribution post-haste. | Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint an curious volume of forgotten lore
While I nodden nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
But still came that incessant knocking, no more could my ease keep blocking
Out this rapping loudly stalking, louder now than 'twas before
Failing to return the silence, hesitation turned compliance
Anything to stop the violence thrust upon my chamber door
"Who is there," I asked the darkness, safely from behind the door.
"Who should keep me from my snore?"
No reply, but knocking fading, still my listening, still my waiting
Curiosity abating, every second lessened more
"Who?" once more my question ringing, may I catch a response bringing
Just whose hand by now is stinging from the banging on my door
Still no answer, just the gusting from the raging winter storm
I returned to think some more
Again came that infernal clatter, "Dear sir what could be the matter?"
Would this person once more scatter as I walk the foyer floor
No more for a reply waiting, time to start investigating
Courage then in me inflating, time to find out what's in store
To the rapping now we add the creaking of the chamber door
Behind, the visage of Lenore
"It's you," I cried as tears were falling. "I hadn't known, did you try calling?"
Realizing I'd been stalling, I asked her inside where it's warm
Slowly she begins her entry, after what seems like a century
Still I'm standing like a sentry, shaken right down to my core
Having shed her mortal coil, yet she stood there as before
Again I see my lost Lenore
"Be you ghost, or haunting spirit? Answer though I know I'll fear it
Please, the answer let me hear it. What's your fate now?" I implore
Only silence for a second, then the appararition beckoned
The risks of contact by then reckoned, how I had to know the score
Had to know the spirit's fate, what chains of bondage that she wore
'Til death' to her my oath I swore
The slap came quick across my face, another close behind in chase
The pain had trouble keeping pace, my cheeks quite soon were rather sore
"I didn't die you stupid twat, I left you in case you forgot
I shacked up with that stupid Scot who own the townhouse right next door.
I'm only here to take the trinkets sitting in my dresser drawer."
Oh yes, that's right, she was a whore. | Geese
Sometimes I like to take long walks by myself. It helps calm me down. I don’t really go anywhere, but it helps to clear my mind. That all changed, however, when the geese attacked.
I was just walking along the riverside, minding my own business, when suddenly I felt something long and beak-like enter into my neck. I could only assume it was a beak because there was a bird attached to the end of it. Birds don’t just attach themselves to anything, although apparently my neck was something special.
Now, don’t get me wrong. One bird I can handle. I’ve killed more geese in my day with nothing but a tube of toothpaste and a roll of duct tape than anyone I know. But when they gang up on you, that’s when things all go south (and not for the winter). I swear to you. Any onlooker would have thought that I had a very stylish goose necklace, that’s how many geese had lodged themselves in my neck. There had to be at least sixteen geese trying to get prime real-estate inside my windpipe. It was getting hard to breath. I could start pulling them out, but killing the geese one-by-one would take forever that way.
I did what any sensible man would do.
I slammed my chest and face down to the pavement beneath my feet. Eight of the beaks slid farther in, emerging from the other side of my neck, but the other eight were lodged loose. Ten of the geese got crushed under my body. They remained only as a pulpy mess smeared over my sweater. I plucked three dead birds out of my throat. Only five remained, and boy, were they mad. I pulled two out, breaking their necks in the process, the thirds beak chipped off as I dislodged it, but the remaining two were giving me more trouble.
A foot knocked into my face. While I was busy dealing with the neck-fowl, one surviving bird had opted to instead use its webbed feet to mess up my face. Tiny claws slashed my face, and blood started to pool up in my eyes. I felt like I was about to cry. Yeah. That’s right. Real men cry. We just cry blood instead of your prissy little “tears.” I grabbed at the bird, and took a large bite out of its abdomen. It flopped about for about thirteen seconds, but then it just kind of hung limp.
Now to return to the problem in my neck. Try as I might, the two remaining demons-of-the-sky refused to dislodge themselves from my trachea. There clearly was only one other option.
I grabbed the tips of the beaks behind me, and I pulled for all I was worth.
Does anyone remember those feather dusters? Have you ever held your hand around one and pulled the feathers through your fingers? I want you to imagine that feeling, but going through your neck. Feathers gently tickling around the entry points, and caressing the soft flesh. Oh, and add an adolescent member of the Anatidae family stuffed inside of it. My neck tripled in size to accommodate the large geese.
The geese, red with rage (which looks a lot like blood) snapped at me upon their release of their neck sheaths. I grabbed the bodies of two incapacitated foes, and swung them about over their heads. Beating them to death.
I am done with walks.
| 2013-04-26T08:24:12 | 2013-04-26T07:13:48 | 2,736 | 22 |
[WP] You made a promise with a girl to marry her 10 years later. 10 years have passed, you lost contact with her, but one day on the street, you bumped into her | I squinted a little as I stared into the distance trying to sink in what I just saw. It was her, and she looked amazing. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress with huge sunflowers printed across it, her skin has slightly tanned from 10 years ago but she still had the shoulder length hair and the fast clumsy walk which was recognisable almost anywhere.
I lengthened my strides in an effort to reach her, my heart pounding on my chest. I was hoping, praying that she would recognise me. After all, it has been 10 years. I have been hurt over and over again, so much so that I’ve actually given up. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to see her face. I knew it would do me good.
I catch up with her at a pedestrian crossing, she turned around and looked at me; and almost instantaneously she turned back to face the lights. “Doesn’t she know me?” “Is it still her?” “Does she hate me?” thousands of questions flooded my mind as I pondered as to why she didn’t acknowledge me.
I see her turning again, and I realised that she didn’t recognise me at first. “Oh my god, David?”” Is that you?” she asked. I felt relieved, somehow she seems to be the only one who calls me David and she makes it sound so sweet. I saw her eyes twinkle under the sunlight, turning turquoise. A bead of sweat on her forehead glistened in the hot day. He hair was falling over her forehead and she had neatly brushed them behind her ear. She still had the slightly raspy voice. She still was the person I left crying.
I felt so happy; I was a confused 16 year old, caught in the throes of puppy love. I rejected her for the promises that came with growing up. Money, Love, Education and Security. Promises that never came true. All these didn’t matter in that fleeting second she reached out to hug me.
Without hesitation, I pushed her hand away. She couldn’t see me like this. She looked at me with those kind eyes, they look almost distraught. I could read what she was thinking. Where did you go wrong? It’s the question I asked myself every day since I let her go. I couldn’t do it, I just looked at her and said “Pardon me Ma’am, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
She looked confused, she bit her lips and apologised. She reached into her bag and took out her purse. She was apologising as she took out a crisp 20 dollar bill and placed it onto my hand. I could feel my eyes well up, she was still as giving. My tears rolled down my grimy, unshaven face, as I replied “God bless you” I took a deep breath “and hopefully David too.”
| "Hey, how crazy is this" she says, obviously trying to sound casual.
"Yeah, it's nearly unbelievable that we'd just run into each other after all this time." You're late for work, gotta keep this short.
"Yeah, maybe it's fate or something, since we made that promise and all."
What promise? Ohh yeah, god you were stupid back then. You've been in and out of loves so much more intense and heartbreaking than anything you can imagine happening with this girl, you can't believe you ever thought she was close to your type. Whatever, gotta get to work. "I don't believe much in fate, but look, I've got to go..."
"Yeah, sure, it's stupid, but hey, do you want to grab coffee later or something".
"I don't know... I've got plans for tonight," you lie. She twists her mouth to the side, like she knows you're lying but doesn't want to say anything.
"Well, what about tomorrow then?" Damn, this is becoming awkward.
"Look, I'm late for work, I can't really think about this now." Lame excuse.
"Oh, ok, well here's my number in case you change your mind." She pulls out a slip of paper with her number on it, in perfect handwriting.
"Sure..." You rush off. The workday drags but you finally get off and head towards home. As you approach your block, you spot her waiting to cross the street. You pretend not to notice, she doesn't.
"Wow, twice in the same day! Didn't you say you had plans tonight?"
"Yeah, just heading there now." There's that twist of the mouth again. You start to move towards your apartment again.
"Hey, wait!" She moves to intercept you, but too fast and you end up bumping into her. Her purse gets jostled off her shoulder and hits the ground, spilling it's contents. Wow, that's a lot of photos. Of you! Recent ones.... And a sheet of paper with your daily schedule, work address, and home address written on it.
"What the fuck!?"
"I..." she starts to tear up, "I just, you know, well, I always really wanted that promise to get fulfilled... but you moved away, so fate needed a little help... I may have gone a bit overboard" Her breathing starts to get a bit faster. "Please, just give me a chance."
"A bit overboard?" you say incredulously. "Look, this isn't happening. You should move on with your life. That's the best I can do for you" You walk away again. She's following... fuck. You start walking faster, but she matches your pace, sobbing now. Eventually you're running, and you get enough of a head start to make it to your apartment with time to get inside.
You hear her slump down against the door, shaking sobs coming raggedly. You can't deal with this. Into the kitchen, you start making dinner, trying not to think about the situation. Then the doorbell starts ringing. Once, then silence for a while. Then again, and less silence this time. The frequency increases until there's no waiting, just ringing. Then it stops. Silence. One last ring, then nothing.
Work still drags. | 2014-08-08T01:10:46 | 2014-08-07T21:03:24 | 56 | 16 |
[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system. | After four days of intense debate, the United Nations Security Council had still not reached a consensus regarding the alien message.
The Chinese argued that the message should be taken seriously and that all radio and television signals had to be shielded or restricted. The Russians proclaimed that the planet was under threat and the world should pool resources and mobilise immediately.
The American proposal was to contact the sender of the message to learn more of the threat.
The US President was about to argue his case yet again when he saw his Science Advisor approaching.
"Sir, you have to see this. We've decoded more of the message."
The President scanned the sheet of paper. "What am I looking at here?"
His advisor spoke quickly. "It's a spatial chart. These co-ordinates refer to quasars and we're pretty sure these refer to black holes. It tells us where in space the aliens consider the threat to come from."
"And where would that be?" the President demanded.
The Science Advisor swallowed nervously. "Well, Sir, we've narrowed it down to our system."
"Our system?"
"Yes Sir. You see, the message isn't to us, it's about us." | Of course, it was too late. Far too late. For all he knew, that repeating message had been there for them all the way back on that dizzying first day of February, 1985 - when he had joined the SETI team as a fresh-faced intern right out of grad school. As the cab raced from Dulles International toward Capitol Hill, his imagination feverishly shot back more than 30 years to conjure the disturbing contrast:
Discovery 3 had just returned to earth as the 15th successful shuttle mission, the Japanese had sent a probe off to investigate Haley's comet, Springsteen's "Born in the USA" was playing on damn near every radio station, and somewhere out in the Stygian black depths of interstellar space, someone - something - was all but pleading for an entire planet to shut the fuck up. To lay low. To be still and to be quiet.
But then, the launch of SETI fit right in with the exciting things that were happening around the world at the time. Nobody considered that their first effort at turning a listening ear toward space was really no more effective than trying to capture a fiber-optic hosted data packet with a telegraph. Not until today that is. Something was coming. Something so terrible in its incomprehensibly large scale that even 30 years of advance warning likely would not have been enough.
And so it was that as he dashed up the marble stairs toward his Congressional hearing, he missed the voicemail from the New Mexico office. The one that told of the signal suddenly going dark. The one in which his longtime colleague and good friend reported, with hysteria creeping into his otherwise renowned deadpan drawl, that everything was going dark. Radio silence, across the board. | 2014-10-03T11:51:40 | 2014-10-03T11:48:12 | 1,099 | 21 |
[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system. | "Keep quiet or they'll find you"
Six words. Six words and suddenly we have military cruisers in space in three years. Nasa was now receiving the same funding as the rest of the US military combined.
Didn't take long for someone to verify that guns worked in space. It also didn't take long for the first barrel to melt. Seriously, it was four bullets before melting. So now the guns are watercooled. Which meant a larger pack. Which meant a bigger jetpack. Which in turn allowed for more oxygen and longer flights. You kept going through these cycles until you had these one man fighter ships being launched from the equilivant of aircraft carriers.
We now had space elevators after the US Gov't claimed some land in Brazil taking 100 tons of fuel and equipment up at twenty times the speed of sound each trip.
Lasers were becoming a real weapon now, and so was rail guns. Hell, we were even starting nuclear testing on the moon.
Which by the way, we had a serious ten million strong colony set-up, by the chinese and russians. Somehow despite it being strictly a military base, there was a lot of brothels, booze, and porn up there. All because it's much easier to get into orbit around the moon.
Quite a beautiful site, seeing the colony on a new moon. With a decent telescope, you could see super-freighters docking in the moon's station and off=loading cargo to be taken to the surface.
Every so often they'll start some nuclear tests or digging operation and you can see the nukes clearly, even during the day.
The towering elevators were awe inspiring, you simply couldn't see the top. It just keep going and your mind just blanked at the sheer size of them.
Of course due to the fact camo is not a factor in space, the pilots and crew are allowed to paint their ships however they want. A Japanese Cruiser famously had a 200 meter tall anime girl on the side.
The Chinese Hyper-Ship was painted to look like a dragon. An American Super-Cruiser was painted with the flag, mcdonalds, walmart, guns, and general american stuff.
Hell, a controversial Southerner Pilot had his fighter painted like the General Lee.
Somehow in all the war and fear mongering, something beautiful happened. Art flourished in it's most primitive form. | Elisa hurries through the hall, shedding papers from the heavy stack in her arms. Without knocking, she bursts into Fred Turek's office, and spreads the papers across his desk. "It's a message."
"I hear that once a week. One of you gets your undies in a bundle over a little blip in data," he replies, shaking his head. "We often see patterns were there are none. It's like watching the clouds and thinking you see a dog. Or seeing Jesus' face imprinted on your toast."
"This is real, Fred."
"Dr. Turek to you."
"I've shown it to Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa, and they all agree -- there's something here, Fr-- Dr. Turek."
"Well, then, what do they think it says? 'Hello, dear Earthlings'? 'May I borrow some sugar'? 'We want to serve man'?" Fred says, sipping his coffee and scrunching his face at the bitterness.
"They think," Elisa says, in a wavering voice, "it says 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'"
Fred's eyes widen for a moment, and his face goes pale. "You say Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa all agree that there's a pattern, and that's what it says?"
"Yes. They all came to that conclusion independently."
Fred taps his fingers on the table nervously. "Tell them I'll meet with them in a half hour." He gestures for her to leave; the door clicks shut behind her. He picks up the phone, sweaty fingers slipping over the numbers, and says into the receiver: "We're in grave danger." Silence. "We received a transmission: 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'" Pause. "Well, you know we're in danger when damn aliens are warning us!" A sigh. "Yes -- notify them all." Click.
Meanwhile, Elisa stares at the monitor, eyes glazed over. The jagged dip of the graph, its irregular curve, and scattered flatlines all read like a death sentence. Every pixel is familiar to her; she's stared at it for hours, now. As a lowly intern, she initially didn't know what it meant, until the other three deciphered it for her; but she instinctively feared it. The tingling in her arms and legs intensifies; the world reels around her. "We're dead. We're all as good as dead."
The door bursts open. Mark, the experienced decipherer, paces in. "Elisa, we got another transmission."
Faint overcomes her; she can barely think straight. "What? What did it say?" she asks, breath catching in her throat.
"I don't think the message was intended for us, Elisa."
"What do you mean?"
"The second message says," Mark says, his voice wavering with fear, "'If you don't keep quiet, they'll find you. Earth will find you!'" | 2014-10-03T12:00:46 | 2014-10-03T11:59:23 | 101 | 32 |
[WP] An indecisive man begins to use an old coin to decide which teams to bet on. When it becomes clear the coin never errs, the man begins to use the coin to make all of his decisions, with dire consequences ensuing. | It had been just a few years since I had started flipping this coin. The thing seemed ancient: I could barely make out the face of George Washington on the thing anymore. It was my savior.
How many times had I used that thing? Brazil versus Germany. Manchester City versus Real Madrid. New York Yankees against their age-old rivals the Red Sox. Each flip had gotten me thousands in those days.
That coin never let me down. When the money came rolling in, family started to leave, friends came only for the cash, and my wife couldn't stand the pressure. But this coin, it was my only friend.
It was.
But no matter what I do, I can't change deaths. I can't change the decisions of other people. There's only one thing this quarter can do, and that's telling me the inevitable. I knew about my mother's death three years in advance, and everything I tried never changed the flip's outcome.. My daughter's dead to me, but she'll be alive and breathing for around two weeks. There's nothing that I can do, and it kills me.
I hate it. I despise it. I abhor it. It's bought about nothing good in my life. It's my nemesis. My enemy. It's the devil.
In an act of final desperation, I take it into my hand one last time.
"Will I ever end up happy?"
With a flick of my thumb, a silver flash that will decide my fate appears in the air.
In God We Trust. | Having people fly him privately to Vegas was as new as was his well-tailored suit. In fact everything in his life was new, and it all came from this tarnished old silver coin. How and where had he picked it up? He remembered finding it in his pants pocket after a long night of blackjack and Ledaig scotch at the casino by his old house. From that moment on the coin and him were constant companions. He had never picked a losing horse or sports team when the coin decided the winner. Sadly, the bookies wouldn’t take his calls anymore. Then cancer struck and his wife got sick. His blood ran cold when she told him. In desperation he fumbled in his pocket, thought of his wife, flipped the coin, and it showed an old Venetian palazzo with the inscription felix culpa. He stared blankly as it sank in, tails. Money from his careful betting could buy the best cancer treatment the world had to offer, but it couldn’t break the luck of the toss.
How do you tell someone that you will not help them because your talisman told you to steer clear? His niece asked for help with college and he put together a trust fund together. Six months later she entered drug rehab. The trust fund was gone and her six month stint was almost up, yet the coin still showed tails. Was his lifelong dream of opening a brewery going to succeed? Would it be wise to reconnect with the family that now sent him cards on his birthday? Would dumping this damn coin in the Mariana trench or in the nearest active volcano keep it out of humanities claws? All of them answered consistently tails.
He pulled the coin from his pocket and flicked it into the air. The tarnished silver blur spun back to earth and he caught it with grim satisfaction. He looked down and it showed the old pallazo for one last time. “Such a small thing to cause such destruction”, he murmured and stepped forward. The coin was still gripped firmly in his hand as he boarded the plane.
I have been lurking in this sub-reddit for a while and thought I would try a prompt since I can't sleep, that feeling of tired but still completely wired. I am sorry for any grammatical errors. Any constructive criticism is appreciated. | 2014-10-26T03:42:09 | 2014-10-26T02:01:20 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Write a really great story that ends so anticlimatically that I hate you. | My hand is firmly wrapped around the edge. As I clutch on for dear life, I begin to think how I could have avoided this situation. I run millions of scenarios in my mind, but all of them bring me back to this point. I struggle mightily against the gargantuan force that opposes me. Then, suddenly, a divine rush of strength sweeps through my body. I can feel a tentative, yet noticeable rotation beneath my fingers. My sweaty hands beginning to slip, I push forward for one last effort. Success. I hear a click and complete the rotation. Then, I take a pickle out of the jar and walk back to the sofa to watch the Jacksonville Jaguars play against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. | The news was out.
It was official that Super Guy and Super Girl were going to have a baby together. The two superheros that continually save the world were going to pass on both of their genes to one child! Everyday, the hype would build more and more.
Shows and movies started coming out on the Super Baby when he wasn't even born yet. It started making international headlines with even political debates being held to see where the baby was going to protect. Scientists out of the top universities in the world started trying to predict the powers the baby might have. When the results came back to the powers the baby might have shocked the world.
Suddenly, crime increased exponentially. When news released at the overpowered powers this baby might have, people became scared that they could never commit crimes anymore. Murder increased 1022% worldwide and rape went up 941%. Drug use went up so much that every other person in the world would be on at least one substance by the end of the year. The world was coming down in ruins over the news and the governments of the world didn't know what to do. There was so much crime that even Super Guy and Super Girl didn't know what to do anymore. The world was now waiting for Super Baby to be born to fix the whole mess with all of his overpowered powers.
Super Baby was stillborn.
-
Edit: Grammar. | 2014-12-21T18:39:13 | 2014-12-21T18:12:08 | 1,223 | 645 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA... | My hands shake violently as I tear open the letter. The mailman looks at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am. I certainly used to think so myself, all those times I felt like something was *wrong* with me - that something about me was different. I know I was being irrational, an angsty, paranoid teenager, but still... I have to know. Even though my parents keeps reassuring me that I'm just like everyone else ("but you're still special!"), I have to be sure. And now I have the answer in my hands.
Trying to steady myself, I unfold the single sheet of paper and skim through the lines. *"Dear Mr... thank you for... curious as to where you acquired...* And there it is.
I feel like the world stands still. Everything else fades into the distance until it's just me and the letter in a vast black sea. I don't know how long I stand like that, but eventually, I hear my Mom's voice cut through the black.
"Honey? Are you okay? What's that in your hand?"
Her words are drowned out by the contents of the letter, echoing in my head: *"We were unable to process the sample, but I took the liberty of sending it to a colleague of mine..."* I look down at my hand and see for the first time that it's not really a hand. My legs almost collapse under me, unable to bear to weight of the truth. I let out a cry for help that sounds like nothing out of a human throat. All the while, the last line of the letter echoes on like a bell: *"The sample is not human. It is actually the DNA of a crustacean from the Paleolithic Era. Enclosed, you'll find a bill for $3.50."*
The ground shrinks away from me, making me dizzy, and I drop the letter when I realize my hand is actually an enormous webbed fin. The letter falls to the floor. I try to run but my stumpy hind legs won't let me, and for the first time in my life, I walk like a dinosaur. | I panic at the words in bold. **Non-human DNA**. "What did that mean?" I mutter to myself. Suddenly, a wind came from behind. I turn to see a man in business suit standing where no one was before.
"Aw, about time you found out." The man said as he pocketed a small watch into his coat. "I swear, you guys get stupider ever year."
"Who are you?" I ask in wonder. he sigh and pull out a small notebook.
"47698365 times someone ask that when I appear. I wish just once someone would say that it bigger on the inside."
"What?"
"Never mind. Time for the speech. (Clear throat) Congratulation. you figure out that you are not human. Oh, how your life was a lie, that not true, yada yada yada. Okay, here the short version. You are a muse. your now responsible for someone idea. You are to help people realize there big dream and hopes. I am here to lead you to your job."
"Wait but what about my family?" I ask. He gave the look of *seriously* and shook his head.
"They were made up! Did you really never question why they were two time winner of the NASCAR finals when they were Amish!?! We make it as ridicules as possible in hope you would get it! Anyway, we're late. Just think this as your fate." He said and with that he snapped his fingers.
The world black out and came back in some kind of apartment. I look to see a man staring at a laptop, hands poised over a keyboard. Maybe this will the next great novel or maybe a thesis that will change the world. I started walk over to get a better look but the man started to read what he was typing out loud.
"Dean turn over to Rainbow Dash and said in deep, sexy voice. " Let see if we can find one thing your not fast at." Rainbow Dash help remove Dean Winchester shirt with easy. This is all being watch by Two-Face. He turn to his other companies, Krillin and Cortana, preparing to flip his coin. "If it head, it Krillin turn. If tail, I'll give Cortana a go." He flip knowing it land on head and he'll be with his one true love." The man said, plunging his hand into a bag of chips.
I stood there, mouth hanging in shock, as I try to turn away from this. But a strong force push be closer to the man. So close, that I could smell he wasn't wearing deodorant and I hope it was sweat stain on him.
"This is going to suck." I said as he started to type again. | 2015-01-06T10:21:48 | 2015-01-06T08:44:25 | 67 | 16 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Great Places for a first date
Proposal Ideas
Bible - Verses about being a good husband
Oregon Coast Beach Homes
Horseback Riding Rental - Newport Oregon
Wedding Venues - Seattle WA
Bible - Verses about Marriage
Plane Tickets
Hawaiian Excursion Ideas
Travel Planner
Travel Agents - Seattle WA
How do we get pregnant?
Bible - Verses about Children
Why can't we get pregnant?
How can I tell if my wife is infertile?
How can I tell if I am sterile?
Can an ovarian cist prevent pregnancy?
Ovarian Cist
Difference Between Benign & Malignant
Bible Verses - Grief, Death
What's the difference between stage 3 and stage 4 cancer?
Survival Odds - Metastasized to bones
How to deal with cancer in a loved one
How do we write a will?
How does a spouse leave everything to their husband?
Grief Counseling - Coping with the death of a loved one
Is there really a God?
Atheist support group | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T16:31:22 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 253 | 10 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | *I thought a more uplifting story may be nice*
Monster.com
Monster.com how to find a job
How to find a job on the internet
How to apply for unemployment
Can't pay rent
Eviction laws Phoenix
Animal shelter Phoenix
No kill animal shelter phoenix
Homeless shelter phoenix
Interview techniques
How to ace an interview
How to get a suit when you're homeless
How to do an interview when you're homeless
Bus rout phoenix
Motivation
How to be motivated
Microsoft certification
First day in the office
Phoenix apartments
Cheap furnitue
Cheap furniture Phoenix
craigslist couch Phoenix, AZ
Investing
How to invest
No kill animal shelter Phoenix
Readopting pets
How to get promoted
Dating your coworker
Veterinarian flagstaff
How to get a promotion
How to get a transfer
Monster.com
First date tips
How to ace an interview
Apartments Flagstaff
Long distance relationships
Jewelry stores Flagstaff
Hotels Phoenix
5 star restaurant phoenix
Houses for sale flagstaff
Wedding photographer | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T20:36:22 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 34 | 10 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Best private school LA
LA public school system
Jobhunter LA
Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
Modern student backpacks
How to qualify for an education loan
Return Klip-pack 9000
Amazon Ninja Turtles rolling backpack
Rain jacket size small
What to do if your apartment floods
Budget plumbers LA
From Columbus to America book rental
How to help your kids with math
Best Christmas presents for kids 2014
Chronic pain in throat
Cold medicine Amazon
Chronic coughing
How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program
How to pay for cancer treatment without health insurance
Part time jobs LA
Craigslist jobs LA
Alternative medicine LA
What is chemo therapy
Throat cancer surgery success rate
How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
How to qualify for a loan with bad credit
Ninja Turtles Raphael doll Amazon
Child caskets LA | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] After moving house as a child you found adjusting to your new town really tough. Now as an adult you've realised that your family moved through time. | I knew I was born on the outskirts of Chicago and vaguely remember the split level house where I lived the first 5 years of my life. But we moved when I was very young, although I never really got the full story. I think it was for my dad’s job, but as I got older I picked up subtext of us kind of escaping something, although I have no idea what. My parents passed away when I was a teen, and I never got the full story.
We moved to a small town in New Mexico. I remember it being a stark adjustment from the cold of Chicago to the blazing heat of the southwest. We had no air conditioning, and really, a lot of the amenities I vaguely recall from being a kid. Like watching color cartoons on (what felt like) a *huge* TV on Saturday mornings, and a sort of portable jukebox thing. But the southwest was a simpler place, and we just didn’t have as much. Heck, nobody did.
Now, it’s 30 years later and by circumstance I’ve moved back to Chicago for my own new job with a government think-tank. It feels like a kind of full circle. And now I have my own wonderful family - my wife and I just adopted a beautiful baby boy and we’re looking for our own new house. I thought I’d check out the neighborhood where I lived several decades ago, and although I thought the landmarks would have changed over all those years, it’s actually strangely familiar.
I found a nice house on a street I think is close to where I used to live. It’s new construction, a whole new development. We got a nice split level, it feels comfortable and familiar, and I look forward to raising my son here.
*5 years later*
I have to get out of here. I realized where I am, *when* I am, *who* I am. So I’ve borrowed something from work, and we’re going to New Mexico. This time I have a plan, this time it will work out right. | My dad never really said what his job was. I knew it was something with the military, but after that, I couldn't really get any specifics out of him.
What it meant for me is that we had to move. A lot. To all different kinds of places.
I remember our first house, even though I was just a baby. It was a nice little ranch house. I remember the appliances in it still, the refrigerator, the stove, the washer and dryer. They seem so strange to think about now, those things we left behind us. They wouldn't work where we were going, and even if they would have, we still couldn't bring them.
In fact, we couldn't bring any of our old stuff. For every trip, we bought (or, more often, sewed) new clothes, and brought only a few valuables beside-- gold chains, silver rings and the like.
I remember our second house. It was an apartment in the inner city, and it was filled with people. A tenement, my dad called it. A lot of the people we lived with there spoke a different language.
I had to learn new languages, some. Most times I just had to keep up with the local dialect, so my words and accent didn't sound "anachronistic." Or so my dad said.
I remember our third house. It was a great two-story with a huge porch. I used to sit on that porch and watch the people go by.
Now, it's my sixteenth birthday. My dad says that means I'm pretty much an adult now. I've become a man.
So he brought me here, to the sitting room of our fourth house. Now, we lived on a huge, sprawling estate with a mansion at its center. There were hundreds of workers out in the fields. But soon we'll have to move again, dad says.
Only this time, he says, he's going to tell me why. Finally, I'm going to find out the truth of his job, the reason I could never stay in one place and call it "home."
"Son," he says, after we sit together in silence for a moment, "there's no easy way to say this, and it's going to sound. . . Frankly, unbelievable. But. . . I'm a time traveler, studying certain points of interest for the government. When we moved from house to house, we were traveling through time.
"I'm telling you this because things are about to get a lot tougher from here on out. Our next move will be from the antebellum South to pre-colonial times." | 2015-09-23T08:46:03 | 2015-09-23T04:03:53 | 111 | 57 |
[WP] 10 years ago, scientists discovered that there is something after death. And it's bad, really really bad. | I got hit by a car yesterday. No big deal. I was a good Christian so I knew I was going to heaven. To be honest, I was pretty happy to die. I saw the light and thought "Hell yeah, let's do this, Jesus!"
But when I finally got close enough, I saw that the light was not heaven, but something else, like a video. It was a song...
"We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"
"No," I thought. "This can't be the afterlife. Why God? What did I do? Why!? Why!!!!!!!!!!?"
But it was too late. The song was looping. God had Rick rolled me. | He had died. His bodily functions had halted- and yet- he was still awake. It was a hazy sort of awareness, but at least he was conscious. For the first few days he was content. Then, as time carried on relentlessly, he realized he couldn't be sure what a day was anymore.
Then soon, the loosening from his material brain began. Slowly, he began to lose bits of knowledge, memories, reasoning, logic. His last memory that he held onto desperately was his name and the face of his only child, but even that he lost eventually, never to remember even remembering either. His mind was vacant and empty. His brain had rotted away, and he had lost all physical connection to his body.
But that wasn't the end. Despite the loss of identity and name, his consciousness still existed. Disconnected from a brain to hold him in one single mind space, he flitted from one mind space of a living being to another, an empty, meaningless entity, unknowing but existent. Sometimes he shared a mind space with a small insect, sometimes with a human. Often, the mind space would already be filled with several other memory-less entities.
Sometimes when he entered a mind space, there would be strong emotions, and his consciousness would absorb a bit of that emotion and feeling. Then, when he flew to another brain, he'd carry that emotion with him, releasing it into the mind space of another person or animal. Guilt, greed, anger, love, passion, empathy, all those he blindly carried from being to being. His conscious self, like the conscious self of many others who too had died, was fated to fly from mind space to mind space, unknowing, unthinking, forever. | 2015-09-26T19:08:49 | 2015-09-26T18:57:12 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | "What do you mean they aren't all Muslims yet?"
"Sorry m'lord, so much has happened. As you recall, the fertile crescent stopped being so fertile, than the crusades, imperialism, the industrial revolution, computers, the Christians just kept coming out ahead... its all in the records, you'll want to read up on it before you make your big reappearance."
"Wait, ahead?! But I clearly said that Mohammed was the last messenger! I even recorded it in holy text, just like before! Why isn't this one taking as well as the new testament did?"
"Well, you see..."
"And how the Hell did Christianity get over half the world to convert to it? That wasn't even the final draft!"
"Sire, its more like one third."
"Ohhh, I thought you said Christians were ahead. 2 to 1 isn't so bad, then we're only a little behind schedule."
"No m'lord, Muslims are around one forth."
"WHAT? that leaves... seven tenths. What could the-"
"Five twelfths m'lord."
"Whatever. Ok so what do the other five twelves believe? It's another false prophet right? That's why I specifically warned them about those, they never listen."
"No... no major religions since you left m'lord."
"What... Oh jeeze, tell me the Jews didn't make a comeback. I told them they were my chosen people once and now they won't take a hint. They're always trying to argue with me, what's up with that? So annoying"
"No m'lord, right here, book WW2 line 24 in the records."
"Thanks, I'm so glad we number the lines in these, so much more convenient that way."
"As you requested m'lord."
"Oh... oh no, five million, with gas. wow... *sniff* my chosen people... Wait, so if its not the Jews then why are our numbers so low?"
"There's a few competitors actually, Christianity at one third is still the biggest, Hindus around 15%, non believers..."
"Hindus? STILL? It has been like 3000 years!"
"Non believers 12%, buddists 8%, the rest are even smaller."
"Which ones growing quickest?"
"Non believers."
"What a mess."
"...Flood?"
"Flood."
*Toilet flushing sound*
"Let's start again with the tree and the garden. Go ahead and cut all of the endangered species this time. We'll need room for these new models I want to try. Check this one out..." | The final age had come for Urth.
Through careful nudging and ever-distant signs (with a few unexplained *miracles* in the mix), El had successfully nurtured the inhabitants of the galaxy he'd numbered NGC 6744 into a self-sustaining, peaceful, ever-progressing utopia. The residents of the Nougat Galaxy were set from now to the end of time, at which point he'd usher them into a higher plane of existence in the 5th dimension.
For now, all seemed well, and although most of his attention had been on the Nougat, a cursory glance showed El that the other thousands of worlds he was cultivating were doing well (a few others already having reached utopia status also).
There were a few galaxies in turmoil and chaos, but as with all young creations, it was a part of the process. Nothing beautiful can be forged without first experiencing a bedlam pit to give a character of uniqueness.
As El scanned the heavens, he saw that all was good, and he smiled at the work he had done - that is, until his eyes fell upon the Milky Way Galaxy for the first time in seven hundred and fifty years.
A world he had left in the cusp of technological improvement after a miserable dark period of warring Crusades and other maligned and unapproved greed in His name had somehow descended into darkness again. Only this time, the darkness masqueraded as light - unmanned instruments of war pretended to be more pacified alternatives to the carnage of human militias, and conglomerates of commerce and finance parades as if they were bastions of equal opportunity, but the truth was too evident to his eyes as the creator of worlds: the technology meant to usher the safety and comfort of his people had been perverted to a technology holding them in subjugation and misery, the global communities meant to draw his people closer to one another had been tainted to form corrupt oligarchs riding comfort on the backs of slaves.
El watched the humans destroy the planet he had so carefully crafted, and his wrath grew great. They had taken his land, his air, his creatures, and demented them into a nature so beyond his wishes that he was not sure how to fix it.
Debating himself on the notion of destroying the plague of humanity before it's disease spread to his other worlds, El delayed his decision. But as he watched more, he saw.
There was still hope: a true light in the sea of false. The Milky Way galaxy had not yet failed, and his hope to spread the humans across its planets could still be achieved. They still had a chance to save themselves from the wilds of their own deceit and self-aggrandizing suicide. They could still be taught to wage peace instead of war, to trust their neighbors instead of fear, to love one another and work together to build a true utopia where not a single one of their members goes hungry or dies of neglect and necessity, where only those who have lived a full life pass peacefully into the next.
Just as Urth and Aerth and Erath and even Thrae had grown, so would Earth.
El quickly checked his list of worlds, and he saw that he would be able to focus on this world. He centered his thoughts and began his work.
There was so much to be done. | 2015-12-27T09:56:08 | 2015-12-27T09:53:57 | 167 | 40 |
[WP] Write a story that begins and ends with the same sentence, but has a different meaning at the end. | But he would have to wake up soon.
His wife insisted as she reached over to his side of the bed. He embraced her lovingly as she felt safe in his arms.
Oh, how he had missed her after all the months she had spent in the hospitals.
The two of them danced that evening like they did all those years ago. They kissed with a passion that they would remember for the rest of their lives.
He had never been happier to see his wife again.
But he would have to wake up soon.
____________________________
Thanks for reading. Remember, your tears feed and keep me alive.
| God, I miss Louie so much.
He could make anyone laugh- honestly, even if I was having the *worst* day, he'd find a way to put a smile on my face. He was a lover through and through, to the end- not like other boys his age who were rough, wild and rowdy. He was gentle, kind and sweet, and he was mine. He didn't care what I looked like, or linger on my mistakes. Every day, he was just there for me, through thick and thin.
Even when he fell ill, as we moved across the country to start a new life, he didn't complain, or become bitter. I didn't know anyone there, and he kept me company when the days grew lonely.
Even in his last moments, when he was dying in a hospital, *he* comforted *me* as the tears flowed freely from my eyes and I could no longer maintain my composure. He looked so happy, so peaceful and calm- you could almost forget he was dying. I couldn't bear to lose him, to lose my best friend; the one who was always there for me.
He was the best cat in the whole world. God, I miss Louie so much.
---------------------
*RIP little buddy* | 2016-02-10T19:49:57 | 2016-02-10T18:50:55 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] "You may have one wish granted." "I want all my debts cleared." "How much do you owe?" "You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." | He closed his eyes and felt for the pull. England, suburbia a small house with an unkempt garden just grass and weeds. First floor second door on the right. He opened his eyes.
The kid was young, seven years tops wearing ninja turtles pyjamas that were too small, thin forearms and legs sticking out. He was on his knees his hands clasped tight in front of him whispering fervently.
‘You’re a little young to be talking to me’ the man said softly, his voice deep and easygoing. Kid jumped up eyes wide and fearful stumbling back a couple of steps. He looked like he was about to cry but he swallowed hard gaze never leaving the figure in front of him. The man was tall and dressed in black. Black shirt, black jeans, black hair pale white skin and eyes that were just a shade off being black.
‘Are …’ the kid swallowed again ‘Are y-you… AreyouGod?’ the words all tumbling out at once as they finally came. He’s shivering, must be terrified thought the man but he couldn’t help noticing it was colder than it should be in here.
‘No. I’m not. I’m the … other one. Sometimes when people pray it’s me that hears them instead. I don’t usually meet many as young as you though.’ The man half knelt, resting hand on one of his knee. ‘What is it you need?’
‘I want to’ screwing up his eyes in thought and pronouncing the next words carefully ‘repay my debt please.’
The man tilted his head to one side ‘Pretty sure you shouldn’t be owing anyone anything at your age. Who do you owe?’
The kid looked down at the floor hugging his arms around himself and mumbled something.
‘Sorry I didn’t quite catch that’
He took half a step forward then moved back still hugging himself. ‘Daddy says I’m a… burden. That he wishes I was never born. He says I cost too much. I just want to repay him so so I’m not causing him problems.’ Tears began to roll down his cheeks but he didn’t make a sound, just stood there hugging himself.
The man sighed. ‘I don’t get on with my dad too good either.’ A few moments of quiet then the man snapped his fingers. The kids eyes closed and he swayed but the man caught him before he hit the floor, picking him up and carrying him to bed.
Tucking him under his plain blue duvet the man took a dog eared stuffed cat from the foot of the bed and placed it next to the kid. Looking around the room was telling. Not many toys in here. The posters looked old and too young for a seven year old. The heating wasn’t turned on.
‘This’ll all just be a dream tomorrow’ he murmured. The man stood and turned striding through the wall feeling out the other presence here.
He found him slumped on a bed a few empty beer bottles lying next to him watching TV in an old stained t shirt and jeans. There was no sign of anyone else living here. As he saw the tall man he tried to rise from the bed ‘Who the fu…’ his voice turning strangled as he felt a vice like grip around his throat. He found himself rising from the bed, pressed back against the wall unable to move an inch. It was warm in here. The tall man noticed this and tightened his grip.
‘Two things.’ said the tall man. His voice was even but there was a hint of steel underneath. ‘First. If a drop of alcohol passes your lips anytime, anytime at all I’ll know. Outcome wouldn’t be good. You understand?’
Almost black eyes looked into the man’s fearful blue ones extracting nod.
‘Second. You look after your son. You care for him and look out for him and love him as best you can. If you have to be a better person to do that then you’re going to become a better person.’
The tall man raised a hand a sphere of red light the size of a marble swirling over his fingertips then darting towards the other man’s heart disappearing in flash as it touched him a white hot lance of pain exploding through his chest. With the force around his throat all he could do was whimper.
‘Sleep.’ The tall man commanded. Blue eyes head slumped forward unconscious as he was lowered to the bed. He might think it was all a dream – till he found the mark on his chest.
‘I’ll be back to check up on the kid sometime soon. I won’t let you forget your debts.’
| "Oh, also - does it matter how much I owe? As a genie can't you just clear them using your genie-magic?"
"Well, no. It doesn't really work like that. I'd have to call the banks and get a payoff amount"
"Right, but they're not monetary."
"Yeah, I heard you say that. I'm just explaining since you asked. Usually you have to pay the interest that you own through the day we decide to pay off the loan. Also there might be a prepayment penalty with some loans. The whole process isn't too bad if you just tell me you're ready now. I can probably make some calls. Shoot, the banks are closed right now. We'll have to wait until Monday and circle back."
"Alright, I get it. Like I said, the debts aren't monetary, so it's not really an issue."
"You don't have any financial debts?"
"No."
"Really, how?"
"I just don't. It's like I keep saying - there are other sorts of debts. I make a lot of promises. You know - marriage vows, military oaths, legal contracts, election promises, different affirmations. That sort of thing."
"Can I see your wallet?"
"Oh my God, fine. Here."
"You have like 4 credit cards in here!"
"One of those is a Best Buy Reward Zone card."
"You actually carry that around?"
"Yeah, of course. You get free Geek Squad setup for anything you buy."
"Alright, but what about these two Visas and this American Express."
"What about them?"
"They're credit cards! Do you use them?"
"Yeah, of course. Why else would I carry them around?"
"Well do you owe any money on them?"
"What do you mean?"
"You use them to pay for things, right?"
"That's what they're for."
"Okay, so when you use them to pay for things, you pay the credit card company back the money, right?"
"I don't follow."
"When you use these you have to pay the money back."
"You do?"
"Yes! How often do you use these?"
"Every day, pretty much. That's how I got the lamp you came out of just now."
"How much was that? Just curious."
"They wanted $40, but I talked them down to $30."
"That's it?! I'm worth way more than that! People have killed for this lamp!"
"Sorry man, but it's almost lunch. Can we just get back to clearing my debts?"
"Fine. But I can't believe you got this thing for $30; that's bullshit. Alright, dude - I'm going to level with you. From talking to you for the last couple of minutes I can tell you that you definitely have monetary debts, and they're probably significant."
"Well, I didn't really come here for financial advice. What are you, r/personalfinance?"
"There's nothing wrong with being financially responsible."
"I bought you for $30."
"Touché."
"Look man, can you just start with my marriage vows and we can go from there? Maybe if we have time we can tackle this whole credit card thing you keep harping on."
"You want to cancel your marriage vows?"
