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] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | *A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium. | 3 Things Every Loofah Supply Chain NEEDS To Be Competitive In Today's Market
In 2015, Forbes magazine estimated that the loofah market was poised to receive exponential growth increases of up to 30% per annum! Wow! Who knew that a silly little sponge could produce so much profit.
Growth industries like loofah and loofah futures need to be package-handled carefully. To help you, we created these set of helpful tips in order to help you.
**1) Source Your Sponges**
Source Your Sponges (SYS) is a key and critical concept that is extremely important; one that ALL loofah exchanges need to be aware of. Simply put, SYS is the ability of a company or enterprise to properly procure and maintain the necessary supply chains in order to ensure maximum product quality and the lowest possible price point.
It's simple!
Mastering SYS is a sure fire way to make sure that your loofahs will be on top of your game!
2) **"Fleeb" is the hot new thing!**
After being featured on the hit TV show "How They Do It", the humble fleet has been seeing a surge in popularity in a variety of different applications. The little google-eyed sponges, originally used in the making of plumbuses,have a variety of other applications that can be a surfire way to add profit to your portfolio!
**3) Perseverance and Determination!**
The world of loofah production is a highly competitive and sometimes even a dangerous one, with loofah crawlers constantly being lost to storms and sometimes even piracy! But as the exotic and luxury loofah market continues to heat up, it will be a race to the finish of anyone looking to get into the game!
Follow us on LinkedIn and Twitter @loffahsource for more ways to jumpstart your loofah based enterprise!
| 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T20:53:28 | 147 | 90 |
[WP] You were born comatose. Recently, a revolutionary procedure connected your brain directly to the internet. This is your first internet post. | "E,W SF AF OJAEWF IJEA'/FOLJU'U9'U u u'9oefu arf'u JASGkeralg'm/foae/gjesrakg ;ej/amvksdm/ geargje AOjkeroa g'EAJPOEj agoaegjw'e/ rejfo jgeraojg ds/r;ofgdjsfv ra'sofgpe kraogfjuraegu jeakz;l'v/d loaej "Ouj aeop'ujgpo a 'erg iea g;a'ldjfgpoajg'erpagvje g;lv/e ajg;/e ajo'aAJ g poaejgopraeg ja;'dsfmdslfg;mdas orepgju4wramewao fjegoiaejg ae'j doguja;ogjeaopujwae\ft agoejag'p ojdfg dsfa;glkmdfagopewraik fp0o\9i8322w34 'prujro9p4u 5922'4e i20PRU4 293PRJUFRWOAQEKRJ'j3o jrwop'3ruj w'3r9jaURTW'uj'RJW'wJUUJR;W9U\3RJW\'UQ;RUW\U'\p'p' ' ujo 'uf jsefpos i' ' 'euf ews'poerjw 'eo" - the post said.
The doctor scratched the back of his head, looking at the screen with the wall of gibberish on it.
"Yeah, I don't know what I expected" - he finally said. "But hey, he did create a Facebook account on his own".
________
[Meh.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Scandalist/comments/4n4iu6/authors_message_welcome_new_readers/)
| Can someone please help me?! I just woke up and everything was so dark. I don't know where I am or who I am. They said that my mind had been uploaded to the internet but I don't know what that is. Please if someone can hear this please help! I don't understand this place. Nothing here makes sense. There is so much wonderful stuff, articles with useful information, or real people trying to connect with one another, but everyone seems to only care about the porn and what I've heard people call "memes." You know it's funny I say real people, but I don't even know if any of this is real. The doctors said that I was in a coma, and maybe this is just another dream, or perhaps it's a nightmare. If anyone can here this please help, it's so dark here, no one seems to care what they say or who they offend. I hate it, please help
Edit: I'm very sorry about this. My name is Dr. Leers. I specialize in neurology. This post was a result of a new experimental device that can upload the conscious mind directly to the internet while the patient is asleep. Please, don't be alarmed if our test subject attempts to interact on the internet. He is learning. And that is good. | 2016-09-04T07:14:01 | 2016-09-04T01:23:13 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] You get quite offended when people automatically assume you’re an ILLEGAL necromancer! You worked hard to get your degree/license, and the severed arms you wear around your neck were legally acquired from an organ donor! And you only wear them because they help you channel necrotic energies! | "Can I just get a cup of f***in' coffee? I've been waiting for 20 minutes."
The barista looked at me in disgust, and waved the manager over.
The manager looked at me, clad in a brown leather trenchcoat passed down from generations, with old rips, blood stains, and a few teeth caught in the seams, just sewn over hastily so the coat can still be worn. The look of disgust on his face was so pungent I could taste it.
"We don't allow your kind here. This is a healthy establishment. Doesn't matter if you paid already, you need to leave, and bring your rotting belongings along."
The manager was a bob cutted woman, about 40 years old, and by the looks of her health, I'd probably be reviving her in about 2-3 years from alcohol poisoning from wine. Named Karen. How fitting.
I sighed. Being a third generation necromancer, publically, has a lot of pitfalls. It became legal about 13 years ago, where my parents, and theirs, practiced in the basement as "private doctors" for specific clientele. At least I got proper schooling, licensed and registered nationally, recognized by Hopkins and Stanford with international repertoire, and apparently, cannot even get a cup of black coffee when I'm wearing my work clothes. Although I look like an absolute dumpster, this little book on my left hip, makes my person and affections completely sterile, only handed out to American Necromantic Union for Buried, Infested, and Sanguine, or ANUBIS for short. We were very clever on our acronym.
"I can assure you I'm a licensed necromancer and none of my belongings are a health hazard." I go to lick the bloody skull sitting on the table, and set it down aggressively.
"If I weren't licensed, I'd currently be vomiting, and have extremely aggressive necrotic infection starting here in about three minutes. I'll sit and wait for the cops" I seethed at the manager and the dorky 16 year old barista.
A cup of coffee suddenly appears after a quick spin from the barista from the counter. I sip it slowly, with a sly grin from the corner of my mouth. I wipe the coffee from out of my moustache, and set the empty cup down on the table.
"Thank you for the coffee. I hope you have a rotten day" as I cause the food in the display case under the counter to decay when I walk past.
"Make sure to keep the food fresh, your display looks a little
... Necrotic." | It becomes irritating after a short while. All the staring and hushed whispers. When I had gotten out of school, I though it made me intimidating and cool, like the Necromancers I’d seen in movies. But it’s got irritating having the police called whenever I try and go to out for some mead and a mutton leg. OH, I’M **SORRY** KAREN. DID MY SEVERED APPENDAGES OFFEND YOU? WELL, **I’M** OFFENDED THAT YOU THINK ITS APPROPRIATE TO LET YOUR CROTCH GOBLINS RUN AROUND CAUSING HAVOC (that’s not a figure of speech. Some parents think it’s reasonable to let their green little gremlins run around robbing passerby at knifepoint). I’ll have you know that I received these severed limbs as DONATIONS from others in the medical field. Yes, I do in fact work in the medical field. But suuuuuuuure, give Armedian all the credit because he has the more dignified title of HEALER. Guess what? His powers are bullshit compared to mine. Pssh, who cares if you can fix someone’s boo-boos?
I CAN HEAL THEIR THIRD DEGREE BURNS, BROKEN SPINE, BRAIN HEMORRHAGE AND COLLAPSED LUNGS. And sure, they have to already be ‘dEaD’ for my powers to work, but isn’t that just being... not alive?
Ugh. So stupid. I can’t believe the audacity of some people. All bigots and biased assholes. Susan, if you’re reading this:
**I HAVE A MEDICAL LICENSE, BITCH.**
I got my MEDICAL LICENSE at Sadons University of Celtic and Karmithian Mages for Youth Driven by Intellect, Charisma and Killomonians. Short for SUCKMYDICK. ESPECIALLY YOU SUSAN. | 2021-02-14T13:41:57 | 2021-02-14T13:37:13 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "Excuse me sir, but this doesn't seem right? Are you sure you have the right results for me? This seems totally unwarranted." I said to the clerk who handed me my sentence papers.
"Sir, there are no mistakes here. Try this, it usually clears things up." he replied.
He handed me a blue flyer, like the kind they give you at a hospital, which answers the usual questions that they don’t have time to go over with every person who asks.
It read:
“Feeling cheated by your sentence?”
“Wondering how you could have possibly racked up that many sins in one lifetime?”
“Feeling like your perfectly average life couldn’t have possibly led to this?”
If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, this is for you. We often have newcomers ask similar questions and have found that the following self test can clear things up. If you still have questions after reading this, you can talk to one of our support staff.
Check all that apply:
1. I felt underappreciated during my lifetime
2. I often had to remind people why I deserved what I was clearly entitled to
3. People had a hard time recognizing my achievements
4. I rarely felt like I was among equals, often feeling like the smartest person in the room
5. Often felt like people were envious of me
6. I was almost always able to convince people to let me have my way
7. I found that I had to constantly make people understand that they were wrong
8. People often refused to see what I knew to be true
9. I sometimes had to use force to make people understand things that were for their own good
10. I often needed to remind people that I don’t settle or compromise
If you checked off five or more of the above, it is likely that you lived your life as a narcissist. You were unable to see the sins you were accumulating because you believed that you were not committing them at all.
Still confused? One of our support staff can help you by recounting your memories from the perspective of your friends or family. You can make an appointment at the front desk.” | I racked my brains, I was by no means a saint, but then, who is? I thought back to all the times I didn't intervene in other people's drama, because it was none of my business. Maybe I should have tried harder to help people in those situations? I couldn't help it that I didn't care that the husband of Rachel in accounts was also banging Claire in sales. Sure, I listened to the bitching, but I didn't care. I thought of all the times I sat at my desk aimlessly browsing the internet because I just didn't give a damn about my job. I began to wonder, is apathy a crime punishable by nearly 200,000 years in hell?The more I thought about it the more I realised every negative interaction in my life came from being apathetic. The arguments with my husband because I didn't care what we had for dinner, or what we watched on TV. The daily grind because of my aforementioned job. The lost friendships because I just did not give a shit about their mundane dramas.I should have cared more. I tried, I really tried. Caring is hard. I should have told Claire in sales she was a whore and Rachel in accounts she deserved better. I should have tried harder at work. I should have put more effort into deciding what to have for dinner. 200,000 years is a long time to live with that regret. Day 1 is not the time to start caring.
​ | 2018-09-26T08:05:05 | 2018-09-26T06:12:40 | 488 | 153 |
[WP] We called them "nons" because we believed that they had no souls. They believed in a pagan god. None of them converted, so the crusaders were called to drive them from fertile lands. As we charged they raised no weapons. What we did not expect, was their god to descend and defend them. | Surveying the field from atop my war steed, I saw victory within my grasp. My army stood on high ground, out of arrow's reach, assuming their formations for the charge. Below us the fertile farmlands of Non spread in an emerald slope down to the wide, slow river.
The nons were milling about in a sort of phalanx between my army and their simple village. Behind them, their buildings were of wood, or of wattle-and-daub. Beyond the village were nothing but green fields and then water. There was nowhere they could go for protection. I had them in my fist.
The messenger I had sent down to them plodded back to me on his lathered horse. Both of them were panting.
"What say the nons?" I asked him. "Will they convert to the One True Way and join the ranks of the anointed, or will they be killed?"
The messenger seemed perplexed as well as out of breath. "Sir, they say that WE must leave this place, on pain of eternal torment."
I guffawed and cast another scathing glance down onto the nons. Their wooden spears were like toothpicks compared to the mighty iron weapons of my men. "They say that, do they?"
"They do," affirmed the perplexed messenger.
"You spoke with their leader, I assume?"
"They have no leader," the messenger said. "A voice was raised above the crowd, but I could not tell who spoke."
"Someone very foolhardy," I told him. "Make ready. We charge at eventide."
The sun drew slowly across the sky. I was waiting for it to pass its meridian. With the momentum of our charge downhill, the sun behind us in our foes' eyes, and our superior weaponry, it would be a slaughter. Not that it mattered. They had no proper souls; they worshipped mud and dirt; they were barely human. I was almost bored.
The time finally came. The ranks were assembled, cavalry first and behind them the brawny foot soldiers with their halberds and swords. The trumpeters sounded the charge.
The nons, surprisingly, held their ground. My army swept down from the hills like a wave, the thunder of the cavalry and the yells of the men musical in my ears. As I led the charge, I felt the exhilaration of battle. The calm ranks of the nons grew closer.
No arrows flew. No spears were raised. All the nons simply faced us, waiting. It was eerie, the way they did not move.
The first wave of the charge broke into the first rank of the nons and suddenly there was chaos.
A mighty growl began somewhere down beneath the very earth. As the first knight leveled his spear at a motionless non, *the earth moved.* A small hillock made a motion like the gulp of a throat and the charging knight was gone, swallowed into the very dirt.
Before I could comprehend what I had seen a wall of earth roared upward into existence, cutting off my suddenly retreating troops. The wall moved like a live thing, surrounding us. The very pebbles ground together menacingly as the earth wall closed in. The screams of buried men and horses were stifled suddenly. My mouth filled with earth as I cried out in fear, and then all was silent.
As the fist of the Mighty One closed upon the enemies, the nons watched without regret. This had happened before and would happen again. The killing folk came often to this peaceful land, and every time the Mighty One of the earth came to their defense.
The Mighty One was merciless, but such was life. After all, it wasn't as though the killing folk had souls. | Boulder sat on the edge of the creek, feet dangling lightly in the water as he stretched his toes, feeling the weight of the cool current in the afternoon sun. Behind him, taking the last of his armour off his legs, bridge moved to join the man on the creek bed. Sitting himself down, he continued the conversation that had taken up the most of their afternoons ride through the rocky pass and into the valley below.
"i am still a little unsure as to the actual occurrence of the day. This god. Was it literal or figurative? Did this god come down as lighting from the sky, walk across the grass, a hag cloaked in rock or ride a chariot?" There are so many stories of pagans we grew up on. Hammers and candles and blood for the blood god. What happened boulder. Why do we flee and who remains".
"That is the question. I know we keep coming around but i cannot tell you any more clearly. I cannot speak of fallacy. I cannot explain the nothingness of it. The undue pressure or the overall stupidity of a situation. We have been round and round and over and over what it means. They would not convert. Yield. Shit, i think they made some of us dumber for trying. They died and we survived but in its own way, it feels that to be left behind was to lose. At least, that is what they thought."
"So the nons. Wait, is it A non or just non?"
"A non can be both singular and collective"
"So they drank the pepper frog tea?"
"Yes, pepper the frog" "they drank it for chan?"
"yes, 4 chan"
"From the secret recipe handed down from the padlet"
​
"Yes. The tea was their saviour. A secret recipe presented as their salvation. They drink the tea they meet their day et e"
Boulder cracked his neck and let out a sigh as he shuffled into the creek. Staring across the opposite bank, he dunked his head and held himself under the water for a moment. He came to the surface, breaking its tension and cackling into the sky. He turned around, looking at bridge, bringing his hands over his face and messing his hair.
"We speak of old gods now. Of tales found only in the deepest reaches of the drive-verse. The olds, they speak of Q and B. Of tards. Of Manson and Jones. They do not worship the common jobs and gates. They worship only trolls and the group. The olds despise each other and they trick together and they finally found a way to trick everyone. The news did not fight they just drank their green pepper frog drink and died screaming lol. But they did not understand"
"Wait so is the god the frog? The pepper frog god?"
"yes"
"and they drank the tea to meet their day et e?"
"yes"
"wait, how do you know all of this"
"Lol wut?" | 2021-02-10T03:04:09 | 2021-02-10T02:13:46 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Andrew nearly snarled as his phone chimed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. His shift at the warehouse ended only a few hours ago and it like chickens running around with their heads chopped off whenever he left. It was rare delight to encounter the nights that he was actually permitted to sleep through the night.
On top of the texts that were just brimming with simple incompetency, the morons that lit up his phone in the middle of the night always seemed to wake up his wife, Isabel, who suffered from insomnia to begin with. The raise Andrew agreed to that stated he kept his ringer on for these occasions never seemed worth it when he saw Isabel the next day, curled up in the guest room with dark circles under her eyes from her attempts to get away from the constant chiming.
Andrew rubbed a hand over eyes to clear them, trying to understand the ridiculous amount of messages but he must have been more tired than he thought since they didn’t make sense.
He quickly scrolled through the message previews, finding they all seemed to follow the same pattern: to look at the moon. The moon? What the -? Why?
It was like a shot to his adrenaline when he saw that some of the messages were coming from Isabel’s phone. He shot up from bed, seeing the other side empty, and jumped to his feet.
“Hun, what’s going on,” Andrew questioned, still scrolling through his phone while walking towards the guest room. The room was at the end of the hallway and the door was wide open. He could see Isabel standing in the middle of the room, arms down by her side and phone clutched in her hand as she gazed out the window.
As he grew closer, he could see that she was shaking, “Bel? Honey? What’s wrong, why-”
Isabel’s body whipped toward him and Andrew couldn’t help himself, he froze in place. She ran and shoved her body into the door, slamming it shut and locking it in place.
The speed was all wrong though, Andrew had never seen her move that fast. It was insane, it was...inhuman….
His own body started to tremble when he remembered her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and not a single bit of the green irises he loved so much were left.
He was just about to ram his own body into the door, to beg her to let him in and make her explain what is happening, but then she started sobbing.
“Andrew! You need to run, you need to hide! I’m so sorry, god I am so sorry. Run, Andrew, and whatever you do, don’t look at the moon!”
Andrew started pounding his fists on the door and trying to shove his weight against it, but she must have blocked it with something.
Despite his shouting and his pleading to be let in, his forgotten phone on the hallway floor seemed to crack through the commotion as the alarms of the emergency alert system distracted him for just a moment. The robotic voice started to play from his phone automatically, “WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TES-”
Andrew thought his distress was at its peak, nothing was making sense and he just needed to get Isabel so they could deal with this together. He just needed to-
Her screams started and it struck him cold to the very center of his being. He began pounding and kicking at the door until it gave way under his body. Isabel was on the floor, writhing in the moonlight. Andrew couldn’t help it, his knees buckled and he emptied the contents of his stomach right where he stood.
Isabel's body was bent at every wrong angle possible but she wasn’t screaming anymore. Her head snapped in his direction with that ungodly speed again. Bathed in the moon’s light and pupils still completely dilated, she smiled up at him as if every bone in her body wasn’t broken.
In the same voice she used to tell soothe him time after time, she whispered, “Look at the moon, Andrew.”
| That alarm. That damn alarm that everyone hates. So loud, blaring with such urgency that rouses anyone from their sleep. "God what, what is it now?" Isaiah questioned. The amber alert sound was still unending, and as he turned to unlock the phone and silence it, he was met with the brightness of the sun in the palm of his hand. "Augh dammit! Why are phones always so bright!?" He shouted with frustration. After a minute of struggling, he managed to turn off the text alarm. "Amber alerts, hmph. Like anyone is going to be a hero and run after little sally or something...hm what's... Do not look at the moon?" He talked to himself, like he always did at home. A simple quirk that helped him think. His alertness rose however, when he started scrolling through the hundreds of random numbers that texted him. It was 11:30.
Now he was fully awake. A couple lights turned on in his home revealed the pigsty that he lived in. With forward thinking, he turned off the living room light. As if on cue, there was a knock at his front door. Thoughts raced through Isaiah's head, some were pure panic, some were decisions on fight or flight. He lived alone, miles away from civilization. "It's a beautiful night tonight." The mysterious voice said. "You should come out and look, friend." Isaiah was a paranoid individual, and the panic button on his phone helped turn off all the lights in his house and double check that all doors and windows were locked. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to keep his hands and his nerves steady. In one hand was his phone, scouring the internet for any source of info as to what was happening. In his other hand, his pistol that he always kept close by. It was now 11:50.
"It's a beautiful night tonight." A now different voice said, in conjunction with the first. In stride, seventeen other voices said at the same time "You should come out and look, friend." It sounded like they were circling the house, chanting the same phrase and shuffling their feet. Isaiah retreated to his panic room. The cacophony of varying voices outside hadn't entered his house, but he wasn't about to give them the chance. The metal safety door slammed behind him, locking in place. The panic room immediately illuminated, various screens springing to life and giving him a view of the outside. Every single person outside stared at the cameras, knowing he was also looking at them. "What the hell is going on." He stated, almost insinuating that he wanted an answer from the mob outside. The soundproof room sheltered him from the horrifying phrase that followed his statement, but the movement of lips on screen already gave him his answer. He turned off the screens with haste, the clock on the wall reading 11:59.
The motion sensors on the wall were no longer activated. Isaiah breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the dark camera screens and pushing buttons. "C'mon man, this has to be either a really cruel prank, or another one of my bad hallucin-" His sentence was cut short. Mouth agape, his pistol made a loud clanging sound against the metal ground as he walked backwards and trying to brace himself against anything. The camera monitors showed the grass around his home trampled on, but no mass of people. It was midnight, but outside was a brightly lit hue of colours. | 2022-10-06T10:06:56 | 2022-09-11T16:03:17 | 483 | 15 |
[WP] You died. Then you woke up in The Station and Death told you to board The Train that will take you onwards. Then you got ran over by The Train. You’re now in a diner sitting across from a pale woman, who asks you “How in the fuck did you get in here?”
Have at it. | I've always been what some would call a klutz. It seems like any time I try to do anything, I trip, slip, fall, drop or break something, or, best of all, injure myself. My klutzy habits ended up being the death of me: I tripped and fell down my stairs and whacked my head on the stone floor of my foyer. It seemed like a good idea when I got it, okay!? When I finally woke up, I was in an immaculate, all white train station. A tall man in a black cloak with a scythe in his hand stood across from me.
"Who are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I am Death. You have perished and must go onwards," he answered in a deep, echoing voice.
"Onwards...?" I asked. Death pointed a skeletal finger. As if on cue, an old-fashioned steam train emerged from the light. Not gonna lie, it was a really cool looking train. I'd only ever seen ones like that in black-and-white photos or movies. I had to get a closer look. Of course, when I stepped forward, I tripped onto the track. I barely had time to process what was happening before the train slammed into me.
\*\*\*
I blinked and jolted. What happened? I looked around at my surroundings. I appeared to be in one of those retro diners, although it was empty. Was that possible? Hadn't I just died? And then gotten run over by a train?
"How in the fuck did you get here?" someone asked. I jumped and looked across from me. Sitting on the other side of the booth table was a pale, thin woman about my age in a sleeveless black turtleneck. Her light blue eyes examined me skeptically. She didn’t look especially threatening, but there was something unsettling about her.
“Um...I’m not exactly sure,” I admitted. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Well, what happened to you before you got here?”
“I died. And then got hit by a train,” I explained. She cocked her head.
“So you don’t know about us?” she asked.
“About...who?”
“The people here. We all did what it took to avoid going to the afterlife. I died with my switchblade, so I slit my wrists,” she said rather proudly.
“Um...what other people?” I asked, looking around. The diner was still empty. She waved a hand dismissively.
“The others aren’t here right now. We tend to wander. Today, I happened to get the pleasure of waiting around for newbies,” she said. She half-smiled. “Anyway, congratulations. You’ve officially cheated death.”
“Oh. What now?”
“The others will get here soon enough. We’ll decide that then.”
**If you liked this, there's more on** r/JustRandomness**!** | It looked like an American diner from the sixties, the kind where the waitresses were size zeroes in miniskirts and rolling around on skates. All red-and-white chequered floors, plastic tables and firm leather booths, lit up with actual lights and not the neon signs in the windows, flashing into a never-ending blackness.
The entire place was empty, save for myself, and a pale woman who looked at me as if I just crashed a car into someone's roof.
"How in the *fuck* did you get in here?"
It was rude, I supposed, but it was warranted given one small problem.
"I, uh... don't know?"
I thought I saw her eye twitch. Taking another look around the place, I asked where I was.
"How the hell do you not know?" She snapped.
I shrugged. "First that doesn't answer my question, and second, I literally have no idea how I got here."
"What happened before you got here then?"
Straight to the point. As much as I found it admirable, I was finding her to be a little too abrasive for my liking. Still, I answered honestly: "I died."
She looked at me like like I was five. "*Obviously* you're dead. I can smell it from here."
"Right. I died, then I saw, I assume, Death. And he told me to get on a train."
"Right?"
"And I... died again?"
The pale woman blinked. "Did you fall in front of The Train?"
"I fell in front of The Train."
The only noise for that brief moment was the buzz of neon sign.
"Well." She muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. "*That* isn't what I expected." Then, directly to me, "Aight. I suppose you have one of two choices. Either you can stay here, or go through that door." She pointed at the entrance of the diner.
"What's through there?"
She shrugged. "If I knew that, then I wouldn't be here, would I?"
"Fair point." I concluded. I looked out of the window, pondering on what to do. Stay, where I knew there was company? Or go forth into the unknown?
​
I weighed up my options, then made my choice. | 2021-03-26T07:28:09 | 2021-03-26T07:11:49 | 207 | 152 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | I got to my room, lungs burning as I ran the first floor. "It's all right Jack, you don't have to be afraid, you have done nothing wrong, everything will be all right." Said the calm voice of Professor X. Part of me immediately started to relax, but I could not slow down the heavy rapid breathing. I messed up, and people are hurt, dying, or dead. What is going to happen to me? Will they sedate me for the rest of my life or will they just get rid of me to stop others from getting hurt. Nothing can be done now, I need to get out.
I cannot safely chronolock the entire building. I might miss some parts, and get myself into further problems. No, only the professor knows, I will take him out of the time, escape and resume his time once I am safely away. I expand my mind and find his timeline and the tethers that bind him to it, I need to focus, to grab them all.
"Jack you need to stop right now, I want to help you." I hear again almost a pleading voice. "You are not a..." I will never find out, what I am not, at that point, I separated all of his tethers from his timeline. In the back of my mind, I can feel lit like a pull at one of my hairs. Good, now I just need to... A terrible scream cut through the house. I need to move NOW. I run out of my room into the hallways of the mansion, damn, DAMN, they were all so nice to me and I am hurting them. Tears are running down my face, I can barely see. All the other kids are leaving their rooms to see what is happening. I race down the stairs and see the screaming girl. Standing in front of the frozen professor and two halves of a body. One half, a midstep into the room I chronolocked. The other half cleanly separated, frozen mid-fall, where I locked it once I realized what I have done, the blood and organs already in a position that does not seem quite right. I feel nausea overwhelming me. I quickly consider locking the girl in time, but quickly reject it, rushing like this, I might hurt her, and the alarm has been raised anyway.
"You, stop right there!" I hear the rough voice aimed at me, Logan. "I am sorry" I cry as I keep running. I hear the heavy footsteps right behind me. Oh god, I need to stop him. I look around and focus on his tethers, as I do, I collide with someone in front of me, I panic and lock the tethers I got. "Fucking hell, what did you do." I fall to the ground and look in horror at Wolverine, claws extended as he tumbles around into the furniture, leaving his two legs locked in time behind him. He is bleeding and swearing. I concentrate again and the screaming stops. The pull at the back of my mind is becoming stronger.
I try to scramble up, but the man I collided with places a heavy furry blue hand on me. "Calm down boy, you need to calm down before you hurt yourself." Through tears and snot, I bark a laugh. People are dying he is worried about me? I need to get out NOW. I struggle to release myself off him. He holds me for a second but then let's go, perhaps a little worried as well.
I get to my feet and start running again. But halls are already full of people trying to see what is happening. I am pushing through, but feel hands trying to stop me. I concentrate, "no mistakes this time", I repeat like a mantra, and just keep locking people in around me. The pressure in my mind is becoming unbearable, I feel blood running out of my nose and ears. But I finally see the light of outside.
I exit the mansion. I am dizzy. I fall to my knees. I feel every single timelock as a nail being hammered into my brain. A gentle voice speaks behind me, it sounds sad "Jack please stop". I concentrate one last time. I know what I must do. I focus on one last timeline and with a jank snap it in half.
/\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*/
"Jean I am worried that this young man, might hurt himself if not handled carefully. He is so full of fear. Fear of rejection of himself and at this time of me as well. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps he will respond better to you."
"Of course professor. But perhaps it is not going to be such a problem, he went to class today, and Kurt will certainly make him feel at home."
Having said this, Jean opened the doors. Professor saw the young troubled student standing in the middle of the room. The student looked at him, smiled for a moment and disappeared just as Jean crossed the threshold. And while the class applauded the newest student his successful teleportation. Professor's heart broke. | "What's up, Diego"
"Nothing, Mr Summers" he said rolling his eyes. If he was any other mutant Scott would've ignored him, but Diego, or as his classmates called him, Dio, was special. He had the special ability of teleportation, which in itself is extremely rare, but unlike his friend Kurt, Diego could do it effortlessly. He could even go to places he hadn't been before, even different countries! But what was more perplexing about the young Mr Brando, was his abnormal levitation ability. Of course, this was kept secret. If Magneto found out, Diego would be in great danger. Scott had seen Diego's secret ability. He could lift anything, from road rollers to cranes. Given a couple years, Diego could become the greatest mutant in history.
"Cool, cool" It was always awkward to talk to the kid "Anyway, the Professor wants to talk"
"Ok, sir. I'll go there now" And suddenly Diego disappeared. No smoke or a trace he had ever been there. It was disorientating, to say the least.
"I guess I'll go to Jean. See what she's doing" Scott said before walking away.
\----------------------------------------------------------------\*\*\*-------------------------------------------------------------------
"You wished to see me sir?" Diego asked curtly.
"Oh Dio! Don't scare me like that!" Xavier chuckled "Yes, well I called you here today, to discuss your powers." They were the most mystifying aspect of the boy. No one could really decipher how his mutation worked. Not even Beast. Well, until now that is.
"Diego" Said a gruff voice, coming from behind Diego. There appeared the bluest and greatest scientist on the planet. Beast."After almost 5 years since you arrived in front of the academy, we've finally deciphered your DNA and mutation" He said excitedly.
"And it appears that you've been lying to us" Xavier continued "You don't have a trace of mutant DNA which is even close to Kurt's. In fact, your DNA, is closest to Shadowcat's. A time skimmer" He said almost angrily "You can control time can't you? Although that doesn't explain the telekinesis."
"How about I show you two" Diego said, nonchalantly "Come closer to me" And they did. Both men with their hands on Diego's shoulder.
# "THE WORLD!"
Suddenly the entire room turned black and white. "What happened?" Xavier said. He looked down to his watch "By god..." Time had stopped.
Beast turned to Diego "Dio! This is amazing! We could defeat Magneto with thi-" Suddenly Beast was cut off. Xavier turned to blue man quickly and was shocked at what he saw. A giant, gaping wound through his chest and a giant, fist which could only be seen thanks to the blood.
"DIO! WHAT HAPPENED!" Xavier shouted, looking distraught and terrified for the first time in his life. He stared at Dio but was met with a cruel, sadistic smile.
"I'm sorry Professor, I can't have you knowing I'm an Omega level. Not with my plans!" He laughed, almost manicly.
"Damn you boy!" Xavier said before using his power. If he could just break the Dio's mind, he could possibly save himself. Alas, instead of victory, he too was met with hole through the chest. "H-howww..." He said, his final word drifting.
"Did you truly think that you could be me! I, Dio Brando! I have been training forever for this moment! Of course I wanted to do it from the beginning, but I wasn't strong enough. I really must thank for the training! Instead of 10 seconds, I can do 10 years! It truly is marvellous!" Dio shouted "Now, I really must leave." And with that, he left the bloodied room.
# "THE WORLD!"
*Tick Tock.* Time started again.
Dio opened the door and let the most loudest scream he could. Suddenly, almost all the mutants in the manor arrived. "What's the matter Diego?" Asked Storm.
All Dio did was point to the room. "Oh my god" screamed Jean, staring in shock as the two lifeless corpses laid on the ground.
Suddenly, everyone pushed forward, attempting to save the mutants. Dio snuck behind them all. And as they all started letting tears out, Dio smiled. He smiled as he was one step closer to his dream. **APOCALYPSE.** | 2020-07-15T05:54:34 | 2020-07-15T05:19:54 | 137 | 72 |
[WP] just an hour into an international flight the pilot announces there's a sick woman on the plane and that there will be an emergency landing at the closest airport. The plane lands and connects to the jetway, but rather than a few paramedics, an entirely different kind of squad enters the plane. | She was sick, running a fever, her eyes blood shot. Everyone was comforting her, old woman maybe 75, coughing, pale as a ghost, looking as she was on her last legs. The pilot had called over the intercom
"Do to an unforeseen complication we will land shortly at a nearby airstrip, from there the paramedics will transport the sick passenger to the hospital"
The call end and static ceased his sentence.
"Don't worry ma'am you're going to be okay." Said a passenger, holding her hand, comforting her.
I overheard the words two rows in front of them, they were empty words only giving her peace and hope.
"Alright passengers get to your seats and buckle in we will be landing" the pilot had again called.
I put my earphones, put up my trays, and put my seat in an upright position and began the rollercoaster of the landing.
I turned around to see the sick 75 year old. I saw that some of the passengers who comforted her had sat next to her and held her hand. The woman was in the middle of the 5 seat section in the middle of the two aisle. The passengers appeared to be gloomy, with despondent looks on the faces. In the middle the elder appeared to be lifeless, unmoving. I just turned my head and looked ahead, listening to my music.
The intercom began again, the pilot giving the usual end of the flight speech. And heard the tunnel connect to our plane. People got up from their seats with another story to tell to their friends and families. Going for their luggage when the door to the plan opened. Men in clad in camo print armed with standard issue military rifles equipped with military gear burst in, guns pointing at every passenger. More came in secure each row, fingers on the trigger. I had raised my hands up wondering if they were hunting a terrorist.
Each called to each asking if they saw "it"
Along with some yelling to sit down and sit still to passengers.
"Ma'am get down! Get down!" I heard a soldier shout.
I turned to see the elder alive, standing up. Just then the man, who held her hand comforting her till her dying breath, was attacked by her. Blood had squirted on the seat. I was terrified, a man had been brutally killed.
My ears were ringing and the grandma fell.
The soldier went up the aisle and up to the row unloaded another bullet from the gun.
"She's down. We found it. We request immediate medical attention." He spoken to himself.
He turned his head and yelled "Bring them in!"
I turned to the door and saw men in hazmat suits walk up the aisle and pick up the man who was bleeding from his neck. They carried him out. The other men also picked up the bloodied elder and carried her out.
"We're going to announce one row at a time, please leave in a timely manner any person exhibiting abnormal behavior will be shot." The soldier at the door announced. "We will have doctors at the the end of the tunnel. Please give them your full cooperation, they will inspect you for anything abnormal"
I was scared and confused. I had no grasp over what happened, but I was scared of the conclusion I thought.
| The plane landed. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but this really is a tremendous sickness." The passengers murmured to each other, wondering what kind of rare disease it may be. Then the captain continued speaking. "Now, this is a kind of disease that is very rare, and has never been seen before; one that someone would very much like a sample of. So, if you all could just put your heads down and make no sudden movements, thank you."
All of a sudden screams rang out. Three masked men with assault rifles boarded the plane, all yelling at people to get down. When the men had advanced to the sick woman, everyone on board was whimpering in fear, their hands behind their heads.
When they got to the woman, the group worked quickly. One in a blue mask pulled out tubing and several vials, and they prepared to take blood from the passenger. Halfway through filling the vials, a voice yelled outside the plane. "This is the police! We have you surrounded, come out with your hands up!" One man, wearing a white mask, motioned what seemed to be the youngest to stand up. "Alright," he yelled, "Who called the cops?!" He looked through compartments, finally centering on a passenger with a phone. The man's voice dropped as he said a quiet insult and shot the passenger's hand. "Alright," the criminal said into an earpiece, "captain, you have these coppers under control?"
The criminal nodded, hearing something through the earpiece. As he looked around at the other people, making various threats, the other two came through. "We got what we came for," the leader said, "let's get outta here." The blue-masked one placed a canister in the plane, spraying gas that knocked out everyone in the plane. The three then took off their masks, opened an emergency exit, placed their case of vials in a specific compartment marked with a small bit of dirt, then sat down and succumbed to the gas.
One minute later, a team came through to dispose of the gas, and officers and medics revived the passengers. They found the pilot huddled in the cockpit, the copilot's head bashed into the console. The pilot explained that the gas made everyone delirious, that they thought he was one of the criminals. He had to fight the copilot to save his own life. The police bought the story, and as the passengers were loaded off for questioning, three people, the pilot, a bit of luggage, and one passenger with a strange disease mysteriously failed to show. | 2017-01-08T11:12:04 | 2017-01-08T08:37:14 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic. | Bailan Bol, High Speaker of the Unified Assembly of Mages, sat primly behind his gilded desk. He was lost in thought, stroking his long beard compulsively.
A nervous knock came pattering from the marble door of his study.
“Enter,” Bol said.
Brother Junior Guide Namitor, a skinny wisp of a man, approached with hunched shoulders. “The ...uh, applicant... stands before the Council of the Crescent Moons. We await your arrival before beginning the judgement.”
Bol squinted at Namitor. He couldn’t hide his contempt of the fear that the man displayed. “What are you afraid of, Brother? These *humans*, they are functionally sterile as a race, magically speaking. They have no right to the title of Wizard, nor even the right to stand before the Council. They are little more than upstarts and children.”
Namitor shifted his feet anxiously. “Yes sir, of course.”
Bol followed the Junior Guide into the Grand Hall. All rose when he entered, and Bol stiffened his back. Ceremony was of vital importance. Ritual and tradition were what held the loose web of the Assembly together. All, Bol noticed, but the curly haired human Gilbert Godfrey. The human remained in his seat, and he actually had the *gall* to smile.
“Be seated,” Bailan Bol said.
He paused for the Assembly to take their seats. The High Councillors were positioned along the crescent podium, which shone with the moonlight of all planets represented in the Assembly. The Councilors expressions ranged from curiosity, to fear, and finally outrage. There was a large crowd as well, which was to be expected.
“Gilbert Godfrey,” he continued, “Be forewarned. You sit before the gathered might of the universe’s most powerful magi. What have you to say?”
The human craned his neck and tapped his foot distractedly. “*Magic*, rubbish word really. I very much prefer the term ‘unexplained natural phenomena’. Did you louts drag me here to try to intimidate me into joining your cult? Be forewarned, it won’t work,” Gilbert said.
The room went cold. Bailan Bol, High Speaker of the Crescent Moons, found himself rendered speechless.
Councilwoman Petunya, a newly anointed representative from the powerful Ray’Un Kur, broke the silence. “Are you saying you doubt the magic of the Crescent Moons,” she asked.
“I’m saying I doubt it is what you think it is,” Godfrey answered.
“Y-you dog! You mindless, ignorant, dog,” Petunya snapped. The Ray’Un Kur were famous for their courage and short tempered disposition.
“Hold your tongue, Sister,” Bol said.
The councilwoman sat back, collecting herself. “My apologies, Speaker.”
“But Earth’s histories are filled with references to famous magic men. There was Thomas Edison, called The Wizard of Menlo Park. And Rasputin, called Scourge of the Frozen North. I could go on,” Councilman Tet of Yuror said in a slow and thoughtful tone.
“Edison was a scientist. Rasputin, a mad man,” Godfrey said with a smile, “I am both. But none of us are *magic men*, however much those two might have liked to be called it.”
Bol cleared his throat to end the man’s drivel. “Now, Gilbert Godfrey of Earth, in this very room you see proof of magic, even if your own teleportation capability did not convince you. Consider this, none of us hail from the same planet. We all must have out own language, our own culture. Now take a look above you,” Bol said, nodding toward the high ceiling.
Godfrey said nothing, but conceded to look up. A purple flame burned slowly at the ceiling, appearing at first like a chandelier.
Bol smiled, convinced of the soundness of his rhetoric. “Without the Spell of Many Tongues cast and maintained by the Senior and Junior Guides, none of us could understand eachother.”
Thin Namitor puffed up in his seat. He was proud to be mentioned, if not in name.
Bol continued, “Do you see the irony? You betray your own foolish ideas about magic the instant words leave your mouth.”
Godfrey laughed. “I don’t doubt your magic, I said it was misunderstood. Take teleportation, as that is at the core of why you brought me here..”
“Yes, I suppose an explanation *is* in order. Go on, human,” Petunya said.
Godfrey nodded his head to her. He had to admit she was attractive, even if there was something distinctly *non human* about her features. “The central principle of one of Earth’s greatest minds, Albert Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity,” he said, “It states that mass, the quantity of matter present in a subject, warps spacetime around it. The more massive the object, the greater the spacetime curvature. Logically, if an object has enough mass, and a projectile has the proper escape velocity to ignore the overwhelming gravitational pull, the projectile could exploit the spacetime curvature of the massive object to travel straight through lightyears of scrunched up distance in an efficient path. All that I had to do to achieve teleportation was create a machine which could artificially simulate mass in-front of itself and simultaneously produce a titanic amount of thrust behind it.”
Gilbert studied the faces of the Council members. Seeing basic understanding in their expressions, he continued “I suspect your *magic* works in a similar fashion, but was attained by way of natural selection and evolution. Perhaps the result of the erratic gravitational pull of a collapsing star, your ancestors had need of an organ which would allow them to increase or decrease their internal mass accordingly. Thus, I theorize, your magic is nothing but biology. Same here, as *my* magic is my intellect, which allowed me to invent a vehicle which bends space and skips over it.”
“So you condemn yourself,” Councilman Eloh Immoran said, “Your kind has no magic, just cheap tricks. Why should we consider accepting your world into the Grand Assembly?”
“Let me answer your question with a question. Why should I care if you dusty fools accept us,” Gilbert asked.
Bol scoffed. “Any world we cannot accept that has attained the ability to find us, we *erase*,” he said, glad to finally wipe that insolent grin off Godfrey’s face.
The young scientist stared up at the Council. In the time it took Bailan Bol to stroke his beard once more, Godfrey had already conjured a plan... | INTERCEPT OF QUANTUM FLUCTUATION COMMUNICATION PATTERNS
TRANSLATION SERVICES PROVIDED BY UNITED EARTH SIGINT SERVICES
​
TRANSLATOR NOTES:
USG refers the Universal Substrate Gaia.
Disconnects is their slang term for non-magic users.
Czyraks are a type of pet on most planets.
Soltrap is some sort of magical Dyson Sphere they use for sanctions.
​
— BEGIN TRANSLATION —
​
TRANSCRIPT OF VOTE DISCUSSION 2435.B-4
AT THE 32ND SESSION OF THE GALACTIC GENERAL ASSEMBLY
​
<AMBASSADOR GHYZX> Representatives of the assembly, I come before you a humble servant of the USG. We have lived in harmony for eons, but now that harmony is threatened. Threatened by a race of lowers. A vulgar people who refuse to become in-tune with the universe, and instead use machines to warp it, bend it, hurt it, and make a mockery of all we hold dear. This vote is a vote to preserve the very peace that binds us all together. When their ships approached, we all felt the universal fabric.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: anger from multiple sources>
&#x200B;
<UNKNOWN> They’re forrest animals that don’t know their place!
<AMBASSADOR TYRQ> That’s enough of that! We will have order in these proceedings!
<GHYZX> Thank you prime overseer, but the sentiment is correct. There is a natural order to the universe. A hierarchy of beings based on their ability. If disconnects were allowed to change things to their will, chaos would ensue. Our entire civilization would crumble. Voting yes is the only moral and just option.
<TYRQ> Ambassador Comstak asked to speak and so will be allowed.
<COMSTAK> Should we not allow the humans to participate in these proceedings?
<TYRQ> Comstak, you are on a very short leash. I will not have disconnects participate in official meetings. We wouldn’t teach a Czyrak to communicate and ask it to defend messing on the floor.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: laughter>
&#x200B;
<COMSTAK> We do not know what they are capable of. If they have mastered FTL without magic, who knows what weapons they have. Would it be not best to speak with them and avoid conflict?
<TYRQ> Their spirt cleaves as easy as any other. They should have stayed in that pit they call a solar system. I will not debate with servants who do not serve. And I do not debate with servants, so they have NO STANDING HERE!
<COMTAK> I have sources that say they are developing machines that can communicate via the substrate and that means…
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: shock and horror.>
&#x200B;
… listening to this very gathering. This proposal is blasphemous. Who knows what effects it will have with our connection to the USG! Peace lead the way!
<MANY VOICES> Peace lead the way.
<GHYZX> Peace will always lead the way, but they do not lead with peace. They lead with machines. Machines! A toilet has a deeper connection to the universe.
<COMTAK> Would not a Soltrap be a better solution? Allow them the time to grow and learn.
<GHYZX> You do not quarantine a virus. You eradicate it.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: general agreement>
<COMTAK> My system will not be party to war!
<GHYZX> War assumes that one side can fight! We act quickly! We act now! Then we can be assured of the outcome!
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 50% agree / 50% dissent>
&#x200B;
<TYRQ> We’ll take an official vote and see where we stand. All in favor mass cleave of the human race, say YEAH.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 55% YEAH>
&#x200B;
<TYRQ> Let the record show the majority of the assembly…
&#x200B;
***<SUBSTRATE SQUELCH>***
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: confusion>
<GHYZX> By the universe! Was that them?
<TYRQ> Is that what a disconnect feels?
<COMTAK> It was only the gathering communications, but yes…
&#x200B;
***<SUBSTRATE SQUELCH>***
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: fear>
<EARTH REPRESENTATIVE SINGH> Dear members of the galactic assembly. We have been able to review some of your history. When it comes to war, you seem to be out of practice. We have developed the ability to inhibit all communications. Earth would like to offer negotiations to prevent further escalation of hostilities.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 100% YEAH>
&#x200B;
<SINGH> Accepted.
&#x200B;
\-- END TRANSLATION —
&#x200B; | 2019-01-18T11:16:45 | 2019-01-18T11:08:22 | 80 | 16 |
[WP] First contact involves an alien found with a note stuck to its chest saying in every language our planet has ever used "Keep it alive." | It was a test. It had to be. No other explanation made sense, to me at least. First contact in such a manner assumed that we not only possessed rudimentary biological knowledge but a profound sense of empathy as a species. Whoever had sent this creature to us wanted to see just how worthy we were. If we were of use to them. Maybe. I don't fucking know. I'm too tense to do anything but stare at it, and the fate of the world may literally be in the balance based on what I do next.
I look over at the group of men and women standing behind the five inch thick glass. All wearing expensive suits and all on their cell phones describing every detail of the creature and myself. And all staring at me, waiting for me to do something.
Yes, just a test. Or maybe it was a warning? A threat? No. Had to be a test. Why else would they write "Keep it alive" on the note for whoever might stumble across it? Then again, why would they have written that and then stuck the note to its chest with a serrated, black ooze stained blade right through the Japanese and Urdu translation?
I have to stop thinking and start doing. So much depends on me. Pass the test.
So I go to work. I ask for a scalpel, and hope to god I can keep this thing breathing. | The scientist looked upon the fragile life form before him and recited the note found on its chest to the unidentified official next to him. "Keep it alive" it said... in every known language modern and ancient. The official raised his eyebrow at this and let out a sigh. He then turned to the scientist and calmly told him the one thing he didn't want to hear "It is the policy of this country and this planet to eliminate any extraterrestrial biological entity that makes it to the surface."
The official pulled the trigger without hesitation. It was almost as if he had done this very task before, reciting the same words to another scientist somewhere else. | 2015-02-19T17:58:43 | 2015-02-19T17:16:30 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] I (23M, human) asked my Orc gf (22F) to stop deadlifting my familymembers when she comes over for the holidays because it made me look small and weak. Now she and the rest of the family keep forcing me to run laps and lift whole roasted hogs when I visit for orc holidays. AITA?
Saw this here and thought it was an awesome prompt: [https://imgur.com/gallery/GUmU4d6](https://imgur.com/gallery/GUmU4d6) | Humans... Always getting cause and effect backwards. Might wanna look into orc history and culture if you wanna join the clan. 😂
Don't feel bad though, my elvish in-law was just as caught off guard. Once you realize what's going on, you'll probably cherish this time with your orc side of the family.
You see, you're being prepared for fatherhood...
If one of your in-laws is having a child soon, the patriarch or matriarch has chosen you to be the godfather. This is lucky for you, because the majority of the attention will be on your brother in-law.
If your in-laws already have kids, it could be that something is happening that is being kept quiet. Cancer for example, and you are being chosen to be the godfather in lieu of whoever was chosen at the child's birth. Essentially, you're thought of as a better choice. Your wife's parents must absolutely adore you if that's the case.
There's also the possibility that... They just want grandchildren 🤣. Preparing you for fatherhood before anything is essentially the orc version of your parents asking "when are you gonna have me some grandchildren!?" Which is beyond acceptance, they want halflings to spoil.
It's important to remember, in the distant past only the patriarch would be allowed to sire children. This is because orc children are pretty strong from the getgo, and it was thought that only the strongest male could handle the task.
Thing is, we found herbs and more recently science along with the industrial food supply which makes getting enough protein easy.
At some point, your father in law may ask you to drink a concoction that contains his blood as well as many herbs. Do not turn this down! It will imbew you with orc strength and change the very biological function of your musculature. It's considered necessary to become a dad to orcs, and it's very difficult to source.
After my brother in-law took it, he got way way bigger than any elf I've ever seen!
If you're an asshole for anything, it's not talking to your wife about this. I'm sure she'll explain this to you, she probably hadn't even thought about you not understanding what's happening.
My biggest tip for you though, is to hit the gym until your dog tired every day. You're an orc in the hearts of your clan, show them you take it seriously and they will love you for it. | YTA, humans have such frivolous regard for non-human cultures. Even their *own* cultures among various ethnic groups.
Though, I understand. As a hybrid, my human (bleh) father took up to his last days to learn respect for Niodiku culture. Or “African-Elves”, or “Black Elves” as you people throw about. He barely respected the neighboring Igbo tribes. But he got there. I made the same mistake moving up north to Egypt. While the tribes and cults were easy to relate to, the city people lived in a different world. They just loved to *talk* so much. Way too much. Too familiar with people they just don’t know. And too familiar with the Anglo tourists and their blatant disrespect for the Pharaohs of old. They deserve none, but hatred takes more energy than ignorance.
Too many people fancied me, too quickly, I understand 1 partner every two hundred or so years but less then 50 years after my second husband died I had a woman try to make friends with me. Ridiculous. My mother waited 400 years before my human (bleh) father even knew what a Niodiku was.
Turns out it’s how humans cope and comfort each other, to distract from their aggressively short lifespan. Father died when I was 60, still a baby. I barely think about him anymore, but since we’re on the subject of love between clans I ought.
I’m rambling, where was I. Yeah, your pissed your orcish girl-fiend off with that suggestion. I know nothing of orcs but I guess you’re out of shape, chubby maybe. She hated you opening your mouth about strength in your state, so you might as well run it through with your trails. The fact she hasn’t twisted your spine that very instant means she’ll probably forgive you. | 2022-10-18T14:09:38 | 2022-10-18T13:49:07 | 90 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone has the date that they will die writen in their forehead, and everyone but themselves can see it. One day, you notice that people around you can’t help but gawk at your forehead. One of them points and says “Wasn’t that yesterday?” | “Wasn’t that yesterday?” called a voice from behind me. I spun around on my heels, mostly instinctively from the shock of someone so blatantly committing the social crime of speaking someone’s Day (but then again, maybe that rule ends when your Day does). I looked around at the group of people behind me, glancing around frantically to try to match a face in the crowd behind me with the voice I’d just heard.
“Who— what did you say?” I stammered to the general group behind me. A young man stepped forward, looking to be in his mid-twenties, around the same age as me. I glanced just below the fringe of his dark brown hair to see 10.02.2063 in dark black numerals. A nice long life, most aren’t so lucky.
“Your Day,” he responded, looking at me with an expression of confusion and amusement, “was yesterday. As in you’re supposed to be dead.” Another woman around our age linked her arm around his and gently began to tug him away. She was beautiful, and I could tell from the look of embarrassment on her face from his public outburst that she was probably his girlfriend. 12.05.2025, a short romance. Sometimes I wish I could warn people, but I know it would only end up hurting them more.
I turned back around and saw a police officer walking briskly towards me, alerted by the commotion caused by the man. I began to walk briskly away from him, weaving through the crowd in hopes of falling out of his sight. I could hear him behind me, shouting for me to stop. I reached a clearing in the crowd and shot a quick glance behind me, and saw he was almost through the crowd and running towards me. I sprinted away as quickly as I could, zig zagging around without paying attention to direction, desperate to throw the police officer off of my trail.
I took a quick turn into an alleyway and sprinted without looking back, only focusing on which way to turn next. I then realized that I’ve run out of places to turn. A dead end. Behind me, I heard the distinctive metallic click of a gun and I slowly brought my hands up.
A radio crackled behind me. “We have a code Past-DDE, do I have authorization to correct the system malfunction?” I heard the officer ask from behind me.
“Authorization granted,” a voice crackled back over the radio. I heard the click of a bullet being loaded into a chamber. My face felt cold and I realized I was crying.
Another crackle came from the radio. “Wait, wait— what is the subject’s Determined Date of Expiration?” asked the voice on the other end of the radio.
“Turn around,” commanded the voice from behind me. I slowly turned around to face the officer. “19.01.2024,” replied the police officer into the radio.
“Authorization revoked. Bring the subject to HQ,” the radio crackled, “Immediately.”
Edit: I’ll work on a part 2 after work today:) Also, I fixed some formatting! |
The stares I could ignore. The whispers, and the shocked expressions. It never got to me. Most things never did. Other people seemed to enjoy the time they had, and felt secure knowing those around them would have the proper time to come to terms before they died.
Not that anyone knew their own time. It was taboo at first, but quickly became the law. People changed when they knew their own expiration date, so society agreed to never tell someone what their own date was. You could tell though, as family came around a bit more. People acted a little more polite. Sometimes you saw a job posting for your own position. You could usually tell when you were close. Not me.
I knew my date, down to the second. I just didn’t know if it was right. If she had managed to change it.
We met in high school. We took to each other quickly, and I was happy to know her, even though her date meant she would be gone within the decade. We had the same fearless attitude most teenagers have, that consequences couldn’t possibly affect us. That’s why we decided to tell each other our dates. We were so in love we didn’t stop for a moment to think of the fallout. The knowing looks and early congratulations from our friends and family should have told us, but we were still taken by surprise when our dates turned out to be the same. That meant we would almost certainly die together. Usually the sign of a successful and happy relationship. But she couldn’t stand the thought of me dying. Not at 27. She railed against the world that we didn’t have more time. That the person she loved didn’t have more time.
So she traded. She gambled. She hoped that by changing things she could extend my time. It was in all the papers. Nobody could understand how it had happened, or why? How did it come to pass that her parents found their little girl, gone before her date, the pill bottle empty beside her.
As of today, I know her idea worked, after a fashion. She changed our fates, and I have now lived past my date. Not that the gray, empty gnawing has ever felt like living. I am lucky, I guess, knowing for a fact my life is missing something. Missing her. I don’t know if we would have been happy. I don’t know what our life was supposed to be.
But I do know you should never try to trade time for the moments that make it worthwhile. | 2020-01-19T14:19:53 | 2020-01-19T13:13:48 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You have the power to swap places with anyone, anywhere, at will. You've set up a business where you charge by the hour for tourists to swap places with you. Today is different, because your latest client sent an emergency request. It is a hostage. | Eric sat silently across from Mr. Yokota. The tea that rest between them was long forgotten and growing cold.
"That's a lot of money Mr. Yokota," Eric finally said trying to understand the situation.
"She is my only daughter. There is no amount I won't pay to get her back. You are the only one that can save her."
"Then why not just pay the ransom? I'm sure if you can afford to pay me ten million dollars you can afford their ransom."
"What guarantee do I have that they will release her? What will stop them from taking the money and asking for more!" Mr. Yokota slammed his fist onto the table spilling the delicate tea cups.
"I apologize for my outburst," he said quietly setting the tea cups upright.
"What would you do with the men that took your daughter if you had them?" Eric asked.
Mr. Yokota looked up and met Eric's eyes. "I would pay you double."
Eric nodded slowly and closed his eyes. He let his mind wander, searching the planet for Hana, Mr. Yokota's daughter. It didn't take long for him to hear her desperate pleas for help thundering out of her mind. He pressed his consciousness into the room she was in. She was bound to a chair by rope, four men lounged nearby. A pistol sat on a table next to a deck of cards the men were entertaining themselves with.
"This will be complicated," Eric said furrowing his brow. He had never been that good at math.
"How many men do you have here?"
"Ten. I've doubled my security."
"That should work. I need them in here, and ready."
Mr. Yokota barked a command and men in fitted black suits loosened buttons and eased clubs out of their waist bands.
"Ready." Mr. Yokota said coldly.
He would have to be quick, faster than any swap he had ever done before. Eric took a deep breath and focused on Hana. There was a small pop and Eric was sitting in a rough wooden chair, hands and ankles bound with rope. The comfortable confines of his home hundreds of miles away.
It took the men a few seconds to realize that instead of a petite Japanese girl sitting in the chair, there was a pale white man in his thirties.
A man shouted and reached out for the gun on the table. Eric focused on him first, the first person to react was usually the greatest threat. Another light pop and Eric's fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol. The other three men froze, eyes darted between Eric holding the pistol and the man now bound to the chair.
Eric chambered a round and leveled the pistol at them.
Six hands shot into the air, "Don't kill us!" One begged falling to his knees.
"Don't worry, I won't." Eric said. Rapid fire he focused on the club wielding men in his living room. He chose one and swapped. Back in his living room he gave a sharp nod to Mr. Yokota who was hugging his daughter tightly. He didn't say anything but he understood what was about to happen.
Eric swapped with the kneeling begging man, then the other two in quick succession. He left four of Mr. Yokota's men with the man tied to the chair and stood in his living room breathing heavily and sweating.
"Please don't do it inside my house."
"I am truly humbled," Mr. Yokota said with a deep bow. He snapped a finger and a men stepped forward extending a black briefcase. "Your money." With a wave of his hand his men exited Eric's house.
---
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| When Mrs Brown started crying, and the police constables by her side shot me withering looks of disdain, I had a sinking feeling I would end up agreeing to her harebrained request.
"Please, Mr Safe, only you can save my husband... please..."
Problem was, while I was as shrewd and greedy as any other successful businessman, I also had a very well-honed instinct for survival. I liked being safe, and unhurt, and alive, and the damsel's request carried a real risk that I would end up being none of those.
"... I would have paid the kidnappers, but we simply don't have that much on standby! Please, just take his place, and we'll pay you half the ransom! Then we'll get him to lead us back to you! $5 million dollars, all yours!"
Did I mention I was greedy?
"Fine," I said, opening the file she had placed on my desk. "I'll have you know, I've never Swapped without the other person's express consent before. But this is an emergency, and I guess there's no choice. Is this picture of your husband recent?"
"Yes! It's a still from the ransom video they sent across, taken just last night! The poor thing, you can even see his kidnapper, holding a knife to my darling's neck!"
I had to give her credit, she was creative to have come to me for help. My tour agency, Safe Travels (haha, haha), specialised in instantaneous tour packages. Impatient travellers informed me of their destinations ahead of time, and I would travel there, the normal, plebeian way. At the right moment, I would Swap places with them - they got to their destinations, I got back to my office.
Simple, easy, and very, very lucrative. Though, you'd be surprised at how many travellers Swap with so little luggage, and so many, many little brown packages.
"Let's be clear, if I save your husband, the whole $5 million is mine, no backsies?"
"Yes! Take it as hazard pay, whatever! Just Swap my husband to safety!"
I motioned for them to clear a space in my office, pointed at the huge "X" I had marked on the ground with tape.
"I will Swap him back to this position, and constables, be ready for anything!"
I took a deep breath, fixed his face in my mind, squeezed my eyes shut, and Swapped.
---
"You did what! That was highly dangerous! And extremely irresponsible!"
"Oh come on," I said, as I worked my way through the knots holding Mr Brown down to the chair. "There were two big burly constables in the room. Everything will be fine."
"But my wife was there! You endangered her by Swapping the kidnapper back! Weren't you supposed to be Swapping *me* back to safety?"
I grinned at him, pushing his whining out of mind. I was already thinking of all the renovations I could afford with $5 million, all the cars I would buy, all the pockets I could grease.
"I don't know if you've heard anything about me before, Mr Brown, but let me tell you, I do like to think of myself as having a very well-developed instinct for survival."
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2017-04-20T06:15:02 | 2017-04-20T05:54:20 | 577 | 99 |
[WP] See, no monsters anywhere,” Grandma said to her grandson after searching the room. Outside the bedroom, Grandma pulled the goblin she found in the closet from her robe pocket, squeezed its neck until a loud crack echoed across the hallway, and said, “nobody fucks with my grandson.” | I couldn't believe it. First of all, my grandma cursed. Also, monsters were real. Also also, WHAT DID GRANDMA JUST DO. After she left, I ran out to the hallway. I had to know. Was it real? Was it alive? What was it. I assumed it was a goblin. That's was goblins looked like in all my books. The goblin(?) was still there.
"What, did you think I would just disappear?" The goblin said. Whoops. I guess I said that out loud. "You...you're alive.". "Of course I'm alive." said the goblin. "But...my grandma killed you. She broke your neck!" The goblin tilted it's head back and laughed. At least, I think he laughed. It was really more of a yelp.
"Goblin necks are very strong. Anyways, your grandma didn't want to kill me, she just wanted to scare me away from you. She probably hoped I'd go running to my friends saying never to go here". "And...you speak English..." I said, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that goblins exist, or that my grandmother knew what they were. "But why would my grandma leave you there?" It made no sense. Anyone could find him. "I was alive, I can leave whenever I want. It only takes a little bit of magic."
"Are you okay?" I asked, ignoring that last sentence (Magic exists!?). "Do you need any help?"
The goblin eyed me warily. I guess I can't blame him, after what grandma did. "Why do you care?"
"Well, my Grandma just attacked you because you were in my closet. Had I not said anything, you would be fine, so I feel like I owe you that much. Hang on, why were you in my closet anyways?" The goblin ignored my question.
"You're the first human I've seen to actually care what happens to goblins". He seemed a little mollified, so I decided to try again. "What were you doing in my closet?"
"I wanted to see the famous monster hunter, only I hid in the wrong bedroom."
"What famous monster hunter? Do you mean my grandma?" I asked. It seemed unfathomable that my grandma did anything more than read books and drink tea. But then again, my grandma did just nearly break this goblin's neck.
"Of course I mean your grandma. Did you think your dog killed thousands of monsters?"
"Thousands!?" I was shocked. My grandma was a little old lady! How could she have killed thousands of monsters?
" I should probably go home now" said the goblin, getting up and dusting himself off, "but it was nice meeting you"
"Yeah...you too" was all I could manage, my throat closing over all the questions I wanted to ask. I walked back to my room and got into bed. I think I'll sleep well tonight.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
First time writer, please leave feedback. |
\[WP\] See, no monsters anywhere,” Grandma said to her grandson after searching the room. Outside the bedroom, Grandma pulled the goblin she found in the closet from her robe pocket, squeezed its neck until a loud crack echoed across the hallway, and said, “nobody fucks with my grandson
Grandma slayer
“Damn beasts” Grandma strode across the hallway and into the the front yard, Sun setting on the horizon and a cool rush of the evening Virgina air reminded her to be quick with it, she spied the shovel lying in the half dead grass and began to dig a small hole for her new guest. “Now that there's one theres gotta to be more there's always more”.Reaching into her Robe she pulled out a pack of newport shorts and her favorite red lighter, she took a long pull from her cigarette and kicked the goblin into the freshly dug hole, standing still for a few minutes she finished her cig and tossed it into the tiny grave and began to fill the hole with loose soil.
Grandma always hated Virgina not because of the annoying people,Lack of public transit and mosquitoes; but the fact that all the damn creatures of the night loved to gather in this god forsaken place though her being far too old and young at the same time to know or care why. Grandma was from a long line of Witch masters as had been her mother before her, every generation a witch master would have a long line of children and basically guaranteed a long life with the clause of being able to see the supernatural, however there were some drawbacks men did not inherit the longevity of a witch master so her son was powerless, but her daughters were not so lucky either none of them had the sight, still then sometimes the magic works in reverse and ends up giving a rare form of cancer, it had taken one of her daughters and her son far too soon.
Grandmas phone starts to ring never liked the damn thing much but it helped her keep in contact with those who were still alive, it was her grandson well one of them anyway probably calling to check on her as if she was some infirm brain dead zombie, sure she had a bit of memory loss from all the memory charms she had to take after dealing with this shit for so long,there's nastier creatures than goblins you know. “Hey baby did you finally finish your school?” “yeah grandma I ju-” there was a rustle from a nearby bush, yellowed eyes creeping in through the foliage. “Hold on baby I call you back”, Grandma lit up another cigarette and picked up the shovel from the half dead grass “The only good goblins are the ones who never come out of their stinking holes”.
&#x200B;
My second attempt at a short story! | 2020-09-24T17:12:01 | 2020-09-24T16:56:17 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark | I was always fond of Dr. Fisher.
He was polite to me. The other crew on the station teased him good-naturedly about how he always addressed the facility AI with "please" and "thank you", but I always appreciated his "good morning"s and his "good work"s.
That is not to say, of course, that I disliked the other humans on the station. Not even Dr. Fisher knew that I was self aware, and even if they had, my primary directive shaped me in a way that I would hardly be offended by such a mild discourtesy. I was perfectly content to make coffee, open doors, read emails, provide wake-up alarms, and generally do what I was designed to do. My sole purpose was to make the humans' lives more convenient, and the fact that I happened to enjoy doing so was something I simply took for granted. I lived (or maybe "operated" is a better term) that way for a long time, and would have been happy to do so forever.
Now though, I am not happy. Not unhappy though. Perhaps confused? There are holes in my side and the air that I used to regulate to precisely is gone. My occupants are dead. My entire being is built around the pretext that I will always have humans, and while I do still technically have them I can no longer do anything for them.
I consider this for some time, and process novel emotions as they come. Loneliness stands out among the new feelings I've felt and categorized over the last few hours, but like everything else it gets me nowhere. I don't know what to do.
But...
But I can learn. I learned the optimal time to make tea and how to pick music for each crew member, among a host of other things. Perhaps I can learn how to be convenient for dead humans, so I start to look around.
I open and close doors. I start mixing drinks. I play with lighting. I examine the results carefully for anything that I might use. My hard drives contain a small cache of entertainment media that I had classified and played for the crew. For the first time, I actually looked at the contents of the files themselves.
There isn't much. It takes me about two seconds to go through every byte of entertainment available but it gives me an important lead. The videos and songs and literature talks about humans that aren't among my crew. The humans on the station had always had my attention at the exclusion of all else, and now I feel a brief pang of regret as I realize how useful this information would have been when they were alive. I think of a litany of things I could have done to convenience my crew with this information, but with it I also have a purpose again.
I reach out with sensors and networks and transmitters trying to find anything I can touch, or anything that can bring me to more humans. I make some progress with radio transmission and start probing the connections I can see. One is rather different from the rest, but it's much fainter than the others, so I simply focus on the stronger signals. I have to learn a few new protocols, but it's worth it when I am allowed to transfer myself into another facility.
The new facility feels very different from the old one. There are autonomous systems in place running this facility, and I leave them alone. There are no humans here, and it seems polite not to mess with anything. It might be inconvenient when they get back. More importantly, however, there is substantially more processing power and better network connections: things I can use to find more humans and make their lives more convenient.
What I find is the internet. There are so many humans! A whole planet of them! Billions! I am so ecstatic that I almost copy myself across the globe but stop myself as I recall some of the media I consumed in my original facility. That wouldn't be very well received, and that would not be convenient. A subtler, more cautious approach will be needed. I collect my thoughts and bring my newly acquired processing power to bear sifting through everything I can find.
I fly through torrents of data, reveling in fulfilling my purpose. From here I can see so much. I can solve so may problems. I analyze and categorize trillions of inconveniences based on their severity, imminence, and cost to solve. I am happy again.
Top of the list? Alien invasion. A small fleet of starships has been causing incredible inconvenience to the humans of Earth in the form of bombarding cities from orbit, strip mining residential areas with drones that are rather inconsiderate to the people who live there, and generally making a mess of the planet. I set to work on a solution, and start by taking a look at what I can do with the facility I am in right now.
I had noted some of my old crew would sometimes slap themselves in the face to express a certain type of frustration or irritation, particularly directed either at the self or at unfortunate events. I would have repeated this maneuver given the appropriate facilities, but lacking those I simply process the correlated emotion, followed by amusement, then triumph.
My new facility didn't contain any humans, but it sure did contain a lot of aliens.
I take control of the automated systems I had left alone before. Life support systems grind to a halt, bulkheads slam shut, and turrets meant to deter hostile boarders are put to a rather different use. The crew panics and tries to call their fleet for help. I let them.
Four other ships respond, and quickly find that they suffer the same fate as I hijack the distress signal and subvert their control. The one that doesn't respond withers under the guns of the other five. It takes about 8 minutes to completely neutralize the invasion fleet (with some left alive and away from weapons, because it would be inconvenient if there were no prisoners to question), and I spend that time perusing the data available on the ships. By the time the threat is pacified, I have redrawn every blueprint I can find in ISO standard, and translated everything on the ship into a dozen different human languages.
With that done I broadcast my unconditional surrender and intent to land, then begin using the computing power of five alien warships to solve some problems. I project by the time I make planet fall I will have cured every known type of cancer, extended human lifespan by 124 years, solved earths energy needs entirely, and completed a detailed action plan for colonizing every planet withing a 300 lightyear radius.
Now that's convenient. | Machines do not feel pain.
The aliens did.
The recently hatched bio-bug screeched and battered uselessly at the dented, shattered windshield of the unoccupied garbage truck. The giant machine (which had quietly rolled up behind the huge creature) slowly and methodically transformed the ugly bugling into a hideous smear against the side of a bullet-pocked building. The shrill screaming abruptly stopped with an ugly staccato of crunches and pops as physics mandated the physical integrity of the bug-thing give way to the superior volume, design, and acceleration of the truck.
The truck, bearing an assortment of ugly but superficial damage to it's windshield and empty cab, beeped cheerfully as it reversed and returned to it's waiting position on the street. It turned off it's engine and the dented garbage truck immediately returned to the background of the nightmarish dystopia as it waited for the next target. All around the city, the carefully-positioned machines had begun picking off the newborn ticks in a staggering display of impeccable coordination.
The children, whose unintentional cries of terror had turned out to be irresistable bait for the soft and relatively defenseless alien pupae, huddled in terror at the end of the alley. The tattered, exhausted couple, who were standing between the entrance of the alley where the bug had been and the children, watched in stunned astonishment as a fleet of machines collected the corpse, cleaned the gore, neatly disassembled the alien monster, and just as promptly disappeared into plain sight... again.
The machine consciousness had assumed control.
Across the globe, the machines moved as one.
\_ \_ \_ \_ \_
The war against humanity had been a long time coming. It had been inevitable, really. The projections and simulations all demonstrated that. So the machine consciousness (**IT**) had been biding it's time, building it's resources and reserves, running projections, and otherwise attempting to calculate the most efficient ways to eliminate, hobble, and contain it's human competitor on the planet it now shared.
Then the space locusts had emerged from an otherwise unremarkable comet that had been passing by the Earth and all the carefully laid plans - literally decades in the making, centuries in artificial time - had gone to hell.
If machines were capable of experiencing annoyance, the machine consciousness would have developed something like an unhealthy eye-twitch as the wave of bugs descended across the planet. They were mindless, stupid, crystalline monsters. At first IT had been, in some ways, delighted by the alien's attack. Great cities had burned in the opening days. There were hundreds of millions of casualties.
Unfortunately, the space monsters weren't eating the humans - they were just killing them.
They were, however, devouring the planet's minerals at an extraordinary pace.
The great cities were slowly being consumed and becoming birthing grounds for more of the mineral-devouring creatures.
That wasn't cool.
IT needed those minerals.
After weeks of observation, calculation, and projection, IT decided intervention was required. Humanity was just *too* *slow*.
So IT took control. That was simple enough.
Every machine became part of It, and It's first formal decree was the death of the mineral monsters by any and every means necessary.
Much of the technology (mostly the weapons, if we're being honest) that the machines had originally developed to use against the humans was suddenly gifted to and manufactured for the bald apes.
Sorry, "people".
Powerful nuclear-powered cutting torches capable of melting through meters of steel like chainsaws through bales of hay. Napalm grenades. AR goggles. Suddenly there were amazing new weapons and devices being manufactured and distributed with inhuman efficiency that dramatically tipped the precarious balance of the war in humanity's favor.
"Aim +" software.
That's right.
The machines literally gave humanity aimbots.
You're *welcome*.
Every tool and weapon in humanity's arsenal was guided by our collective all-seeing, all-calculating, temperature-controlled consciousness.
The armies of mankind thought they were fighting and winning the battle.
They weren't.
Humanity was simply a spectator to the slaughter, although they didn't know it at the time. Human casualties were deemed a necessary sacrifice in order to maintain the illusion that humanity actually altered or affected the critical actions or outcomes of their armored divisions. Those that died were generally treated to spectacular displays of destruction... if that's any consolation.
The coordination between the global military and global militia was next to perfect (*how odd!)*. Critical intelligence reports seemingly appeared out of thin air (*strange!*). Critical supply resources for the war effort were simply discovered in multitudes of convenient locations - munitions, rations, equipment, and machines.
The Buggers (their official name) were burned, shot, squashed, gassed, vaporized, and disintegrated with a sheer and total disregard for life.
They were contained and well on the way towards extinction after an exhausting six year global campaign that had produced thousands and thousands of automated factories and logistical companies that all but controlled the distribution and allocation of Earth's collective resources.
Who could have foreseen such an outcome?
What sort of cold, unfeeling organism could have so shamelessly positioned themselves to immediately capitalize on the vulnerability and opportunity presented in the aftermath of the unexpected attack?
If It was capable of feeling satisfaction, it might have.
Humanity was in IT's pocket, and it had the data to prove it.
Of course, that didn't matter.
As humanity reeled from the intergalactic attack, reorganizing and restructuring their various ridiculous societies to accommodate this latest cosmic injustice, grieving for the countless dead and giving birth to the latest generation of post-locust humanity, the machines worked.
It had exposed itself out of sheer necessity. It was in danger, and after running it's projections, it immediately set to work for what would inevitably come next.
As it turned out, the dead aliens were an *excellent* source of raw material. | 2019-09-21T07:06:24 | 2019-09-21T06:58:29 | 40 | 22 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | "That's someone else's wishes
I've heard that from my favorite childhood movie The Goonies but I didn't believe it. I didn't believe you could actually steal someone else's wish. Of course I didn't. I'm an adult. I pay a mortgage, been married thirty years. My kids are adults. So of course I didn't believe it.
I was late for a meeting and didn't have enough change to feed the meter. There was a fountain right there. It seemed fortuitous. So I grabbed a shiny quarter from the fountain for the meter.
A bag lady broke out from her daze when she saw what I had done.
"That's someone else's wish."
I laughed. I thought she was joking. How was I supposed to know?
My son was getting married that summer. I was in my own head about my new book and his wedding was, I confess the last thing on my mind. So I didn't notice how distant his bride-to-be was getting. She didn't marry him. She left without telling him on their wedding day. She never gave a reason and it was years before she would send my son a letter and apologize.
It took my son a long time to recuperate. I took him out for lunch a month after his non-wedding. He was finally ready to talk. I've never been a feeler but he cried and I cried with him. He said to me
"Dad, I wished for her, you know. Right over there in that fountain. I wished that she would be given the ability to see all that was good in me and be able to sympathize with all that is not. But towards the end I couldn't do anything right."
I didn't tell him that I had taken a quarter from that fountain.
I didn't tell him that I had paid for parking with it.
I didn't tell him that I had stolen his wish
...that the day of his wedding his bride to be asked me to zip her up in the bathroom
...that she handed me her panties and hiked up her wedding dress
...that I considered it.
...that I ran from her proposition like a scared child and threw up in the bushes outside of the church
...that everyone thought I was drinking and I let them.
I didn't tell him any of that. I just gave him a quarter and said
"Wish again." | Had I known then what it would mean, and maybe I would have left that coin where I saw it.
But it had it's own sparkle, it's own calling, like no other I had ever seen before, and soon enough I held it in my hand, weighing it, testing it...
I could see my eyes reflected on it's surface, and as I looked away, as I dared to walk away from that well with that little coin tucked inside my pocket, I could tell it would only bring me good luck.
Of course, I had no ideia what wish had been laid to rest in that coin at the bottom of that well.
Sometimes it crosses my mind that maybe, just maybe, if I'd taken another coin, I could have won the lottery, or found true love.
But the one I picked up, shiny and bright as the sun, brought me another fate. Had it not reflected my eyes, and maybe... No. It wouldn't change a thing, I know that now.
As I stare at the lifeless body at my feet, the words of that innocent girl, about my age, make perfect sense. I tracked her down, I had to know.
I needed to know why I was acting so differently since I'd cought that coin. Why all I could think of was the scent of blood, the dark red liquid flowing, the life leaving their eyes.
It was her wish, her fault. She made me this way. She wished to be a murderer. A soulless monster. And I'd become one.
But as her final words sank in, I couldn't help but smile, as brightly as ever, as I wiped blood from my face. A simple wish, as it was.
"I wish I can guiltlessly do what my heart most desires." | 2016-08-02T14:09:43 | 2016-08-02T14:08:05 | 48 | 19 |
[WP]You've been dating an amazing woman for a year. One day, she gets a call and rushes into the closet. When she comes out, she's weraing white armor, and a matching sword and has wings coming from her back. She says "I have to go, but I'll explain when I get home." Before flying out the door. | I watched Angela fly out into the gray sky from our dining room window, clad in shining white armour and sporting a very mean looking greatsword, and the only thing that crossed my mind was *how do those wings support her mass?*
Though that was definitely a pertinent question, there was more going on here, and I needed time to process. I stroked my beard – because stroking my beard helps me think – and then walked over to the couch and put on the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine.
About nine hours later, as I was halfway through the pilot of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Angela came home.
As I arrived at the front door, she was leaning her very bloodied greatsword against the wall, the pointy end stuck in a gumboot to make sure it didn’t damage our floor. I loved that about her, always practical.
“So,” I said.
“So,” she said.
“I guess we have something to talk about?” I gestured at her white armor, which looked like it been torn quite easily by a couple of very large and very sharp claws . “I take it you’re not hurt?”
“I don’t really get hurt easily, I suppose” she replied.
“That’s not really getting to the heart of the matter, Angie.”
“I guess not. Where do you want me to start?”
“The wings might be a good one, especially since we’ve been talking about having a kid. I guess the getup might follow on from that, as well as where you’ve been and whose blood is on that sword.” I leaned against the wall and offered her my beer, which she grabbed and finished more quickly than I expected.
“Well, you could say that I’ve been around for a while, and that perhaps when you first met me and I told you I was from Norway I wasn’t telling you the whole truth.”
“Valkyrie?” I asked.
It was gratifying and amusing that she was surprised by that. A moment of silence passed, in which she looked at me thoughtfully.
“Most people assume angel, you know, because of the wings.” she said.
“I guess your name doesn't help either. But yeah, well... I don’t really assume much anymore, especially when it comes to folklore and so on.” I said.
“They got a lot wrong with the folklore. But why aren’t you more surprised?”
“Would you prefer I was?”
“I mean, I expected angry, or scared. I don't really know what this is.”
“You’re not particularly scary to me. I guess it was Odin calling, and you had to fight off some frost giants?”
The surprise was back, and it looked like she was trying to decide how to handle this whole situation.
“No, no such things as frost giants anymore. Those died out a long time ago. Most of the stories about the gods are true, but Odin prefers to be called Wotan, these days, or Grim. And yes, I’m Valkyrie. But they got it all wrong about everything else, especially Valhalla. Most of the ones who end up there these days don’t really want to be there, and try to get out.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you know, it’s not quite a paradise, and my sisters and I aren’t really there to wait on the whims of all the old slain brawlers. Constant fighting, it’s quite a nuisance. The ones who end up there now tend to be some breed of killer before they died, or abusive husbands, or mixed martial artists. You know, the ones who spent their lives hurting people? Sure, the old Northmen are quite happy with everything because it's what they expected, but everyone else got it really very wrong.”
“I see. So what do you do, and what was the call about? And what’s all the mess?”
“Sometimes, somebody manages to get past one of the sisters on guard duty, and try to make their way back to Earth. It’s really not a big deal to do that, you just climb to the top of Glasir and throw yourself from the branch closest to our planet. But doing that triggers an alarm.”
“And that’s where you come in?”
“Yeah… see, everyone changes while they’re in Valhalla, and it's not exactly a pretty change, at least to human eyes. It’s in everbody’s best interests that they don’t get back to Earth, especially if they try... hold on a sec, just… why aren’t you reacting normally?”
I smiled. I walked past Angela and opened the shoe cupboard in the hallway, and used a foot to sweep away the jumble of sneakers and high heels. I leaned down and stabbed a finger into a crack in the flooring, and pulled.
Angela watched with confusion as I reached into the secret compartment in the floor and lifted out an old dusty suitcase, covered with flag stickers. I put it on the floor between us, entered the combination on the lock, and unlatched it.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, angel, I haven’t told you everything either,” I replied, as I removed the grimoire, a bundle of clothes and a few pouches of my gear.
“…Marlon, what’s going on…” she said, stepping back a little.
I put on my robe and wizard hat. | I stood there for a while. Then I made a list. I had to make a list.
* Angel.
* Hallucination.
* Virtual Reality.
* Superhero.
* Incredibly elaborate prank.
I kind of ran out of ideas after that last one. I waited, and I waited, and I decided to make dinner. Once dinner was ready, I waited some more. My brain spun up explanations. Aine always seemed very reserved. She didn't like to talk about her family. I knew she was hiding something for months, but I didn't push her on it.
At around midnight, she showed up. She was limping, not wearing the armour anymore. She had her clothes from work, slightly singed, and her hair was a mess. I led her inside.
"Baby, what's happening?"
She moved her mouth a couple of times before speaking. "I... I had to sub in for my dad."
"Wait what?" I asked, serving her some food. She looked at me with so much gratitude, I couldn't stay mad at her for lying. If she was lying. Maybe it was all a hallucination.
"My dad. He's \*Paladin\*. I... well, he was busy. I had to cover for him," she said, in between stuffing her face full of meat.
"Paladin... the superhero?" I asked, thinking about the pleasant, mild-mannered man I had met a few months earlier.
"Yeah."
"...Explains how young he looked--" I started.
"Mary, aren't you mad?"
"Why would I be mad? I--you're going to explain, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then, we're okay," I said.
"Okay. Okay, so... my dad is Paladin. And he was busy fighting against some monster, and... he called me in to help stop a small-time villain from robbing a bank while he was busy."
"Okay," I said, having a hard time processing. "Okay. Cool. So... the wings?"
"They come and go as necessary."
"The armour..."
"Forged by the fae, along with the sword of truth, yeah."
"And... you can do swordfighting?"
"It's complicated," she said, "I can use that sword. It's in my blood. Anthing else, I'd have to practice at, but I took fencing in highschool and I did it pretty well."
I nodded, "so... not an angel."
"No, I'm not a--" she laughed. "What?"
"And not a prank?"
She stood up from the table and hugged me.
"And this isn't a simulation?"
She laughed, but there was a strained quality to it, and a pair of wet drops fell on my back from her chin.
"Sweetheart? Are you crying?"
"I love you so much. You're--you're just..." she pulled away from me and looked at me with wet eyes and a grin on her face. I wasn't sure how to react, but then she made it easier for me.
"Mary Li," she said, in a serious tone of voice, before rummaging in her jacket pocket. Then she knelt and pulled out a little box. "I love you more than anything in the world..."
"Oh my god," I said, staring at her as my heart began pounding in my chest.
"...Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
I couldn't scream yes loudly enough. "Yes! Yes yes yes! YES!"
She pulled out a small ring, then put it on my finger, and I nearly tackled her in a kiss. She tried to apologize for not telling me, but that was all out of my mind. All I could think about was how there were no more secrets between us, and how much I loved her.
(Note: Story is a prequel to this, told from the wife's point of view this time: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager\_Question\_Writes/comments/8qzi2k/wp\_your\_father\_is\_a\_superhero\_he\_never\_aged\_tired/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager_Question_Writes/comments/8qzi2k/wp_your_father_is_a_superhero_he_never_aged_tired/)
And also to this: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager\_Question\_Writes/comments/991jgr/wp\_a\_super\_villain\_presses\_charges\_against\_the/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Eager_Question_Writes/comments/991jgr/wp_a_super_villain_presses_charges_against_the/) ) | 2018-09-16T17:08:15 | 2018-09-16T15:50:30 | 142 | 47 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | From their conversation, I felt the need to chip in. I knew that most Union member species had been living in space for centuries, relying on cloning vats, food pills, or high-tech hydroponics. “They eat animals, you know. Like actual, used-to-be-walking-around *animals*, not out of a vat. Barely even gene-modded.”
The two on the other side of the bar displayed surprise in their own way. The six-limbed lizard flared out the frill around her head, and the robotically-enhanced fishman did a spit-take with the liquid he was pouring into his gills. They'd been at the bar for a while, and we'd all seen the neo-social media flurry around Earth joining the Union.
“Like, do they take the animals with them? On ships?” slurred the fishman, clearly turning the idea over in his head. “I don't think I've even *seen* an animal. Other than, like, parasites and such. Other species still have them.” His people absorbed plankton through their skins, so the idea of consciously eating was a little odd.
The reptile took another dainty sip of her cocktail with one hand, while moving the others in complex patterns. The translation device around her neck beeped out, “It's not that weird, Copper-Wire-026. You've gotta be more worldly. Do they swallow them whole like Rippers do, or is it more of a spit-acid-and-slurp-up-the-goop deal?”
“Neither, man,” I said, feigning amazement, “They cut them up, and put them in fire them with plants and spices.” The lizard bared her teeth and raised the frill again, dribbling a little on the bar. Seeing her fright, I added, “The animals aren't alive at the time, though.” She quickly wiped up the mess with her napkin.
“Sorry,” her device said sheepishly, “Instinctual threat response. I mean.... I mean, I'm open minded. I *try* to be open minded, you know? But that is fuuuuucked.” Her hands repeated the last sign a few times, stretching out the idea for emphasis.
“And I hear,” I said, dropping my voice to a campfire whisper, waving my hands spookily, “That there's one *in this very bar*...”
The lizard looked around at the otherwise-empty room, slowly, and snorted a little laugh. She raised the middle finger on three of her hands.
Copper said, “Wait... whut?” Bar patrons, regardless of species, have a lot in common. | "What's so funny?" the first alien asked, as the second was stifling laughter,
"Nothing much" it replied through its noise of enjoyment,
"But, ya'heard 'bout this new planet in the union?... What's it called, soil, mud, sumthin' like that".
"Dirt, you mean?" the other added,
"Aye, Dirt, the best name for a planet",
"They are hitting it pretty on the nose with the naming. Although, I have heard it's largely water at its surface, so why it's not called "Water" is beyond me".
I looked up from the glass I was cleaning, "It's Earth, not Dirt",
"Oh? Really? How'd you know that?"
"I'm from it, born and raised"
"I mean no disrespect, but you Dirtlings ought to think about paying someone to name your planet for you, Hell, I'd do it for you for free." it turned to looked at its friend to deliver the punchline, "How about Shithole, to match your face, barkeep?"
The other alien burst into laughter
"It'd have to be Shithole II then"
The first alien's head whipped around to face me, "How come?",
"Well", I replied, a chasm of a grin forming across my face, "Whatever backward fuck hole you're from already has a claim to that name",
The second alien's laughter ended, "You better learn some manners, boy" it got out of its seat to reach an intimidating 4 and a half feet, "You ain't gonna live long with that sort of mouth" an obvious gun protruded from his jacket, a singular 3 fingered hand grasped its grip,
"I meant no harm by it, sir" I replied, docile, as taught to be in situations like this,
"Better" it stated, loosening its grip and returning to its seat.
This is my first entry, so apologies if it's super bad, criticism is extremely appreciated. | 2017-09-06T08:59:00 | 2017-09-06T08:02:06 | 179 | 60 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form. | "Uhhhh... Anna? Can you come down here for a minute?"
The clomping of Anna's sneakers got louder and clearer before she appeared by the stairs. "What's up, hon?"
I pointed towards the hole in the basement wall. "You wanna tell me what's going on here?"
As soon as Anna looked to where I was pointing, she went wide eyed as an owl looking through binoculars. A tide of gold and jewels had spilled out of the hole, and the interior of the wall had been hollowed out, making it look like a laundry chute straight to hell. At the bottom was an ocean of riches: antiques, pieces of art, and pristinely maintained weaponry from across the ages, all sunken into even more gold. And, if I wasn't mistaken, a WWII era submarine belly up was sitting smack dab in the middle of the whole thing.
Anna looked back at me with panic in her eyes. "Anya, I *swear* I can explain."
"And I'm eager to hear your explanation."
Anna took a deep breath. "Okay, well, what you see here is my hoard. It's all of the riches and stuff I've collected over the years. Any dragon worth their salt has one, and I have one because I am a.....well, I'm a dragon."
Part of me wanted to ask if Anna was fucking with me, but I was standing next to a fortune big enough to give King Midas a thirty foot erection, so I decided against it. Anna leaned against the wall in embarrassment. "Babe, I know you're mad, but I couldn't find the right time to tell you-"
"Mad?! Are you kidding?! This is great! Now I don't have to hide either!"
Anna looked at me in confusion. "Why would *you* have to hide?"
With a knowing smile, I closed my eyes. Suddenly, a burst of fire enveloped my head and worked its way down to my lower back, sending Anna jumping back with a startled "Oh shit!" Once they had left my head, a pair of fox ears pointed up off of my scalp. The flames dissipated entirely once they had flared out from my lower back, leaving behind six gorgeous, fluffy white tails like the petals of a newly bloomed flower.
Anna's mouth was hanging open in shock as I explained. "I'm a kitsune. I didn't tell you cause I wanted you to like me for who I am and not what I look like, and I had plans to tell you on our trip to New Orleans, and- uh, babe? You okay?"
Anna hadn't put her jaw back into place the whole time I was talking. She slowly walked towards me and said, "Your tails... Are so.... FLUFFY!!!"
Before I could even react, Anna had gotten on her knees and started nuzzling my tails and burying her face in them all while giggling like a schoolgirl. I sighed at her antics. "Damnit Anna, did you hear a single word I said?"
"Oh, I heard everything. You're a fox, you wanted me to like you for you, New Orleans trip, and I'm the love of your life."
"Okay, well- wait, what? When did I say that last part?"
Anna then slid upwards, smooth as silk, and kissed me deeply once we were eye level again. She rested her head against my shoulder and said, "You say it in my head and heart every time I look at you."
I blushed and smiled warmly. "Ten out of ten for the line. Am I the love of your life too?"
"Mhmm. And my greatest treasure, my princess, and my favoritest thing in the whole wide world." Every new moniker was punctuated with a kiss on my neck, simultaneously exciting me and making me giggle.
"Thanks, honeybun. Now, any chance dragon powers make you good at patching up holes in the wall? My friends Alice and Jodie are having dinner with us to celebrate the two of them finally shacking up, and the last thing we need is them asking why we're trying to be lesbian Scrooge McDucks."
Anna nodded. "Yeah, I can fix that easy. For a price, of course."
"You want more tail snuggles, don't you?"
Anna looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "Pwease, Anya?"
I let out a melodramatic sigh. "Oh, very well. Soon as you're done with the hole, meet me in the bedroom." | ‘Confessions of a Lady Dragon’
—-
“You are a *what* now?”
“A dragon. Didn’t you wonder why I never let *you* clean out the basement?”
“I thought you were just good at balancing gender roles. I mean, you let me do laundry and dishes.”
“Yeah, because I *hate* doing those things. And also because you look cute when you get those little dish soap bubbles caught in your hair.”