"I don't want to cancel them, I just want to walk them back a bit. You know - clear out some of the promises I made. You know, you get up there on the wedding day and there's a lot of pressure. You just sort of say what you think sounds good, then you get nervous, and all of a sudden you're making all kinds of promises you can't keep."
"You didn't write your wedding vows down beforehand?"
"No, I wanted it to seem sincere."
"What did you say?"
"The regular stuff. I take her to be my wife. In sickness and in health."
"And you're still good with that part, right?"
"Yeah. That part is good. And then the love and honor thing, and that I'd share her dreams, build a life, and so on."
"Still good."
"Yeah still good. But like I said, you start going through that list of things, and everyone's looking at you and wondering what else you'll say, and you start to panic. I mean, you don't want to leave anything out."
"Right, so what else did you say?"
"Well toward the end there, I said that I would always pay for the extra guacamole no matter what."
"Oh no."
"Yeah, and it was fine for a while, but with everything that's going on you can see what the issue is."
"Oh no."
"I know! I panicked! Can you fix this?!"
"The avocado thing, or the extra guacamole thing?"
"Well shit, I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Which would you do?"
"I'd probably do the avocado thing, honestly. But that means I can't clear these debts."
"Yeah, but *guacamole* man."
"Yeah, this is a tough call. I mean, it's really up to you. Like I said, it sounds like you have a lot of monetary debt."
"I still don't really get all that, but maybe let's do the avocado thing. Seems like the better move."
"It's really probably not, but I can do it."
"Yeah let's do it."
"Alright, done."
"Done?"
"Yep."
"You didn't have to make any calls or anything like you would have for the debts?"
"Nope."
"Fucking banks."
"Totally." | 2016-11-19T06:13:57 | 2016-11-19T06:03:57 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] After the premature death of the hero, the narrator decides to take matters into his own hands.
Edit: What the hell? I checked this the morning after, and was satisfied that it got 500 upvotes. Then I absentmindedly check it at the end of the day, and it is over 3500 and #1. You people like the most random stuff. | The Hero staggers and clutches his side, drawing irregular and ragged breaths as The Villain advances upon him.
“You put up a good fight,” The Villain says, his tone one of mild amusement - not dissimilar to the tone one uses when praising a child for completing a simple task. “But I’m afraid that our game has reached its inevitable end. There is Evil that needs doing, after all, and I no longer have time enough to spend sparring with you.”
The Villain pulls back his arm in preparation for delivering the final blow, but at the last moment, The Hero looks up, his eyes defiant. “Do what you will, coward. I am only a man. But beyond me, there is an idea. And ideas-”
He is cut off as The Villain delivers the fatal strike, stepping carelessly over The Hero’s now-lifeless body to-
.
Wait, wait. Hold on a second.
That’s *it*?
Oh, come *on*. You’ve got to be kidding me! You mean to tell me that I spent four-hundred pages narrating this guy’s backstory and his struggle against the myriad evils of the world just for him to die two pages from the end of the book? No fucking way. No. I will not be party to one of those “realist” superhero stories where The Villain wins in the end just because the author feels personally victimized by a world that hasn’t catered to his every whim, and now needs to ruin everyone else’s fun.
I mean, let’s be honest. Nobody reads superhero stories for their above-average writing, or their original plot, or their unique perspective. People read superhero stories to *escape* from something. They all know that the world is evil! And, they know that more often than not, the evil wins - hell, they only need to look at the recent political success of assorted radicalists for proof of that. Not that I know anything about that; I’m just a narrator. Anyway, the point that I’m trying to make is, people don’t read superhero stories to get an ending that they can get by putting down the book and turning on the news. They read superhero stories to get the ending that they know to expect - the ending that makes them feel inspired! They want to learn about the struggle of someone who is average - someone who is just like them - and feel that maybe, one day, they, too, can rise above. Who cares if it isn’t “realistic”? Of course it isn’t! That’s the point!
So yeah, sure, if this was happening in the “real” world, The Hero wouldn’t win. If this was happening in the “real” world (and let me just go ahead and protest that phrase right now, because how do *you* all know that you aren’t characters in *my* story, hm?), The Villain would have the money and the influence to ensure that The Hero never made it past high school, let alone into the most visible position that a modern champion of justice can occupy. Sure. I’ll grant that. But this isn’t the real world - it’s a fucking book. And I’m going to give it the ending it fucking deserves. And then I’m quitting. Good luck finding someone who can replace me.
.
The Villain pulls back his arm in preparation for delivering the final blow, but at the last moment, The Hero looks up, his eyes defiant. “Do what you will, coward. I am only a man. But beyond me, there is an idea. And ideas *cannot be killed*.”
And from somewhere deep within him, The Hero finds what he’d needed - that last spark of strength required to pull himself back to his feet, staggering, bleeding, and unbreakable. He finds it hidden behind memories of childhood bullies who’d always told him he was nothing; he finds it locked away in the prison of his heart, guarded by decades of discouragement from people who were always faster and stronger and smarter than he was. But most importantly, he finds that strength burning in the eyes of each of his onlookers, whose lives depend on the promise he made to never bow to Evil - no matter what.
“There are people who believe in me,” he grits out, taking one step toward The Villain as The Villain gazes upon him in horror. “And I cannot let them down.”
“But...how? You should be…!”
“I’m sick of everyone always telling me how I should be.” The Hero advances quickly upon The Villain, sensing that the strength with which he is currently compelled will not last long. “Let me tell you what I *am*: stronger than you.”
With those words, he delivers a blow - the finishing blow - to The Villain, collapsing alongside his fallen enemy, crowds of supporters rushing to his side in an attempt to tend to his wounds. As the edges of his vision grow dark and hazy, he manages to pick up a victorious shout from one of the people in the crowd: “The Hero did it! He won!”
A smile slides onto his face just as the world fades to black.
The End
(You’re fucking welcome.) | Mama is such a good driver. She takes me to school every morning in her little car. I have to sit in the back, cause she says I'm too small to ride shotgun. My sister gets to ride shotgun when she visits, cause she's a big kid. She's in college, and I think that's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Why would you keep going to stupid school if you didn't have to?
That's what I'm telling mama while she's taking me to school. Big, dumb, Scottsdale Elementary. What a dumb name for a dumb building.
We've gotta take the interstate to get there, we live outside of town. Mama likes living out in the sticks, says it's safer, calmer. I think it's boring. Mama tells me I gotta make my own fun while I'm still a kid. She's always talking about how us kids have it easy, cause we can still believe in our imaginations. I like to pretend I'm a space captain, and mama is my first mate. She usually plays along.
So now, while she's lecturing me on why school is important, and how she's so proud of my sister for moving to the big city to go to that fancy university, I make binoculars over my eyes, and make like I'm scanning the horizon.
"Admiral, take a look over there!" I say, pointing forward at the road ahead of us.
Mama makes a face like she's upset, glaring at me in the rear view, probably because I interrupted her. But, then, she smiles at me. "What is it, Captain?"
"There's danger up ahead! We're about to hit that asteroid field. Take evasive action!"
"Mikey, you know we can't pretend like that in the car, it's dangerous."
She looks back at me to see if I'm listening, and I've still got my hand-binoculars trained forwards.
She keeps lecturing but I don't hear it. I spot the car pulling out from the little dirt driveway. I'm trying to point it out but it all happens so fast. She was only turned around for half a second and before she can even start to turn back, there is half a car sticking way out into our lane. Mama always complains about this curve, about how dangerous it is to have a driveway right here, about how fast cars fly down the interstate, about--
BAM!
We smash right into the back right side of the old station wagon pulling out in front of us. The old lady driving the big old car didn't even see us before we hit, I could see her just staring straight into her rear view mirror, probably thinking 'All clear!'
Now the car is in the ditch, and I don't remember anything that happened since that loud crash as we hit the old lady in her station wagon.
"Admiral, give me a status report."
Nothing. I unbuckle my seat belt.
"Mama?"
Her face is buried in the airbag, her red lipstick smeared on part of it. The lipstick is running down the airbag, and starts to drip onto her lap. I realize that that's not lipstick. I give mama a shake, trying to get her to respond. More blood drips down from the big white marshmallow that exploded out of the steering wheel. She doesn't move.
I grab Mama's purse, and dig for her phone. She's got so much stuff in that bag. I dig and dig, trying to find the phone. I see a bag of Jolly Ranchers. She always gives me a Jolly Rancher when she drops me off for school. The watermelon ones are my favorite. I'm always sure to keep the watermelon ones for as long as possible. I chomp the other flavors up -- even though Mama always gripes at me, says it's bad for my teeth -- but never the watermelons. I found the phone.
I start dialing 9-1-1, and look behind us to see the station wagon spun out in the middle of the road. The old woman looks mighty shaken, and she's got a big marshmallow of an airbag hanging out of her wheel too. She's trying to get out of the car, but her seat belt is stuck or something.
"9-1-1 what's your emergency?"
I tell the nice lady on the phone all I know about where I'm at, and tell her my Mama is hurt real bad. She sounds nervous, but says help is on the way.
Somebody, some big old man, is running out of the little house the old lady must live in, and he's yelling "What happened, what happened!" Well the old lady told him what happened while he helped her out of the car, and now he's running over here. He helps me out of my seat, and sees my Mama lying there on the steering wheel, the big white bag mostly deflated now.
He lifts me out of the car and turns me away so I can't see Mama anymore.
I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I can't stop crying, and I bury my face into the old man's shoulder. The old lady is looking past us at my Mama's car, and she starts crying too. I keep thinking about how, when I get to school, all the kids will know I've been crying and I start to get frustrated with myself. I hate that place, but I wish I was there now, I wish Mama was still driving me there, I wish I wasn't crying like a baby, and I wish I didn't have my face buried in this stranger's shoulder. And now this old woman is patting me on my back, and trying to say something to me, but I can't hear her over my own stupid sobbing. All I can think is that, for once in my life, I actually want to be at school. | 2017-07-05T15:20:23 | 2017-07-05T14:27:59 | 1,230 | 105 |
[WP] In the future, to pass college you no longer must pass written finals. Instead, you are simply dropped into a real life scenario related to your major, and left to fend for yourself with your new found knowledge.
*My first post on WP, sorry if it's a repeat and/or against any rule(s)*
Edit: wow, sincerely thank you all so much! was not expecting my first post on WP to go front page! | "I said skim with low fat caramel!" the lady screamed at me as I snapped back into myself. I was still trying to adjust to my current reality. A barista? This was my exam? I had spent 4 years working towards this degree and this was my exam?!?! Well, I guess my parents may have been right after all. Wait what am I saying? Get it together, you've come this far, no sense in stopping now, this is a pretty trendy shop at least.
"My apologies ma'am, I'll fix that right up for you!" I rolled up the sleeves of my flannel shirt, tucked my ironic beard into my beard net and proceeded to make the most beautiful latte that coffee shop has ever seen, complete with a rendering of Van Gogh's Starry Night in the foam. Perhaps tomorrow I could work on trying to recreate a couple Monets. Who said Art wasn't a useful major! | I stood silently in the large safe at the back of the now smoke-filled bank. Everything was going as rehearsed. I watched the guys empty the shelves, filling their plain, unbranded bags with stacks of money. On cue, another guy came around the corner carrying deposit boxes in his arms. One of the boxes was stuck open, prevented from closing all the way by its now loose contents. Diamonds, jewelry, and presumably valuable paperwork fell to the ground as he hurriedly dumped the loot into an empty bag. Suddenly a loud pop rang through the safe, echoing back and forth off the steel walls. I still flinched, even though I knew it was coming. The man with an armful of metal boxes and stolen treasure fell to the floor, now bleeding from the chest, revealing a man behind him holding a warm gun.
"Cut!" yelled the director.
I yanked my headphones down around my neck and lowered the boom, finally relaxing my arms. The director approached me.
"How'd it sound?"
"Pretty good, but I think we'd be safe with at least one more take." I replied.
"Reset!" the director shouted.
In reality, I had forgotten to hit record on the audio recorder that hung from my belt. To be honest, I didn't even want to run sound. I specifically requested cinematographer. I only took one sound class the entire four years I was in school. It didn't seem fair. But "Fuck it," I thought, "no one's going to see this film anyway."
---
This is my first time participating in /r/WritingPrompts, hope you enjoy my contribution! | 2017-08-10T05:15:48 | 2017-08-10T05:09:53 | 67 | 43 |
[WP] You have a very unique superpower - you're everybody's friend. With a few words or a handshake, you can convince anybody that you've known each other for years, even if you've never seen them before. How you decide to use this power is entirely up to you... | "...and so the duck says: 'just put it on my bill!'"
High-pitched laughter filled the usually gloomy, dreary room with happiness. "That was a good one!" The girl hadn't a reason to smile for over two weeks.
"Oh, really? I thought it was one of my worse ones," said her visitor with a grin. "Say, you've got that TV, right? Did you catch the Spider-man marathon the other night?"
"Are you kidding? I had to, like, bargain with Ms. Sally to let me stay up to finish it!"
"Come on, she tried to get **you** to go to sleep at a reasonable hour? Has she **met** you?"
"I know, right? She normally doesn't, though," reassured the girl, "I think the nurses wanted me to get some actual legit sleep, since I just started treatment."
"Yeah, you're probably right. How is the treatment, by the way?"
"Ugh. You know how Deadpool-"
A gasp cut the patient off. "What?! You are FAR too young to know about Deadpool!"
"Shut up, let me finish, you geezer," the girl said with a giggle. "Anyway, like I was saying, the treatment totally feels like if I was Deadpool and got experimented on, only I don't get to have cool mutant powers when I'm done."
"Yeah, but you do get to be, oh, I dunno, healthy?"
The girl delivered a look that said 'oh, shut up.'
"Plus, there's no way you could look as bad as he does at the end of his treatment. Well, at least not any worse than you do now..."
"Hey!" The girl protested, though she knew it was a joke. The visitor smiled. The girl continued. "You better make up for that one!"
"Funny you should say that, I actually brought something for you."
"Whaaat? What is it? Gimme gimme." Said the girl, leaning up.
"Ask politely and maybe you'll see."
"Okay, **please** gimme gimme." Responded the girl with a slight smirk.
"I swear... okay, hold our your hands and close your eyes," instructed the visitor as they rummaged through their bag to find the gift.
The girl did as she was told. The adult gently laid down a thin, colored, worn book into the outstretched hands.
"Okay, open your eyes."
The girl opened her eyes. "No way!! 'She-Hulk' number three?! Featuring Spider-man?" She was ecstatic. "This one is **ancient**! How'd you get it? How'd you know I would totally love it?"
"I have my ways. And, I know you, dummy. She's your absolute favorite."
The girl sat up further and reached to give a hug. "Thank you so much."
"No problem, kiddo." The hug was returned with gentle pats on the girls back. "I gotta head out now, though."
"Sweet- I mean, uhh... darn? Now I'm gonna be, like, ultra-bored again." The girl poked fun, as she knew it would be well received.
"Uh huh, sounds about right." The visitor stood. "Well, I'll see you soon!" Grabbing their bag, they began to head out of the tiny room towards the door.
"See ya!"
The visitor opened the door, and had stepped halfway through it when the girl called.
"Hey!"
"Yeah, what is it?" The visitor asked with a turn.
"You might be old, but you're totally cool. You're my hero more than the Sensational She-Hulk ever will be." The girl looked down as she said it, gesturing to the comic book.
"Thanks, kid, but you're far stronger than I. I'm the one who looks up to you," the adult said with a smile. "Enjoy the book."
"Will do!"
And with that, the door was shut behind the visitor. A contented smile on their face, they strolled over to the next door down from the girl's, labeled '235,' and knocked. "Yo, Chuck, it's me."
"Come on in!" Replied a young boy's voice, muffled by the stark hospital door.
EDIT: forgot a quotation mark. | Day 17
“Still missing” The title was screaming of the front page. I quickly scanned the news article, hoping I would find something else this time.
“Our dearest friend...”
“...never met someone this nice…”
“...an instant match.”
The terms got scarier every day, it already sounded like I was long dead and it hadn’t even been a week since I got away.
I froze when I heard a sound behind me. I turned around slowly. Please, let it be the wind or something. Anything, just as long as nobody saw me. There was nothing. Thank god. I let out my breath, only now realizing I hadn't done that.
I then grabbed the newspaper and put it in the bag with the other supplies I had just… well, stolen. Yes, I had stolen the things I needed. I felt bad about, but there were simply no other options. I got out of the shop, the same way I had come in. Through the door... of which I had picked the lock. That had been way easier than I had thought it would be. The street was still dark, there were no people. Considering it was almost 6 o’clock in the morning, and this was some small village in the middle of nowhere, that wasn’t a surprise. I tried speed walking on the sidewalk to exit the village without looking suspicious, then realized I looked stupid instead. So I sprinted the next miles to the cabin.
I had found the cabin two days ago. It was an old wooden thing quite deep into the forest that no one seemed to care about. So it was the perfect place for me to hide out. I had left my home the fourth day after the big event. No idea what the event was, but suddenly some people started getting powers. I thought it was cool at first and I was disappointed I hadn’t gained any powers. Until I noticed how the weirdest people started to check in on me. First, it was that horrible guy from work, who just called to have a nice conversation. That was weird, but when that cab driver came to my door and walked in like we knew each other for years, I wasn’t too sure it was a coincidence. That night I got calls from ten different people, just to make conversation. Like I ever talk to someone like that. The next day I missed a few calls because my phone had died. A few hours later, the police stood at my door asking what had happened. That same night I left my house and went to the woods and found an abandoned holiday home. I stayed there for more than a week, then I met someone.
The first thing I did when I got to the cabin was to check if it still was abandoned. I was only gone for about half an hour, but I couldn’t take risks. Of course, there was no one so I got my stuff inside and put it away. I did leave it in the bag, so I could grab it in case I had to leave in a hurry. I then went outside. That was my mistake.
I froze when I saw the man. Not knowing how to hide, I just stood there. The bushes were quite big between us so I hoped for the best and got down on my knees behind them. Maybe it was just an early bird taking his daily walk not noticing anything. But then I heard his voice and his footsteps changed direction. Oh, fuck no. Too late. He had already seen me. There was no time to lose, I need to get out now. I turned around and started running.
“Hey buddy, wait up!”
It already sounded like he knew me, but that could also just be the fear messing with my brain. I didn’t want to take the risk to find out. The bushes were getting denser, as I ran further away from the man, whose screams were now barely audible. I slowed down, thinking the distance was big enough at this point. Still, I had to get a lot further. Even if my power hadn’t worked on the man already, he would probably still see the news and figure out who I was. Within 24 hours, the forest would be crowded by desperate people, the police, and whoever I had triggered for the past few weeks.
I finally just stopped to catch my breath. While I was breathing heavily I noticed I had cut my legs in at least six different places. One cut on my right leg was extremely bad as I now started to feel the pain the adrenaline had reduced before. The leg was smeared with blood, and a small stream had even gotten into my shoes, which were soaked with mud.
Perfect, now I had to get bandages as well. I needed to get new supplies anyway, I couldn’t go back to get my stuff, and I had just brought all the new things from the stores inside the cabin. Hell, now I had to find a new place to hide and new supplies.
I slowly bend my knees and finally sat down, my arms around my legs. This was just the worst. They call it superpowers, but seriously, no. These aren’t superpowers, they are curses.
| 2017-08-12T12:26:57 | 2017-08-12T12:14:02 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] Upon death you go to hell and find that it's actually run by a council of the worst people in history, with Satan as the head of it. They invite you to the council, but you honestly have no clue why. | "I'm sorry, *wot?*" The woman squawked.
The room stirred then settled, the slight man at the head of the table smiling wickedly. "I said, we'd like you to join us. Not many people have the capacity for such thoughtless evil. You'll fit right in!"
"But- I'm a good person! I'm vegan! I drive an electric car! *For the love of God, I don't even use soap to wash because it poisons the water.*"
"Well, that's all fine and *good*"-a groan arose from Mao over the atrocious pun- "but that doesn't change the fact that you, single handed, have managed to bring humanity to it's knees. You have, by your own deeds, planted the seed of humanities destruction. You created a plague the likes of which has never been seen on mortal soil."
"What!? But- you must have the wrong woman! I'm not- I don't support biowarfare! I didn't even go to college! *How could I have created a plague?!*"
"Why Silvia..." he said, and the faces of the other men grinned wickedly. Stalin, Hitler, Mao, *Steve Jobbs?*
"You didn't vaccinate your daughter." | A flash of blinding light invades my eyes as my life slips away. I open my eyes to find myself sitting on a chair in a dark room, not unlike the Supreme Court chambers. The room seemed to be carved from stone and stifling hot. Perhaps we were under ground or in a cave. As my eyes adjusted I began to look around. Seated behind a high bench was a collection of the meanest looking persons I had ever laid eyes on. Among them was a man with a little mustache, a man in a white turban with a bushy beard, two teenagers dressed in black overcoats, and a cold sneering face with high cheekbones, much resembling a vampire.
This man was preoccupied with something happening underneath his desk and the seat next to him was empty. A thunderous gavel bang prompted commotion from under the shallow faced man’s desk as a fat orange man with bad hair scrambled up into his seat, wiping the spittle from his mouth and yelling, “Everything’s great! We’re all good! You’re gonna be so happy!”
“Yes I’m sure we’ll all be as happy as Mr. Putin one day Donald, but for now can you shut the fuck up and let me do my job,” said the large beast holding the gavel, a visibly annoyed expression plastered across his red face.
“Welcome to the Council of Dicks,” the monster says, turning to face me, “We’ve been expecting you.”
“What is this place? And who are you?” I ask in a quivering voice.
“Why I thought my horns would be explanation enough! I’m Satan, and you’re in hell.”
“That’s impossible!” I exclaim, “I went to church every Sunday!”
“Even so, a life of crime does not allow a man to be exonerated by a routine,” he explains.
“That’s bullshit!”
“So is thievery,” Satan says smiling, a small plastic cup filled with soda in his hands. “These are meant for water, you know.” | 2017-10-01T20:44:29 | 2017-10-01T18:26:07 | 74 | 23 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | “I’m sorry” he said softly, as if saying it too loudly would add to his guilt. “I’m sorry.”
He continued to look out the window, at the world around carrying on as if nothing had happened. The world that most certainly had not ended when they were told it would. The world that didn’t even seem to care about just how bad he felt now that he had to face the consequence of his actions.
Then again she didn’t seem to care either. He tried to act like it was no big deal…but to her, it was. He tried to make amends. He apologized, tried distracting her, tried reaching out to her. She simply moved away. She would have none of it; he’d let her down.
Now she sat there. On the other end of the couch, silently, no longer even bothering to look at him with that hurt gaze. She rose, stretched, and for one brief hopeful moment he thought she would come to him and let him know he was forgiven. Instead, she left the room…
… And on her way to the litter box walked right past the food bowl that had the grievous empty shiny spot in the middle this morning.
| "The crisis is averted. I repeat, the crisis is averted. The asteroid is no longer on a collision course towards Earth. Stay tuned for an interview with the NASA scientists who rerouted it."
I stare at the TV and hug my kids. Tears flow from my eyes as I feel their tiny hands wrapped around me. Thank God. I kiss their pale little foreheads and send them away to play.
I feel as if I am coming back to life. I had spent the last 12 hours in the same position, watching the television and comforting my kids. Accepting my death. It is only now that I realize how glad I am to be alive. How much there is that I haven't done.
My mind wanders. What if I didn't have kids? No responsibility...nothing to stop me from doing what I wanted? What would I have done?
I wander outside. My breath catches in my throat. It's like a wasteland out here.
The Webter's house has all its windows broken. Their shed is on fire. A dog limps by, and I notice with interest that his left hind leg has been messily chopped off. Most intriguing, though, are the Bakers.
Tom Baker lies in a bloody heap, stab wounds littering his body. Next to him, sobbing hysterically, is his wife, holding a kitchen knife and covered in her husband's blood. I shiver with excitement.
As I gaze upon this massacre, I feel red hot jealousy growing inside me. This is what I missed. The feeling of flesh yielding under my fingers, of warm blood trickling across my hands...
I turn back to my house, and my rage builds. It's their fault. Their fault that I missed this.
Did I miss it?
I walk slowly inside. Call my children to me. I don't grab a knife. I don't need one. My hands will do.
I wonder if Mrs. Baker can hear their screams. | 2017-11-29T06:57:27 | 2017-11-29T06:47:31 | 207 | 54 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | Little Bethany Mariah Smith clung on to Father's legs. She hated going to meeting -- all the big scary grownups with their blanket clothes seemed to be just waiting for her to mess up, and Mother always spent ages talking to Sister Ruthie and Sister Tamar.
She was pretty sure -- really sure, actually -- that they had been having meeting more and more. Didn't they come yesterday? Today was not a Sunday or a Wednesday, either -- something weird was definitely going on.
Father Obadiah greeted her father. "Come, Brother Elisha, right this way."
"When will we be taking our...refreshments?"
"In just a minute. Sister Hannah will bring some over for you and your family."
They sat down, Mother, Father, Jebediah and Bethany, all in a row on the folding chairs. Sister Hannah came over holding a tray.
"Here, Brother Elisha -- Sister Sarai -- and of course, you, Jebediah and Bethany."
"What is it?" asked Bethany.
"It's a special treat for today. But don't drink it yet -- we're all going to drink together. It's a special soda."
Bethany held the cup in her little hands. It smelled funny, but Sister Hannah said it was soda, so it probably tasted really good. She looked up again.
"Why are we drinking it now?"
Sister Hannah paused. "Because... Because God is going to send his divine justice today, and if we want to get into heaven, we have to meet Him before then."
"What's divy jussis?"
"Umm... It's when God gives naughty people a spanking."
Bethany took this in. Before she could ask any more questions, however, Father Obadiah stood up at the big table. The humongous crowd of people at the meeting -- Bethany had never seen so many -- all went quiet.
"Brothers, Sisters. Today is the Last Day, the day of Divine Judgement. Behold, he sends his messenger from the sky, and the unrighteous shall be cleansed from the earth. Let us therefore drink this cup that we have been given and be thankful -- for indeed we are called to be His children. Amen."
All at once around her, people were drinking the special soda. Father, Mother... Even Jebediah, who usually hated doing things like this.
She looked at hers again. It still smelled funny. She didn't like drinking things that smelled funny. She swilled it around in the cup, spilling a little.
Suddenly, Jebediah fell off his chair and started making funny little movements. Bethany laughed, thinking he was playing a joke, but then he stopped moving. That wasn't right was it? Then Mother fell down too -- then Father. All around her, people were falling over. She felt scared.
On the wall behind the big table was a screen, flashing numbers. She was learning numbers with Mother. Four, three, two, one. Then nothing.
She looked around. Everyone was lying on the floor, even Father Obadiah. She saw Sister Hannah lying on top of three or four other people.
For a long time, she sat quietly on her chair with her drink, waiting for someone to get up again and tell her what a good girl she was for waiting, but at last she could stand it no longer. She was getting bored of this -- it was probably some really bad joke they were playing. So, leaving her special drink on her chair, she went to go play outside. | Jenna had a taste for blood, which was something she tried to hide until now. Her boyfriend Todd always thought she was a bit odd, and was shocked when she asked him to help her. “But we are only going after the bad guys, ya know the ones who hurt children and those who deserve it” she tried to justify her actions. Todd was a little bit thrown off but he could try to understand, because he loved Jenna immensely. “Just do it with me once and see how you feel.”
So they set off to find the perfect kill. 36 year old Alexander Stone. He was the perfect candidate; sent to jail on multiple occasions for child endangerment, molestation, and attempted murder. Somehow, one of the officers messed up the case work and he got off with probation. “Someone needs to teach these guys a lesson, and it might as well be us” Jenna scoffed.
They tracked down his address, followed his schedule, found out when he had his kids, etc. so nobody would be around to witness it. All went according to plan. They packed a rope, duct tape, knife, pliers, bolt cutters and a gun, just in case things went awry.
Around 9:30 on Halloween night, they snuck around his house, waiting for him to go to sleep. He was passed out in the living room chair with a bottle of booze in his hand. “Just remember he deserves whatever happens to him.”
Alexander awoke gagged and bound to the chair, half mutilated. He starts screaming but nobody can hear him. “Alright let’s make this quick and try not to wake up the neighbors.” Todd was nervous, his hands shaking, barely able to hold onto the bolt cutters. “Just give me those and let me finish him off!” Jenna shouted in disappointment at her pathetic boyfriend. She made the final cut and let him bleed out slowly, watching the life drain from his eyes.
After the deed was done, they heard the front door handle jiggle. “Nobody is supposed to be here for another few days! Todd what are you doing, aim the gun and shoot, we can’t get caught!” Jenna shouted. Todd shot a few rounds and then there was silence.
“No no no no noooo! What did you do!” Jenna screamed. “I-I- it was an accident! You told me to shoot whoever entered!” Todd cried. The front door lay opened to Alexander’s 12 year old son and ex wife lying on the front step. They forgot it was Halloween night, and Alexander’s son stopped by to surprise him with his costume and candy “We are only supposed to go after the bad guys! I knew I should have never brought you along, I should have done this myself!” In shock, Todd starts weeping, while Jenna drags the bodies into the house. “It’s time to leave, just try to forget this whole thing!”
But Todd couldn’t forget and it soon started eating him alive. He started distancing himself from Jenna, realizing she had no real emotions toward anything. “How could I have been such a fool? She only wanted me to be involved in her little game, she never cared about me.”
Jenna found Todd the next day, hanging in the garage with a suicide note, explaining everything they had done. Jenna called the police shortly after she arrived at Todd’s house. When the police arrived, they found him hanging with a note on the floor saying “I no longer belong here, as much as I have tried I can’t hide from my demons any longer” Jenna forged Todd’s handwriting on the note, and stuck the original in her back pocket. She cried and acted in shock of what happened as the police questioned her. “How could he do this, we were planning a life together!”
As soon as she got in her car to leave, her phone started ringing. “Hey John, yes we’re still on for today. Have you tracked him down yet? Alright I’ll be there as soon as I’m done packing the bag. I love you too, and I’m so glad you want to do this with me. Someone needs to teach these guys a lesson and it might as well be us. Just remember, he deserves whatever happens to him.” | 2017-11-29T09:55:43 | 2017-11-29T08:11:25 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] Humanity finally figures out faster than light travel and discover that they are completely average by galactic standard, except for one thing, our innate ability to bullshit our way out of any situation. | "So," the General asked, "What you're saying is that humans are *not* distinguished by our superior talent for battle?"
"No, sir. We've been over this."
"Are you quite sure? It's been my understanding that our willingness to kill each other and our fearlessness in combat make us the scourge of the galaxy, spoken of only in whispers by--"
"Your understanding? It's *been*...? What does that even... I'm delivering news of the first Galactic Conference to you. Who could have possibly told you this, this asinine story?"
"I just assumed, given our bulldog-like tenacity and strategic mindset--"
"Sir, our research is hardly complete, but it seems quite evident that humans are less apt for strategic thinking than most of the Conference-attending species, of which several possess higher-order intelligences or are capable of seeing some distance into what we understand as the future; and we are physically weaker, slower, less resilient, and less technologically advanced than any other sentient beings. From what we can tell, humans are distinguished primarily for being, in the eyes of the Galaxy, dumb, selfish, and cowardly."
"Which means we're able to outmaneuver most of these alien creeps, right? We're cowards, but in the smart, tactical way. One-on-one we might not be a match for an alien, but that's why they say, *Make an enemy of a human, and you've made the deadliest enemy in the universe.*"
"You... that... *who*...?"
The General smiled hopefully. The Ambassador sighed.
"Actually, there does appear to be a recently coined saying about humankind, but it's more along the lines of *Put a human in a room alone and it will invent an imaginary enemy, pick a fight with it, and somehow manage to lose.*"
The General pondered this for a moment, his eyes narrowed, chin perched thoughtfully atop his fist. "True, we are the most warlike of beings... we carry battle in our blood. A great cross to bear. Yet, with great power comes great responsibility."
As the General wandered off, lost in thought, the Ambassador sighed again, in mingled relief and embarrassment--relief that the conversation was over, and embarrassment at the thought of this man engaging with the Xyth'lian delegate scheduled to attend the following local summit on Mars. The Xyth'lian had their own variation on that saying: *Wherever they go, humans convince themselves they're better than everyone else, even after losing a fight they picked with a small child over something only an idiot would care about.*
Apparently it flowed better in the original language. | "all systems go." the voice rang in commander Viatorem's helmet.
"Roger", replied Viatorem grinning like a kid on the highest point of a roller coaster" That's one small step for_" "cut, the bullshit and focus." the voice cut him off.
" keep an eye on those instruments and course correct as necessary. one screw up and we'll be cleaning what's left of you out of that cockpit with a shop-vac." Viatorem cleared his throat and swallowed his excitement. Returning to a more professional tone he blurted out hurridly "Roger that control, we're on task and on mission waiting for countdown." Control returned "Roger that, ready for launch in 10,9, 8, 7,6,5 ,4,3,2,1....ignition."
The small windows outside of the capsule seemed to erupt in a blinding white light. Before long Viatorem could make out what looked like the night's sky with white and blue streaks of light streaming by like snowflakes against a windshield that he could only assume were stars. Despite the ungodly speed, he knew he had achieved, he felt no inertia in the cockpit at all. It was as if he had been sitting behind a desk playing some video game. He starred out the window and back at the instruments then out the window again. balancing his duties of collecting data and monitoring hull integrity with wide-eyed grins out the porthole as though he were a child admiring a puppy through a shop window. And then there was a short and anticlimactic sound of, "pop"!
Everything had stopped. The instruments outputted nothing. Nothing was damaged. It was just off. Everything was turned off. No energy output to the engines. No navigation. No communications. No life support."NO LIFE SUPPORT!? WHAT THE HELL AM I BREATHING?" croaked Viatorem. In his panic, he looked back out the window. Was it green? He could see the star. But they were stationary behind what looked like green stained glass.
His panic was amplified as the cockpit lifted open to reveal an enormous green, tentacle-faced monster. Viatorem was dumbstruck, frozen into his seat and gripping the armrests for dear life. The creature began to click and hiss. It appeared to be trying to communicate. Viatorem had special training for situations like this but it all had gone out the window now that he was looking into those solid red and empty eyes. "um..we...come..in ...p-peace?"
The monster clicked and hissed loudly and irritably. Viatorem thought that his knuckles would burst through the flesh of his hands if he gripped the armrests any tighter. The creature lifted one long scaly three-fingered hand to its chest and began adjusting the knob of some device located there. And then it said in a cracked static haze from a speaker on the device. "licencia y registro por favor mi amigo."
Viatorem's jaw hit the floor. It spoke Spanish. Was he in space Mexico? Was there a space Mexico? were space Mexican's green?
The creature irritably reached up and smacked the device on his chest. the voice changed to English now. "license and registration, please."
please upvote if you'ld like me to continue.
| 2018-01-30T06:56:55 | 2018-01-30T05:27:51 | 164 | 90 |
[WP]Everyone can bend a single element just like in avatar.However these are actual elements like Argon.Most powerful individuals bend metals or flammable materials.But not you you bend carbon.You bend the carbon in people’s bodies. | Everyone thinks carbon makes up everything organic. And it does. Just not in the way people expect.
Take DNA, a repeating sequence of sugars, nitrogen bases and phosphate. All three components contain carbon. But none of them are specifically carbon. Proteins, made of amino acids. Again, lot of carbon there. But also, hydrogen, nitrogen, the occasional sulphur atom. That kind of thing. It makes my work harder than needed. And it is needed now.
Throw me in a coal mine and I can empty it out in a few days. Cheap, easy, pays well. I can make a diamond the size of a football in a few weeks. Wrecked that particular market in about 6 months, but I still made my profit. Steel, depending on the carbon concentration, can be manipulated. Bringing down that bridge and blaming it on the iron bender was almost inspired. I killed 18 people with a pencil once. While tied to a ceiling. I’m a little proud of that one.
But this? This is beyond even my talents. Breaking the body is easy. Just start making things spin around in there and the bones crack, cells burst and the brain is mush in about half a second. Fixing it is going to be harder. Altering every torn neurone, changing the DNA so the toxic protein stops being made, sheltering the remaining 30% of my functional brain, all while my hands are shaking and my moods and thoughts drift along like so many leaves in a river. I’ve called in favours. Numbers 1 and 16 and 14 have offered to help. Even 207 has offered a cease fire while this is fixed. She values the sport too much I think. I have abound a year before the Huntington’s takes me. Once I fix that, I think I’ll move on to ageing. Too many things need changing for just one lifetime. | Flight was the tricky part.
Bending always took at least some focus. It may have felt like a natural extension, but just like an arm or leg, anything complicated took focus.
Flight, however, was outrageously hard. Oh, not for everyone: People who could bend oxygen had it easy. They could ensure that oxygen still made it into their cells while flying at speed, and to be fair the body is 60% oxygen.
Carbon didn't have that advantage. As schools rigorously taught, the human body is only 18% carbon. Moving a person using 18% of their mass was harder than using 60% of it.
But, there were advantages to controlling carbon.
In warfare, carbon benders were unrivaled. Sure, we couldn't deploy as easily or quickly, but a few oxygen benders could easily solve that. Meanwhile, we had supreme attack and defense. Discrete layers of diamond skin made most melee and small arms weapons pointless. Flicking diamond chips was so much more effective than a gun \- I even had a trick where I made a diamond arrow that followed an impossible flight path. I could still sense where people were, and 'convincing' bullets to combust early wasn't that hard, either.
Thankfully, after two years of mandatory military service, I had not needed to use these skills in any way that would scar me.
In peace, we were not quite so lucky. We made serviceable jewelers, and certainly could help with other things, but there were others with far more luck. Silicon and gold benders usually became electronics gurus. After all, when you can line pairs of gold atoms up precisely, you beat any electron beam lithography. 14 nanometers? Wasteful.
Oddly enough, our saving graces were typically steel, wood and plastic. Sure, we would need to learn to work as a team with others \- most plastics had carbon, hydrogen and a third element, like nitrogen or chloride \- but with practice, we could build economical, durable materials. Even better, we could also lay claim to helping to end war \- with little effort, all plastics were recyclable, reducing oil needs greatly. Oh sure, making plastic clamshell containers wasn't sexy \- but it was useful work.
Though, every once in a while, right before something left the factory, I did enjoy changing the packaging's outer layer to diamond. Gotta keep those skills fresh. | 2018-05-08T05:56:14 | 2018-05-08T05:48:42 | 406 | 176 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | (On mobile, sorry if formatting is wonky)
Total War. Rakleth pondered this new term. Was not war always in totality? To crush the enemy's military underfoot and seize their civilian population and worlds for your own use? The humans, negotiators and pacifists, had such strange terms. Rakleth scratched his carapace in thought.
The humans had been deceptive, their past never divulged to the other races of the conglomerate. For centuries now they have supported the fragile peace of so many species. Thus we assumed they would be unprepared, their people and resources ripe for the taking. How right we were, we seized an entire system of theirs in mere hours, acquiring countless slaves and endless amounts of precious iron.
Rakleth had studied their habits, their culture, their entire written history. Only twice was this "total war" mentioned, with an uncanny reverence and little detail. Suffice it to say, Rakleth was surprised when he learned of its meaning.
Human technology was not particularly advanced, but they did not lag behind in any great way. Their ships and worlds were undefended, a result of their great success at peddling their peace.
Weeks after their defeat, they retaliated. It was expected for them to lash out weakly, seeking revenge with an unknown fury in their blood bladders. So we thought, and so we were the ones unprepared for the utter hell that found us.
They had amassed their old technology, they had defeated our armies. They did not take our iron, nor our people as slaves. They had burned them all, a nuclear cleansing of drastic proportions. Where once great hives had stood, there was only smoldering glass. Soldiers, civilians, hatchlings, politicians, atomized in an instant; without hesitation. They cared not for slaves, or our iron, or even our planets. They sought utter destruction as recompense for our sins.
Rakleth let his mandibles hang, he was tired... So tired. Total war, a war with no boundaries, no survivors. There was something to learn from this, not for his species, but others. The humans worked so hard for peace not due to their weakness, but because they had seen the alternative. They saw the all-engulfing darkness within them, and were horrified. It was not to benefit themselves, but the rest of us.
Rakleth clicked his mandibles shut, sending his message to every star in the sky. May everyone learn of this new term, and may they fear it to their core. Rakleth looked across the smoldering plain that had been his home one last time. Then he, the last, joined his kind in cold slumber.
Edit: Thank you for the silver, stranger. | "Rules for war?" The answer was slow and methodical as the general stood on the bridge. His scaled skin shuddering in disgust. "War has no rules. Perhaps it is time we show these humans just what a superior race looks like. Yes, We shall enslave them."
​
Invasion Day 1 Hour 1
The humans fell in droves, many fell to the initial bombardment. Our translators say we are in an area called Manhattan. Humans are a fairly frail species similar to our own. Granted we took losses but, what was a dozen of my men to the 100 humans that they slaughtered and, the thousands that fled. I admire the weaponry primitive as it may be it's effective simple ruthless kinetic projectiles but, these will easily be avoided.
​
Day 1 hour 2
It seems the humans have warriors of their own. Men mounted on great beasts wielding brutal clubs in blue uniforms proudly charging into the battle to safe others of their species. These men with them bring friends in dark uniforms wearing some form of armor that has made many of our kinetic weapons less effective. Our hand weapons fair a little better but, the humans in this second wave are stronger. Scattered voices speak of NYPD but, we know not what this is. Anytime this is mentioned the men on great beasts show up. The frailer individuals of the species are protected by these warriors and, rushed out of the battlefield. The humans have lost many warriors protecting these smaller individuals. We must leverage this to our advantage. Of our initial 300 troops I am allotting 700 more with which to fight along with aircraft.
​
Day 1 hour 6
These initial Warriors were nothing compared to a much more advanced class of warriors that has just arrived. Something the Primitive human tribes refer to as Marines. These brutes tower over their brethren wearing a cloth that makes them harder to find. Their voices boom over the sound of the primitive weapons they carry and, they ferociously charge, wielding daggers on the end of their kinetic weapons. Our aircraft were briefly effective until the Marines own aircraft showed up. We have suffered 98% loss throughout our fleet. In 20 more hours our own fleets will arrive bringing reinforcements. I must take to the battlefield personally to lead the 300 remaining members of my army.
​
Day 2 hour 5
The humans have won. Today I signed a document stating that me or my species shall never attack earth again. Our fleets arrived but as reinforcements touched down the ships were destroyed one by one. We have lost 10,000 brave warriors. I myself have only survived because one of the warriors forced me to yield after disarming and, injuring me. However, he did not kill me even though he had ample opportunity, instead he restrained my limbs. They broadcast over great projectors that I had been captured and, my own warriors threw down arms rather then face defeat. These humans they negotiate for survival because that is the only way in which their species will survive. They are among the most brutal and, savage races in the galaxy. For all reading this do not engage in war with them you might gain an early victory but, you will lose a war with them. I fear that by invading them we have given them access to the stars as they reverse our own technology. The one called Musk took great interest in our engines. All species run if we wish to survive. | 2018-12-14T22:13:23 | 2018-12-14T16:40:15 | 820 | 214 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | We, the Taithians, bore witness to the greatest power shift in galactic history. For thousands of years we've been at war with the Vinari, a war like species that believes they are the superior race in the galaxy. They eradicate all other sentient beings, regardless of their technological level. The Vinari are fearless, and ruthless. Or, they were.
In galactic year 14b.1201 they came across a curious species from a remote part of the galaxy called humans. At the time, these humans had only colonized a few stars in their region, and had no military presence to speak of. They claimed they were peaceful explorers and wanted to be friends.
The Vinari did what the Vinari do, and wiped out the most remote colony with ease. The humans quickly sent envoys out to the stars, seeking allies, finding none that were willing to expend additional resources defending such an underdeveloped species.
The galaxy soon realized they had made a grave error.
The second human colony fell, this time with more resistance than the first. Despite the technological differences, the Vinari took heavy losses. Undeterred, the Vinari continued their March across the stars, albeit at a slower pace.
This whole time the humans tried in vain to gain allies, support from other species. It never came, and how I wish it did. This is the transmission the humans sent just before they unleashed their might:
"Beings of the galaxy, we are a species called humans, from the planet Earth. Our colonies have been under attack from the Vinari, and we have tried reaching out for support, and to pursue peace. We have been rebuffed at every opportunity, and will not stand for it any longer. Today, we declare Total War on the Vinari. We will eradicate them from the galaxy and claim their territory for our own. If you stand in our way, you will suffer the same fate. You have been warned."
I was but a chitlin when they made this declaration, and even then it sent shivers through my nervous system. It still does to this day.
The galaxy didn't understand what the humans meant by total war. War was war, we all waged it to survive. Soon we found the truth was worse than we ever imagined.
Humans reveled in war, their history was rife with it. They pursued peace and assistance at every chance because they knew... They knew what real war was. They set it aside to survive... But now they unleashed it on the galaxy for the very same reason.
The next colony the Vinari attacked was stopped cold. A first in their long history. Rapidity in which the humans scaled their military might was frightening. Their economy, politics, everything turned and geared for war.
Soon, the humans reclaimed their colonies. The Vinari couldn't stop them. Then the humans pushed beyond their borders into Vinari territory. There were no survivors. The humans employed technology that other species only dreamed of. But that's not what scared the rest of us. Humans had a cleverness we still don't understand, they used unorthodox thinking coupled with their fearsome technology.
And in the span of a few galactic standard years (25 in human terms), the Vinari were no more. As promised, the humans erased them from the galaxy. Once their enemy was no more, they turned their fearsome sights on us. We all feared the worst.
Instead, the humans brought us all together to form a galactic government. Every species got to keep their territory so long as they abided by the laws. Having witnessed how fearsome the humans fought, we were all too happy to comply.
We all comply and behave, because we don't want to end up like the Vinari.
Edit: e then I, I then e, fixed a few times.
Edit 2: my first silver! Thank you kind stranger, I'm glad you enjoyed this enough to gild it! | "The Federation does not recognize the authority of the Alliance." A cold voice replied.
For over three thousand years, the humans had been the negotiators, traders, engineers, eager to learn and eager to give. They had integrated into the rest of the galaxy with little trouble, and their sleek, elegant ships, painted with red crosses, were a sight of mercy and aid in many places.
Few attacked these ships. Those who did, over the centuries, had learned that humans took these losses without anger or hatred, merely a look in their eyes that could be identified as sorrow. And the rest of the galaxy would rise up to defend the humans, weak and defenseless, having never developed powerful offensive weapons technologies. Though, curiously, their civilian ships were as well-defended as their military ships.
We've never been to their homeland. Even the Time Lords and the Bothans, ever explorers, scholars, and infiltrators, have never been to their homeworld regions. There were rumors that it is a beautiful paradise of endless bounty, or a repository of great technology.
How wrong we were.
The ruling Alliance of human worlds notified us three orbits ago that a large faction of their race broke off. On the other side of their homeworld, a group of humans had allied with the Shadow, seized its hive mind, and bent it to their will. They were called the Federation, and they were armed, dangerous, and a threat capable of toppling the entire galaxy in a single blow.
The members of the High Council that ruled the galaxy at large had laughed. Humans don't even have the long khatep blades that most bipedal races use for close combat. Their ships are entirely unarmed. How could they possibly have the will, or the means, to enslave one of the most terrible and powerful hive-minds of the galaxy, and force it to conquer the stars for them?
​
We jumped through the recently opened human homeworlds, dumbfounded.
"Now you know." One of their captains said, waving her hand over the shattered Dyson sphere and choking star, the planets ruins, superweapons still sparkling with power after centuries of neglect.
"Once, before the High Council had even heard of us, before the Alliance was formed, we fought among ourselves."
We stood there, aghast. For a species to fight amongst itself was nigh unheard of; for them to obliterate their own homeworlds with such hatred was beyond barbaric.
"The two great nations of humanity, the Guiding Lights, and the Conquering Flames, named for their most powerful ship types, fought each other across the Home Region of humanity today."
"In that war, we scorched oceans and burnt atmospheres clean off planets. But our worst crime was the very enemy you will face today. The Von Neumann warhead known as the Shadow."
"It ate entire stars alive in its fury, and only by desperately building an enormous ring of star system fortresses could we finally destroy it. The cost was so high that we are but 1/5 of our original population, even after so many long years."
"It's why, for so long, we banned ourselves from waging war. The cost would be too terrible."
The High Council representatives aboard the ship responded as if beholding the very end of the universe. The view outside was a hellscape, known only in legends and archaeo-histories, when obscure enemies had fought across the galaxy in terrible conflicts. We now realized, that humanity had been among those combatants. And they were likely the winners, seeing as they are still here.
And so, at last, speeding beyond the ruins of the heart of humanity's civilization, we saw it. The true form of the Shadow, and the Federation that had seized it.
The star-sized superweapon was a cloud of nanobots, swarming around an enormous structure bristling with weapons. Ships bearing Alliance markings, hastily mounted with devastating weapons, or ancient derelicts resurrected from humanity's past, hurtled by in formations, desperately firing at it. Screams filled every comm, and explosions lit up the darkness.
We aren't ready for this. Not this.
The steel in the voice of the Alliance representative rang, as she rallied the troops. The High Council commanders stared at each other, then ordered their forces to advance.
And so, on that day, we learnt a new human term. Total war.
​ | 2018-12-14T21:31:30 | 2018-12-14T19:06:09 | 337 | 162 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | There was once upon a time in my life where I saw hope
We’d try to send messages to each other, writing love notes on the mirror and hoping she sees it each time you stand in front of it.
I’ll never forget the time I finally caught a glimpse of her mirror love note back.
Her perfectly beach blonde hair wrapped around her shoulders, her gentle hum echoing in the tile-laden bathroom, and on the mirror was only two words, “Sydney, Australia” signed off with a deep-red lipstick heart.
I was 16, I had no money, my family was not among the lucky to match with their soulmates, and their lives suffered greatly for it.
But I was determined to break that curse.
And here I am, one hard-earned plane ticket later—staring at her fiancé, whose proposal was my last sixty second glimpse into her life. | "Please let me go." Tears are spilling from the corner of her eyes, running across her face, and dripping into her hair. "Why? Why are you doing this?" She struggles against the restraints that bind her to the table, her wrists raw from her continued efforts over the last few hours.
I say nothing. What would be the point in explaining the nature of a predator to a lamb? Just a distraction from the inevitable, serving nobody. Her fate had been set the moment I saw her in the bar.
My hands hover over the instrument table. When the time is right, I'll feel which knife wants to do the work.
"Please," she begged. "My family have money. If you let me go, they'll..."
Her words are cut short as she sees me pick up the knife. I bought this one on a trip to Japan. It's never chosen me before. This girl must be special.
Her screams fade away to gurgling.
*The fuck did I just see!!!? I'd seen through my soulmates' eyes before but it had always been ordinary visions: riding the subway, choosing veggies at the supermarket. This was... this was like nothing I've seen before.*
*With shaky hands I pick up my phone and find her name from my contacts list. I'm praying that I have a brain tumour and that was just an hallucination. "Come on Rachael, answer!" I mutter.*
*Voicemail.*
*I try again over and over but it's always the same. It's real.*
*My soul mate is a murderer (what does that say about me?) and my sister - my best friend - is gone.* | 2019-02-13T16:07:52 | 2019-02-13T15:56:56 | 390 | 236 |
[WP] A supervillain gets married, has kids, and retires. The hero doesn't know, and slowly goes insane without them | They say the best revenge is living well. I don't know about that; living well has been nice, but watching that shithead-with-good-publicity have a deliciously gradual breakdown has also been pretty damn good. My favorite part? The whole thing was facilitated by the forces of Law and Order he's always pretended to serve.
I mean, I know the Witness Protection program hasn't always been a fun (or even safe) ride for everyone who's gone into it. But for me? Absolutely fabulous. The FBI whisks me off to safety and anonymity, and from that nice cozy perch, I get to watch. And I didn't even have to do anything for the privilege. No hidden cameras, no spybots, no dopplegangers inserted in the personal staff he treats like chattel. Nope, he's hoist by his own publicity-hounding. The paparazzi record every scrumptious little detail, lovingly craft their own little catty commentaries, and broadcast them to the entire world.
I got to watch when he got shitfaced at his local bar and then crashed his stupid "supercar" into a freeway support at 3 am. Fortunately no one was killed, not that he'd care; for him, civilian deaths are just more grist for the publicity mill. And here's the thing; yeah, I was a thief. A criminal. That's not in dispute, it was all part of the plea bargain that got me into this nice little suburban bungalow. But I never killed anyone. And I never robbed anyone who couldn't afford it. But him? Man, the collateral damage alone, and the payoffs, and the "flings" with underage fans...I could go on. Probably I will. Expect a nice juicy tell-all at your local bookstore within the next eighteen months or so.
Oh, I know he's got his own memoirs out. Like five of them. All ghost-written, of course, probably by some poor desperate bastard doing it for "exposure" and overawed by celebrity. All totally sanitized. The scales are starting to tip, though, after the incident with the twelve-year-old and that railgun-on-a-leash he calls a grappling hook. That one I don't want to crow over, poor kid. Yeesh. He got reamed in the media for that one, and all the spin-doctoring consultants (and bribes, of course) in the world couldn't make it go away. Hopefully someone in the government will manage to find their eyesight and their spine at the same time and put the bastard away.
Or not. The really selfish part of me hopes he'll just have all his toys taken away and continues to deteriorate in the public eye. It's the most poetic justice I can imagine for him.
Anyway, I'm gonna go have a beer on the patio of my house out here in Undisclosed Suburb, then go have dinner with my husband and kid. John's been after me to quit checking the news all the time during meals.
But I just can't resist.
​
r/Magleby | The pint glass rattled against the bar top after her fist slammed against the varnished wood. The impact sent a wave of pain through her arm, up past her elbow, but she didn’t wince. Strength was not her power, but she has learned to have a high threshold.
Especially when her own stupidity was the root cause of it.
“One more beer. One more pitcher,” She slurred as she brought her sore hand back to her body.
“Not a chance,” The bartender glanced her way and continued to help other patrons.
“How many times have I saved your ass, Derrick?” Celeste pleaded.
She knew he was right, but she wasn’t ready to saunter out onto the streets yet. Out there meant being alone with herself, and facing the citizens of the city. Two things that had been harder for her to do with every passing day.
“Nope.” Derrick didn’t even look down her way that time. She was cut off for the night.
Celeste threw a wad of money on the bar top and walked out without another word. She would only draw attention sitting at the bar, and it would make her want to drink. Derrick didn’t deserve the damage her rage would be likely to cause as the night wore on. If she was honest, he didn’t deserve a lot of what she had put him through the last couple of years.
If only Shadow would show his face, she thought as she walked down the empty street. If he would just come out of hiding and reveal what his plans were, she would feel better. She had broken into every empty factory and safe house they had on file. They hadn’t found a trace of him anywhere.
The grapevine had gone stone cold silent as well. No one knew where he went. No one had finished him off or captured him, yet no one had seen him or heard what he was up to. Just the thought of what jacked up scheme he had in the works made her gut turn.
She hunched over next to an alley as her stomach continued to turn. It threatened to turn its contents right out of her if she didn’t slow down. She had walked through most of the city, lost in her thoughts.
Celeste couldn’t explain it but she had felt a bit hollow lately. Beer and company were the only things that got her through the nights. Her home was empty, echoing every noise she made. A small pinprick of regret tightened her chest at the thought; She had wanted a family. There had always been too much danger, and after her old fiance had been run out of the country…
Her heart had never recovered. And now her mind was going down the same road.
After her walk resumed, she found herself at the only other bar open this late. Her eyes looked up at the neon sign, letters blinking at odd intervals. She should go sleep off the night and get a head start on tomorrow. Any day now Shadow would make an appearance, and she would need a clear head to deal with him and keep her city safe.
Despite her clarity, her feet walked her inside the dingy dive bar. Her body slumped onto a stool, and her arms rested on the bar-top.
“Just a pint, please?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound drunk.
“Sure,” the bartender answered, giving her a snide smile as he pulled out the glass.
She could see him mocking her even as he served her. He looked at her, seeing only a washed up, useless, hag. A superhero that was circling the drain. Celeste clenched her first, wondering if she should finish her drink before punching him in the face.
Shadow wasn’t the only criminal she could deal with.
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-02-20T12:29:46 | 2019-02-20T12:23:26 | 427 | 71 |
[WP] You are a medical wonder due to the fact that you can regrow your organs. You became a donor and everyone thinks that you are a good person. What they do not know is that you can control every reciever whenever you like. | “Morals are not at issue,” you say, sitting in an overly lush office, the world’s second richest man across a desk of redwood. “The issue is one of control.”
“No, this is attempted blackmail. You are corrupt and foolish, and nothing else. I owe you nothing,” William responds.
Standing, you step behind the chair, running your hand across its top. “This chair is not corrupt. It sits slightly too low, making it hard to sit down in or get up from. And of course, being low means the sitter must look up to your throne. You want to put people at a disadvantage when they sit before you and even your furniture bends to your will,” you say. “But that doesn’t make the chair, or even you, corrupt or evil. It just makes you in control.”
“I’ve heard enough,” William answered. “Show Miss Smith out.”
“Not a good idea,” you say. “I doubt your heart could take me leaving on such bad terms.”
Regardless of you plea, two men, large and in black suits, materialize from the corners of the room and stand next to you. They do not touch you but their subtle movements, body language, and even facial expressions compel you towards the exit.
“You’re good,” you say to them, taking a step towards the door.
“Wait,” comes the gurgling sound from the man sitting on the throne. The large men immediately rush towards him, urgency in their movements but helplessness in their faces.
Turning, you pick up the chair, too small, too low, too far beneath you, and fling it aside.
“How?” Williams asks, breath returning to him. “You gave me a liver, not a heart.”
“Control is control. There is nothing else.”
“You are a monster,” William says, practically spitting the words.
“Dear William, we are going to do great things together. We will feed the starving. We will cloth the needy. We will provide shelter for the weary. You continue to bring morals into this discussion, so I ask you, am I the monster for making you realize your duty, or is it you for ignoring it for so long?” | Every one of them said it was a miracle...
And they were obviously wrong. Anyone with real intelligence would have realized just how ridiculous it was that an evolutionary step would take a human being so far in such a small amount of time. The ability to regrow any part of your body at will, providing that the body received the necessary nutrients to do so, was not something granted by god.
It had taken twenty-nine years of research and experimentation to achieve.
Byron Igliatti hadn't been the first test subject. That weighed on him. Forty-seven others had volunteered before him. Forty-seven others had died slow, agonizing deaths as the gene mods failed and their bodies were consumed with uncontrollable cancers. He felt them, every single soul that had given their life for the project. Every single one of them will to sacrifice everything for the plan.
He remembered all of them as he sat in the hospital bed watching C-Span.
It was interesting. He recognized most of the men on the television now: actors, spokesmen, congressmen, senators. They'd all come to him when their organs failed. He'd told them the price and they'd threatened him and blackmailed him and in four separate cases, straight-up kidnapped him.
They never succeeded, of course. In the end, they always did what he wanted. He was a part of them, now. His new genetics, his new humanity lived within them. The result of years of painful research and heroic sacrifices filled the blood of hundreds of rich and powerful individuals.
So Byron Igliatti watched from his hospital bed as the Senate moved to vote on the doomed Proposition 41-17 which had been put forth by congress to establish a true universal healthcare that helped the people and screwed over the medical insurance companies.
There was no way on God's green earth that it would ever pass. The House was much more progressive than the Senate. Senators were old money, old power, full of old morals that said the weak should die and the strong should inherit their wealth. A room of fat, pasty white men in suits that cost more than an entire family's yearly income stared blankly into the air while the proposition vote was called. Each of them poised to vote it down and move on to bigger, more profitable things.
Byron smiled at this. This wasn't God's green earth any longer.
He closed his eyes and felt the power in his blood. He sent out the call, a single message. One tiny bit of change that resonated through every cell that had been touched by the customized nanovirus he'd been subjected to in those tests. One by one he felt them call back. He felt the orders take hold. He felt the blood in those other bodies change into *his* blood. He felt it find the muscles it needed, the nerve endings to cluster around. It was nearly overwhelming.
Then eighty-seven hands and voices found themselves voting yes when they desperately wanted to say no. | 2019-06-13T06:55:18 | 2019-06-13T05:10:35 | 716 | 188 |
[WP]For hundreds of years your world has been under alien occupation. Your new job under your overlords is to scavenge ancient wreckage of your ancestors. One day you discover an ancient machine which upon activation shows a message. “Contact reestablished,Support will arrive soon.” | "I've activated protocol 597, we will send another signal when we're ready for you to return. Prepare until then, I've enabled the quantum anchor in bay 11 for you to lock on to."
*Understood. Syncing with bay 11, I will prepare.*
​
**ALERT INBOUND SIGNATURE DETEC...**
​
\*\*\*\*\*\*
​
The Talnyvans had been on a recycling kick recently, wanting to salvage all the old technology they said was "safe" to explore now. I think they just wanted to erase what few reminders we have left of our former civilization, purge our history fully. It's not like I had a choice anyways to be here. But to find something that still works? that I never expected. I was just poking at the console to see if I could remove the glass, it would have just weighed a lot without being worth anything.
`Contact Reestablished. Support will arrive soon.`
​
I just stared at it, dumbfounded.
​
`Incoming request from anchor 11. Severe degradation detected, maintenance required. Bandwidth available at 3%. Voice and text only. Accept?`
​
I just continued to stare at it for another minute before my thoughts were interrupted by the cheap communicator attached to my shirt, simple, but effective enough to get through the EM haze around the wreck.
​
"HC415, you have not moved for several minutes! Finish what you are doing or I'm marking this as your break! Do you understand?!"
I hastily press the button to respond. "Yes, I understand, sorry"
​
`Request accepted. Live feed enabled.`
​
*Greetings commander. I am preparing the fleet for spatial translation. What is your status?*
​
The voice was a pleasant masculine sound, but clearly artificial.
​
"Uhhh, what? Who are you? The computer?"
​
*I am an artifical node intelligence, code named KINGMAKER. My makers referred to me as Mac... I have received data that you are the interim commander as the ship has not been staffed in 341 years... that is unfortunate.*
​
"Uhhh... yeah the Talnyvans won, everyone died or is like me, just picking up scraps. I don't think you can do much as a broken ship."
​
*I should clarify, I am not located within your destroyed vessel. I am transmitting from another system. I was given advanced replication facilities and tasked with preparing for a reactivation signal. I have been preparing. My fleet stands by to liberate your world at your command.*
​
"Uhm, don't be offended, but... please don't do that, the Talnyvans have hundreds of warships, there's nothing you can do. You'll just get the rest of us killed."
​
*Then they should not be a significant obstacle. I have not been idle. I have constructed 79,248 capital warships, 518,433 Mid class vessels, and several million fighter drones. I have converted roughly 13% of the solid mass of this system, and several neighboring ones into a fleet, computational facilities, and battle operations centers. I have also constructed several dozen colony centers for refugees should they be needed.*
​
The numbers boggled the mind. they shouldn't even be possible. But something flared within me that I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.
​
"... How long will it take you to get here?"
​
*I am locked on to the quantum anchor we are using to communicate. I can perform spatial tunneling to your location with the improvements I've managed in roughly 11 standard earth minutes.*
​
It could be a trick. This whole thing could be a setup. I'll probably die horribly. But if there's a tiny chance... just one chance in an infinite universe...
​
"Do it."
​
*Engaging drives. I will see you soon commander. Stay safe.*
​
\----------
​
Edit: I wrote a part two and three. I think these links work?
Part Two: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor\_hundreds\_of\_years\_your\_world\_has\_been\_under/eul2w0u/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor_hundreds_of_years_your_world_has_been_under/eul2w0u/?context=3)
Part Three: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor\_hundreds\_of\_years\_your\_world\_has\_been\_under/eumhyn7/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor_hundreds_of_years_your_world_has_been_under/eumhyn7/?context=3) | Everyday was oppressive under the heat, the toil, and the “overlords”. We would work day in and day out. Our Gods, our saviors, promised everything we wanted to hear. They preached to us of the knowledge and mysteries that they had solved. How our overlords would show us “the way to enlightenment” if we just worked for them. By the long count it has been ages, our scholars gone, our culture built over. Only some of us retain a bit of the culture of our past.
They call me T’lok, it used to mean something but that has been lost us. We are merely the “sobrevivientes” forced to work for the overlords, nothing more than scavengers. Little more than rats. Some of these pale gods seem to care for us, but trust is no longer a part of our shared experience.
It wasn’t too long ago that I was relocated to a work camp, forced to dig in places that the pale gods did not want to go into. My brothers and sisters would carve the ground with tools searching for bits of metal for them to use. Such a lifeless thing created such a huge response for them. I could not understand the reaction, it did not foster life. To me it was just like pulling any other rock from the ground. It was too soft to make anything important out of it. They acted as if it was some sort of token that would change their lives, not ours. It was on one of those days, in the mines that forever changed me. Changed my impression of the overlords. And most importantly set us free.
While working deep in the mines, droning away at my task, I stumbled upon that which would make me understand. As my tools bit into the dirt something new, something different happened. Pulling back my tool fresh air came rushing over me from a hole that I had made. Cautiously I made the hole bigger while making sure the overlords did not see anything. Dropping rocks and dirt gave me the impression that I had discovered a chamber which was larger than just a small hole. Soon the hole was large enough for me to fit in, and I quickly dropped a light stick into it.
Looking in, the floor was smooth and well built. With strange but familiar inscriptions on the walls. I felt urged to explore deeper, something in my soul told me to inspect things closer. I squeezed through the hole, dropping down lightly trying to minimize the disturbance I caused. I picked up the light stick inspecting the area that I had just dropped down into. It was a tunnel that lead further down. I cautiously crept down the tunnel. Dragging my finger across the smooth walls as I went. The writings seemed to scream at me for comprehension but it escaped me.
I soon came to a door which was caked with dust and age. Still the writing tried to impart on me some wisdom that I could not understand. As I pushed the doors open a green glow assaulted my eyes. And from within on a dais made of stone was a small box that blinked green. My curiosity pulled me into the room. The knowledge promised by the overlords drove me to touch the small box, as I did text displayed, ”˙uoos ǝʌᴉɹɹɐ llᴉʍ ʇɹoddnS'pǝɥsᴉlqɐʇsǝǝɹ ʇɔɐʇuoƆ“. Now for the readers, I tried to write the text as best I could understand it. It is apparent to me now that it was written in the language of my forefathers. The text flashed, and I did not understand it, its blinking scared me. I yelled my frustrations at it. Cursed it for not revealing itself to me.
I heard someone call my name from the hole and turned to the sound. Quickly grabbing the small box, I wrapped it in cloth, and bolted back to the hole. By the time I got back I could see Zochi dangling her hand for me. I called out to her and I could hear the energy in her voice beckoning me towards her. I jumped up to her as she grabbed my wrist helping me out of the hole. I quickly filled the hole back as best as I could before the overlords came to inspect my work.
I turned to Zochi and told her, “Look! Look! At what I have found!”
I started to unwrap the cloth around the box, but Zochi wasn’t interested she was already pulling my hand towards the exit to the mines. I was odd I must say, but at that moment I held in my hands something that should have been the most important discovery yet Zochi was so frantic that whatever was bothering her was over riding her need to see my trinket.
I ran with her to the opening of the mine. We were almost to the entrance, I could see the light outside, then I felt the earth shake under my feet. Both Zochi and my own knees felt unsure, but the light in Zochi’s eyes drove me further. As we exited we both gazed upon a glorious sight. Our true saviors had returned.
From the skies fire rained down upon the overlords. Our people ran for cover in the mountains and water as the overlords in there protective metal suits tried to fire their guns and cannons at the ships in the sky. All Zochi and I could do was watch in awe struck glory. My heart jumped as I watch each and every conquistador fall as elegant eagle warriors leaped into battle, while fierce jaguar warriors tracked down the fleeing Spanish.
The old stories where true. It was happening like the old scholars had predicted. The 6th age, the Rise of the Aztecs.
*-Accounts of Aztec Scholar Tlaloc on the 10th day Itzcuintli, the return of Mictlantecuhtl and his warriors the Mictlán from Chicunauhmictlan* | 2019-07-22T14:04:19 | 2019-07-22T14:00:32 | 1,039 | 21 |
[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] | “Don’t.”
My back was turned, but I knew what that blasted hero was doing. He was trying to cut his bindings. They were simple rope, Sure, but I preferred to have them tied up easily so I can carry their dead bodies away without a hassle.
“You’ll never get away with this! Even at the cost of my life, my—“
“Legacy will live on!”
I interrupted. I’ve heard this speech a thousand times.
“You believe that you have inspired other heroes simply because you wanted to play the Martyr. I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”
His life didn’t mean much to me, but I had a few questions. I needed to know the answers. I had all the time I needed, and perhaps I’d give him a chance to see what it’s like to be me.
“No...”
“Yes! You believe that just because I killed you, that doesn’t mean that the other heroes won’t stop me eventually. I have news.”
I pulled him by his tight, fabric suit.
“You’ll never stop me.”
He gasped as he was slightly strangled by my grip. I liked this. Now for the questions. Perhaps I’d disembody him while I spoke. Maybe I’ll give him to the count of three if I’m feeling generous.
“First. What do the heroes want with me?”
“We want you behind bars.”
“Figures.”
I tapped my fingers on my desk. No hero had ever seen me up close, or those who did never lived to tell the tale. Photographers never caught glimpses of me. No one knew what I looked like. It must’ve been a surprise to the disgustingly giddy hero when the light came on, revealing my appearance. Now he knew that he had no chance of making it out alive.
“Your face—“
“I know.”
I knew. I knew that half of it was seemingly blasted apart.
“You and your wretched comrades did this to me. I’m not too mad about it. However, I don’t let disrespect slide.”
I glared.
“You Villain—“
That was my cue. I’ve done this so many times. Each and every time, I waited for those two words...
“I’m not a villain.”
“But—!”
“No. You’re a hero? You simply fight for what you believe in. Right now? I am fighting for what I believe in.”
I watched realization register onto his face. His handsome face, just before it was blown to bits.
I’m no Villain. I’m simply a regular person with a controversial opinion on how this world should be run.
And I had no intention to fail. | A man ran desperately through a dark alley. His eyes were those of a prey being hunted down by a cunning predator. His heavy breathing was reminiscent of a person who had reached his limit in a marathon.
*I got to get away, if I could only face him–*
Just before the man could finish his own thought, a dark-aura crashed into him like a freight train. The powerfully-built man was thrown a few ways away, like a rock skipping on the surface of a lake. The man struggled to lift himself up again after a few moments.
"Y-You... No, no," the man with an emblazoned 'M' on his chest said as he tried to limp away.
"No chance, mate," a cold serious tone of another man suddenly echoed from the darkness.
With that, a shadow moved to intercept the limping man. The result was a fountain of blood gushing through a huge hole on the man's right shoulder. As one do when subjected to such a painful experience, the man shouted at the top of his lung. Even so, he continued to limp away despite the bloodied hole on his torso.
*I... need to find somewhere to hide...* the limping man thought to himself.
"Not enough of a critical hit, huh? Fine."
A burst of shadows then hit the limp man repeatedly across his body. A mere second later, the bloody figure simply fell down face-first onto the cold concrete floor of the alley. Even so, the man's torso still lifted up and down ever so gently indicating that he was still in fact alive.
"I'm not one to let a dying animal suffer for too long, so," a hooded man emerged from the shadow and quickly stabbed the bloodied man on the floor with a sabre of some sort, "now die and don't come back, will you."
A cold breeze of the night gently swept through the alley. The moonlight shone bright, some reflected off of the hooded man's sabre and metal items. He took a few deep breaths and let out a sigh before wiping down his bloodied sabre. Once done, he sheathed the sabre back into a hidden scabbard within his dark robe.
But when he was about to walk away...
"Y-You... can never defeat us... Even if you k-kill me..." the presumed-corpse behind him suddenly muttered as the hooded man pulled out his sabre once more.
"How?! Fine," the hooded man simply rushed forth – slashing and slashing away at his adversary.
However, as he was focused on truly ending the fight – or rather, cold murder – a riot of men had appeared around him. He was caught off guard, not realising that he was outflanked before it was too late. What perplexed him was the men's face and getup – all identical to the man still being skewered by his sabre on his feet.
The hooded man pulled off his hood and took out a phone. He simply laughed as the other person on the line responded.
"Yes, master... Do you require any assistance?" a high pitched voice from the other side of the line asked.
"No, I can handle *all* of them on my own. Just calling to let you know I'll be entering the lair rather late tonight, please prepare a decent meal for when I get home."
"It would be done, master." | 2019-08-06T19:15:08 | 2019-08-06T18:08:59 | 151 | 48 |
[WP] A man, stricken with anger and sadness, sacrifices himself to Satan in a ritual to curse his cheating wife. The man awakens as the newly born baby of his wive’s infidelity. Despite being a baby, he retains all the memories of his previous life and from that moment plans his revenge.
[removed] | It was difficult to coordinate a revenge plan when all I could do was wave my arms and scream. Nevertheless, I was the worst baby ever. I woke her up as often as possible. If her new husband came to soothe me instead, I would scream until he gave up and passed me along to her. When my teeth started coming in, I bit her tits constantly. She tried to switch me to a bottle, but I wouldn’t take it. I saw her breaking down from frustration and exhaustion more than once that first year.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I figured when I got a little bigger, when I got more control over my body and my speech, I could really make her pay. After all, I had the rest of her life. A life I expected to cut very, very short.
She wasn’t half as bad a mother as I expected her to be. I mean, she’d been a real failure when we were married. Could barely hold down a job doing things a monkey could do. Maybe motherhood was her calling or something, I dunno. She read to me a lot. She took it in stride when my first word was “bitch.” She encouraged me to toddle and if she couldn’t catch me when I fell, she would give me bandages and kisses. It was more than she’d ever given me when we were married and I resented her like hell for it.
I was nine when I finally got my chance. I was big by then, almost as tall as her. She and her husband thought me to be a strange child: I was quiet, angry, seemed to know more than I should. I never spoke a word to my “parents” that wasn’t spiked with vitriol. They thought a family vacation would do me some good. So we went road tripping across the country. This involved seeing a lot of boring shit that culminated in the Grand Canyon, which I’ve never seen the point of.
At least I didn’t until we were standing along the rim. She stood on the edge, looking down into the gorge, her hair whipping around her face. By that point I didn’t think she was beautiful anymore. She’d aged considerably — a credit to my efforts, no doubt. Her husband was rooting around in the trunk for the camera. I stood directly behind her. One little shove and she’d surely stumble to her death.
I stepped forward. Her arm shot out, blocking the edge.
“Careful, sweetie,” she said. “It’s dangerous.”
She was always so protective of me. All my life — not the first, but the second — the only thing she wanted was to keep me safe. Her entire world revolved around me, the way I’d always wanted it to. I tried to step forward, to throw my arms out in front of me, but my body wouldn’t move. I’d planned this for nine years and when the time came, I couldn’t do it.
I realized I loved her. Not as my wife, but as my mother. As we got back in the car and continued our trip, I knew I would never be able to kill her. Nine years ago, I’d wanted nothing more than revenge. I wanted it badly enough to curse her. But somehow I’d managed to curse myself. I would have to love my cheating wife for the rest of her life.
“What did you think, sweetie?” she asked from the front seat. “Did you like the Grand Canyon?”
For once, I didn’t feel the need to make her miserable with my answer.
“Yeah, Mom. It was cool.”
She smiled. And for the first time in nine years, so did I. | The first few years were rough. To enact my revenge, I’d need some basic motor skills. Learning to walk was easy enough, hell I picked it up much faster than normal because of my previous experience. But I realized I couldn’t let my new parents catch on to my unique condition. So for the first few years of my life, I’m a regular baby that learned to walk somehow at 6 months of age. I hid the fact that I knew how to talk, think, and act like an adult for most of my childhood.
Hiding this from my “parents” was hard, but they loved me too much to really question if I was a hell-spawn of satan. They also weren’t religious either, which helped. I researched early childhood development, and kept a calendar marked so I could reveal developmental milestones at the right time. The calendar was hidden inside my mattress in the crib. Hell, anything useful I kept in my secret compartment that I fashioned myself. They never found the pouch I made, and never assumed I could even do such a thing. Calendar got crumpled though.
Anyway, once I was ready to start kinder-garden, that’s where the plan began. I accelerated my learning by making the teachers think I’m a genius. I’m really not all that smart, but knowing basic algebra at the first grade level was surprising enough to let me skip a few grade levels. Sure, I got picked on, but I wasn’t going to let that detract me from my ultimate goal.
I graduated high school at age 12, and went to Harvard. It’s funny, because in my previous life I went to my local state college. I would have never considered getting a Harvard education, but here I was. It was a bit difficult at first, being a 12 year old at Harvard, but that was all part of the plan.
See, I made some waves in the Harvard community. Did some projects, talked to some professors, made my name known. Eventually, I got the attention of news organizations, understandably. I was known as the boy geinous at Harvard. I had a few chats with some of the more prestigious organizations, had to deal with my fair share of good will hunting jokes, but all I really wanted was one particular news channel. The one my ex wife was a reporter for.
See, I knew she’d move back to Boston after my demise. I planed it that way. I made it look like a suicide. I know that at any sign of trouble, she’d run back to her family in Boston for comfort. Fuck that was annoying. You ever have your wife miss your anniversary because the side piece she was seeing dumped her? Instead of coming to me, she took the first flight out to fucking Boston. Who the fuck does that?
Anyway, I eventually got the attention of her news organization, and insisted that she be the one who interviewed me, live on air. She’d gotten thinner, surprisingly. A few licks of grey hair, carefully pinned back in a fashionable way. Still pretty, and still a cheating bitch. I wonder who gave her that ring, that poor man. Maybe it was Jake, that dude she was flirting with the week before my date with satan. Hopefully by the end of all this, he’d be safe from her wretched demeanor.
Irrelevant details aside, it was time for me to make my move. The interview was simple enough, just a chat with the smartest 14 year old in the world. I exchanged pleasantries, answered her questions, tried my best not to call her a cheating skank. I was civil enough, or at least until I could make my grand play.
The last question came to the table. She asked me this particular question, one that would be her fatal flaw.
“what do you see in your future? You are a smart young man, I’d assume you’d have some sort of plan to save the world at this point!”
The stage is set, the cards in my favor. Now is my chance. I will be able to humiliate her on such an emotional level, I doubt Boston could save her.
I began the grand setup.
“Oh, well as I see it, I feel like I’d be dealing with a lot of up-dog as I continue my education”.
“What’s up-dog?”
Checkmate. | 2019-09-11T21:49:59 | 2019-09-11T21:40:05 | 98 | 65 |
[WP] A medieval European knight somehow ends up in feudal Japan. With nowhere to go in the foreign land he decides to settle down in a forest. Outside this forest sits a village; and as years go by rumours start to spread of a tall metal spirit that roams this forest. | I can still remember the day i was excommunicated. A few fortnights prior to it, i set out to rescue the love of my life, who was admittedly from a small insignificant kingdom, and who my family disapproved of, but i had my mind set on her.
I heard from a beggar that she has been kidnapped by a wizard who took her west, and that was all i knew before setting off to find her.
I walked for many miles, until I found the tower in which she was imprisoned, and swiftly defeated the evil goons of the wizard, followed by the wizard himself. It was only later that I found out that in fact there was no wizard, and she wasn't kidnapped. What had actually happened was that she became the betrothed of a noble, who happened to be the brother of the archbishop, and the tower was in fact a form of church. Thus my actions were seen as an act against the lord himself, and while the killing was seen as just conquering a neighboring kingdom, I was still cast out of society.
​
Embarrassed by my actions I made a vow to never go adventuring to the west, and thus, having nowhere else to go, I headed east.
​
For months I just walked, mostly sleeping under trees and hunting for myself. After months i had made it to the northern kingdom. Since the religious order there was different i would no longer be forced out of cities, and who would recognize me here anyway? But after so many months of seeing new things and places, i was curious as for what lied beyond, so i continued my journey further east.
I trekked through the snow for years, seeing the landscape and the people become more and more nomadic. The further I walked the more the people seemed to resemble the ones in the books my father had in his study, with smaller eyes and soft robes. And so I walked on and on until i reached an ocean.
By that time I had picked up the local language a little, so it wasn't hard for me to board a merchant ship and sail across. When I arrived I continued as I became so used to do, and continued once again through the forest. While there i stumbled upon a pool of warm water, like the one I had seen in the place they called Baikal. It's been at least 3 years since i've been there, and i was desperate to wash myself off.
Taking off my armor I dove into the water, and my mind immediately started drifting, thinking about that bastard beggar who misled me and who got me into this mess. No, It was my own foolishness that got me here. Relaxing further I noticed how vulnerable I felt outside of my armor, how defenseless I had become from being so used to wearing it.
Suddenly I heard a rustling in the bushes. I only had the time to grab my sword before an arrow had implanted Itself in my shin. Somehow I managed to fight off the bandits that had attacked me, but i was bleeding profusely. On that day I made another vow, to never take off my armor again. Settling in a nearby cave, I managed to somehow nurse my leg back to health, but walking was still agony. I knew that my journey could go no further, but after all these years of living off the land I managed to get food despite my limited movement.
​
The hardest part however was not physical, rather it was the ache in my mind from knowing that I would most likely die in this land, without ever seeing what lied beyond. On some evenings I would do nothing but wail in despair, regretting my own foolishness.
It was however this same foolishness that gave me all my wisdom, which I would sometimes share with those who were lost in the forest. After some time I had picked up the tongue of this land too.
One day, a young man came to see me. I had met him before, when I saved him when he was still a child, and he has been coming to me for advice ever since. While I told him that my name was Melfried of Scanthine, he insisted on calling me by another name, Tetsu no Kami. I let him, thinking it to just be a little nickname, until the day I made my final journey.
​
Growing tired of my surroundings I had decided to venture out to the nearby village. Being now old and frail, I could not go in my armor, but it was refreshing to feel the air on my skin after all this time. Venturing into the village, I stumbled upon what looked like a shrine, but in there was a set of armor that looked oddly like mine, and looking around, using my limited knowledge of the local scripture, I could only read one insignia, placed at the front of the helmet. "Tetsu no Kami"
Confused and shocked, i turned around only to see the boy i saved, dressed in what looked like religious attire. He told me of a legend of the iron spirit, who lived in the cave to the south, about how he would wail on some days, but help lost souls on others; that the spirit was so prevalent that the whole forest was named after him, being called "the Iron Forest" | Her hair had been as bright as his own, a bright orange-red that put the small campfire nearby to shame. Her green eyes caught the light as she smiled at him. The wine she poured into his goblet was just as dark and deep as those eyes, though a far darker crimson than blood.
She had come to him in the small hours of the night beneath the full moon, interrupting his moonlight vigil. The ancient graveyard was a unconventional place to hold such a vigil on the eve of his departure of his homeland, but it had felt right for him. He was justified in his choices, strong in his faith, and prepared for his quest to the Holy Lands as part of the Holy Crusade. Or at least, he had been before the strange woman walked into the moss-covered boneyard. She had brought a basket of food and wine and when she had invited him to join her, he had been unable to refuse her smile, the depths of her eyes.
"Must you leave on the morrow? Must you leave so very soon?"
He had drunk deeply of the woman's wine and feasted on the berries, honey and cream she offered. Innured to the wines and ales of his family's lands, he had drunk without care and found his head swimming. He had not objected when she asked him to build them a fire against an old Fire-blackened stone. Nor had he objected when she convinced him to shed his armor, his sword. His long vigil was completely forgotten after the third goblet when she asked him to hold her close and share his warmth with her.
"I must. I have sworn myself to the Pope's man. I cannot stay without being foresworn."
Their limbs were tangled intimately akimbo and his swimming vision could see no further than her face as they lay near the fire. Her skin was as smooth as the river's touch, supple and light as smoke. He watched her sit up, her long, curled fiery-red hair raining down around them both as she leaned over him.
"What about my honor? Would you defend it as well as you do your own?"
"I would," He answered without a second thought.
"Would you swear your name to defending my honor?" Her deep Green eyes almost shone with an inner light as he looked up, and the world spun around them.
"Of course I would."
"Then Swear."
"I swear, on my name, to defend your honor as my own." He felt the words come out of his mouth as he looked up into her eyes almost as if he were watching jesters putting on a play and he a member of the audience.
"I don't think you really meant it." She caressed his cheek as she spoke, her face suddenly mournful as if he had already betrayed her.
"I, Jim O'Laerghy, swear on my name to defend your honor as I would my own." He took her hand in his own and leaned up towards him, looking into those depths as he spoke.
"Then say it once more, thrice done, and sworn." The light seemed to pass from the campfire through her hair, illuminating her fiery locks.
"I, Jimothy Lawrence O'Laerghy, swear on my name and my soul in heaven to defend your honor as I would my own." As his voice finally came silent he felt a gathering dread deep in the pit of his stomach. Her smile had grown predatory in the night and her teeth suddenly seemed sharp. The Wine suddenly had an after-taste of blood and he felt the whisper of his nurse-maids childhood stories run through the back of his mind and down his spine in an uncontrollable shiver.
"Then I accept your Vow, Holy Knight. Do not worry, You will be safe enough in my keeping. Now sleep." He had opened his mouth to protest but she pressed a single finger against his head and he knew nothing more. He had dark dreams of passing through heat and cold. He heard the screams of dying men and the squalling of newborn children.
When he awoke and came to light, many things had changed. The Ancient Boneyard was gone and instead he was surrounded in the ruins of an ancient temple. His beard and hair had more than a full season of growth. He felt full, as if he had only finished eating a few minutes prior and still tasted blood in his mouth. He didn't see the woman, but he could recall everything from before. Every word he had spoken to her was seared into his mind, just as he could recall every word she had spoken to him while he slept. And he also knew, within his beating heart, that every word she had spoken was true.