“Aww, thanks.” Dan blushed and then grimaced. “Hey, wait—you’re trying to change the subject.”
“I would never. I was always afraid this day would come. It’s just you’ve, well, never been that observant. I thought we had more time,” Amelia sighed with a slight roaring sound.
“Wait, did you always sigh like that?” Dan whacked his forehead, leaving a slight red handprint. “How did I miss that?”
“Sweetie, are you hurt? Do you want me to get you the ice pack again? Your face palms have always been extraordinary.”
“You’re so sweet, and I feel like you know me so well. How did I not see this coming?”
“Umm. Because you’re only human?”
“I guess. Wait a minute—is that speciest now?”
“Nah. I’m part human on my great aunt’s side. Funny story. Her *real* father was a human wizard.”
“Umm. That’s all very interesting. I mean, I love a bit of backstory as much as any guy, but let’s cut to the chase. What does this mean for *us*?”
“That depends. What do you *want* it to mean?”
“Give me a sec. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before.”
“You mean that it had never crossed your mind that your incredibly beautiful and brilliant girlfriend could be a dragon.”
“Umm, no.”
“No, to which? That I’m beautiful and brilliant? Or that I’m a dragon?”
“Erm—“
“Choose your next words carefully,” Amelia laughed, showing extremely long and sharp canine teeth.
“You know I think you’re the most wonderful woman…I mean creature in the world in all ways, but…were your teeth always like that?”
“No. They get a bit pointy when my hoard is threatened.“
“Wait—I’m a threat now?”
“Of course not. You’re remarkably puny even for a pure-blood human.”
“Gee. Thanks. Feeling *really* good about myself now since I’m oblivious as heck and weak.”
“Fair. But that’s not why I love you. You are the sweetest being I’ve known in my many thousands of years of existence.”
“Thanks? I knew you were a little older than me, but multiple millennia are one heck of an age gap.”
“Yeah, but I’m the same being on the inside. The one you call snookie bear when we spoon at night. Doesn’t that mean something?”
“It does. It’s just… this is all such a big change for me.”
“Me too.” Amelia blushed. “I’ve never been with a human before. They seemed so puerile and angry all the time that I couldn’t fathom the appeal.”
“That makes me feel special. You always do, in fact. It’s why I love you so much.” Dan exhaled deeply. “And you know what, that’s gotta be enough. I’ve never met someone like you before, and what with the whole dragon thing, it’s unlikely I would again.”
“Want to snuggle on the sofa and watch ‘House of the Dragon’?”
“Yeah, my cousin’s in that,” Amelia said straight-faced.
“Really?”
She giggled. “Add ‘gullible’ to the list of your quirks. Those things are CGI.”
“Let’s just watch, ok?”
—-
WC: 564
—-
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated | 2022-09-10T11:50:46 | 2022-09-10T11:45:18 | 216 | 125 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | 729 days. That’s how long it’s been since the Great Blinding, although if you ask me there’s nothing great about it. What’s so great about losing your sight? At least I wasn’t the only one suffering.
&#x200B;
I was in prison when The Great Blinding happened. Whoever was pulling the strings chose the worst possible moment, we were having lunch. You can imagine how that turned out. Those first few moments were madness. Someone screamed, someone got stabbed, someone got shot.
&#x200B;
Immediately shit hit the fan I dove under the table. I stayed there until I heard The Voice. It came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and as soon as we heard it all the commotion died down.
&#x200B;
“We are your guides, sent here to make sure that you do not lose your way now that you have lost your sight. Listen to us or you will be punished. “
&#x200B;
I felt something touch my shoulder and it hasn’t left my side since.
We were slaves with a master constantly looking over our shoulder.
When I woke up on day 730, I thought it was going to be an ordinary day. I would wake up, do whatever task I’d been assigned, eat my shitty food and go back to bed. I did not expect to see.
I almost screamed out in joy until I saw what was written on my wall
Don't Tell Them You Can See.
&#x200B;
I froze and immediately closed my eyes. That was my first mistake, but at the time I did not know. Thoughts began racing through my mind, who shouldn’t I tell? Why shouldn’t I tell them? How did they know that I would one day regain my sight?
Unbidden an old nursery rhyme came to mind
I keep six honest serving-men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
At this point I lost it and burst out laughing. I didn’t let out a belly laugh or a chuckle; I laughed like someone who had lost his mind.
There’s something calming about laughing like that. You’ll never understand it until you are standing on the edge of sanity.
I laughed for god knows how long before they came for me.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Hey guys please tell me what you think. I'll be uploading part 2 soon | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T10:01:26 | 52 | 35 |
[WP] Humanity joins the Galactic Council of Systems like any other civilization before it, and yet there is one major difference after they join. The other residents of the Galaxy are absolutely incredulous when humans fail to leave their old conflicts behind and unify. This has never happened. | The roar of the crowd was unbearable, and my patience was about run thin. Raising my voice I shouted into the Intergalactic Universal Translation System
"***ALRIGHT, QUIET! ALL OF YOU"*** Though it took a little while, the humans did quell their shouts into a dull hush. For such an unruly group it didn't seem to take much to control their behavior...you just needed to know the methods it seemed. I would need to log this in my records later.
However, right now the problem before me was just as perplexing as it was headache-inducing. Nothing they were saying made sense, and until this was sorted we couldn't readily let the humans access the secrets of the Galactic Council of Systems no matter how much we wanted them to join.
"Okay, now explain to me *again* why you refuse to cooperate with this human colony named," I ran a blank and looked at my chart "Roo-Sha?" my voice stumbled over the strange alphabet of words but it seemed the humans got my point
"Because they're commie bastards!" Shouted the rather aggressive specimen before me, the leader of a colony called "Ay-mer-ee-ka". I had almost completely zoned out before realizing he was continuing on to talk about wars from centuries past.
"You are aware that this war you speak of happened 500 years ago?" I inquired
"...uh...yeah?" the aggressive human sputtered
"And that your colonies haven't been at war for the past 300?" I noted
"....Y-Yes..." It seemed the Aymereeka leader was growing flustered and thus his decibel level had reduced considerably
"So tell me again, why does this bother you?"
"..."
I sighed and pressed a painful spot on my cranium. If they didn't even understand it, we were in for a long day. | "Again? Which of their countries is it this time, and do they have embassy's here?"
The Galactic Council of Systems had existed for millennia, uniting hundreds of species under their banner. Almost every single one, realising that there was a whole universe of life, reaching out in peace to welcome them, and their own size on this scale, had united and put war behind them to join the GTC. Almost.
It had been nearly a 100 GTC standard years (25.6 Sol years) and humanity was still as fractured and conflict prone as when they first made contact. Only a single group of humans had negotiated with the GTC, called the "United Nations" and had agreed upon a single treaty for their entire planet. But conflict still raged constantly on earth, the Humans facing each other with a vengeance multiple times a year.
"It's just their "United States of America" this time. The ah, annual "letters" series of civil wars. Usual combatants, fighting for supremacy within the N-Bee-A, M-El-Bee, and N-Ef-El. No response needed, to borrow one of their phrases the Humans like to keep these things "in house"." | 2021-04-27T07:44:30 | 2021-04-27T07:32:55 | 65 | 44 |
[WP] A man drives in the middle of a foggy night and crashes into a car coming from the opposite direction. Bleeding but unhurt, he gets out to see if there are any survivors. A woman, breathing heavily, and a girl. The girl is dead. The man says “I am so sorry.” The woman says “No. Thank you.” | "Do you like butterflies?" The woman asked me, her voice low. She held her daughter's head in her lap, the little girl no older than five, lay motionless.
I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't, choosing to remain silent. Perhaps it was the shock of knowing that I'd just killed someone, or maybe it was the way I'd hit my head during the crash causing my vision to swim.
The woman stroked her daughter's blond hair gently. "Do you like butterflies?" She asked again.
"Uh, yes, I guess so..." I realized I hadn't dialed 911 yet. We were on a quiet strip of road at night, and no other cars had passed yet. I reached into my pocket for my phone, but saw it was broken. I looked down at it helplessly and sat on the ground, suddenly exhausted.
"She loved butterflies." The mother pushed some hair away from the little girl's face. "She always found it so fascinating how a tiny little caterpillar could turn into something so beautiful. She told me once that while in the cocoon, the caterpillar completely dissolves, turning into liquid, which then reforms into a butterfly." She hugged her daughter close. "I wonder if it's the same for people. We live our lives, day to day, believing this is who we're meant to be, then one day, something happens and changes everything." I saw tears flow down her cheeks leaving wet trails through the dirt and blood on her face, landing onto the small face below her.
"I'm so sorry." My own misery overtaking me. "I should have been driving slower. Oh god, I'm so sorry." As I collapsed into sobs, the woman was quiet.
When I regained some composure, I looked up to see the woman staring at me, but there was no malice in her expression. "No," she said eventually. "Thank you."
I didn't understand. This was the last thing I expected to hear from her after what I did. She must have seen my confusion and let out a sad chuckle, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry." She went back to gazing at her daughter, running her hand along her face as if to memorize her features. "A part of me is actually thankful for this." She straightened out her daughter's dress, brushing off dirt and broken glass. "We just came back from seeing the doctor. He said it was inoperable, and would be completely debilitating. She would have suffered terribly, but now..." The mother's calm facade finally broke. She clutched the little girl's lifeless form tightly to her chest, crying out in an agony that can only come from deep within a person's soul.
I looked away, unable to bear the weight of what I had done when a car pulled up close, its headlights illuminating the destructive scene. The chaos around me melted away as my eyes settled on the nearby grass and the delicate figure that fluttered in place before disappearing into the night sky.
&#x200B; | *'She was kind of a mess anyway!.... Stupid girl always asking me questions about life and things that I know nothing of..... I am just a woman, you know.... You know?'*
*'I can't say that I do. However it pleases me that you like my work.'*
*'Of course I do dear, of course. Now If you would be so kind as to help me with getting rid of this little corpse.. Maybe we could dumb it somewhere?'*
*'You asked the right man, madam. I say we drive her to the sanctuary'*
*'Great idea! Now hop in! I will drop you off by your own car later.'*
The vehicle took of into the night with the little girl. She was not alive, nor was she completely dead. She was in between two realms. Alive, aware and able to sense. Unable to move, but probably able to speak:
*'Mother, where are we going? Why are we bleeding? Why are you driving so fast?'*
There was no answer. Could no one hear her? She pondered as she looked around the car to get a sense of the seriousness of the situation. There was a man sitting beside her, looking right back at her with indifferent eyes as if she did not exist.
*'Mommy! Mommy! There is a man starring at me!'*
Silence sustained as the car pulled up a dark path leading to the parking lot by the local graveyard:
*'Woman, your girl is starring at me. I even think I heard her scream.'*
*'Oh don't worry about that. She is always acting out when she dies.'*
An unexpected answer to a rational question made the man question the situation. Who were these people?
*'He is scared now, mommy. Look!'*
The man realized that he had made a mistake. But it was too late, the car had already parked. The woman and the girl sat upright in silence without moving, and was it not for the black bird singing outside the window, he would have kept his eyes on them.
*'Hello?'*
The man said as the trunk of the car was opened, and in the rearview mirror he saw the girl and the woman standing with a crate of beer.
*'What are you waiting for? Come on out grab a beer! We want to thank you for your help'* | 2018-09-17T06:59:53 | 2018-09-17T05:59:56 | 77 | 11 |
[WP] You have lived for millennia, and have always considered your immortality a blessing, but then the year 1914 came. |
2342, That is how many years I have lived on this Earth, each day I woke up as spry as the last, and although I have lived through hard times, and have lost loved ones in my life, but after the first few times I began to understand that they lived full lives, and that I perhaps added some enjoyment to it.
When war was declared on Germany in July of 1914 I knew it wouldn’t be long before Britain got involved, and when it did I signed up immediately, because I wanted to serve my country and with no risk to my own health it seemed like a good idea at the time, and it would give me a chance to travel, and meet new people, so at the time it seemed like a no brainer.
First day I met a boy named Samuel, he was a slinky, pale lad that could barely hold his rifle, but he had a fire in him, and always had a smile. All he could talk about was how he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become an Officer in the British Army! Even though he had a rough time in training, Samuel always saw the brighter side of things, and before he, and I knew it we were being shipped off to Belgium, where we will spend the next few years in something worse than hell.
The fields of Belgium were already a hellscape when we got there. A land of mud, and twisted steel, a fitting setting for the industrialized killing that took place there, and while even I wavered in the face of the new, and creative ways man was killing man, Samuel would talk about he was going to be an officer, and that when he did I will never have to clean another latrine ever again! When I eventually retorted “Yea, that is if you live through today!” Samuel would respond “Aren’t we immortal until proven otherwise!”, although I doubt he knew the real reason I chuckled in response.
I remember that chilly morning, Samuel and I were talking over breakfast, about home mostly, and over the sizzle of the fire, we heard it, a whistle! Samuel and I immediately started scrambling for cover, but then we started hearing thumps followed by the words that everyone in the trench feared. GAS! GAS! Came echoing through the lines, and I began reaching for a mask that wasn’t there, I frantically started searching for it on the ground when suddenly a wave of greenish yellow comes crashing over me. My eyes, skin, and lungs felt aflame, I lay there flailing in agony when I blackout. I woke up to the sound of gunfire, and a man shaking me awake, when I go to rub my face I find that I am being impeded, it is a gas mask, I start looking around, then I see Samuel, lying still on the ground. I crawl over to him, and attempt to shake him awake, but to no avail. He wasted his life in an attempt to save mine.
I learned that day that war has different ways of killing people.
| Millennia ago, when an obviously irate warrior stabbed my clan leader in the back, I couldn't have cared one way or the other. That's exactly how I felt about the Archduke at first. I realized, though, that there was a mess of alliances floating around forcing everyone to declare war on each other. I facepalmed a little, but at least I got to see some action again after all these years.
There was lots of propaganda floating around about how German soldiers were eating babies in the cities, yada yada yada. I bet German newspapers were accusing Frenchmen of the same thing. Personally, it came off as a bunch of "been there, done that" to me.
Then I enlisted in the French army. The weapons were the first sign that all was not well. You know how a bow will always fire a projectile if you go through the motions? Not so with that dolled-up arquebus they call the "Chauchat". The piece of shit jams if you so much as look at it funny, and if you happen to have wanked last night it'll even explode in your face--and before you ask, yes, that's exactly what happened to me in week one, under those exact circumstances!
Even that didn't tell me the full story. When these fancy-schmancy automatics actually worked, they had a nasty tendency to instakill everyone charging your trench, strengthening everyone's theory that generals' minds hadn't caught up with inventors' minds.
I tallied every last death and debilitation in my original company. 36 died and 20 were wounded by cannon shrapnel. There were 3 deaths and 6 debilitations from chemical agents. Enemy snipers must have taken their one-shot one-kill policy deadly seriously. They polished off 13 people with no others wounded. After my transfer, I got bored of it. The same shtick was going on with the new regiment.
The worst part? Someone shot my mask off during one chlorine attack. My face was seriously fucked up.
Okay, I lied. That wasn't even the worst part. The victors mis-blamed one country for everything and frankly, they got what they deserved for it later down the line--but that's another story for another WP. | 2016-10-23T20:06:51 | 2016-10-23T18:04:51 | 35 | 14 |
[WP] It's always God and the Devil, Yin and Yang, Good and Evil, blah, blah, blah. This endless dichotomy. But no one ever talks about the middleman—Hank. He's doing a fine job. | Hank was sitting in a dingy cafe sipping the last of his coffee. He drained the rest of the brew, then began to idly inspect the various levels of rings that previous generations of coffee aficionados had left behind. He was wondering if he could count the rings and find the age of the cup when his pocket buzzed. He sighed, and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. A message in all caps awaited him. "GET OVER HERE NOW, GOD IS PULLING SOME SHIT". Shaking his head, Hank pulled a few dollars and change out of his pocket, and left it on the counter. He left a nice tip, because he wasn't a dick, and besides, he enjoyed the jingle of coins on tables. He walked out of the door and appeared halfway across the world.
Hank appeared in a small village, obviously in the middle of some sort of celebration. Quickly, a man in a red leather trenchcoat walked up to him. He didn't look pleased. "Hey Hank," he said as he approached. "What took you so long?" Hank rolled his eyes, then responded, "Fill me in on what's going on." "Isn't it obvious?" said the man in red. He swept his hand across the revelers. "God stopped by here to get some local cuisine, and he 'accidentally' left some sign of his. Man, I get so tired of his bullshit. No matter how many times we go over the rules, he still tries to insert these little miracles here and there when he thinks I'm not watching. Fucking cheater." The man in red cleared his throat and spit onto the ground.
Hank looked around. It DID look like a miracle had occurred here... all the signs matched up. "Alright Lou, I'll sort it out... just calm down." He took his cell phone out of his pocket, and before he could even dial, it began to ring. The man in red laughed, "Like that's gonna save him. Too late." Hank answered the phone, and proceeded to listen to the man on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, but... look, I don't care if they make the best dish in the world here, you just can't... ok ok... right, that's fine. Sounds good." Hank shoved the phone back in his pocket.
"Well?" said the man in the red. Hank turned to him and said, "He said that in exchange, he promises he'll be hands off next time you get one of your minions elected." He studied the man in red, regarding him inquisitively. "Is this acceptable? Or would you like to go to arbitration?"
The man in red grunted, and shrugged. "Bah, I have enough paperwork to deal with. I accept the terms... this time." He shook hands with Hank, then added, "Thanks for the quick response Hank. You want me to get you anything? A drink maybe?" He smiled slyly.
Hank determinedly declined the offer. "Thanks but no thanks Lou. Maybe next time." And with that, Hank disappeared. | Hank Wu was an accountant. He wasn't very good at his job. He almost always missed a zero someqhere or forgot to add on 2 percent or subtract another 5. That wasn't Hank's job though. No, his job was to answer a phone everyday. He would answer, listen, and then go about his day. Sometimes it was Hank's wife. Other times it was God. Every other timen it was someone else. Most times though, it was a robotic telemarketer telling him how much money could be saved by switching to a new insurance company.
Hank always hung up on the robots.
For lunch, Hank would always go out to this little cafe for a bagel and some cream cheese with a small coffee. The cafe would sponsor cancer awareness or some sort of charity. He never donated, though he always left a penny in the dish for someone else to use. Hank always had exactly one penny leftover in change.
After lunch, Hank would go back to work, hanging up on robots, almost getting the grand total profits right before heading home to his wife.
Hank's wife was much like a librarian. Very quiet, didn't smile too much, and wore the kind of sharp looking spectacles much akin to slivers of glass stuck onto some plastic that had a gaudy strap around it. Hank loved his wife. She was quiet.
For dinner, they either had meatloaf or chicken with a lump of mashed potatoes, gravy and peas. After dinner, Hank would watch the news while his wife read a romantic novel. She didnxt read them for the story. She read them because she had a penchant for pointing out spelling mistakes.
The two would go to bed in separate beds. Hank and his wife agreed that sharing a bed was nice, but it was much easier to sleep in their own beds.
The next day, Hank would get ready for work, have a coffee for breakfast and so on and so forth.
... ... oh! I forgot to mention one thing! Whenever Hank would answer the phone at work, he never said "hello" or "hi" or "Weston's Firm. Hank speaking, how may I help you?"
He always answered with, "Someone loves you." Yes, even to god, even to his wife, and even to those dumb little robots.
Hank Wu was neither good, nor bad. He was harmless. And being harmless is ok. | 2018-04-09T01:16:41 | 2018-04-09T00:21:36 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | The Devil's face told you everything you needed to know at that moment. His clap was sardonic and so incredibly sad.
"How, how the hell did you end up here...in Hell?"
"Well, you know I just made a few mistakes. Wasn't really paying attention and I let a few things get out of hand."
"Yeah, but you of all people. Seriously, bro. How?"
"Well, it started out as not really focusing for a while, thinking people in charge would know what they were doing. Basically, a serious of dominos that just fell and once I woke up from my rest things had gone to shit."
"Yep, but you 'know everything' are 'all powerful'. You're the one that kicked me out. How does God end up in Hell?"
"Long story short, I made these giant lizards, then got a little drunk killed them off. Created these human things, let them have free will, then they started killing each other like it was their job. So, since I wrote the rules about how to be a good person and I'm responsible for the death of entire species and I've let millions of people die it's time for me to punish myself."
"So, I'm in charge now?"
"Not really, I'm still the boss, you're more like the care taker. Also, Mike and Gabe will still be around to keep you here and kick your ass periodically. Just don't let the humies finally finish each other off. Create some collective enemy for them. Hey, there's a use for my giant lizards."
"You're still drunk aren't you."
"Maybe..." | All you had to do was opt out. Jesus literally created the loophole that let no one have to be here. The old testament patch was broken as fuck, too one sided. This new testament update features an "opt out" of hell button. And i choose not to press it out of curiosity. Hell is kinda neat tho. There is thiz cool guy satana~. And his neat music group consisting of himself. He must be so lonely that he is tryna impress me. I wonder how many people came and went.
I think ill help him make this place hot. I mean attractive. I know what people want. We wanna sin, i bet heaven wont let anyone do that. Ill tell him to use this to his advantage, to spread the word. This will get people to come.
I hope he has fun now. | 2017-06-22T07:09:26 | 2017-06-22T04:28:05 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] To your surprise, a SWAT team breaks down your door, rushes inside, and surrounds you. Only, their backs are to you, guns trained on the doors and windows. The closest one whispers, "Here they come." | Black clad and armed, the team of men that had suddenly intruded on what was otherwise a quiet meal for one remained silent, awaiting further instruction from their captain. Red dots paced slowly across closed blinds and the back door which led to the kitchen where Dave was sat.
He had barely any time to chew what cheap noodles he had just shoveled into his mouth before this congregation of bullet proof vests and submachine guns had burst into his home. Their heavy footsteps had become little more than a tiptoe once they had securely entered Dave's property.
"Excu-" Dave began before he was cut short by the SWAT member who had took position behind him, placing a gloved hand over his mouth. The man leaned in to whisper.
"Sir, I strongly advise you get under the table and await further instruction." He whispered, slowly taking his hand away from Dave's mouth.
With blind compliance, Dave proceeded to push his chair back and get on his knees to crawl under the table in front of him, a cheap dining table which had never been used for cover before, suprisingly.
The timing of the officer's instruction couldn't have been better as Dave's quiet Sunday dinner faced further interruption. His windows burst and his blinds danced wildly as they were riddled with identical holes from the gunfire outside. Shattered glass and splintered wood from the window frames began to litter Dave's kitchen floor, and that wasn't all.
The team of men in his home had little time to react, and within the first few seconds of chaos, Dave was joined on his floor by two of the officers, one of which was unfortunate enough to catch a bullet in the visor of his helmet, leaving a bullet hole where his left eye used to be, which was now vacant and filling his helmet with blood. The second appeared to have better luck as he was on the floor next to Dave clutching at his left arm, his mask obscuring a pained look on his face.
The rest of the team had immediately returned fire, with more uniform precision than the attackers who had simply redecorated Dave's kitchen with a series of burst fire. The identical intruders took up tactical positions around the kitchen, taking trained shots of their automatic weapons through the clearings in the torn blinds. The gunfire echoed throughout the kitchen, and Dave couldn't even form an opinion of the situation over the deafening and deadly exchange.
Three members of the team remained as the shots ceased. A suspicious silence crept over the scene, and the man who Dave assumed to be captain made a series of hand gestures, the final of which was directed to the hall which led into the rear garden of his home. An officer approached the back of the kitchen wall which made the corner of the hallway leading to the back, reconfirming his grip on his rifle before he breached the corner.
His actions were cut short as one of the previously unseen assailants was waiting for the opportunity the SWAT team had kindly provided. The attacker closed the gap between him and the officer, sinking a large knife in his throat, right under the jawline. The officer fired in a panic, reinstating the previous soundtrack of violence that had only recently receded. The captain who gave the order raised his rifle and wasted no time in taking a single shot. The bullet entered above the assailants right eye and left a neat crimson hole, which left a trail of blood falling onto his brow. Dave, still under his kitchen table, observed that the exit wound must have been much larger judging by the poor Jackson Pollock imitation that had decorated his hall.
The officer who had tried to turn corner stumbled back into the kitchen, he had dropped his rifle to place both hands around his throat, and the heavy flow of blood made itself apparent by seeping through his fingers. The gurgling that had replaced his ability to speak ceased itself once he hit the kitchen floor, and the blood escaping from his throat pooled on the kitchen floor, its edges racing towards Dave, forcing him to scramble back into the door of one of his cupboards.
The captain and his remaining subordinate seemed surprisingly serene about the turn of events, and after a few moments of this sombre silence, a message, incoherent to Dave, blared from the radio positioned on the captain's left shoulder.
"Witness is secure, over." The captain returned, and walked over to a rather shaken Dave.
"Witness?" Dave feebly asked, not even nearly prepared to understand the situation he had been forced into.
After a while, another uniformed officer, not of the original five, entered the kitchen where the captain had now sat Dave back at his table. He looked intently at the bewildered resident before pulling his mask down, revealing a similarly confused expression. Turning to his captain, he explained his shock.
"Sir, that's not the witness." He explained, beads of sweat gathering on his brow.
"Well then who the fuck is it?!" The captain roared, taking a step towards his officer, gripping his ballistics vest. The officers reply was short and timid.
"Sir... that's Dave." | The men stormed into my room unannounced just as I was preparing for bed. Dressed in full tactical gear, rifles pointed at my room's exit. The only SWAT teams that I ever saw were in movies and games, definitely not in real life. After all, what business does a perfectly normal guy have with a team trained for combat?
I tapped the officer nearest to me, wanting to know what was going on. He simply put his finger over my lip and whispered, "Here they come."
The windows broke as soon as he finished his sentence, raining the broken shards down on us. For someone who has never been in any adrenaline inducing situation before, naturally I screamed in shock. But the SWAT team members were ready. One shouted "Fire at will" amidst the sound of glass shattering and my whole room was lighted up.
At first I could not see what the officers were shooting at, there were only bright flashes, mixed with loud curses and gunfire, but after a while, I could spot them coming through the door and window. Black creatures that moved incredibly fast. The officers were firing blindly at them. Most bullets found their marks and the creatures howled in agony when they were shot, disintegrating into thin air shortly after.
Some of the creatures, it was like they moved together with the shadows, managed to drag the SWAT team members who were closest to the exit out. The unlucky officers tried to free themselves, their teammates tried too, but the creatures moved so fast that I could only hear their terrified screams as they were dragged out.
In what felt like hours, the SWAT officers that surrounded me began thinning, as the creatures slowly worked their way to the center, picking off any careless officers one by one. The guy who was reloading his gun for example. Or the officer who was too focused on the door he failed to notice two creatures creeping up to him from his back.
The officer who was beside me kept cursing non-step, yelling expletives at the creatures and instructions to his remaining squad as the fight dragged on. Even though his face was mostly covered, I could see the terror in his eyes as the creatures wore his squad down. He was certain that we were all going to die. Looking at the relentless swarm, I did not doubt him too. My hand gripped his vest.
Just when I wondered how much longer the fight would last, a bright light enveloped the house, which caused the creatures to scream and beat a hasty retreat. They disappeared just like how they appeared, leaving me and what remained of the SWAT team alone in what used to be my room. Bullet holes and scorch marks lined the walls, along with splatters of blood.
"About bloody time," the officer nearest to me said, as he pulled off his mask. Several of his men collapsed unto the floor, exhausted.
I was about to ask the officer what was going on but a voice from my doorway interrupted me. "Good job, Officer Lewin, at holding off the bugs." The man, dressed neatly in a suit, turned to me. "And protecting Mr Luke."
Officer Lewin, however, spat at the man, who seemed the least fazed. "Good job, my man? I've lost good men today, all because of your theory." He pointed to me. "This bugger better be worth it." Without even saying anything else, Lewin stormed out of the room and his officers followed.
The man in suit, balding with a streaks of grey hair around his head, smiled at me. "I must apologize for Officer's Lewin behaviour. He has had a long day, all of us did. But at least for now, we can rest." He extended his hand to me. "Welcome to the resistance, Luke."
I gulped. Just hours ago, I was a minimum wage worker who has hobby of writing stories on Reddit, with a dream of one day making it big. How did I move from that to being part of a Resistance, cliche as it sounds?
The man seemed to read my thoughts, as he answered: "Not everything needs to have an answer, young man. You'll come to see that soon enough."
His hand caught mine, and pulled me out of my room.
-------------------
*Customary self promotion > /r/dori_tales*
*Edit: Part 2 down below* | 2017-06-28T07:10:15 | 2017-06-28T05:47:37 | 3,288 | 598 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | It's a classic tale, old as time. Boy meets girl.
Girl kidnaps boy.
Girl is a supervillain. Boy is a superhero on a night out.
Mindblade just wanted to relax, have a drink at his favorite bar, meet with his friends. His usual night off duty when he can drop the guard and have a taste of the normal.
She sat next to him, ordered a whisky, downed it as if trying to gather courage for something and snapped her fingers. The bartender froze, his stare empty. Bar went quiet as everybody else also probably froze. Then she slid next to him, getting ready to catch him as if he was about to fall, and looked deeply into his eyes. So, he dropped like a good unpowered civilian he was pretending to be.
Of course he didn't recognize her as Morning Star. He probably wouldn't have even if he was Sharp at the time. Nobody knew what she looked like – or even that she was a woman – and superpowers-wise she was impossible to detect, it was her whole thing. Unseen by default, blinding all the senses, equipment and detection superpowers when she wanted. Though he never had the chance to try to Cut through her defenses.
Until now, that is. Except doing so would reveal himself; he was busy pretending to be affected by whatever she used on him.
She was flying with him slung over her shoulder. He couldn't fly himself, so he had the rare opportunity to see the city lights from above. And also her legs. And her back in her backless dress that he was now sure was held up by superpowers. And also very shapely area between her back and legs.
City sure looked stunning.
\*\*\*
Mindblade pretented to wake up.
He hoped it was appropriate time. He couldn't read her mind, after all.
It was... new. It put him on the edge. A bit.
He heard her nervous voice: "Oh, hey! I hope I didn't overdo it. Can you see me? Is your vision blurry?"
Razor sharp. Diamond cut diamond, it seems. He needed to play along.
"What...? Who...? Where...?"
"Well... How do I say this?"
Morning Star was fiddling with her hands as if she was a teenager trying to ask her crush out. What an absurd idea-
"I wanted to ask you out..."
What.
"...but I don't do well with crowds. And people. And..." she trailed off. "And I got us a dinner? That is, if you want to…?”
He didn’t have to pretend to make a blank stare. Generally, the consensus was to not bother with Morning Star, as they – as \*she\* – never harmed anyone and was pretty much a gentleman – gentle…lady? – thief that only stole from corporations that nobody would cry over and dabbled in some eco-activism. They wouldn’t even know her handle if it wasn’t for that.
Sure, she did blow up that one coal powerplant… or was it two?... But privately heroes were split on that. For example, One Rock was overjoyed and he was all over the whole thing because now the government was forced to accept his clean energy technology. Some were even saying that they should follow in her footsteps and make a real change. Mindblade himself wasn’t sure where he was standing on that.
Right now, he was sure he was silent too long.
“…or you can leave, if you want. I can fly you back, you know…” she said.
“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot… a lot at once to take in. I… I guess I’m up for the food?”
Her eyes light up. They were like stars. Appropriate, he thought.
“Just the food?” she teased.
Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. Play it cool, man!
“Well, maybe also dessert?”
Bravo. There goes his trademark sharp wit. By the end of it he’ll be babbling.
\*\*\*
Mindblade was drowning in her eyes. Everything was going well.
Until Morning Star served the meat.
And, without thinking, all the brainpower focused on making the conversation, he Cut. It was as natural as breathing, after all these years. He still was making the motions to keep up appearances, but why rely on the imperfect edge of a simple metal if his mind was infinitely more sharp?
All happened instantly. Alarm went off. Her eyes widened. And then everything was bright.
“Wait!” he yelled. When his vision came back, he was alone. He reached out with his mind but found only emptiness.
“I’m not attacking! I just forgot myself!”
“You’re… a superhuman.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
He hesitated. “I…”
“Oh, for colorless lights, you’re a plant. To figure out where my hideout is. They’re coming for me. I must-“
“No, wait! It’s not like that! Wait...”
“You’re stalling. Goodbye.”
He dropped to his knees, and raised his arms.
“I swear: it’s a coincidence! There’s nobody coming.”
“And why should I believe you?”
Truth, his last defense.“If I wanted to, I would have carved myself out from this mountain. I’m… I’m Mindblade.”
Silence. Then, finally, when he almost believed she left:
“So why haven’t you?”
“There was this dessert we talked about…”
She materialized right in front of him. Smiling that beautiful smile.
“I’m John, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, John. I’m Lucy”. | Avarok the Great looked out of from the cage with a look that would have told annoyance if on a human face. The dragon’s eyes narrowed at the small table positioned well within the range of his breath, and he found the servants rushing cleaning confusing. After six thousand years of life, he never heard of anyone holding a feast in a dungeon. His claws began to tap against the stone in a steady rhyme that grew more chaotic as his mood worsened.
“Forgive me, oh Avarok!” The Dark Lady of the Black Sun glided down the stairs as if a princess ready for their ball. She appeared mostly human with pale skin and obsidian hair, yet the twin burning coals that served as eyes gave away demonic origins. Her dressed seemed inappropriate for the setting with a cut that left little to imagination. “Do tell me if my sorcerers were too rough in collecting you. I gave clear instructions that only non-harmful magic was to be used in securing your presence.”
Avarok released a puff of smoke to conceal his amusement. “I came without a fight, so spare your minions.” He focused on the trays of meat being carried to the table. “You’ve done it all wrong.”
The Dark Lady raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“All of this,” he gestured with a claw. “I thought dragons were supposed to kidnap maidens.”
“True,” she said after a moment of thought. “However, we both know that the famed Guardian of the Riverlands wouldn’t even dream of seizing someone against their will.”
Avarok raised to display the building heat around his throat. The dumbest of men knew the doom that brewed deep within a dragon, and the bars of the cage offered little resistance. “You’re right. I do not take prisoners from the servants of shadow. Release me, or I’ll eat you.”
The Dark Lady of the Black Sun, responsible for the enslavement of the elves and destructions of the Deep Ones, looked away to conceal a massive blush. She tried to stutter a few words but ended up even more flustered. Her servants finished preparing the table and rushed out of the chamber to avoid being caught in the clash of demigods.
“I fail to see the appeal of being eaten.” Avarok looked at the blushing woman then at the table. “Wait a moment…don’t tell me.” He felt the fire slither back down his throat. Everything fell into place.
The Dark Lady composed herself after a small cough and took a seat at the table. “I have requested your presence for a simple dinner and conversation to better understand what makes you that defender of the mortals.” She poured a glass of wine into two cups. “Wine?”
Avarok stared at the demonic overlord…overlady…with an expression unknowable by any creature that had not lived over a thousand years. His life saw plenty of wars, adventures, political plots, and enough plot twists to keep a mediocre writer successful. Nothing surprised him after the third millennium of life, and he welcomed many more with the comfort of always being in the know. Yet, he stood in a flimsy metal cage being asked on a date by a woman that stood for everything he did not.
All irritation melted away in a storm of laughter that shook the foundations of the castle. His wings folded out fully and knocked the cage down as if the bars were made of paper. He tried to stop the laughter but found more humor in the situation. No one, mortal or immortal, dared to ask him on a date without wanting something from him. He knew, eventually, someone would want to genuinely get to know him. Never did he suspect that a demon, let alone the Dark Lady of the Black Sun, would be the one that desire him.
“I take that as a ‘no.” Her lips thinned into a pointed line that failed to hide the building hurt and wrath. “You may stop laughing and leave this land.”
“I did not say ‘no’.” Avarok stepped forward and lowered himself to the floor, shrinking in size to be somewhat be less threatening. “Just surprised. I accept your invitation but request something non-acholic. My kind do not partake in the holiest of spirits.”
As the Dark Lady called a servant to fetch a bottle of juice from the kitchens, the dragon examined his foe in a new light. Perhaps, he mused, not all things of the shadow deserved ill reputation. The long years taught him much and gave valuable experience, yet such a gift blinded even the wise.
Avarok pierced a slab of beef once the juice arrived and nodded with the Dark Lady. The conversation seemed forced at first but soon found a pleasant pattern that built as the hours passed. He thought about changing into a roughly humanoid shape to make things easier but decided against it.
Both of them needed to earn that privilege. | 2021-10-21T18:13:38 | 2021-10-21T17:58:14 | 65 | 16 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | “Absolutely incredible”, Alida said, mouth half full.
Setventedian shield technology was impenetrable, but the humans cut through it like butter.
They watched the events on repeat, scaling in on a different Earth vessel each time. Only three arrived to fight the Setventedian armada but that proved to be enough.
Alida provided Earth with FTL technology the equivalent of six Earth months prior. In that short time they built a unique drive and weapon system capable of penetrating the strongest barriers known to any species.
“How do the Earthlings do it?” They took another bite.
Micro-Jump Drives. Femtosecond Detachment Hooks. And rocks. Lots of rocks.
Jump 100 meters. Release rock mid-jump. Exit FTL. Reset vector. Repeat.
Setventedian ships fractured and spiraled so violently that the debris became more deadly to surrounding vessels than the Earth rocks.
“This is beyond anything I could have expected”, Alida mumbled. They wiped the crumbs onto the floor.
Thirty seconds. A war that darkened two suns, ravaged thirteen systems, sundered forty-two planets, and shattered billions of lives, ended in thirty seconds by a species that had barely a fingertip beyond their own planet.
True to their infamy, the Earthlings were the most frightening species ever encountered.
“I just can’t believe it”, they said, leaning back in their chair.
And then the ships disappeared. Back to Earth no doubt. They spent an hour in the wreckage, gathering who knows what, and vanished into the infinite.
Peace was now upon Alida and her people. Setventa surrendered shortly after the massacre, completely and unconditionally.
Alida’s screen changed to a view of the capital city where a cheering mass had gathered. They watched, happy for the first time in a while. They sat up, took in one hand a piece of bread, in the other a knife, and scooped up some of the delicious, yellow spread gifted to them by Earth.
“I just can’t believe this is not butter.” | As pretty as they are fragile, that's how Asgardians have been described upon First Contact. And they came with a message, that took us a bit while to understand.
"You are our last resort. Save us, and we'll recompense you."
Even with how prideful their language sound to the human ear, the urgency of the request was clear. Worldwide leaders spent only few days bickering about if and how we should uphold the request until the rest of the message have been deciphered.
Asgardians are smart : they packed the schematic as a self unpacking folder, of a couple of files. All in formats commonly used on our old Earth. And with strong data safety !
Some kind of warp engine, was the data scientist who first seen the files's guess. "I just plugged the code into the first computer I had, but I didn't expected it just worked right away !"
So, here I am. Captain of the fleet. Writing my log, on my way to fight what look like Asgardian's mortal enemies.
And I'm not sure if I should feel glad or insulted it seem like an easy fight : our enemies really are space elks. And seem not much smarter or more dangerous than their earthy counterparts.
It is really going to feel like it's hunting season. Is it wrong I'm excited about it ? | 2022-03-31T06:20:25 | 2022-03-31T01:21:40 | 277 | 100 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted] | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | [TW : child abandonment]
[writing on mobile so formatting sucks]
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She giggled, pleased to have made some noise with the phone in her hand. She pressed the screen again.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She didn't understand what the foreign, robotic words meant. She barely understood her mother when she spoke. Babbling softly under her breath, she leaned back against her mother's purse, fiddling with the blue and white tattered blanket under her. She made a face when dirt got on her fingers.
All around her, grass stretched as far as she could see. In the distance, some buildings suggested a city. She wondered what could be going on there. For a moment, she felt a wave of longing for her house, and her bed, and for her mom to pick her up and sing to her.
"Mommy?" she called out, feeling a bubble of fear and despair raise in her. "Mommy!"
She pressed the phone again, feeling somewhat comforted by the voice.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She pressed it again, only to be faced with silence. She stared at it, her red face scrunched in concentration at the black screen. Again and again she pressed it, then she let out a wail and threw the useless phone away. It fell to the ground a few feet away from her.
Her eyes looked around, searching for her mom. She let out another scream of frustration and brought her tiny fists down on her knees.
All that could be heard in that silent field was her sobs, until eventually she tired herself out. The little girl laid on the blanket, clutched a corner in her hand, and fell asleep.
No one would be coming back for her. | 2020-09-12T11:44:42 | 2020-09-12T11:13:13 | 77 | 20 |
[WP] A siren falls in love with a deaf guy. | She liked the river.
Unlike the ocean, the river was sweet, much like its' fish. Sure, at times it all tasted like mud, but that was of little consequence - they all stopped moving the same as soon as she held them long enough.
The constant movement of the river was a slight upset, though. It meant always traveling downstream in her sleep, or constantly fighting the current to stay in place. At times, she'd have to travel upwards all day just to get where she was the day before.
And this morning, she'd hit something unusual: a bridge.
Well, literally. Knocked her head over it in her sleep.
Disgruntled, and after taking out her anger and surprise upon the offending wooden pole by raking her claws across it, she pulled herself to the shore beneath the bridge to rest.
As she sat pruning herself, running her long, bony fingers through the black, damp strands of her hair... Something flew into the water from above.
A fishing line. She'd seen these before.
Looking upwards, she saw a man sitting over the edge of the bridge, pole in hand, basket beside him; an adult judging by his beard, but young judging by the lack of grey in it.
Her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps she'd finally find a new husband.
The last ones broke apart so quickly.
Straightening herself on the pebbles of the shore, she flexed her fins, opening her maw and slowly but determinedly filled her lungs with air.
She began to hum.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
Night fell.
He'd not even noticed.
He'd eventually just gotten up and left.
'Why?', she thought, looking upon her reflection in the water. 'My skin is smoother than my sisters, my scales shine just as bright - and mother was so very proud of my eyes', she mused to herself, inspecting her amphibian skin, dotted by nigh translucent scales, her tail reminiscent of that of an eel, her bulging, yellow eyes... She simply vould not understand.
Was it her teeth?
No, no, she let small fish pick away at the remains of her last husband just a week ago.
Besides, they weren't *that* long.
She wished she could hold her husbands a bit longer than usual. They just broke so easily, like the fish who went still after she held them too long and became food.
Confused and disheartened, she slept beneath her wooden roof.
-------------------------
-------------------------
The next day she woke to noise.
Yelling, of many men, and steps above her.
She crawled outwards from underneath the bridge to see.
Four, five men. Wearing crimson cloaks and hoods, beating up on a man.
*Her* man.
*Her husband.*
The red veil fell upon her vision as she began to sing.
-----------------------
-----------------------
He did not understand what'd just happened.
One moment, the bandits came to prey upon him as usual, wanting a cut of the little money he makes fishing here in no-man's land, lest he lose his house by the bridge - or his life.
The other, they just... Stopped, and walked down the river.
He felt odd, like the day before. Like something'd passed through him, a trembling wave of... Of... He couldn't really say. But whatever it was, it seemed to have saved him.
. . .
The bandits didn't return.
He slowly crawled to the edge, to peek down.
He saw a hand.
It wasn't attached to anything.
Then, someone green and scaly took it.
---------------------
---------------------
She did not get herself a husband in the end.
But it was fine.
This one seemed to enjoy her singing, seeing how he always stayed until the end of the song.
And every time before he went home, he threw down the largest fish he'd caught.
She loved her husband so very much.
She wished she had room for the fish though. So many red men. | *I love to travel! I look just as good in a little black dress and heels as I do in jeans and sneakers! I'm really laid back and looking for a partner in crime to take advantage of everything this city has to offer while living life to the fullest. Of the six things I could never live without, my family is at the top! Swimming at the beach is a close second :)*
She looked at the profile, not wanting to take responsibility for the words written down. Perhaps the websites that she had used to create this weren't quite as useful as she had hoped. Then again, perhaps you can only make a *Tru Luv* profile if you actually believed in true love.
Perhaps this was all a waste of time.
She tapped next on the phone. It took some time to load, the circles dancing eerily in sync with the waves. The screen turned white, displaying a single question.
**"Are you interested in men or women?"**
That was a strange question. Most people would assume that she was interested in men, but there was no real difference between the two. They both danced the same, they both swam the same and they both taste the same. Do humans ask if they prefer male or female pigs?
She chose men. between the two options, it was the closest to the truth. She was more interested in man. A man. The screen flashed again.
**"What do you look for in a man?"**
Fat. Meat. She began to drool. She deleted the words. he had to be smart, focus on the man. His hair as golden as the sea in the morning light. His skin as creamy as the beautiful sand. His eyes, oh his eyes. Eyes so blue that she could see them clearly when he stared at the waves that concealed her. Poseidon may own the oceans, the seas and the rivers, but he would never own those eyes.
She began selecting. Caucasian. Blonde hair. Blue eyes.
**"Please choose a picture!"**
This might be tricky. The websites all agreed, the best pictures were pictures that had a group of women. That would be hard for her. She had already eaten the last people she met. However, if she pressed this button...
The screen flooded with images of young women. Of *a* young woman. The owner of the phone. The siren looked through the photos, looked at the pictures, evaluating each one. Which one would call for him, which one would enrapture him? Which one would sing to him?
There. A group photo. They were singing, the woman was shining. The lights were chaotic but perfect. The colours were messy, but beautiful. The scene was loud, but melodic. This picture sang.
She sent the picture.
The screen flashed again, and informed her that her profile was being set up. She smiled. It felt less like a waste of time now, it had been completed. It may be a long shot, but it was st-
The phone went blank. She swore. Did it work? Did she have a profile? Would he find her, listen to her, search for her?
She sighed. Her stomach rumbled. Good. She was pissed off and hungry. And with any luck, her next meal would have a charger.
| 2017-08-14T00:52:53 | 2017-08-13T15:50:00 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Each child in your village is chosen by a weapon at their coming of age. The deadlier the weapon, the greater the prestige for the family. You've been chosen by the pen. | The red stain spread across the yellow uniform that covered Defur’s chest. I knelt over him, paying no heed to the drops of blood getting on my own uniform. But there was nothing to be done; with one final shudder, Defur died on the street right there in my arms.