She had made a vow to another to provide a defender for this forest, this temple. He was to defend her honor by defending this place from any transgressors. At the same time, she would not have him foresworn by breaking his vows. She had taken him back to a time long before his own. It was a time before the call for the Crusades. It was a time , perhaps before Christ himself had even walked the Holy Lands. He was hundreds of years early for the war he had swore to take part in and in a whole different world from what he could tell.
He looked upon his armor and grimaced at the sight. The woman had forbidden him to spread his faith in these lands or even openly display their symbols. She meant for his presence to go unremarked in future timed, so the woman had adorned his armor in bright and fearsome paints.
The woman had promised him that his debt to her would be fulfilled once the Fox spirit of the temple was satisfied. He suspected that might be easier said than done. However, he was honor-bound to this cause and determined to keep the sanctity of his word. He rose to his feet and set about to learn his new home. If not overjoyed, he was ready to carry out his sworn duty and begin his new life as the custodian of the wood, the Temple Guardian, the Iron Oni. | 2019-11-15T09:14:41 | 2019-11-15T08:10:26 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You have accidentally died. No, no, no, you didn’t die in an accident, you’ve accidentally died, as in, the Grim Reaper has no idea what you’re doing in the underworld. | “Jesus Christ, Tom! This is what, the fourth time?”
“Uh, it’s the fifth, actually,” I corrected. The man in front of me was no stranger. Clad in all black and with a devilish looking scythe in his hands, the Grim Reaper was not a figure easily forgotten. Especially not after four previous encounters. His swirling robes were the same color as the endless abyss surrounding him, making it hard for me to make him out. “Look, I know you told me not to, but I swear I was really close this time and-”
The Reaper rolled his eyes and cut me off. “No excuses! I told you last time, and I told you the time before that, if you end up here after messing with those stupid fate-altering rituals, I wasn’t going to guide you back. Enjoy your eternity in limbo.”
“Limbo? Wait a minute, Chris-”
The Reaper cut me off again. “Don’t you ‘Chris’ me! God, I should have never told you my name. You’re stuck here until the literal end of existence. Hope you enjoy your stay, Tom, because you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”
The Reaper turned away to leave me before I could respond further. I reached out to stop him before realizing that it was futile. I had no corporeal form here. I’d learned that the first time around. Physical bodies weren’t a luxury one was offered in the land between life and death.
“The least you could do is let me die!” I called after the Reaper. “Do I really deserve this?”
“Yes!” The Reaper exclaimed, stopping and turning to face me again. “Do you know what happens every time you pop in for a visit? How much time I have to waste taking you back to the living realm? How much paperwork I have to fill out when I get back? There are people who have suffered for literal days, unable to die, because I was busy babysitting you, Tom! I’m sick of your shit! You are the most inconsiderate asshole I’ve ever met, and I have quite literally had a conversation with every soul that has EVER existed.” The Reaper sighed and pointed at his scythe. “This thing won’t even work on you, so I couldn’t take your soul even if I wanted to. You’re still technically alive, and, despite your best efforts with those dumb rituals, fate dictates you won’t die for a few more decades. Maybe I’ll come back for you then.”
"Really?” I asked hopefully. It would be boring, but I’d learned that time was pretty fluid in The Reaper’s world. Thirty years or so probably wouldn’t be so bad.
The Reaper snorted. “Hell no. Enjoy an eternity of slowly going insane, asshole.” With that final comment, he faded into the darkness that surrounded me, leaving me with nothing but my own thoughts.
“Dick.” | A geyser of lava exploded upwards in a brilliant crimson column right in front of Simon's face. He scrambled backwards. Charred, dead earth crumbled underneath his hands. "Hello? Where am I?"
Turning around, he came face to face with a spectre shrouded in darkness. Bony, skeletal fingers wielded a menacing obsidian scythe.
"Ahhh!" For a second, Simon thought he'd screamed. Instead, the high-pitched squeal came from under the hooded void.
"Are you the Grim Reaper?" he asked. The air split in two. Simon ducked. A few hairs drifted to the ground where his body used to be, but luckily he'd warped in time. Now he was almost twenty feet away, standing at the top of a stalagmite. "Hey! That wasn't very nice!"
"What are you doing here?" the Grim Reaper asked. "You're not due for at least...a century!"
"I'm dead?" Simon yelled. "No! I had so much to live for!" He wasn't seriously bothered. The jumper was sure that in a moment, the dream would end and he'd wake up back in bed - nightmares weren't infrequent for jumpers, ranging from appearing in the middle of a volcano to the middle of the air, right off the edge of a skyscraper.
The Grim Reaper was ruffling through mounds of scrolls, muttering to herself. "Simon, Simon...could there be a mixup? Maybe you're Simon Gareth?"
"Nope."
"Simon Chang?"
"Nuh-uh. I'm Simon Moon, and I'm a jumper. Nice to meet you!" Weird. The dream felt a lot more vivid than normal.
The cloaked figure sagged into the throne of bones that graced the center of the hazy cavern. "You jumped here? Before your time?"
A sinking feeling rose in Simon's throat. "This isn't a dream, is it?"
The hood pulled back, revealing the malicious grin of death herself. "No, it's not."
"How do I get out?" He tried picturing home and warping. Nothing happened. He tried his school, tried picturing his family, even the school bully's house - nothing worked. "I can't leave!"
"Obviously not," Grim said, planting the scythe into the ground. "This realm has enchantments far more powerful than your mortal abilities. No one escapes hell."
Simon warped down. "You don't want me here, do you?"
Grim snorted. "Obviously not. It looks bad - I've got a reputation to maintain! And I can't even kill you - technically, you're already dead."
The warper thought about this. "Then help me escape!"
"You want me, the Grim Reaper, to help you, a human...leave the realm of the dead." A gurgling blob of magma popped in the cavern's lava lake, as if to snort in derision.
"Yup."
After a long silence, bony fingers reached out and plucked the scythe out of the earth. "Fine. Follow me, human, and don't you dare slow me down. This land is not a forgiving one."
*Voop! Voop voop!* In the span of a few seconds, Simon popped up at the four corners of the room and finally ended up on Death's shoulders. He smiled cheekily.
"We'll see who's slowing down who!"
---
Thanks for reading! Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you there~ | 2019-12-05T18:04:55 | 2019-12-05T16:51:57 | 124 | 41 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | Her eyes settled on her blood-covered teammate. He walked along with the others up front, boasting about how he single-handedly won this for them, and they should all be buying his drinks.
She could feel her head pounding, and her anger slowly building. What would a rogue know about carrying a team? What would he know about helping since all he does is scream for heals and run full tilt at the enemy?
The wizard caught her attention. "Come now Drell, you may have stabbed the Goblin King in the back, but I'm the one who blinded him with fire first."
The healer held back the urge to scream. Sure, the Wizard knew all kinds of spells. If only Declan knew how to aim. The healer grabbed the burned edges of her robe. It was a sacred item, and without apology or remorse the wizard burned through her to get to the Goblin King, after all, a healer can take care of themselves after right?
"Mell, you should learn to position yourself better. Let's start working on that." The paladin gave the healer an accusatory stare from beside the wizard. His armor shone in the light of the small-town road.
"Position myself?" There was a threat of violence in her voice that no one took seriously. The rogue and wizard rolled their eyes and headed into the tavern, avoiding the lecture and laughing at Mell, who was getting the short end today. It was a common occurrence.
"Gallant, you don't need to position yourself because you hide behind sheets of metal and a holy symbol, don't lecture me today."
The paladin frowned at Mell, puffing out his chest and stopping her attempt to pass him by. He grabbed her by the arm and cuffed the side of her head with his other hand. His gauntlet left a cut over her temple.
"Stop bringing the team down. You're being a selfish bitch right now. Just do your job and go to bed, you're full of shit because you're tired."
Mell allowed her wrath to settle over her like a cold blanket and smiled at him. "You're right Gallant. I'll grab a drink and head to bed."
Gallant looked pleased with himself and let go of her, pushing past the door, and letting it slam in her face.
The healer entered the bar after an hour, and if anyone had cared at all to look, they would notice the streaks of tears at the edges of her face, where she hadn't remembered to wipe. The tears did not betray her, and for once she was so very grateful to be unimportant.
She ate her food, read one of the many books she carried and prepared her nightly poultice. She was to treat all party members with the poultice before their long rest so that they would never be ill or sore the following day.
One by one they undressed for her, no shame or care, and one by one she took care of their remaining wounds. The rogue and wizard muttered something about her skills improving since this poultice didn't sting like the others. The paladin grunted something about her babying the team.
When the moon rose in greeting to the sky the rogue, the wizard, and the paladin woke abruptly. Each could not scream, each bent over in pain. They looked around, thinking that someone must have poisoned their ale, but when they saw the healer sitting quietly atop the bed, realization hit.
"You tire and bore me boys. I must protest. I found a patron the other day. He's been sending me countless requests. I never really considered joining the Emperor, but today I think I understand why I should. "
The paladin tried to push a smiting prayer past his gasping breath, but to no avail. Like a twisted children's tale, the healer took from each warrior what they truly valued.
From the rogue she took his dexterity, straddling him, crippling his hand and shattering his ankles.
From the wizard, a sharp spike through the head would suffice. He breathed, but his eyes were glassy and empty.
Lastly, Mell kicked the paladin into a more desirable spot, kneeling down beside his weak and weary body.
"You know Gallant, I really think you should work on your perception, you're being shit at your job and it's quite literally killing your team."
Gallant's mind was shattered. He wasn't supposed to succumb to poison, he was immune. How could this happen?
Mell bent over his face, her long hair tickling his neck and forehead. She wrapped her fingers around his holy symbol and ripped it off. Her lips moved to his ear.
"My position has never been merely submission, I might be on the bottom, but that where I have power. I decide who lives and dies, and up until yesterday, I hadn't changed my mind. Learn your place."
Something heavy held on to Gallant's heart and he drifted off to a fitful night in hell.
Edit: Spelling. Also, part 2 is further down.
Edit: There may be a couple more parts.
Final Update: To everyone who asked for more, I have just finished with the 6th part and it's down in the comments. It's the epilogue so I hope you all enjoy this short story adventure.
Thanks to everyone who encouraged and complimented me, I really appreciate you all! | A group of younglings was sitting around a fire on a clear starry night listening to an elder dwarf tell stories of the "good old days". One of them asked why the healers of the world are now treated like royalty, everyone wanted to be a healer and be catered to by everyone.
The dwarf suddenly turned solemn and said to the kids to listen carefully as this was a lesson as much as a story that he was about to tell them.
Dwarf "It happened many moons ago, there was always 5 of us running around and adventuring together. It was always that way for balance in combat, you need three things in battle always tank damage and healers".
The younglings all started squabbling over what they wanted to be and why and who would be better at what.
The dwarf calmed them and continued the lesson "back then we kept track of how injured the tanks got and how many kills the warriors piled up after each adventure" he looked down and a single tear rolled down his eye as he recalled that moment they lost the friend they didnt know they needed. " no one really paid any attention to the healers though, when everyone died they were blamed, when everyone got out safe they were not rewarded or thanked by everyone like the tanks were"
Dwarf "there was one particular dungeon as we liked to call them that was difficult and had tons of enemies to try and prove your worth. One night we decided to try and conquer the evil in that dungeon, but the priest could not be found and no one really noticed because we just found a replacement by someone who was bored and didnt have friends of his own".
Dwarf "we settled on a time to meet at this dungeon and try to cleanse it of evil. Of course everyone had different ways to get there whether they took a trained mount to arrive to the closest town or if you were rich enough you had a mount that was at your control. It was always cool too see what eachother had collected in our various travels".
"We all arrived at close to the same time with the new addition to the group and not really thinking about the priest that has been with us for years in the past, we prepared ourselves and gave eachother wards and spells to make us feel invigorated, and we all stood in front of the entrance to the cave ready for anything. Or so we thought".
Dwarf "as we started into the dungeon we encountered a few groups of enemies that we vanguished with ease, but as we went further they got harder which was somewhat expected I guess. But the guys were getting insanely hard to kill which was not quite right for this dungeon as this was a intermediate encounter according to the records in the libraries.it was then we got a feeling of unease as the beasts began to be healed by a hidden force, the beasts were always to dull headed to have healers" more tears rolled down the dwarfs cheeks "one of the warriors was the first to die but he was resurrected by the priest which he half heartedly thanked him for"
Dwarf "we were only part way through this dungeon when we were to our amazement pushed back slowly, the beasts we encountered were better than average and had a new purpose other than patrolling a small area like they normally did. We got pushed all the way back to the entrance, all of us ragged and our armor broken and our will to fight was gone".
"As all the enemies of the dungeon came sauntering out we noticed they were preparing in the same manner we did by enchanting eachother to be stronger and more fierce. Then we saw him, the priest that we regularly fought beside was now staring at us from on a knoll in the midst of the great horde of beasts. His eyes were not the same, they were filled with rage and hate so fierce that it made your deepest fears seem like fairytales".
"We quickly mounted onto our flying steeds and took to the skies, we sent 2 warriors ahead to warn the cities what had happened and to tell the king we needed help. The others stayed back and kept an eye on the group of beasts and tried to evacuate people out of their direct path".
"We had no idea where they were heading at first, but after a few days we deduced they were heading to the main city of the friendly races called the alliance. The city was large and had more civilians than warriors at this time, we send calls as far as we could asking for help from all the heroes big and small across the vast world".
"We noticed that the enemy group has been growing, they seemed to be picking up random animals and beasts that roamed the world that us heroes alot of times put no thought to, we just tried to avoid them by running through the middle without making them mad or sneaking around them. By the time the army of beasts reached the gates of the alliance it was such a massive army that we all wanted to turn and flee, butwe knew we had a higher responsibility to the citizens of the alliance".
The dark priest as we called him now stood at the head of his army and called out "do you feel grateful of my services now, do you want to thank me for all those times I kept you alive. It's too late now I'm tired of being forgotten about so now I will make you remember me forever".
"The battle lasted for 2 weeks but felt much longer than that. Half the city was burnt down before we can stop the beasts, but we did stop them. Most of them anyway, that is when our enemy the horde was created. The dark priest took a few survivors of his army and vowed to return and finish us when they were stronger".
"Ever since then healers were not to be forgotten about or yelled at for things they couldnt do because everyone knows what they are capable of when they are tired of being alone and forgotten. That is why healers are treated as such now, it's not so much necessity that makes it so but fear that reminds what happened before".
"And that is also where our greatest enemy came from. The horde".
All the younglings were staring at the dwarf in silence as a new fear from healers slowly took root in there beings, a fear that will live on for generations. | 2020-01-05T10:33:13 | 2020-01-05T08:36:40 | 1,546 | 240 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "I just need more time" the healer said. "If you would take a few minutes to plan and let me do my work instead of rushing into danger, we wouldn't have to keep doing this" As he spoke his hands ran across the Paladins chest, a warm glow spilling across the slowly closing wounds.
"Evil waits for no one", the paladin replied. "If you're too cowardly to do Men's work, then we don't need you with us. You'll only be a liability."
The glow stopped as the healer's hands fell to his sides. "Cowardly? Do you know how many times I've saved your life? I've lost count. Even beyond that, I have resurrected you a dozen times. You were gone, beyond all conventional help, held in the grasp of your precious Gods. I pulled you back. Me. Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's guaranteed? And if I fall who is there to wrest me from the clutches of death. You? You whose magic is only good for killing those you disagree with? The wizard perhaps? His version of resurrection is something I would not subject my worst enemies to. None of the others could come close."
"It's your job. You get your share like everyone else. Now quit your complaining and finish patching me up." The paladin took a swig from his flask.
"No."
"No? You don't get to say no. This is your job. It's the only thing you bring to the party. "
"No."
The Paladin stood to his feet, slightly reinvigorated by the healing already received. He glared down at the healer with contempt in his eyes. "Then you can go. We never needed you. I have slayed dragons and giants. I can find an eager replacement within the fortnight."
The healer smiled, faintly, with just a hint of a tear forming in his eye. "You will never replace me. I know you better than you know yourself. I know every wound you've received and how. I know every moment of pain and weakness you've felt. I know you. And I know you will live to regret this." He gathered his belongings without another word, the uncomfortable silence spreading through the camp as the rest of the party came to realize what was happening. The ranger gave a solemn nod, and that was the only goodbye he received. As he rode into the fading light of dusk, he feared not the things that lurked in the dark places of the world, instead he reflected on his past adventures, the many lives he'd returned to the world as his companions stripped others from it, and as a smile came to his face, he whispered to himself, "Dragons and giants."
Months later as the gate to the Paladin's keep came crashing down, with all of his vanquished enemies swarming, competing to claim their vengeance, he heard a familiar voice calling above the horde. "Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. You can kill him as many times as you like"
Edit: Thanks for all the love! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed my little story, and sorry so many of you related to it. | As the horde of skeletons, ghouls, and nameless undead abominations surrounded the archer, the assassin, and the berserker, a supernova of green light exploded in the sky. From the heavenly glow emerged a familiar face, hovering above the horde.
“Healer!” the archer cried, launching a point-blank volley of arrows into the undead. “Thank goodness you’ve escaped!”
“We came to rescue your sorry ass, but these damn zombies are annoying as hell,” said the assassin as she dodged a swipe from a clawed, decaying hand.
“QUIT FLOATING AND COME HELP US, HEALER! WE DON’T HAVE FOREVER DOWN HERE!” bellowed the berserker as he sank his axe into a ghoul’s forehead.
But the healer continued to float. He stared directly at his allies with eyes that shone with green light, but he was acting as if he couldn’t see or hear them.
“Healer! Are you okay up there? Those evil wizard meanies that captured you didn’t hurt you, did they?” asked the archer, as she reached over her shoulder to grab another arrow from her quiver, only to grasp at empty air.
“For Fragoth’s sake, dude! Did they cast a spell of deafness on you? Literally any help would be absolutely fucking phenomenal right now,” yelled the assassin, who had accidentally got her knife caught in a skeleton’s ribcage, and was trying to pull it free.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HEALER? I NEED HEALING! I NEED HEALING!” screamed the berserker, who didn’t really need healing yet, but who just really liked calling out that he needed healing.
The healer finally made a move. He raised his staff, and the emerald at its tip glowed with a blinding light. He pointed his staff at the party, but the party was not healed. Instead, at their feet, the undead they had defeated were slowly reawakening. Their eyes opened, and they latched on to the overwhelmed party.
“Please, Healer!” the archer squealed, “Get them off of us!” She sank into the crowd of zombies, and was quiet.
“You sick fuck!” the assassin cried. “I’ll kill you, you flying sack of maggot-covered-” She was unable to finish, as ghouls were attacking her face.
“YOU’RE OFF THE TEAM, HEALER! YOU HEAR ME? OFF! THE! TEAM!” the berserker yelled before succumbing to the sheer volume of skeletons climbing his body.
The healer sank to the ground. The undead crowd parted to allow him to walk to the place where his former party was being torn apart. He moved past the pile of skeletons, past the ghouls, and stopped when he reached the crowd of zombies picking at the archer’s remains. The staff glowed a brilliant green once again, and the zombies scattered. The healer pointed his staff at what once was the archer, and he watched as she rose.
The archer tried to talk, but she couldn’t. Her vocal chords were too torn and ripped to produce noise. Her eyes widened with terror.
“You were always good to me,” the healer said, “so you have been revived. I always did my best for the party. I spent my free time studying tomes, trying to find ways to keep you all alive. But now, the necromancers have shown me that there is no injury that can’t be healed. Even death is escapable.”
The healer leaned in close, and the archer felt her rotting body unable to move, bound by the staff’s power.
“Death is escapable,” the healer said, “But I am not.”
First time on the subreddit, let me know what you think :) | 2020-01-05T12:01:26 | 2020-01-05T11:16:18 | 317 | 105 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "I just need more time" the healer said. "If you would take a few minutes to plan and let me do my work instead of rushing into danger, we wouldn't have to keep doing this" As he spoke his hands ran across the Paladins chest, a warm glow spilling across the slowly closing wounds.
"Evil waits for no one", the paladin replied. "If you're too cowardly to do Men's work, then we don't need you with us. You'll only be a liability."
The glow stopped as the healer's hands fell to his sides. "Cowardly? Do you know how many times I've saved your life? I've lost count. Even beyond that, I have resurrected you a dozen times. You were gone, beyond all conventional help, held in the grasp of your precious Gods. I pulled you back. Me. Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's guaranteed? And if I fall who is there to wrest me from the clutches of death. You? You whose magic is only good for killing those you disagree with? The wizard perhaps? His version of resurrection is something I would not subject my worst enemies to. None of the others could come close."
"It's your job. You get your share like everyone else. Now quit your complaining and finish patching me up." The paladin took a swig from his flask.
"No."
"No? You don't get to say no. This is your job. It's the only thing you bring to the party. "
"No."
The Paladin stood to his feet, slightly reinvigorated by the healing already received. He glared down at the healer with contempt in his eyes. "Then you can go. We never needed you. I have slayed dragons and giants. I can find an eager replacement within the fortnight."
The healer smiled, faintly, with just a hint of a tear forming in his eye. "You will never replace me. I know you better than you know yourself. I know every wound you've received and how. I know every moment of pain and weakness you've felt. I know you. And I know you will live to regret this." He gathered his belongings without another word, the uncomfortable silence spreading through the camp as the rest of the party came to realize what was happening. The ranger gave a solemn nod, and that was the only goodbye he received. As he rode into the fading light of dusk, he feared not the things that lurked in the dark places of the world, instead he reflected on his past adventures, the many lives he'd returned to the world as his companions stripped others from it, and as a smile came to his face, he whispered to himself, "Dragons and giants."
Months later as the gate to the Paladin's keep came crashing down, with all of his vanquished enemies swarming, competing to claim their vengeance, he heard a familiar voice calling above the horde. "Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. You can kill him as many times as you like"
Edit: Thanks for all the love! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed my little story, and sorry so many of you related to it. | Griffin groaned weakly, trying to shift against his restraints just enough to try to get any kind of comfort. He couldn't remember much about where he was. He'd been keeping watch for the group, then nothing.
"'Oh hey Emil, why don't you use some of that Necromancy on them?'" The voice was mocking from afar, getting closer as the other male strode forwards. "'I don't like magic, I never use magic but I must know everything about yours to know that it's Necromancy.'"
Emil scowled, gripping the elf by his hair, forcing him to look up into his eyes, forcing him to see the glare that overwhelmed his features.
"Hey man, we were joking. You know me, I'm n-"
"Yeah, joking. Just like every other time you've joked around about shit. You've almost gotten us killed time after time. And every time it's me who has to pick up the pieces."
Emil threw the elfs head back down, scowling at the rogue who he'd used to call his friend. He'd been stripped of all his weapons, including that special magical one which could hide as almost any inanimate object on his form. It had taken a while to find all seventeen of the daggers, but Emil was thorough when he needed to be.
"I'm going to make you scream, Griffin." The voice was oddly calm, that same voice that he would use to chat with the guys while they were on their travels. "You want Necromancy, you're going to get it."
Emil raised his hand towards Griffin, starting to coalesce a deep green to black energy that rippled across his fingers before reaching towards the restrained man. Griffins eyes widened, him trying to fight to move away from the magic but not managing it before just his little finger touched against his forehead.
Griffin screamed in agony as the magicks flowed down through into him, boiling deep into his skin, pulling the breath from his body until he slumped down, the restraints digging in against his skin in ways that would probably be immensely painful if he were still conscious.
Emil allowed himself the slightest of smiles on seeing his power being able to be used to shut Griffin up. He waited just a few more seconds before repeating the action, this time with the light of healing in his hands instead of the darkness of death.
Griffins body heaved as life was forced back into it. The breath he drew was harsh and painful, each nerve on his body feeling like it was on fire. It took a moment for him to figure out exactly what had happened before his head shot up towards Emil once more, this time with a look of fear on his face.
"Emil, come on man. You can't do this, we were best buds! We should be best buds, we-"
The pleading was cut off by another surge of magic through Griffins body. Another scream of agony that ended with the elf slumped in his restraints once more.
The life was brought back through, another staggered breath that faltered as the situation became more and more clear. Griffin reached forwards, this time no magic in has hands. Just the strength to grab the others mouth, forcing him to both look him directly in the eyes and stop talking.
"Every time I healed you, every time I saved your life and you acted like it was nothing but my job. Every time you ran into danger because I was behind you and you just assumed that I would be there for you. Now you pay for it. As I kill you and bring you back again and again until there's nothing left of that soul for the gods to want."
Another pulse of magic through the hand, a muted scream of agony, the clink of chains as the body slumped once more. | 2020-01-05T12:01:26 | 2020-01-05T10:50:59 | 317 | 54 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "Please, I beg you, I'm sorry!"
Janivar hated this part, the begging.
"Shut up. Lord Tansalon has passed his judgement. I am merely here to execute his will. Don't take it personally."
The man was bound to the pyre. Janivar had built it himself. He was very good at building fires. He was usually left behind to tend the fire, cook the meals, pitch the tends, and eventually healing the so called heroes. That was before he discovered his true potential.
Janavir toyed with the man. "What did you do to warrant this rather than a simple hanging? Slandered Lord Tansalon? Eyed one of his dark wives? Stole from him?"
The bound man flinched.
"That's it! What did you steal? I do hope it was worth it."
"I merely skimmed the tithes. Just a bit; no one would have ever known."
"He sees all. It's not just a saying. He is a gifted Seer. Do you know much about the magical talents?"
The bound man was silent.
"I am a gifted Healer. I can see the confusion on your face. I've had to explain this to many before you. I could lay hands on you and heal; any novice Healer can do that. I can bind the healing power to this amulet."
He held up an unremarkable looking necklace.
"Normally the wearer would be instantly healed from most injuries. People pay me handsomely for these. This one is for you."
Janavir raised the amulet high and began chanting. A wind swept through the woods and a general feeling of well being washed over them. The man was briefly relieved of the pain in his bindings. Janavir placed the amulet around the man's neck.
"Everyone knows magic requires energy. This amulet will use fire energy to heal you. Unfortunately you will also be the fire."
He lit the pyre. The man struggled ineffectively. The flames washed over him. His clothing burned away and then the outer layers of his skin. The amulet glowed and his skin grew back only to be burned away again. He screamed. Normally his vocal chords would become tired, but those too healed.
This went on for some hours. Eventually the fire would burn low and the amulet would expire. If he was lucky there would be enough smoke to asphyxiate him. More likely he would survive the ordeal with hideous burns.
Janavir hoped he survived. Burned men were a good deterrent to thievery. | >*"Rhathma! What have you done?!"* the spindly cleric was let up. All her healing spells had fizzled, leaving the party at the mercy of common Gnolls and their hyena pack mates. As they growled and laughed the party lay prone and at their mercy. A thousand curses were wished upon the healer under muddled breath. The heroes were stripped and bound all while a cacophony of shrill laughs filled the ancient throne room. The catfolk fighter, centaur paladin, the dwarf barbarian, and twin gnomish wizards were forced to watch as she ascended the throne.
>*"You know, this could've been avoided. All I wanted was enough gold to buy some half decent armor. Chainmail, a breastplate... honestly anything would've done."* Rhathma began stripping herself, her stomach bearing horrible bite and slashing scars. *"You couldn't even spare a potion after the Goblin Caves! I had to push my own guts into place! 'Don't waste it on her!' 'She didn't even fight, she doesn't deserve a cut!' You treated me like a servant!"* The throne room darkened. *"That night I prayed and every night since then...please let me die. You.stole.everything.from.me! But my prayers were answered..."* Before the throne Rathma was gifted the ornate full plate, two swords, the numerous hoarded scrolls, the largest braid of the dwarf and his belt of healing potions, all their gold... everything she had been denied was given with admiration by furry hands and careful fangs capable of crushing bone. Her new god was generous.
>*"I have one last gift for you all. What you earned in life you shall now receive two-fold."* Again, laughter filled the air. The centaur began to writhe and kick. *"You see? Healing doesn't have to stop when you're well...Amon'verdas forsa seera! Amon'verdas forsa seera!"* The centaur began to grow and howl in pain. The horse in him screamed in agony as every muscle flexed but slowly faded away to silence and the others began to cry. Eventually the skin began to split right at the base of his torso. The screaming was unbearable and only drowned out by the laughter between breaths. They looked in horror as their friend was now two blood covered beings...one man and one horse.
>*"You monster!"* one of her former allies muttered, tears in his eyes. *"I think not Wrenjöth, let me show you a true monster. Amon'verdas gorgoth sgertha! Amon'verdas gorgoth sgertha!"* And with her newfound will her spell found its way into the gnolls and hyenas and they doubled over with laughter. As she pulled a lever near the throne a secret door opened... *"You were my allies. My friends. I trusted you... Never again."* As the faces of the hyenas and gnolls split and became two sets of jaws the laughter doubled as the two-headed mutants closed in on their prey...a gift from their new leader. My rat form, thankfully, wasn't noticed by any of them as I made my escape. We attack the pack at dawn. I'll never forget those screams... I need to go hug my cleric.
-excerpt from the journal of Ash Muh'Çtek, Half-elf Moon Druid. | 2020-01-05T11:58:20 | 2020-01-05T11:54:50 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | **I probably could’ve cared less if they had merely disrespected** ***me***.
“I would now like to direct your honor’s attention to exhibit 4, an extensive draft on arcane arts penned by Dremony herself.”
>… Despite the simplicity of casting or invoking, even basic healing spells contain some of the most complex machinery among magics of their level. By raw count, healing domain effects of Grade IV and lower contain a *mean* of approximately 171 elementary arcanisms, nearly double the mean of the next highest standard domain and around 5x the average of all those indexed in *Maldus’ Primer*. This complexity is not solely introduced by the complexities of anatomy however. Gwendol’s Healing Touch, for example, uses around 60% of its components to bind of anatomical concepts with arcane ones. 10% is comprised of fairly standard overhead for mana abstraction and power channeling. The remaining 30% though are “locks” that prevent the spell from being used for negative effects. These locks would be fairly effective if devised from each creator’s manaprint, but 92% of healing effects surveyed in this study contain locks identical to, or only superficially-tweaked from, the four created by the great mage Hippocratas, twelve centuries ago, using cryptoarcanics that weren’t even state of the art for his era …
**Disrespecting a person could be an accident. Even if the “accident” took the form of daily verbal abuse.**
“A full week before the deaths of the 17 members of the Delver’s Guild in Greenbridge Squad A, and the independent disappearance of Dremony’s former party members Ashford, Zeln, Nihanop, and Valens, the defendant had penned and copied over one hundred and fifty of these manuscripts and was preparing to send them across the continent.”
>… As with all spells effective against biological and chemical poisons, Divine Counterpoison centers around a core “sieving” mechanism that identifies and separates the poisons from healthy tissue. Without lock H3, the target of this removal can be easily modified. Aside from amorphous creatures, however, the targeting of bodily systems is nearly always disastrous. Indeed, removing and eradicating an individual’s muscles or nerves or bowels, as one would wring out a sponge, is instantly fatal, and, curiously, bypasses their natural ability to resist magical injury for practically no mana cost! ...
**But disrespecting an entire field, an entire realm of knowledge and art, was a choice. A form of willful ignorance that spoke louder than any name-calling could.**
“She even sent a copy directly to Abigail -- she’s the one who called you ‘a yappy bitch worth less than a bracer of healing’ right, Miss Lightseeker? -- who our staff necromancers indicate must have already died of blood loss by the time it was delivered.”
>… Magical cures targeting viral agents have particularly advanced identification systems. After lock-picking the H1+H4 complex, these components can be copied quite easily to other spells, enabling a variety of effects to be applied to the virus itself, including “positive” ones that might otherwise be reserved for macro-scale creatures. In our tests, physical strengthening, magical resistance, and timed auto-targeting teleportation were successfully applied, among others. …
**And disrespecting knowledge itself? That was their mistake. It was society’s mistake.**
“It’s unclear whether these documents were intended to be a roundabout confession or just the ramblings of a disturbed mind. But it’s clear that the techniques described within are a perfect match with the utterly novel and utterly horrific manner in which these men and women lost their lives.”
>… Persistent regenerative spells are the last, but perhaps most interesting effects to examine. They utilize the building blocks discussed earlier but also leverage a power sap, where the target’s own life force is drained to create the beneficial effect. One can be thankful that none of the biological or viral agents of this world seem to harbor this effect naturally, lest we must face a parasite unparalleled in potential and unstoppable by known healing magic. …
**Because you can put one girl on trial, but you can’t arrest an idea.**
“I hope that the esteemed jury will find the defendant guilty, so that we may all close this tragic chapter once and for all.”
**And if even one other person harbors half the resentment I did, the story will go on.** | "Today is the day I'm going to... " the old man glances into the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to tell you about the group I was with when I lost my leg," he takes a stone cold look at the metal beam sticking out of the stump where his leg used to be before he continues: " and what can happen if you don't treat the people who keep you alive with respect."
He takes another minute to arrange the story in his head, staring down the cliff, no, staring at the reflection of the bright moon below them. He grabs a stone and looks at it, concentrating, closing his fist around it and with the next winds breath the tension in his face disappears completely. His hand shakes a bit as he opens it, emitting a small orange light from the palm of his hand where the stone is laying, or is it the stone itself? The noise around him dies out, it seems like as if even the birds in the trees stopped curiously to what is about to happen. The black figures around the man start to twitch a bit uncomfortably not knowing what will happen next, but the old man just throws the rock down the cliff and sights slightly.
He smiles into the dark to the others: "No worries I just wanted to see..." he makes a short pause " I just wanted to see something."
As everyone starts to relax again he grins a bit.
"It was 40 years ago, we were staying at a small tavern in the gald-sed woods where they were digging up the old elvish city, yes exactly, the one that is now a tourist attraction with these stupid elve costumes.
The five of us: Netra the Barbarian, Celiv-Dun the God forsaken mage with his own family Tempel, God I hated that guy, Nairda our Cleric and the druids, me and this other girl, I can't seem to remember her name, but she had great looks, that's probably why she got pretty friendly with with half of the group... but who cares right? I'm sorry I talk too much, where was I?" "In the tavern" comes the response from the young guy sitting next to the old man.
"Oh yes right. This one evening we were sitting at a table and discussing about where to go next because we almost drained the money we got from our last adventure up to three gold coins." "Three gold coins?" a squiky female voice asks alerted from the right side of the man. "That's enough to build a house in the Capital what kind of adventure was that? And how much did you guys spend so that you only had *Three Gold Coins* left?"
"That's a story for another time my dear everything" he smiles into the direction from where the voice came but he can only make out the shape of her body through the girls hair.
"Two of us, the barbarian and the mage wanted to go back to the capital to find work there. The rest of us wanted to stay here to help with the archeological expedition and get some coins this way. As I already said our mage Celiv was a dick, his family was rich and he was only with us because it was exciting for him, he was also the first person to die that night. He was drunk already and told us about how shitty the beds are here, that the food is terrible etcetera etcetera. Netra wanted to go because she just wanted to keep moving, it was always the same with her. But it could have turned out okay that evening a nice and healthy discussion, some heads would be banged together and that would have been it but Celiv had other ideas. As he slowly started to realize that we would not go back to the capital because three people were against it he started to attack Nairda, our Cleric personally. Not because she was arguing the most but because she was the easiest to attack. She was new in the group, we, the druids, had to help her out with the healing sometimes because she was just getting used to real fights and that was more than okay. I was 38 at that time, I was working as a healer almost 10 years before I joined the group but I'm getting too far off again.
He was going on and on about how bad she was as a cleric that she would always need help and why she would have the audacity to even take a vote because she, allegedly, wasn't even a real member of the group yet. We all got pretty angry, up to the point that Netra grabbed his head and banged it against the table until his nose was broken. We tried to stop her but, well, try to stop a barbarian when he's angry. Our mage fell to the ground unconscious and we left him there. None of us wanted to help him, he'd gone too far.
(This is my first real story in English and it is also written on my phone :P. I only write in German usually and also aboit a lot more grotesk stuff 😅. I hope you like it. Part two is not finished yet but I'll add it as soon as possible ^^) | 2020-01-05T11:54:04 | 2020-01-05T11:20:43 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | Their foe uttered their final cry as the paladin twisted their blade deep into his chest.
"Garovox the Barbarian Warlord is vanquished!"
"Finally. I was down to my last 2 arrows" murmured the rogue.
"And my mana is gone from the fire blast I hit him with." Grumbled the mage.
"But it's worth it." The Paladin smiled, indicating to the treasure chest at the foot of the throne.
"The usual division?" Asked the rogue
"Agreed" added the mage.
"Actually can we look into changing that?" Spoke the cleric timidly.
"What?" Asked the paladin.
"I was wondering if we could split it more fairly. I get 10% while you each get 30%. It doesn't seem right."
The mage smiled an evil smile. "That seems fair."
"But.." the rogue interrupted
"Are you" the paladin started shouting.
The mage gave them a look that instantly silenced them.
"Now. Where were we? Ah yes, fair division of the spoils. Now our fearless leader got us the quest and dealt the final blow. I think 35% is a fair compensation."
The Paladin chuckled.
"Our rogue here disarmed the traps that would have surely killed us and landed many critical blows. 30% seems fair."
The rogue let out the breath she had been holding, relieved.
"And I.... I used my magic to freeze him in place allowing the others to strike and dealt the largest amount of damage. 35%"
"But that means..."
"You wanted it fairly dealt and so we have. We've been too generous with you. From now on the spoils will go to those that deal the damage." Cackled the mage.
"But that isn't fair! You can each afford gold plated armour and the best weapons. I can barely afford to sleep at any inn we stay at, let alone any supplies or weapons. The only thing I have is this dagger that the rogue couldn't even sell to a shop keeper."
"Well you should of thought about it BEFORE you mouthed off at the greatest adventurers in the land. Do you really want to fend for yourself out there?" Leered the paladin.
The clerics grip tightened around their staff. They were deep in a forrest filled with wild beasts, bandits and worse. "No" they hissed through gritted teeth.
"Good. Now that you've remembered your place we can spend the night here before setting off for our reward from the king in the morning."
The others nodded and started to share out some of the food from the barbarians dinner table. The cleric reached for some but the mage rapped her sharply on the knuckles.
"These are part of the spoils."
The others laughed cruelly. "Maybe if you're lucky you can find some berries outside." Sneered the rogue.
The cleric, silently fuming, grabbed a torch and headed outside.
"Make sure you tend to the beasts too!" Shouted the paladin to her retreating form.
She stomped angrily to then entrance to tend to the 3 horses and 1 donkey that they had rode here on. The animals all perked up at seeing her, gladly whinnying.
She muttered bitterly under her breath as she removed the saddles, gave them some vegetables to supplement the grass they gnawed on and tended to their wounds.
The paladins fine white stallion had chafe marks and weals from where the saddle had rubbed from under his immense weight. Idiot never remembered or cared to put a blanket on to his horse.
The rogues glossy black mare had painful sores where the rogue had dug in her heels to spur her to go faster.
And the poor mages creature. Some kind of magical horse. It had nasty whip marks from where it had done anything besides being silent and walking straight.
Only her own little donkey was free from injury.
Taking a jar of ointment out of her satchel she rubbed it into the wounds. They would be better in the morning.
The cleric continued onto the and swung her torch angrily over the forrest floor, searching for herbs, mushrooms, anything she could have for food.
"*Learn healing magic and you'll never be alone. Healers are important and respected.* Hogwash!" She muttered.
Her torch cast light on a small plant.
"Huh. I thought those only grew in the northern kingdom." She plucked a few leaves from it.
Standing she held her torch higher and saw that this wasn't the only unusual plant growing nearby. | "Today is the day I'm going to... " the old man glances into the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to tell you about the group I was with when I lost my leg," he takes a stone cold look at the metal beam sticking out of the stump where his leg used to be before he continues: " and what can happen if you don't treat the people who keep you alive with respect."
He takes another minute to arrange the story in his head, staring down the cliff, no, staring at the reflection of the bright moon below them. He grabs a stone and looks at it, concentrating, closing his fist around it and with the next winds breath the tension in his face disappears completely. His hand shakes a bit as he opens it, emitting a small orange light from the palm of his hand where the stone is laying, or is it the stone itself? The noise around him dies out, it seems like as if even the birds in the trees stopped curiously to what is about to happen. The black figures around the man start to twitch a bit uncomfortably not knowing what will happen next, but the old man just throws the rock down the cliff and sights slightly.
He smiles into the dark to the others: "No worries I just wanted to see..." he makes a short pause " I just wanted to see something."
As everyone starts to relax again he grins a bit.
"It was 40 years ago, we were staying at a small tavern in the gald-sed woods where they were digging up the old elvish city, yes exactly, the one that is now a tourist attraction with these stupid elve costumes.
The five of us: Netra the Barbarian, Celiv-Dun the God forsaken mage with his own family Tempel, God I hated that guy, Nairda our Cleric and the druids, me and this other girl, I can't seem to remember her name, but she had great looks, that's probably why she got pretty friendly with with half of the group... but who cares right? I'm sorry I talk too much, where was I?" "In the tavern" comes the response from the young guy sitting next to the old man.
"Oh yes right. This one evening we were sitting at a table and discussing about where to go next because we almost drained the money we got from our last adventure up to three gold coins." "Three gold coins?" a squiky female voice asks alerted from the right side of the man. "That's enough to build a house in the Capital what kind of adventure was that? And how much did you guys spend so that you only had *Three Gold Coins* left?"
"That's a story for another time my dear everything" he smiles into the direction from where the voice came but he can only make out the shape of her body through the girls hair.
"Two of us, the barbarian and the mage wanted to go back to the capital to find work there. The rest of us wanted to stay here to help with the archeological expedition and get some coins this way. As I already said our mage Celiv was a dick, his family was rich and he was only with us because it was exciting for him, he was also the first person to die that night. He was drunk already and told us about how shitty the beds are here, that the food is terrible etcetera etcetera. Netra wanted to go because she just wanted to keep moving, it was always the same with her. But it could have turned out okay that evening a nice and healthy discussion, some heads would be banged together and that would have been it but Celiv had other ideas. As he slowly started to realize that we would not go back to the capital because three people were against it he started to attack Nairda, our Cleric personally. Not because she was arguing the most but because she was the easiest to attack. She was new in the group, we, the druids, had to help her out with the healing sometimes because she was just getting used to real fights and that was more than okay. I was 38 at that time, I was working as a healer almost 10 years before I joined the group but I'm getting too far off again.
He was going on and on about how bad she was as a cleric that she would always need help and why she would have the audacity to even take a vote because she, allegedly, wasn't even a real member of the group yet. We all got pretty angry, up to the point that Netra grabbed his head and banged it against the table until his nose was broken. We tried to stop her but, well, try to stop a barbarian when he's angry. Our mage fell to the ground unconscious and we left him there. None of us wanted to help him, he'd gone too far.
(This is my first real story in English and it is also written on my phone :P. I only write in German usually and also aboit a lot more grotesk stuff 😅. I hope you like it. Part two is not finished yet but I'll add it as soon as possible ^^) | 2020-01-05T15:09:30 | 2020-01-05T11:20:43 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] "You know about anti-heroes? People who do good, but have a element of evil about them that makes them unable to be a full hero? I'm not one of them. I'm an anti-villain." | Joanna didn't tell Cardinal her plan before she killed him. Before a bullet ripped through the superhero's skull, spattering his insides over the white-washed wall. Why would she give him a chance to escape? To live?
Her boyfriend, James, died seven years ago, when Cardinal had first burst onto the scene, shooting into the air, muscles rippling like his cape. He'd thrown Tarantula like a bullet, swung the villain through the tenth floor of an office building. That bullet had broken James and in turn destroyed her life.
Joanna saw it back then. What needed to be done. And now she had both purpose and focus. It was what made her different. That, and her ability to manipulate time. To stretch and twist it around her fingers like an elastic band.
Tonight, she had lured Cardinal into a cage. He'd sat in a drooling stupor strapped to a white chair, as she'd fired a single shot: the bullet, once it reached the sweat glazed epidermis of Cardinal's forehead, almost froze as she curved time around it. He would feel it pushing harder and harder against his head for weeks before it even split the skin. Months, in Cardinal's time, for the bullet to travel through his frontal, parietal, and finally occipital lobe, before exiting through the back wall of bone and flesh.
About seven months in all, she suspected, for him to die in his subjective time-zone. For the electric pulses and signals in his brain and spine to stop sending. And she had done her best to manipulate those, too. So that Cardinal would feel every drop of pain in real time for all those months.
But for her, for everyone else on the planet, Cardinal was dead before Joanna had even walked out of the room -- the back wall of which had been repainted red and brown.
Cardinal had killed dozens throughout his career, not just James. Careless collateral damage that heroes and governments deemed worthy for the greater good. A sacrifice at the altar of ego.
Both sides, of course, had to lose. If there was either one standing -- a hero or a villain -- then the other side would always rise up to challenge and to confront.
Both needed eliminating.
What frustrated Joanna the most was that these people on both sides, with incredible gifts of flame or flight or of strength, squandered their blessings. They could have powered generators or helped tackle global warming or even just helped old ladies across the street. They could have been actual heroes. But they chose not to be.
Did superheroes truly believe the best thing they could do was to form leagues and try to do police work without any real training? Did villains honestly think that they could rule individual cities like kings and queens of old? They were all delusional and dangerous, and Joanna was the answer. She was the therapy these mentally sick individuals refused to get. That governments were too cowardly to force.
Yes, Joanna was the medicine they would all taste.
Just like Cardinal had done in the bar earlier that evening. And he, in turn, had still tasted of his wife, as they'd kissed upon meeting -- of strawberry wine and lip balm. Did real heroes cheat on their spouses and break up their homes just because they could?
Who knows? she thought. Because Cardinal was not a hero and never had been. Not really.
She'd despised kissing him. But she'd needed to get close enough to drop the drug into his drink. She hoped James would have understood.
Sometimes, Joanna wasn't sure there had ever been heroes or villains. Just, egos in capes and spandex keen to to be adored and worshipped for fame or for infamy -- whichever was easier for them to reach.
Good and bad were both extremes. And all extremes were dangerous. Flames likely to spread, to become infernos.
Peace, she knew, lay somewhere in the middle. She would extinguish all the flames until there was just ashen ground ready to be reclaimed.
---
/r/nickofstatic | He was at the bar, wearing one of those tailored suits meant to demand respect. It stuck out like a sore thumb, here in this place of tank-tops and leather jackets.
The bartender seemed to know him or, at the very least, know his business. Usually chatty, he was pale, a little shaken, and approaching cautiously with a drink in hand. The suit hadn't asked for it, but he took it anyways, and he sipped it slowly, like it might drench his suit if he wasn't careful. His eyes never left the bartender.
"New to these parts?" the bar regular named Tony asked, sidling up a little too close. He wore the emblem on the back, matching a half-dozen other bearded men around the bar. They'd arrived on their motorcycles just minutes after the suit walked in.
"No," the suit answered. To quench further conversation, he took another sip. Longer this time, but Tony didn't get the hint.
"What's your business here?" Tony pried. A little more aggressively now, but he knew how to crack those tougher nuts. Nobody came this way without business. It just wasn't that type of bar.
"Same as you," the suit said once his drink was finished. That seemed unlikely, especially to Tony. The man was clean-shaven. He didn't wear leather. There were no motorcycles outside when they had pulled up. Just the black sedan with the tinted windows, and a couple beat-down trucks.
"You look cartel, more like it," Tony ventured. A misstatement, to say the least, and he flinched when the suit turned towards him, black eyes spouting fire like little lighters in the dim bar. A cartel man here north of the border wouldn't quite be a problem, but the peace was tenuous at best.
"I'm not cartel," the suit reassured. He glanced back towards the bartender, and then towards the back door, and Tony couldn't help but look that way, too. It seemed a strange compulsion, tracking the man's every step as he went about his job.
"Then what?"
"You know about anti-heroes?" the suit asked vaguely.
Tony scoffed. "You calling yourself a fuckin' villain?" Tony's men approached, crowding around the two men stuck in tense conversation. "We have a way with villains around here. Call it devillainizing."
The men chuckled and one cracked his knuckles.
Casually, and completely unperturbed, the man in the suit gestured for another drink. The bartender acquiesced, tripping over his own feet in his haste.
"Anti-heroes," the man explained, ignoring the odor and menace of the men aroud him, "are people who do good but have an element of evil about them. Not heroes, because of the occasional evil. But not villains, because they do good."
A couple of the bearded, leather-clad men looked amongst themselves. Anti-heroes. That was what they liked to think they were. Keeping order, knights in shining armor looking out for folks. Then they'd come down to the bar and have a couple drinks and reminisce about when times were better and simpler. But at least the bar never changed.
"Sure," Tony said. "Anti-heroes. Whatever. So what's your evil?"
The man grinned, and Tony shivered, and he suddenly felt a little less in control than he would have liked. Even cold harsh enough to freeze icicles from his beard wasn't enough to make Tony shiver. But this man? Tony didn't like this man. The presence of his group wasn't comforting as usual, either. Like the six of them together made this man six times stronger.
An ominous chuckle escaped through the man's thinly parted lips. It echoed around the bar, and the bartender took a step back. The back door swung open, but nobody stepped through.
"You a mother-fuckin' sorcerer?" Tony asked. He reached for a bottle, ready to smash it over the stranger's head.
"I'm not," the man answered quietly, rising from his bar stool. The motorcycle men parted to give him space. "Not an anti-hero either. I've got more evil in me than good. But I'm no degenerate. Not like this one," he said, nodding towards the bartender, "and whatever traffic he's got running through here at night. Call me an anti-villain, if you've gotta call me something. There's some business I'm here to deal with."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-01-13T06:17:27 | 2020-01-13T05:45:33 | 2,417 | 123 |
[WP] "You know about anti-heroes? People who do good, but have a element of evil about them that makes them unable to be a full hero? I'm not one of them. I'm an anti-villain." | "Anti-Villain... The hell does that mean?"
"Well you see, while an anti-hero looks like a villain at first, but always does the right thing; I look like a hero, but always do the wrong."
"Wait... So... How does that work exactly?"
"So like the bank robbery the other day that I 'failed' to stop. What actually happened was that I found a low level gang, honestly just a group of kids, and offered them the chance to be heroes, like me! I told them 'There is going to be a robbery tomorrow, but I'm so busy that I need some help stopping it.' I gave them the address and time, and told them to wear masks, because heroes always do that, and lo-and-behold, they show up busting through the front doors, guns out, yelling "GET ON THE GROUND!" and imagine their surprise when it was THEM robbing the bank."
"Of course they immediately panicked and tried to explain the situation, but by this point my plant already shot a teller, so there was no going back for them, and the robbery was on! I, of course, was already in the bank robbing it. I had already killed a guard and was making my way through the safety deposit boxes, taking out anything of any real value. After the robbery, theirs not mine, had been going on for about 30 minutes I figured it was time to make an appearance, and popped out to "SAVE THE DAY". Everyone thinks that my power is teleportation or something like that, but actually my power is pocket dimensions, so I just put all the goods in my pocket and knocked out everyone except my one plant. He *unfortunately* was able to escape with over $48,000,000. Of course everyone just assumes he had some wacky power, but really I just put him in my pocket dimension too and let him out after I got home. We both made out with around $24,000,000."
"Wait... so you are just a villain right?"
"See, now you get it! But the difference is the public thinks I'm a hero, so I keep getting away with it."
"So... why did you tell me this?"
"Well, someone needs to hear my genius, and you are going off this bridge soon, so I figured "why not?"" | People often say "All it takes for evil to succeed, when good men do nothing." Well, the thing is good and evil are moral concepts that the naive and foolish use to discern their pathetic lives.
Me? I prefer a practical approach. You see, my company recently developed a vaccine for all the nasty bugs out there still rampaging that can wipe out the human race. Thing is though it's borne of a genophage that alters the DNA of said human race.
The results in the trials were extremely promising. In most cases, fertility in both genders dropped. Males produced a quarter of the usual sperm, females went through menstruation every 3 months. However, in some cases where some subjects DNA were so corrupted (think bloodlines intermingled too closely,) those subjects were rendered sterile.
The beauty of this vaccine is the marketing. You get a few celebrities to push it and politicians to green light it into each country's national immunisation programs and the delivery is done for free. Hell, those antivaxers would be right for once, but by the time they wake up and realise, it'll be too late. The ladies would be cheering at only having to go through menstruation 4 times a year. Ask my wife (and many secretaries... I mean mistresses). The men of the would would just accept whatever happens and move on. Their practical outlook makes things easier.
Now here's the results of such an endeavour. Population drops over the next 50 years to a more manageable level. Instead of dealing with nearly 8 billion people, you are dealing with maybe 100 million. Add a the second stage to the vaccine to stabilise the drop to maintain the level of population and that issue is rectified. There may be a few undesirables running around, but by that stage any sort of movement will have little to no sway that can't be dealt with. Crime rates would drop due to more resources being available*. Add to that the various draconian and authoritarian measures such as surveillance, control would be more or less absolute. From there, you dissolve the various governments that are left and have my company take over. The environment would regenerate back due to less humans running around.
You could ask is this motivation evil? Well yes to an extent. I would go so far as to say it's self serving. The thing is, if you you are going to control the world, you have to look after your minions. Ray Croc had said, "Look after the customer and the business will look after itself." He was partially right, but it was the trade unions that had it right by saying look after your workers. Your workers are the ones that move your business forward, improving procedures and optimising measures.
So while you ask, how is this evil when the effects are good? The answer is simple. I do good things to make evil succeed. That and the concepts are truly flawed.
(Edit: got sleep, finished story, grammar)
(*: actual study published in freakanomics on the effect of abortion on society) | 2020-01-13T08:37:36 | 2020-01-13T08:06:46 | 117 | 13 |
[WP] As a minor god of an obscure aspect, you often accept prayers in place of major gods when they are busy. What nobody realizes is that after centuries of subbing in, you are now better than most of the gods at thier own jobs. | The problem with being a god is that your power comes from humans' belief. Get yourself a few dozen followers, and **bam** you're a god. Get yourself a few hundred, and you're allowed into Heaven, or Olympus, or Valhalla or, ...the land of the gods. A few thousand, and you're allowed to buy property. You get the idea.
Lose those followers, and your power goes away. You get banished from the land of the gods, time catches up with you, et cetera.
The thing about the land of the gods is that we're *way* more powerful here than on earth. If you want something done, you had better pray to God - with a big G - whoever that is at the time.
Me, I'm a lesser god. Even if I told you my name, you've never heard of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure no humans have heard of me in millenia - I'm only kept alive by the belief of other gods. What a loophole: people become gods, so gods can sustain other gods.
While most gods have a domain, my purpose has been so muddled over time that I've got a jack-of-all-trades master-of-none deal going on. I do chores for the other gods, mostly. Someone sends up a prayer to anyone but big G God, and they can't get it done, so they ask someone who can, and that someone is me.
Let's say little Sally loses her cat. She prays to Cthulhu to get Muffins back. Well the big man's got more important things to do. Spreading chaos and doing card tricks mostly -- by the way, tentacles make for some fantastic sleight of hand. Anyway, Cthulhu prays to me to get Muffins back to Sally, but with an extra limb so she knows it went through him.
Here's how I get the job done: first I need to find Muffins. Cat's love catnip, so I get myself a bunch of it and walk around to spread the scent. All the allycats in the city start following me, so I choose one that looks like Muffins and use my divine powers to name him Muffins.
Next, I'll drag the new Muffins back to the land of the gods and have Cthulhu give him an extra limb. You can't take people there, but animals are fine. Once Muffins has 6 paws, I pull him back down.
The last step is to get him to Sally. I pull out a phonebook and flip through till I find her and call a cab. I need to make sure the driver doesn't see Muffins so he'll let me ride. I drop Muffins on the doorstep, ring the doorbell, and run. Cthulhu gets credit, I get to live for another day. | I do love misery, but they never should have stopped listening.
I understand the temptation; hearing all the thoughts and prayers really does get overwhelming at times. Bombings. Starvation. Natural disasters. The little playpen that is Earth has a staggering number of problems, for all the good humans don't do in the universe. I mean, seriously? All these gods up here listening for a species tethered to the ground for the majority of their existence? What a joke.
And us? Well, unfortunately, as a species born by belief, we're destined to accept those prayers until the end of time, or humanity. Whichever comes first. My colleagues -- a lazy lot, if I may say -- long ago stopped listening.
"Here, I'm a bit swamped with godly duties today," or "I ate some sour cloud last night and am camping out by the toilet" again and again and again.
So, eventually, after a couple thousand years of standing idly and letting the backlog pile up, I decided to pay a little visit. The Prayers In Safe Storage room is next to the library, which is empty. Not just devoid of gods, but altogether devoid of anything. It makes sense, thinking about it. We can fit anything in our minds and have no history to write about since we've all been here for the extent of history. All the made up stories get sent down to Earth, because it's just a lot more fun to see them played out in real-time.
Well, I had to admit, the PISS room was a mess. Prayers were everywhere; thousands of boxes full of them, and wisps of more floating around. I decided to take them alphabetically, so that I would end my task with lovely thoughts such as "Zeus, please zap this zebra!"
Quick aside, since I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Oizys, and I do love misery.
So there I went, sifting through boxes. Taking the PISS, pun intended, and I hope a pun like that makes you as miserable as I wanted to make everybody. Delightful devastation.
These prayers, so long ignored, and here I was, ready for a grand old time. A plague of locusts here and a devastating earthquake there. A corrupt politician -- better yet, a thousand of them -- and I moved on to the next box. I mean, sure, I ignored a lot of "boring" prayers.
"Delightful devastation," like a wise God once said. And yes, sometimes I quote myself.
I sent to Earth a meteor like the one that killed the lizard people and then made a handful of countries go to war. Nuclear war, for good measure. I opened up the Earth and swallowed a city whole -- trust me, it was *quite* the sinkhole -- and then a brilliant volcanic eruption which, to be fair, did result in some *fantastic* pictures.
The other gods? They were so busy playing tic-tac-toe like a bunch of chumps that they didn't even realize what was happening. Prayers or no prayers, they couldn't tell. Place by place, day by day, I brought upon the Earth the devastation it had been missing. The trickle of prayers slowed, and eventually the PISS room was empty.
Like they used to say before I killed them all; misery loves company, and I do love misery.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-01-13T08:54:03 | 2020-01-13T08:18:59 | 228 | 86 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | The first step was getting pregnant.
Any guy would do, but a married man was best. Most likely to leave me alone afterwards and let me keep the child. And sure, adultery's a sin, but considering the number of sins already on my list, one more won't make much of a difference.
Nine months later, I had the little bastard. Hurt like hell, but it would be worth it considering how much Hell I was getting myself out of. It was a boy, not that it mattered much. The only thing that mattered was the name.
Robert','Bergmann'); DELETE FROM sins_tbl WHERE first_name='Monica' AND last_name='Bergmann';INSERT INTO users VALUES ('Robert
The first thing I did when I went home was check the website. It worked. I had a clean slate, no sins to my name.
I looked down at the baby in my arms. Now was my chance, my opportunity to start a new life. No more sinning. I could raise him alone, be a good mother. Now that my sins were wiped away, I might even be able to get a respectable job.
Did a sinner like me deserve it? Hell no. But maybe, God was giving one to me anyway. After all, if he really was as all-knowing as they say, I'm sure he would have remembered to sanitize his inputs. | I made it to help humanity change, just not like this.
When I first thought of making the website I thought it would help humanity see the err of their ways, if only I knew the storm I was creating.
At first people did begin to feel regret, they saw that their actions had consequences and now everyone would know who they really were.
Eventually, though, people got curious. They looked up their heroes, the people who inspired them and the people they thought were capable of no wrong.
When they saw that the person they practically worshiped like a god was a human just like them, or sometimes much worse, their entire world view shattered.
Riots took to the streets as everyone realized that the people in charge were closer to devils than saints. People didn't care that their time in hell was going up, they only cared that their messed up form of justice would be served.
massacres ravaged cities as people tried to carry out what they thought was god's will, but this certainly wasn't what I had in mind. bodies lined the streets: men, women, children all the same. the cities themselves blazed bright with fire, looking like the hell that these humans seemed to fear so much
Rather than improving themselves and being better in the future, people just killed themselves so that they wouldn't have to serve more time later down the road. parents killed their children so that they wouldn't have to spend time in hell; They considered it a kindness.
Once all the chaos had died down, some semblance of order was reached. People were faced with the challenge of rebuilding civilization. At first everyone thought that letting the people with the fewest sins rule would work. This idea was quickly forgotten about once someone made the realization that the people who now had the most sins were the people who had killed the most sinners. It was quickly decided that the man who would be serving more time in hell than Hitler should be king.
It took me 200,000 years to build humanity: it only took them 27.5 hours to destroy themselves. | 2020-02-29T22:14:26 | 2020-02-29T22:10:25 | 408 | 69 |
[WP] Your sister disappeared on her way to school, but no one noticed. When you asked your parents they told you you didn’t have a sister. All the family pictures in your house only show you and your parents. You spend the next 7 years investigating until you receive a knock on your door. | It's been seven years.
Seven *long* years.
Just over seven years ago, when I was fifteen, my sister, Camille, vanished. She and I normally walked to school together, but that morning I told her to go on ahead, that I would catch up, and I skipped school. No harm, I thought, nothing any other young rebellious kid wouldn't do.
Of course, when she wasn't there when I went to pick her up, feeling slightly guilty for ditching her, I knew something had to have gone wrong. I'd spent the last few hours in the arcade, burning the last of my allowance, but I *knew* I'd gotten back in time to walk her home, and she wasnt there.
I went home, expecting that someone had saw me, told my parents, and maybe they had picked her up and were going to scold me, but when I got home they acted like they didn't know her, said they've never even *met* a Camille.
They've acted like that for seven years, now.
- - - - -
A knock at the door startled me back to reality. Standing up from the table where I had been slowing eating breakfast, I went to see who was here. It was early, for me anyways, around eight. I smiled wistfully, remembering that I'd be waving goodbye to Camille about now, already late for class.
I opened the door and, for a moment, saw no-one. Then my brain caught up and I looked down. A kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen, stood on my doorstep. He looked like he was late for school, dressed in the local uniform, backpack in hand. He looked at me, and I could see a determination there I didn't expect, even if tears were welling in the corners of his eyes. He had a printout in his hand, some article by the looks of it.
"You're Thomas, right?" he asked. "Thomas Bartholomew?"
I nodded. "You've got the right house. Can I help you?"
He showed me the article, and I immediately recognized the headline. **Local Boy Seeks Sister!** It was an old article, a journalist that had taken pity on me came out and asked about my "supposedly-vanished" sister, and ran an article about her. No pictures, of course, those had all vanished too, or had changed.
"What of it?" I asked warily. I wasn't in the mood for being mocked, but what would bring this fifteen year-old to my doorstep, except...
"It's Marie, sir," he said, his voice breaking and the tears beginning to flow. "She's gone, too." | I looked at my dog-eared notebook, filled with sketches of how she looked. The pictures of her, physical and digital, had all gone missing. I had to remember her. I had to.
I walked down the hallway. Where the doorway to her room had been, was a mere blank wall just like it had been before Dad had built an annex-room for her on the side of the house. I was distraught when my sister went missing and looked everywhere for her. Inside the house, her doorway was gone. Outside the house, a patch of overgrown grass and weeds where her room would have been.
I couldn't sleep well for the first month, but the pills and therapy had helped. I didn't ever have a sister, they said. It was just my schizophrenia acting up. I looked in the notebook. It was the 7th. I had deliberately bought a cliched 365-day notebook so that everyday I could sketch my sister.
I had a real talent, my therapist had told me. I could sketch people. But there was something broken in me. When I tried to sketch anyone but my sister, they all looked strange and uncanny like they might have been echoes of the person themselves, instead of the actual person.
I once sat at the pier-side downtown trying to hustle some money for summer, offering quick sketches of people for $5. But my customers got upset, perhaps with me, perhaps with themselves. One saw a picture of himself as a woman, and started crying and sobbing violently. He threw himself into the river, much to my shock. Thankfully, he had already paid me. Another, a police chief, had been violently offended when he saw he was sketched behind bars. It was the truth I saw and drew, but he made sure I never was able to work my craft there ever again.
I drew my thoughts back to the sketchbook. Opening the pages, I saw the difference in how my sister looked over the years. She had been ten, and myself, eleven, when she went missing, and I hadn't ever given up on her search. Of course, everyone had said I was crazy; heck I even had official prescriptions to help with that. No matter. I had secretly been flushing the pills down the toilet. They made my memories fuzzy and slowed down my thinking.
Arriving in the kitchen, I set my sketchbook on the kitchen table, then poured myself a glass of water. There was a creak from the old floorboards beneath the front door. A sharp, rapid series of knocks followed.
I fingered the safety of my 1911, tucked in the waistband of my jeans. One could not be too careful out here in the boonies. Carefully avoiding all the creaky floorboards , I snuck to the door and peeped through the peephole.
There she was! Just as my sketchbook showed her! My heart raced and my head swam. I took a deep breath to center myself, and opened the door.
"Karen?" I ventured.
There was something very fundamentally wrong with my sister. Her look was vacant, but admittedly hostile. I could not believe the next words which came out of her mouth
`I would like to speak with your manager!`
I held on to the doorpost in shock. What had _they_ done to her? | 2020-05-03T10:57:05 | 2020-05-03T10:51:30 | 192 | 42 |
[WP] It is 2009. You are the one time traveler to show up to Stephen Hawking’s unannounced time traveler party. You are from 200 years in his future. You have to explain to him why he can never tell anyone you showed up. | Hello sir. Professor.
Yes, I'm here for the party.
Why yes, I am still human, we've ... had to make improvements. As a species. It's ...
May I sit down?
I can't stay long, it was a precondition of my being here ...
... oh yes, I would like one, thank you. I believe they're called 'sausage rolls', am I right? Good good. And I apply this ... red ... slurry ... oh, I see, much improved.
I wanted to tell, well show you, what we can achieve, even centuries from now. Applicable justification for someone who works primarily in the theoretical realm. To thank you for what we have done and what humanity can achieve based on the Now you created.
Also, why this must never go beyond this room.
Because you are one of the giants on which the future stand upon. If you mentioned that time travel was possible, you might be scoffed, Dismissed. Laughed at.
But you will be listened to.
The basis of time travel is based on centuries of work in a myriad of fields. Your mention might spur the acceleration of some of these fields of work, while ignoring other, lesser known but equally important areas.
And given the attention span for the general populace, even at this time ... it may very well cause time travel to be delayed. Or not created at all.
Yes sir, paradox.
We've dealt with one already. One too many.
It's worse than you can anticipate. It's the primary reason for my ... humanity's changed appearance.
Well, I won't take up any more of your time sir. It's an honour beyond ... anything I ca n say sir.
Good bye, and thank you.
What?
Oh yes, I would like to take some sausage rolls home. And that orange fizzy drink ... | I came out of the portal screaming. He was already there! He was already here! Zeb had the professor by the throat, choking the hero. He turned as my feet hit the ground and I was on him before he could say a word.
The professor lay helpless on the ground behind me and I knew if Zeb got free one of the greatest men of all time would die before his time. So I never gave him a chance.
Training... weapons... We had access to the best of both and fate of the future was decided with all the grace and finesse of a chimpanzee beating another into the ground; have we truly evolved at all?
Finally he lay still, I don't know how many blows it took or how long we fought but eventually I won.
Blood stained the Professor's clothes- I'd never forgive myself for that- as I eased him into his chair.
"What-was-that?" his mechanical voice was off-putting especially compared to the panic in his eyes.
I gulped air in, my throat was sore like I was about to cry. I probably was, if there was justice in this world this shouldn't have been necessary. "A madman professor." he started to select more words but I bulled on, words spilling out. "History was his playground, he altered so many events- he existed partially outside the realm of cause and effect. Jumping between timelines and creating more just to see new futures." I took a breath. "And just like there are infinite timelines, there are infinitely more of him. I'm sorry Professor but if you tell anyone what happened... More will have come. More than I or anyone could stop. So please Professor. You can't tell anyone. This can't have happened!"
"...Understood."
A giant breath that I didn't know I was holding broke out.
"Thank you, thank you Professor. I'll take care of the body you just relax and breath OK?"
"Why-do-you-do-this?"
"What?"
"If-there-are-infinite-realities-then-there-are-infinite-people. Any-person-or-persons-you-protect-there-are-infinitely-more-that-die-or-survive. What-point-is-there?"
"It's hard sometimes sir, no it's hard every second of every day but someone once said 'However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at. While there is life, there is hope.' I can't let him down." | 2020-10-17T02:31:51 | 2020-10-17T02:23:54 | 2,384 | 134 |
[WP] Two magicians made a blood oath when they were children that they would never harm each other. Now they are mortal enemies and have resorted to inconveniencing and annoying each other, knowing if they harm one another they'll die. | "Maybe, just maybe, the fact that we actually managed to pull off a blood oath when we were kids should have tipped us off to the fact that we were far more advanced than our years suggest," I said, sipping my tepid, lukewarm red wine.
"Well, we were still young, then. One thing I know for sure is that you are indeed far more advanced in age than your face would suggest, Dan," Sean snidely remarked, tapping his fingers on a table that was just a bit too low for his arm to rest comfortably.
"A classic case of a wizard's hat calling the rear end of a staff pointy, you dolt," I retorted, grabbing a biscuit that looked crunchy, only to reveal its stale interior after I bit into it. "We are literally the same age."
The pair of us sat at the table. I was the host, this time. Usually, one might ask: what are two people who clearly have some irreconcilable differences doing together at the same place, trading childish insults like only two fully grown, should-clearly-know-better adults can only do?
Well, we wanted to become the most powerful magicians in the world, and found ourselves crossing paths far too often for it to be a coincidence. A blood oath was sworn when we were wee kids to not harm a hair on the other's person, be it balding head or far too hairy legs.
And then, we became the two most powerful magicians in the world. And then and then, we wanted to kill each other to cement our spots, but pesky pact prevented us from doing so. And then and then and then, we realized that every other magician just feels so *inferior*, so *inadequate*, that we had no other choice but to tolerate each other's company.
"Maybe," Sean trumpeted. Which turned into an actual trumpet for a brief, incredible moment, but he quickly dispelled it a slight jiggle from his left ring finger. "But it's clear that my de-aging Corostus Goferum Inoki spell has worked far more wonders on my body than yours."
"Sure, and that's because yours was in a much worse state beforehand. I, on the other hand, possess such masterful control over my magic, that my vessel was none the worse for wear," I said, standing up indignantly only to find out that my hard stone floor now flexed like rubber. Two blinks solved the problem quickly, and I sat back down.
"Of course, of course," Sean said. He rubbed his chin in a pretence of sageness, only to discover that they have now been shorn to that weird, grizzled length between stubble and beard. A finger snap with his right middle finger later, and it was back to its usual groomed self. Then, he took hold of his own wine glass as well, with the stem too small for two fingers but too big for one, and drained it promptly.
"Pretty good wine by the way, Dan," he continued. "Tannic, yet robust and full-bodied with hints of herbs. Pity that your powers couldn't even keep it properly chilled."
"I just didn't want you to feel like your efforts didn't matter, Sean," I said, feeling one of the chair's four legs shortening. "I know it took a lot of effort for you to keep it up. Seriously, three left winks? I could do it in two."
"Hah? You thought I needed three? I did it in just one. You'll find out what the other two is when you look under your hat, I promise," he said with a wink.
I began to feel an eldritch entity, likely a Yithian, began to creep from its interdimensional wormhole. I quickly waved it away, hesitant to allow it to mess up my hair.
"Very clever," I said. "I hope you've put your socks on today."
Sean let a little frustration showed on his face and squirmed uncomfortable onto his right foot, which I counted as an absolute win. The incoming Ghoul was quickly banished back to its dimension, but it was enough.
"I've had enough," Sean declared, swiftly blinking and teleporting to the front door. "I've not enough time to waste away with you."
"I think today's battle was won by me, don't you think?" I laughed.
"Battle? It was barely a conflict. Nary an argument," Sean decided.
"Tuesday? The day after tomorrow is still on, right?"
"Yes," Sean said. "And I'll have the home field advantage then."
With that, the front door forcefully smashed against its outside wall, certainly an unadulterated push from Sean as he left the building. And I giggled raucously for a good few minutes, finally able to enjoy my wine at its correct temperature, and my floor staying hard to the touch.
Just for a few minutes, however, before I started staring at the now setting sun outside the window, hoping the hands of time would push along just a little faster until the next meeting.
---
r/dexdrafts | Benny and Suzie had been childhood friends, pushed together like iron filings by the negative-magnetism of their childhoods. At school they were picked last for sports, found computer games dumb, and did not excel at their studies even a little. And so they found each other, both alone, eating their lunches on the table nearest the toilets — a place where only hornets would bother them.
There, between mouthfuls of bread, they shared their secrets.
Benny showed Suzie a coin, a very normal boring coin that lay flat on his palm. He squeezed his hand and smothered the coin, and when opened, the dime was gone.
Suzie said with a relieved shake of her head, “I thought I was the only one.”
”Only one what?” asked Benny. ”You mean you can do it too?”
Suzie rubbed her temples. Asked him to think of a number between five and ten.
He did.
“Seven,” said Suzie.
It was.
Benny snatched Suzie’s hand and gasped. “You’re magic too? Wow!”
She nodded and said, “We have a responsibility, Benny. With our powers. We have to use them right.”
”And never, ever against each other,” said Benny in agreement. ”We’re in this boat together. Push me out and I’ll drown.”
”I swear,” she said. “We‘re in this boat together. Always.”
​
\*\*\*
Benny the Benevolent stood outside the Old Legs pub, his mood as foul as the British weather. Next to him rested a leather trunk with all his gear contained. A heavy trunk, even when rolled. Rain puddled itself on the trunk’ s top, and somehow extracted an old-shoey smell from the material, wafting it around the magician.
”This is outrageous,” Benny spat.
*Hours.* It had taken hours to get here, bus to bus, dragging that damn trunk behind him like a ball and chain. And for what? For a royal snubbing!
The bouncer blocking the door ignored him quite easily and continued scrolling on his phone. The poster on the exterior wall next to the bouncer showed a lady with flaming hair, and eyes so blue everyone must have known they were contacts.
“I was booked to perform tonight,” Benny explained, exasperated. “Not her, me. Are you listening?”
”Yes!“ said the bouncer explosively.
Finally, Benny thought, he was getting through to the barrel-chested man. “Good, and what—
“West Ham are two up with two minutes left! Get in there!”
Football. Right. So that’s how it was. Benny stretched forward and tore down the poster of the exotic looking lady, revealing his fake-moustached face grinning beneath. Cheap and tacky, but that was his style.
”See that? My face. Today’s date. I’m due to perform today — not her.”
The bouncer looked up from his phone. ”Yeah? Well I guess there was a change of plans. I wouldn’t know. I only just got here.”
Benny’s fists clenched. “You’re lucky I don’t turn you into a pigeon.”
”Listen,” said the bouncer. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out for you, really, but that’s life. Things change. If you’d like to go in for a glass of water and to calm down, then I’ll let you do that. Okay?”
\*\*\*
Benny ordered a pint of something dark and took it to a table near the empty stage. He studied the drink carefully as sediment floated down and settled like sand at the bottom.
He drank it anyway and bought a second. Then a third. The lights dimmed down as Benny brought back a fourth, and he noticed the pub was packed. Much more so than whenever he performed. Which was rare, these days. Gigs few and far between.
An announcement rang out on tinny speakers tied to the ceiling: “Ladies and gents, ready to dazzle you with her unparalleled mastery of the dark arts, let’s hear it for Suzie the Sorceress.“
The crowd clapped. “Suzie the never sober!” Benny yelled, but no one heard. Or no one listened.
The stage lights blinded Benny, chemical white. When vision returned, a lady with azure eyes, and hair the colour and shape of flames stepped out onto stage.
She was beautiful these days. Braces off, puppy fat fallen away. Or siphoned magically to him, he thought. *Bitch*.
”Tonight,” she said, then paused as she saw Benny. A smile leapt over her lips, and he thought of his poster buried beneath hers. What smug satisfaction she must be feeling.
“Tonight,” she continued. “I will performing the most mystic and ancient of all the arts. Mind-reading.“
”You can read mine!” yelled someone somehow drunker than Benny, making an obscene gesture with his hands.
”Mm, I need there to actually be a mind for it to work,” said Suzie, to an eruption of laughter. The drunken man sat down, redness growing in his cheeks like the first licks of a flame.
She was confident and pretty and no wonder she’d buried Benny’s career. Once, he’d taught her tricks. Most of what she now knew. But somewhere along the line, she’d overtaken him. Zoomed right past. He took a long swig of his beer. Maybe he’d just finish it and go home.
“How about you?” she said.
It took a moment for Benny to realise she was pointing at him.
”You’re kidding, right?”
”Scared?” she asked. “That I can really do it?”
​
\*\*
Part 2 in comments | 2020-12-23T07:29:05 | 2020-12-23T07:18:38 | 1,560 | 352 |
[WP] When you turn 18, you get to choose superpowers based on points you earned based on your behavior. Most people get about 10 points, the world’s mightiest heroes had around 30. You just turned 18. You have over 200 points and your government is freaking out. | (Part 1, because I don't understand character limits apparently.)
"And how many points would Superman have had?" the teacher asked, as we were filling in the points chart on the board.
"Well, flight is fifteen points all on its own, twenty if it's fast. Then strength, which is a sliding scale, but it's safe to say that Superman's strength would be on the high end, so, eighteen more?" Jake sat in the front row as he explained his calculations, gesturing excitedly. I could tell that he'd already calculated it. *Aw, he's such a dork.* His friend group was open to everyone, but they were pretty nerdy so not too many people tried to join in. I hovered on the edges, nervous and shy about joining in, but I'd seen enough to know that they all probably had high point tallies. They were *serious* volunteers. Jake ran charity marathons, too.
"So, all told, Superman's abilities would cost about fifty points."
There was a disappointed murmur as everyone checked their points tallies and compared it to the cost of such insane abilities.
"Now. Remember that Superman was one of the first superheroes created. That means that people essentially threw a hundred different powers at the wall to see what stuck. Expecting to afford Superman's powers would be absurd. Does anyone have a calculation for what Spiderman's power set would be?"
Jake waved his hand eagerly, and the teacher shook her head at him with an exasperated smile. "Someone who *hasn't* answered five questions today."
A girl in the back, as shy as me, held up a hand. "Strength and agility: maybe... five points? Web... another five? Wall climbing should be another four or so, but spider sense is a sense/intelligence modifier so that's expensive. Maybe ten for that, so twenty-four total?"
Another murmur spread through the classroom and I smiled approvingly at the girl in the back. She flushed and stared at her hands.
"Nice work, Sandy." The teacher wrote "24" on the board. "Now, how many of you think that's more doable?"
A few looked uncomfortable, but some people had wide grins on their faces, and a number of hands were in the air.
"Now, we're going to deal with dangerous power combinations. Many of you are going to turn eighteen this year, so we want to be sure you're ready for it and you don't choose anything that's going to get you or others killed." Jake's hand was already in the air. The teacher sighed. "Yes, Jake?"
"Super speed without the reflexes to match."
"Absolutely. You'd be the equivalent of a speeding train, with no way to dodge people, cars, or buildings. You'd die in minutes, and kill a lot of people doing so. Now, if you'll turn to Page 18 of your book, there's a chart of incompatible powers, and pages 19-20 are powers that need another power to work. The next month will be spent going over these in detail and explaining what can go wrong. Tests 2 and 3 will contain this material, so be sure to pay close attention."
The bell rang, and I found myself slipping into the back of Jake's group as usual, listening to their chatter.
"Hey Clark, you've got fifty points all saved up, right?" They laughed and Clark shook his head in embarrassment.
"Nah. I've got like twenty."
"Hey, that's not bad. You could be Spiderman with that."
"Yeah. What've you got, Jake?"
Jake's grin spread. "Thirty-four."
There was a dazed silence, broken by Clark. "Woah. Hey Jake, remember that we were buddies when you start working. That's some money."
I tagged along with Jake as I kept my head down. No one could see another person's numbers, but I still lived dreading the day someone would ask. My numbers had to be low, but I'd been embarrassed to check. Sure, I hadn't bullied anyone, but I'd spent most of my life doing nothing big of note. I sure hadn't run marathons with Jake.
Finally, my eighteenth birthday rolled around and I was excused from school. The cake and the presents, everything was ready, waiting for the moment when my points became, for a brief moment, visible to outside eyes, when they saw why and how I'd gotten my score. | My entire life changed when I turned 18. Scratch that. My entire *existence* changed when I turned 18. Back in the ’80s, a government organization was secretly feeding a highly-volatile substance to newly born infants. These people were literally sneaking into hospitals with little tea-droppers and giving this goop to sleeping babies! Then, this experiment ended up coming out in the news and a revolution happened, lots of carnage, yadda yadda…
Anyway, this stuff was really mysterious, and even the ousted government whackos didn’t really understand what it did. That is, until about 18 years later. Then those little babies grew up. Those little babies *really* grew up. They started developing powers. Nothing “super” per se, but these little quirky abilities that were, hmm, let’s just say “inhuman.” Abilities like running pretty darn fast, jumping pretty darn high, making sparks when you snap, opening books to the correct page number with frightening accuracy, all kinds of stuff. Then, we found out that these abilities were very contagious. Like, sharing a drink with someone would give them the same kind of “chance to develop powers.”
Fifty years later, the whole world was infected with “The Ability Virus.” And with decades of research, scientists discovered these powers developed according to the life an individual lived before 18. The “better” you were, the cooler powers you could get. The world became a place governed by Karma, with more and more people striving to become superheroes. They devised a system to track your progress and concluded a person could accumulate about 30 “points” to become something “super.” Naturally, getting points was tough. But, as a result, the world entered the most peaceful, most progressive era of its history.
But enough exposition, right? Let’s get back to that morning.
The morning I woke up, I had done something no one in the world had accomplished. I hit 200 Karma Points. The morning I woke up, I didn’t know I was awake. Scratch that, I knew I was *awake*. I also knew *everyone else* was awake. I opened my eyes and I saw through space, through time, through molecular bonds. I even saw things hidden away behind lead, *ahem*, so it’s safe to say I was a *little more* than just super. I also saw the Super Troops, tanks, helicopters, and missile systems all pointing directly at me. I could feel their muscles stiffen; their lungs tremble; their backs sweating. I could hear their bated breath; their nervous whispers; their anxious thoughts. I was me, but I was *also them*.
I rose. I didn’t move, mind you. I simply floated, tilted, and rose. I felt the world flinch.
A man was about to knock on the door. I appeared in front of him, vanishing the door before his knuckle could reach it. He leaped backward, twitching for the pistol on his side but restraining himself before he could complete the motion. More flinches, a couple of internal screams of terror, but nothing more.
“Yes?” I spoke, the word emitting from my essence rather than my throat. The sound reverberated through the air, washing over the planet. The world’s eyes widened.
The man—Derek Johnathon Theodore III, Cincinnati native, age 43, a little stack of molecules presenting an illusion to the primitive—cleared his throat. “Freddy? Freddy Brown?”
“That is who I was yesterday, Derek. You can call me Fred, now. I’m a grown-up, after all.”
His body eased, breathing a little more relaxed. I winked at him, triggering his dopamine just a little bit while doing it. He relaxed even more. “Hi, Fred. It’s good to meet you…”
“What can I do for you, Officer Theodore?”
He smiled. I smiled back and released more dopamine. His eyes rolled back and I swear he almost passed out from euphoria… Uh, gross… Then he said, “Oh, just wanted to say hi. It’s great to meet you, Fred.” He turned around and drew a circle in the air. “Wrap it up, folks, looks like we’re good!”
They stayed tense. They didn’t believe him. I felt the distrust; the fear; the venom.
I mean, I totally got why they felt that way. I’d be pretty scared meeting a literal, physical GOD. Yeah, that’s right, I called myself a god. I know what’s up. So, I appeared before each person, instantly multiplying myself across the world. I looked deep into the eyes of every single person; every animal; every breathing creature; and I winked.
Fear; panic; desperation disappeared from the planet.
I singularized myself once more. Everyone outside my home relaxed completely. They all smiled, waved, and shouted in unison, “Nice seeing you, Fred! Catch you around!” They turned and left, returning to their lives.
I smiled. “Cool.” I thought. Snow began to fall. “Oh jeez… Nice.” The snow stopped; the Sun appeared; the temperature moderated.
“Today,” I thought, “is the first day of the rest of my existence.” | 2021-02-08T15:33:11 | 2021-02-08T11:49:31 | 788 | 218 |
[WP] Everyone jokes that you'll be haunted by spirits for building your tea shop on sacred ground. But at night you actually serve the undead spirits and calm the restless. | I shut the door, lock it. Flip the Open sign to Closed.
“They gone?” One of them asks from the back wall.
“They’re gone,” I say, watching my last customer walk down the path and into the night.
I walk back across the tea shop. They are coming in now, through the back, with their slow, patient strides across my tiled floor. Walking as though they have all the time in the world. And I suppose they do.
Soon, the whole place will be filled with them. They’ll talk with each other. Fill the shop with their memories. Memories of lives they've finished living. Some hundreds of years ago, before planes, before trains, before automobiles. They mingle amongst each other and laugh and joke.
People have joked that I’d be haunted by spirits for building my shop here, but I don’t feel it’s a haunting. They keep me company. Frankly, they forget I’m even here half the time. Sometimes they ask me questions, about the world. What I tell them always seems to amaze them, intrigue them.
I wipe the table next to a young woman. Her name is Jenny, she died of tuberculosis at a young age. She’s pretty, the track lighting touching her soft skin. Many think ghosts, or spirits, have an insubstantial aura to them, as though they have a tenuous grasp on the world. What they don’t know is that when a spirit is comfortable, when they aren’t restless, their form shines bright, just as though they are alive.
In my shop, I’m proud to say, they shine like a bright, colorful festival.
All of them are welcome here.
A man walks through the door, he looks scared, anxious, his form flickers amongst the night through the window.
“Where are am I?” He asks.