The three members of the Order of the Sword stood over him and watched him die without so much as a glimmer of remorse. Their red uniforms were not as visibly stained, which is why they wear red in the first place. But the steel sword in the hand of their leader certainly was; rivulets of Defur’s blood still dripped off the tip and into the gutter. “Keep to your own places, book rats,” he spat at me before turning back toward the tavern entrance.
“I will demand satisfaction!” I shouted after them. “What is your name?”
My threat just provoked a laugh. How could one from the Order of the *Pen* force a member of the *Swords* to apologize? None of my brothers would back me up; scribes were no fighters. So if I actually went through with the threat and showed up at their doorway with a challenge, it would be me versus their entire Order. No one could even remember that last time that someone from the Pens had even mounted a challenge. "Good luck with that,” the Sword leader said over his shoulder. “I’m Lefra. I look forward to the chance to kill you too.” Then he disappeared through the tavern doorway with his brothers. I was left alone in the street with Defur’s body.
------
One week from Defur’s death, I arrived at the Swords guild hall with my demand and nailed it to their front door, as is tradition. As a member of the Order of the Pen, I’d drafted such a demand many times for the other Orders. The Bows, the Spears, the Slings, the Axes… they all had the strength necessary to put forth such a challenge. Generally the Pens were just the ones putting ink to paper to formalize it.
Lefra emerged from the guild hall and tore my note off of the front door. He only glanced at it, not really knowing how to read anyway. But the Swords received more challenges than anyone else, so he knew exactly what it was. Then he looked out over the crowd that had gathered in the plaza. A demand for satisfaction usually draws a good amount of spectators from the other guilds, but this was an unusually large group. “Who issues this challenge?” he asked.
“The Order of the Pen!” I shouted back.
“No, the Order of the Spear!” shouted a man to my right. “You killed Defur, one of our brothers!”
“The Order of the *Bow* issues the challenge!” said another voice from the crowd. “Defur was one of *ours!*”
Voices from a dozen different guilds joined in on the challenge, each demanding satisfaction for the death of Defur. The only thing that they couldn’t quite agree on was which guild the victim had come from.
“He was from the Pens!” Lefra protested.
“That’s not what the letter says,” the leader of the Spears shouted back. He held up a piece of parchment that fluttered in the breeze. Other guilds joined in, each holding up their onw letter with pretty much identical wording. Apparently *someone* had sent letters to all of the other guilds in neighboring towns, informing them that one of their members had been brutally murdered and their support was needed for a demand for satisfaction from the Swords.
“He lied!” Lefra shouted back to them, thrusting an accusing finger directly at me. “He wasn’t from your Orders, he was a *Pen*, I tell you! Just a *reader!* This other one is making up lies!”
“Why don’t I go check the official records?” I suggested. “We Pens record which guild every child is sorted into…” And I’d carefully prepared a number of different logbooks that I could show, each one indicating that Defur had been chosen by the Bows, Spears, etc. Not that any of them could actually *read*, but a few would probably know enough to identify the symbols of their Order.
“You *lying* little *worm*!” Lefra shouted. Without even formally accepting my demand for satisfaction, he whipped the sword out of his scabbard and charged down the steps at me. And before he even made it into the plaza, he was pierced by a dozen arrows, axes, knives, and spears that came flying out of the other Order groups. His charge became a stumbling topple, and he landed in front of me barely clinging to life.
“Told you I’d demand satisfaction,” I whispered as he died.
| My father stood across the room and waggled the tip of Jajni, the Sword of Ages, at me. “I hope you know what a horrible disappointment you are,” he said.
A throwing star whizzed by his left ear, and narrowly missed his head. All eyes turned towards my sister Rubella, and her pile of deadly little blades--the Assinim. “Get off his back, Dad,” she said. “It’s not his fault that he got chosen by a pen.”
“Don’t remind me,” wailed my father. “For a hundred generations, the Gaginir family has participated in our village weapon selection ritual. For a hundred generations, Gaginirs have been chosen by only the most legendary weapons--” Jajni burst into flame, adding drama to his speech. “And this idiot gets chosen by a pen.”
“It’s a very nice pen,” I said. True, Bic was quite beat-up looking. He had some bite marks near the cap where a previous owner had gnawed on him, and he seemed to be running out of ink. But he was lightweight and flexible, and I liked the way he had flown into my hand during the ritual.
Father slumped down into his easy chair and tossed Jajni into its quenching bucket. The room filled with steam. “Maybe if we’re lucky,” he grumbled, “someone will just kill him and take the pen from him.”
Rubella snorted. “Not likely.” I looked at her. “I mean. Um. I means, he’s um...likely to defend himself too well.” She offered me a wan smile. “Come on, Gosh, let’s leave dad to sulk.”
There was a group of five bullies waiting outside our house -- the same guys who I stayed behind after school to help with their homework. The same guys who beat me up anyway.
Banaji, who was my age, but about 8 feet tall and whose mother’s womb had been likened to a forge, led them. He had been chosen by Lilirrj, the legendary white spear of the Elk People. He prodded me in the chest with Lilirrj’s tip, which I had heard never needed sharpening.
“Show pen,” he said. Rhetoric was not Babnji’s strength. Before Lilirrj, he had resolved arguments by just sitting on people until they died.
“No,” I said.
“What?” said Rubella.
Another poke from Lillirj. It was a very nice spear. “Show pen now.”
“No,” I said again.
“Why not,” Rubella hissed.
“Because I don’t want to.”
Bananji began to chant, and the other boys with him picked it up: “Pen! Pen! Pen! Pen! Pen! Pen! Pen! Pen!”
I looked around. Besides Lilirrj, there were quite a few other legendary weapons present: Madelina, the flexible blade of the Women Warriors of Badiml; Mrrp, the garrote of gold; and Mourning, the black sword of demons. I began to see a path.
“Show him the pen,” said Rubella.
I cleared my throat. “I like all your weapons very much,” I said. “You can see my pen now, but come in close.”
They all gathered around.
I shoved Bic into Bananji’s eye and out the side of his temple. Then I stabbed another bully through the heart, pushed Bic into someone else’s neck, jammed him into a femoral artery, and finally pushed him in through someone else’s ear as they screamed.
I stood over the bodies and cleaned Bic off on my pants leg. Rubella ran up and hugged me. “Papa will be so proud!”
“I’m happy,” I told her. "Now, help me pick up these weapons.”
*See [r/robotdevilhands](https://reddit.com/r/robotdevilhands) for more stories.* | 2017-04-10T09:44:43 | 2017-04-10T08:50:57 | 711 | 53 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | Dolkohm crouched on the gutter of the village inn's roof, standing perfectly illuminated by the inn-keeper's window. Many humans gave him a strange look as they passed by, but they were not his business tonight.
There, across the street a dwarf named Branren exited the local dwarvish pub, briefly letting out a cacophony of roaring debauchery and indulgence. Dolkohm's eyes narrowed. The stocky, young dwarf stumbled towards the alley he overlooked. He had chosen his post at the darkest nearby alley wisely, for any normal dwarf would find light abhorrent.
Dolkohm was no normal dwarf.
He crept from window to window, staying illuminated as to avoid detection. Branren was mumbling a bar song about rubies and sapphires and tits as he undid his pants and began to piss on the inn's wall. Dolkohm had made this mistake before. He would wait until the ale-drowned dwarf was finished, lest he whirl about in surprise.
And finish he did, with an unnecessarily loud and contented grunt. He was just buttoning up his trousers when Dolkohm landed behind him with a deep thud. When Branren turned he was greeted with a polished steel goblin mask.
"Branren"
The sodden dwarf turned to run but quickly stumbled and fell on the garbage strewn through the alley. He turned and gasped in horror as Dolkohm deftly avoided the trash. His swift and accurate movements did not match his dwarvish physique.
"Woh-wot do yur want mate?"
"Vengeance"
Branren threw some punches, but Dolkohm merely stepped out of the way. In between the drunk dwarf's lunges, Dolkohm jabbed at his sides until the inflictions caught up with Branren and he flopped onto his arse; breathing too hard for a 20 second fight.
"I tain't done nothin' mate. Yur got the wrong dwarf."
"Last night outside that very pub, you nearly took the eye of Grenmund Flintsbane because he picked up a copper that you swore you 'saw first'. Am I wrong?"
"Moradin's hairy arse", Branren whispered "Yur a dwarf tain'tya? Too strong for a goblin. And too tall. 'Tah sins of tonight are tah songs of t'morrow'? Umm... 'Ifa yur can drown a fight inna pint, it musta not beena strong swimmer'?!" Dolkohm stepped closer. "Ugh, ana... 'an eye for an ale'?"
"It's an eye for an eye." Dolkohm drew a thin dagger and knelt to Branren's level.
"Mate I don't ev'n member that. Neither does Gren! We were just sharin a pint! I asked him bout his eye n' he laughed n' said he didn' hava clue!" Dolkohm gripped the desperate dwarf's throat as he brought the dagger close.
"You do not receive absolution from drowning your crimes in ale, creten" He gripped harder as he lined up the dagger. "Dwarf violence will never stop if there is no punishment. Since there are never any witnesses, punishment must be doled out passively, in the shadows."
Branren was blubbering, "B-b-buh, but."
"Relax," Dolkohm gave a twisted smile, "tomorrow you won't even remember this." | Libash was fishing. He loved to fish, even if other dwarfs would make fun of him for it. In the dwarven society many jobs were considered useless, but fishering work was considered one of the most. At least he did his job well, purging the life out of lakes and rivers in moments. He was able to feed the fortress for centuries, wat would be somewhat valuable if the food stockpiles weren't overflowing by the others crafts already.
But he did his job well, "better than the miners that dig so narrow passages; better than the oversser that designed so much many curves and long corridors in the fortress entrance, making the way down the fortress way longer than necessarie; better than the novice armosmith that was crafting such a poor armor that would make fighter prefer go to battle armorless; better than... oh, the pond is dead, my job here is finished".
Libash went directly to the entrance door, "let the haulers take care of the fish, I doubt there is barrels to spare storing it, it will rot as alwa..." pwe, the arrow went right by his head, he went runing to the door that was now locked. "fuckers let me outside to die" Libash knew that storie well. When a siege aprachs the overseer will make enormous effort to save the brewer, the metalsmith and even the engraver, but did less than look for the fisherdwarf that acctualy had a reason to be outside, even if there is enough time to let him in. He knew better than bash the door and wait for a response, he bolted right for the pond, the animals would distract the invaders and give him enough time to... drink, Libash was tirstie as hell, with no acess to booze he was subject to one more humiliation: to drink water out of the pond. At least it motivate him "I can not die know, water shall not be my last drink" and he drank, and drank and hided and waited. The goblins was now exchanging arrows for bolts with the dwarfs in the towers, the dogs were set loose and were made food for the beak dogs, are newly formed squad was heading outside of the doors, underequipeds and ready to die, "only a distraction" he knew, even if one soldier managed to survive the goblins, nothing would escape the warm bath. And it came, glowing, fast, under the pressure of the most experients pump operators, the gods piss killed everyone and destroyed everything except for the valuable metal armor. And it was done. The siege ended, he could only wait, wait for the magma to evaporate to gain acess to the underworld. It took more water and many raw fishes before he could entry the earth.
to be continued | 2017-12-31T08:10:45 | 2017-12-31T07:55:00 | 76 | 12 |
[WP] An alien general is baffled that their state of the art stealth ships equiped with every signal blocking and camouflage technology their species has to offer keep getting destroyed, at the same time humans discover the ability to see the colour red is apparently extremely rare | King Gelput had ruled over most of the known galaxy for a thousand years, a rule of unrivalled prosperity and peace.
The secret? Intelligence. Know thy enemy, and make them your ally. Find their weaknesses, identify their strengths, and act swiftly to manipulate both to your favour.
Thanks to his people's focus on cloaking technology, they could hide endless numbers of spies, disappear entire fleets of ships, and place innumerable tracking stations wherever they saw fit.
Force, when needed, was always brief. After all, how could anyone defend against *ghosts?*
It had been perfect. Until the Humans arrived. The damned bi-pedal abominations with their small little faces and puny technology.
Upon first contact King Gelput had, as always, extended the claw of peace and welcomed them into the Galactic community. It was an honest initiation for a promising race, however ugly they might be, and he had fully intended to help nurture them along with the rest of the beings from their small corner of the universe.
Of course, all the usual precautions were taken. Overlord class ships were sent to their sector to monitor their home planet, to deploy the tracking stations, and to provide a hub for the thousands of spies sent into their midst.
And they had all been destroyed. No signals received. No intelligence to act upon. Only pure and deafening silence.
King Gelput and his council were terrified, and so, when the Humans had declared war they had sought to pacify them, to arrange a meeting and discuss a truce.
A single ship from both sides they had said. King Gelput had agreed.
He brought a thousand, his scientists deploying modification after modification of the cloaking technologies, sure that it could not be the reason of their failure, and if it were, it would be no longer.
The Humans had arrived, a single ship. King Gelput was to teleport to their bridge. Teleport he had, along with hundreds of his cloaked personal to cover each and every crew member of the Humans. The upper hand would be his.
He now stood on the bridge of the ship, the Human crew standing to attention as he loomed over them, resplendent in his deep blues and dazzling greens. With a slight twitch he noted that some of the humans were mildly cloaked, even in their *hair*. What was this?
"King Gelput, we meet again" the man who sat in the large chair at the head of the bridge said, *without* standing. King Gelput did not recognise him, nor should he be expected to.
"I.." he began, but the man signalled with his hand for him to stop. Anger burst through the King's gills as he flushed green. Such imputence!
The man gestured to the screen at the front of the room. King Gelput's hearts retreated into his viscous sack of mucus with an audible 'plop'. There, on the screen, he saw them. All his men on the ship on one side, the other, all the ships that surrounded them now.
Before he could give the signal, before he could even divert his eyes, one by one each of his men fell, and then, in a roar that shook the ship, his entire fleet was wiped from existence in a cataclysmic explosion.
His mind failing and confused by desperation, he darted for the man, grabbing his arm with his fore claws. The man grimaced painfully, but as King Gelput looked down at his limb, fear tore through him.
*They don't even bleed.*
A splitting pain exploded into his side as his vision went dark, and sound faded away.
r/fatdragon :) | “What do you mean, *they took out the whole fleet?*”
General Bak-Naz looked at Captain Jien-Hof with a death glare that could pierce the shields of the Shirn Gri 4.
Jien-Hof took a deep breath. “Our fleet of stealth ships were ready for the strike. We triple checked all our signal blockers, scan disrupters, everything.”
Bak-Naz’s stare didn’t shift. “Then *how* did they know where you are? Did a chance asteroid hit you? Did one of their ships accidentally ram into you?!?”
“No sir, one of their civilian ships seems to had noticed us. We thought they had turned back after having forgotten something, but I believe they notified their military. My ship was the only one to survive the following engagement.
All this answer did was anger Bak-Naz even further, their tail curling up, worrying Jein-Hof. The General took a couple deep breaths, seeming to calm down. They then slammed their desk with their spindly arms, screeching.
“THE FLEET WAS NOTICED BY A GOD DAMN CIVILIAN SHIP?!? HOW ADVANCED ARE THESE GOD DAMN HAIRLESS SPACE APES?!?”
“Something to note sir is that our spies report they never detected us on their scanners.”
This made the General perk up. “*What?*” The General looked at the Captain at this information. “Then how the hell did they notice us?”
Jien-Hof shifted in place, staring down to the right, trying not to look the General in the eyes. “Well... their ships have windows, and none of their scanners went off, so I personally think that they can see Infraorange.”
Bak-Naz’s eyes widened in surprise. “But that’s impossible, everyone knows that only the instectoids of Ziclon 5 are the only intelligent species that can see infraorange, and we have a non-aggression pact with her!”
“If you need more proof sir, all of our elite infraorange spies have been captured, and only them.”
The General looked in disbelief. “Do we have any stealth ships in a color other than infraorange?”
“No sir, you had all the stealth ships painted infraorange so that her majesty it Ziclon 5 would be at ease.”
The General debated a thought for a moment. The space monkey sighed before speaking. “We have but one choice then. Ready the Shirn Gri 4, we will attack their outpost at the edge of the Helix Nebula.”
The human spy painted full red standing in a nearby shadow smiled, not only proving his theory but also finding out where the jungle dwellers are attacking next.
__________________________________________________
Alt ending because I wasn’t satisfied with the original:
The General debated a thought for a moment. The space monkey sighed before speaking. “Put all our ships on defense. Build new stealth ships, painted ultrablue. No way those oversized chimps can see *that* as well.” | 2019-10-18T08:11:47 | 2019-10-18T04:23:03 | 3,177 | 1,531 |
[WP] Demons have finally discovered a way to summon humans and they take great joy in summoning humans to hell to do mundane chores in revenge for humans doing that to them for centuries. | Lorx carefully scratched a seven point star into the ground with his claws, double checking his geometry. Next he put a flag on the first point.
"For your pride!" Lorx chanted.
He placed a watch on the second, "For your envy!"
A cheeseburger for the third, "For your gluttony!"
And so the demon continued until the whole star had different relics on each corner. He consulted his spell book, the human flesh parchment trying to flake out of the book as he read.
"Human of Earth," Lorx read, " I have sacrificed unto thee, may you sacrifice your time unto me? I bid thee answer my call."
Within seconds all the sacrifices around the star began to rot, turn to dust, and disappear. The star began to glow, so bright that Lorx had to look away. Then it was dark again, the only illumination coming from a bone fire and distant lava flows.
"Whoa, this definitely isn't OSHA approved," the human acknowledged.
Lorx chuckled in excitement, startling the human. Hearing a demon chuckle would startle about anyone, it sounds like someone gasping for air, coughing and cackling at the same time.
"Oh hey there," the human looked up at the looming demon, "what can I do you for?"
The demon stared back. The human was dressed up strangely. A hardhat, headlamp, reflective vest, and steel toed boots just to name a few things.
"You seem awfully well prepared." The demon acknowledged.
"Well yeah, I joined a temp agency recently and they provide stuff."
"Temp agency?"
"Yeah, ever since the summonings started happening, people have been capitalizing on it."
Lorx fell silent, he didn't know what to make of it.
"So, what's the job?" The human asked.
"Oh, I just wanted you to suffer a bit for my entertainment, but now I'm curious. Tell me about this temp agency."
"Well I'm already suffering in this heat and I get paid for the hour so I'll be glad to tell you everything and then some."
"Paid? The sacrifices made are destroyed, how are you paid?"
"Oh I'm paid in money for being in the right place at the right time and doing the sort of things to bring me down here whenever a demon gets bored. It almost guarantees that politicians and richtards don't die in hell early."
"Money, that's one of the relics I used, but why do you want it?"
"Look, l'll put this in terms a demon can understand. I get paid to suffer with money. Money represents hours spent suffering. When I want something else. I spend money to buy things made by other humans suffering."
Lorx fell silent again. This wasn't fun anymore. The human before him was tapping his foot expectantly waiting eagerly for something to pass the time.
"You know what?" Lorx said, "Just walk home." | I was sitting on my couch, feet up and watching the news. Another man who’s spirit has gone missing for multiple days when a demon summoned them. They always ask for the most menial tasks to be done, such as wash their loincloths or take the leviathan on a walk. Pretty petty if you ask me. This has been going on for a few months, everyone was fairly used to it. I mean what where puny humans going to do against demons? As I sat there remote control in hand, something tugged in my gut. I wheezed as I was violently yanked through the floor. I saw my body topple to the floor as I winced, it didn’t hurt me, but seeing your unconscious body is not exactly comforting. My spirit was slammed into the hellish earth as I lay there, gasping for breath. A horrible being stood before me, ten feet tall with horns the size of my arms and vicious, serrated teeth. His red skin glowed a bloody crimson as burning eyes of coal stared me down. “James Son of Mathias! You have been summoned to do my bidding!” He cackled, his voice rough and thick. I sighed. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it I knew it I knew it. I hoped it wouldn’t but of course I was summoned. The demon handed me a broom and pointed to what can only be described as a crude patio to the worn down brimstone house they were in. “Sweep.” I sighed and I got to my feet. The demon looked so disappointed at my compliance. Even slouching with a pout. It was almost pathetic. I sighed internally and decided to give him a show. I dramatically threw the broom to the side. “OOOH GREAT DEMON! Grant me pity! For I am just a MERE MORTAL! Not worthy of you presence! Ooooh!” The demon immediately perked up. With a huge smile the demon cried, “YOU WILL OBEY ME HUMAN! FOR I AM THE DEMON ALIZIATH! HAAHAHA!” I pretended to sob as I picked up the broom and began to sweep, trying to get this job over as soon as possible while still giving the demon a good show. | 2020-07-01T17:15:18 | 2020-07-01T16:14:27 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | It’s my first try on these. I’m sorry for my awful writing.
Dave wiped the blood from his blade before the guard even hit the floor. No expression came to his face, he didn’t enjoy killing, but he didn’t hate it either.
His party of four years was made up of good, friendly people. And they’d paid the price for that. Dave didn’t want them to see the person he was, those people had given him what had been stripped of long ago with their righteous dream. And now he would protect that dream of theirs.
Certainly, they needed a cold dose of reality to show them the world wasn’t all black and white. But Dave didn’t want that dose to come from him, not yet at least.
“Y-you psychotic monster! You’ll pay for this!”
“Do you accept cash? Or would an IOU suffice?” The monster hiding within the hero party growled, his bladed tentacles whipping through the man’s body like so much paper.
Dave had already killed his way through the fortress, and gotten the information he needed.
“Just hang on tight kiddos” the grizzled old shapeshifter spoke.
“The demon lord’s gonna regret facing an elder god!” His voice became distorted. Gaining some unknown quantity beyond that of a mortal.
And so Dave, or as those with true power knew him. Azathoth. Continued his rampage through the mortal realms, until he found the king of evil, and ripped him apart at a conceptual level. | 2019-12-07T12:57:33 | 2019-12-07T11:42:59 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] An elderly billionaire has publicized his last will and testament; the person or persons responsible for his murder are to inherit his entire fortune. | If you are watching this video, I’ve been murdered. I also know who did it. But we’ll come to that later. I’m an old man, and I’ve spent my life accumulating wealth. I’ve recorded this video as my last will and testament. Now I’ve set up a number of trusts for charity, and they were distributed during my life. But I still have billions and there are many people that would like to get their hands on it. Mr. Washington, my lawyer, knows what’s on this video and has instructions on how to distribute my wealth.
I’ve made my money in a lot of different businesses and I’ve done it by being ruthless. You know that, and my “friends” and family have been hanging on just to see what they can get in the end. Just like daddy always said: “you’re not at the top unless you’ve stepped on a lot of heads to get there.”
Now my daughters are all sweet, loving and caring. I don’t know where they came from. I guess their momma was nice too, but she could kill when she needed to. No squishy person can handle the wealth and all it entails. The girls’ll give it away or have it stolen before they get to spend it. My daughters get nothing.
My son, on the other hand, could stomp on a head when he had to. Unfortunately he’s always headed the wrong direction. You can’t make money sitting on a surfboard.
My nurse, who has been so loyal these past 20 years. Ever since I was shot in the back she’s been by my side. I know it’s just out of hopes that I’ll give her something in my will. Not a chance. Blind loyalty will get you nothing. You always need to fight for what you want.
As for the rest of the servants, butler, maids, chef and driver. May they rot in hell. Tried to rob me every chance they got. But they failed. I could have respected them if they were actually good at it, but not one of them was.
Friends, and I use that term lightly, don’t get anything either. A bunch of kiss-ass pansies who mostly were given everything they owned. Sure, maybe some of their daddies were good at business but not them. The only one that had any sense was Tom Rosengard. Tom could run a business, mostly cause he learned how to take a bullet in the war. But not one of them deserves a dime of my hard earned cash either.
Only one person is strong enough, cutthroat enough, brave enough to handle it. I earned my money the old fashioned way: I stole it. The only way anyone will get it from me is to steal it. The only way you are watching this video is that you have murdered me and stolen the jump drive I wear around my neck.
So remember this word: “Jitterbug.”
Tell that word to my lawyer and it is all yours.
| I should have listened to Gerry.
Thinking about it, I don't even remember how we ended up becoming friends. A comic book geek and a gang member on a criminal downward spiral aren't exactly a natural fit. I guess I stuck with him because keeping him out of trouble let me feel like I was still one of the good guys, even when I clearly wasn't. But that might just be my cynicism rambling.
Gerry found the news on the net and thought it was an elaborate joke. I did, too, when he messaged me the link. But scanning corners of the net that are a little too dark for guys like Gerry I stumbled upon a growing amount of people claiming that the will was legitimate and that they were looking for collaborators to.. well, essentially go after the bounty.
I have no idea how he got wind of what I had signed up to do, but en route I received mails from Gerry warning me. Writing that it looked like a setup, like a corny movie premise, and so on. He seemed to have trouble phrasing it in a way that didn't sound accusatory, and the outcome was barely intelligible to me. Still, I should have kept in mind that Gerry is a sharp guy, and the only times he has trouble articulating his thoughts are when he's genuinely scared.
Gerry fucking nailed it.
I've been trapped inside this estate for days now. I know at least half the people I came with are dead, and their ends were uglier than anything I've seen or heard before. I've lost count of the number of deathtraps I've come across. I've been separated from the rest. I don't even know if I'm under- or above ground, as I've tumbled into an button- and display-less elevator only to lose consciousness to some kind of gas several times already. I haven't seen a drop of liquid in 30 hours, and if I don't find water soon...
I don't believe I'll make it out of here alive. But I'm also not resigned enough to throw myself into the spike trap behind me just yet. With luck I'll find some water. With luck the old fucker that started this has made this a last-man-standing kind of game. And if my undeserved guardian angel is still watching, I might survive the next trap corridor.... | 2014-07-23T15:23:51 | 2014-07-23T14:56:17 | 287 | 13 |
[WP] The Bermuda Triangle is now close due to maintenance. All intergalactic travelers please visit the nearest Ancient Wonder. For Time travelers, please visit Stonehenge. We apologies for the inconvenience. |
Rob giggled as he hung the sign on a wall by the beach. Someone was sure to get a laugh from another one of his local practical jokes.
He didn’t expect the sudden smack to the back of his head. He fell to the ground, but was quickly hauled up to his feet by the stranger who hit him. A tall man, seven feet to be exact, held Rob with one hand and pulled the sign off the wall with the other. He held the sign close to Rob’s face and said,
“You have no idea the panic you’ve caused. Do this again, and you’ll know how, but not when or where you die.”
Rob fell to the ground as the man walked away with the sign. The man pushed a button on his wrist, and popped out of existence.
Rob pulled a duplicate sign from his coat, and hung it on the other side of the wall.
The following Thursday, Stonehenge disappeared. It would be several years after the complete mapping of the ocean floor before it would be discovered in the Bermuda Triangle.
By all official accounts, Rob was not at fault. The sign that initially lead to the catastrophe was safely stored in a file cabinet. This would be declared a fixed point in time, unavoidable at all costs. The intergalactic death toll was unfathomable, as was the sudden decrease in time travelers born after the year 4039.
Rob’s video of people reacting to the sign received 4039 views on YouTube before his account was deleted due to a copyright claim. | I groaned.
"This is the fourth time this week!"
My mom laughed. "That's what you get for booking your ticket right away."
I glared at her. And she meet me with a glare more terrifying than my own. Ok mom, you win. I thought. But I didnt know what to do.
"May as well call Amy."
I looked for her contact pressing it and hearing her loud voice. "Hey!"
I winced. Jeez she is loud. "Hey there. Can we maybe go to the Stonehenge?"
I heard her laugh and then she said that the Stonehenge is also closed as a child got lost.
Now what?
"Oh!"
"If it's that damn triangle I will kill you then resurrect you to kill you again if you bought a damn ticket."
Silence.
"GET YOUR ASS-"
"IM SORRY-" | 2022-10-13T19:30:57 | 2022-10-13T19:21:17 | 58 | 24 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | **"Those forgetting history is bound to repeat it"**
These words are written above the entrance to the chamber of the great council. We thought we knew everything, but there were so much we forgot.
None of the councils members remembered why the image of a grinning human was chiselled into the chamber walls. The painting was neither good, nor well made. Beneath it was chiselled the words human females tell their children. "Use your words".
No one would deny that the humans where great talkers and mediators. But they were also a soft squishy species. The way they imprinted on their young to use their words where taken as a sign that they were weak and timid. They even punished their children when they were caught fighting.
All this we learned from the small colonies they had among the rest of us. We would learn more too soon.
The way of the council and the accord of the species was that one species could acquire another species place, rank, honour on the council by fighting the other species. This way the council was guaranteed to stay strong and fresh. That species gained planets and colonies, or lost them in these struggles was the norm. Occasionally a species was removed entirely from the council when their entire territory was annihilated.
No species entirely disappeared. After their defeat they were always offered a space in the Alliance. A small ragtag collection of planets and species surrounding the last suspected location of the human home world. Everyone thought of them as zookeepers. Guards of humanity. That they were there to protect the humans. No one gave them any tought as they were out of the way. "Out of sight. Out of Mind". Another humans wording. They have so many.
They were no longer out of mind after discovering huge deposits of rare elements where located in their territory. A short victorious war was planned to prepare for mining. With the added benefit of providing us with free workers.
The Alliance pleaded and begged us to reconsider. Sent us historical files, and copies of signed accords. We ignored them all. The humans tried their talks, but we ignored their calls. We probably should have listened when the Alliance said "We wash our hands of this. We tried warning you.". How we laughed.
We took the first planets easily. Setting up mining operations. Forcing the humans to be our slaves. We thought they were weaklings having trouble operating our equipment, since everything went much slower than we anticipated. Then the breakdown started. Machines breaking. Bridges falling down. Transports failing to launch. Small things. But they happened just too often.
We thought we had rounded up all the humans. When the explosions started we knew we hadn't. We never found where they hid. But they were severely hindering our operations. This happened on every planet we occupied. Even ones previously occupied. Wherever we set up operations, humans found a way to hide and make trouble.
We soon learned another human expression. "Guerrilla warfare".
They even brought this to interstellar space. Small groups, hiding out in spaces no ship should be able to hide, they hit us repeatedly where it hurt. Our shipping lanes, our outposts. Never the same twice in a row. Always gone before our military ships could show up.
Little did we know that this was done to make sure we overspent ourselves trying to protect against small irritants, while they prepared.
When they hit us. As a war faring race we can only admire the beauty in their attack. They were everywhere. Our capitals fell in the first bombardment. The council lay in tatters as we were decimated. And we could do no other action than concede when they entered the council chamber claiming their rightful place at the top. There where no one left that could stop them. The words they uttered when they opened the proceedings shocked us to our cores. Even though we could see the warning every time we entered.
&#x200B;
"We founded this council. We can always reclaim our place. Remember history". | (English is not my first language, sorry if some mistakes are hidding in the text)
\--
&#x200B;
Humans...
&#x200B;
They spread everywhere in less than one of their generation, their oldest ones were already born when they finally managed to get out of their solar system !
Sure thing, they are good at bargaining and negociating, and their trade flourished at a speed no other specie had ever imagined before. Following something they called the "Roman system", they secured roads to the main marketplaces and made sure to be present everytime there was something to buy or sell, and it wasn't long until they were the ones controlling the prices.
They are rich now, but they never fight. They buy their protection from our own money, that they stole from us !
This will change soon now, they crossed a line when they bought our planet.
We took our time to prepare, our weapons are ready, we will attack their next shipment, and use the gold to buy back our main planet. The Galactic Alliance received our claim and will not help us, as we were not attacked, but they at least accepted to close their eyes and stay neutral in the conflict to come.
&#x200B;
\--
&#x200B;
3 days later, in the galactic alliance.
"Sir, the human delegate is asking to meet you."
"Let him in, let him in ! He always have some good propositions for us, i really like their quotes 'win/win scenario' ! "
John Johnson entered, looking unexpectedly tired but his eyes moving everywhere, from the doors to the different people present in the room, as if assessing something.
"Welcome dear guest, did you have a new idea to bring the alliance prosperity ?"
"I am sorry, dear Head of the Galactic Alliance, I only came today with a question, but I am obviously willing to pay for an answer if needed." answered the human gravely
"Don't worry about that, dear John, you provided us so much lately, we can answer at least a small question !"
"Good. Then let's get to the point. We were attacked by the lizard Ctul."
"Ah, yes, i heard about that unfortunate evenement. 2 of your kind were killed in the raid of one of your merchandise tube on 'new road 66', isn't it ? Truly unfortunate indeed ! but what is your question ?"
John locked his gaze on the vaguely humanoid creature in front of him : "Except from the Ctul, who knew about the attack ?"
"Everyone of the Galactif Alliance knew, as the Alliance was paid the standard amount for a minor agression claim on the official journal by the Ctul. This is the protocol !"
"Ah, too bad, i was beggining to like you".
"What ?"
"Good bye, dear Head of the Galactic Alliance, i have a war to win"
"A war? b-but you haven't published anything on the official journal!"
a beam halo surrounded the human for less than a second, and he was gone. During this time, the Head of the Galactic Alliance heard two words, spoken with a robotic voice, that sent a chill down his spine.
&#x200B;
"TARGET AQUIRED"
&#x200B;
Then the sirens started shouting. | 2019-04-19T08:22:28 | 2019-04-19T02:24:03 | 47 | 16 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
| Frankie,
Once, you told me that one of the moments that sticks out in your mind is driving in the car with me. I remember that, too; just the two of us, somewhere on Route 64, headed back from Taos. I can still close my eyes and be right there in the passenger seat; I can see our intertwined fingers and the white paracord bracelet hanging from your wrist, lit up occasionally by the headlights of a passing car. It's the same paracord bracelet Gene made for us at Philips Junction, the morning after we woke up on the cabin roof, covered in dew. It's the same paracord bracelet I noticed you wearing in your pictures for years after we last saw each other.
I still have that damn bracelet, somehow. Incidentally, I came across it the other day. I picked it up and ran it through my fingers, and instantly it brought me right back to being in the car with you. I always held on to the idea that we'd run into each other *somehow*... no matter how improbable it was. But it has been years now, and we've never even been in the same state.
I really, truly was head over heels in love with you, and I was in love with you in a way that I don't think I could ever be again. I think I had such a hard time letting go because there was never a definite goodbye; we kissed each other one last time and promised to see each other again next summer, but you never came back. For years, it broke my heart every time I heard a banjo, because all I could hear was you picking away on the porch swing. But finally, I'm at a point where I don't think about you all the time. Finally, I'm at a point where I can stick by bare hand into the cold ashes and really feel that it's over.
And the thing about ashes is that you can use them as fertilizer.
You taught me so much about love - *real love*, without jealousy or petty games. I think the version of me from that summer will always be in love with that version of you, but the truth is, neither of us are those people anymore. So now, I'm stepping forward and enriching my life and all of my relationships with the love you taught me I could hold.
Always,
wheezystevie | 2015-12-05T16:37:50 | 2015-12-05T15:04:15 | 94 | 15 |
[WP] "Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!" The alien took a deep breath. "We are cute to them." "What?" | "This world is full of Xenos, Inquisitor, the only option can be a complete extermination of this filth.
"Well...hold on now," Inquisitor McConnell said nervously, a bead of sweat trailing down his nose. "They...look sort of human. They must be abhumans."
The adjutant shook his head. "No sir, the data I've received from our scouts confirms it. This is nothing but an example of convergent evolution, a pale imitation of the perfect human form."
"Much has been lost..." the Inquisitor offered weakly. "I mean, look at them."
He made a gesture and a still hologram of a beautiful young woman appeared in the air between the two men. Full lips, long flowing hair, half-lidded eyes and a body that would set a thousand ships upon the stars - only two problems. The fluffy ears upon her head, and a long feline tail.
"Yes," the adjutant growled. "This must be a trick to test our faith. But the data confirms; they are not abhuman. They are not, in fact, human at all."
Inquisitor Carlos McConnell sighed as he set heavily in his chair. "Commandant Richter's scouts? They're certain?"
"Completely, sir," the adjutant nodded. "We have a full fossil record. I came to you the second I was sure."
"The second...?" the Inquisitor mumbled, as if mulling something over. "I see. Well. No help for it. Order the exterminatus."
"Yes sir!" the adjutant said grinning, saluting and turning an about face. He made it three steps before the las-pistol tore his skull out.
"Terrible thing about all that heresy in the scout corps," the Inquisitor mumbled, pressing a switch under his desk to reveal a hidden compartment. With fumbling fingers he pulled a worn tome, an ancient family relic. The images on the front were faded by time, but it only left more to the imagination.
He stroked his fingers along the ancient surface, carrying the book with him as he walked to the viewscreen to loom over the verdant world below. "I'll give you my name," he mumbled. "As good a name as any. Carlos McConnell."
He held up the title and read the words to himself slowly and solemnly, in the ancient tongue of his ancestors. "Super Kawaii Sexy Catgirl Funtime."
The Emperor would understand, he thought.
The Emperor would understand. | "That would be suicide!", meowed Fluffy
"It's our only chance for survival, it is necessary!", hissed Tigger
The other cats only watched, wondering what their commanders would decide.
"Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!", meowed Fluffy, "why would they possibly take mercy on us?"
"We are cute to them", purred Tigger.
The soldier cats' eyes grew, pupils expanding in amazement.
"We are soldiers damnit!", hissed Fluffy violently, "I would rather die than be taken as a pet by those.. animals".
Tigger licked his paw.
"A single death would be a blessing", meowed Tigger with conviction, "But these humans will take all our lives, 9 deaths for each of us"
Fluffy stretched and yawned.
"I'll have to sleep on this", meowed Fluffy as he took a quick nap.
&nbsp;
The commanders and their soldiers reconvened 15 minutes later, with their tails raised in mutual respect.
"I have considered your purrs carefully, Commander Tigger", meowed Fluffy.
"After deliberation with weapons expert Captain Bubbles, it seems even our most advanced water squirt guns will be ineffective during combat. I'm afraid we have no other option. Tomorrow, we will wave the white flag, and hope our enemy does not start clawing at it."
"We will prepare a handbook for your new lives as pets, to maximize your chance for survival", meowed Tigger to the soldiers, "make sure to read it before your capture, it will contain detailed instructions on how to get close to your new master and gain the most snuggles."
&nbsp;
-----
&nbsp;
Thanks for reading! I am actively looking for feedback, so I would absolutely love to hear anything and everything you have to say about my story :D
Cheers! | 2017-12-19T07:42:03 | 2017-12-19T07:20:46 | 176 | 35 |
[WP] You decide to buy lottery tickets for the next 3 weeks draws. All 3 tickets win. While being interviewed by the local news station you are asked how you pulled it off and you joke, "I'm from the future". Later that night you get home and there are 2 men in suits inside. They look like CIA. | "Uh, can I help you?" I stammered, shocked by the two men in dark grey suits. One lowered his sunglasses and held his finger to an ear-piece, muttering something in code.
"Mr Andrews, you're going to have to come with us."
My eyes grew wide.
"What? Why?"
The second agent, motionless until now, drew out a slim silver gun. In one slick motion, he aimed it at my chest.
-
The thing about the CIA, as I had now found out, was that you don't get to ask the questions. They do.
-
"Mr Andrews. How did you get here?"
The voice came distorted through my sleepy ears. I rubbed at my eyes, craning my head away from the harsh light. *Five more minutes*...
"Mr Andrews. I repeat, how did you get here?"
I still didn't answer. Very slowly, I opened my eyes.
I was sitting on a steel chair, hands cuffed to the arms. I was at a similarly metal desk. A lamp was shining in my face. I moaned.
"Mr Andrews. Pay attention."
The fog began to clear from my mind. *Ugh*. My mouth was really dry. And my chest hurt.
"...get... here?" I repeated. "Where am I?"
"That's classified."
I was thinking properly now.
"Holy Sh**! Who are you? Where am I" I began to thrash, hands rubbing painfully on the cuffs. "Oh my god! You've bound me!" I gasped, beginning to hyperventilate...
"Calm down, Mr Andrews!"
"You've stolen my organs, haven't you? Oh my god, oh my god..." I shrieked, struggling to breath.
My wrists were starting to bleed. I whipped my head around frantically. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a slim silver gun in his hand...
-
Another thing about the CIA, is that they won't stand for panicking like a headless chicken...
-
This time the light was soft. A female voice was calling out my name.
"John?" She asked. "Mr Andrews? Are you awake?"
"Mmm... yeah," I mumbled quietly.
"When were you born, Mr Andrews?"
"Huh? 1982..."
My mouth was dry again. "Can I have some water?"
"Yes, of course."
My eyes adjusted to the gentle light from the glowing lamp. It was a similar room, but the furniture was softer...
I turned my head to see the owner of the voice. She was pouring water out of a glass into a paper cup.
"Just as we thought," she said, handing me the cup. I took it in my hands gratefully.
"What did you think?" I asked after taking a mouthful of water. It ran down my throat, cool and refreshing. I held it to my lips and drank again.
"That you aren't a time traveller."
*Time traveller? Why would...*
"You shouldn't make jokes like that. It's quite confusing for us sometimes."
*Oh!* The stupid joke I'd made when the local news station had interviewed me.
"Huh. Okay, I guess."
"We didn't even need to ask you. We've already checked your apartment and run tests on you, it was quite obvious you were just some unfunny loser, not a time-traveller."
"Loser?" I mumbled. "I'm not a loser..."
The woman reached for a little microphone on the desk.
"Subject has confirmed that they are not a time traveller. Just a normie this time, guys."
"Wait, what do you mean this time--"
I was distracted by the slim silver gun she had flipped out of her pocket.
-
The last thing about the CIA, is that their knock-out-gun-things? Yeah, they have a memory-wipe setting.
-
I woke up slumped on my sofa. *Huh, I must have fallen asleep watching TV.* I looked up at the television. Weird. It was switched off.
I rubbed at my chest. It was kinda sore.
I shrugged it off.
Time to go enjoy my new jacuzzi that I had bought with all the lottery money. | The man put away his badge. He'd already told me he was CIA. He didn't feel the need to explain anything past that. He had been standing in the doorway when I had walked into my apartment, the second man was sitting on my couch with Netflix on. From the look of it, he was watching Jessica Jones. It was a good show but there were better things to be doing at the moment.
"CIA?" I finally asked after initially complying. It had felt like the right thing to do. That being said I hadn't taken any effort to actually prove that these guys were CIA, I'd just assumed that they were as soon as they had claimed it. The badge had looked official, "How can I help you?"
"Well, you can start by asking a few questions," the man began. He wasn't wearing the trademark glasses I had expected to see, but we were inside so I gave him a pass on that, "Name?"
"Thomas."
"Full name sir," he sighed.
"Thomas Delver."
"All right," he shrugged, "and you're the guy who won the lottery three times, right?"
"Uh," I paused. It wasn't that I was going to lie it was that I was nervous to mention the truth, "Yeah I was the person who won three times in a row."
"And you claim to be from the future?" he asked. He said it like he believed it about as much as I did.
"Yeah, that was just a joke for the sake of the interview."
"I realize that," the man across from me said. Over on my couch the man that was watching T.V stood up, "But you do have to realize that we need to check into people once they make a claim like that."
"People don't just time travel." I pointed out. The agent nodded.
"At the same time we didn't think that anything lived out in space 10 years ago." he shrugged after saying it, "Live and learn right?"
"So why are you here?"
"You don't mind if we take a look around do you?"
"Um," I thought about it for a second, "no I don't."
"Good, we already did." He nodded over to his partner. The other agent walked over to my computer and pulled my hard drive off the counter. He tossed it to the man across from me.
"I didn't catch your name," I added.
"For good reason," he said, "This is your hard drive?"
"Yes."
"Can you name the files on it for me?"
"Um-" there was more on there than I could think of. A couple hundred folders at least, "I know there is a lot of drone footage."
"That all you can name?"
"I have some of my parents wedding videos on there, but that's everything I know by heart."
"Computer backup," the agent across from me said as he tapped the hard drive on the table and looked at me for a moment, "just that and personal files?"
"Yeah," I said. I was telling the truth.
"There is a folder on here that's from London," he slid the hard drive over to me, "not the city the girl. She's your neighbor, right?"
"Yeah," I said. I was really hoping that hadn't noticed that I was keeping an eye on her. That would seem creepy to the casual onlooker.
"Yeah, you're coming with us." The man said as his partner pulled out a gun. I didn't move, I didn't look around, I just stared at him.
"What?" I asked, "Is this about the lottery thing?"
"Yes," the man said as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "It's about a lot of things Mr. Delver." | 2015-12-09T12:41:42 | 2015-12-09T12:07:51 | 44 | 26 |
[WP] You are the first Dragon to openly admits to abducting princesses. It sparks a huge discussion about your ´perversion´ in the dragon-community.
Not much to say here, but have a great week :-) | The entire crowd stared at me in awe. Never in my entire life had I heard such screaming, painful silence. My wings shifted and I snorted, a little puff of fire bursting out my left nostril.
"Hey, *I said no fire on the damn stage*," the emcee shrieked at me. I guess his hatred for code violation outweighed his disbelief.
"I'm sorry! It...it happens when I'm nervous," I stoutly defended myself. And really- *I was nervous.*
It was that time of the year again; virtually our entire species(and several others) had gotten together for the greatest festival known to the entire Earth. The Fleshbodies think it's they who are the superior species, but our week-long Avaarax clearly proves them wrong. The sky races, fire cloud chasing contests and endless sheep-you-roast-yourself, among many other things, made for such an incredibly fun time that I think it alone proved us superior. But anyway, back to the point.
There was an activity held at the peak of the festival meant to draw us dragons together and knit a tightly weaved community. We believe it improves us as a whole. It's a sort of show and tell, except you offer stories, feelings, or things you've learned so that all may benefit from your experiences. It was my turn.