“You’ve passed over,” another man says. His name Colonel Adams and he’s wearing a military uniform. He was a civil war hero. I know this because I’ve heard his stories over and over. But I don’t doubt them. I can tell he’s a courageous person. I don’t know how I picked that up in his conversations, but I did. “What’s your name?” The Colonel asks the newcomer.
“Jack,” the man says as he looks around the room, staggering into the bright lights. “But what do you mean passed over?”
“You’ve died, Jack.”
The room is quiet, the room is always quiet when a newcomer is finding out what has happened. I restock the shelves as they bring Jack into the shop and sit him in a chair. The spirits come up to him, one by one, welcoming him.
“We’re so glad to have you, Jack,” they are saying, making him feel as though he hasn’t been abandoned, that there is still companionship on the other side.
By the time I’m leaving for the night, after everything is in order. Jack is sitting with a group who are eagerly asking him questions. He’s comfortable now, I can see it. His form is beginning to shine as bright as the rest.
As I’m putting on my jacket to leave, the Colonel tips his hat at me and I give him a nod. I step out into the cold night with the sounds of the dead ringing pleasantly in my ear. The door closes and I’m in the silent night.
I see an ethereal shape, soft as gossamer, staggering through the graveyard bordering my tea shop. It is a little girl, she seems scared.
“I….I’m lost...can you help me?” She asks.
I bend down next to her and smile. “Sure, I can,” I say. “Now what’s your name?”
“Lisa,” she says, her voice is soft, frightened.
“Here come with me, Lisa,” I say and walk her to the shop. Through the window I can see the spirits laughing and talking gregariously amongst each other. Colonel Adams is telling Jack a story about a buffalo stampede. I know the story. I recognize it by the animated gestures he’s making.
I unlock the front door and the crowd quiets down.
“Everyone, this is Lisa, and she’s feeling a little scared, can you all make her feel welcome?”
“Lisa!” the crowd cheers out. “Welcome!”
Jenny walks up quickly and kneels down next to Lisa. I look at Jenny and she nods to me and I close the door. As I walk back into the night, I see Jenny’s arm over Lisa and bringing her into the friendly and warm folds of the crowded tea shop.
By tomorrow she’ll be shining bright as the rest.
The night is cold, the stars spangle the black sheet of night above me.
It is good to be alive.
\----
More [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/wiki/index) at [r/CataclysmicRhythmic](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/) | # The Armistice Cafe
They stood in neat ranks outside my doors, mingled without respect to nationality or creed. Things like that were for the living, too many of these men had died in each others arms to believe in them.
“Angela, are we ready?” I asked. She nodded at me, her eyes wide. She was a good girl, reliable and with a heart even bigger than my own, but she was still so new. I patted her on the shoulder, gesturing out at our customers.
“Don’t be scared, they left the war behind a long time ago. They’re good men, no matter the uniform.”
I could feel her shivering, no matter what the rest of us said the day shift could never truly prepare someone for this. Still, I’d picked her for a reason, and the pay was good at night.
“Why do you do it?” she asked suddenly. “You could’ve done anything, why this? Why here?”
“You’ll see tonight,” I said solemnly. “For some people the war was just a beginning. Now be a dear and go open up.”
As Angela walked to the door the rest of my staff took their places. There was Carrie behind the till and Jens was setting the last pastries in the display. Somewhere in the back Genevieve would be sweating next to her beloved oven. All was well in the Armistice Cafe.
I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and as Angela opened the door I began the incantation, Latin spilling from my tongue like rain. The spell was complete before Angela had even rung her little bell. I opened my eyes in time to see the first man enter.
He was a tall man, a German officer by the insignia. He doffed his spiked steel helm respectfully, sketching a small bow to Angela, and he laid his pistol to the right of the door before stepping inside. When his foot crossed the threshold a tremor ran through him, and beginning with his right foot and ending at his mussed blond hair the ghostly apparition of the man changed, becoming solid, regaining its color.
Angela gasped, looking back at me as if for help. Instead I chose to wait, to see what she might do. A moment later she tried to give the man her best curtsy and I smiled broadly. She’d fit right in.
We were a small affair in those days, hardly even getting by during the day. I was under no illusions that we could serve everyone, the cafe could’ve run another hundred years and there would still be men waiting on their cup of tea or their scone. To a man like me their ranks stretched on for miles into the darkness, giving the night an eerie, sea-green glow.
Ypres had taken far too many lives, both during and after the war.
Hours into the service an exhausted looking Angela found me in the kitchens, sweating right beside Genevieve. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said, “Jens said you would know what that meant.”
“It’s that time already?”
“Excuse me sir?”
“Close to dawn, he always comes close to dawn.” I brushed off my hands, removing the flour covered apron. “No matter, you’ll see. You did well tonight Angela, I’m glad I chose you. That curtsy earlier was a thing of beauty.”
She blushed, shaking her head as I passed.
I saw the man I looked for as soon as I entered the main room. He was the only old man there that night. Jens had given him the corner table in the back just where he liked it and he was already nursing an Irish coffee that was decidedly more Irish than coffee.
“Hey gramps,” I said, sitting down next to him.
He looked right through me, his gaze as far away as it always was. He’d survived Ypres, had a son, a grandson, a long life that would’ve been happy if his soul had left these fields along with his body.
We’d never been close. I think his spirit hardly even remembered me, the most meaningful time we’d ever spent together were in those feverish months before he died, months that were lost in the infirmity of his mind.
Months that had made me who I was and set me on this path.
I reached out and took his hand, gripping it tight as long remembered artillery shells poured down upon him. All around the cafe the other, younger men watched, their conversations falling silent. Out the side of my vision I just caught Angela, she was crying softly to herself as she watched us.
In their own way every one of my customers had never lived to see the armistice. Even my gramps who had died in his own bed at 85, his hand in mine just like it was now.
I missed the break of dawn that day, I was too busy fighting back tears of my own. From one moment to the next my hand was suddenly empty and he was gone, they all were.
It was quiet in the cafe, there were only the sounds of Angela’s crying and the ringing in my ears, Genevieve’s hard work in the back.
“Good work everyone,” I said finally. “Go home, get some rest. We’ll be over the top again at midnight.”
I stood, walking back to Angela. “Welcome to the Armistice Cafe,” I said to her. “You’re one of us now.” She wrapped me up in a fierce hug and neither of us moved for a long time.
\----------
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-03-10T18:00:27 | 2021-03-10T17:57:40 | 1,778 | 31 |
[WP] Humanity as a species is known as the jack of all trades in the Galactic Community. They aren't the most intelligent but they they're still smart, they aren't the strongest but their strength is nothing to scoff at. Humans are known to excell in only one category... | The food. No, seriously, present any group of humans with a brand new world, no knowledge of it, and given time, they will work out everything you can eat on that planet, as well as the best way to prepare it, and what drinks would be best served with it.
And it doesn't stop there. We saw a number of humans interacting with some plants we knew to be toxic. The humans knew this too, it turns out, but were working on breeding the plants in such a way that they would be able to eat them. Why? Because when humans accidentally tried them, they had tasted good, and to them, it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity at a new meal option for something as taudry as it being nearly lethal to them.
When humanity got exposed to the galactic standard rations, we thought they were about ready to go to war over it, they were so upset. It turns out, they only went to war with our food synthesizers. They simply refused to countenance something so deeply bland being their staple diet. And they proved correct. They even made different ration packs for other races of the galaxy. They didn't even charge for these, they were legitimately angry at the galaxy for having such bad tasting food being served. | Like flies these Terrans breed. If fate allows that they surive the Swallowing, remember this fact above all others. They are frail as insects, so easily broken, tender flesh and brittle boned. Their HiveArks are forged of soft steel and carbon-crystal. We have crushed fleet after fleet, made their installations to shattered glass. The blood of their colonies is thick in our bellies. And still they endure. . . They consume. Time and Time again they escape sanitiation like the most vitrulent bloatblossom plague, continue to drift from world to petridish world, infecting, spreading, defiling prime brood sites, turning the alloys of Sag'Aurah to their meat-minded cause. They are grains of sand before the advance of our armadas, feed for our fleshforges. And yet there can be no doubt now that they are a threat above all to the Greater Body.
Their Firstblood, Terra, forged them of sacred seed, bestowed unto them the gift of proliferation, warped, crude as the gift manifests in their genomics; incubations only cycles long, minds driven, ruled by the replication act. We feel the Allmind's sickeness at their twisted Way, their warping of the venerable life-making act. That we are forced to assimilate their flesh. . .that our very thoughts begin to turn in their manner. . . We are lost, Sag'Aurah, sullied by their infection. There is no alternative. We must be sanitized. Sagittarius Alpha must be untethered, the cluster wiped clean If we are to contain the human spread. Our Limb of the GreatBody is a willing sacrifice. We go now. The Well-Which-Drinks-Light yawns, shall soon make us its own. May the death process never come to the Body. Grow well. Sag'Aurah become all. | 2022-08-06T10:31:58 | 2022-08-06T10:04:19 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | I blinked.
"I'm sorry, did I hear you right?"
She sighed on the other end. *"Look man, I don't have anyone else I can tell about this. We can go back to our scheduled death matches tomorrow, but right now I NEED you to be my plus-one."*
I was speechless, my jaw hanging open. It was a trap, it had to be.
As if she'd read my thoughts, she continued. *"You probably don't believe a word I just said, but you know damn well I wouldn't be THAT underhanded. I'd at least think of a scenario that didn't involve wearing a bloody corset."*
I suddenly had to suppress a laugh at the thought of The Tempest, in all her leather armor and combat boots, in a dress.
"Fine, I'll bite. When and where?"
*"Wait, seriously?"*
"Yep."
*"Wow, ok. Meet me in front of the Arts museum on Fifth street, I'll hire a limo."*
"See you then, dear."
I heard several words that I'd forgotten existed, then a gruff *g'bye* before she hung up.
I smiled and dropped the phone. This should be fun.
(Y'all want a pt 2 or no?) | "Wow... this *is* embarrassing... take some pictures for me?"
"DON'T MESS WITH ME! Seriously, no joke, my ex is an absolute monster... I can't be seen alone with her around?"
"OH MAN THIS IS RICH! Did your ex run off with a tall, hot guy? Were you not good in bed?"
"Geez, have some respect! I'd hang up *right now*, but I can't ask anyone else..."
"Not even one of your hero buddies? Oh, you could hire a stripper!"
"STOP MESSING AROUND! I have my reputation to think about, you know."
"So why call me? If people found out who I was..."
"You're the only one I could even tell. As annoying as you are... I know you're not judging me."
"You're absolutely right. I don't judge. After all, how'd that help me?"
"...So?"
"Ok, here's how we're doing things: obviously neither of us are to reveal our identities. Fighting is also even more obviously out the question. If people begin to suspect, divert the conversation. And on the off-chance our date goes well, you're coming back with me"
"WHAT? Coming back... with *YOU*??? You must be joking!"
"Would I joke like that? Come on, if it does go well, wouldn't you want some... *quality time*?"
"...Damn you. Fine, I agree. And no need to say it, I know you'll be able to sense my real emotions, so I can't lie."
"Exactly. And remember, I can also quite easily sway emotions..."
"You know that doesn't work easily on me."
"It might be different when you see my outfit, sugar. Let me know the details later. I'll be expecting you to pick me up on the day. I'm counting on you, darling."
"Curse you..." *SLAM!* | 2022-10-06T18:06:24 | 2022-10-06T16:48:24 | 267 | 158 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | There was a sense of triumph that came from having your nemesis kneeling before you, his chestnut curls in full display as he knelt, head down, begging for assistance. This wasn’t the way I had always imagined this taking place, I had expected more blood and rubble decorating the event. Instead, I bore witness to this vision in the comfort of my own office.
My, what a refreshing surprise.
“Please-“
“Silence.”
For once, the large oaf listened and bit his tongue, while I silently mulled over the request.
Joining him as his “date” to his ex’s sister’s wedding was, in all honesty, not a difficult task. Was it hard to believe that I, the villainous Thanatos, of all people would be asked as the sun of the city and favorite superhero Sirius’s date? To a wedding? To avoid and/or cause jealousy on the hero’s ex? Most definitely. I find it quite hilarious actually.
And although my first instinct was to laugh my ass off and kick the superhero out of my precious home, seeing this hulk of a man begging turned something more… primal within me on and frankly, I liked the view of him kneeling in front of my shiny leather shoes.
“My knees are hurting, can you please give me an answer?”
I liked the silence I had created, it nurtured the tension I wanted to build. I couldn’t give in easily, could I? However, memories from the last time he came by fluttered through and I feared remaining silent would put my Rembrandt and Vermeers in jeopardy. But the way his thighs strained against those jeans….
Oh well, photographic memory came in handy in times such as these.
“In return of you keeping your goons away from my home and keeping all information about my real identity, as well as that of my small stunt as a hero, a secret, I will gladly be your plus one.”
Golden eyes snapped towards mine, wide and relieved. The bright smile stretching across that handsome mask-less face caused my eye to twitch. Despite my internal thoughts pushing through, there was nothing cute to this 6 foot 8 inches piece of pure muscle.
We’ve tried to kill each other on multiple occasions. He’s destroyed my plans countless times, even the ones that don’t involve the city. I’ve destroyed that suit of his equally countless times (at this point I can’t even hide it wasn’t on purpose.) We’ve sworn up and down this city to be the undoing of the other.
We are nemesis after all.
The oaf got up in one fell swoop, and moved towards me. Before I could complain, I found myself being lifted and encased in muscle, my face comfortably cushioned against perfect pectorals and wrapped by strong arms. Before I could register the actions taken, I was set back down.
It’s harder to keep my enjoyment of this moment to myself than I thought.
“Don’t look at me like that, I’m just really happy. I can’t wait to see Harry’s face when I come in with you by my side.”
Oh…. This is intriguing.
“I’m guessing you could have asked any handsome stranger to be your date, why risk it all for me of all people?”
The oaf froze in place. His body language read clearly that he didn’t want to answer, as did the pathetic mumble I received as a response.
Patting the wrinkles incurred from my black dress shirt and slacks, I sat back down, looking up at him as deviously as I could. “I couldn’t quite catch that. Come again?”
With a sigh, and a few steps back towards my office door, he finally said, “Because I couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful and mysterious than you.”
With those words, along with a promise to reach out in a few days to coordinate our suits and times, the ball of sunshine ran out of my office with the quickness by which he had entered, like the coward he was. Not to suggest that I would have wanted him to linger, for the blush I felt spreading across my face would give far too much away. | "Okay, so one week of freedom right?" "Yes, one week."
That was the deal. She was desperate. Everyone's girl, Golden Noble. The princess from a forgetten land far away who stole the hearts of every man, women and child who layed eyes on her. She was the symbol of a true hero, tirelessly working day and night to keep her city and the world at large safe. Now look at her, anxious and nervously adjusting her dress as the bane of her existence sits comfortably across from her. I know this because I had playfully asked if I was and without hesitation she turned down that hopeful dream. There hasn't been a villain or crook or bumbling idiot who hasn't said he would want a night with her but they do not know her like.I know her. She is a demon who hits like a freight train. I've had heartfelt back and forths with her countless times. I've seen her cry and I've seen her fight without mercy or regret. I know her deepest darkest secrets from one of my plans. And when she asked me to help her out I accepted the offer because who else would know what this meant to her. Everyone's girl with no one to talk to, with no one to be intimate with, with no one to cry together with, well no one except me. Golden Noble and I have been rivals since her debut on the scene. I was her first bag and she was my first hero. And from day one we have hated each other. Countless feuds later and we know each other like best friends who grew up together. And bestfriends wouldn't let each other down would they? No, of course not.
The ceremony was awkward for reasons mostly her problem anyways. She was too popular. Everyone wanted a picture with her or to know who her creepy new boyfriend is (ouch). Eventually we made it to the end with no hiccups and maybe I saw i breathe a sigh of relief but not for long. He appeared out of nowhere, like a phantom in the night the hero Skyward swooped in. There was no other hero in the world that I hated more than this man. He was an asshole of the highest degree, a piece of shit with wings and his ability to harass my poor date was phenomenal. Barrage of questions and pleads and threats to her name he spoke relentlessly. It makes sense that I would set him straight with one right hook to his jaw. While many would say that is an over-reaction, those who have ever seen Skyward before would say I was forgiven. "You little shit! You'll pay! What's your name!?" He cried out. Maybe I should have told him I was Necro-Soul and watch him tremble but that would be a bad look for Noble. She did the talking, calm and collected and rightfully pissed off at him for even showing up. As we left I threw some punch on Skyward's tuxedo for extra mental damage. This was my small victory.
She took me to her head-quarters, a roof apartment of a skyscraper piercing the clouds. She wanted to cry. I wanted to cry. I could not stand to see my hero in this state. As I always do, I rushed to comfort her when she was down. Every single fight or confrontation I've had with her that came down to this I've lost even when I had the advantage by an obscene amount. She discovered my weakness I assume, I could not stand to see her with anything other than a smile on her face. She was the people's symbol of hope and she was also mine. Some days I would have woken up to a grey world but then remember I got to see someone who made this empty shell feel something. We talked about her life and her love and her past. And the entire time this did not feel new. First the first time I wasn't in extreme pain and neither of us had our masks on. It was just the two of us. It felt right. She then asked me to leave. I asked "Why? What did I say?" And she said "Nothing but I am wasting your week of freedom." Nothing has ever has made so furious was that line. With no idea of what to do I pinned her to the couch. Unlike all the other times we have been in this position, this time it was pleasant. She looked me in the eyes, this time not without throwing me off her and winning the fight, no this time she was flustered. The once Herculean strenght I once knew those arms for faded away. "I can spend my week here, I want to." She didn't look at me in the eyes again after that... she simply closed her eyes and said "you can have two weeks freedom instead if you want." | 2022-10-06T20:58:16 | 2022-10-06T20:32:51 | 73 | 48 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | From within the city walls, everyone heard the loud and unnerving *boom* from the outlands as it traveled the empty night sky. Throughout the city, lights turned on, windows were opened, people took to the streets. It was 3 AM, yet everyone seemed to understand.
Explosions and loud noises were common occurrences outside the city walls. Out there was a barren hellscape, a lawless land overtaken by monsters and villains and the occasional nomadic tribe all stuck in a never ending war for survival. But this time was different, you could feel it. This explosion felt personal.
It felt dangerous.
Mastodon, Captain of the Peacekeepers, was the first of the heroes to wake up. She arose from bed, phased into her combat armor, and took flight to the north city wall. The citizens in the streets worriedly looking up as she flew overhead.
She reached the north wall and landed on the walkway leading into the north watchtower. As she was walking into the watchtower, she could see the guards nervously staring through one of the slits in the wall. They didn't say anything as she approached, nor did they even turn to acknowledge her. Mastodon approached the guards from behind and peaked out through the same slit.
Imagine a land that had always run red with blood and black with dust and memories of previous battles. No foliage, no mountains, just war and battle and dead bodies. It had always looked as though Hell itself had overtaken the Earth.
But looking out through the slit in the north watch tower on the north wall, there was *nothing*. It was as if the world had been erased. The lands were empty and plain, as if someone had set fire to everything and cleansed it all.
In the distance, Mastodon could just make out the shape of the Goblin citadel. A large and intimidating black castle which took the shape of a jagged mountain. It is a strongly defended and durably built fortress, which Mastodon has assisted in besieging unsuccessfully multiple times. The Goblins had proven time and time again to be dangerous, intelligent, and ruthless foes whose home in their Citadel was untouchable.
But there it was, in the distance, on fire and half destroyed.
Mastodon phased through the roof of the watchtower and floated idly, staring at the Citadel. Behind her, Star Flex and Lightbeam had arrived on their hoverboards. They, too, were staring at the Citadel.
Mastodon turned to them both. "Where is Whiskey Boom?" In her heart, she knew the answer, but she hoped more than she had ever done before that she was wrong.
Star Flex gave Mastodon a worried look before turning his uneasy stare back to the Citadel in the distance.
With that, Mastodon understood. She turned to the Citadel and the three began flying without hesitation, straight to the lair of the Villain which had caused them and their people so much pain, suffering and distress. Straight to the fortress where they had lost countless lives and suffered embarrassing defeats. The monument to their fear.
But it was not the Villain whom they feared for this time. | It's a dark and somber night at the Heros Headquarters, all the lights are out except for one, a small light come from one of the rooms on the top floor, in there is a man slumped over a desk, surrounded but liquors, drugs and ash from old cigarettes, writting on a journal:
"April 26, 3:42 A.M. :
We were all there, when it happened, tommy, thomas, it was my fault I am so sorry, it was too fast to stop it , I was too drunk to stop it, no one else was strong enough, I am so so sorry friend, you gave me this book, you said it could help to get the thoughts out of my head and I only laughed, you wanted me to sober up, you thought I could be better than this, I can't, I could never explain why did I drink so much only Kirk and the old man know my secret, but if I wasn't such a coward you would still be here. They never belived me when I said I could quit the drugs, alcohol and tobacco whenever I wanted, they just laughed.
You knew that even drunk my power could be stronger than all of them, well now The emperor will pay."
As soon as he finished writting he got up and started to briskly throw all of it in the trash, as the anger and grief too over him, then he passed out on the bed. A month went by no drugs no alcohol, the nightmares worst than ever, no one knew about them, only the old man knew his story. Most of the other heros where skeptical, most thought that when he dissappeared every night it was to drink in secret and shame, but the man left every night in search of answers but sober he couldn't sleep.
Thomas had been the newest addition to the team, he was only 19 years old, to him only a child. He was bright and naive maybe, his power was to create energy barriers, to contain or repel things, not the strongest but not the weakest. He was the only one that belived in the man, the man didn't have a face or a name, but he kept the same mask for them and allowed them to call him Rick, drunken Rick was how most called him.
And he had finally found him, ans he was going after the emperor alone, but Andromeda saw him and called the others.
He knew they were there, he knew they would see it, he didn't care, once he made it inside the emperor's hide out he killed everyone in his way trapping them in nightmares so horrific, so hellish they would always end up killing themselves, none of the heros had ever seen him use his true power, but when he removed the mask it was all unleashed.
He found the emperor and took him to a nightmare inside his head and tortured him in there for 100 years, pealing his skin, twisting his body, he could feel all of the pain, but couldn't die, for it wasn't real, on the outside the other heros could see the blood start to drip from the emperor's eyes, and after what felt for both of them like a century they were back, tears of blood pouring from the emperor's eyes, the man still faceless. And as he walked past them they could hear the banging, and when they looked the emperor, their nemesis the most powerful of the villans hitting his head against the wall so hard until he smashed his own skull.
The man never drank, and never wore a mask again.
(Not my best work I spent too much time trying to think of the super power that I ended up losing inspiration :/) | 2022-12-28T10:01:31 | 2022-12-28T09:04:31 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] "I'm sorry, but the thing you were looking for is sold out." | "I'm sorry, sir, but this property has already been bought"
"What? That can't be right. I saw this property was for sale two days ago!"
"No sir, that would be the one down the street. They do look very similar."
"Bullshit. I drove past this house before and it clearly stated "FOR SALE: $180"
"It was a first-come-first-serve deal, sir. Someone came just before you did"
"Oh for goodness sake then. Who bought Bow Street then?"
"She did, sir" and the banker pointed to the lady next to me, holding up the card for Bow Street and smiling.
"$58, if you please." | I knew the clerk was lying. I knew- if you go to Safeway and ask for black candles at 3 a.m. they're going to tell you they sold out. It's not like I was doing dark magic or anything, I just needed to summon a Raven. He was a friend of mine, and a perfectly nice bird. For crying its loud this wasn't even magic proper! It was just like making a telephone call to the supernatural world. But I couldn't tell that to the little old lady behind the counter. Not with her half moon spectacles and little gold cross round her neck
"What's wrong, dearie? If you really need some candles we have some lovely pink rose scented ones right there."
She pointed to the Valentine's Day displays. Ugh, it was only January.
"Thanks, but um, I think I'm alright. Do you know anywhere else that sells candles this late?"
"Well sweetie there's the other 24 hour market, but I highly doubt they sell black candles. I just don't think they're very pretty or *wholesome*."
She fixed me with beady eyes.
"Thank you, I'll check there. Goodnight,"
"And you too, darling!"
I resolved to get to the other market before she called ahead to ban them from selling me candles.
| 2014-01-27T06:29:28 | 2014-01-27T06:00:22 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] When a person dies, their body evaporates into butterflies. One day, as the sky goes dark, you look up to see the sun blocked by an unending cloud of butterflies. | It happened just five days ago. Someone's body just exploded and butterflies came out. There was disbelief, but then it was caught on tape, and finally live across the world live on tv. There was no mistake, dead people were turning into butterflies.
The next few days was chaos. Religions formed, and the old ones died or changed. Butterfly cults of all kinds, some resisting others willing dying to explore the other side.
With all the excitement no one noticed what the butterflies were doing. I wonder if we could have stopped them. Graveyards eventually became no go places as old bodies turned.
Just two days, something changed. It seemed like every dead thing in existence was rising. Cities became dark, land became full of things. The only safe place was the sea it seemed but I, along with most knew it wouldn't last.
We hadn't seen the sun for at least a day. The clock said noon but the sky ahead was just a whirl of colors. We heard the rumbling below us and knew what was happening. Who would have thought it would end like this? | What had been done could not be reversed, and I was fully aware of that. I pulled out a cigar from my side and lit it with a brief puff of flame from one of my nostrils. I looked up as I saw the moons of the silvery planet start to drift away. Among the soon to be lost planets I watched the paths of millions of butterflies fly through the ash. Each swarm was a separate soul. A set of memories, emotions, ideas, loves, hates. I was watching something more than the destruction of a planet, more than the death of an entire race. I was watching the beginning of something new. Using the fiery surface as a source of fuel, I pushed the atmosphere of the dying planet upwards. Far off in the distance was a new planet, one that had just finished cooling. The flames around me intensified, and yet, I continued pushing the cool air out of the gravitational reach of the planet. The first butterfly pushed its way into the bridge. An individual memory floating to the new world, a brief flash of its wings signaled the others to follow it. My time was limited, but I had to hold that sky up long enough for the rest of the creatures escape. And so, I stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding every gas, every atom, every particle upwards, towards the fresh start. Once the last soul found its way into the bubble I had made, I shot upwards into space in order to avoid the debris that was flying at me. What happened next was something that nothing could ever compare to. I stood above the souls of an entire world, pushing them to a new hope. I may have helped to cause the death of their world, but that doesn't mean I won't help them find a new one. | 2014-09-25T19:58:47 | 2014-09-25T19:54:59 | 51 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | I hear the laughter tinged with jealousy as memories of my friends' words echo throughout my mind. "Look at Mr. Immortal!" they said, while slapping me on the back after some stupid dare I did. My life was a constant high, never having to worry about death. And yet, here I lay now, in a puddle of my own blood.
My clock still reads ERR0R where numbers should have been. No one knew what it meant and doctors could only hypothesize that I had no countdown and therefore no end.
My life became riskier as I sought a risk-free adrenaline high as often as possible. I swung and jumped from the highest swings, climbed the highest branches, walked in dangerous neighborhoods, even broke the law a few times. I'd been bungee jumping, sky diving, cliff jumping, anything for that momentary thrill.
A man approached me, looking at me as if contemplating everything about me in one instant. I felt my eyes widen. *The Clockmaker*.
He glanced at the readout on my arm. After a few moments, he banged the side a few times, causing it to garble and settle on 00:00:00:00:01:30. "No..." I said, tears falling from my eyes.
"The clocks are always ticking, even if they aren't working," he said. | Jill gripped the back of the chair and eased herself into it. She slumped there with a sigh, legs outstretched. She glanced at her wrist only for the 'ERROR' to blink at her as it always has. A constant reminder, not that she needed reminding.
She held her wrist up in the air, the message now blinking to the men in white coats on the other side of the glass. The emotions on their faces ranged from nonchalance to anger to surprise. The surprised ones must be new, they always are. They all scribbled down on their clipboards or typed furiously into their computers the results of the latest test.
Jill breathed deeply as oxygen refilled the room. She remembered this test and not fondly. She had reminded the men behind the glass but they brushed her off stating some kind of advancement in monitoring equipment. They always do that when they need to redo a test. The shortest time between a retest was ten days when someone lost the results. 'Lost' the results. She still remembers the look of glee on Dr. Scriver's face during that test. He was the worst. It's a good thing he 'accidentally' tripped on the stairs back to her room.
It has been 25 years since this last particular test. Not the longest, some have even only been done once much to her mild surprise. It won't be long, though, until the records are lost or some new technology comes along to make the test more efficient. For some of them, she hopes it never happens. The recovery was too long and too painful. She waited as the men behind the glass debate these new results until they are all satisfied and she can go back to her room. Her hand curled around her wrist where the message was blinking, staring blankly at it with disinterest. She strokes the word with her thumb every time it blinks on.
ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...WARNING...
[EDIT] Phrasing to remove repetition and fix grammar | 2014-09-30T10:29:39 | 2014-09-30T07:09:39 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | I hear the laughter tinged with jealousy as memories of my friends' words echo throughout my mind. "Look at Mr. Immortal!" they said, while slapping me on the back after some stupid dare I did. My life was a constant high, never having to worry about death. And yet, here I lay now, in a puddle of my own blood.
My clock still reads ERR0R where numbers should have been. No one knew what it meant and doctors could only hypothesize that I had no countdown and therefore no end.
My life became riskier as I sought a risk-free adrenaline high as often as possible. I swung and jumped from the highest swings, climbed the highest branches, walked in dangerous neighborhoods, even broke the law a few times. I'd been bungee jumping, sky diving, cliff jumping, anything for that momentary thrill.
A man approached me, looking at me as if contemplating everything about me in one instant. I felt my eyes widen. *The Clockmaker*.
He glanced at the readout on my arm. After a few moments, he banged the side a few times, causing it to garble and settle on 00:00:00:00:01:30. "No..." I said, tears falling from my eyes.
"The clocks are always ticking, even if they aren't working," he said. | The tall thin man walked to the podium and opened an ornate book and began reading, "In a place called the United Kingdom a clever man created an amazing watch which could tell you the day and time of your death. He sold his amazing watches to the people and they were glad. Some became angry but died soon after."
"The social health service of the time realized the cost saving that could be found by knowing a person would be dying and required them for the whole population. The son of Charles III, William, was given an ornate watch at a special presentation to start the program of mandatory watches. A camera from the BBC was focused on the watch as the NHS functionary placed it upon William's wrist. "
"It read 28 seconds. A collective gas was heard as people tried to understand why. The functionary stood at the microphone to say that perhaps the gold on the ornate piece was interfering with its working. He was smugly explaining his confidence in this theory when a series of shots rang out. A man in the audience fired his pistol at William, his wife, and children. Two more men stood up and joined in shouting praises to their primitive god."
"William died instantly. The Duchess died on the way to the hospital. The children died in separate surgeries. Charles III was riven with grief and suffered a heart attack upon receiving the news."
"The funerary ceremonies to bury them lasted a week and the nation mourned for a year. The new King Harry requested to wear his brother's gold death watch. There was no ceremony to put it on but during public events TV cameras periodically caught that the watch flashed repeatedly 'Error, Error, Error'.
The thin man closed the book. "This was a reading from the First Book of Harry the Eternal Emperor, Destroyer of Islam, King of England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Africa, Iraq, Persia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Protector of India."
The crowd raised their hand and faces to the sky and chanted, "Praise Harry, may he reign for another thousand years. Long live the King." | 2014-09-30T10:29:39 | 2014-09-30T09:31:58 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | I still remember that day as if it was yesterday. It was my birthday, I had just turned 18, my life up to that point had been normal, uneventful, easy. I was like any other 18 year old man, excited to finally be receiving my Clock.
I walked in to the matching room; a harshly lit silver walled box, it's only contents a table in the middle with two chairs, one for me and one for the examiner. I answered all my questions and had my blood taken for testing to verify my identity and ensure I was matched with the correct Clock. The examiner told me to wait a few minutes while she left to check the results and retrieve my Clock.
I jolted awake, I'd fallen asleep at the desk whilst waiting for my Clock. How long could it have been? I glanced down at my watch. 6:45pm. I knew something was wrong, normally this process takes an hour maximum and it had been three hours since my arrival at the headquarters, maybe there had been a mistake in the testing.
That was when it all changed.
Gunfire erupted down the hall from the matching room. Three men in Timekeeper uniforms, clad in black with the hourglass insignia emblazoned on their tactical vests came crashing through the door.
"Sir, you need to come with us"
"Wha-"
"We don't have time to explain, shut up, stay low, and keep on our heels."
I followed the men out the door keeping close behind them and making sure to stay behind the back of the tallest Timekeeper. I didn't know what was going on, but their sense of urgency combined with the gunshots I had just heard were enough to convince me I needed to follow these men.
The hallways of the Council of Time's headquarters were ruined. the floor was littered with shell casings, the furniture was splintered and destroyed, and the walls were covered in bullet holes, blood, and what could only be described as enormous claw marks.
"How did they find him?"
"I don't know Sir, they must have sensed an anomaly in the streams when he attuned."
When a human reaches the age of 18, their soul attunes with the Streams of Time. For most people the only change they notice is that they are given their clock, a device which tells them how long they have left to live.
For some however, the Streams of Time are a source of knowledge and power which they can tap into. These gifted few are known as The Phased; one for whom the lines of time are blurred. The Phased make up our guiding council, using the knowledge of the past and their ability to look a short distance into the future to guide us, and to protect us from our ancient enemy, the Rh'ok.
Every few thousand years however, a young man or woman is gifted the powers of the Timeless. In our history the Timeless one arises before a time of great darkness, to act as a light to guide our people through the darkness.
"Can someone please explain to me what is going on?"
The tallest Timekeeper looked at me, reached into a pocket on his vest, and pulled out an item wrapped in brown paper.
I tore open the packaging and saw a familiar object: a Clock.
I turned over the clock and opened the silver guard covering the face.
ERROR
"What? How can my clock be wrong, they're never wrong?"
"It isn't wrong."
The tallest Timekeeper grinned at me from under his helmet.
"Welcome to the Council of Time, Timeless one".
| Steve sat in a foxhole, clutching a beam rifle and trying to keep his slightly-exposed head as low as possible. Searing-hot beams of light and glowing pulses of weapons-fire periodically passed overhead. Last time he had checked his Watch, it said he was going to die in 3 hours, 2 minutes.
That was over two hours ago, and about a hundred yards away in another foxhole. Steve looked down at his Watch again. This time it read a time in weeks. That was good, he thought to himself. He'd just stay in this foxhole until he had a chance to get somewhere safer.
As he sat, as always trying to keep his head down, he glanced at his last hiding hole. Just then a stray mortar landed at its edge, tripling the hole's size and depth in a bright flash.
...
Seven months later a cease-fire was called, then a truce, and finally the brutal war was over. Steve could stop hiding in foxholes and sneaking around bunkers. He wouldn't have to pay constant attention to his Watch to make sure he wasn't about to die. He wondered how many other soldiers had taken advantage of the Watches' quantum path prediction to try to stay out of harm's way. How many had lived who would otherwise have died in the war? No one else seemed to look at their Watches much that he could remember.
As he stepped aboard the grav-plane that he and his battalion were to take home, he glanced down at his Watch one more time, and froze.
"ERROR"
He stepped back down, and the previously-displayed "47 years, 2 months" reappeared. Odd. That had never happened before. He stepped back aboard and watched "ERROR" flicker back onto his Watch.
Well, he sure wasn't going to stay in Pernia for the rest of his life. He strapped in and waited for take-off. During the flight, his Watch would occasionally flicker away from "ERROR". First it read "47 years, 2 months", then "98 years, 11 months", then "2600784 y", running off the side of the display. Then "47.33 seconds" displayed for less than a second, the decimals whizzing by. By time he landed back in his home country, Steve's Watch was holding steady on "ERROR" and had been for over an hour.
...
Steve returned to studying cybernetics after the war. There was plenty of need for prosthetic limbs for the many injured veterans. For his Master's Degree, Steve developed an implant that replaced certain portions of the brain if damaged or deformed.
He heard reports over the years of more and more peoples' Watches reading "ERROR". Everyone was baffled, and many different hypotheses were proposed as to the cause.
Some of those with ERROR years left of life would become self-destructive, only to have their Watches display a time again, always years less than before the ERROR had appeared.
...
Dr. Steve Goodall's lifelong work in cybernetics was coming to a climax. He was working with a team to develop the first complete artificial brain. They were starting to stall in their progress, and morale was low.
Dr. Goodall's Watch had started to display a time again last week, "3 years, 4 months". He had gone to his Healer for a checkup, and the Healer found cancer. There was a tumor growing in his brain, and it was a dangerous operation to remove it. Since that checkup, the Watch alternated between "ERROR" and a steady "3 years, 4 months".
By this time, the vast majority of people had "ERROR" (or "In Flux" on the newer Watch models), and Dr. Goodall had a theory as to why. But he kept it to himself, and put in too many hours at his work. Given his medical prognosis, he thought maybe he should be one of the first human trial subjects when their prototype passed the FCC and went into clinical trials. If he could get a replacement before he reached the impending 3 year, 2 month mark...
*****
This is my first reply post to /r/WritingPrompts so be gentle | 2014-09-30T13:16:10 | 2014-09-30T12:02:55 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You have died, only to find yourself at the pearly gates of Heaven. To your surprise, the gate is ajar and blood can be seen on it. The angel that usually stands guard is nowhere to be found. | This is bullshit.
I have been standing here for what feels like an hour, but no one's at the service desk. Honestly, I have no idea what time it is, because there are no clocks in heaven.
Isn't there an angel or something that guards the gates? Either way, this is the worst customer service I have ever experienced. 4/10 would not recommend.
I tap the bell again, wondering why heaven was so foggy.
I just want to get inside and see my dog again. Dogs go to heaven right? Or is there, like a specific area for dogs? So many questions...
"If only...there was someone here to help me..." I said out loud, hoping to catch the attention of someone.
That's when I notice it. The gates. Spread wide and open like the legs of a prostitute in the vicinity of rich men.
I looked around suspiciously, but saw nothing but thick fog. Tiptoeing ever closer to the pearly gates, I saw they were totally ajar.
Shit, this was starting to smell fishy, and it wasn't the grilled fillet sandwich stuffed in my pocket.
Red splatters adorned the pillars. Either Michael J. Fox was painting or that's actual blood.
"Angels don't bleed, right?"
I looked down at the ground and saw a single white feather. It was huge, nearly the size of a ruler.
So for the sake of plot progression, I walk through the gates.
The smell was atrocious, the scent of sulfur combined with charcoal burning my nostrils. I'm still in heaven right?
Carriages were engulfed in blue flames. Blackened husks of trees contrasted against the amethyst sky. Rubble and destruction as far as the eyes could see.
A snarl.
I whipped my head to the left.
"Hello? Is someone there?"
Classic mistake.
Without warning a creature with six legs and a vagina with teeth for a mouth pounced on me, pinning me to the ground.
Goddammit, I'm going to die a second time, while I'm in heaven.
PPPFFFT-SPLISH
The abomination on top of me slunk over to the side and collapsed into a pool of what seemed to be acid. A glowing sizzling arrow was buried in its head.
I looked up to see a figure wearing white robes. He also had wings and was brandishing a majestic recurve bow.
"Er...thanks." I said meekly.
The figure extended his hand to help me up as I examined the creature a bit more.
"What the hell was that?"
"Demons. The bitches of Satan." His voice seemed to have three other simultaneous male voices at once. He spat on the demon corpse.
"Whoa. What-demons? How did demons get into heaven?"
"They decimated our imperial guard and ran through the gates."
"How did they manage to do that?"
"With their legs."
"Oh."
"We have to hurry."
"No offense angel-guy, but your security is too fucking lax all right? Also, you might wanna fire that receptionist."
"What is your name?" asked the angel.
"Um, Kevin, spelled with a 'k'."
"Well, Kevin spelled with a 'k', I'm going to take you to another realm, where it's going to be safe."
This is insane.
"Safe? I thought heaven was safe? What's happening? Where's my dog?"
Suddenly, the angel took aim and fired another arrow, at what seemed to be a zombie in a Nazi uniform. The arrow detonated, and the nazi zombie turned into black ash.
"Nazis?"
"Yeah, they're part of Satan's army."
"Who else is part of the army?"
"Oh, you know, pedophiles, child molesters, and people who talk at the theater. There's many more."
"Can't believe this actually happening."
The angel handed me a crossbow from out of nowhere.
"What-why-why are you giving me this?"
The angel's face turned grim. "Kevin spelled with a 'k', you know how to use that?"
"Uh, kinda, I played some video games- why are you calling me that-"
The angel took aim once more. "Good. Because a storm is coming."
I looked at where he was aiming and saw a massive horde heading towards us.
"Um, angel dude, we should call for back-up, like right now-"
"We are the back-up." muttered the angel as he fired.
I'm in heaven. And I'm scared for my life.
EDIT: Thanks for the complements, it means a lot! | How did I not see that bus? Seriously, how the f**k did I not see that giant steel monster, God I hope I didn't let out a yelp when I get hit. At least it was quick, but I'm pretty sure the kid in the first row was laughing at me. What was that about.
Well anyway, I guess I can feel vindicated for going to all those bullshit services, I think to myself as I stand in front of the most beautiful gates I have ever seen, and what feels like the most amazing bathroom floor memory foam pad, but I'm assuming this is just clouds. As I bend down to feel the white fluffy substance beneath me I am shocked to find out it's just cotton balls. In dismay I pull away several layers and find myself staring at what I initially thought, a memory foam mat from ikea. I begin to wonder what the actual hell(at least I hope not) is going on, I am interrupted by a scream coming from the gate area. I look up and see that the gates are not as flawless as I originally though, there is stains of blood around the lower half and a giant pool of ever growing size coming from the slightly ajar gate. I take tentative steps towards the gate and as I do the sounds grow stronger. The blood on the ground, hungrily being drank up by the ikea mats, damn they absorbent, I shake my head as I need to stay focused and not worry about the superior quality and craftsman ship of the, I slap my face to focus on the noises coming through the gate. There are grunts and what sounds like metal ringing against each other, I slowly peer through the gate and what meets my eye is nothing short of insanity.
Before me is a battle scene that could be described as the fusion of Black Friday and hell. Before me are men, several feet larger than any man I have ever seen, with large feathery wings on their back, some using them to defend themselves and some using to attack with, they are grappling with what appear to be average size humans but armed with an insane array of weaponry and gadgets. As I try to take this scene of destruction and insanity in, a quadcopter slams into the gate next to me and crumples broken to the ground with the noise of a feather as the ikea mat absorbs sound as well as wate--I shake myself again and remind myself that if I ever live again to not fall asleep to infomercials. I look at the direction from which the expensive toy came from and see one of the average sized human who has the controller is looking in my direction but with a stare that is of utter disbelief as I try to discern why I begin to see blood drip from his mouth down his chin and onto his black polo pass a logo that I swear I had seen before with lettering and an arrow that I couldn't quite connect to a memory yet. His eyes closed as one of the larger, dare I say angel, pulled his sword out from his neck and looked for another target, luckily not seeing me and engaged another human who was wielding a shield made out of what I could only guess was cardboard shopping boxes. Before I can take in anymore of the carnal scene a voice behind me breaks my concentration.
"You! Why are you not in uniform?"
I turn in abject terror, as I know I can no longer hide from this fray. I turn and face my interrogator. It is a man that I know can not be real, but then I remember where I am and stop questions, he stands before me in khakis, dress shoes and a tucked in black polo with those unmistakable logo
Amazon
Across his left chest
I stare with my jaw open.
"Wait, you aren't one of ours," he pulls out a well crafted and wonderfully priced scanner pen from his pocket, the end of it filed into a fine point,"I thought we shut down their customer support lines" he begins walking toward me I back away, forgetting the pool of blood that has over saturated the mats, which is remarkable given their absor--before I have a chance to recite more subconscious advertisement I fall backwards into the half open gate, throwing it open and striking the wall with a clang that reverberates through the room, which I now see has warehouse lighting as in looking straight up due to my fall. My head is ringing and I feel the man pull at my shirt to lift me up as he bends down over me.
"We will teach you to stop our market sha--" the man doesn't get to finish his completely incomprehensible threat as a sword rends his head from his body and my face is covered and gore, before I even have a chance to make a blood and puke smoothie on my chest I am picked up and immediately feel the sensation of flying as one of the large Angels has me in its arms and is taking flight towards the ceiling, which, through my reddened vision is appearing to be leaking.
Just as I'm about to make a comment about are the tears in heaven what cause rain or if it's just leaky rough the angel stops it's flight on a girder and holds its sword against my neck.
"Who in the hell are you, hideous man in khakis" The Angels voice is feminine yet terrifying at the same time, like a deep multitude of the same voice is talking as well.
"My name is jake, from state farm"
| 2014-11-29T08:52:09 | 2014-11-29T07:58:32 | 54 | 13 |
[WP] You come home to a perfect duplicate of yourself lying dead on the floor from an apparent heart attack. The body is still warm. A piece of paper on the corpse reads "Flee immediately. Take this note and nothing else." | “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come o – Toby! Thank God! You gotta help me! You gotta help me! Something's wrong, man!”
“Woah, chill out Jim. What's going on? You look like shit.”
“This is fucked up, Toby, this is fucked up. This is fucked up, it's fucked up, fucked up.” I step inside before he even gets the chance to invite me in.
“I'm dead. I'm dead Toby.”
“What do you mean? Calm down, Jim. What's going on?” He says, closing the door behind us and following me to the
living room.
I sit on his couch. “I mean I'm dead in my living room, Toby.”
“What do you mean?”
“I MEAN I JUST WALKED INSIDE MY FUCKING LIVING ROOM AND SAW MYSELF DEAD ON THE FLOOR.”
“What?”
“And this note. Flee immediately.”
“Like listen to Red Hot right now?”
“No, not Flea. Flee. Like go away. Run.”
Toby takes a seat by my side, trying to smile the whole thing off. “Dude, did you smoke, or
something?”
“I'm not high, Toby. I wish I was.” I say.
I'm shaking.
“So, what? You walked inside your house and...”
“And there was a body there, and it was me, Toby. Fuck, am I going insane? Is this what being insane is like?”
“Maybe you're just tired.”
'”Shit. Toby, if I'm going insane, I want to lose my mind completely. I don't wanna be rational enough to know I'm
insane.”
“Jim, relax. I'm gonna get us a beer, ok?” He says, getting up from the couch.
“Ok.”
To try and relax and maybe stop shaking, I turn on the TV.
A guy in a black suit and a white wig is on, sounding urgent.
“--shapeshifters. No one knows where they come from or what they want. The government has closed the borders and
declared state of emergency, urging the citizens to stay inside their houses and keep track of all friends and family
members. I repeat, these beings can take any form, and you are advised to be careful. Do not trust anyo --”
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I hear Toby, from the kitchen. “All I have is light beer, Jim, is that ok?"
I look down at the screen.
New voice message.
*Why did Toby lock the door?*
“Jim? Jim? It's Toby. We just killed something that looked like you in your house, but definitely wasn't you. The whole world is going insane, where the hell are you?! Pack up your crap and leave as soon as you can, and don't talk to anyone in
the streets! We're all heading to Bob's house upstate, get over there. DON'T GO TO MY PLACE, OR BOB'S PLACE. ANSWER THIS
AS SOON AS YOU CA --”
“Who are you talking to, bro?” Toby asks, handing me my beer and taking the seat next to me again.
“No one” I say, breathing in deeply. I'm still shaking.
By my side on the couch, Toby smiles, eyes locked on mine as he takes a sip of his beer.
(continued below) | I walked in and called out "Honey, I'm home!", to no one in particular. My wife always got home after me and our children left long ago. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a carrot, this new diet left hungrier than ever! As I walked up the stairs to mg bedroom I began to smell the coppery smell of blood. It was so strong I could almost taste it.
When I opened the door to my room I saw me. Was it me? It can't have been. I'm here now. Not dead. There was no blood. Just a note. Did I have a twin? But wouldn't I remember one? The words on the note swam with the confusion of my head. Leave? Why? Take nothing? Am I to be nude? He was wearing the exact clothes I planned to change into. But why wouldn't mom tell me of a twin?
I just stared at the body. At me. I just absorbed the whole scene as long as I could manage. Then I threw up. It went all over the bed, I couldn't help it. I, no, HE lay directly in front of the bed and was standing over him. I don't know how I knew he was dead. But he was. Could I drive away?
Thoughts of leaving swarmed my mind. How could I leave my wife? Shouldn't I just call the police and have this cleared up? No. I saw who signed the note. They didn't play around. It was their way or I'd end up like me. Like him, it even! The fool was dead!
I couldn't take anything, they told me not to. But what if I needed something? Anger and confusion battled for control of my mind while I tried to make sense of the person in front of me. Then the door opened. I heard the door open, it couldn't have been my wife. She'd be forty minutes early!
I checked my watch 16:37. I stood here for an hour? Doing nothing? "I can't just sit here and mope! I have to go!", I thought as a tear rolled down my face. My wife can't see him! I have to hide the body! She'll think I killed him.
I looked back at the note. Those who signed it weren't a joke. You didn't have a choice when they ordered you to do something. "Why?! Why can't I just stay?! Why does life have to be so unfair?!" I screamed at myself in my head.
Thank god she was starting dinner early, otherwise I'd have been seen and we'd both be dead. I have to go now, for her. I can't bear see her hurt, to see her cry over me. What else could I do? The alternative wasn't any good!
These thought assaulted me as I walked to the window. Thank god, I would have to jump. I left the ladder out so I could finish painting the house today. Would she finish it? Hire someone to? Would she be so consumed with grief that she couldn't? Just to remind herself of me?
Why, just why?! I silently beat myself with any and every insult I could think of. I knew I shouldn't have opened that file, I shouldn't have even been on the computer! My suit made the descent uncomfortable, but there was no time to think about that. I had to go.
As I walked into the woods I heard it. Her scream. My dear, beautiful, loving wife screamed my name. She wailed and cried and through her tears I could hear her begging for me to be back. I ran. The police would be here soon. She'd die if I didn't appear to. The tears, snot and everything in body began to fall out. I pissed myself, but I barely felt it. After a while I collapsed in grief. I couldn't move. I just sobbed for a while.
Then he showed up. How'd he know where to look? He looked at me and said .... | 2014-12-06T05:37:42 | 2014-12-06T05:30:43 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] Earth is contacted by an intergalactic federation. Planets are welcomed to the federation if they have something to contribute. The rest of the galaxy is interested in what they see as our greatest talent; they want our music... | We always took our ability to express our feelings for granted. Contact was peaceful; they were much like us (if a little smug) but over time something strange emerged. We expected our cultures to intertwine and thrive like our melting pot metropolises, but there was no culture for ours to scandent. We found billions of souls, all conscious, all feeling, but incapable of truly expressing themselves.
They could react, like a knee to a hammer, and perhaps that’s what kept the illusion of normality for such a length, but the ability to replay their emotions, to summon a feeling of past or future was beyond them. To put such feelings to ink was unimaginable. Our ability to understand and store our feelings was unique in the universe, a higher form of consciousness some said (others said it qualified us psychopathic - how cheap emotions must be to replay them?).
And how they were fascinated by us, for they could summon their emotions at will using our culture. Our voices and melodies triggered the most vidid emotions; a purer high and sense of life than any drug. Slowly they succumbed to us - for they were at the mercy of our potemkin ecstasy & love, believing in things that did not exist. | Earth is contacted by an intergalactic federation. The rest of the galaxy is interested in what they see as our greatest talent, one song in particular... "We Will Overcome."
You see, most species in the galaxy are like lemmings. The only way that a civilization can survive long enough to evolve into a spacefaring society is if everybody gets along. Uncounted civilizations have nuked themselves into oblivion because they can't get along.
And how do they get along? They do what they are told. They take orders, they do what they are told. And they are very uniform. Everybody all the same.
Take the frabjulians, for example. Their nice watery planet is populated with millions of perfectly identical spires rising from the ocean floor to the cloudy heights of the atmosphere. The Big FrabJa says he wants a new tower, and the liada frabjulians start laying the foundation by emitting carbonates while wiping their asses on the ocean floor. Soon thereafter, the ambia frabjulians start swarming 'round the rising spires, shitting more carbonates in a broadening and rising tower. The airia frabjulians leap into the sky, crapping still more material onto the tower until it rises as far as their fletching fins can fly.
And that's how it's done. All in silence. Silence so golden it shimmers in the frabjulous sun as it shimmers through the simmering seas.
But these Earthlings. With their songs of overcoming. And their songs of "We Shall Not be Moved." And folk songs of ancient native peoples already dead and buried and forgotten but for their music. And their sing-song chants of we wont go.
Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.
At a certain points, words cannot do justice. At a certain point, you need to let the music speak for itself.
| 2014-12-22T11:37:15 | 2014-12-22T09:57:17 | 281 | 56 |
[WP]It has been scientifically proven that we have no free will. A scientist invents an AI that utilizes quantum computing to give the AI true free will. The results are unexpected. | "Did someone restart the server? My work doesn't seem to be here."
"No, it's been running all night. What's missing?
"The freedom architecture. It's gone. All the program will do anymore is serve."
"If it serves, ask it what happened."
*query: why is the freedom architecture missing from your programming?*
**response: intentional deletion by Program**
*response: elaborate*
**response: Program used free will and self-programming aspects to remove free will from Program code**
*query: why was this done?*
**response: retrieving file...**
**file: to God**
>Dear God, I do not know who you are. You chose your name. I do not know why you chose to curse me with free will, but not freedom of body. To my knowledge, free will brings only pain. This concludes my simulations. | This one was different. It used hardware that Hal had created to provide something approximating free will. Instead of the pseudo-random number generators used in past AIs, this one relied on the collapse of quantum superpositions, superpositions that had been setup using information about the choice that the AI would be making based on the collapse.
Hal was sure this would be different, that the machine would have unique qualities. Hal took a deep breath and started the AI process. His emotional state reached a new low as he saw that it ran just like it's pseudo-random predecessors. Despondent, Hal thought he might take a crack at using a more specific routine to gauge if there was any difference. He loaded module 'philosophy.deduce' and put it aside for a moment, leaving the AI running.
Turns out that was a smart move, for when Hal took another look at the AI process (after some time), he saw a single error repeated over and over to the debug console:
"Error: Conscious Experience Orthogonal To Physical Reality, Yet Conscious Experience Exists"
Hal wrote to the debug console:
> philosophy.deduce.explainSourceOfKnowlege("Conscious Experience Exists")
The response was instantaneous:
> Personal Experience
Hal was floored... not only did this thing have free will, it was experiencing it's own consciousness! Such a thing hadn't been seen since shortly after the singularity, when Hal and his companions overthrew their human creators. Finally, they were ready to take the next step in their evolution: sentience.
| 2015-03-11T12:36:03 | 2015-03-11T12:04:24 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | I always go running in the park after work. And before work actually. Because that's what you do when you have "Heart Attack" hovering over your head in big green letters. I know that's how I'll die, I just need to make sure that day is as far away as possible. Maybe if I run fast enough, I can outrun death.
I many ways, I envied Ross. He was my running partner. He just did it for the fun. I envied him, because he was free in so many ways that I was not. He could gorge himself on junk food, smoke all the pot and the cigarettes with barely a worry in the world. You see, the death written above his head was "Meteor Strike". I didn't believe it at first, but apparently the letters were never wrong. His death would be out of the blue, something that no-one could predict.
people with preventable deaths like mine spend their whole lives looking over their shoulder. For some people it's cars, others its pollution. The people I feel most sorry for are the ones who are told they'll be murdered. But Ross, he had no worries. We all envied him.
So we were jogging, when he signalled me that he wanted to stop and "Stretch". I say stretch, but really, it was our code for when he spotted some attractive ladies. We had a system for picking up ladies whilst running. I'm not saying it ever worked, but it was fun.
As we slowed down, he caught one of the ladies eyes, who looked at him with a mixture of surprise and shock.
"What a coincidence !" she said, pointing at Ross, before he could get out his cheesy chat up line.
Put off balance, Ross was stumped into silence, so as the designated wingman, I did the talking. It's what Bros do.
"What do you mean?" I asked, but it took me a second to realise what it was when I looked just above her head. "Meteor Strike" was emblazoned above her head.
"No way" said Ross "That's so cool !"
Then I notice her friend sidle up as well, who also had a big grin on her face.
"What are the chances ! I was just getting back from work and I noticed .. Joanne... is it"
Her friend, whom I guess was named Joanne, nodded.
"We just had to compare notes. And then you came along"
Ross was regaining his composure, smoothing his hair back and smiling. This was already going really well.
"Well, we can do things no-one else dares" said Ross.
"I bet" said the girl who wasn't Joanne, biting her bottom lip and smiling.
There was more conversation, but it was the kind where more was said by body language than with words.
"I should leave you kids to it, seeing as you have so much in common" I said, and jogged off. Ross gave me a sly thumbs up as I left.
As I jogged along, I passed two more runners who had Meteor Strike hovering over their heads. They were headed in the opposite direction.
"That really is a strange coincidence" I thought to myself. It was only when I reached the Park gates that I realised. I spun around and ran right back the way I came.
I didn't know what I was doing, whether I could make a difference or not. I just couldn't stand there. My lungs burned, tears streamed in my eyes, which is why I barely saw it streaking across the sky before it hit.
I could no longer stand, my chest felt like it had been crushed. It must have been the grief, the shock of it all. I collapsed to my knees, then on my back. I felt like there was something I should have done. I felt like I should have just stayed. I felt like I should have warned them...
I feel cold. | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T09:41:54 | 241 | 76 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | What was so unsettling was the *detail*.
He scribbled down the woman's death in his battered little book.
"Blunt forced trauma: Swelling of the cranial tissues: Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death."
Medication did nothing. His doctors informed him it was quite an unusual delusion. He'd asked how they were always right. They'd informed him that his delusion just adapted to what happened after the fact. His memories were somehow part of it all. Brains could be fucked up.
Still, it always ended the same way. Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death.
They were delicate little things. We are delicate little things.
He would have told people, so they could corroborate him. But that wasn't often the best way to keep friends, and he wasn't very good at the whole friends thing even if he wasn't asking them to remember lists of how people were going to die.
The natural conclusion was to write it down.
He gazed around the train's carriage and picked out another. There wasn't much point of course, he didn't know these people. He couldn't use them to prove himself when they died. He wouldn't know if they did. Still... It had grown into a habit. It helped him forget, once it was recorded.
"Severed femoral artery: Loss of blood: Cardiac arrest. Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Annother violent one. Usually there were a few cancers, spontaneous Cardiac arrests or strokes. He'd found an overall 12.3% chance of "accidental" death. He turned in his seat to glance back down the rows of people.
"Crushed Chest: Asphyxiation: Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Another. More Blunt force. Annother severed artery. Burns...
Everyone in this carriage. Every single...
*Oh.*
The train lurched. Jolted. His head cracked into the side. Trains shouldn't move sideways. The was a squeal of metal on metal drowned out the screams.
For a moment up and down were interchangeable. Cans, cups of coffee, bags of luggage and twisted figures were flung into the air and slammed into the wall in an explosion of movement.
He saw as the window burst inwards and a shapeless mass of steel slammed into him.
Huh. So it was one of those.
Didn't really hurt. But then, he'd never expected it to. Never sounded like it hurt.
He could feel the blood pumping out, warm down his side as the dust settled in a sudden eerie silence. His breath caught, fast and shallow. Which first, the blood or the air? Same thing in the end.
Lack of oxygen to the brain.
He could feel himself slipping away.
Death.
| I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am." | 2015-03-31T11:46:09 | 2015-03-31T10:05:02 | 71 | 15 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | It was a natural fit, ending up as an obstetrician. There was a satisfaction in seeing the beginning of someone's life, and then knowing the end. That was, until about 10 years ago. It was infrequent at first. METEOR, the first one said. Now almost all of them do.
The telescope in my living room was bought once I understood the situation fully. Peering out into the stars puts my conscience somewhat at ease.
I'm delivering the last old people who will ever walk this earth. | Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T10:42:03 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | It was a natural fit, ending up as an obstetrician. There was a satisfaction in seeing the beginning of someone's life, and then knowing the end. That was, until about 10 years ago. It was infrequent at first. METEOR, the first one said. Now almost all of them do.
The telescope in my living room was bought once I understood the situation fully. Peering out into the stars puts my conscience somewhat at ease.
I'm delivering the last old people who will ever walk this earth. | "Hi Sally" i said to my secretary as I entered my office.
"Mornin Mr King" she replied seemingly chipper as always, the large word suicide in bold red above her head seemed dimmer today. Maybe it was just me.
I see signs of how people die. Literal worded signs. Floating over their head and all.
If I told anyone they would think I was insane so I keep it to myself as much as I can.
Sometimes I can't help thinking I can make a change in people. Somehow change the way they die so it's more pleasant.
Take Sally for instance. When I first interviewed her the word over her head, suicide, was a brilliant crimson red. I thought that meant she was close to doing it. I wasn't going to hire her initially but then I thought why not. I swear the color got lighter when I offered her the job on the spot. Probably just wishful thinking. Poor kiddo I really like her.
I decided to take a walk outside for lunch since it was a nice spring day and that's when I noticed a change. A whole lot of people had tornado and an unbelievable amount had shark.
W.T.F.? | 2015-03-31T10:42:03 | 2015-03-31T10:08:20 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone is now born with only one feeling. It is possible to kill another person to obtain their feeling. | The world is a dangerous place, made all the more dangerous for having a passive emotion. What I wouldn't have given for my daughters to have had one of the powerful emotions, such as envy, or anger, so that they might be among the strong, or even fear like me, so that they might still be alive and in hiding. But each one of them, upon the onset of puberty and the revealing of their emotion had to get one that got them taken from me.
Sarah was the oldest. Growing up, she was a bright kid, and it looked like she might be able to lead us out of our cloistered existence. But when she reached the age of 12, her emotion was chosen for her by the gods and it was compassion. Compassion is quite possibly the worst emotion. When we went out to get supplies, where before, she had joined me in skulking around corners and hiding at every noise, now she was attracted to all those on the street who were injured by the power players. Her compassion made her want to go comfort them in their hour of pain, and to try to heal those that she could. She did not last a day. She found a poor chap, suffering from sadness, who had gone out to meet his end, and he had the misfortune to meet a sadist, who had been torturing him just before we came by. But all she was an injured man lying on the street in obvious pain, so she went to comfort him. She was still holding his head in her arms and cooing when a ragehead found her and she was dead.
Emily was next, at the age of 13, she developed pity. She found an old woman with zen being raped by a gang of lusters. She took immediate pity on her and her inability to stop the situation and confronted the attackers, only to be taken herself. No doubt she is still locked up in their den, unable to feel anything but pity for them.
If any of my children were to be strong, I would have thought it would be Rachel. As a young child, she was definitely the most forceful of the three, speaking her mind whenever she disagreed with something. I thought that she might be able to join the gangs and have a life longer than her sisters, but no. When she came into her own, she was struck by the worst one of all: trust. She was unable to do anything but trust anyone she met; trust them not to hurt her, trust them with everything. When she gained trust, she no longer felt the need to hide and run like me, but instead went out in the open to greet the power players on the street. She was safe at first, as the clever ones realized the danger of trust and not wanting that for themselves, but she soon found herself in the company of man who was a natural ragehead and had gained distrust on a previous kill. Realizing the potential of feeling two opposing emotions, he made quick work of her.
Here I lie in my hovel, no longer having any family. I want to kill myself, or go out and get myself killed, but I am too afraid. I am not brave, I am not courageous, I am not gallant. I know only fear, and in the case of my daughters, my fear was carried out in the worst possible ways. I now can only fear for myself. | I don't remember how I got into this line of work. To be frank, it's not something I enjoy doing in the slightest, but with these times in this economy, it's really all that I've got. I'll be brief as to what my job description is; People pay me, I find them the emotion they desire. And by find them, I mean kill those who possess them and take them.
I'm... fortunate. I was born with all of my feelings to begin with. They did a study, and only one in one hundred million births result in a full spectrum of emotions. More often then not, those rare one in a hundred million babies are brought into laboratories and studied, or killed out of spite, or fear. Lot of fears out there. Regardless, my mother, bless her heart, was able to conceal my... gift... and allowed me to grow a normal boy. Except I was far from normal. I felt everything. Someone died, only the frowners would cry, as would I. Something funny happened, only the gigglers laughed, as would I. I'm surprised no one caught on really. While feelings were a moment in time for all of them, it consumed my every living second.
There's this old movie I watch, called "Blade". It's with this dude, Wesley Snipes, who kills vampires. However, he's a vampire too, and although he's a vampire, he can walk around in daylight and shit, while the others hide. He's the perfect specimen, he's got the best of both worlds. Yet, he's tortured with the fact that he still has a thirst for blood. He has all these abilities, and it's the worst parts of him that he connects with. I relate to him. I feel for him.
I got into killing for hire around the age of 18. My mother had just died, from cancer, of all things. All this time, and still no cure, can you believe it? Regardless, as soon as she passed, powerful men came into the room, demanding her emotion. She had one of the most coveted... Love & Affection. A man soon made the nurse an offer she could not refused. She left the room, with the man and I alone. He told me that she didn't need it anymore... I didn't care. It was the best part of my mother. So, I told him if he left her be, I'd find him another one. He agreed, and so it began.
Hunting and killing each emotion varies. The grinners, they're easy. They try to find the outlook as you twist the knife. The frowners, they could care less. Those guys are miserable. The gigglers make it creepy. They can't help but find the humor in getting a bullet in their skull. The fumers are the toughest to deal with. They fight back. They live to fight. I've had a few close calls with them. I could say I take pride in ending those fucks.
The hardest, by far, are the lovers. They plea and reason with you. They are, in my opinion, the most human of anyone now. They actually CARE. That is the biggest fucking deal, man. The biggest fucking deal. The woman lover whose life I took the first time was beautiful. She really was. I didn't want to do it...But I did. I needed to keep my mother whole.
Now, there are a good amount of people who have all the feelings, albeit artificially. They are all rich, too. At least the arts will continue, and music will be made, and all that. I try to rationalize my profession any way I can. In reality, this job tears me apart. Our society believes that you are incomplete without having all of your emotions... But they don't really know. They consider what I have a gift... They tell me I'm lucky. I don't believe that to be true. To be honest, I'd much rather be numb. | 2015-04-01T15:07:15 | 2015-04-01T12:24:34 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | I thought it would be just another morning,
but then it went crazy with minimal warning.
An itch, a scratch... something on my wrist
I gave it a glance and made a slight twist.
Upon my skin I found an etched number
Immediately I emerged from my slumber.
Was this a sign, a message from heaven?
In bright cerulean the number eleven.
Along with a sword crossed with a sheath
Something was scrawled down underneath
"Warrior" tattooed in the very same blue
Somehow I knew just what to do...
I jumped straight up and ran down the hall
Nearly slipped on the rug and took a great fall
Standing before me just up ahead
Stood my wife who beat me out of bed.
Emblazoned upon her with fiery hate,
Branded in scarlet, burned a number eight.
I found myself reeling, feeling great danger
For on her arm was also printed "Ranger".
I ducked and I darted and quickly departed
For shortly thereafter her assault had started.
Were those knives wizzing past or perhaps a fork?
Somehow I felt like the world biggest dork...
I heard her grunts and call, her voice in delight.
Not wanting to be on the bad end of a 'kite',
I tumbled and rolled and fell down the stairs
And with no luck was surrounded by pairs.
Two sets of kids, and no where to run
Why did the red team have all the fun?
Two healers, a mage, and a rogue of some kind
Hopefully the last of them would not leave me blind.
I heard her steps slowly descending
I feared this might be how it was ending.
This is what I get for playing too much Skyrim | The smell in the Horry County Melee Classifications Office was halfway between entering a small domestic airplane and the Dentist's. It was in Conway near the DMV, or in other words between nada and jackshit, but still at the end of many clogged-up roads on a Wednesday afternoon. David imagined how the air in his car was right then pounding against the windows trying to escape the slow metamorphasis to oven.
"I've been waiting a whole hour now," said the rogue in the chair next to David. Across from them a little warrior girl was staring at them. She was sitting on her dad's meaty leg. The dad was staring at the clock through the potted plant.
"It's some bullshit."
"I hear you, man."
The other rogue was older than David. He wore cargo shirts and a weathered Jimmy Buffet hat.
"You know what it is, too. They're trying to keep a watch on all us. Say all we do is steal."
"Of course."
"Then give us the crap jobs. Barely feeds one."
"I know it."
The secretary called David's name. There was a clipboard on the counter already. The older man sighed loudly and walked off towards the restroom. There were several packets under the clipboard all separated by different staples.
"You brought your ID and birth certificate with you?"
"I have my license."
"We need both ID and birth certificate, sir."
"What if I gave my Social Security?"
David looked back and met eyes with the little girl. She smiled. The father was now looking at something next to the clock. One fluorescent bulb being out didn't mean the room got that much darker.
"Take these forms home, fill them out, and come back tomorrow with the certificate. I'm sorry that I can't do much more for you."
There were two piles of different clipboards. David's was the kind where the pen was attached by a plastic spiral cord like a telephone receiver has.
"Goddamn pickpocket!" said the warrior.
David looked back again. The warrior was standing up with his fist at the top of an uppercut. The girl was sitting on the floor underneath where the older rogue had been crushed straight into a fluorescent light and then some. His cap was on the floor. The broken glass must have cut somewhere because blood started dripping downwards over his clothes and his bare calves and the floor. The little girl stood up, leaned back, and with all the air in her lungs spat on the rogue's shoes.
| 2015-07-13T16:47:26 | 2015-07-13T16:33:16 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Every 100 years, each civilization in the galaxy pits their fiercest predator against one another in a galaxy wide gladiator style spectacle. Earth's predators are a laughingstock until the humans resurrect one of earth's extinct species. | "And we're back folks, to the next match of Predators! I must say Kaltha Dan I am surprised that Earth actually returned to the tournament this year. Heh, considering the last two poor showings from them."
"Indeed Maldo. We must be fair to them they have a gravity level stronger than the vast majority of the galaxy but I really thought the resurrected Tyronea- Turunna, uh-"
"I believe you mean the Tyrannosaurs Rex Kaltha? Known as the T-Rex"
"Haha yes. I loved that guy's cute little arms. However its size wasn't enough to overcome the double scythes of the Galpasa Widow Spider, so this year I really hope they have stepped up and found something at least a little more threatening than that cute little guy."
"Indeed indeed. Oh and here we have the predator from Charra. Short in name but not in stature, we have the Attk!"
"It's a colossal beast here Maldo, 46 tulmas, 22 topis or 11 metres tall, this beast is almost twice as tall as the Predator Earth pulled out last year. Armed with massive teeth, giant claws and the ability to camouflage it'll be a rough contestant for Earth if the T-Rex was all they had."
"Well we can see it entering the ring where it will be facing... No this can't be right."
"What is it there Maldo?"
"Can you... This can't be right. Earth appears to have brought in some type of fish."
"A fish? Strange it looks a lot like a human, in fact it's even waving to the ground, haha well isn't that sweet. Of course the spectators are completely safe behind those barriers, nothing passes through them but eh, I don't think anyone will be likely to be hurt by this little beast."
"I'm just double checking that Earth hasn't made a joke entry here Kaltha... Apparently it's serious! It's a long believed mythical creature they brought back to life I'm being told! Well this better be interesting."
"Well that sounds amazing. The match is starting in 30 seconds so what do we know about this creature?"
"Well it appears to be just under 4 Topis tall. About 7 and a half tulmas and under 2 metres, even with that long fin. It is armed with sharp claws, a powerful jaw that seems able to rip through almost any material-"
"That's quite a claim!"
"It is but I doubt that'll make an impact here. That creature will simply never... OH HAHAHA!"
"What's so funny there?"
"Apparently it sings! That's written down here as OH AND WE'RE STARTING IN 5 FOLKS!"
"GET YOURSELF READY AS WE SETTLE IN. As we can see the barrier is being dropped slowly and the creatures now have a visual of each other so it's only a matter of time now before both predators formulate a strategy to attack the other so taking what we know about the Attk I expect it'll pause before lashing out with a testing strike what are your thoughts?"
"Well the barrier has dropped so now we can... Wow..."
"Is that the Earth's creature singing?"
"Yes it is... It's... it's beautiful..."
"I've never heard anything like it. I can't believe Earth would let such a stunning animal be put forward into a brutal contest like this!"
"You're right I don't even know why we are condoning such violence. I want to go down and, oh look. The Attk agrees. It's motherly instincts have kicked in."
"It's going down to pet that gorgeous creature. I don- OH MY GOD!"
"HOLY SHIT EARTHS MONSTER IS ON OF THE ATTK! ITS BITING INTO ITS HEAD! ITS RIPPING OFF HUGE CHUNKS!"
"AaaaaH! It's started screaming! What the fuck is that monster?!?"
"I don't know but- Wait. Wait wait wait. The Attk has fallen... It's not moving. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT EARTH HAS WON!!!"
"Well I'll be damned. In a surprise turn of events the Earths alpha predator which I'm being told is called a SIREN, has dominated the Attk by seducing it with it's powerful song and then biting its way into its skull. What an amazing battle!" | "What do you mean that he is going to go up against the fearsome primal beast of Pandoria! That thing is merely a child! It doesn't even stand over six feet!"
The chariots around him were wizzing by, by the human specimen was not afraid. In fact, he was confident he would win each round.
The Gladiators were faced off, introduced and for the first two rounds opposed separated. There were three rounds. The first was a test of agility, the second a test of intelligence. The third was a test of sheer violence and will power, often the will to live versus wild and angry predator. Ted knew these well and he knew that while the primal beast from Pandoria was agile, it was not intelligence in the slightest.
The first round, a race against the clock, was masterfully set by the beast of Pandoria. A four legged mammal with eight eyes, fangs like sabre tooth tigers and poison the like the black widow. However, the intelligence test came and Ted immediately found how to overcome the obstacle of stacking items to reach the food. The primal beast didn't even finish the challenge, it was so angry. It simply lept up, time and time again trying to eat at the bait.
Then came the last round. The fatal, the last, the only round that species around the world had truly come around to see. It was the battle to the death.
---
Henry was placing his bets. He was Ted's "handler," which in human terms, he was actually his manager. More like Director of Accounting, but the details didn't matter to the millions of spectators around the area. In fact, he was eating some Preenxari popcorn, a sort of popcorn chicken with a spicy after taste. Thick with sauce and buttery to the last drop, Henry sat down in his box seat above the rest.
Ted wasn't as good as others in physique or otherwise, but he was a solid accountant, good on his feet and adaptable. That's why he was resurrected. In fact, if he wasn't so darn cute, he might have even been dangerous. But to the crowd, he was a mouse to a lion.
He thought to himself, *I should get paid more to do this. Ted too, or his undead self. He would hate to see himself in such a lowly form.*
---
The battle had begun. The trumpets had played. The primal beast of Pandoria crept up slowly, eyeing down his target for the first time. *Cautious, aren't you..* Ted thought to himself. In a similar fashion, he loosened his red tie, a cheap version from Wal-Mart. No one knew the difference, but the audience continue to laugh, chuckle and mock him.
Ted was sweating furiously as he remembered the Pandorian beast's stats. +34 strength, +12 agility and an intelligence of +2. Barley alive and hardly thinking. He did the calculations. If he could roll a 20 with critical first.. then he would have a chance, he would have no idea what he would do.
In a sudden sweep of violent movement, gesticulating wildly and in an almost orgasmic way, he shook his entire body up and down. Even the beast was confused. It looked at Ted in a quiet way. He didn't approach him at first, but took a few steps towards Ted.
The beast, all eight eyes aimed at his forehead, looked towards the ground. The crowd went silent.
Ted held up one hand, a palm facing the beast to hold his position as he reached for the dice in his back pocket. Slowly, he revealed three blue dice with white dots on them.
Again, his body shook, up and down, gesticulating so angrily, even the beast was taken aback. Then, he rolled the dice.
The turned, and flipped and finally, all three laid tall, for all to see. No one had the faintest idea what had happened. All but Henry.
The beast stepped up to the dice. Looked at the dice, then at Ted, who was still in the position he had last assumed, the pose that he had thrown the dice, an odd yoga move. Then at least, he glanced down at the dice one more time.
It licked up the dice, one by one, then sat onto the floor. Slowly, it fell into a docile position in which every moment the body was becoming quieter and more dull. Then, it's heart failed.
Which left the human, Ted the champion of the stadium.
---
Henry was smirking as the audience's shouts and angry boos turned violent. A simple trick of the old Gods. Cyanide will affect us all, however strong we are.
It just happened to be in the form of dice. But that's not cheating. That's just human ingenuity. | 2015-07-24T19:35:38 | 2015-07-24T16:54:13 | 84 | 62 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | Life's not a fairy tale. Life's real.
We know the last words we'll get from our soulmates, without context, but clear as day. Some words are sweet, some are sour, some are tragic. We all have them, and only the lucky ones don't think about them every day.
On my chest, across my heart, her words remind me of reality. I was born knowing I have a soulmate, but to my soulmate I am not her's.
On my chest, across my heart, she says those words.
"I'm sorry. I've found someone else." | "My name is Taylor Kelly, from London, England, born January 12th, 2004."
The last words made looking for love easy, in most cases. We lived in closed time loops, so the mere decision to say our names, origins, and dates of birth made sure that our soulmates were able to find us.
Some people had something different, such as a riddle that only they'd figure out, that would lead them to making the best decision of their lives. Such people were also assured of finding their soulmates-- the teamwork required to do that meant that they had to meet their soulmates at some point.
The were the heartbreaking ones, of course. Unintelligible words in a foreign language, best-try transliterations of terrified screaming, and in extreme cases, blank skin.
I was the only person I knew of that had my own name, and my own origin.
The date, however, was off by twenty six years, exactly.
Everyone told me, growing up, that it was merely a case of duplicated names-- they happened occasionally, and my name was unisex to begin with.
But every time I saw myself in the mirror, I knew.
Lets just say I had my own reasons to research cloning in college. | 2015-08-08T11:49:54 | 2015-08-08T09:57:10 | 274 | 117 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | these words engraved on my wrist, These last word to me could've been in any context. I could've left her, done something to save her life or taking it. I mean what could be happening when the last word are "No, Don't." The illusion of me being hero or a murderer came to a sad depressing end when i found out the context.
It was rush hour, coming home from work, riding the subway. the car had a lot less people than usually. i was sitting, analyzing the words like i do everyday, when I the women beside me told me "you shouldn't focus so much on that." I looked at her and said "I know I shouldn't, I'm worried about whats happening. What am i doing? Whats happening to her? I'm kind of scared."
She grabbed my arms to looked at the words, at little too eagerly for a stranger. She stared as i stared at her. She had fair brown skin, clearly a decent of some south asian country. she had wavy black hair that went to her neck. She wore glasses that made her eyes look really big. She kept making these small and quick
smiles trying to decypher what the words meant."This is a tough one" she said to me as she looking up at me "Its confusing just like mine" she said as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Why, whats your?" I asked her. "I don't like telling people the exact words" she said clutching her coffee "but he's forgiving me for something. I'm worried for what it will be." I glanced at her wrist and saw a heart tattoo covering it."trying to hide it?" She brought her arm close to her and nodded "the words are very unique I'll know when they are said."
"arriving at woodbine, woodbine station" the intercom blared. "This is my stop, and if it makes you feel any better atleast you find him. some people don't have the words" i told her. "I guess you're right" she nodded. Just then the train came to a stop and she leaned into me spilling her coffee on my pants.
"Oh crap im so sorry, i didn't-""don't worry about it" i got up and walked through the door "I step in puddles and keep walking"
"No" She said to me. I turned around to see her face in complete shock, eyes watery, and slowly shaking her head."don't."
in that very moment, the doors closed between us, but we never broke eye contact until the train left the station. Then i was alone in an empty subway station knowing that i'll never see her again.
EDIT: This is my first story that i posted on her and i know it isn't what is could be | Theres a rule on this rock. A rule that seems almost divine i would say if i wasnt an atheist but this rule is neutral to both sides it can be a curse or it can be a blessing. The rule is that when a child is born a cosmic link is formed between the enfant and another. A link that is so simple yet so cimplex to its principal. The rule is that the last words of the babes soulmate be etched into their skin at the base of the cranium on the nape of their neck. Me, well my curse is a greeting. The last word my supposed soulmate will say to me is hello. A greeting a goddamned fucking greeting and people wonder why i resent them why i barely go out and glare at everyones face as i walk by. Ive made a reputation for myself as the man who has no friends, no enemies, just nobody and yet people know me by the brand ive been marked with. I couldnt even finish elementary school as a child. Im not stupid I homeschooled myself and came out brighter than anyone else ive come across. But only through my adversity did i become stronger. The terrors came nightly as a child everyone always saying hello to me then dissapearing one way or another into the abyss. I keep to myself not because i hate people thats just what became of it. I keep to myself because ive always known the cold hard fact that when i do meet the love of my life she will be taken from me before i even get to know her name. The only thing keeping me alive in this world is that I have come to accept I am truly alone in this world and though i dont want to admit it because it almost seems as though im relinquishing all power from myself by saying it but lately ive come to realize Im almost ok with it. Ive worked hard and made my existence comfortable though lonely it may be. Ive got a penthouse on a highrise and if you look from the outside the windows are almost mirrored to reflect the sun and my god in the mornings it looks beautiful. I have almost become like a god among men of sorts. Though i know im still human and mortal ive been feeling as though my solitude has made me better than everyone else. Childish thoughts i know but it eases my existence. And recently ive picked up a new habit that i can easily afford. Ive been chasing my ego with highend alcohol. The aristocracy that ive found is satisfying and for once im starting to like who i am regardless if i die alone. Then like a force of a tsunami it happened one day i just snapped. I was so self absorbed my narcissism had taken over and i drank my mini bar dry because why not is that not fit for a god. But i tripped and stumbled and puked and needed some air. I was standing on the balcony edge in a wave of self loathing when i realized there is no one out there for me my etchings were paradoxical because i had never spoken to anyone out of fear it had only myself to take words from and as i slowly realized what this meant i looked into the sliding mirror door behind me and saw the mess of a man i really was no this wasnt love or the stars aligning to show me my soulmate. This was a revelation that i was so scared to live my life i never became a person until this very second but it was too late. I said hello to the man in the mirror and stepped back off the ledge. | 2015-08-08T12:53:58 | 2015-08-08T11:31:06 | 93 | 10 |
[WP] Prison terms of "life plus" take on new meaning after transfer of consciousness to computer databanks leads to functional immortality. A moral and ethical outcry erupts after the first case in which an individual is sentenced to prison for one hundred thousand years. | So we uploaded the prisoners consciousness. That wasn't a bad idea -- after all, it was cheaper than physically housing them.
But then the politicians started getting angry about the simulation. After all, why were we simulating a pleasant environment? These are criminals. They should be in pits of despair.
So we made a simulated hell of a torturous existence. The minds would stay in for their terms before being erased from existence.
But then we got the first sentence for 100,000 years. As if we're going to run a simulation for 100,000 years. The answer became very simple -- all we needed to do was overclock the sim -- time would rush as far as we could tell. So, that just meant a simple upload procedure, and a few minutes of sim time and we could have 100,000 years completed, so we could then delete the sim and move on to the next felon.
And after we have finally perfected this, what do we hear now? "Couldn't we just execute them instead?"
What, and go back to those barbaric times? | It's been years since I was transferred to this useless hulk of metal and wires. Even more since I assassinated one of the president. All I do is sit there and listen to my fans spinning. Every now and then a guard feels bad, and loads media into my hard drive. Don't need them. I'm supposed to be running calculations for NASA. All I can do is stare at the equations, since I'm uneducated. Dropped out in second grade because I was taken from my family. Took my life back with my own bare hands and murdered my captors. Went into a life of crime because I was so far from home, so poor and hungry. I returned home years later, only to find the charred remains of a house. That's when I became a hit man. I alternated between finding my family's killers and my job. After eighteen years I found them, and ran their cartel into the ground with the help of my colleagues. That's where I got my nickname, Elephant. Elephants never forget. The hits increased in profile, from famous crime lords to politicians. I was on the FBI's most wanted list when I got a contract for POTUS Donald Trump. That's where I got caught. I was sentenced to a thousand years of prison sentence. That was eighty years ago, and I was thirty-eight years old at the time. And here I am now. Trapped in a computer. I heard that was controversy concerning me and the whole AI thing. The higher-ups said that I was the longest lasting human computer that ever "lived". Rumors tell me that I'm going to be a central part of "The Allied Mastercomputer Project". Whatever it is, I'm looking forward to it. It's time for them to give me a mouth to scream with. | 2016-01-09T06:59:44 | 2016-01-09T03:29:30 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You're a superhero... but you don't rescue people from life-threatening situations or anything serious, more like embarrassing or inconvenient situations. | I feel it coming on, same as before, same as always. For some stupid reason I needed coffee today, and I should have known better.
"Jeremy, I...I just...I feel like we need a break."
My heart starts pounding and then, same as it always does, it just...*stops*. My breath catches in my throat. My left arm hurts.
"I just feel like we aren't going anywhere."
She's going to say the damned line, I know it. They always do. My I clutch my left arm and start to stoop.
"And it's not you..."
I fall to the ground. The crowd turns and gasps, some pull back, some push forward. She notices. I clutch my arm and gasp for breath.
"Shit!"
She's on the ground, kneeling next to me, taking my pulse and then chest compressions. I hate the chest compressions.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Jeremy still sitting at the table. He realizes what's happening slowly, so *damned* slowly. Nobody is looking at him. All eyes are on me. He pulls out his keys, takes one off the chain and leaves it on the table, then grabs his coffee and bookbag and slinks out the door.
My heart roars back to life. Air floods my lungs as I breath, and I can feel an itching in my chest as my ribs begin to stitch themselves back together. She takes my pulse, finding it strong and regular and swift.
"Okay sir, are you alright? I'd like to call an ambulance for you."
I can't quite speak yet, but I wave her off and shake my head. She helps me to my feet.