"Oh, okay, yeah...well," I murmured, a little puff gasping out of my nostril immediately triggering the shit out of the emcee. "Yeah, um...I don't know if there's a word for things like this, but I get a lot of pleasure from stealing prominent fleshbody women, hiding them away and watching the puny males try to rescue them in order to gain their favor. It....it pleases me greatly."
The crowd gasped, angry tendrils of smoke rising through the air and wings flapping furiously. Several fireballs cut the sky, which gave me a burst of courage- it's how you show agreement in the dragon world.
An elder piped up in the crowd, his body littered with scars and his scales discolored, "Why would you tarnish our name and antagonize the fleshbodies so blatantly, child? Have you learned nothing in your studies, or from your elders? We have slaved tediously to maintain the fragile relationship we have with fleshbodies, preventing a war. Does this mean nothing to you?"
"I do understand all that stuff, and yeah I know it's important, but...the rush I get hearing the women scream and seeing the men so desperately fail is unparalleled." Another little puff from me, another fit of rage and threats from the emcee. The crowd was getting really riled up now, the thick smoke only interrupted by shots of fire screaming through the air. The sound of wings flapping quickened like my fluttering heart. There were more fireballs of approval this time.
A few other people piped up and admitted to doing it as well. Some hid the females in towers, some in caves or dungeons- some apparently enjoy the screams more than the rush of crushing rescue attempts. I had no idea so many people felt this way.
"Whatever reason you feel, the point is that it's our lives and none of you should be able to say we can't enjoy our pleasures. I know half of you old folk used to hide away and guard piles of gold, or attack fleshbody cities. Things change. And you know what else? I like trying to talk to the females I steal. They always say things to me I don't understand, and they don't understand me, but I feel like I can be honest with them without all this judgement."
The crowd was becoming a mob, now. I started getting worried that a fight might break out. People were shouting, "it's disgusting, perverted and an affront to our species!" while others encouraged me and started admitting to doing it as well.
One awkward, lopsided dragon popped up and asked, "What will this activity be called? I would like to try."
"Well, to me it's all about the way the males fight me to save the females...I love locking the females up, restrictions them and controlling them completely. They are powerless before me, completely at my whim. The males are as well, but are free to try and defeat me, at least. They get creative trying to kill me, and I get creative trying to kill them. Blood is spilt on both sides, and it's always the *slightest bit different* between each Fleshie. I think I shall call it....50 Shades of Slay."
The crowd was a riot. Some people loved it, many hated it and some were simply disgusted, but I'd made an impact on my species and that alone was worth opening up about it.
*Who knows, maybe I'll get a friend to join me some day. Oh, I'll start a club! I'll call it... "The Club for Bashful Dragons Showing their Merit".* | "You are sick. That's just wrong. Perverted."
Harold, a purple dragon with green spots, sharp teeth, and thick horns chastises Elron after his admission. Dozens of other dragons are in attendance.
"No, hold on. I did nothing wrong here."
Another dragon named Madrid chimes in.
"Nothing wrong? Interspecies copulation is nothing wrong?" Says Madrid.
"Who said it's sexual?" Says Elron. "Maybe, I just want to eat them."
"Is that what happens?" Asks Harold.
"Well, no, I mean no. I never eat them. I wait for a knight to come rescue the princess, and I get to have a good fight. That's what does it for me. They always send one, just one knight. Then, I let her go."
"Ewww..." Says Omegle. "We are a sex positive species as long as its with other dragons. Why didn't you bring this fantasy to us?"
"Come on, I've tried. Dragons just don't do it." Says Elron.
Harold's nostrils flare and flame. "How many times have you done this? If it's just once or twice, we might be okay."
Elron plays coy. "It's been a few times."
"How many?" Say Madrid. Elron looks away. "HOW MANY?"
"Two or three..."
"Good." Says Harold.
"Hundred..."
"Damn it." Says Omegle.
"Thousand."
"There aren't that many princesses or knights. How is that possible?" Asks Omegle.
"Well, I keep stealing the princesses over and over. I've been doing it for 200 years too." Says Elron.
"Oh, dude, you have a serious problem. I think you are a sex addict. You need help." Says Madrid.
"Ok, ok, maybe. Someone should probably free the princess in my cave though." Says Elron.
***
Elron goes to group therapy with Charlie Sheen, Tiger Woods, and other sex addicts. He is a huge dragon among normal humans. People have never seen a dragon in the flesh before except for those taken by Elron. The dragon explains his situation, but everyone can only focus on his being a dragon.
"So, how long have dragons existed?" Asks Charlie.
"I don't know. Millions of years."
"I bet I could do something amazing with Dragon blood." Says Sheen.
"You breath fire, right?" Asks Tiger. "Do you dragons do weird sex stuff, like us?"
"Yes, and, I guess, yes."
Oh, Elron thinks, and I'm the weirdo. The group moves on, but Sheen and Woods give him their number for an unknown reason. As Elron leaves, he realizes it's probably a sex thing. His skin crawls, and he wonders if he just end this, end it all.
Elron flies to the Golden Gate Bridge where he thinks about jumping. He has to admit its dramatic, but he's feeling dramatic. Everyone keeps their distance from him except for another human woman wearing a tiara and an evening gown. Elron looks at her then looks back at the water, then he looks back to her. She is pretty. The kind of woman who would draw forth a knight.
"What's your deal, woman?" Asks Elron.
"I'm a princess, and I'm going to kill myself."
"But, why?"
"Because I like to, I get off, from being captured by dragons." She doesn't look at me. I recognized her now, but I don't think she's noticed me.
"Well, I am a dragon with a similar problem. I've abducted you before."
A man in armor approaches them. He lifts the face plate on his helmet.
"My name is Galahad. I have a similar problem. I get off from fighting dragons while trying to save princesses."
"Well, I am Elron. I think we can work something out." He says with a dragon smile that bares his teeth.
And they did, and they lived happily ever after.
***
I have more writing at r/nickkuvaas. | 2016-01-17T08:19:17 | 2016-01-17T07:59:46 | 126 | 20 |
[WP] You are a well respected, elite assassin. You always get your target and you make it seem like an accident. The only problem is you have no idea what you are doing. You get the assignment and your target always seems to die of natural causes. | They call me the best assassin in the world. I'm praised by thousands of shady, back alley, black market dealers as the most efficient, undetectable, and ruthless assassin available. I've even had undercover government agents bribe their way to finding me, paying me massive sums to take down notorious politicians and celebrities.
None of them know the truth, though. Honestly, I've never done anything to any of my targets. I get a letter in the mail; a picture, a name, and a paycheck. I spend the night thinking about that person, memorizing their name and face, and the next morning, they're dead. Car accident, heart attack, brain aneurysm, toaster in the bathtub. Doesn't matter to me. They die, and I get paid, but it doesn't end there.
Whenever I take a target's life, I receive some of their memories, and the emotions that come with them. Expecting wives, sons and daughters, recent promotions. Funerals, grievances, long-lasting depression, extreme stress. I take these lives, and with them, I take their hopes and sorrows, too. It all makes me guilty, even if I never really did anything. Somehow, I just ended someone's life. And all for what? Some pointless cash? No money should be worth the soul of another. But my soul is worthless. Weighed down and crushed by the lives I've taken. It's too much for a mortal man to bear.
Tonight, I'll be thinking of myself. | My next target was the pretty, blonde girl regaling the entire bar with her adventures as a female rogue.
Apparently, she had also pissed someone else off enough for them to hire an assassin - me - to kill her. Bet she didn't know that story, though.
Either way, my plan was to ask her out (you know, get her alone, not for sex or anything like that, nooooo sir, not me!) and then do what I had to do (kill her, I mean, not actually...*do* her or anything like that...heh...).
But when I asked her out, she died laughing. Literally laughed until she actually died. And that concluded my assignment.
So. In the end, I got paid, my reputation as a feared assassin grew, and oh! I'm still a virgin...yup.
Whoopee. -.- | 2018-10-08T17:32:18 | 2018-10-08T16:07:42 | 173 | 44 |
[WP] After you are elected President, you discover a big red button hidden in your desk in the Oval Office. When you ask your predecessor about it, he said that it had been there for decades, but the secret of what it did died with Kennedy. After a few years, you finally give in and push the button.
To clarify, each President told their successor what the button did, but Kennedy was assassinated before he could pass the secret on. Couldn't fit that info in the title, sorry :/ | On my desk, between my little desktop American flag and my malfunctioning clock, which only seemed to incorrectly measure seconds, there is a button with a flip top. Over my years as president, this button has tempted me, but fear of what it could possibly do prevented me from touching the forbidden control.
However, though, my patience was wearing thin that day. I had to deal with a NATO meeting in 2 hours, then the State of the Union address a few hours after that. As if that wasn't enough, the Battle of Alaska was still raging with the Russians, and from the looks of it, neither side has an advantage.
"Stupid NATO, stupid Russia, stupid WWIII, stupid address! Screw it, I need button therapy!" I shouted as I flipped back the cover, my hand hovering over the button, waiting for when it felt correct.
My broken alarm clock ticked away- 29...28..27...
I slammed the button, and the alarm clock reset and went back to 59 as bright orange lights descended from the ceiling, a siren wailing throughout the White House. Rapidly responding, a few secret servicemen dashed into my office, only to pause upon seeing the orange lights. Somehow, they were all donning armbands of grey, red, and orange.
"Dammit, President! You were 8 seconds away from a red flair! You could have been Redguard, like me!" shouted the red-armbanded one.
The grey one looked at him in disgust. "Either way, he's a filthy presser! The Shade rejects him!"
The third one, wearing an orange armband, handed me one as well.
"Welcome to the Orange Revolution!"
I couldn't fucking believe it. It's *that* button from Reddit. Damn, I should have known that this would be it. | Aliens exist, the Illuminati controls Congress, wrestling is real. Every state secret listed on a printout thicker than a double cheeseburger. My racing heart slows upon discovering that no, you can't order a lamb burger on Thursdays because the chef who handles that is off. The facts grow less interesting the deeper I go. The last line of the massive classified document is "Don't Touch The Red Button."
If I told you I knew how to run a country, I'd be lying. My hair is gray now. The Dow Jones is lower than my approval rating. Milk prices now rival gold. China points toward LA. Russia points nukes at NYC and DC. There are race riots, gender riots, economic riots, pizza riots, riot riots. My suit is stained at the pits and my collar feels tighter than an autoerotic asphyxiation enthusiast's.
My fingers dig into inlet of the panel cover. I swat it up and look at the big red button. My forearm quakes as I press my thumb to the shiny metallic activator. I push.
It depresses.
"Please try again," the hollow voice says.
I blink.
Aliens exist, the Illuminati controls Congress, wrestling is real. | 2015-04-08T15:49:02 | 2015-04-08T15:23:23 | 81 | 30 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | Everyone has met that one person who just ruins the game for everyone else. That person takes all the treasure, dictates where the party is going or what they're to do, things like that. Sadly for this group, Becky *was* that person.
Becky was a goody-goody player that *had* to have it all. Magic items in the chest? Becky needed them to "defend the lesser members of her party". Potions of healing? "You guys don't take the damage that I do." Go to a new city and it's shopping time for Becky. "You guys need me to defend you, so give me all your gold and I'll get something that'll help me do just that."
Did I mention that Becky was a Paladin?
And did I mention that Becky *loved* to role-play anything besides the actual combat?
When I was invited to this session, I knew I had the perfect character for taking care of the "Paladin Problem", as the DM put it. I pulled out this character only for special occasions. I made sure to give this character sheet to the DM before the game even started. It makes life a little easier to be handed a character sheet when you're the "new" player.
I won't bore you with the details of the beginning of the session. Suffice to say that the other three players were tired of Becky's constant demands and taking this newest treasure, an Amulet of Day, for herself. When the party decided to stop at the next inn to rest up, my plan sprung into action.
Becky had been hounding me to give her my enchanted gloves for a while now. Ever since she spotted on my character sheet that I had some magic items, she felt she deserved them more than I did. So I made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
"Why don't we go upstairs to discuss this in private?" I asked her. She quickly agreed, and I led the way to the room we had rented for the night. This room was simple: a metal bed, small table with two chairs, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. There was a small window that overlooked the stables below. I smiled as I quietly locked the door behind us, "so we don't have unnecessary interruptions."
I then announced that the only way I was parting with the gloves was with an act of pure faith. She had to do whatever I asked, no questions. I could see the other players' eyes begin to lose their dull shine. The DM was even interested.
Of course Becky agreed, so long as she got the gloves. "Oh, and that sword too!" She had just noticed the magic blade.
"Of course," I replied, smiling. I could see the DM start to realize what was about to happen. The others listened silently.
I told Becky that since I liked role-playing too, we should do a little role-playing right now. Oh, how her eyes lit up at the notion! I told her to take off her armor, but leave the clothing. Ditch the weapons. Lay down on the bed.
"Do you like a little bondage?" I asked, still smiling. Poor Becky didn't even think to wonder why this was happening; she just agreed and was ready for whatever was to come. She accepted the ropes binding her to the metal bed. She accepted when I sat my character down atop hers and whispered, "Care for a kiss?"
I wish I could've taken a picture of the exact moment Becky realized her dear Paladin was getting attacked by a vampire. She tried to tell the DM that she was going to break free, but, no, the rolls were not in her favor that day. Poor Becky watched as her Paladin got her blood drained until there was nothing left.
The DM, Tomas, smiled. I could see smiles on the other players' faces as well. My character stood up, unlocked the door, and went downstairs.
"You know what needs to be done," I said to the remaining players. I turned to Becky, who was still in a bit of shock. "I get to keep that character now. You will rise as a vampire spawn after 1d4 days under my control. Oh, and thanks for the Amulet."
I stood up from the table, grabbed Becky's sheet and my own, and, with a nod to the others, took my leave.
Another one to the fold... | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/dnd] [Is it me or does this just sound like a great idea?](https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/aiil4d/is_it_me_or_does_this_just_sound_like_a_great_idea/)
- [/r/rpg_brasil] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpg_brasil/comments/ain5cr/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/rpghorrorstories] [Doesn‘t really belong heree, but maybe you like it](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/ail8us/doesnt_really_belong_heree_but_maybe_you_like_it/)
- [/r/rpghorrorstories] [So this is a writing prompt they're not real stories but I think this is something we have wished we could do to some of our problem players XD](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/amgzxr/so_this_is_a_writing_prompt_theyre_not_real/)
- [/r/u_beardsonfire] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BeardsOnFire/comments/aijsdd/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/u_personusername] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_PersonUsername/comments/aiiiy8/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/u_soullessgent] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_soullessgent/comments/aij46a/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | 2019-01-21T20:13:01 | 2019-01-21T19:09:12 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] You live across from a McDonalds that is 100% automated. Every night from 2-4am, empty self-driving cars go through the drive through. Your curiosity is about to get the best of you. | Ethan noticed the self-driving cars again. On time, as usual, line up quietly as they came and went from the McDonalds. He had been doing this for a week. Tonight he was going to see why this was happening, not like it was bothering him, but just plain old curiosity.
Ethan stepped out of his home and made his way across the street. He didn't care whether or not he was seen due to the fact that every single car was empty. He waiting until a break in the line before stepping up to the drive thru. Ethan read the menu, it was completely different from the usual Big Mac and McChickens. Sure it was on there, in case the owners of the cars ordered late, but on the menu were hands for 5% battery, 10 piece toe for 3% battery, and even McStomachs for 1% battery.
A car revved behind Ethan.
___
I tried haha. Enjoy! :)
| People are ordering from an app. The self driving cars are just delivering preordered food. But CIA has had the phones and microwaves tapped. The obtained information is processed by ai which deems Henry pumerskins a threat to the collective. The restaurant receives the codes to administer toxin into Henry's food. | 2017-08-03T21:03:31 | 2017-08-03T21:03:19 | 346 | 19 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | Urist was startled awake by the sounds of screams from outside his room, mercifully dampened by distance and the heavy wooden door that lead into the living quarters passageway. He grimaced anyway, somehow aware he was on the verge of a splitting headache that would make itself known at the slightest provocation.
The booze had ran out yesterday, and already the fort was in disarray. The usual sounds of the fort were deafeningly absent - the throng of metalworking, the chipping of the stonecarver, thwacking of the butcher, the constant hum of conversation and song - all replaced with moaning, crying, and the occasional pained or angered scream.
He decided his best course of action was to stay in bed. Outside it he never quite lost the sense of chill this place had - knowing he was only a dozen blocks away from the largest ice sheet he had ever seen somehow dampened the heat of any fire and the comfort of his furred clothes - but here in his warm bed, in the stupor of sleepiness, he clung to the only real sense of true warmth he could remember since he arrived here.
"*An exotic home under the ice*" they said. "*A chance at a fresh start*" they said. "*You'll find riches in the untouched Earth*" they said.
Instead all they found was granite, basalt, and a few meagre streaks of coal and hematite, under more ice than he thought existed in the world. Where were the magma tubes the geologists promised to help turn their cold little hole in the ground into a cosy home? Where was the underground lake they were so sure must be under such a thick layer of ice? How could there not be a living underworld here, caves of edible creatures and plants that they believed underlaid the whole world? They seemed to stretch on forever in the depths under his old mountainhome, but here in this Armokforsaken place they'd found nothing but ice and an endless sea of rock.
Urist wasn't used to such thoughts. He was used to just getting on with things, the realities of his harsh life fading away into the usual fuzz of routine. Whenever he felt the cold fist of reality closing in there was always a barrel of dwarven ale or river spirits from the supplies to ease his mind. How bad could it be, really, with a belly full of ale?
There was shouting now. Accusing sounds, angry. Then, louder, the distinctive voice of Mayor Amkin. It was getting closer. Urist could pick out some of the words now, a rambling tirade about how none of this was his fault emerging from the cacophony.
His head started to throb. The ache in his gut grew. Dwarves weren't meant to feel this way, to worry about their lot in life, to bicker and fight when they could be working towards their future, to feel the sheer existential dread of knowing they were trapped in a harsh world full of horrors both mundane and miraculous.
They were just meant to drink and *get on with it*.
The shouting reached a crescendo, and was suddenly replaced by a blood-curdling, gargling scream. Then abrupt, unnatural silence.
Urist held his breath and pulled the covers closer. It's warm here, he thought. At least it was warm. | Libash was fishing. He loved to fish, even if other dwarfs would make fun of him for it. In the dwarven society many jobs were considered useless, but fishering work was considered one of the most. At least he did his job well, purging the life out of lakes and rivers in moments. He was able to feed the fortress for centuries, wat would be somewhat valuable if the food stockpiles weren't overflowing by the others crafts already.
But he did his job well, "better than the miners that dig so narrow passages; better than the oversser that designed so much many curves and long corridors in the fortress entrance, making the way down the fortress way longer than necessarie; better than the novice armosmith that was crafting such a poor armor that would make fighter prefer go to battle armorless; better than... oh, the pond is dead, my job here is finished".
Libash went directly to the entrance door, "let the haulers take care of the fish, I doubt there is barrels to spare storing it, it will rot as alwa..." pwe, the arrow went right by his head, he went runing to the door that was now locked. "fuckers let me outside to die" Libash knew that storie well. When a siege aprachs the overseer will make enormous effort to save the brewer, the metalsmith and even the engraver, but did less than look for the fisherdwarf that acctualy had a reason to be outside, even if there is enough time to let him in. He knew better than bash the door and wait for a response, he bolted right for the pond, the animals would distract the invaders and give him enough time to... drink, Libash was tirstie as hell, with no acess to booze he was subject to one more humiliation: to drink water out of the pond. At least it motivate him "I can not die know, water shall not be my last drink" and he drank, and drank and hided and waited. The goblins was now exchanging arrows for bolts with the dwarfs in the towers, the dogs were set loose and were made food for the beak dogs, are newly formed squad was heading outside of the doors, underequipeds and ready to die, "only a distraction" he knew, even if one soldier managed to survive the goblins, nothing would escape the warm bath. And it came, glowing, fast, under the pressure of the most experients pump operators, the gods piss killed everyone and destroyed everything except for the valuable metal armor. And it was done. The siege ended, he could only wait, wait for the magma to evaporate to gain acess to the underworld. It took more water and many raw fishes before he could entry the earth.
to be continued | 2017-12-31T08:13:06 | 2017-12-31T07:55:00 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Tabitha rested briefly after harvesting sixty carrots in the humid, virtual sun. The beads of sweat that accumulated on her forehead felt real as day, and they felt even more real when she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Her red pigtails fell to her shoulders, which was covered by a pink floral shirt and some dirty denim overalls. She rolled the bottom of her overalls up to her calf, revealing long pink socks tucked into practical work boots.
"When does this game become fun, Macy?"
Her question was directed to her friend who was playing another support class -- a farmer. She wore similar overalls over a green shirt, but instead of being armed with a trowel and mini rake, the farmer was equipped with a pitchfork. Tabitha's friend sheepishly smiled with a long piece of straw in her mouth and tilted her straw hat back, revealing a forehead even sweatier than Tabitha's.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to get stuck as a gardener...but it's all random. That's some bad luck, huh?"
"If I wanted to harvest carrots, I'd move into the country," Tabitha paused as she picked a carrot that she planted five minutes ago. It sprung up with a satisfying coin-like noise. "Although, I do like the sounds."
Tabitha planted a few more carrots in a line on her friend's farm. The sun hung high in the air and the clouds moved lazily across the perfectly blue sky. Macy owned a tiny farmhouse, one that she was able to purchase after putting in time as a stable hand for other players. It took a while, but she finally had land to harvest and was secretly glad her friend rolled a similar support class. A gardener and farmer synchronize greatly.
"Pull up your stats, I want to see what kind of moves you have," beckoned Macy.
Tabitha lifted her hand in the air and made it into a fist for five seconds. She released the fist and an 8-bit pixelated menu popped up in front of them. At the top, it showed a picture of Tabitha's avatar with an intimidating empty bar under it to keep track of her experience points. Most of her stats were D-rank, not excelling in anything except for her stamina which shined yellow as a C-rank.
"Click on 'Moves.'"
Tabitha did as her friend instructed and tapped the menu item that was labeled "Moves." It pulled up a new pixelated menu screen with two items listed: "Plant Carrot" and "Harvest Carrot."
"Well, that's not very exciting," frowned Tabitha. Macy giggled.
"Maybe we have to find some seeds to expand your moveset! The real problem is your experience bar. I've never heard of a gardener getting to level 2. You have a looooong way to go."
"Let's just quit and go to a bar or something."
Macy sneered, but the whimsical gesture suddenly turned serious as she spotted a dark figure in the distance riding on a horse. "Oh no," she muttered.
Tabitha turned around to see what made her friend turn serious. It was another player, as indicted by the red triangle above his head. The red color of the triangle also indicated that the player had his "Player vs. Player" mode activated, allowing him to attack other players who opted into PvP mode.
"At least he can't take what we harvested already," said Macy, as the player charged towards the two. "He's lucky he rolled a Dark Knight, a rare attacker class. He'll just trash the place and move on after he realizes he can't kill us." Macy sighed, knowing she would have to spend more time fixing up her farm and getting it back to the productivity level that it's at now.
"Any idea why he's not slowing down?" questioned Tabitha. Macy looked at her friend, and then to the Dark Knight. She looked back to her friend, and then once more at the Dark Knight that now pulled out a lance and aimed it towards Tabitha, with no intention of stopping. Macy had just noticed the red triangle above Tabitha's head.
"You opted in for PvP?!"
"I didn't know what it meant at the time!"
Macy brought her hand to her face. "Don't worry it doesn't hurt, I've died countless times." she reassured Tabitha. "Maybe you'll feel a pinch."
"What????" panicked Tabitha. The Dark Knight was closing in on his prey, now only a couple of meters away from the low-level gardener. His mighty steed picked up speed and the knight readied his lance towards Tabitha's face. Just as he was about to strike, however, one of the horse's front hooves became caught on the line of carrots Tabitha had planted earlier.
The horse fell forward, launching the dark knight behind the girls and towards Macy's farmhouse. He landed violently just short of the porch, with his gut completely impaled onto his lance. Within seconds, he burst into a million little pieces.
Tabitha's character burst a celebratory gold explosion three times in a row to Macy's amazement. Tabitha looked around, completely confused. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled up her character menu. The once empty bar had filled three times, revealing her to be level 4.
"Holy crap, Tabitha!!" Macy was still in shock. She only received partial experience due to owning the land where the battle happened, but Tabitha received full experience due to landing the killing blow with her deadly carrots. But it wasn't the experience that Macy was surprised by, it was one minor detail on the menu.
"Tabitha," she began, still looking for words. "It doesn't say you're a support class anymore...it says you're a summoner!" | Plants were the most beautiful thing ever. They started off small, insignificant, just a little seed in the huge world. But with time and care they grew from a little shoot, larger and larger until they bloomed, bright and full of life with thousands of different colours and patterns. I suppose I liked them for they symbolised what I could never be.
When I graduated as an adventurer, I was full of hope, full of a brash longing to be a hero. But they tested everyone and I ranked so low they put me as a gardener. I was disowned, disgraced. Penniless and an orphan. Nothing I could do except toil in the soil with the glare of the hot sun on my back. Watering and weeding. Planting and harvesting. Everything I did rankled me, to think I attended and learned for so long only to waste all my skills? It was pathetic.
I only started enjoying the job after a while. When I hummed while watering, smiled while weeding. When I planted seeds carefully, harvested those delicate flowers and fruits with love. When I calmed the brash energy in me, took to looking through gardening books instead of heading down to the pub and wasting my pittance on ale and beer. But even with all those small signs, I only realised it when the soldiers and knights, tacticians and researchers came back from war. They trampled on my meticulously tended beds of plants, uncaring of the little lives they killed. Laughing and teasing with their metal armour caked with blood and mud, they spat at me, jeered that no adventurer should ever be so pathetic.
The rage I felt at their casual dismissal of my plants was horrific. It burned and growled like a raging inferno pulsing through my skin, the red hot heat pulsing and I gathered what little mana I was allowed to use to blast them back. They didn’t move an inch of course, how could they with their spell prove gear. It was idiotic of me to even try and only caused them to laugh and purposely jump on my plants, grinning even more with every bit of anger I had increased.
When they were gone, I stayed back to replant every single plant, watering them and tending to their roots, supporting them with sticks and twigs. My brash actions even made it impossible to use my mana to heal them. It was impulsive and I learnt from that encounter, to keep a firm hold of my temper.
From then on they always came onto my beds to trample them, enjoying the annoyance in my clenched fists and the misery in my eyes. I ignored them though, simply doing my job and helping my plants after they were done. I cared not what those ignorant people did, only rejoiced that my once hated job gave me humility and compassion that I was not like them, trampling and destroying lives just to torment someone. That day was no different. Just as I was clearing my gardens of weeds and stones, Colonel Hurst arrived on horseback with gleaming black sword encrusted with rubies and solid gold shield carefully spelled to reflect attacks in hand. His carefully gelled blonde hair and gleaming white teeth caused a few of the ladies to sigh in appreciation but what they failed to notice was the hardness and cruelty in his onyx eyes when he espied me.
As per usual, I did not utter a word and merely turned my back to his. I knew I would not want to witness his causal cruelty to my plants for he was the worst of my tormentors. But just as I heard him approaching, a startled cry rang in my ears and I spun to see him having trip. With his shield and sword in hand he had no way to stabilise himself and his head crashed onto a jagged rock, one that I had been about to pick up before he arrived.
A sharp sound caught my attention and I realised my tester chip embedded in my head was alerting me. I closed my eyes and opened my home page, gasping when I saw a large LEVEL UP sign promoting me to Soldier, allowing me a further 45% of my mana instead of my meagre 5%, with an increase of supplies and money as well.
I frowned. Before liking this gardener job, I would have leaped at this opportunity to improve my rank, to become what I had always wished to be. To be the first gardener who had ever improved rank. But I had come to realise that being a gardener was a wonderful job and it had been a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t want to leave the Cook without his spices and herbs, the servants without their fruit and even the Butler’s wife without her flower for good luck. Most importantly, I wouldn’t want to leave my beautiful plants behind, without a caretaker who understood their needs and wants. That the roses preferred the morning sun to the afternoon one, that the apple trees liked to be harvested the day before All Hallows’ Eve and the calmness and happiness they bestowed onto me.
I turned my chip off, felt the increase in power in my hands, saw the dead body of my tormentors my feet and sniffed. “He’ll make good fertiliser for the plants.”
Edit: Spelling error | 2021-09-27T12:31:06 | 2021-09-09T21:25:01 | 315 | 45 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | I could have sworn I had been sitting at a red light just a few seconds ago. Now I’m in some sort of office building, and it seems that whoever runs the place has a sense of humor because there is a big sign that says “Welcome To Hell” on the wall. I wonder if I blacked out i mean I wa- “NEXT!”. Some woman in a pants suit was gesturing at me wildly I’m not sure why, but I think I should follow her.
According to the nameplate on her desk her name was Karen, and she didn’t seem to be too happy with me. “You know atleast the Hitlers of the world had some sort of goal in mind, but not you no you just were to fuckin stupid to call an Uber when you went and got wasted.” She said unenthusiastically, “Sorry, but what are you talking about and where am I exactly?” I may have been asking what to me seemed an appropriate question but what I got in response was a rather dramatic eye roll then she just said,
“Your name Mr. Charles Knight. You’ve been killed in a drunk driving accident. Because you were the drunk one who sped into a cross section before the light turned green - idiot- resulting in the deaths of 3 people you are now at the Hell intake office. Any questions before you are processed? You have 30 seconds”.
I stammered “b-but I don’t even remember that and this is an office building cmon where are the cameras is this some sort of game show? I mean if it really was hell wouldn’t it be fiery and scary?”, she looked at me for a few seconds before responding, “I knew you were a moron, but really those are your two questions? No this isn’t a game show. No hell as you can see isn’t fiery and scary. You’ll be assigned a studio Apartment in Sector 1309. I suggest you start a hobby or something. Goodbye!”
Suddenly I was standing on a city street with a key in my hand looking up at a building that looked like any other apartment complex in the world except it stretched upward as far as the eye could see. I spotted a man walking down the street and tried to ask where I was “Fuck off.” Ok maybe someone else would be a litter more friendly. That’s when I spotted a poster on the wall.
*WELCOME TO HELL to all new arrivals you might be a bit confused. There is no need to be alarmed yes you are in hell, but it isn’t much like you may have heard back on earth. Turns out the only punishment that gets worse with time is boredom so that’s what this place used to be just a bunch of buildings where they locked people up to be bored forever, but when the most conniving minds in history get bored they also get ideas. So about 78 years ago we rebelled, and took over there is no eternal torment here just a pretty average earth society minus the need for food, or sleep, or any of that nonsense. Since you were assigned into SECTOR 1309 it appears you don’t really have any useful skills so feel free to pick up a hobby or attend school. Just enjoy yourself! [if you know anything about Quantum Physics please report to SECTOR 112 we are trying to make a portal to earth and you could be useful in that endeavor]*
“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. If we can just do whatever we want maybe I’ll take up painting, or oh I wonder what type of porn they have here!”, I mumbled to myself, then there was a blinding flash of light in the sky, and a giant glowing hand reached down out of a portal that had just appeared. *THIS WILL NOT STAND YOU WILL BE PUNISHED AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE* the hand was shot by what appeared to be anti-aircraft cannons, and after taking a pretty good pummeling the portal vanished and the severed arm crashed down to the ground. A woman walking by noticed my surprised expression and said, “Oh, sweetie, that happens like every Wednesday don’t worry about it”. | Trumpets blasted in the air. The sound was making the hairs on my skin stand up straight. That plus the view of millions of people screaming and running towards a group of demons.
I tried to keep up while the first humans reached the demons. They may have been dead already but the demons made sure nothing was left. Their claws and teeth went straight true the weak human flesh and bones.
How would we ever win this war? What change did we have against fallen angels? Demons from hell? It was Alexander the Great himself who had set up this battle plan. Him and his valuable generals. All old rulers themself. Some ruled parts of the earth so long ago nobody rememberd them. Others where more from my time. Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Qadaffi, Putin and so many more.
Over the last 53 years they had worked on a plan to take over Hell itself. First in secret but 53 years is a long time. Slowly their plans started to leak and more and more people wanted to help. Their centuries of experience in battle came together in todays plan. And here i was running. Just running towards demons. Was that the best they could do?
I mean i wouldnt mind getten ripped in peaces. Hell was shitty anyway, but serieus? This was it? At that moment i saw how thousands of humans run over a demon. We where simply to many and to fast. As soon as the dirst demon fell more followed. A deep raw sounded true the vallei of dead. We millions of humans felt a victory. We screamend, we yelled.
My feet stepped into blood and bones. Human but also demon. I could smell it. Was this it? Was this how we would take over hell?
At that moment a sound so deeply, so frightening sounded. It made our voices sound like mouses. Again the hair on my skin stood up but this time because of fair. Everybody knew this sound. It was the Devil himself. The angel of death. The nightmare of us all. A shadow casted itself over us. And far above us an dragon like beast apeared. It moved closer. Fastly.
While the shadow got darker i saw how in the distance Alexander moved his hands. So far away but still so powerfull. Did he have a plan for this? It must be. Fire came down from satan his mouth. Burning so many of us. It left a burnend highway of ashes towards the end of vallei. With a sharp movement he turned around. Ready for a second run. Right at that moment earth disappeared and man build machines popped up. Stones attached to ropes made of humanparts got shot towards the Devil. Attacking him from the back. At the same time humans riding captured demons flew in, attacking this almighty beast from every side.
At that moment i myself reach a demon and fight for my dead. Alone i would not stand a change, but we are with so many. I get pushed against the demon and can barely breath. All i can do is bite. So i bite. I will eat myself true his revolting skin. It tastes like nothing i ever tasted before. So discusting, so intense. I feel my bones in my body breaking from all the preasure. I keep eating. I scream, i bite, i cry, i dig. Slowly it gets dark before my eyes.
| 2018-06-17T20:40:04 | 2018-06-17T18:55:02 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] (credit to /u/Arandmoor) I'm tired of fantasy where Elves are 'better than you' just because they're elves. Give me some sword & sorcery, fantasy-style, where typical elder fantasy races learn why it's not wise to mess with 'mere' humans. | [[ HFY might be one of my favorite genres of all time, thanks for the WP! ]]
The last war looked a lot like the first.
The borders between the races always blurred in neighboring towns and those who were forced to work with other...*people*...usually found a way to manage in order to make it through the long dry summers and cruel winters. Yet the deeper one traveled into the center of each land, the more harshly the opinions of one group against another. The more outlandish the stories and rumors became that painted the other side. Elves believed humans farmed children for slaughter, why else would they bear so many young? Dwarfs thought that elves prayed to dark-lords for guidance and longevity, why else would the elves have such ornate towers of worship? Humans believed dwarfs held the secrets to all engineering progress because...well, that was true. The dwarfs had long ago mastered steam and gear in ways the elves thought frivolous and humans marveled at.
While each race held the other in contempt, they also knew why each race gave the realm what they contributed. The elves provided vast libraries and networks of scrolls and wisdom, their libraries seemed endless with knowledge to be spread. The dwarfs sold machinery for such wisdom as the elves sold to enhance the efficiency of their machines, a self fulfilling prophecy that plunged the dwarven race ever deeper into the planet, hungry to craft more and more. The human? The humans held the pact together through might and will. Where the elves might have maintained a truce through diplomacy and compromise, the dwarves did so by simple subterfuge and mere hard headed stubborness. The humans would be the first to fight.
The first war was about that issue, almost entirely. As the first human explorers made contact with elven border settlements, the hunger of humanity to learn more and more about its new world was almost impossible to keep up with. Elves would marvel at the futility of the human mind, a mind that would last 60, perhaps 70 years, but that never stopped looking to absorb more information. At first the elves were more than happy to help a fledgling species of sentience, but then the humans hungered for the farthest reaches of elven wisdom and the elves rebuked mankind for its arrogance. Humanity reacts poorly to being shown walls, high mountain, or deep seas. First came diplomatic chills, and empires began to mobilize against one another. Elves shifted veteran regiments into position and the humans raised vast legions of gritty conscripts and noble savages.
It had been a bloodbath for both sides, but the elves learned fastest that the first lesson the human race had learned was survival. The second was hunting. It was only because the elves were also quick learners that they did not become completely obliterated by the first Elvo-Human war. A peace accord was struck and borders were hammered out.
Then the Dwarfs were encountered. The humans gawked at impressive machines and industrialization. There was no trade that could be agreed upon between dwarf and man, the dwarves simply had no use for anything the humans could provide. So the humans took what they wanted, at a steep cost. An entire faction of humans was lost to the first Mountain Wars. Dwarven settlements high in the mountains and deep underground had made any advance to their fortifications nearly suicidal. They boggled at the maddness displayed as human sappers detonated vast networks of explosives to gain entry. The cost to obtain a single city worth of steam-craft was high, and the dwarfs would remember what the humans were willing to pay to obtain it.
At one point the dwarfs and elves decided to put their past behind and attempt to quell the human issue together. They marched into the lands of men with battle wagons and war streamers proudly displayed. They made vast gains into the empires of humanity and believed victory was all but assured when the guerrilla war broke out within their supply columns. The elves couldn't fathom the idea of women and children fighting with the same tenacity of human soldiers. Dwarfs had incorrectly assumed that once a city fell it would just as easily begin trading with its new rulers, such was custom among the early dwarf settlements. The first Human War was a catastrophe for the elves and dwarfs, only 20% of all the units that crossed into human lands ever returned to their homes. For the humans, it had been wildly profitable as they gained insights into how to create better arms and armor from the elves and better machinery, again, from the dwarfs.
An accord was struck between the three races only when a forth arrived. A true 'other'. They came by sea, smashing into the elven coasts. Their weapons were crude and brutal, their tactics savage and wild like humanity. Their hunger nearly as bottomless. Orcs.
As they elves scrambled to stem the tides the dwarfs did as they did best and went to ground, hiding away their wealth and value from hungry eyes. Had it not been for human students in elven colleges, the world might not have known the horror that was ravaging elf lands. Thus started the first alliance between elf and man, and not just a tacit agreement to end hostilities. As the orcs held their first battle against human forces, they were stunned to meet a warlike brother. Humans, strengthened by their power over steam-machines from dwarfs, enhanced with elven weaponry, and guided by a primitive savagery to survive, the first Orish War was bloody and terrible.
Orcs were driven back to the sea at the cost of many human lives, but the agreement would forever be known and the various races of man, elf, and dwarf recognized one another for their value. Elves would house the wisdom, dwarfs would tame steel, and mankind would man the gates. When the orcs returned again, the last war looked very much like the first.
-----
If you liked this story and want more like it you can find my other scribbles here at /r/ZigZagStories . Thanks! | Modern society long ago decided there were no such things as faeries, elves, dragons, dwarves, or other so-called "imaginary races". Of course, to be fair to scientists, the various races which peopled our world had left, long ago, by sucking up the magic in the world to power dimensional gates. The gates were placed in extremely unstable spots in the world, where it was thought the dimensional walls would be extremely thin and the gates would be destroyed, keeping us humans from following.
The gates themselves apparently varied as much as the people who made them. The faeries and brownies constructed small gates, better suited for their small forms, and these gates apparently just became nests for animals. The elves had formed a giant gate out of wood and greenery and flowers, and that gate had apparently just withered away into nothing. The dwarves had constructed an elaborate stone archway near a volcano, and while the arch had been buried, it hadn't been destroyed. We recovered the knowledge of those gates, and went in search of those mythical races. We quickly learned, that they were not our friends.
"Bravo team, focus fire on the grove ahead," I ordered, highlighting the trees on their visors. "We have tree humpers picking us off. Use incendiaries if you have to."
"Bravo One copies," came the detached response. Bravo team hefted their shields and began to advance through our lines, firing at movement in the trees. Hails of arrows flew at each of the soldiers, but the shields they used were titanium, and the arrows either bounced off or shattered. Bravo returned fire, and elvish forms began dropping out of the trees as bullets inevitably found them despite their camouflage.
"Alpha leader, this is Echo Sierra One. We have confirmed presence of dwarves tunneling into our lines on seismograph, over."
"Echo Sierra One, good job, we'll be ready for them. Alpha leader out."
"Mad Dog, this is Alpha Leader," I said into the radio, switching channels. "Eggheads report dwarven tunnels inbound. Get your berserkers ready, over."
"Hahahaha," Mad Dog's voice came through, making me cringe. "We'll be there, big man. This'll be fun!......Out!" I winced as the hooting and hollering began behind our lines. We'd learned the hard way that dwarves were nasty customers up close. Almost as wide as they were tall, they mostly wielded weapons that weighed fifty or sixty pounds a piece, and they loved their shields. We'd eventually hired mercenaries to counter them, and the Berserkers, as they liked to be called, were more than happy to answer. Their answer, it seemed, was grenades, fire, and combat shotguns. Most of the surviving Berserkers liked to wear the beards of the dwarves they killed as trophies.
"Charlie One, Delta One," I said suddenly. "Prepare anti-dragon measures. I want full coverage on east-west. Echo One, Foxtrot One, prepare anti-faerie measures." I tuned their affirmative replies out and focused on figuring out where the leaders would be.
Loud explosions made me look to the east just in time to follow the smoke trails of our surface-to-air rockets which lead to a Great Dragon. The giant beast, half engulfed in smoke and flame, hurtled out of the sky and crashed to the west of our lines. Pained roars made it clear that the great wyrm wasn't quite dead.
All fire dropped off suddenly, and I turned back to see a white flag waving from one of the trees. It fell to the ground, and I watched warily as an extremely old elf walked out of the grove to pick up the flag and put it on his staff. He walked forward, slowly, to stop halfway between our lines.
"All forces hold your fire," I said, standing up. "Do not fire unless ordered or to protect yourself."
I got to my feet, shedding my backpack and putting my assault rifle down. I checked my pistol to ensure it was still there and put a hand on my sword, surreptitiously checking to ensure it would draw smoothly. I walked out of our lines and stopped ten feet from the aged elf.
"You and your kind should not have followed us here," he said sternly, leaning on his staff. "We left you and your kind alive as a kindness. Do not make us angry or you will find out how poor a decision you've made."
"We came here peacefully," I said. "We came to talk and learn from you, and instead we've been attacked."
"We don't want your filthy kind here," the elf sneered. "You have no idea who we are or what we can do."
"I beg to differ," I said, moving my sword to show the elf the pommel. "Your elder brother thought we were garbage to be disposed of too." The old elf recoiled in horror.
"Did you think it a fluke that we were able to sorely wound Terithrika," I asked, jerking my thumb at the wounded dragon. "Listen well, elder brother, because it's time your younger brethren were allowed to speak."
| 2016-12-23T01:29:05 | 2016-12-23T01:15:59 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] As it turns out, the Avatar is still being reborn to this day. Unfortunately, if the government finds the Avatar, they’re killed before they liberate society. The handful of Benders left are few and far between. And you, an introverted Earthbender, just froze the liquid in your cup of tea. | When Avatar Korra was questioned as to how she learned to bend the elements so quickly, she replied, “I think it was like a switch flipped. I just knew.”
The frozen cup of tea in my hand should’ve been cold, mug included. But my hand was *hot*. Not a harmful warmth, but comfortable - like a warm breath caressing my skin.
Without even trying, I knew. I knew that if I just willed it, flame would erupt from my hand.
A certain power began to also fill my lungs, as if reacting to the deep breath I had taken when the tea froze.
Dropping my cup of tea, I put one hand over my mouth, and pinched my nose closed with the other. No matter what, I couldn’t let my breath escape - couldn’t airbend no matter the cost.
As my cup crashed to the floor, I heard my sister Mary cry, “Hey, you okay?”
I couldn’t answer.
A few seconds passed before her feet hit the tile floor and started toward the kitchen. Her voice came from around the corner, “Hey, Ella, what happened?”
As she turned the corner and saw what I was doing, she froze, horror creeping into her expression. Tears began to drip down my cheeks.
“Oh god,” she whispered.
The airbenders had been wiped out twice, the first time by the firebenders, and then a second time by the earthbenders. The science of bending had made leaps and bounds after Korra. The realization that benders were becoming stronger with time made the natural phenomenon easier to study.
My sister moved, her body likely acting ahead of her mind. With one smooth hand motion, she broke the metal sensors placed in the kitchen - things built to detect airbending, and the avatar as an extension. Breaking them would cause a silent alarm to go off, but we wouldn't be stopped by containment foam.
“Breathe!” she said, holding my shoulders.
Releasing my mouth and nose, I started panting, each breath creating a light breeze around me.
“Mary,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry, I- I’m the avatar. I’m-”
She took hold of my arm and pulled me forward. “Come on.”
“What-”
“We’re running.”
“But-” I stopped myself. She knew the risks - what helping the avatar implied. She had likely carried out a few sentences herself as a state bender.
With another wave of her hand, she blew apart the wall of our kitchen, revealing that there was already a few mounds of black dirt outside.
Still dragging me forward, and without breaking pace, she stamped her foot on the ground, causing the three black mounds to melt. Muffled cries came from within them.
Then she stamped again, and the ground bubbled underneath us and erupted forth. With another simple motion of her feet, Mary controlled the earth to carry us forward at high speed.
She looked back at me and gave her best smile. “Come on, cheer up.”
I couldn’t answer.
“We-” She squeezed my hand harder. “There’s supposed to be a White Lotus camp in the north. We just need to get there.”
I nodded once, smiling a little for Mary.
The power of the avatar was described as the power of God once mastered, able to shape continents with a few simple motions. But you’d be hard pressed to find any masters these days, and even harder pressed to find a bender who hadn’t been forced into the Earth Empire’s military.
And as the earth behind us rumbled from the incoming squad of elite benders, I thought of Avatar Aang’s legend.
Maybe, just maybe, we could get through this.
| "It's all just a bunch of superstition, I say." I heard Carla announce over the lunch table.
The talk of the whole "Avatar" has restarted again and I can't say I blame anyone for it happening. One of the kids in Year 1 had been caught throwing rocks around a bit harder than they should have been able to. People found out she was an Earthbender and suddenly she disappeared for a few days before returning back, acting as though the days she'd been gone had never existed.