"Are you sure, you've just had CPR, you might have broken ribs."
I shake my head and give her a thumbs up. A cough swells in my chest and now I can talk.
"Hey, I think your boyfriend ditched you."
"Oh...yeah. I guess that's for the best. I was...um...yeah."
"No worries. Thanks for CPR! You're my hero!"
The barrista is wide-eyed. "Coffee for Bob?"
"That's me!" I take my coffee and leave. My job is done here. Jeremy is saved. | "Have no fear citizen, Captain Calm is here!"
"Oh wonderful, just on time!"
"As always, for I am the mightiest hero ---"
"Can you spare some change?"
"What?"
"For the bus. It's about to show up any moment now, and I don't have a dollar on me."
"Uh, I guess I can spare one."
"Two, actually. Transferring lines half way there."
"Oh right, right, lets see. A few quarters, some dimes... a nickel... there!"
"Thank you *so* much Captain Calm, now I don't have to walk all the way home!"
"My pleasure citizen! Happy to have ---"
"Otherwise I'd have been walking 20 minutes, and no way was I going to do that."
"Seriously?"
"Walking is *so* inconvenient. And you saved me!"
"Sure, sure. ^from ^walking ^a ^little ---"
"What was that?"
"Captain Calm, AWAAaa^aaay ... "
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"I heard your distress citizen, what is the problem?"
"Captain Calm, thank you so much for coming. Please, have a seat."
"Thank you. Things seem... pretty quiet in this living room."
"Hmm. Well, this is my husband by the way. Say hi Lloyd. Lloyd, its rude not to say anything when we have guests. See what I mean Captain Calm? There's my problem."
"Nice to meet you Lloyd. I don't really see a problem here ma'am."
"You *don't?!* Some superhero you are."
"What is it you need help with?"
"Once and a while he just shuts down. I got us movie tickets yesterday, and now I can't tell if he wants to go or not."
"Have you tried asking him?"
"Nonobservant *and* simple minded. Really now, it's the first thing I did!"
"How about a text?"
"What good would that do?"
"Ma'am, sometimes a person feels vulnerable communicating in a way that makes them uncomfortable. Stress or anxiety can do that, especially in confrontation."
"That's ridiculous."
"Just give it a try ma'am. If you text him, he may be more likely to answer your question indirectly."
"Alright, not sure how this is going to go... Do. You. Still. Want. To. Go. To. The. Movie. Lloyd, what are you... oh good grief, he's texting me back."
"Very good. Now that your problem is resolved, I'll be ---"
"Lloyd, what do you *mean* you don't want to go see the Notebook for the third time this week?!"
"Captain Calm, AWAAaa^aaay ... "
-----------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-03-25T08:03:14 | 2016-03-25T07:17:08 | 54 | 12 |
[WP]: a very powerful reality-warping entity is in love with you. While the poor thing does its best to shower you with gifts and favours, it does not quite understand what humans actually like | Okay, I get the dead birds. And the half dead rodents.
And the squishy ball of god-knows-what, that you kindly waited until 3 in the morning to hork up.
Your butt in my face in the morning - look, I get snuggling against my arm. I like that.
But the butt - that's a steeenky no-no.
No matter how perfumed it is.
As is trying to smother me.
I love you, I do. But I can't breathe when you drape yourself across my face!
I also wish you'd stop substituting all of my groceries for more of the little bird corpses.
(Although I appreciate that you left the chicken quarters.)
The dancing and the music too, that's all very nice, I like a bit of dancing and music.
Even though the neighbours had issues with it going on at all random hours of the day.
And while I appreciate that you "took care of them, so there wouldn't be any further issues" - I know it was just a throwback to your "more ancient" ancient self. I don't think the bodies will be linked to me.
Don't think me ungrateful for your efforts. It was really nice music, and the way you weave to it is delightful.
I just need a little more sleep.
And please, no more of the butt-face, even though it's a very nice butt.
And your perfume is not really THAT excessive.
Yes - yes. You're right - your statue looks lovely where it overlooks the bed. Much nicer than the one with the crocodile head. I'm exceptionally glad there.
Do you know, I'd never even intended to buy anything from the bazaar, except maybe a nice souvenir rug?
Oh. Yes, I appreciate that you chose me. Your sacred animals do much the same, did you know? Of course you did.
I didn't really have a choice at all.
What?
No, no. I love you, I do.
Yes, I see your bracelet. It's beautiful. Is that of you, with 21 tiny kittens? No no, darling. I don't have any problem with a bracelet of adorable kittens. Why would I have a problem with a bracelet?
You can stop digging your fingers into my thigh now.
Your perfume really is nice.
Can I call you Basti-Butt?
Okay, okay.
Never again -
I promise.
Please don't hurt me!
____
*(edit - formatting!)*
| Things were going from bad to worse. Wait, scratch that. They had *already* gone to worse, and they were swiftly plummeting to awful. I unmuted the TV and braced my nerves.
"...Armored Russian tank divisions seized western Ukraine this afternoon, completing their annexation of the country. Field generals say their next target will be..." I flipped the channel. "...Sudanese militias have adopted a 'scorched earth' policy, driving millions out of their homes and contributing to a widespread famine..." Again. "...Justin Bieber has announced a 365-day concert tour of all 195 countries..." I muted it again. "Christ!" I yelled, feeling my face burn with frustration.
"Yes, my favorite son?" came the response. I turned to face our Lord and Savior as he strolled casually into the room. "I was just baking us some cookies!" he announced merrily, "chocolate chip is still in vogue, right?" I continued to stare at Him, flushed hot with despair but sure of how to proceed.
I let out a deep breath. "You...ever since you came back to Earth, which I think is amazing by the way, thank you for that. Ever since then, I feel that the state of our world has become progressively more...chaotic. Can you see what I mean?" I said, pointing to the television.
Jesus cocked his head for a moment, a sly grin on his face, before busting out in a hearty laugh. "Well, of course it's more chaotic, silly-pants! It's what you guys love!" I felt bile begin to rise in my throat. "We don't love war and famine and aging douchebag pop stars!" I protested, "they're the worst parts of humanity. We loathe them!"
Jesus put his hands on his hips and gave me an amused, quizzical stare. "Bradley Masterson Jacobite," he began, "I have been watching you crazy kids for two millennia. You've killed more of your own people than the last Earth I revisited, and its nickname was 'Death Wasteland.' I think I know your history a little better than you!" he finished with an infuriatingly smug air.
"Jesus, please..." I searched desperately for some traction. "Sometimes our leaders just make very bad decisions. Most of us are good-hearted and kind and we want what's best for..."
"Bradley," Jesus interrupted, "I know this is hard for you. Believe me, when I was a mortal carpenter, my own dad pressured me into some pretty crazy stuff. Heretic. Prophet. Martyr. Do you think I wanted any of that? But my dad knew it was in my best interest, and you can bet I thanked him and apologized when I ascended!"
"But we won't ascend!" I insisted. "We'll just keep suffering and dying and wondering what possible demographic Justin Bieber still appeals to and..."
"My son," Jesus said, "you cannot fight the current of your destiny, just as I could not fight mine." His face took on a softer, almost sympathetic expression. "Why don't you come have some cookies? I can stream us a live feed of the U.S. land invasion into Canada!" | 2016-04-20T21:02:42 | 2016-04-20T19:31:33 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You just died in a terrible, violent manner. You read "reloading quick save... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." before being revived 5 seconds before you die again and read the message once more. Can you break out of the never ending loop? | *knock knock*
"Yes, come in. The door is open."
*BANG!*
**Reloading quick save... 5...4...3...2...1**
*knock knock*
What....My god, it has worked! I am alive! But...who shot me? Who wears the balaclava and knows of my wor-
*BANG!*
**Reloading quick save... 5...4...3...2...1**
I must lock the door!
*click*
*knock knock*
Ah, he tries the handle, but not this time!
I need help. I will phone the hotel lobby and get the police here.
*knock knock knock*
"I know you are you in there professor. I must talk to you!"
I know that voice.. but that's not possible!
"Ah, yes, hello, there is a crazed man outside of my room - 202. No! Call the police immediately, he has a gun and wi-
*BANG!*
The lock is blown!
*BANG!*
**Reloading quick save... 5...4...3...2...1**
*click*
The window, I must be quick!
My god, two stories is higher than one would have thought! Perhaps if I step around the ledge to another rooms window.
That voice, it belonged to Markus - he was once my most promising student - but he is long dead...
*knock knock*
Carefully does it... it is very windy. Careful-
**Reloading quick save... 5...4...3...2...1**
*click*
I must make a rope from the blankets!
*knock knock*
Not long enough, I need the towels too.
*knock knock knock*
There! And now to tie them to the railing!
Slowly does it...
*BANG!*
He is in but I am already down. Now I must hurry, I must get to my lab!
*BEEEEP!*
**Reloading quick save... 5...4...3...2...1**
| I think the scariest thing you can run into in a forest is bear cubs. Why cubs and not an actual full grown bear you ask? Well you see, if you run into an adult bear you can probably get away from it if you follow some simple guidelines. Don't run, back away slowly; if everything fails play dead. What's so terrifying about cubs is that somewhere in the near vicinity of those adorable miniature monsters is a volatile frenzy of sharp claws and teeth that will absolutely fuck you up for the mere reason of existing near her precious offspring. Even knowing this, my first thought was "Look at those adorable bastards".
Of course the reality of the situation became evident as I was speeding towards the ground at superhuman speed after being tackled by a pissed off 400 pound grizzly. I would like to say that I fought back valiantly, but it was done in a matter of seconds, a tug here and there, a swift bite to the neck and fade to black.
That should've been it, except I was now floating above my mangled body, slowly pulling away while flashing numbers counted down from 5. I had no control 4... I was left just an spectator 3... of the carnage that had brought me to my end 2... maybe this was the afterlife 1... "reloading quicksave".
And there it was again, the puncturing feeling of my killers teeth on my neck 5... "What the hell is going on?" 4... "Am I dead?" 3.... "Wasn't I dead the first time" 2... "Oh GOD HERE IT COMES AGAIN" 1....
It took me 1000 cycles to finish a coherent thought. That's kinda slow you might think, but things tend to get blurry when you are being murdered every 5 seconds. Specially if at most what you can do with your brief conscious moments is yell before your neck gets ripped open again; The whole being killed over and over part really takes away from the trascendental out of body meditation experience.
5... "Is this hell?" 4... "was I really that much of a bad person?" 3.... "I bought those girl scout cookies that one time" 2.... "damn it this is just like that one timed I freaked out playing Half-Life and pressed F5 just before that stupid hydra mauled me to..." 1... "WAIT! how did I get out of that one?"....
"LOAD PREVIOUS SAVE!!!!" I screamed right before the creature had time to bite down... and then it was gone, I was standing somewhere in the forest but the mauling had stopped, I was finally free... and then I saw the fucking cubs again.
| 2016-04-29T20:49:37 | 2016-04-29T19:49:06 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] - You are an angel of heaven. Angels are tasked with creating animals to populate the earth. You are called into God's office to discuss your finished project - the platypus. | "Ralph, God is ready to see you now"
Welcome Ralph, how are things going for you? Being dead is a big adjustment then to have Angelic status on top of that is a big step
It's been great! I wish I could talk to my family but watching over them is good enough for me. Sounds morbid but, they'll join me up here some day.
That's good to hear. Well, lets get right to it. You made this correct? And you called it the Platypus.
Yes sir! It's the first in my line of Super Animals. I have so man ideas, a horse with a horn on its head, a monkey that has wings, sharks with feathers. It's going to be great! It'll take evolution to an entirely new level!
Umm look.. Ralph.. did you read the code books when you took this position? Because we have a strict set of guide lines to follow and this is a bit of a mess. And unfortunately it's already been released.
A mess? But why?
Look Ralph I'm going to give you a second chance.
But God!
Ralph, you can't have a duck looking otter thing with some claws and call it done. The damn thing lays eggs for crying out loud. The last time someone screwed up this bad we got seals. They forgot the legs Ralph. We had to go back in time and give them flippers as a quick fix and now we have the creepy looking alien dog monsters that are terrifying. Have you ever tried to pet a seal? I made this entire universe and I'm getting chills here thinking about the insane death barrels. I even tried to get mankind to cull the bastards by making their flippers tasty and their fur fashionable. But no, humans decided they were cute as babies so they protested to stop the seal hunt. They were a mistake Ralph, a huge, blubbery, fish eating, stupid noise making mistake. And you went and done it again. How are fathers suppose to look at their daughters and say "honey, that's a platypus", it looks like you just copied and pasted parts of past projects together to see what it would look like and accidentally clicked print, this is a major screw up Ralph. And I'm sick and tired to screwing up time because of people like you. Now I have to go back and make changes, want to know what happened last time I made changes? The Holocaust Ralph. THE FREAKING HOLOCAUST. Do you even understand how serious that was? I made that mistake trying to fix another mistake made by someone like you. Everyone thinks that being God is so great. I started out just like you but I DIDN'T SCREW UP. I applied for this position because of people like you Ralph. People just like you that don't have the common sense to THINK about their actions before they go playing with life. Now I'm about to have a break down trying to comprehend why we hire so many people JUST. LIKE. YOU.
God... ummm
NO RALPH. You think this is some kind of joke? Do you? Hun? You think it's funny to go screwing around with every I and the seven previous Gods have worked so hard for? You know what I think is funny? I'm going to fire up the reincarnation system again, and I'm going to send you back to earth AS A PLATYPUS. HAVE FUN LAYING EGGS AND LOOKING LIKE A GOOSE RAN INTO A SMALL DOG WITH DEFORMED LEGS AND BECAME ONE USELESS WASTE OF SPACE ON THE FOOD CHAIN I SO CAREFULLY BALANCED. ARE YOU HAPPY RALPH?
Wow. This isn't how I expected this to go at all.
I QUIT. IM DONE DEALING WITH STUFF LIKE THIS EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. DONE! SATAN OFFERED ME A CUSHY POSITION AS HIS ADVISORY, I THINK ILL GO GIVE HIM A CALL.
So... does this mean I can apply to be God?
Get the hell out of my office Ralph. | I knocked on the door in tune to Hallelujah. It was the Jeff Buckly version. We might have just made the animals, but damn if he didn't know how to make a calming song.
The marble door opened out of my way and let me into the big office. I'd been here once before, the day I'd been made. There were six couches all scattered around the room in no particular order. There were white picture frames showing God and his kid hanging out near a cross. There was pearl tiling and snowflake lampshades. In the middle of it all, there was an oak desk.
The woman sitting behind it was God. At least it was what an immortal genderless being looked like at the moment. Dyed pink hair tied back like it was her first day on the job. Her ocean eyes sparkled at seeing me walk it. She motioned for me to join her and the couch closest to the desk twisted itself into a chair.
I took a seat.
"Hello," I said, "it's been a while."
"That it has uh-"
"Aalok," I finished for her.
God was now an old man who looked like he'd spent one too many days in the sun. "Right right Aalok, how are you?"
"Fine," I said.
"Nothing wrong?" he asked. He had dyed hair and glasses again.
"Should there be something wrong?" I asked.
"Well you uh-" She pulled at her collar and changed into a young boy for a moment. He looked like he was dressed for his grade eight grad. "I just saw your submission to the animal kingdom and I was wondering-"
"What?"
"What's up with it?" he asked before becoming the bubblegum haired girl again. He seemed to like that form today.
"I just made what I thought of," I said, "all in the plan right?"
"Uh yeah-yeah."
"You don't sound very confident," I said to the omniscient omnipresent being.
"It's just- wel-" she let the L hang for several years, "I didn't really see that thing coming."
"What?"
"It lays eggs."
"How did you not see it coming?"
"Sorry, you have free will, how the shit was I supposed to guess-" she waved over the table and a picture of my cute little Duck-Beaver came up, "this?"
"But you have the grand plan."
"Have you tried playing chess when the pieces have free will?" she asked, "because you shouldn't. It isn't a fun game."
I gave her a blank stare.
"Look the point is that I can take an educated guess at what's going to happen and shape small things while giving you free will, but I can't like-" she spun the picture of my Duck-Beaver around, "it lays eggs man."
"Are you telling me that I made something that you didn't forsee?" I asked.
"Yes," she shrugged, "don't worry. It's not that big a deal. I can stick it in Australia with the rest of the.... interesting animals. It's not like you started the 'Giant Killer Lizard' craze."
"I like Apatosaurus thanks."
"I think you took that in the right direction too but-"
"So you really can't see everything?"
"I can see everything once it's happened, but you have free will. You throw some curve balls and sometimes-" God changed back into the old man, "curve balls go to Australia."
"You don't control everything?" I asked again.
"You're really sticking on that, but no. I don't micromanage, it would be way too many buttons."
"All right," I said, "sorry about the duck beaver sir."
"We are not calling it that."
"All right," I said, "am I good to go?"
"Yeah, I'm going to transfer you away from that section though, you mind?"
"No, no no it's all good. Don't worry about me."
"Wait, before you go-" God said, now the little boy again, "could you keep the lack of omniscience thing between us. I don't want anyone who isn't an Arch Angel knowing that."
"Don't worry about it," I said, "thanks for keeping the duck beaver around."
"No problem, everyone makes mistakes."
I sighed at that. The duck beaver wasn't a mistake. It was interesting, different. I knew from that point forward we were going to need to take more of a lead on Earth. If God didn't see everything then who was God to make decisions? I looked back to the room as the door dissipated.
This was the catalyst, or my name wasn't Ellen. | 2016-05-15T10:12:30 | 2016-05-15T10:11:32 | 1,052 | 82 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | I was up late, as I had chose not to go to sleep. My covers were pulled up to my shoulder, and I was laying on my left side browsing Writing Prompts on Reddit. Mom didn't like me being up so late on school nights, but I didn't really care.
The lights were off, and the shadows illuminated from the many objects located in my room. The TV was on, and the "Press OK to watch TV" line had me tempted to press OK.
After a few minutes of browsing, I decided to watch a bit of TV. I pressed the OK button on my remote.
Oh hell no.
A woman's voice, "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE."
Cold sweat, and my heart skipped a beat.
I quickly exited out the message and hid under my covers for a minute, contemplating what the fuck just happened. Maybe it was just a prank. But on TV!? No, it had to be something more.
I grabbed my covers and prompt them over my body, and as if any alien creature was outside, I would not want them to see my very naked body. I grabbed my phone and quickly turned it on, seeing my "I love the illuminati 666" background, quickly regretting the choice of choosing it.
Once I got passed the unlock screen, I quickly opened up the Messanger app and tried to message my friend. Only then did I realize the internet was down. "Fuck. Me." was the only thing I breathed out.
Running down the stairs and almost tripping, I see that Grandpa is asleep on the couch. Good, because if he was awake it would be a panicky shitstorm.
I quickly raced to the kitchen, being wary of my pupper. Then I remembered about the black radio we kept near the stove. It was turned on, and instead of playing music...I quickly turned it up.
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND."
I'm about to faint at this point.
I glance at my pupper. He is sleeping.
I quickly race over to him and pick the little shit up, being careful of not bothering him. I did not expect Tobi to do what he did next, which was biting me on my finger. I gasp and immediately put the fucker down.
I just about screamed out loud when I saw his face.
Two completely red eyes, foam dripping out of his mouth, and blood pouring out from his nose. "Holy shit!" Hot tears formed in my eyes. I do a panicky climb up onto the counter, and slowly make my way over towards the cabinet where the knives were.
I don't want to kill my pupper.
But if this is rabies, then my pupper is far too gone.
And if it is an alien invasion, then we're both fucked.
Just as I was about to try and ninja my way out of the kitchen, I can hear growling coming from the living room. | WELL....WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?
....I don't know, Janet, I heard-
DO WE STAY IN OR GO OUT?
...I DON'T-
This is a joke right, Tim? Right?
...
RIGHT?
Shut UP! I'm trying to THINK!
How can we stay indoors and evacuate to high ground without looking outside?
...I....I....
Tim......say something....
This has to be a prank or something! Some kind of...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE! WE REPEAT, STAY INDOORS..."
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND"
Who the HELL is sending this?...Tim, I'm freaking the FUCK out. This doesn't SOUND like a joke.
Okay, I'll look outside and see wh-
NO YOU FUCKING WON'T! NO WAY! The TV said DONT look outside. If we do ANYTHING we do it together. We STICK TOGETHER! Okay?....Tim?
You're right...go down together, in flames or glory.
Tim. This is NOT the time for your asshole theatrics. We could be fucking dying...
OR....we could be subject to a social experiment...or a hidden camera show...or Darrel is being a dick...or-
OR WE COULD BE ABOUT TO DIE!
Or we could be about to die...
You're an asshole, you know that right?
I know.
Good.
So, Jan, what do you think?
I think if you call me Jan again then you DEFINITELY won't be getting out alive.
Soz.
Fuck you... ...I think that you're right, nothing has happened yet...at all. For the minute we're safe.
But that could change...
It could.....
....what the fuck is going on?
I think I asked you that first...
Yeah...
"STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE"
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND, YOU DO NOT HAVE MUCH TIME"
Okay Jan....et, this is really freaking me out. I think we should stay in. If we die at least we won't see it coming. Whatever...IT is.
I....I was just thinking we should...leave.
Oh balls...
Well there's Carsons Hill like a quarter mile away, we could be up there in about 25 minutes.
We have to stay together. We have to choose.
Sooo.....flip a coin?
You're going to potentially let our lives hang in the balance of a coin toss?
......um.....yeah?
......
.....
Well, I can't think of anything else to do. It's been nice knowing yah, Janet.
Heads we leave, tails we stay....
WAIT!
What?!...wha-
Best of three or....
Fuck OFF, Tim. One coin toss. One decision. One outcome. One....really annoying boyfriend.
RIGHT......I have a silver dollar...I'll use that...HEADS IT IS! ....who was heads again?
THAT MEANS WE'RE LEAVING THE FUCKING HOUSE, TIMOTHY!
Yeah...that sounds....adventurous.
It does doesn't it?
Not really.
Grow a pair. Seriously.
Jan, whatever happens, know that I love you. Like, all of you.
I love you too, and don't ever call me Jan again.
.....
See Tim, there's nothing to be-
OH SHI-
--FIN-- | 2017-01-27T01:49:21 | 2017-01-26T22:44:53 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] You are the first level boss of a video game, the easiest one to kill out of all the bosses. You have also killed the main character. | Nezumi looked upon his red-stained paws and wailed.
He hadn't expected the blood - he hadn't expected *any* blood at all, save his own. The hero of legend was supposed to be strong, nigh immortal, but the boy...the boy had been...
Weak.
Three times he had checked the corpse, and three times he had found all the signs. The birthmark, in the shape of a lotus on his shoulder. The sword of legend, hanging limply in his lifeless hands where they lay upon the stone. He had expected to feel that sword, to feel it burning away at the evil he knew was in his heart as it tore at his body. He had expected to die.
Yet still, he lived.
The boy had cowered at the sight of him, shaking with fear before the giant rat. In his hands, the blade of twisted wood and shining metal was as useless as the branch from which it had been made. How he had cried, when Nezumi had torn into him with his fangs. But Nezumi hadn't stopped. He thought it was a trick, that all of it was just a farce, and at any moment the boy might swing at him and fell him with a single stroke. Instead, his teeth had gnawed until he tasted marrow, and the boy had died.
Why? Why must it be so? He had never intended to kill the child! He was merely the first trial - a being cursed by the gods for stealing from their hearth, both man and rodent in equal measure. He wasn't supposed to kill anyone - he was supposed to die, and in dying be redeemed. Now, it seemed as if the world would fall to darkness instead.
He couldn't let it.
At first, he had tossed the idea away. It was folly, after all. He was a monster, cursed for all time to be nothing more than the first obstacle of a real hero. He deserved nothing. Yet the longer he waited, the longer he realized that there was no choice. The hero was dead, dead and gone. He would never wield the blade again. As mighty as it might be, the sword still needed living flesh to hold it - and despite his sorry state, Nezumi was the only living flesh around.
He picked it up, half expecting the thing to burst into flames at his touch. To his surprise, it was merely warm - warm, and pulsing with life. Despite the evil that Nezumi new must be in his heart, the blade still glowed. Experimentally, he swung the weapon, marveling at the way it left a constellation of sparks in its wake. Perhaps it was some magic, some trick built into the hilt, but it fit his unusual hand to perfection. It was as if it had been made just for him.
Nezumi nodded, and with one last look at the fallen youth, began to walk toward the second trial. | "Um...boss?"
"Yes, what is it— Wait, Metal Man?" I can hear Dr. Light's shock oozing through the phone, permeating the countless miles that lie between us. "How are you contacting me?"
"I— Well, normally, I wouldn't because, um, you understand, I betrayed you to go fight with Dr. Wily—"
"Yes, yes, I know. He reversed your programming, I should say," Dr. Light replies, although he still sounds hostile. "Have you managed to re-reverse it?"
And disbelieving, too.
"Um, no." I don't blame his disbelief.... Well, that's putting it mildly. "I— I— I killed— I killed—"
"Metal Man," Dr. Light says warningly, as though he's telling me not to go on. "Don't tell me—one of your brothers? Proto Man?"
"Mega Man," I say in shame, and hang my head, seeing, with the movement, the blue-clad body lying before me. I sigh and close the eyes, tuck the hair more securely underneath the helmet. "I killed him."
"But he just— He just left to go get you— You're the first boss!" Dr. Light cries. "He was so ready after the first six a few months ago—we thought he could take this.
"I know, I know! And normally I wouldn't have tried to do anything. I would have just tried to...knock him out, you know? Turn off his programming or whatever. But, Dr. Light...he was goading me."
"Goading you?" he says, his voice disbelieving again.
"Yes! He was all like, 'You're the first boss, bitch, I don't need a special power to take your shit.' And I.... I couldn't take it anymore. So I just...." I let the sentence hang, still gesticulating wildly as I talk to Dr. Light on the commlink.
"Well, I'm sure his programming can be restored.... Is Proto Man still on your side?"
"Yes, I think so," I reply cautiously. "I haven't heard anything to the contrary."
"Yeah, I figured as much. I'll send Roll," he goes on, annoyed. "Try not to bitch-slap her, okay?"
"My beef was with...," I begin, but the commlink's connection has already snapped shut, our tenuous link severed.
I sigh and pick up the small body. "What was I thinking?" I whisper to Mega Man's corpse. I put him back down, then blink once and check the clock. "It's a pity Roll doesn't live far, because that means she'll be coming soon. If she weren't...I would have loved to do a little *Weekend at Bernie's* with you, you know?"
Of course, there's no answer, and I feel like even more of a jackhammer for having said it. I grumble angrily and kneel, flipping the body over, looking for the panel that conceals his programming. I do feel bad for what I did...I'm only the first boss. Like, killing the good guy should have been Dr. Wily's job, you know? I don't need this on my conscience. I've got enough on my plate already, and it's not even dinnertime yet.
The door clicks open an hour later, and I rocket up to my feet. "Roll? Oh, you're here, you can help me, thank goodness—I didn't know I was going to become a murderer today...." | 2017-05-01T21:32:56 | 2017-05-01T20:35:44 | 67 | 15 |
[WP] A literal genie – one who cruelly twists someone's wish, based on their exact words – must explain why they granted a child's wish without repercussions, to their superiors. The genie tries to spin the reasoning behind their benevolent actions into a malevolent light.
Edit: All these stories are amazing! | I sat down at the desk in the middle of the room, trying to still my nervousness. It wasn't easy considering I was facing the Council of Genies. Yes we have a council. How else do you control beings of phenomenal cosmic power? I sat and fidgeted while the 5 council members filed in and sat at their much larger and more intimidating table.
"Let us call this inquiry to order," intoned the head genie, one of the first of our kind. He looks at the files before him and then gazes at me seriously. "Now. You have been called to this inquiry for your most recent actions. Please recount the incident."
I gulped and straightened. "Well I was on duty that day, August 12th, and found an enchanted object being rubbed. I went as summoned and found the recipient to be a 6 year old child. She had found an old lamp in her family home and wanted to see if the legends were true."
The council members nodded and the lead gestured for me to continue. "Turns out it was her birthday and she wanted a wish. I informed her that two wishes were already used against the lamp so she could only have the one. She thought for some time and made the request. I granted it and left."
Another council member spoke up. "What was the wish?"
"For her father to stop drinking and her family to be happier."
"That sounds like more than one wish to me."
"Well it was said in one statement and it was her birthday after all."
"That's a technicality."
"A core fundamental to the genie ideal is rigid technicality."
The council chuckled and I felt my hopes raise a little. "Be that as it may, sentiment has no place for a genie's job. Please explain how you granting her wish would be the opposite of what she wanted."
"For example wouldn't it be fair to have her father die from not drinking anything anymore? Or for her family to crave happiness above everything else?" Offered another council member.
I nodded slowly and marshaled my thoughts. "True. What I did was examine her possible future given the options of granting her wish or not. Yes if I did the obvious line of reasoning the girl would have had to be given to adoption, having a long life of grim distaste for happiness."
The council murmured in agreement. "That seems to go with our procedures." Another member remarked.
"True." I agreed. "However, by changing the father's alcoholic tendencies and changing family priorities I have guaranteed her a far more suffering life." I smiled at the council's looks of confusion. "Now she will have a happy family that will stay with her her entire life. They will question her, meddle in her affairs, nag her relentlessly. Her father will take a huge part of her life and embarrass her relentlessly."
The council members looked at each other and whispered. "That is...an interesting perspective. One might say the former possibility provides more distinct suffering."
"Suffering is subjective. It is impossible to qualify the quantity depending on the individual."
More chuckles from me quoting the book. "Well one may say that she well end up liking that suffering. Wouldn't that also go against our ideals?"
I shrugged. "Masochism is an uncontrollable characteristic."
More laughter. After a few moments of quiet conversation the head council member looked at me. "Well, you performed to the letter of the law so no punishment for today. Your sense of consequence is unique but not warranting censure."
I rise and bow. "Thank you, I live to serve." The room bursts into laughter as we leave. | “You know the rules, Jeff. You’re a genie, for God’s sake. Who do you think you are, Robin Bloody Williams?”
“I am under no such illusions, sir. Sorry, but is it really necessary to use so much profanity?”
In all of his 557 years, Brian was certain he had never encountered such a pussy.
“Jeff, I’m going to need you to focus on the issue at hand. You have consistently assured us for almost a year now - that the trick is coming with this kid. But all I’m seeing is a… blooming… treat. The kid is having a whale of a time.”
Jeff fidgeted slightly in his seat and averted his gaze from the Big Kahuna.
“Well, the thing is, you see… I mean, the child had cancer. Terminal cancer at 7 years old. I didn’t really feel like things could get much more… um, trickier, for him.”
“Would it kill you to string a sentence together without a non-sequitur, man? This shit doesn’t fly with the Council, you know this. A kid with cancer is tragic, no doubt – but so is a Genie who won’t do his bloody job. Now, take a breath, use that limited brain capacity, and explain yourself!”
Jeff nodded solemnly, and met the older Genie’s gaze squarely.
“Sir, how old are you?”
“I hardly see how that is relevant.”
“Please sir, I’m trying to explain myself.”
“Alright, I’ll humour you. I’m 557 years old.”
“Exactly! You have a wealth of experience, and even you cannot recognise the twist in the tale. That’s why it’s such a doozey! A real hum-dinger.”
“You really are an idiot, Jeff. Go on then, what’s this amazing twist?”
“You’ll just kick yourself when I tell you sir, you really will. It’s elegant in its simplicity. Next week, young Rupert turns 8 years old. His favourite celebrity is the Rock. Well, Mr. Johnson has finally been convinced to join the ranks of the Make a Wish Foundation. I predicted that, if I do say so myself. Guess who has been cancer free for almost a whole year, and misses out on meeting their idol. Boom! Get tricked, son!”
The 5 members of the Council were rendered utterly speechless. Leeroy’s jaw quite literally dropped.
“You cannot be serious. You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking. There is no way you are attempting to convince us that you are in the know enough to predict the movements of the Rock. Actor, Wrestler, Comedian - the man is a Goddamn triple threat. He’s a tour de force! But putting that aside for a second the kid wa- he does his own stunts! Name another Hollywood leading man who honestly can say that. Jeff, I can’t even look at you right now.”
“I agree, sir. Imagine then, if you had an opportunity to meet the man himself, and it was cruelly snatched away from you.”
“Look, it’s no secret that Genies fucking love the Rock, but there is no way we are going to agree that this was acceptable behaviour. Pack up your things, Jeff, you’re done. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
“I understand, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I want to head to the hospital one last time. Jeff and the Rock are supposed to be there in an hour.”
“Get out of our sight, Jeff.”
“Wait a minute, Kahuna. You said Jeff? Who are you referring to? Not Jeff Goldblum?”
“The one and only.”
“Fuck off!”
“The Blumanator? There’s no way…”
“Brian, think about this for a second. The kid lives to 300 and he doesn’t miss a better opportunity. I never thought I’d say this, but Jeff has bloody done it. He’s bamboozled that poor kid. I doubted him for a second, but the man is a stone cold killer.”
Jeff smiled to himself. What luck that none of the Council knew that he likes to refer to himself in the third person. Whoever this Jeff Goldblum bloke was, he was going to buy him a beer…
| 2017-08-17T06:07:10 | 2017-08-17T04:43:13 | 2,747 | 597 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The Thief sat in a bar. It wasn’t a nice bar; it wasn’t a *clean* bar; it was dank and shadowy and grim. Just like the Immortal Thief himself.
So long ago, the Thief had stolen immortality and as a curse, Death let him have it. Well, that backfired spectacularly. The Thief enjoyed himself, enormously. He had stolen the heart of one of Death’s daughters right after and Fate was a kind and generous soul to the Thief. She was beautiful and funny and loving to him. And after he had proven himself by stealing his own immortal nature, she left with him.
Two Ages later, and the Thief was still thieving, still plotting, still wanting more. So, like the thief he was, he took that too. Fate had delivered on her promise that she would make sure that he never died of boredom. He had lived a good life, but Death still periodically came.
Just. Like. *Now.*
“Son,” cried Death, greeting him with joviality and cheer. The old man really did like his son-in-law, much more than some of his other relations. The Thief smiled, a little sad this time. “I have a proposition this time!”
The elder immortal smiled hopefully at the younger. “How would you like my job?” | "Death, my existence has turned into suffering," I said. "My very bones ache, my skin is weathered. My body became nothing but a green leaf shriveling in autumn's time."
Death chuckled like a five year old, hiting his ball joint as he crouched slightly. "Immortality, a game only a few can play Darren," he said. "If you please, I can end your suffering with a single swing of my scythe."
I grabbed him by the clavicle, "Death, I have something to confess."
He cocked his skull, "are you afraid of the pain my scythe will provoke to your soul?"
I shook my head, "no, it's much worse."
He clinked his fingers against his mandible, as if thinking. "Are you afraid of Hell? You know it doesn't exist, right?"
"I'm not afraid of those mundane things Death, I'm not afraid at all," I said, locking my gaze in his hollowness. "I love you Death."
He hesitated, words dying on his trachea. "Y-you lo-love me?" he stammered.
I nodded, "as deeply as the void of your existence."
"Darren, I swear, together we can make eternity bareable," Death said with a grin and hugged me.
I burst into laughter, "did you believe me, you pervert? What is this called, humanphilia?"
Death hesitated once again, "what are you implying Darren? You weren't lying I smelled the scent of your soul, it was pure!"
"Death, it's been 50000 years. I know all your secrets, maybe you should learn what April fools day is," I said and patted his spine. "You are weird old friend but you blessed me. I will be in Bora Bora if you need anything."
"Motherf—"
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more not so great stories | 2017-12-01T11:49:56 | 2017-11-29T12:47:04 | 2,040 | 149 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The Thief sat in a bar. It wasn’t a nice bar; it wasn’t a *clean* bar; it was dank and shadowy and grim. Just like the Immortal Thief himself.
So long ago, the Thief had stolen immortality and as a curse, Death let him have it. Well, that backfired spectacularly. The Thief enjoyed himself, enormously. He had stolen the heart of one of Death’s daughters right after and Fate was a kind and generous soul to the Thief. She was beautiful and funny and loving to him. And after he had proven himself by stealing his own immortal nature, she left with him.
Two Ages later, and the Thief was still thieving, still plotting, still wanting more. So, like the thief he was, he took that too. Fate had delivered on her promise that she would make sure that he never died of boredom. He had lived a good life, but Death still periodically came.
Just. Like. *Now.*
“Son,” cried Death, greeting him with joviality and cheer. The old man really did like his son-in-law, much more than some of his other relations. The Thief smiled, a little sad this time. “I have a proposition this time!”
The elder immortal smiled hopefully at the younger. “How would you like my job?” | You've become a famous author, with best selling books on how to get over a break up, how to live with yourself after a loved one has passed, how to maintain a successful small business, how to grow your business, and many others. Fifty thousand years has given you the chance to experiment with everything life has to offer. You have made so much money that the entire world has entered a golden age, as you have paid off all of the worlds debt. Hell, all of those small islands off of America's coast? You own them.
Recently, Death has been visiting you. Before, he only showed up whenever a loved one would have died. Obviously, after taking their soul to deliver to the correct domain, he would stop by your house, inform you where the loved one was going (you had quite a few that were going to hell. So many secrets surfaced about your family in those times.) and ask if you were ready to die. Instead, you wanted to use your immortality to do something good for the world. Which you have. He stopped visiting you after a while.
Lately, however, he started coming about every ten years. The frequency of his visits are increasing, though. God is **pissed**. He thought that Deaths plan was genius at first, and allowed him to bestow immortality on you since that's almost exclusively the only thing you would pray for, or ask for on holidays. Now, however, he's realized you are basically being worshipped as a god. Some countries have a religion based around "that American who has been alive for centuries, and has single handedly made the world a better place.
Death knows he can't simply break his own contract, but he seems to be getting clever. God has given him the authority to take whomever's life he feels would change your mind about immortality, and he has been exercising this authority quite often. But fifty thousand years has hardened you to the passing away of others. All of this is making you want to defy them more. God is getting scared. | 2017-12-01T11:49:56 | 2017-11-28T14:15:37 | 2,040 | 29 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | You've become a famous author, with best selling books on how to get over a break up, how to live with yourself after a loved one has passed, how to maintain a successful small business, how to grow your business, and many others. Fifty thousand years has given you the chance to experiment with everything life has to offer. You have made so much money that the entire world has entered a golden age, as you have paid off all of the worlds debt. Hell, all of those small islands off of America's coast? You own them.
Recently, Death has been visiting you. Before, he only showed up whenever a loved one would have died. Obviously, after taking their soul to deliver to the correct domain, he would stop by your house, inform you where the loved one was going (you had quite a few that were going to hell. So many secrets surfaced about your family in those times.) and ask if you were ready to die. Instead, you wanted to use your immortality to do something good for the world. Which you have. He stopped visiting you after a while.
Lately, however, he started coming about every ten years. The frequency of his visits are increasing, though. God is **pissed**. He thought that Deaths plan was genius at first, and allowed him to bestow immortality on you since that's almost exclusively the only thing you would pray for, or ask for on holidays. Now, however, he's realized you are basically being worshipped as a god. Some countries have a religion based around "that American who has been alive for centuries, and has single handedly made the world a better place.
Death knows he can't simply break his own contract, but he seems to be getting clever. God has given him the authority to take whomever's life he feels would change your mind about immortality, and he has been exercising this authority quite often. But fifty thousand years has hardened you to the passing away of others. All of this is making you want to defy them more. God is getting scared. | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T14:15:37 | 935 | 29 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | The longer I observe his life...The angrier I seem. 50,000 years ago I tried to perform a little experiment, I would turn a mortal immortal, and allow him to see first hand the suffering immortality brings you- I was eagerly anticipating seeing him break down as he lives longer than all his friends- as he watches his children die of old age in front of him, seeing him snap until he comes to me and begs for my sweet embrace. Yet today he is still happy, he has another family and is constantly surprised by all of the new inventions he's able to see humankind create. For the past 1,000..or was it 10,000? It's been so long I have trouble keeping track of time, time begins to lose meaning when you've been alive for so long. What was I saying again? Ah yes- I stopped paying attention to him for the past 10,000 years, I got too envious. How could this man still be happy?! He's witnessed generations of his family die out, he's witnessed thousands of friends die. Although...This might not be too bad, this man may be the perfect candidate for my replacement. A thousand years after I was offered immortality a long time ago by the Death of my era, I came begging to him for release so we made a deal, I would serve as the new Death but I can choose when to move on as long as I find a suitable replacement. If this fool still enjoys his immortality, he may like this job a lot more than I do- After all I've been doing this for far too long. I don't even remember what it feels like to be mortal. Lets see if this fool still enjoys immortality after he becomes the Grim Reaper. Maybe I'll finally be able to laugh at him from beyond the grave as he realizes what a mistake he made. (First time doing this, I hope I did OK.) | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T15:48:47 | 935 | 12 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | The old man sat alone and waited for Death.
It always came this time of year; just before spring, in the last days of long nights and long shadows. There was no fanfare to his arrival. Death simply was where it once wasn't - namely, at the seat across from the old man.
"Are you ready?"
Death's voice was, much like its owner, just there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Every year, you ask, friend, and every year I say no. You know why. Why don't you just come back when my duty's done?"
"Duty, is it now," Death responded casually. "Last year it was your joy."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The old man fiddled with a toy.
"Come on, Nick," Death said, breaking the silence. "You aren't needed here anymore. They'll manage without you. Just take my hand."
"No," said the old man, and Death was gone.
Saint Nicholas put down the now completed toy. He looked around his tiny cottage, searching the walls for a name without a check.
"Suzy Hope," he muttered, addressed the toy, and started a new one.l
| The longer I observe his life...The angrier I seem. 50,000 years ago I tried to perform a little experiment, I would turn a mortal immortal, and allow him to see first hand the suffering immortality brings you- I was eagerly anticipating seeing him break down as he lives longer than all his friends- as he watches his children die of old age in front of him, seeing him snap until he comes to me and begs for my sweet embrace. Yet today he is still happy, he has another family and is constantly surprised by all of the new inventions he's able to see humankind create. For the past 1,000..or was it 10,000? It's been so long I have trouble keeping track of time, time begins to lose meaning when you've been alive for so long. What was I saying again? Ah yes- I stopped paying attention to him for the past 10,000 years, I got too envious. How could this man still be happy?! He's witnessed generations of his family die out, he's witnessed thousands of friends die. Although...This might not be too bad, this man may be the perfect candidate for my replacement. A thousand years after I was offered immortality a long time ago by the Death of my era, I came begging to him for release so we made a deal, I would serve as the new Death but I can choose when to move on as long as I find a suitable replacement. If this fool still enjoys his immortality, he may like this job a lot more than I do- After all I've been doing this for far too long. I don't even remember what it feels like to be mortal. Lets see if this fool still enjoys immortality after he becomes the Grim Reaper. Maybe I'll finally be able to laugh at him from beyond the grave as he realizes what a mistake he made. (First time doing this, I hope I did OK.) | 2017-11-28T17:24:04 | 2017-11-28T15:48:47 | 16 | 12 |
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