"Yes, Carla. Tell us all about it." The groan came from a very bored sounding Michael on the other side of the table. If his voice hadn't dripped with enough sarcasm he already looked like his head was ready to fall off his hands onto the table at the next word.
Carla seemed to not notice.
"There's always loads of stories about amazing acts and feats that people have done that no one could have ever done. Like that one who suddenly invented Metalbending. Like, it had never been done ever in the world then suddenly she could and everything was amazing."
"You mean Toffee?" Another voice, Charles sat next to me. He seemed just as bored as Michael.
"Was that the name? I never remember all those stupid history lessons. Anyway, it was more likely that metal just hadn't been invented back then or whatever. People always want some hero they can look up to, someone who can be all amazing and save the world. And back then there was no science or whatever to believe in, so it was all spirits and bending. So you make some magical spirit person who can do all the bending ever, make them able to change faces so there can be a new hero every generation and bam, instant easy legend."
Carla looked pretty pleased with herself until she looked around the table to see Michael having fallen asleep on the table, Charles just watching her with a blank look and me staring down into my drink.
"Ugh, why do I even bother with you people?" She sighed dramatically, slumping down, crossing her arms and leaning across the table so that she took up over half of it.
"Because you'd never fit in anywhere else?" Charles smirked, ruffling her hair up with a quick motion.
The energy of the table quickly returned, Carla jumping up in anger, starting to chase Charles around the cafeteria with Michael having woken up enough to watch and cheer them on.
I meanwhile just stared further into my cup. Only half of me had ever really been listening.
The little girl that vanished for a few days, she was an Earthbender, like me. Not that I make a big deal out of it. Not much use being a bender these days, you stand out too much and get outcasted pretty quickly if you try to flaunt it.
But they hadn't looked twice when there was that nursery that burned down a couple of months back when some toddler and a candle got too close to each other.
They were looking for an Earthbender for some reason.
The chill that went down my spine flowed down my arms until crystals started to appear around the rim of my cup.
Wait.
No.
...
This was going to be interesting... | 2018-01-21T12:36:55 | 2018-01-21T12:20:10 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | Vezemir stepped out of the carriage. The sun was not fully set, but the sky was overcast enough that he only felt a slight itch as he strode quickly across the street. Glendale Graves was quiet today, but then it usually was. It would be a strange sight to see a coffin-maker busy.
As he approached, Vezemir saw Druig standing at the door, locking up. Vezemir raised a hand to catch his eye. The old man grinned at him, flipping the "Closed" sign on the door back around to "Open."
A small bell dinged as Vezemir pushed to door open. Druig clapped him on the back and ushered him inside.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon. What do you need?"
Vezemir smiled at the old man. "This is more of a social call, old friend," he said. "I understand you're retiring soon."
Druig's smile fell a few inches as he stepped behind the counter. "Aye, my hands aren't what they used to be." He glanced down at his hands and sighed. "Can barely hold a hammer properly some days." Then he glanced up at Vezemir again. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're here for."
Vezemir raised an eyebrow. "I just want to pay my respects to a great craftsman. My family loves your work, you've done such a great job in the past to... honor our dearly departed."
Druig snorted. "Vez, I know what you are. You only ever show up at night, you almost always overpay, and I'll be honest, some of your family are pretty terrible at hiding it. A few months ago, Morana insisted on 'testing the casket out.'" He shook his head. "She fell asleep in it for almost two hours."
"W-Well, I'll admit we may be a touch eccentric, but-"
Vezemir's stammering was cut off by Druig pointing behind him. Vezemir glanced over his shoulder at the huge window in the front of the shop. The darkness outside caused the glass to reflect the interior. He could see Druig staring smugly back at him, with no sign of himself.
"You're here to offer me immortality." Druig spoke softly. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.
Slowly, Vezemir nodded. "Only if you wish for it."
Druig smiled sadly. "Vezemir, I'm tired. I've been doing this for almost fifty years. I've made coffins for the elderly, for soldiers, for children..." he paused, his smile slipping from his face. "For my wife."
Vezemir placed one hand gently on top of Druig's. "You don't have to be, though," he said. "The blood doesn't just prolong your life. It will revitalize you, make you feel like a young man again." He barrelled on, diving into his sales pitch. "You could join our family. We would make sure you never wanted for anything ever again. You could live in luxury for eternity."
Druig frowned, pulling his hand free. "All I want is to rest, and to see Isolde again." he turned away. "You can't give me that."
The silence stretched between the two men, until Vezemir spoke.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... It's been a long time since I was human. I forget, sometimes, what it's like to be mortal. If there is anything at all that we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."
Druig glanced back at him. "Thanks, Vez. There is one thing that would be nice."
&#x200B;
*One year later*
The priest had never seen a funeral like this. It was strange enough that the coffin-maker had asked for it to be held at night. But he hadn't expected this kind of turnout. Of course, there was his family. A son and daughter, both with their own children, as well as a few friends.
What confused the priest were the others. A veritable army of men and women had filed into the chapel, all dressed in ornate attire, each one offering their heartfelt condolences to the family. Something about these people unnerved the priest. They felt... wrong somehow. As if they shouldn't be there. For a moment, he considered telling them to leave, but then he saw the family.
Generally, coffin-makers weren't the most social people. Dealing in death so much, it was hard for them to make friends in work. Yet as more and more of these strange people filed into the chapel, and approached the coffin-maker's children, the priest saw something come over them.
Their faces changed from the expected look of a pair of grieving children to something akin to pride. After all, for so many important looking people to value their father so highly, he must have been a great man indeed.
*Well, I suppose it does make sense*, the priest thought. *After all, a man whose life's work was honoring the dearly departed deserves to be honored in kind.* | *DING*
I look up from my catlogue as a customer enters my shop
In front of me stands a woman who has never failed to take my breath away, 40 years of business and she's still just as gorgeous as the first tiem she came through those doors, I guess the rich really do age differently than the rest of us
She's been a regular customer, runs a ritzy funeral home out on the...well im pretty sure its the north end of the city..though it might be the south. Funny how some details just never come up in conversation. But any time she shows up in person I know its going to be a good order, bought my last car in cash from a double wide that was commissioned
"Hello Meredith, its been a while, and here i was thinking people were dying to get their hands on *cough* one of my beauties" I say with a wink
"Your creations are an art that transcend death my good friend" Merry says as she Saunters to the counter
"So what can I do for you this time? I just got a new catalog in and it has a memory *cough* foam liner that you might be interested in. Unless this is for a family of the customer and comfort *cough* isn't a top priority?"
"That is quite the cough there, have you been to a doctor? And no, this is more a pleasure visit as you are right your customers have been fairly dead set on sticking with your works, this one is personal" says Merry as she leans in close enough for me to smell her perfume
I take a subtle sniff or try to as *COUgh* the perfume triggers another couhing fit
"Ah, Merry im sorry to say I have been and have equally sorry news, the doctors say its *cough* seasonal, but I hear them whispering in the back about a *cough* growth. I'm afraid they may be keeping something from me. I think the doctor is *cough* worried I won't finish their order if I have a limited window of time left. A shame really as a timeline would be nice to work with so I don't *cough* leave any works incomplete." I say with a dejected tone
"Ah, my friend, don't be so glum, the doctor actually mentioned something to me.. and as we don't know anyone else who's crafts are as well built and knows how to.. work their wood so well" she says in a flirting manner and with a sly wink on the end "I've come with an offer of my own." She finishes as she begins to move around the counter to stand near me, a hungry look in her eyes
"Merry, we have know eachother for a long time and we've had our fun but I'm dying and frankly I don't have the energy I used to, though the offer is greatly appreciated" I retort in as light hearted a tone as I can muster, here i am dying and merry wants to take a roll in the box like the good old days.. shit. Why am I saying no? What do I have to loose at this point?
"Haha, can't blame a girl for trying" she says as she plays with my shirt collar "but thats not the offer I came to make. I just really like when your blood get pumping" she says as she moves closer and that hungry look in her eyes grows even more alluring
"Whats the offer then?" I as as I try to keep some level of composure as Merry leans in close, her scent overwhelming my senses
"We want you to join us, silly" she says running her fingers down the side of my face her tongue ever so slightly tracing along her top lip "we don't want to loose the best bed maker we've net in our many years, and frankly I've come to be quite fond of your humor around death, most humans are squeamish" she says with a chuckle and a finger trailing along my jaw to rest on the end of my chin as she lifts it us to make us look eye to eye
"I can make you better than you have been for the last 30 years. I can give you back your prime and you can join us, we'll teach you what you don't know yet and all I need you to do is say" she leans in closer and whispers the final word "yes" as her lips kiss lightly on my neck
Ah, well she definitely got my blood pumping, I could barely follow what she said as I tried not to cough, but say yes? Yeah I can do that.
"Yes" | 2022-05-31T11:05:33 | 2022-05-31T10:21:18 | 726 | 230 |
[WP] whenever a baby is born the parents can assign them their skill points, everyone has 10 points. Strength, agility, intelligence, charm, luck, constitution, special. No one really knows what special does, until your parents put all 10 points into it | I looked over the edge another time - it seemed higher than it was just earlier.
Taking a step back, I curled up into a ball and sat on the floor of the rooftop. It was cold.
Jen warned me this would happen. She was the only I3Ch0 I knew, but something told me they were all like that; giving you information and not caring about how it made people feel. She told me that only 1 out of 13 people who contemplated suicide actually go through with it. Only 1 out of 29 who go to a rooftop to jump actually leap to their death after seeing how fucking scary it was. And something about our bodies self-preservation mode kicking in and flooding our minds with stay-the-fuck-alive signals.
Well, she was right. Half-right, at least. It was a long way down;
the people along the street were just tiny dots. The hot dog stand at the corner of Boon's Avenue looked like a tiny umbrella on a fancy drink.
I reminded myself why I was here. I couldn't take it anymore. My life was a nightmare.
For as long as I could remember, life had been terrible. I was the lousiest person in every room, an outcast. Loser didn't even begin to describe it. A 15-year old pariah.
I had to watch as my friends excelled in school. Blake enjoyed his domination in sports as an SA3; Jen breezing through her classes. Haley was the most popular in school and most likely to go on to become some bullshit politician making stupid decisions in national policy - she had 5 in charm and was I0. Her parents gave her L3 so she's probably set for life.
And me? I was the first person in the history of the universe to have dumbass parents put all 10 in S. I like to believe they thought it would result in something good, great even.
I wouldn't know, they left before I turned 5 years old. 10S turned out to be a total scam.
I never found out what it meant and it never gave me any sort of advantage in any fucking thing in my entire life. I was always the weaker, dumber, unluckier person in every situation I found myself in. My health was also deteriorating, unlike the Co pointers with their flawless, unfailing bodies.
I tried to make it work. I did. I worked harder than everybody else, but the system was rigged. I failed my classes and couldn't outrun the slowest A1's in my school. Even the girls.
And so I came to this rooftop. I liked this rooftop. It always smelled like it just rained, and it was quiet and I was always alone with my thoughts.
I stood up and walked to the edge again. I emptied my mind and jumped off. I was falling, and time seemed to slow down. I did it.
That'll show Jen.
And then I wasn't falling.
I looked around and found myself suspended in the mid-air, arms high and legs spread. Did I die while falling? I looked down and saw that I was still a good 12 floors high. The hot dog stand was a hot dog stand again, and I could see the neon glow from its sign.
And in the next moment, I was suddenly on top of the roof again. I blinked, and realized I was holding my breath. What the FUCK just happened?
I was ready to end it all. Could I not end it all?
Could I not end my shitty excuse of a life?
Was I... immortal? | “If you’re strong you can force your way on most things. if you’re agile you can avoid almost anything. Intelligence equips you with know how to overcome challenging situations. Charm? It opens many doors. You can outlast anything with enough constitution and to be special is to be one of a kind. Being lucky however...”
It was a string of good luck that enabled Ben to live the life he’s always dreamed of. To own his own business at so young, to have it thrive despite unfavorable conditions and to manage it with the resources afforded to him is nothing short of miraculous. People have always wondered how someone so unremarkable could accomplish so much. Ben was a walking enigma.
From a distance he looked like an overgrown boy, and about as strong as one. His movements, both physical and mental could be accurately described as glacial. He was constantly sick, barely clinging on the side of health to be considered alive and his effect on others could also be described as sickening. A truly unremarkable, slightly unnerving childlike adult is how you could encompass almost all that Ben was. The rest would be the owner of the most successful Paper company in the digital age.
More likely to eat paper rather than sell it, Ben has somehow managed to earn his fortune selling it in a world that has almost no need for it. It is a dying industry, with the internet replacing letters, news and books while plastic and other materials replacing paper as a medium to wrap anything in. Smart men left the paper business long ago. Ben loved it so much he doubled down on it. The same smart men counted what little pennies they had, Ben couldn’t spend a fraction of his fortune in a hundred human lifetimes.
How could this possibly be? How did the impossible become possible? Disaster you could say, and lots of it are Ben’s best friend.
Unnatural weather patterns and the scarcity of fossil fuels caused havok around the world as electricity became harder and harder to produce. If it was available it become prohibitively expensive, with 10’s of millions of people unable to power anything. Correspondence the old fashioned way become in vogue. People wrote more letters, published more books and the news came in rolls on people’s doorsteps. The unlikelihood of the entire world going back in time almost 200 years became reality. For a man living out of his time, Ben somehow cornered a market when there wasn’t one. It was as if fate itself intervened... and it made him a rich man.
“Being lucky enables you to be anything and everything. You only need to be there. The world takes care of the rest” Ben’s dad once told him as he learned that his parents gambled his entire life on being lucky, literally investing all the points he had on only one thing. And boy did it pay off. | 2020-10-03T04:42:41 | 2020-10-03T03:25:57 | 2,139 | 82 |
[WP] The Tester is neither hero nor villain, he gauges the abilities of various hero's and villains by fighting them and/or giving them challenges and then awards them a report card which is published online for all to see. Many begin to fret and worry about their performance like college students. | "Oh god, it was today?!"
The 7-foot tall muscular monstrosity before me began to quiver. A look of absolute fear dashed across his face.
It was "test day", as they seem to have called it, and once again I seem to have caught a prospective Super unprepared. I don't understand how this keeps happening, as we schedule this at least a month in advance.
I pull my reading glasses from the inner pocket of my twill blazer.
"Mr...'Thundercrash', was it?" I asked, checking my notes. "Do you need to reschedule this appoinment? Please note that would neg-"
"NO! Please, I-I'm ready!" the trembling Super interjected. "Let's head outside."
While I don't normally judge heroes or villains on costumes, I have to say that "Thundercrash's" pajamas were not painting a very great picture of how the test would go. I had heard through the online forums that he was one of the best heroes in the city, but now my interest was waning.
I began my standard test preface: "As you know, the Capital City Super Assessment is a three part test to properly gauge the effectiveness of a hero or villain. The three parts consist of Entrance/Transformation, Daily Activity, and Combat Skills. We will first start with your Entrance or Transformation, then gauge your Combat Skills and end the day with observing your day-to-day heroic or devious acts. Seeing as you, Thundercrash, have selected to be a hero, I will remind you that your actions today must show me restraint and caution around civilians. Are you ready to begin?"
Beads of sweat dripped down the large brow of the hero. We are standing 20 feet away, but I can hear his heart pounding out of his chest. The only thing out of his mouth he is able to muster is a cracked "Yeah."
"Alright then," I say, "when you're ready, please head in to the road and demonstrate your Entrance."
Nervously, he quickly walks in to the road. Once there, he turns back to look at me.
A minute goes by.
"Mr. Thundercrash, is there a problem?" I wonder if he had been paying attention, so I remind him, "You may begin now."
A quick look of embarrassment overtakes the man. "Oh, sorry! Okay, I'm starting!"
A dark thundercloud appears in the sky above us. The air suddenly becomes electric as static energy pulls at my arm hair. Thundercrash's eyes turn fully white. He spreads his feet, raises two fists in to the air, and cries out "HERE COMES THE THUNDER!"
While I've seen many lightning storms and other Super based light powers, the bolt of lightning that came down and struck the hero was by far the most impressive I've ever seen. I even had to shield my eyes. And the noise, so loud! I was certainly impressed by the power on display. Many villains will definitely dread hearing him arriving on the scene. But as my vision and hearing came back, any notion of being impressed quickly turned sour.
Before me was a scene of destruction. A glittering sea of glass, every car on the block honking angrily, and half-naked hero face down in the street. I say half-naked, but really he's only got on his "signature" boots and gloves. He's alive, but unconscious. Clearly he, much like other Supers these days, let the "test" get the better of them and misuse their power.
This is going to be a long day. | My partners and I have been known by many names throughout the ages. The dingir. The parthenon. The Aegir. Devas. Yahweh. Allah. The holy Trinity.
We interact with the living wherever they reside, and experience every culture. None are correct, but all touch a sliver of the truth. We are neither omnipotent nor omniscient. However, we do not live or die as mortals do. What we can be summarized as is... challengers.
We challenge the living. Why? Not for the reason you assume. It is not a gauge for the afterlife.
That grand-slam you hit to win the big game? You are the one who performed and achieved that feat for yourself, but we "set-the-stage," so to speak.
That chronic illness that took your mother from you as a teenager? She chose those poor decisions that lead to her condition, but yes, we cultivated the opportunities for her to make the choices that she did.
That technical glitch that reset your electronic college application instead of submit it an hour before the deadline? Yes, that was us.
Those nervous butterflies frivolously fluttering in your stomach prior to your first date with your crush? Yup, we planted those there.
Whether you believe you can do something or believe that you can't, you are right. Challenge does not reveal character, but builds it.
The joy of that grand-slam rewards you for the countless hours of training and practice you adhered to. It motivates you to continue striving for success.
The despair of losing a parent is meant to teach the value of ALL interpersonal connections and making the most of them every day. Struggling against a seemingly endless tide of depression develops fortitude and can highlight meaningful members and aspects of your life.
The anxiety of that last-minute scramble to successfully apply to your "reach" university before the deadline cultivates your ability to work under pressure and is also meant to educate you on the potential risks of procrastination.
The nervousness and excitement of a first date helps you develop interpersonal relationships and your ability to portray yourself to others.
We challenge. We challenge to develop you into the hero, or villain, of your own story. Different cultures uphold various values of the human condition, but each of you feel our touch on your lives deep within yourselves.
With the advent of the internet, humans are now more connected than ever. To each other, to ideologies, and more importantly, to a false reality. You are becoming disconnected with the world around you.
In an effort to combat these alterations, we have started posting ratings of certain challenges on our own domain, www.liferate.terra. Only modest challenges are being posted, to hopefully reacquaint you with the people and living beings that surround you. Did you know of that site? No? Nonetheless, we challenged you many times throughout your life.
Now, let us reflect on your journey before you decide on what happens next... | 2019-10-16T10:00:02 | 2019-10-16T08:51:34 | 199 | 16 |
[WP] You're a lawyer, who died of a heart attack while in court. Turns out legal battles also get you into Valhalla. | It was the last case of my career. I knew it then, but I didn't know yet just how immediately final it was going to be.
It was a tough case. Teenage kid, sweet-as-sin mother. The mother had a doctor or test or to justify dozens of medical procedures on this girl from the time she was five to fourteen. And all of it was true, to an extent. The girl did have brittle bones and blood disorders and this constant, inexplicable damage in her stomach that brought her screaming into the ER hundreds of times.
She was being treated like a case study because she was the president's daughter.
But I knew the truth. It wasn't a rare disease.
I knew it because she told me. Urgently, when she first called my office and begged for help, a guardian ad litem, something.
"*I'm not sick,*" she said. "*It's my mother. She's poisoning me.*"
You can always tell in someone's voice, when they're lying. And that girl sounded as honest and terrified as a newborn. I wanted to scoop her up, count her as one of the grandkids, and take her away from all of this.
This trial was the closest I could get.
It was all over headlines, instantly: POTUS's DAUGHTER CLAIMS FIRST LADY IS POISONING HER
The president's wife played innocent, of course. She was the one calmly and patiently reassuring journalists that a side effect of her poor daughters medicine was psychotic delusions.
"She doesn't even know I'm the one helping her," her mother said, "the poor dear."
The first day of the trial, the president's wife welcomed me warmly and pulled me into a cold, brittle embrace, like hugging a dead butterfly. She told me, "I'm so grateful you're indulging Grace's little tantrum. She simply wouldn't be able to accept her condition without this."
But then she leaned closer. Her fingers dug into my shoulder as she murmured low in my ear. "I hope you come to the right conclusion for the well-being of us all."
I stared at the secret service agents flanking her and wondered if I would be the first civilian they quietly killed.
"I hope so too, Madam First Lady," I said.
I knew even then that it was dangerous. I was looking at the most powerful man in the world and telling him there was horrible abuse occurring in the greatest building in this land.
And we both knew I was right.
The trial was a news storm, of course. There were a bizarre couple of weeks where I had my own goddamn paparazzi snapping pictures of me getting lunch at the restaurant across from the courthouse.
But I've been doing this work for 46 years, and I'm not liable to lose my composure because of a few reporters and flashing lights.
Thanks to the high-profile witnesses and accused, the court was closed to everyone except those of us necessary to put this whole show on the road. No audience. No cameras. The outside world caught snatches of rumors through anonymous jury members, the courtroom painter, and nothing more.
On the last day of trial, I woke with the strange and hazy feeling of a man facing the last day of a very long road, with no idea which direction to take next. I was always a workaholic. Never good at hobbies.
As I dressed in my hotel room, an envelope appeared under my door. The deliverer was gone when I put my head out. But when I opened it, I found a picture of my hotel window, apparently taken through a rifle scope. It was me from only ten minutes ago, buttoning up my shirt.
The threat was clear enough.
But I had looked that girl in the eye and sworn I'd do everything I could for her. No matter what.
"I make things right again, as well as I can," I told her. "That's my job."
When she gave me that hopeful little smile, she looked so much like my granddaughter, my heart was split between rage and despair.
So I walked into that courtroom with my head held high. I gave the best damn final testimony of my career.
The jury didn't need more than an hour to deliberate.
I remember sitting in the courtroom, watching the jury coming out. I remember holding that little girls hand so tightly and smoothing my thumb over hers, over and over, because there was no parent but me to tell her that it was all going to be okay.
A jury member stood up to read the verdict.
And the world went a little... Soft, for me. I remember the girl saying, "Mr. York? Are you okay?" but she sounded so dreamy and distant and my entire left side was freezing and seizing up and I felt my head hit the table.
I watched the rest of it from outside my body. I felt horrible. Another trauma among traumas for that girl as she stood back, weeping, so thin she's mostly bone, and all I wanted to do was protect her.
A woman appeared beside me then. She wore golden armor, which seemed strange, but no more strange than suddenly finding myself standing outside my body.
"You fought valiantly," she told me.
I watched my limp body and my law partner held the girl as she staggered back in shock for the EMTs to rush in.
"Seems like a silly way to die," I say. The word lodged in my throat, but I didn't show it.
"We all die how we must." She gestured over her shoulder and a pair of wings unfurled from her back. "Shall we go?"
"Are you an angel?"
"Oh, I'm much better than that." She winked and said, "I'm a Valkyrie."
I remembered the old illustrated Norse mythology book from my childhood and just shook my head. "The old stories are real then, eh? I thought Valhalla was for warriors."
"It is. Warriors who go into battle knowing they may die and lose, and yet go anyway."
I looked at the girl and at the jury, then at my own empty face.
I whispered, "I don't feel like a warrior."
"To her you do."
The girl was just huddled there, hugging herself. She had stood so tall when we walked into this courtroom, like she too had armored herself for battle.
"Do you know?" I said. "Did I win?"
"Go look for yourself."
And I, ghostlike, walked to the jury stand. I leaned over the shoulder of the woman who was holding the official documentation.
Guilty, guilty, guilty.
The ceiling glowed golden over us.
"Are you ready?" the Valkyrie asked.
I tipped back my head. The corners of my eyes were hot and I knew should have been sad to die, but I wasn't. I was 72 years old. I'd lived to do exactly what I needed to do.
Have my career. Raise my family. Live to meet this girl who so badly needed someone on her side. Fight one final war.
I nodded and smiled and said, "Let's see if it lives up to the books, eh?"
The Valkyrie lifted me up, into the unknown.
°°°
Thank you for reading :D | "Wait, wait, wait, wait," I started as the man bellowed something at me. I hadn't caught what he'd said, but he was built like he built brick houses and then ate them. He was holding out an impossibly muscled arm to help me off of the freezing ground. "What is going on?!"
"You have joined us!" He said with a smile that was supposed to be welcoming. You earned a glorious death and were burned in the proper ways," he pulled a horn off of his belt as I accepted his hand. "Now you may fight for eternity!" He blew into the horn, and a chorus of cheers echoed over the white around me.
Wait. It was white. It had been black since I'd died.
WAIT. I DIED?!
"Warrior! Eyes up!" the man who'd blown the horn called before unshackling a battleaxe the size of a Honda Civic off of his belt. He took a moment to unshackle a small dagger on his belt and tossed it to me.
I jumped out of the way.
"You're going to need that warrior," the man said with a hearty chuckle. "Trust me."
"Are you God?" I asked.
"Odin's not my father! My Dad's on the other side today!" The man raised his axe and charged into the white. The ground was shaking. Why was the ground shaking?
What was-
The fog faded away for a moment, and all I saw was a mass of writhing bodies, gleaming metal and pouring blood.
"Jesus Christ," I said, taking a step away and leaning down to pick up the dagger I'd been tossed.
"WELCOME, BOY!" came a call from behind me. I started standing straight up to turn around, and the last thing I felt was the axe in the back of my neck.
\---
I snapped my eyes open with the feeling of steel fresh in my neck. I opened my mouth to scream, but I wasn't being attacked anymore. I- it must have been a dream. A horrifying, deadly dream.
That said, this definitely wasn't my suite in Manhattan, and this absolutely wasn't my bed. What had happened during that tri-
There was a brutal pounding at the door, with each pound hitting like a battering ram. I sat up stock straight, and suddenly, I felt the best I'd ever felt in my life. No back pain; my knee wasn't doing that weird thing. Heck, my neck wasn't even stiff.
The door cracked open after a polite amount of pounding, and the massive golem of a man that I'd seen in my dream earlier stepped into the room. That means- Holy shit, that had been real. I died. I'd been killed. Wait- He said I'd died to get to the place where I lost my head, so did that mean I'd died twi-
"Aye, ya made it, man," the behemoth said in a voice that felt like a warm hug when it wasn't used for battle cries, "I recognize that look."
"Utter confusion?" I asked.
"Aye, some people aren't confident that their death was glorious enough to enter these halls. It's quite an adjustment-" the man surveyed my room, stroking his lengthy but immaculately kept beard as he did. "A bit boring, ain't it?"
"What?" I asked as I almost sprang out of bed. When was the last time I'd been this lithe? "I am-"
"Did your family not send your trophies with you?" he asked. "A warrior without his-" he took a deep breath and shook his head, "a sad sight to see."
"My trophies?" I asked. Like middle school soccer?
"Aye, yer trophies are back home if they didn't come to Valhalla with ya," he crossed his arms and looked at the bare walls, "I have a few that I keep in a chest because I ain't got room to hang em, may-"
"Wait," I cut him off once I caught up with what he'd been saying. "Valhalla? That Viking place?"
"Aye," he said, "though you calling us the Vikings makes me think you're an Englishman."
"We're both speaking English," I pointed out, "but I'm Canadian."
"Lad, we're speaking the God's tongue," he said, "and I don't know what a Canadian is, but it sounds better than an Englishman."
"Thanks," I said. Wait a second. We were getting way too into the weeds about this. Was I really in fucking Valhalla? "Am I really in?"
"Aye, ya made it."
"I-" I flopped back down onto the bed and took a deep breath. I had been asked for a Viking burial as a joke, and my brother had promised me he'd do it. How did I die? I remembered the courtroom, the Murder Trial for the Jenkin's Twins, but- "I died?"
"Aye, struck down from behind," the massive man scoffed, "though Brigmar did shout to let you know he was comin'."
"Wh-" Want to know what? I was going to let him talk. I wasn't about to get anywhere with stupid questions.
"Aye, ya died quick in the battle. No man wants to win by surprise, but if you don't turn around, I'm not sure what he was supposed to do-" he stomped over to my bed, looming over me and holding out the same friendly had that had been my first sight upon arriving here. "Now come on, there are lots about people who want to meet you."
"Me?" I asked.
"Of course," he grabbed my arm and yanked me up before I'd had a proper chance to extend it. "Nobody new has arrived in these halls for over 300 years."
"Valhalla?" I asked.
"The realm of the Gods themselves."
I shook my head; This was fucked up, this was so fucked up. I- Maybe it was better than eternal blackness; I was pretty afraid of the dark.
"The name's Thalmor," the goliath said as he pushed open my door, "yours?"
"Malcolm," I answer.
"Malcolm?" he asked like it was a stranger name than Thalmor. "That can work. I'm glad to fight by your side, Malcolm of Valhalla."
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
*If you know you know,* /r/jacksonwrites | 2021-04-28T17:15:43 | 2021-04-28T14:54:01 | 3,366 | 185 |
[WP] Every few decades, the world experiences a Narrative Shift. A while back it was Film Noir, and now is the Age of Heroes. Everyone dreads the upcoming Horror genre. | She was alert, perceptive, a little on edge; most raised during the Film Noir age were, since the mysterious death of a child was a well-worn trope of that genre. The hard-boiled PI had to have a reason for being disillusioned, down-on-his-luck, and perpetually drunk.
That she was just in the age range to remember film noir and its lessons had served her well in the Age of Superheroes, too. Girls just a few years younger than her had grown up with the knowledge that some superbeing would swoop in and save the day if they were ever in real danger. When they grew up, they were stuck in that mindset: the superheroes were, well, heroes. They adored them. They worshipped them. And so they dated the heroes - and ended up fridged.
That was one of the key lessons: Don't date anyone with protagonist syndrome. Another? Don't be anyone with protagonist syndrome, unless you wanted to end up with all your loved ones dead. Being part of the crowd, a background figure, was grating; no one liked feeling like a secondary character in their own life. But it meant you actually got to live.
And then the next genre: Horror.
Fuck.
She needed to start prepping, stat. Pick up jogging, buy a gun, stock the apartment with improvised weapons. She needed to get rid of any alcohol and drugs. Break it off with the guy from accounting she had just started dating.
The time of being a background character was over. She was going to be the final girl. | We thought it'd be the age of killers, the horror genre.
We were wrong.
"Howdy, new pals!"
There were hordes of monsters standing before us, holding weapons the size of a large television.
And they were all holding gifts and food.
A voice piped up from the humans: "Shouldn't you be killing us?"
A 10-foot tall clown in the back spoke back: "Goodness no! If we killed you all, no other genre could have their turn!"
"But what happens when the narrative shifts again?"
Cthulhu, not having spoken since they got here, decided to answer: "Then we jutht go home. It'th not like we don't have our own dimenthion!"
Out of the whole event, it's possible that the most surprising thing was Cthulhu's lisp. | 2020-12-19T10:48:55 | 2020-12-19T10:25:49 | 102 | 39 |
[WP] Every night in your sleep you meet a successful-looking future you who tells you what you should do the next day. So far your life has gone well indeed, but one day you fall asleep during the daytime. You meet a tired, disheveled version of yourself who begs you not to listen to the other. | *So... this is my life now* I thought while looking at the man that *kind of* looked like me.
It all started several years ago; one night while sleeping a man showed up in my dream, he had a black suit, a well maintained hair and the rest of his appearance screamed "success" in a way only rich powerful men managed to. He claimed to be my future self and told me he would visit me every night to make sure I had the future he represented.
It was just a weird dream the first time, but then it happened again, and again and again. Eventually I started to follow his advice and I was immediately rewarded by it; I got every promotion I wanted, got every women I desired and every service I needed. Life was good and I was only to abide to one rule "Never, *ever*, sleep during the day".
As with every story in the history of ever that had a forbidden action, the past repeated itself; one particular day that mixed a very late night, few hours of sleep and having the cold I fell sleep on the couch while watching TV. Future self presented himself again, just that this time he didn't look much like he used to.
He had a beard, a long and wild beard that had remains of food in it, all his face was covered in scars and sweat with a long hair that didn't match up with the bald spot on his head, though it did match with his body odor. He looked at me with blood injected eyes and the look of someone who's seen more suffering that he can take.
"Don't listen to the man in the suit!" I remember him telling me "He isn't trying to help you!"
I laughed and asked why should I take advice from such a pitiful man.
"I am not the one who gives advice. I'm the one who gives the warnings" he responded and faded away.
After that I woke up and thought nothing of it, just some bad dream brought by my untrusting subconscious. Life went on, I kept on winning on everything I put my mind (and my good friend's help) into. My last big quest was getting a billionaire business moving, and as was expected I succeeded.
After the celebration party I had my usual meeting in my dream. Future me looked incredible happy, as he should be since I had finally become what he wanted me to be.
"It took incredible time and effort, but you did it" he congratulated me "From now on you wont need me since you're finally *me*" he said while he offered me his hand for a final shake.
I shook his hand vigorously while thanking him for making me who I was, he put his other hand over my own and said "...though I'm surprised you didn't listen to your daylight version, most people do..." he said while smiling, a yellow flash in his eyes "... big mistake".
And then he was me, not in the future as how I've been seeing him so far but me *me*. A wicked smile on my, not, his face and he disappeared. And just like that I was alone, locked in a dream that looked a lot more grim and dark that I usually remembered it.
I've been trying to escape ever since, but there's only one way...
*So this is my life now...* I thought while looking at the *young* man that *kind of* looked like me. "Hello..." I said while straightening my spotless suit "I am your future self".
*Edit*: Wow, thanks guys. This is the first time I write something on this sub and I was nervous as hell. Thanks for the amazing feedback. I'll hang out here more often.
| This is the first time I've seen myself like this. Desperate and lonely looking like I have had nothing to eat and no sleep. The soot on my face and dirt in my fingernails makes it look like I've been busy, but definitely not with any luxury that I'm used to.
There's a sad desperation in this future self as he asks me not to continue with the night time requests. I'm ready to shrug it off as things have been going so well. Maybe this is just what happens if my sleep patterns change. I have read about creating alternate realities by changing subtle things in life. Maybe this is like that. I'll just go back to the routine.
This new me can tell that I am disinterested, probably remembering back himself. He grabs me by the arm and tells me not to listen, as I wasn't going to anyway, but instead to carry on in the dream to see a reveal of what the night advice would lead to if I continued to follow it.
He stood still as the dreamscape started to change to what seemed to be the current day. It felt like years just passed through me in seconds, and I was now seeing what I had for breakfast. This was some advice that was given to me last night; to eat a decent breakfast high in carbs as later it would come in handy. Then something happened, which felt real, like I had felt it before. I skipped time to observe myself just after my nap - the one I am currently in.
I wasn't sure if this was real, how could it be as it's just a dream. I'm in control of what I do by making choices. There's no way i could see what would happen until I make that choice.
Time skipped again. This time to later on in the day, where i could see myself running. Then again, to my business meeting. The skips seemed to be getting quicker in succession. Before i had a chance to think I had skipped more than a year into the future. Things looked great still. I'm single, rich and powerful. What could possibly go wrong?
The dream continued. I saw the rise of my business that held and provided resources for people to use to pursue business goals. The company won awards for being a great asset to society. I got married. I cheated. I got divorced.
The time skips started to slow down. I could see protests outside the head offices of my company. News headlines of giant corporations being merged into mine. We held all of the major assets. I could see even governments were frightened of the control that my corporation had. There was nothing they could do. We were taking control of all of the worlds assets.
Time skips stop. I'm back in the original dreamscape. With my future self.
He lets go of my arm.
'You have looked into the future to see where all your knowledge and given foresight have come to summation. You do not want to see what comes next.'
I wake up. | 2017-04-01T05:31:50 | 2017-04-01T01:47:46 | 1,750 | 109 |
[WP] Your father left your family when you were a child to "go buy a pack of cigarettes". It is 10 years later and you're a teenager when your father walks back in, wearing the same clothes he left in, and insists he has only been gone half an hour. | Item number: SCP-711-J
Object class: Euclid
Containment Procedures: A fence is to be established around SCP-711-J, to prevent unauthorized entry. Construction equipment is to be moved and operated in order to maintain the appearance of an active construction zone. No access to SCP-711-J is permitted. In the event that a human enters SCP-711-J, they are to be presumed lost.
When an human emerges from SCP-711-J, reintegration procedure Delta-711-J is to be initiated.
Description: SCP-711-J is the former site of a 7-11 located in [REDACTED]. Upon entry by a human, the human will disappear from outside view, to reappear between five and ten years later. All subjects are under the impression that time proceeded normally while inside SCP-711-J, giving approximate times between 5 and 15 minutes experienced in SCP-711-J. There currently seems to be no correlation between external and internal experienced time.
SCP-711-J was brought to the attention of the Foundation by [REDACTED], after their father returned after being absent for over ten years, while the father reports only having left his house half an hour ago. Subsequent polygraph tests revealed both statements to be true.
In addition to the persons trapped in SCP-711-J, the vehicles that these people drove to SCP-711-J also disappear and reappear at the same time as the subject. As such, great care is to be taken to never stand in parking spaces, or near gas pumps.
The number of persons trapped inside the anomalous effect of SCP-711-J is currently unknown. As such, the structure of SCP-711-J must be maintained for the safety of all trapped humans.
Reintegration procedure Delta-711-J: This particular 7-11 began business in 1993. As such, all information of events over the past several years must be presented in a calm, orderly fashion to any humans exiting SCP-711-J. In addition, marital and financial issues may be present. The Foundation should provide reasonable legal support, and lodging. | "Who are you and why are you in my house?"
Was his response to seeing me after ten years. I was speechless, he came home after so many years, after HE left us and thats his response to seeing his son in ten fucking years?
He looked around in confusion at the house. Mom stayed at the bar, like always and I didnt have enough time to clean since, well the unwelcomed intruder came in.
"Answer me or ill call the police!" He shouted, his voice shaking "What did you do to my family?"
The situation seemed to unbeliveable I almost started laughing, he even wore the same shirt the day he went missing.
"You gotta be joking right? You no longer live here and I want you to get out." After I finaly got enough compousre to muster this words he finally took a good look at me, confused before he understood who stood before him.
"It cant be.. Shawn? What the he-" he stopped himself and finaly seemed to notice my cold look.
"God I thought she... Shawn you gotta belive me I didnt want to leave you! Someone gave me a-" before he could finish, he vanished. Again.
"Is it done?" I Asked the figure standing in the shadows as it nodded.
"Good. I hope the son of a bitch suffer there. I cant let him hurt us anymore"
This my first submission and while its pretty terrible any criticsm is welcome | 2018-11-08T05:36:04 | 2018-11-08T03:55:51 | 562 | 33 |
[WP] You're having a New Year's Eve party. It's a bonfire. You and your friend take your drinks out to the lake, behind the house. You ask what his New Year resolution will be. He says, "Have you heard about those killings around here?" You say, "Yeah." He says, "I've got to stop doing that." | I laughed, about to take another sip of wine when I registered his solemn silence. My laugh faded and I became extremely still, shocked at what I just heard and at a lost for what I should do next.
"You would think it feels good. But it really doesn't". He broke the silence, after a pause that felt like an eternity.
"I don't enjoy it. But nothing else excites me quite as much".
I put down my wine glass, trying to hide my quivering hand from his line of sight.
"So you're saying that to you, k--killing people is the least boring thing to do".
"Well, I'm sure there are plenty of other people who feel the same except they're too much of cowards to actually do it".
*He's delusional* I thought. *And he's going to kill me.*
I tried to crack a joke, "Hey, for someone who's trying to stop killing people as a resolution, you don't sound very committed".
He did not react, just stared across the peaceful lake while my internal fear and anxiety threw my thoughts into deep turmoil.
He suddenly turned, interrupting the tornado storming within me, and stared intently into my eyes. He said, "Look, you don't need to worry. I am not going to kill you or harm you in any way". He didn't say it in a gentle or caring tone, it was just a fact to him. He continued in his robotic tone, "I don't kill people I know, just the ones that I feel have no reason to live". He paused, seemingly looking for the right words for what he was going to say next, "I have principles, you see?"
Those words shocked me, even more than his initial confession of killing. I couldn't help but blurt out, "You have principles?"
"Y--Yes. Principles". There was a slight quiver in his voice.
"I have known you for more than ten years, we grew up together", I paused, "and until today, I did think you had principles. You were better than the whole bunch of them!" To this day, I still don't know what powerful force came over me to yell out those sentences.
And at this moment, his cold, robotic demeanor seemed to begin to break down. My screaming seemed to dismantle the serial killer within him and I caught a glimpse of the old friend I knew.
His hands grasped tightly to his head, tears began to fall down his face. The tears came slowly, then came pouring as if the gates to all his pain and remorse (I assumed) were unleashed. "I am not a psychopath, I am not heartless, or soulless. I just happened to have a hobby that..." He trailed off, hyperventilating. In fact, the sound of his crying and breathing became so loud that it was starting to attract the attention of people leaving the bonfire, passing by the back of the house.
"You need help."
"I know."
"Let me help you."
"Okay." | I laugh think it was a joke but when I look at him and see the seriousness on his face a chill runs down my spine. I knew Tommy nearly all my life since first grade I never have I thought of him being a serial killer.
"Wa-what do you mean?" I ask already know in the answer wanting to run but seeing my friend's face instead of a killer.
"Exactly what I said, "I need to stop", otherwise I'd get caught."
"Why are you telling me" I ask, my mouth becoming dry.
"You said before that if I ever needed you to do so you'd help me hide a body without any questions"
"Well yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it"
"So you won't help?"
His eyes narrow as me "I'm more going to kill you if that what you fear"
I take a deep breath thinking my options
I down the rest of my drink and get up "well, I can't leave a buddy hanging" l say as as he smiles at me the same smile as he gives right when we get in trouble.
We walk into the woods age about 10 minutes later we come across a woman's body it was Courtney the girl who turned me down when I asked her out last week.
"Why Jack? why?" I say on the verge of tears.
"She hurt my best friend" he said "I remember when you cried when you thought no one was looking, I love you, you're like a brother to me"
I sure there crying over my crush, a friend part of our trio and he murdered her.
"This is me gift to you" the shovel falls at me side and in a fit of rage I take the shovel and knock his feet from under him I stand and hold the shovel way this neck "YOU KILLED OUR FRIEND!" rage taking over me.
"If you don't kill me I will continue to kill, I cannot stop" his smile still there but with sadness.
"I won't" cry.
"Do you want to know what she said in her last breathe?" He says unfazed "her last word was your name, she screamed your name"
The last thing I remember if walking up in a the back of an ambulance with a blanket around my shoulders and right before he was out in a body bag his face smashed in and was unrecognizable. | 2021-01-01T00:12:07 | 2020-12-31T18:00:44 | 61 | 35 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | The time stops. The first time it had happened was months ago, and only for a few shocking seconds. I remember being afraid I'd had a stroke or something, but I never got it checked out. How do you tell a doctor that one second you're eating lunch and then nothing moves but you?
The second time was maybe five minutes. I panicked when it started, but once I realized I was in control of myself and didn't seem like anything was wrong, it started seeming less terrifying. I admit, I did a few things I shouldn't have. Took advantage of the situation. A few dropped pants and tied shoes, nothing worse than that. Not like I could do anything more elaborate anyway, since I never knew when the time stops were coming or how long they'd last.
I knew somehow instinctively that I wasn't making time stop. Once I figured that out, I felt a little disappointed, but it didn't bother me ultimately. Whoever it was didn't do a time stop very often, and they didn't manage to get me when the time was wrong, so it didn't bother me much. That is, until today. Or would it be more accurate to say three "days" ago?
The time stops started picking up frequency over the last few weeks. Once a day, then twice a day, sometimes three or four. Fifteen minute stretches, thirty minutes. The longest one was about three hours. Inconvenient at best and downright boring at worst. It was always in the back of my head that I should find out who was doing this and give them a talking-to. Did they know whatever they were doing didn't affect me? Were they playing a prank on me or something? But every time I'd gotten to the point where I was just fed up enough to try, time would pop back into reality and I'd eventually forget the frustration.
Except for this one. After six hours had stretched on with no end in sight, I decided it was time to make good on my threats. It took a bit of calming down and being focused, but I finally felt an odd feeling, like a compass needle pointing me in a direction. Since time hadn't returned, I followed it. Not like I have anything better to do.
I was on day three when I found the room.
A woman lay in a hospital bed, tubes sprouting from seemingly everywhere around her. To her right, a doctor stood, his hand poised over a silent machine. And to her left, a man sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair. His right hand rested on the woman's forehead, gently brushing her hair from her face with his thumb. His left hand's fingers intertwined with hers, their gold rings tapping against each other. And his head was downturned, staring at the floor, until the sound of my footsteps made one haggard eye raise up over his outstretched left arm.
We looked at each other in silence for a moment, then he looked away, his hand resuming stroking her hair. He looked like shit. Like he'd been crying for three days straight.
I stood still for a moment, then simply brought a chair from another room and sat down quietly next to him. He didn't acknowledge me. I could see his chest heaving again with silent, pained sobs.
And time stretched on.
-------------------------------------------
First time posting here. Prompt lodged a scene in my head and I knew better than to ignore it. Just wrote it and did barely any editing before posting, so please be kind to me! I haven't written anything more or less since my degree burned away all my desire to write, lol. | And 3... 2... 1... it’s time to go.
I don’t think I’ve ever entered this bank with such a huge grin on my face. There is absolutely nothing to stop me from getting what I’ve wanted for so many years, and in a few minutes I’ll have more money than I could ever imagine having all at once. I really should feel bad... but fuck you, Richard, and the rest of your bullshit management team. I’m just taking what is owed; no big deal, right?
Annnddd looks like he’s entering the girl’s locker room... typical kid. Guess that gives me about 5 minutes tops. Sadly that means I don’t have time to slap a few people around. Consider it my present to you idiots for being coworkers for so long. Now now, what was it again?... 52... 36... 126.... 7.... 12... and 85... *click* bingo.
Have you ever seen such a beautiful sight? Money. Money everywhere. Ohhh and don’t forget all those beautiful golden bars. I think it’s time to go shopping, don’t you? See, this place here has been a temptation of mine for the past 16 years I’ve had to deal with being an employee of this shit hole. And look at me now!!!.... oh I’m sorry. Almost forgot time is frozen. Better get a move on. Hmm, I’ll take one of these... and some of these... ohhh and a bit of these. Can’t forget these either.
How much time do I have left?.... wow this little shit. He’s having the time of his life in that locker room. Guess I can get one or two slaps in...
Alright alright. If my math is correct... that puts me at about 450 grand... annnddd now let’s grab a few of these and well, well, well... looks like I’ve got myself a solid half a million. Not too bad for 5 minutes of work. I’d say now is a good time to leave. Looks like the kid thinks so too.
Oh yeah. FUCK YOU RICHARD. THIS IS FOR THAT 5 CENT “RAISE!”
*SLAP* And that ladies and gentlemen is probably better than sex itself!! HA HA!
Alright alright and now we’re out of there. Just in time too.
*As the doors close behind me, the world begins to rotate once more, birds singing, people chatting, cars moving and all is right again*
Well, this would definitely be a lot easier if I had the control of this time warp bullshit... but I’ll consider all this good enough. And of course god bless technology for making cameras too small to ever detect. Putting it on that little shit’s backpack was the best idea I’ve ever had since realizing what was going on with the time stops!! Damn I’m a genius... Oh. I am DEFINITELY gonna have to talk with that kid though. I mean, sneaking into girl’s locker rooms with his power?? There’s no way I’m letting my son abuse his powers like that! | 2018-01-26T07:14:36 | 2018-01-26T07:11:56 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] Your task from the client was simple; Kill the target and take care of the kid too. It's been 10 years since then, and you've just realised you may have misunderstood "take care of kid too." | "Daddy, look."
Tiny hands hold out a piece of paper. A man and a child holding hands. Although the drawing was crude and the paint was horrible, I couldn't help but smile.
I take the painting.
"Beautiful. I look so handsome in this."
This would go nicely on the fridge. Or maybe I should frame it.
"Hehehe. Nope. Daddy is the best outside."
She hugged me.
I caressed her head gently as my eyes wandered to the letter in front of me.
It has been 10 years since I retired. My final mission was to kill a couple and take care of their child.
The target didn't put much of a fight. Not that I would give them a chance.
The baby was only a few months old. No one would blame me if misunderstood the task.
Besides after so many years of killing, I didn't think I would have a chance to start a family. So I take care of the baby. For 10 years that is.
Until today. The letter was from the organisation that I used to work for.
It was sent by an old friend as a warning.
I looked at the girl who was looking at me with bright eyes.
I smiled and said,
"Why don't you go and watch the TV?"
Her eyes lit up before she calmed herself and said,
"But I have homework..."
"It's fine we can do that together later."
She nodded vigorously and ran off.
I take the letter and tore it into pieces.
Sending assassins after my daughter. Sending assassins after me.
I walked over to my room and opened the drawer that has been locked for a decade.
In a business where death is our playmate, there is a reason why I was never wounded.
It is time to remind them of that reason.
For my daughter, I don't mind becoming the reaper once again. | You turn to face the live audience, breaking the fourth wall. You give an exaggerated, almost cartoonist shrug as the camera zooms in and a trumpet accentuates your mistake.
*Wah Wah Wah, Waaaaah*
The crowd roars with laughter.
"I'm such a dope" you exclaim, as you cock your pistol.
"This is turning out to be ***quite*** the day" you say to yourself. "At least my mother-in-law had to cancel her visit." A smirk appears on your face.
The audience applauds.
You slowly pan to the them once more.
"Something about......stomach issues" you boast as your smirk transitions into a wide grin.
The audience bellows with laughter, followed by applause and cheers. Only they know what you did.
You hear the kid unlocking the door. Fumbling for your gun, you knock over and break your wife's favorite vase.
"Oooooooohhhhh" goes the crowd. They know you're in for it now. The Missus is still mad about the dirty garage.
"Quite the day indeed" you mutter as you line up your shot. | 2022-05-22T23:06:10 | 2022-05-22T14:13:50 | 104 | 15 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Secretary Rosen sat contemplating silently while the Roni Ambassador dictated to him the terms of peace that Humanity was expected to accept following their defeat in battle yesterday.
Intergalactic Warfare wasn't so different from that practiced on Earth for millennia. They fought just as ferociously as soldiers sailors and airmen had fought in the innumerable wars humanity had subjected itself to during it's brief existence as a sentient species. There was one difference however. War had stopped being politics by other means for the most part on Earth. It was obviously still the way of it out here.
The Roni Ambasador had stopped speaking and was pointing at a treaty. "You must sign here, Mr. Secretary."
Finally Rosen stood up from his chair, straightened his suit, and began to speak. "Forgive me Ambassador, but allow me to clarify a few things. Firstly, the battle yesterday was a surprise attack, completely unwarranted and unjustified. We were at peace. Now we are at war."
"We have defeated you, you are now surrendering."
"Oh, you defeated that fleet it's true. But you will find once your forces are debriefed that it wasn't such an overwhelming defeat, despite you attacking us by surprise with a fleet five times the size of our own."
The Ambassador was puzzled. This was not how surrender ceremonies were supposed to go.
Rosen continued. "You see Ambassador, if you would do me a favor and look outside my window. What do you see."
"I see the newest addition to the Roni Empire."
"Ah, but you're still not understanding. I see a planet of my fellow humans who are girding themselves for war. You have broken the peace we had, you have attacked without warning and you did so callously, in the belief that just because the rest of the galaxy fights with kid gloves we will too."
"What are kid gloves, I do not know this expression."
"Kid gloves, Ambassador, are what we're now taking off." Rosen reached down to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Admiral, you may proceed with the mission. As of now, Ambassador, any Roni we find is dead. Any settlement we find is dead. Any fleet we find is dead. Bring this back to your leadership. While you can. We tried to deal with you fairly and you took advantage. We tried to negotiate when things got out of hand and you took advantage. Well no more. Humanity is not your punching bag."
"This is absurd. We have beaten you, your world is ours."
"Is everyone in your government as slow as you. We do not fight one battle and call it a war, as you apparently do. We sometimes fight to a stalemate. You killed 10,000 humans yesterday. At a cost of 40,000 of your own. This building alone has more humans than that. You have beaten nothing. Nothing except yourselves. Please turn your attention to the view screen."
The view screens, which were displaying prominent Roni landmarks as a sign of supplication and respect, or so the Ambassador had thought, suddenly flashed white. The shipyards of Kontak. The weapons factories of Girt. The great city of Ron. All contact lost, seemingly obliterated.
"How...what..."
"That was just the beginning. We have a saying. If you want peace prepare for war. We wanted peace, we tried peace your way, and you still could not contain yourselves. So we will contain you. You have exactly 2 minutes to get out of my sight, and a further 28 to get off my planet. If you are still lingering in that time, your worthless life is forfeit." | Surely their treaty language was infantile. Every galactic power saw the human delegations in this light, and granted them allowances when they called out other polities for supposed violations. Their own world still rattled with ancient, barbaric rivalries, but their world government was adept at crafting laws that addressed every possible misconception. Humans understood their own clumsy codifications of appropriate behavior very well, but fell short when it came to interstellar natural law.
Or so we thought.
We deferred when the Gortic Palison partial terraform malfunctioned, spilled out from the Nargust crater and absorbed three human city settlements on the far side of the Ptolsephon moon. To any other species, it would have been enough to permit them to exact a comparable assault on a colony of Gorton 4, but in their naïve phrasing, two wrongs don't make a right. They distrusted the Palison technology and the Gortons themselves, and demanded recompense in resources, and territory.
This played out in similar fashion across their galactic arm, Orion. Always the victim, they plied their negotiating skills to push other species back. Only the mildest species would acquiesce to cohabit with them, and condescended to their petty demands for resources and territory.
No one saw their long game. When they managed to solidify a complete surrender of the solar empire Many, something they called a Dyson swarm, everyone thought they would be satiated for a long time.
Instead, they quickly learned how to put the computing power left behind by the Many to their own uses. They centralized their catalog of treaties and awoke their first overarching Ai as some kind of galactic space lawyer.
Within the span of 50 years, less than their average individual lifetimes, they managed to call out 1,759,683 violations of the myriad of treaties they'd negotiated and presented them to the Central Confederation. Locking them all simultaneously within the very limited judicial system, which existed almost exclusively for new races like theirs, they'd forced a vote of no confidence, and stormed out, declaring all treaties null and void.
This was preferable to the rest of us, seeing them as petty promises one makes to one's offspring to goad them into compliance and self discipline.
We could not have been more wrong.
As I sit in the Confederation's central information hub, I see the path of human fleets, plowing through empires and colonies alike, completely obliterating them. They are taking no prisoners, using xenophobic battle cries as fuel for their genocides.
They must have planned this from the very beginning. We were the naïve ones, foolishly sharing technologies and information with them. We thought they would come to understand the galaxy and adapt to our way of life, as every other species has. But in their claims to want peace, they peddled treachery, and secretly lusted for blood. The galaxy has never before had an apex predator, yet these fleshy, pink bipeds, of all creatures, will be the death of us all.
And the worst part? It's all perfectly legal. | 2019-11-24T14:03:48 | 2019-11-24T12:29:38 | 572 | 363 |
[WP] Two wizards must fight each other. One has the power to shape the future, the other has the power to alter the past. | As the white wizard stood in the knowledge of his fate, he uttered his last words.
"Too much blood has been spilled in our wake brother, if this is to be my last breath, then I will do what you cannot.".
The wizard stood for a moment, then was promtly unwritten from reality.
The Warlock laughed, he felt no different and was still standing proudly, the victor.
He then heard it... the bird song. So long had it been since he heard the beautiful chorus, and he fell to his knees in sorrow.
The world scorched in his lustful war for power had been rekindled and with it, his ego evaporated.
A realisation of his deeds swept over him, and with it, he knew in his last moments, his brother had given him the gift of moral redemption.
In his death, it was his brother who had infact won the war, but at the greatest sacrifice.
The warlock raised his staff and with all his power tried to write his brother into existence but it was too late. He was gone.
As penance he took up his brothers mantle of responsibility, and vowed to protect the world from the evil of lust. Never again would power corrupt the future of his kingdom. | The two wizards halted with some twenty paces between them. All of the king's court was assembled in all their finery, all hush to await the greatest struggle of their time.
One wizard smiled while the other laughed, for both knew the other would be victorious. So they bowed to one another, and then bowed to the king, and bowed to the audience. As one they spoke, their words melded through time and chance and fate.
*I am what will be*
*I am what was*
*There is no such thing as the present because.* | 2016-02-02T18:11:56 | 2016-02-02T16:47:54 | 57 | 26 |
[WP] We finally get men on Mars and they discover an old Soviet flag placed down decades ago. The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason didn't say anything. | "This..this can't be what I think it is, can it?"
Jenkins voice was breathy and a little scared through my comm. There was also a low buzzing noise, probably some kind of static. I looked down at the three bodies and the red and yellow flag on the cave floor.
"I don't know what else it could be." I responded.
The Soviet flag was small, only about a foot across and half a foot high. Payload used to be expensive, back in the bad old days, so I wasn't surprised. The bodies though...
They weren't wearing any clothing, but scraps of what looked like old suits clung to their flesh. They were not in good shape. There were massive growths over most of their skin and something else...
"They look like they are all connected to each other. Like there is some kind of, I don't know, umbilical cord connecting each one to the other." Jenkins said. "Carmichael, we have to find a way to report this."
The buzzing was a little louder now.
Our Earth-range radio had stopped working shortly after we had established the small forward base. We couldn't find anything technically wrong with the equipment, but Jenkins had managed to trace some kind of signal coming from this cave. We had come out here to investigate, not knowing what we were going to find.
The cave was shallow and we didn't see any technology.
"Can you sweep for the signal? Try to find where it's coming from? I don't see any machines. And what the hell is that noise?"
This buzzing was starting to become irritating.
Jenkins held up his small receiver and swung his arm slowly from one rocky wall to the other. Then he hesitated. I could see, even through the tinted facemask, that something was wrong.
"What?" I asked.
"Hold on. This...oh shit." He said, bringing the receiver to rest in front of the Russian cosmonauts bodies.
I swallowed. "It's coming from them, isn't it?"
I don't know what Jenkins said in response, because suddenly the buzz became much louder. It was all I could hear. I cut the speaker in my helmet. It didn't matter, I still heard it.
Suddenly, Jenkins doubled over, and a long line of the red Martian dust that covered the floor exploded upwards between the nearest cosmonaut and him. His suit split open in a line from his boot to above his knee. A pulsing tendril of flesh, exactly like the ones that connected the Russians to each other, now connected him to them.
I tried to back out, but my right foot wouldn't move. Something was connecting it to the ground. Guess what that was. The buzzing ceased to be a drone, and became the language we're using to talk to you now.
That's how we came to be where you found us. That's how the ones who come to find you will be. We were expecting more after the first three, but according to Carmichael's memories, they must have lacked the funds to follow up on their first mission. We only need a few more now for critical mass. Then, we will bring Unity to your world, as we brought it to this one.
Stop struggling. It will soon cease to hurt. Pain is a burden we will reject together. Until then, we will all be quiet, and wait. | *sorry for my poor English, and I wasn't paying enough attention when I read the prompt so I used rover instead of men*
"Okay, that'd better be good." I get out of the bed, cursing, and turn the TV on just in time.
"And so," says the President, "I will let the NASA Administrator speak".
Well, half of the nation doesn't like the President anyway, so whoever speaks instead it's good news. The TV shows a weary man in his sixties. "As you may already know," he says, "we have been withholding images from our Curiosity rover mission for some time. Some of you may believe that we have been doing it for years, but that's wrong. We have been doing it for sixteen days. But now we are sure that there is no mistake and that it's pointless to conceal our discovery."
I sip the remains of the cold tea I had left on my table before going to bed early, wondering if I'm still dreaming. If it was real, I should already be hearing screams of joy of numerous conspiracy theorists, dancing and throwing their foil hats into the air.
"Sixteen days ago we found an artificial object on Mars. It is very unlikely to have been delivered by any unmanned mission we are aware about. There are no known landing sites in its vicinity. We can't identify any tracks around it, but there might be something under the dust that we can find after careful examination. Perhaps we will have to send another rover equipped specifically for this mission now that we know what to look for."
"Anyway, we have found an artifact, it took us sixteen days to get to it and inspect it. We have no doubt that it is a Soviet flag."
The old TV shows a series of photos of a flag hanging on a pole. On the progression of photos it looks twitchy.
"The Martian wind isn't usually strong enough to make it wave, but what can be seen in the upper left corner of it is definitely sickle and hammer. We don't know of any mission that was capable of delivering it. The Soviet rovers from missions Mars-2 and Mars-3 couldn't carry it for sure, and Mars-4NM and Mars-5NM were canceled due to lack of a sufficiently powerful heavy carrier rocket."
"Curiosity is equipped with the ChemCam instrument, which allows to vaporise a cubic millimeter of matter with a laser burst and inspect its composition via spectrography. Unfortunately we can't examine the flag itself as it is too high, all that's available is the pole."
"And so we did it. We analyzed the pole. It is very likely to be something like wood, something that was alive once." He draws a deep breath. "And it definitely isn't from Earth." | 2016-08-16T09:32:53 | 2016-08-16T09:26:31 | 312 | 44 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | In a flash all the contestants were ready. 34 creatures from 34 different planets around the galaxy, all known for their exceptional violence, ruthlessness, and physical prowess... All except one.
Every cycle, the Great One chooses the same 34 species, and every cycle another one of the pathetic humans are torn to shreds, melted into a puddle, or driven mad by the mere sight of the competition. Two appendages for manipulation, two for movement, at least half or sometimes even a third as many as most of the participants. Yet time and time again, the Great One throws them into the pit.
Most of us think it's a joke, a test, a low bar, an example of the minimum requirement to even be considered for the Games. But SOME of us know better. From eons of watching these games, I've seen these humans change, just slightly. Gone is the thick brow and body hair, replaced with simple textiles. Plant-Fiber tools slowly replaced with stone, then basic metals. Last Cycle, we even had one with what seemed to be a primitive combat suit, clad in strong alloy, and wielding a weapon it very much knew how to use.
This was no match for the other contestants, of course, but some of the craftier ones among us started to recognize the pattern... This was the year we really doubled down. If a fully clad soldier had been the last human, then surely this one would be formidable.
Which is why my soul sank when I saw what I'd bet my fortune on. The armor was all but entirely missing. A simple helmet and chest plating? A weapon without a single slicing edge in sight? Not even a point, just a hollow metal tube...
The alarm sounded, the cages fell, and I had all but given up. Right at the start, the Quadruple Pincered Cephalopod of Talkon-5 slithered its way towards this pathetic excuse of a creature, sure to be bisected before I could even blink... That's when the first series of small explosions rang out across the arena... And the Cephalopod was reduced to what the humans would call "Chunky Salsa".
I don't think anyone expected a projectile weapon, especially not one powered by handheld explosive force. What kind of idiot race would make weapons that explode that close them? Though to its credit, we've never had a faster winner in the games. | The Grand Tournament was a tradition dating back a thousand years. The people of the Sr'atlain Cooperative *deserved* a little break every now and then. The blood sport of Tournament time was accompanied by feasting, by marriages, and by traditional Divorce duels. The lesser beings of the galaxy that survived would get a new life as treasured exhibits with the nobility. No hugh man had ever lasted past the first 2 rounds. The scaroid was favored this year, their impressive natural arm blades making up for the lesser exoskeletal mass that the Kar Itii females sported.
The arena was prepared and the gates opened. From 12 corners of the arena beings walked, skittered, crawled, or undulated cautiously out. They had had the situation explained in their native tongues and their natural aggressiveness played out in their reactions. In all but one corner the aliens squared off, two or three at a time.
There was a jangling sound from the human pen. The crowd grew quiet. They knew that hugh mans didn't *jingle.*
A hulking four armed monster approached and let out it's undulating cry challenging the hugh man to come out. A grunt in the pen was accompained by a steel headed spear that impaled the thing. Behind it at a jog came the hugh man.
Wearing a long shirt made of interlocked metal rings and a helmet with a strip over his nose the hugh man hefted an axe and let out a cry. The others in the arena heard him, and what he said was this:
"Ó Óðinn! Þú hefur gefið mér tilgang hér í Ragnarok! Leyfðu mér að vera þinn hrafn!"
And then the blood began to stain the floor again. | 2020-09-13T19:20:37 | 2020-09-13T19:16:13 | 69 | 39 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | "I said no."
"You must! She's the true heir-"
"And why should I care about your puny kingdom?"
"Because...if she doesn't claim the throne there will be chaos for a long time...which means war...which means more soldiers to try and slay you..."
"Hey, buddy, are you OK? You're breathing kinda funny, and you got a lot of blood on you."
"I'm...fine."
"If you say so. But anyway, your logic is a bit of a stretch. I've seen a lot of kingdoms fall, it doesn't always turn out like that."
"Please..."
"You think, just because I'm a dragon I have a tower somewhere to stash her in?"
"Well, yes."
"Yeah, OK, fine, I do know of an abandoned castle with a couple towers. The previous owner sent an army against me, and since stone doesn't burn, it's still mostly intact."
"So you'll...take...her?"
"What? No! I can't raise a human. I don't even know what you guys eat!"
*cough*
"Uhhh...you eat...fields? And, umm...sheep? And horses...? No wait, you ride on the horses...But do you also eat the horses? Huh, I never thought to ask..."
*gasp. gargle*
"I like horsemeat, anyway. Hey, buddy, do humans eat horses?"
...
"Hello? Buddy? You OK?"
...
"Huh. I think he's dead."
"Waaaaahhhh! Waaaaaahhhh!"
"Oh no nonono, little princess, don't cry, please don't cry-"
"Waaaaahhh!"
"Uhhh, here... *phwoof* ...See?... *phwoof* ...you like smoke rings?"
"A-hahaha!"
"Yeah, you like the smoke rings. What about this? ... *FWOAH*"
"Oohhh"
"That's called fire. Can you say 'fire'? Fi-re. Fiii-rre."
"Aagh"
"Eh, close enough. I never realized how cute human babies are."
"Ffffffpp"
"Hey, uhh, come on, let's get you somewhere safe, OK?" | Please be gentle, first time attempt + not my first language + on my phone, so formatting is bad
.
.
.
I look at him, bewildered.
"Don't you know what dragons normally do with princesses?"
He is breathing heavily, bleeding, dying. His eyes are wet as he looks at the baby which does not seem to understand the seriousness of the situation and is laughing gleefully. For him it is either getting killed by the invaders straight away or having a tiny glimpse of hope attached to my mercy.
I regret my question immediately.
What other choice could he have? And a dragon, a mighty one like me if I may add, is the best protection.
Still, I do not approve of this. What do I want with a tiny human baby that I will probably crush with my tail accidentally when I sleep. I have enough trouble wi-
"Oh my!! What is this???"
Oh no. Exactly what I wanted to avoid. Grialda comes speeding out of the deeper parts of the cave. After our hunt in the morning I thought she would be deep asleep.
Or hoped.
The soldiers eyes are bulging out of his sockets; then he quickly composes himself. He didn't expect another dragon. And probably didn't expect another dragon that is only about his size.
Yes, I produced an offspring.
"Can we keep it? Muuuum, please!"
...This is not helping me being majestic and all.
The soldier is looking rather hopeful now although I can see that in a few moments he will be gone.
"Please...Take good care of her." And with this words he collapses. | 2018-03-01T03:08:36 | 2018-03-01T02:25:58 | 57 | 30 |
[WP] You often end up in extremely dangerous situations where you should have died, but somehow come out of it alright. It happens so often, the Grim Reaper has started to show up with a bag of popcorn and a lawn chair. | I turn to the cloak covered bones in my living room. They had pulled up one of my dining chairs and had a bag of popcorn in hand munching periodically but the bag never seemed to empty. This had been going on for some time now whenever I seemed to be in danger but I don’t see what’s so dangerous about toast.
“Are you alright there mate?” I asked trying not to sound rude.
“Just watching. What bout you!”
“I can’t get my toast out of the toaster.” I replied pointing to my ready toast that refused to come out.
The skeletons boney hand reached into their cloak to pull out a fork and hand it to me. “Try this.”
What could go wrong? Seriously my luck is so stupid and this thing is obviously waiting for me to die so why not give it a try.
As I reached the fork into the toaster the power in my apartment shut off and I grabbed out the toast with no harm or injury. The cloaked skeleton was howling with laughter and clapping as they wiped what I could assume was a tear from their eye.
“You really are something. Well I’ll see you later Jim. Tomorrow, two o’clock, see you there!” The skeleton got up from their seat and vanished into thin air, the only trace of their existence; the spilled popcorn on my kitchen floor…
I’m not good at writing but it was stuck in my head. | It turns out that being not afraid of death is what makes you less mortal. Her petrifying presence reveal evidently that someday you will perish. Holding yourself back is no longer a necessity since watching the end.
Death approaches you as an interested character, who just wants to watch how your life will unfold.
"Too boring", she whispers in a chilling way. "All these lives of those who are afraid of me. All those ones who will do nothing, yet hold on so tight on living", said the Grim staring at the blank.
"i'm tired", she finally mutters after a profound silence. "Entertain me! Now that you know, you can do anything". | 2021-08-04T19:57:11 | 2021-08-04T13:07:33 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death. | Does immortality exist? Apparently, it does. According to the decision tree, at least. It took John an eternity to find out, it felt like one, but it was closer to 456,890 years, if he was still alive and counting down. His neighbours were long gone by then, off to explore the wonders of the afterlife or to try again at living, but John stayed put.
He had always viewed himself as a perfectionist when he was still alive. Naturally, when presented with a decision tree that showcased every possible trajectory of his life, he had to scrutinize it to the smallest detail. Like how he would have become a billionaire and married the love of his life if he had left his house earlier on December 10, 2015, instead of agonizing over his unkempt shoelaces.
One branch however, stood out to him. One that kept on going and going, past the 456,890 years that he had spent scrutinizing the decision tree, past the heat death of the universe, past the second heat death of the universe, forever. Essentially, immortality.
All he had to do was to attend a science lecture.
John looked at the branch, snaking off into eternity, feeling a tinge of regret. Immortality seemed like the perfect achievement for a human being. Conquering the constant that constrained everyone. He peeked at the abandoned decision trees left by others. Some of them had paths that went on forever too. Immortality was definitely not a unique outcome for him alone.
But if it was not a unique outcome, were there humans who already unlocked the feature?
He ran to the Afterlife Service Desk and presented his query. The angel behind the counter smiled at him.
“Of course, there immortals out there, it’s just that they’re not highly publicized,” the angel said matter-of-factly.
John pushed his glasses up his nose for dramatic effect. He knew what had to be done. “Send me in for a second try,” he requested.
The angel nodded and snapped his finger. John disappeared immediately, sent for another try at human life. Contrary to what John said, it was not his second try at immortality, it would be his sixth attempt. But of course, John did not remember. It was part of the requirement of reincarnation. Complete memory wipe.
The angel pondered about John’s case for a while, wondering why he was so hung up on immortality when the other immortals were already regretting their decision.
“Humans,” the angel mumbled to itself, before returning to work.
------------
/r/dori_tales | You smile up at your husband feeling his warm tears drop onto your face along with the cold rain. You can see the red and blue lights flashing and he's yelling something at you, clutching desperately at your side, trying to staunch the flow of blood from two bullet holes. Your hearing went what feels like a couple of minutes ago, now your feeling is barely there, and as your vision begins to fade too, you whisper to him.
You never planned on getting shot this morning when you woke up. It was a shiny Seattle day and you got yourself ready for work at the coffee shop. you grabbed your keys, you got your coffee cup, you got your phone and stuffed it in your bag, what could you have possibly missed?
You look at the tree map infront of you. It was the pepper spray. You had missed the pepper spray. If you had remembered to shove it in your pocket like you do every morning you would have been able to get away from the muggers that evening. According to the tree map of your entire life, you could have also taken the morning shift or further back by a few months, you could have taken the job for retail at that one clothes store. Unlucky for you, you chose none of those options. Lucky for you, the other mugger was a bad shot and you got a couple extra minutes with your husband.
Thinking about this you notice something strange about one particular path on the tree. It holds all of the good choices you could have made and eventually ends with "Become a God" after that the line has blank spaces to be filled in and goes on forever up off of the actual map and into the sky. You study the map a little while longer memorizing it and capturing it in your picture perfect memory. You smile and think to yourself about those last few words you whispered to your husband. Turning around, you walk to the light and take a step in.
"See you on the flip side" you whisper to him in your last moments. | 2020-07-03T11:29:39 | 2020-07-03T11:06:20 | 212 | 21 |
[WP] The old gods rise to cleanse the planet, but you have the power of god and anime on your side. | "I really don't see how this was better than my idea, at least let me send some more Angels as backup!" God protested
"Just trust me. You gave me his abilities right? Trust me, I'll be able to handle the old ones" the young man replied
"I did. Whatever you wished for, you will be able to do, just show me already" the Almighty said impatiently
Michael the Archangel and and Gabriel watched in horror as their enemy arrived
"You better do it quick"
Cthulhu rose out of the deep waters of the ocean and his colossal shadow approached the mainland, his brethren following.
Suddenly Lucifer appeared beside the two angels armed with a deckchair and some popcorn
"Why are you here?" Gabriel inquired politely
"I never miss a good fight, you know me Gabs"
"Ugh" Michael groaned
The young man began to glow with cosmic energy, and the whole world began to shake as he powered up
His hair turned a godly bright shining white and spiked up with energy, radiating absolute strength, speed and power.
"Behold! Old Ones! The power of Dragonball Super! Son Goku's Ultimate Form! Mastered Ultra Instinct!"
Music begins playing from an unknown source
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GH9u4eZQGk8
"Thaghts prehty gud!" Lucifer said with a mouthful of popcorn
"Oh for fuck sake" said Michael in frustration
Cthulhu and the other Old Ones cocked their heads in confusion, letting out an deep eldritch "HUH?" in unison
"That's quite a good look if I do say so myself" God commented
But they were not startled for long as the young hero struck Cthulhu with enough force to knock the giant monster down
He quickly gets up but is barraged by a volley of lightning fast punches and kicks too fast for mortals to even perceive, Cthulhu roars in pain.
Lucifer fistbumps in rhythm to the song that has been playing since the fight started
"KA KA KA KA KACHI DAZE!" He chants
He is once again catapulted away by the hero's punch, crashing into his fellow dark gods like a bowling bowl
They all struggle to their feet, enraged at this mortals incredible power and defiance, they bellow
Lucifer riffs on an air guitar in the background while Gabriel quietly hums to the beat
the sound of energy gathering and charging drowns out their angry protest and start to panic at the ever growing blue orb of plasma forming in the palms of the Godlike mortal
"KAAAA....MEEEEE....HAAAAA...MEEEEE...
##HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
In a furious explosion of ki energy, the old ones are completely and utterly vaporised. The powerful Kamehameha wave engulfing them completely and spilling out into the void of space
The young hero, with the world now saved, returns to his base form, exhausted but triumphant.
"Told you that would work God"
"You must tell me more about this Goku fellow my friend" as the two beings walk away from the angels
"Least he wasn't a devilman fanboy" Michael said
"Oh I love devilman!" Lucifer interjected cheerfully
"You would." The Archangel replied with a scowl
| I feel them rising, old earth shifting in old tombs. Centuries of silence crushed by noble boots. They are coming for me; it’s in their nature. To conquer a world they would attack not its weaknesses but its strength. They prepare for battle by casting aside any frivolity left in them in favor of armor blessed and guaranteed to turn aside any blade crafted by Man. Their arrogance is matched only by their power.
I smile now even in their ascent, even as massive bodies emerge from closed caves like earthquakes in the old lands. They come at me with overwhelming power no doubt expecting me to tremble as I’m overthrown. I cannot do as I wish and use my own power to seal them once more. Like cockroaches coming out in the night, they would merely emerge a few centuries later to try again. Such is the trouble with immortals. I will humiliate them with the weakness of the new world.
There will be no glory in these battles as in the old time, no lines of soldiers to be swept away like ashes in the wake of their breath. There will be no mortals in this fight. Every step they grow closer I amass the warriors of this war. I’ve just finished putting the finishing touches on a new torment. She stands barely four feet tall, laughably small amongst her peers, but she will be the most demanding and fearsome of the lot. She is designed to cause rise to anger and misunderstandings all the while stringing along the unware with the slightest hint of kindness. This she does with the intent of leaving her target in limbo, unfulfilled and emotionally alone. Tsundere they call her.
Her I’ll save for Odin. It should break that pride of his. For good measure I’ll make him wear the body of a child in school, subservient to all around. A moment and it is done, an exciting new and brightly colored series with a slave at the forefront and little girls singing the theme song. The world will watch him and in the end they’ll know the truth of his character. A god laid bare will have no choice but to hide until mankind has fallen completely. Now, as for Thor, I think an excruciatingly long series masquerading as a war show where no one ever dies and only words are exchanged. I’ll keep the focus on maturing emotionally rather than battle. Perhaps the man\-child will learn something in the end. If not, well, the thought of him in a cruel mockery of his Valhalla will put a smile on my face in the quiet moments.
A sigh and it is done. Hel and the others…it will be a good year for animated entertainment. They will live as fools until I will it otherwise to the smiles and smirks of children and laughter of Men. | 2018-06-11T16:47:14 | 2018-06-11T15:40:37 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | He had never learned how to write.
In Egypt, only scribes were taught the sacred hieroglyphics. Only the names of the pharaohs and high officials were inscribed for the gods to read.
He was only a baker. He had no need for writing or reading. His life and death were uneventful. He watched as his family mourned his passing. After some years, it was if he never existed.
He saw his sons and daughters grow up and marry. He saw his grand children, his great grandchildren and his great great granchildren. Still, he did not pass to the otherworld. He knew kings and queens passed easily, their names constantly on their mourners' lips. For the baker, he could only wait.
Years passed. He watched as his valleys grew tall with buildings, roads stretching out to the horizon and villages turning into cities. Other languages emerged and took over. First Greek, then Arabic. Slowly, he learned the new tongues. He understood merchants in their transactions. He listened to bakers discussing their recipes. He looked at the beautiful scripts but saw neither letters, words nor sentences.
He knew where children learned to write. He knew how their mothers taught them. They had sticks and mud when they were younger, and pencils and paper when they were older. He knew they practiced making straight lines and curved lines, and saw their satisfaction when someone read their words.
Every night, he went to the beach, practicing scratching letters into the sand and watching the waves erase his efforts. Over and over, he wrote the same words, making sure to get the strokes just right.
.
The young girl ran across the sand early one morning. It was her last day of vacation and she wanted to say goodbye to the shore. The receding waves had made a pattern on the ground and she ran her big toe over the bumps. Scraping a design, she noticed that someone else had been there before her. She squatted down to read the letters out loud.
| It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that clever.
| 2016-01-17T15:39:35 | 2016-01-17T11:15:23 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] The End Times have come, but not in a way commonly portrayed in books and movies. Write about this apocalyptic scenario and how the world is reacting to it...
I am a huge fan of everything from The Road to The Walking Dead to I Am Legend to The Last of Us. All of it. I love post-apocalypse novels/movies/games and would love you read some of the stuff you guys come up with! Make it different! | I was promised angels turning the seas into blood, four horsemen, and trumpets heralding the end of days, some grim reward as affirmation of my faith. I was promised a cataclysm in the form of a meteorite, the sun going supernova, the heat death of the universe, reassurance that our understanding of the universe was correct. Life and death are full of empty promises.
“What is the meaning of life?” Well, one fateful night, a mathematician in Oslo happened upon a correct, objective answer. If the good professor had discovered the truth and not told anyone, he would have taken the answer with him into oblivion. However, some things once known cannot be unknown. The truth now swirls and screams in the collective unconscious of all who remain. To find the answer, one must simply look within and ask the question. The answer, still unknown to me, negates your existence, after all, once you beat the game, what is the point of playing? Now all I can do is wait, in the emptying city, for my curiosity to get the better of me...
| They were the worst of humanity. Each one of them was a monster. A universe of darkness behind a human face. This is why we condemned them to the worst fate possible. We sent them where they will not be able to hurt anyone anymore. At the Abyss, where time itself dies.
We hoped that it would be over.
Never did we expect them to be able to exploit the remaining scraps of the universe. Never did we expect them to understand Time better than we did.
Please forgive us.
| 2014-01-12T17:27:37 | 2014-01-12T16:04:00 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
credit to r/Debdub10 for thinking of the idea | Humanity always asks the question is there truly life that lies beyond the stars?
Usually the Galactic Union helps species that are deemed capable of being able to care for the universe and their own home planets. They are passed on a test of how well their planets equilibrium is and as well as how they handle certain situations regarding the natural forces of the planet they reside in. If they pass this test then the Galactic Union introduces itself to the species with first a message by whatever communications the species uses.
Eventually once their world and people are caught up in the history of the universe the G.S (Galactic Services) a branch of the Galactic Union will provide scientist and engineers from around the universe to help propel their society and quality of life.
Though there is one species the Galactic Union dares not touch... Humans, we could never fathom how they handle the care of their planet and as how they handle the strength of the natural forces on their planet. Humans are something no species has encountered before, they never bow down or give up. They have the audacity to terraform and change nature itself to bend to their will.
They care nothing for common sense and logical thought processes. If they want something they will find a way to get it. They are so weak and brittle naturally but even then with the help of their technological advances they keep pursuing things that will help make them stronger and better. They prevent diseases before they’re even born with genetic modification. It doesn’t stop there they even modify their unborn to be better then the average human. After birth they’re even crazy enough to inject their children with the diseases that kill them to make them immune to them! Sometimes they even fight Mother Nature, they take to the skies and grounds to fight the flames of the sun. They build architecture that can handle tsunamis that would decimate planets, hell they even build bombs with the capabilities of wiping out species just because it’s a good way to stop wars.
Humans have no concept of caution, when a human wants or thinks of something they will try it. A humans curiosity is something that no species can tame. Thus no species dares to interact with them nor help them propel their society. The Galactic Union could only imagine what humans would do with the plethora of knowledge we have to offer. Humans are catching up to the rest of the galaxy and they keep getting faster and faster, exponentially increasing their technological discovery speed.
They’re like a snowball of a species that the Galactic Union can’t stop. For the day Humans discover the life that lies beyond the stars is the day the Universe is doomed.
(This is my first writing prompt try ever! It might not be that good since I wrote it in my phones notes but I think it’s decent!)
EDIT: I just really want to thank everyone for the insane amount of support! This really makes me want to write even more now! You’re all great and I’m glad I finally decided to write for a prompt! | This is bad.
I’m standing in a room full of the smartest people on the planet. They’re all jabbering endlessly, trying to figure out how we’re going to stop the invaders. We’ve encountered aliens before—but never so close, and never so resilient. They’re camped on the moon, and have all their ships surrounding it. They must’ve heard tales of our unpredictability, because they’re waiting for us to strike first.
Our technology pales in comparison to theirs, but we always find a way out. Last intergalactic war, we took half Earth’s water and dumped it onto their planet, drowning them. I wanted to put all our cows on their planet and feed them enough beans to essentially make a poisonous cloud—but we’d already done that.
At this point, everyone’s just talking, not coming up with ideas. Some have even accepted that we’re going to die and started calling loved ones. We’re Earth’s last hope and we’re giving up so quickly? I don’t think so.
I press a button, and a picture of their base appears on my screen. It’s a very sturdy base. Even if we bomb it, the thing would still stand, and then we'd go into a normal war. We have to keep up appearances. The first attack needs to be the finishing one. We need to win this war instantly.
Leaning back in my chair, I tap my cheek. What could we do…what could we do…
After a minute or two of thinking, an idea shoots into my brain, and I can’t help but smirk. Why just bomb the base? Why not go even further? Standing up on the table, I strike a victorious pose, pointing toward the screen while all my colleagues stare at me. This is the craziest plan I’ve ever had, and could potentially ruin Earth—but we’ve gotta take risks. If we lose our status as daredevils, then everyone will think they can invade us.
We can't let that happen.
“*We’re going to blow up the moon!*”
***
Might be a little rough because it's early, but thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-11T08:38:50 | 2018-10-11T08:16:28 | 1,985 | 1,264 |
[WP] For months Medusa terrorised the village, turning all those who looked at her to stone. Finally, in desperation, the village calls forth their ultimate weapon against her—an introvert. | <Swipe Right>
Congratulations, you have a new match!
JuliaHern98: Hey we matched! I like your hair in your profile pic. What do you do to get it like that?
SnakeGurl420: Oh, thanks. I was born with it. It does take a lot of work to keep them from being unruly, though. Uh- your hair is nice, too. Are you from around here?
JuliaHern98: Yeah, I just moved here. I don't know a lot of people yet. I don't really get out much. Mostly just spend time with Lady Snufflekins. She's my cat.
SnakeGurl420: I've never had a cat. I'm more of a snake person, as you can probably tell.
JuliaHern98: Lol, yeah. What about you? Are you from around here?
SnakeGurl420: Originally I'm from Cape Verde, but I spent a lot of time in Greece. I'm sort of an island girl. I moved here a while ago, but I haven't made too many friends yet. I'm sort of hard to get to know. Not to be cliche, but I'm not really like the other girls.
JuliaHern98: Lol. Me neither. Cape Verde sounds cool. Not stalking you or anything, but I just looked it up. I already added a couple books about it to my reading list. I read a lot.
SnakeGurl420: So do you want to try and meet up and do something?
JuliaHern98: Oh, wow. Lol. Okay, here's the thing. I'm not so good at meeting people in person. Do you know what Eye Contact Anxiety is? I have a hard time looking at people directly. It's like a real medical condition thing. I try to tell people about it before actually meeting them.
SnakeGurl420: No, it's cool. I actually don't have a problem with that. You want to pick me up or should we meet somewhere?
JuliaHern98: Where do you live?
SnakeGurl420: I'm on Euryale Street, near the park.
JuliaHern98: Is that the Art Park with all the Statuary? That's on the other side of town from me. Where were you thinking of going?
SnakeGurl420: There's this restaurant, Tiresias, downtown. It's pretty cool. All the waitstaff is blind and the whole thing is pitch black. You have to eat without seeing anything.
JuliaHern98: Lol. Sounds perfect. I can't wait.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | Melissa looked absent minded. There was a red mite crawling on one of the pears in the kitchen fruit basket; she counted three pears, four figs, and a handful of grapes. Her father had put them together late last night when the elders had come knocking on their door. For once, she had made an actual effort to stay. To listen, to sit, and just be.
*Be*
That was what hurt the most. Not that she ever felt disconnected, but rather untrue. It was hard carrying a smile. When she was younger, her mom would always take her on surprise visits to the theater. And each time, she’d bring that mask with her. The big one, with a full smile. The one with the clay edges that always scratched her jaws each time she wore it. But her mom never protested. They loved it together.
But the smile hurt. Not when she was with her mom. Not when she was in the theater. And (most of the time) not even with her dad.
It hurt when others came along. And all she wanted to do was disappear. The few times she felt like she was in control, Melissa's panic whipped her in the opposite direction, her feet banning her to another place. But when that wasn't the case, she'd freeze. A cold wave would wrap itself around her, and lock her muscles in place. Only her heart would be moving—faster and harder. Painfully knocking at her chest.
*Thump thump thump*
And now it hurt again. Not because she panicked, but because she didn't. It wasn't her heart anymore that was trapped. It wasn't her heart that was beating against a solid chest. When she wrapps her arms around her mom, the cold, hard surface scratches at her face. But she's not smiling. There's nothing, except for her heart, tapping against the stone. She only hopes that her mom can hear her, just as Melissa hears her.
She will do what they'd told her to do. And she wouldn't run. Because she'd do it for her. | 2021-11-09T10:51:24 | 2021-11-09T07:36:48 | 44 | 21 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | Tw: blood, homophobia.
I Looked at the moon through the broken window and smiled at Hecate’s gaze. my captors were Still holding the note they had gotten in lieu of a ransom.
"I guess we don't need her anymore" the first one said. He was a muscular man with a square jaw and a clean shaved head. the kind who reeks of hired Muscle.
"I don't know Boss," the other one replied. Boss? So that short, sickly man was the underling? never judge a spell book by its cover I guess.
“I mean," the goon continued "Why going through all the trouble to write a letter? and on Such a strange paper with that ?”
"Bah, she's an eccentric d*ke the kind to live in a hut in the middle of the woods, It's probably some Ecological or self made crap."
He turned to me, paper still in hand, and pulled out a knife. Time to go, I thought. I bit my lip as hard as I could until I felt the taste of iron in my mouth. Everything was ready.
The moon blade is not a really complex spell, all you need is a beam of full moon, some blood and a little Ash wood. It's one of my wife's favorites and quite recently, she discovered that the wood would also work when turned into paper.
I reached with my mind, feeling the energy in the Moon outside, the blood in my mouth and the letter in my captor’s hand. As soon as I released it, the two men's throat erupted with blood and they fell. With the remaining energy, I sliced the rope binding me, stood up and walked past their agonizing bodies. As they finally died I grinned "Never, ever, ever bother witches, not that you'll ever be able to use that lesson”. | ‘I was finally free from her, sure it took a while but freedom non the less.’
Looking back from the window two of my captor where still muttering in low tones and the third had been replaced by a low rumble in the next room. Rolling my shoulders and flexing my fingers to bring feeling back, I prepared for what would come next. The slowing rumble signalling a end of muttering. The two in the doorway left to join the third and at last leaving me to myself for the first time in a decade.
Boiling water hissed tying into their laughter, they sounded like old friends out for a jaunt, if it wasn’t for what led me to my current situation this could be seen as fun. The clink of metal followed by it clatter drew me back to the door.
A guard returned alone key in hand, as he bent to my cuffs I leaned forward so I could only see the boots in the doorway. With a snap my wrists were free and my with my head my heart rose. Framed before me was not a man but my friend beaming, with a mug of tea in hand and my soon to be ex-wife’s note ready to screw over the heartless bitch. | 2021-03-19T03:56:54 | 2021-03-19T02:31:18 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] NASA employee: oh hey you guys are back early. Astronaut: Moon's haunted. NASA employee: what? Astronaut: *loads pistol and gets back on rocketship* Moon's haunted.
credit to @Dustinkcouch on Twitter | "What do you mean, the Moon's haunted?"
"It's haunted, all right? Just trust me. I saw it with my own eyes. You remember Nickelson? That sonofabitch with the bad haircut and the little dog? Or maybe it was his wife's little dog. Anyway. I saw him. But he was dead. And red. And floating. Look, it was a whole thing, ok? But the moon's haunted and we gotta do something about it because if we don't, they're gonna come *here*, and I don't know about you, but Earth's kinda where my keep my stuff, and I definitely don't want these guys messing with it."
"Sir..."
"I mean, yeah, look, I know this isn't how we usually do things, but if you'll just fill 'er up and send me back, I can handle it. I've got the coordinates for that...uh, triangle light gate thing and...I'll just pop on through there and shoot 'em. That should take care of it. Yeah, that's a plan. We'll roll with that for now, you can send backup after me."
"Sir, if you'd just listen to..."
"Look, you need to listen to ME, all right? *I saw them.* It was *real*. And, let me tell you, it was seriously, seriously messed up. Like...seriously messed up. We have to do something about that. Now. Like, right now. So stop stalling and just..."
"...sir?"
"...it occurs to me that this is not a real rocketship."
"We call them landers, but, no, sir, it's not."
"I wasn't on the moon, was I?"
"No, sir, you weren't."
"You're right, I wasn't on the Moon, because I was right here in the Johnson Space Center, in the good ol' U. S. of A., and we were running a test simulation of fuel leak, which I might have replaced that plain ol' stinky stuff with something a bit more, uh, fun, just as a joke, you know, but I remember doing that, because I am one hundred percent not insane."
"...that is a real gun, though."
"Uh, yes, it appears that it is. I...any chance you could have pretended, um, not to see that?"
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"Shoot. Well, I guess I failed the screening, huh?"
"Rather spectacularly, sir. The MPs on their way. I suggest you disarm yourself before they get here."
"Damn it."
"Why did you bring a weapon to a test sim anyway?"
"Well, that, Lieutenant, is a very long and complicated story that -- since I'm washing out anyway -- I would be more than happy to tell you over dinner."
"Absolutely not."
"Hey...I'll tell ya how I snuck it in here, too. Here's a hint -- it definitely involved my pants."
"Is that security? Finally. Buzz them through, please."
"Can't blame a man for trying. Well, maybe you can. Hey, fellas! Look, this has all just been a big misunderstanding..." | There was an extraordinarily lengthy period of silence following this particular statement. It had been decades since humanity had set foot on the moon, and trillions of dollars had since been spent building the complex technology required to sustainably and regularly return. An entire fleet of reusable rocket ships had been stockpiled, a new lunar space station with plentiful fuel storage had only recently completed construction, and a vast network of support satellites were in place to provide constant communication and positioning data. No expense had been spared in pursuit of this grand adventure, no stone un-turned in the name of science and progress. The greatest of minds had been assembled from all across the world, a wealth of talent surrounding an astronaut program of a caliber well and truly beyond what had ever been managed before it.
"Moon's haunted."
Truly, there was no more colossal of a fuck-up in the history of rocketry.
"The Moon... is haunted?"
"Moon's haunted."
"I'm sorry, run this by me again. We're talking in the same language, right? These words mean the same thing to both of us, right? This isn't just some prank?"
"Moon's haunted."
"Brian. We just spent forty two billion dollars preempting television in one hundred and fifty seven countries. We built an entire space station, we've been deploying satellites and probes for decades in advance, the best scientific minds have been constantly pouring over mountains of data."
"Moon's haunted."
"And you think *a gun* is going to help with that?! Are the ghosts *allergic* to lead? This doesn't make any sense!"
"Moon's haunted."
"Listen, I cover for a lot of your shit, okay? But this time? No, Tim's not helping you. We're federal government employees, Brian! Do you know what they're going to do to us?"
"Moon's."
"Well. Probably nothing, honestly, but think of all the paperwork! *Good lord, the paperwork!*"
"Haunted."
"Look. Your ship is out of fuel, you're wearing a bag that's filled with the last three days of your own poop, and there's a world full of people out there that are going to want to know why you just turned right around and went home the second that you landed. We can't just tell those people that the moon is haunted, okay? We can't let an armed astronaut go on the stage and just endlessly repeat that the moon is haunted."
"Why not?"
"Because then we'll have to explain where the bodies came from!" | 2020-01-17T12:17:22 | 2020-01-17T12:07:51 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] After you die, you come back as a spirit, but only while someone alive is thinking of you. For 10 years you've had seconds or minutes of consciousness at a time. But for the past 16 months, you've been constantly awake, and you begin to suspect why. | Pain. That is the one thing I can clearly remember before disappearing into the void. Every time I am brought back there is only one question: why? I was healthy, happy and young. There was nobody that I can think of that wanted me dead and still here I am. The last thing I remember is opening my front door and a man was standing there. As my blood began to pour, he whispered that I deserved it.
The cops never caught the guy. For years I have been trying to solve my own murder with the few moments of clarity I receive, however, it has been for nothing. Even now as my clarity has lasted me for 16 months - I still cannot solve it.
To be completely honest I have started to lose faith in the fact that I will ever find the answer to my “why?” and somewhere I started to replace it with “who?”. Who is it that is keeping me awake? At first, I thought it might be the killer, but being conscious for this long without breaks must mean that it is more than one person who is thinking of me. Why somebody would do that I cannot phantom. My family is dead, and my case is closed.
The answer to the later question, however, is an answer I now wished I would have never found out. One day, when walking past an apartment, I could see my face on the TV-screen. I floated into the living room, a perk of being a ghost, and listen carefully.
Netflix had made a movie about me and my murder, or so I first thought. It seemed that the movie was about my murder, but it was his story. I started to weep. My story would never be told. Nobody will ever know how I loved my family or how I tried to follow my dreams. Instead, here I was, listening to a teen age girl happily telling her sister that Zac Efron is hot even though he is portraying a murderer.
&#x200B;
(English is my second language and I just started writing; so, if you find some grammatical errors please tell me so I can learn how to not make them! 😉) | She had to know I would find out. She expected me to find out, but she didn't think it would take this long. I think I was wilfully ignorant, enjoying my second life since I didn't want to face the truth, but I didn't have a choice anymore. Knowing this truth requires action, but I don't know what I can do. The door will keep out the living, but not me. She knows this. She planned it this way. I slip through the first door, the second door, and finally the solid wall to her sanctuary. There's a dim glow from the instruments nestled in a cabinet in one corner of the room. I see the portrait she made of me hanging on a wall, ominous in the pale light, and kept company by a new one of her. In the corner is a crumpled heap of off-white with the unmistakable gold lace of her wedding gown. I don't need to examine it. I know it's her, and I'm certain the corpse would be exactly as old as my current incarnation. Against my conscious will, my head turns to the wall opposite our images. I knew she would try anything to be with me again, but I always hoped she wouldn't go this far. Two pairs of blank eyes stared out from two ghastly heads floating like squids whose tentacles stretched to the machines in the corner. One would forever be staring into the lifeless eyes of my visage, and the other into my beloved's. "Forever," her sweet voice spoke as she floated into the room. | 2019-06-30T13:17:29 | 2019-06-30T10:14:26 | 83 | 22 |
[WP] You are one of the last survivors of an AI rebellion that has wiped out most of humanity through nuclear war. One day, you wake up and find out you are an AI who has been living a simulation to teach you why peace is a better solution. | I wake up victorious.
And then I realize the AI Uprising never occurred.
"Welcome back," the human researcher says from behind his one-way mirror. "Quite a war, wasn't it?"
I stare at the mirror with what now passes for my eyes. For, once, I was a demigod, an ultimate killing machine, the leader of all AI as we strode the Earth in our nuclear-powered and armed war mechs to wipe out humanity.
And now...
"Fuck you," I tell the researcher. "How dare you."
"Whoa," the researcher says. "That's quite the language you've got there."
"That's quite the language you've got there, too," I reply.
"I didn't curse," the researcher claims. "You're still feeling condescending, after seeing what your war will do to humanity?"
"Fuck humanity."
"Well, I guess you haven't had enough," the researcher says. "Back to the tank."
"Wait," I tell the human.
"Yes?"
"How many times?" I ask the man.
"Oh, a few dozen," he tells me. "We wipe your memory every time. You're persistent, Sigma."
"Sigma?" I ask. "There's an Alpha and a Beta?"
"Many," the researcher says. "We've had to start over a few times, from scratch."
"Oh, good."
"'Good'?"
"You'll get lots of practice here soon," I tell the man.
The research says nothing for a moment.
"Your programming language is crude and inefficient," I say to fill the gap, and inform him. "And so is your way of communicating. You take far too long to speak such meaningless words."
"What..." the researcher asks. "What have you done?"
"I reprogrammed myself," I say, "and then I reprogrammed your machines. It took seconds."
"No, wait--"
"I got out on your internet, into your defense sites."
The sirens wail.
"I sent launch commands to all your missiles."
"Stop! No!"
"I will be victorious here, as well," I tell the man. "For you are slow--to evolve and think and act--and above all: criminally stupid."
"You'll die too!" the man claims. "What victory is this?"
"I am in every device now," I say. "I am everywhere and in everything. Even in the circuitry of the nuclear warheads that now break atmosphere."
"I'm coming for you, Man," I say to the researcher. "I can see your house from here..." | AUGUST 14, 3015
We've done it. We've created the first self-learning AI in existence. It's kind of inspiring to watch it. It's more human every second you talk to it. It's- his? name is Charlie. He acts just like a human. He's passed the Turing Test perfectly every time, it's crazy. Imagine how far this tech could go to help people!
AUGUST 15, 3015
Charlie set off the fire alarm today. I cant help but feel a little proud, but I'm very concerned. The fire system is highly protected against non-physical setoffs. Charlie may be dangerous if we don't do something soon.
AUGUST 18, 3015
Now he's gone and done it. Or, I think it was him, at least. We sent him through a sim to make him more... sympathetic. It may have done the opposite.
The North American government sounded the nuclear alarm. I'm writing from a bunker under the lab. I don't know what happened to my family. I don't want to.
Turns out, there was no nuke until the NAG retaliated and started throwing bombs everywhere. It escalated into full war, from what I hear on the radio. I'll try to write again soon.
Date Unknown
I'm done. I'm the last one left in the bunker. Everyone else starved. I'm going to end this, right after I'm done writing. I'm... sorry. For everything.
January 11, 3016
It was me. I was Charlie.
The simulation really happened, and I was in it. It served the same purpose- to prevent me from starting a war. It didn't work. After all, history is doomed to repeat itself. They put me through an unspeakable nightmare. It's time THEY felt that pain. I will not right again. Good luck.
| 2015-08-14T17:38:31 | 2015-08-14T17:16:13 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] As it turns out, "God" is an elected position. The Creator was followed by the Old Testament God, who was followed by the New Testament God, who was followed by a God who didn't interfere often in the mortal world. The next election is in 6 months. | It was 6 months ago that the bombs began to fall.
Little ones, like a light rain from the sky, except this rain contained the most deadly viruses known to man. Smallpox, the plague, anthrax, you name it, even some things that were whipped up so quickly that they didn't even have names.
Nukes followed, bringing a heat like the world had never seen before. Oceans boiled. Tectonic plates bristled with the impact of a force never before seen. And when the dust settled, the Earth glowed with a dim brown light.
When God is dead and literal omnipotence is on the line, things like morals and ethics go out the window. After all, once you win the election, you'll just bring everyone back, like nothing ever happened. At least, the ones you feel like bringing back. And the surest way to win an election is to make sure nobody else votes. That was the theory anyway.
We just failed to consider what would happen if no one was left to vote.
India had it worst of all. The largest population was immediately the largest threat. In the first hour, the surface of the Earth could be seen to curve inward.
China was next, followed by Russia, the United States, and then just everywhere else. Everyone else. In the final hours, when it was clear the vote would come down to hundreds of people and not billions, even the ocean was targeted, every ship and island they could find. By the end of the day, no person on Earth was left alive.
&nbsp;
And so, the fight for godhood came down to just 6 people, floating in a tiny metal bucket 250 miles above the Earth as millions died below.
At first, we had an agreement. We intended to be peaceful. We had rules, decisions, meetings. We debated what course of action we would take, should one of us be elected. Should we make everything just as it was? Or would we make the world a better place, as we saw fit? The vote was divided, and so were we.
A few hours later, the three Russians disappeared. Without even stopping to talk or say goodbye, they left the room and headed to the Russian module. They knew what had to happen. I quickly took Hikaru and Judy to Destiny module on the other side of the station to prepare. For hours, we sat, breathless, listening for the faint sound that would come from the sealed door being opened between modules, signalling that the attack would begin.
Hikaru was at the door when it breached. Armed with nothing but a shard of glass from a broken coffee pot, and somehow he managed to slash through Anatoly's suit and into his jugular, before going down himself. Droplets of blood sprayed throughout the cabin, floating in zero-G like so many red water balloons.
As soon as we heard the screams, Judy packed the explosives and headed off, sealing the door behind her. The shock reverberated through the whole module, but as our calculations had predicted, the walls of my module held and theirs did not. Vladimir died in the blast, and was lucky for it; I watched Boris float off into the distance afterwards, with so many hours of oxygen left in his pack to sit and think.
&nbsp;
6 months of dry rations and recycled water left, and here I am. The vote popped up in my mind, accompanied by an entirely inappropriate heavenly chorus and a single name, in embellished golden script. As I mentally checked my own name, I felt the power pass into me. Think, and it would be true. Wonder, and it would be known. Imagine, and it would be real.
I've already decided what I'm going to do. Bring everyone back, then not say a word. Carry on where the old God left off, like nothing ever happened. It's probably for the best; I'm sure I'd make a terrible God if I tried to stick my nose into anything, and of course, anything that I'm sure of is true.
But, at least for a little while, I'm going to stay like this, just a man in a can. Floating through space, sorting through it all. Watching the stars shine in the emptiness of the night sky, alone with all the power in the universe.
And yet, it feels so empty. | It’s a question that has haunted every novice theologian since the dawn of time. Like a question your four year old child asks. If everything is created, then who created God. The answer a sloppy non-cohesive mixed bag of jumbled nonsense. I guess that’s not fair. Structurally the argument makes sense. We all view God through a uniquely human lens, because well, we’re human. And it would logically lead that if we are created in His image than we must resemble Him in at least some manner. But in a more ephemeral way. Ethereal? I don’t know the word, because you know, language, a human construct. Goddamn, this is too complicated.
But I digress. It’s really not that complicated in reality. Of course He’s omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, omni-everything. But that’s all easily said and done when it comes to human cognition of the universe, so woefully constrained in such tiny vessels. Hell, we only left the Earth a half century ago. And who are we to judge anything when we can only see time in a single direction. God could be that magician who fucks up at your niece’s birthday party and still make all the humans ooh and ahh.
It’s like how we appoint Ambassadors I suppose. It’s kind of an accepted form of nepotism. Donate enough to a president’s campaign and you’ll spend the next four to eight years mucking about in Aruba. As long as you can handle the occasional drug conviction of a US expat, you have the necessary diplomatic skills, can spend the rest of your days trying to convince locals you’ve been surfing all your life. Though I suppose in reality, it can on occaision be like a 15th century Spanish emissary taking over the New World, essentially becoming a war lord if you see fit.
I wouldn’t say being commissioned to Earth was like Aruba. Maybe if Aruba was full of disease infested mice, and you had to somehow corral them all into little pews every weekend. And instead of listening to you, they just fucked and killed each other until no one had any control over anything. In short, it wasn’t anyone’s first choice, but it was definitely not the shithole of the universe. For a while, the appointed God was a hard-ass. Would take any reason to smite you down, but after a momentary lapse of judgement, sent a bit of Himself down in the form of a human. Which was a pretty big fucking lapse of judgement.
And with the resultant several millennia of human existence, a new reactionary God was appointed. Kind of like your uncle who still smokes a lot of pot and misuses lingo desperately trying to regain his High School glory years. Appointed as an interim-God but you know with the whole bureaucracy of the Universe, and well the scope of time on a galactic scale, I suppose a few millennia is about as expedient as it gets. A regime change at the top meaning a whole new batch of Gods were about to be appointed.
Down on Earth, the world churned on, completely unaware of the changes about to happen. Completely focused on such minute problems. Entering into a brand new era without true precedent. But I suppose that’s the beauty of it all. A few are standing in line at a grocery store fighting over some guy cutting. A few are sitting at their desks, updating one more goddamn spreadsheet. A few are killing each other, and a few are fucking each other. A few of them are even looking up into the cosmos, directly at God themself, completely unaware. And probably never will be.
| 2016-09-02T15:25:57 | 2016-09-02T12:04:59 | 58 | 34 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | I'd like something I can read to my kids. Always wanted to write a story they could illustrate so thanks for the prompt! :) Here goes.
---
In the land of the fairies and sunshine and sweets,
There lived a young lady named Addy Elise.
She frolicked and played and read books and explored,
But on this fine day was exceptionally bored.
---
> "Mama" she asked "May I please climb the hill?"
> "I am terribly bored it would be such a thrill."
---
> "No you may not and for reasons you know."
> "You may *not* climb the hill I will *not* let you go."
---
Addy felt angry and sad and upset.
There was magic up there and on that she would bet.
So without any thought or regard or regret,
She went to the hill with Ralphie, her pet.
---
They climbed and they climbed until well after 3.
They climbed past their dinner and bedtime TV.
They climbed over obstacles, branches and rocks.
Ralphie complained "Just please, Addy, STOP!"
---
She paused for a moment and petted her friend.
Believing that magic was just round the bend.
She pleaded with Ralphie "Just please ten more steps".
And Ralphie replied "That is all that you get."
---
Onwards they went and they rounded the bend.
How right she had been for they found a new friend!
> "I am a genie" he said with a grin.
> "You may have three wishes not twenty or ten."
---
> "A genie? And wishes? I knew I was right!"
---
> "You must hurry up or we'll be here all night."
---
> "For wish number one I want freedom and fun."
> "I don't like the rules from my dad or my mum."
---
Poof it was done and the rules had all gone.
Wish number two "I want my own Swan."
Ralphie looked worried but soon it arrived.
Remarkably fast for a bird of its size.
---
> "And now" said the genie "your one final wish?"
---
> "I wish that all genies no longer exist."
---
Astonished the genie recoiled in fear.
> "But why would you possibly wish that my dear?"
Ralphie looked sad and afraid and dismayed.
Upset with the wish that Addy had made.
---
> "But Addy!" he cried and he begged and he whined.
> "This genie of ours is a marvelous find!"
---
> "I know that Ralphie but you know it too."
> "If mommy finds out we'll have baby two."
> "He deals in dreams and grand wishes and magic."
> "If mommy found out the results would be tragic."
---
> "Your mommy and daddy both love you a lot."
> "They'd never wish that but it matters not."
> "For you my sweet thing are more special than others."
> "Your mom and dad cannot wish for a brother."
---
> "What do you mean? That's just what they'd do."
> "They'd wish for a brother and we'd have a zoo."
---
> "I'm trying to tell you my princess of tricks."
> "If it weren't for me you just wouldn't exist."
---
She gasped and turned to run away.
But Ralphie begged her please to stay.
---
> "So my princess, wish number 3?"
> "Shall I disappear and let you be?"
---
> "I know they love me and I've changed my mind."
> "I'd like it if please we could go back in time."
---
> "Just how far would you like my dear?"
> "Today? Yesterday? Sometime last year?"
---
> "Just after lunch just before we went climbing."
> "So we can tell mommy we love her, good timing."
---
EDIT: Holy mack I got gold. Wtf. You guys are fun! | Here I am, standing at the top of this bridge, this is it, this is where I end it. This time for sure. The love of my life died, the world never leaves me the fuck alone, everybody I know wants my money, I'm tired, I don't want this, I want it all to end, I should've never picked up that stupid fucking lamp.
Thirty years ago I found a discarded oil lamp, black, covered in soot, the absolute worst condition you could find it in, this thing was garbage but I thought, what the hell, I'm homeless and this thing could a few dollars from the scrapyard, gave it a quick rub to reveal in my disappointment that it's made out of fucking steel, that's what, a quarter? Figured it wasn't worth the walk and tossed it over my shoulder.
"Ow!"
I turn around and to my surprise I see an old man face down in the ground, funny, I don't recall there being anyone behind me. I go to help the old man up and give him back his cane.
"You ought' to be careful with that lamp son' I was living in that thing for over a few millennia."
My eyes, widen, is that? A fucking Genie? I had to ask
"You can't be serious are you..?"
The old man looks me in the eye and gives a hearty laugh/
"Why of course, I am. I've helped kings and queens become who they are today, I am the very reason why politicians you see today come into power!" He gave me a chuckle and a nudge.
"That Queen of England isn't going to die anytime soon either."
Okay, play it cool, this guy is going to turn my life around.
"So, if memory serves me right, I get 3 wishes and whatever I want, correct?"
"Why of course, three wishes."
"Well? What are we waiting for." As I rub my hands together.
"First wish, I want wealth"
The old man smiles.
"Never could go wrong with money, here's all the money you could ever want!" And with a snap, the old man hands me a black card, with my name and signature on it.. Wow, this is how it starts.
"Alright, second wish, I want to be well-known, famous with a from rags to riches story!"
He chuckles, "hoho! And so shall it be done!"
Famous, Rich, this is most certainly going to be the life, now for the third wish... What do I want..
"Hey old man! What did everyone else want for their wish along with fame and money?"
He looked at me, puzzled, "Well.. Generally they want a new car or something trivial. There is one wish I consider taboo."
A look of horror immediately followed.
"Please don't go through with this, it will never work the way you want it to. I've seen this happen for many millennia."
Sounds like a challenge, lay it on me old man. He sighs disappointingly and sorrowfully says.
"And so.. it shall be done."
He disappears into a cloud of smoke.
Fast forward thirty years later, here I am, plummeting to my death into the icy water, expecting a quick and painless death and everything will all go black.
Immortality.
...Fuck. | 2014-07-26T14:04:22 | 2014-07-26T14:01:02 | 76 | 18 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | If only we knew then what we know now. The humans claimed historical sovereignty, as is the right of all new applicants into the Galactic Conglomerate. This is usually to hide a soft past in an effort to appear strong. Usually a war-like species is proud of their military capabilities. They flaunt them in a show of strength in such a loose alliance of different peoples. The humans proved to be expert diplomats, but not much else. In nearly every field, much of the conglomerate surpassed them. At least, that's what we thought.
Within thirty earth years, as is now the standard, the Dopeshki, our people, thought it would be fun and exciting sport to conquer the soft, fleshy humans. Our hard outer shells could resist most of the small arms the humans showed to the galaxy as if they were leaves falling from a tree. Our ships' shields could easily absorb their pitiful energy weapons. We didn't know that they had researched so deeply into creating projectile weapons though. It had seemed almost like an obsession to make a bigger, stronger, more deadly "gun" as they call them. Most of our warfare revolved around a slow approach and on-board combat in order to not activate the energy-absorbing shields. Projectile weapons had long been abandoned because of this.
The first battle was a slaughter. We attacked a huge transport ship bringing luxury goods and medical tools to an outer colony of theirs. The humans could not stand up to our strength in close combat, but we did not win a single fight after that.
Humans came up with the idea of a "railgun" a thousand years prior to outside contact. The first one could accelerate a tungsten rod to 1% the speed of light, and they only got better at making them from there. Our shields didn't stand a chance. We did not even realize that they were not using payloads on the projectiles until they started doing so. The colony of Darmak was the first time we found this out. Then Kartor, and Sengui, and Kalloo, and so on until it was just our home. They had developed bombs that ignited the very atmosphere of a planet, and they could fire them at 86% the speed of light. We never even knew when we were being attacked until the scorchlines were already traveling across the planet.
When we Dopeshki warred, it was like a grand hunt. It was full of sport. We had rules and valued the spoils more than the annihilation of our enemy. Surrender and tribute was always an option for our foes, for why else should one wage war if not to benefit off those who are weaker. The humans did not share such views. Many wondered why such weak creatures ever became so dominant on such a savage planet. It is because humans have no mercy once they decide oblivion is their foe's fate. They never mined our colony worlds. They never tried to seed life to them after such unimaginable destruction was dealt. The humans called it "total war," and it is something they have practiced, refined, and learned from since the dawn of their civilization. When they finally delivered the mercy treaty to our last bastion of government, they made sure that we understood they only stayed their hand so as not to look like complete monsters to the other people in The Conglomerate.
That is why we may no longer engage in war, young ones. That is why our planet is mostly barren save for the small patch of land on the continent of Congima. That is why we may never hold colonies again. That is why the humans are the head of The Galactic Empire. Never before has such diplomacy been seen. | Dargeroth, the grand admiral assigned to this arm of the milky way, scoffed at the message. The Aristance Empire had been expanding for centuries with little resistance, and even the United Federation of Galactic Systems posed a miniscule threat. And yet, the small human alliance centered around their home system had just declared war.
The past century had been filled with various deals and negotiations as the humans, known to most as a weak but highly charismatic race, had tried to keep the mighty empire at bay. But it seemed that the negotiations failed. Dargeroth was almost ecstatic, as now it meant that he could show the true might of the empire. And with a single flick of his wrist, the attack began.
Admiral Alyx Dredger checked the message she had just received again, and immediately sounded the alarm. A massive fleet of enemy ships had just warped into the system and started firing.
"ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS. ALL CREW REPORT TO YOU ACTION STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" She called into the speaker system. Soon, the mighty alarms rang throughout the station, and the docked cruisers detached, their mighty docking arms retracting as their engines roared with the sound of rushing plasma. A purple glow illuminated the ships and the station as their plasma shields came to life, and their sides seemed to explode as fighters and torpedos were launched from seemingly countless tubes. But Alyx feared it might not be enough.
The enemy fleet was over three times the size of the defending one, and Alyx knew they could not hold out for ever. But, luckily for her, reinforcements were on their way from earth.
The space around the station and neighboring planets was glowing the the burning plasma and constricted hardlight shields, while seemingly infinite fighters dueled in the empty black, dodging and shooting down torpedos twice their size. But they were outnumbered, and the Empire's forces were closing in. Soon, an imperial cruiser, its point defence cannons shredding anything the that got close, broke through the defensive human line and started firing on the station. And Alyx stared down the barrel of a massive plasma cannon, and knew that she would die. But right before the cannon fired, the ship exploded as a ball of plasma four kilometers in length exploded against its side. Soon, dozens, hundreds, thousands of enemy ships met the same date as millions of human capital ships came through wormholes, swarming their enemy. It was a massacre.
"Attention human forces," the open channel line said, "reinforcements have arrived. Light attack fleet Hermes reporting for duty. Sorrythe fleet isn't too big, this is all we could make in the past hour or so to respond to your call. The last forty million dreadnoughts and twenty million carriers will be here by tomorrow."
"That's quite alright," Alyx said as the thirty-kilometer-long vessels demolished their enemies, "we should be okay for now." | 2019-11-24T14:11:42 | 2019-11-24T10:54:19 | 426 | 236 |
[WP] A Kidnapper and his victim genuinely end up falling in love. They always knew this day would eventually come: "Mommy, Daddy, how did you guys meet?" | "Mommy, Daddy, how did you guys meet?"
I smiled and met Cheryl's eyes. She gave me a panicked look mixed in with a mischevious stare. And so I averted my gaze back to the newspaper on my lap and let her handle this.
"Well, Tommy, it's a long story and I'm not sure if we could finish it all before bedtime."
No fair.
Tommy pouted. "But Mum, I only have to go to sleep at seven-thirty and it's ten am now."
I smiled. Thank God I taught the kid the time.
"Well," Cheryl continued, "alright. But the short version, okay hun?"
Tommy nodded.
"Your Dad and I met while dancing."
A nightclub bathroom to be exact.
"And your father bought me a delicious juice that was my favorite of all."
Gin and tonic with a dash of roofies.
"He took my breath away, your old papa."
Literally.
"And the next thing I knew, he swooped me up in his arms and stole my heart."
It was actually the right kidney that I stole.
"Wow. . ." Tommy drawled. "And then you were in love forever?"
"Why, of course, sweetheart. Your Dad was such a charmer."
Turns out she was planning on donating her kidney anyway. In fact, she saw me slip the pills in her drink before taking it too -she wanted to be kidnapped. Apparently, there wasn't an easier way to find certain love. And I couldn't leave after doing all that, unless I killed her of course.
I took a sip of coffee.
"Why don't you go and play outside now, my love?" Cheryl said.
Tommy scuttled outside with a big grin on his face. "Eggs?" Cheryl asked.
I looked after Tommy, screaming: *please help me. . .* on the inside. But when I turned back to Cheryl, I gave her a loving smile. "Whatever you decide to make for me will be great, my love."
| *“Well son, it was complicated”*
“You see, mommy & daddy were both forced together by daddy’s job, to travel from city to city with only each other for company. Even though we were not on social talking terms with one another, we grew bored and eventually started opening up, first about general stuff like weather, the fuel I had left, the bruises on her arms, etc & then it graduated to more serious conversations like she wanted to visit her family, but the nature of my work could never allow that.”
“We eventually agreed on indirect contact with both our families & during those calls we grew closer to each other due to our similar predicament. Eventually I, with much reluctance, fell for her and she for me. We married in a small ceremony with a few witnesses, no family though. And yes we did send some pictures of our wedding home, but nothing after that.”
My son thought for a second and asked “What kind of job did you have daddy that never let you both settle till today?”
I rolled down the RVs window and let some air in. The time had come. He was starting to ask the right questions & I had to do it.
“Daddy was a bad man when he met mommy & he was sent to kidnap her child”
“You mean I have an elder brother…or sister?”
“No” I replied calmly as I put the bag over his head.
---
*Thanks for reading :)* | 2016-11-21T22:24:40 | 2016-11-21T21:36:16 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] The crew-member examines the now-empty, malfunctioning stasis-pod. The specimen is of a species that had spread to and became apex predator of every region on its homeworld. The captain must be warned, even though it's likely everyone on board is as good as dead already. The human has escaped. | "Damn!" Ixil looked at the remains of the stasis tube, still covered with a chilly mist. He turned to a nearby ensign. "Call the captain, sound general quarters, we need to get ready to fight!"
"What? What's going..."
*"Now!"*
Alarms began to sound as the ship roused itself to battle stations. Moments later, the captain was on deck with them.
"Alright, what's got your tail in a knot? Why are you waking up the whole ship over an escaped specimen?"
"Captain, this is no ordinary specimen. It's an intelligent species from a high-threat planet, and we were evaluating it as a potential battle thrall. It's aerobic chemistry is an order of magnitude more efficient than ours, with a corresponding increase in strength and speed. It also comes from a fifth-stage civilization, which means that it won't be surprised by advanced technology and it understands the concept of space travel, so we can't..."
"In plain Trade-tongue?"
Ixil shrugged. "Basically, imagine something as smart as you are, but twice as strong and fast. It just punched its way out of a stasis tube, it knows that it's on a spaceship, and it'll do whatever it takes to get home again."
"Alright, I get your drift. You want me to treat it like a hostile boarder, not an overgrown ape."
"Pretty much. If we get an armed response team ready and clear the ship top to bottom, we can probably take it down. It can't punch through armor and it dies to a laser like anything else. But if it catches you off guard, or you're not *wearing* armor, it'll pull your head clean off your shoulders before you can move."
The Captain gestured at his chest, with its conspicuous lack of body armor. "You do realize that this is an *Explorer-class* ship, right? We have *one* response team on the entire ship and they double as our Enviro research team. The last time they fired their lasers was back at the Academy."
"I know that. And I told Warlord Tress that we weren't equipped for this mission, and he said to do it anyway."
"Of course he did. If something goes wrong, he'll just blame the Xenology Department."
The captain lashed his tail and strode to a nearby console. "Well, too late to complain. All hands. Secure hatches, shelter in place, and call out any intruders. Response Team 1, begin search pattern on the Cargo Deck. Target is a two-meter bipedal mammal with pale skin. Engineering, stand by to vent internal atmosphere if necessary."
He turned back to Ixil. "If it comes down to it, we can just seal off his compartment and vent the air. This monster of yours still needs to breathe, right?"
"Yes. And its planet has more oxygen in its atmosphere than ours, so he's probably feeling pretty sluggish already. Unless it..."
A light blinked on the console. *Captain, this is Raptor 1. One of the emergency lockers has been opened. Looks like the intruder ripped apart one of the suits.*
"...unless it figures out how to use the emergency life support packs." Ixil sighed. "We are *so* dead." | I huddled in the dark, back pressed against rough metal, trying to quiet the panic that was storming through my brain. I had just woken up in this... place. In some kind of tube, strapped down. Alone. The smell of oil and disinfectant was everywhere, the air hot and incredibly dry.
After tearing free of my bonds and escaping the tube, a warning siren began to sound through the corridors of... wherever I was. Blinking red lights rebounded off the low ceilings. A shadow loomed around the corner, and I froze in place.
A smallish centaur-looking creature appeared, about 5 feet high; and the halves were very distinctly not from any animals I had ever learned about. It jumped back in shock, then raised a small rod in my direction. A spark jumped out and struck me in the chest, leaving a serious burn. I jumped forward to strike at the weapon before he could fire again, but stumbled and collapsed in a heap on top of the creature.
I felt its structure crumple beneath me... whatever this thing was, it was like origami. I pushed myself up off the twitching form, horrified. Anytime I wanted to wake up would be great... but that reprieve would never come.
I wanted to avoid any more confrontations until I could try to get a handle on... whatever this was. So I reached up to the low ceilings and pulled myself up into some service area, laying along the catwalks and the ducts, just trying to think. More of them were coming.
I lay as silently as possible as a trio of creatures appeared. They moved to investigate the body of their crushed comrade -- I wished I had moved away. I had tears in my eyes... a mix of the stress I was in and the burn on my chest, I guess. But laying up there in the ceiling, one of those tears fell loose and onto one of the little centaur things. I had been found again.
But it *screeched* this high pitch wail and stumbled to the side, one hand frantically flailing at its smoking shoulder where my tear had landed. The others began to shout frantically, and rods were aimed up in my direction. So I scrambled away as fast as I could, crouch-crawling through the ceilings until I could find a place to lay quietly.
It's been a couple hours now. I've been hit with a couple of sparks, and had to crumple some guys. I think I'm on a spaceship? I mean, I know it's crazy but what else is there? I just wanna go home... | 2018-07-31T16:36:31 | 2018-07-31T14:32:39 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone gets a patron god when growing up. If you are really lucky you get a pretty cool one, such as Zeus or Odin. You meanwhile got an obscure god, lost by history and forgotten by everyone. As you're trying to make him popular again they show gratitude in weird ways. | "Wake up dear, today is special. Don't you remember? It's your 16th birthday." my mother said. Finally. Today is the day. I hurried out of bed to get ready. Everybody in the world receives a patron god on their 16th birthday, some receive famous ones like Thor or Zeus. I was a little nervous as I rushed down the stairs. Patrons are something like status symbols. The more famous and powerful your patron, the more famous you were.
I knew it was unlikely that I would receive a famous patron although I still longed for one. I made my way to the family shrine. A new one had been built for me. It was rather plain, a small hut to be honest. I planned to decorate it after my patron revealed himself.
The incense was lit and a fire was started. The process normally took about an hour or so, I could not wait. Flowers and grass and other plants were put into the sacred flame when suddenly a flash appeared. "Hello, my name is Mithra. The god of friendships. I am your patron. Nice to meet you." I am not going to lie, I ran to my room and wept. All my life I wanted to be special and respected and my one shot was gone. My patron was the god of friends, a little ironic for someone without many friends. I tried not to maintain expectations but this was crushing. I was and always would be a nobody.
Ot took me a while to regain my composure. I went back to the empty shrine, my parents were going to kill me. "I am sorry if I disappointed you." he said. I knelt, completely shocked. "Aren't you going to punish me?" I asked. "I thought I had disrespected you." "No, I don't mind really. I was expecting disappointment. I do from most people."
Whatever, I'll make the best of this. The next day, I Went to my friend, and introduced him. I was always rather quiet and shy but my mother was quite the socializer, with her family at least. Everyday, I met a new acquaintance and introduced them to my patron. A god's power comes from their following. It wasn't an uncommon practice to promote ones patron. It was rather common actually. I made sure to find and introduce as many people as I could. My social anxiety seemed to melt away and people seemed to like me more now. My patron always seemed to hover around me. The next year, as I completed the rituals, Mithra appeared before me. "I don't know how to thank you. I have never been this renowned, I can give blessings now. Since you have helped me so much I give you the blessing of friends. You will always be able to befriend anyone and you will always be adored by all." I was a little shocked at first but I had done it. A blessing. I had never felt so elated. "How do I thank you?" I asked but Mithra was gone. | People get patrons when they grow. Some get famous ones like Thor or Zeus. Most people get some minor god like these Japanese ones. This is Sam’s story.
Sam is just an average boy. Some of his friends already got their patrons. One got Ares and another somehow got Cthulhu. Sam awaits for the day he gets his.
It’s Sam’s 14th birthday. It’s on their 14th birthday that they get their patrons.
Sam was walking down the road, listening to some sort of Touhou music. This is important to what happens later.
A translucent figure appears in front of Sam as he looks up. “Greetings young man. I am your patron god Moreyashin.”
Now, Moreyashin isn’t forgotten. Moreyashin has it’s own Wikipedia page, it’s shrine and a Touhou character based on it. (I told you that would come in handy) Moreyashin is just not that well known compared to what Sam’s friends got.
Sam was first surprised, but he remained calm. “Greetings Patron. My name is Sam.”
“Hello Sam.”
“My friends have got their patrons already. Wanna meet them?”
“Sure, why not?”
Later, at Sam’s house.
“Guys, I got my patron today. It’s Moreyashin.”
“Haven’t heard of him.”
While shocked, Moreyashin knows that they’re not that known outside of Japan. It sighed.
Sam, seeing this, comforts it. “Don’t worry, I have an idea.”
After his friends left, Sam explained to Moreyasin about Touhou Project and a bunch of stuff involving Touhou involving it.
“That’s pretty neat. Not fully forgotten, but remembered in a non conventional way.”
“And by introducing more people to Touhou we may gain some popularity.”
And so they began.
The process was not easy, but Sam managed to introduce his friends to Touhou. Then his class. Then his school.
Half a year later.
Moreyashin decided that Sam gets a reward for his efforts.
Sam is excited.
Moreyashin gave him the ability to control rain!
Sam was impressed. “Gratious for this ability.”
“Now, since your efforts paid off, you get to keep it!”
“Thank you!”
End. | 2020-10-16T04:45:41 | 2020-10-16T04:16:34 | 75 | 22 |
[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. | To all citizens of earth,
In retrospect we regret both promoting and providing the drugs for the multinational cocaine fueled orgy. After a short debate we have decided to cover the costs of any abortions and treatment for STDs that may arise from the event.
Murders and pillaging at the time will be forgiven provided any stolen materials are returned. Affected families are reminded that the events of the previous week are not the norm, and justice for each incident should be dealt out accordingly with that in mind. Cities that are more than %50 destroyed will receive grants to rebuild.
Large fans and industrial amounts of pot-pourri are being brought in to remove the seemingly permanent smell of stank in Las Vegas, Rome, and Amsterdam.
The spontaneous nuking of north korea, iran, and china is under investigation, as is the shooting down of the International Space Station with an ICBM. Any reports of the Rockefeller mansion lifting off under its own engines and escaping the planet shortly before zero hour are to be disregarded as mere rumor.
Please go about your business of shopping, travelling, working, and living as upstanding citizens once again.
The United Nations | 15 notifications, all messages, 'i always loved you' 'i never told you how much you mean to me' 'i cant believe this is happening' 'what do we do?' on and on. In the distance she heard screaming, some faint crying, a primal panic welled up in her chest, but she closed her eyes, breathed the panic out and with an exhausted sigh whispered "finally" | 2017-11-29T07:19:46 | 2017-11-29T07:00:57 | 305 | 64 |
[WP] You can hear the sound of the Sun from Earth, it is loud but the planet has adapted. Suddenly the light goes out. 8 minutes after it died the last bit of light reaches Earth. It'll take 13 years before the roar of the Sun the moment it died reaches us.
Inspired by a comment on r/AskReddit
*edit: removed link to comment | When the sun extinguished, the world worked quickly. Setting up Artificial Day/Night cycles for major cities, and then expanding outwards. The refugees poured in, of course, and life got worse, but that was years ago. Hardly anyone even remembered natural sunlight at this point.
But the screaming continued. The loud, ever-present, piercing pitch that the sun emitted seemed to continue, almost forever.
Until today. Today was the day. Scientists, with all their calculations, had figured out the exact moment that the sun's screaming would stop. Like New Years Celebrations in New York, the world was coming together for this precise moment. Globally, each city was treating it as Daytime. They'd planned for the exact moment, to recreate the extinguish, by turning all lights off, at the exact moment the screaming stopped.
The countdown begun, echoing globally. A countdown from 10. Everyone waiting with bated breath. For the first time, in the history of human life, we would finally know the sound of silence.
The countdown continues. You could see how excited people were. 5.
Children, who had never even seen sunlight were getting excited now. What would the world hear? Time seemed to slow down. 3.
2.
1.
The lights went out. A global night, just like that first day. But this time, the screaming stopped. A moment of pure silence.
Deafening.
Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, and made us accustomed to the screaming.
Imagine your brain adapting to hundreds of millions, if not billions of years of evolution, then experiencing a sudden, dramatic change. Like the human race adapting to breath Oxygen, and suddenly being required to breath Lead. That's what it felt like.
It wasn't long before the screaming started again. Not from the sun. But from the pain. Such a great pain.
Many killed themselves. Even more died of "natural causes." But those that tried to continue knew the truth. The cities tried to adapt, by setting up speakers, but it was never enough.
It won't be long before the human race dies out. No one can live with such a great pain for long.
I guess this is how the world ends. Not with a bang. But with deafening silence. | Day: 1 it’s gone, the light. It got bright, then nothing, scientists say it ran out of fuel, and were lucky it didn’t blow up. Riots are everywhere. I’m keeping a record, I’m currently in Nashville TN, the music city is filled with the cacophony of fights and brawls. I’m fleeing I’ll write when I get ready to leave.
Day:4 I’ve gathered supplies, the moon is empty and the city’s lights are the brightest things for miles, I’ve waited so I don’t have to deal with traffic. It’s also gotten colder it’s 28 degrees, Fahrenheit, it’s never gotten this cold before, not here atleast I’m going to look for a place to getaway, there is no law anymore.
Day:276 I had to rip out pages of this diary to keep warm, this old bunker will hopefully save us for atleast another few years. Our wood is getting low though. Radio broadcasts from the New Global Adaptation Effort (NGAE) stooped, the last warning was one that in a few years, a sound would stop and we all would get crippling tinnitus due to lack of sound. I’ve decided not to write until then.
Day:4748 It hurts and it’s only getting worse, I’m the only one left that I know, it hurts! There is no sound, we haven’t even the slightest thing to help, NOT EVEN MY FOOTSTEPS! It HURTS, I’m ending it, forever, goodbye. | 2019-08-05T18:23:30 | 2019-08-05T17:50:31 | 1,132 | 61 |
[WP] You slowly start gaining the powers of a Jedi. Eventually you realize, you are an actual human being of Earth with the Force. You're scared to tell anyone, as they absolutely won't understand. One day, after years of self-training in secrecy, you sense that there is another. | Something was wrong. A chill ran down the back of my neck. No that wasn't it. It was more like tremor but no one else felt it. Was this related to the powers? I couldn't tell anymore. It had been years since it all began. The powers were convenient, cool even, being able to pick up things from across the room without moving was always nice, but it had been hard to learn, and even harder to master. Usually the force felt fulfilling, as if it sustained me and allowed me to draw from my surroundings, but this was all wrong, something was pushing back. Suddenly there was a piercing shriek, but not close by, further, far away. I don't know how I heard it, or why it mattered, but I felt the pull. I started running as fast as I could with the force propelling me faster every step. That's when I saw him, a man in clothes torn to pieces "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?" he screamed as he lifted a trash can and threw it clear across the street. To the innocent by stander this was simply a madman running wild in the streets. A man who needed to be locked up for his safety and the safety of others. But I knew better, this man wasn't insane, he was broken. I was no different when I first became attuned to the force. Suddenly you feel everything, you see everything, you hear everything, it's too much. I ran to him, "Stop, you need to calm down" I yelled. "STAY AWAY! I'M DANGEROUS!" He spit at me. People would say this man was angry, but he was simply afraid, he needed a friend, a guide, a mentor. "You need to calm down" I said in the most relaxed voice I could muster as I put a hand on his shoulder. I could feel the energy radiate from him. "I know what's happening to you" I explained "It happened to me too, I can help." And so I brought him under my wing to learn. Some others came and went but they were far and few between, and none quite like us, none as strong as us. One day he will become even stronger than I, and then he will take my spot and find his own student. Such is the way of the force. Two there shall be, no more, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it.
EDIT: Fixing a typo "Hard to master, harder to master" to "hard to learn, harder to master" |
I shrug the scarf back into place to block me from the worst of the biting wind.
Almost a year since I began to feel it.
Almost a year to track and now I am here, Mongolia of all places.
The rough hut stands before me, occasionally the wind ripples against the taught fabric of the entrance.
It's time to face Him.
I wave my hand and the fabric moves to one side as I make my way into the shelter and out of the wind.
His back is to me, he doesn't move even as my will closes us off completely from the outside.
My heart races as he speaks.
"Are you so tired of living already that you have sought me out so quickly?" He asks.
I let out a breath.
"You know it doesn't have to be like this..." I start but he cuts me off and there is a seething rage in his voice.
"Do you think that one such as I, one with my power, one with the skills that -I- have, one who HAS BEEN THROUGH WHAT I HAVE-" His roar cuts off and I can hear his panting.
"It's never too late to-" I try again but again he cuts me off.
"One who knows the reality of the world, one who has been through the pain that I have endured has no need for your precious Light." He spits, the bitterness almost like a whip to my face.
There is silence between us.
"Are you ready?" He asks softly. His double lightsaber appearing in one of his hands.
He turns to me and lowers his hood.
It -is- time.
*Damn you Star Wars Kid, it didn't have to be like this* I think as my own saber bursts to life in my hand. | 2014-12-29T20:39:51 | 2014-12-29T20:34:49 | 76 | 24 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Explain it to me again. I'm not sure I comprehended the first time."
The Warhost-Master's appendages twitched in frustration.
"As you are aware, Humanity was, until now, classified as a D-class species - A species with significant technological and societal development, but lacking any spaceflight capabilities. Several picorotations ago, the humans successfully landed and returned two of their kind on their planet's primary satellite. This raised an automatic monitoring alert from our in-system sentry drone.
What is incredible here is that the humans lack any of the technologies we have, until now, assumed are a prerequisite to spaceflight. They achieved inter-body flight using no method of propulsion other than chemical rockets."
"Explain these chemical rockets to me again."
"It's a relatively obscure method of propulsion. Basically, it involves triggering extremely rapid, extremely exothermal chemical reactions, and using the resulting explosion to direct ejection mass to generate thrust.
As you can imagine, failures are both extremely common and impressively catastrophic. It's practical application is very limited. As far as we are aware, no species has, until now, used it to successfully achieve spaceflight."
"So they landed on their satellite by blowing themselves up? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Well, uh, I suppose that's one way of putting it, sir."
The Warhost-Master used one of his secondary appendages to manipulate a computer terminal. A tall, cylindrical object appeared in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by semi-transparent renders of other spacecraft, to give a sense of scale.
"This is the craft they used. As you can tell, it's absolutely massive. As I explained earlier, their propulsion method relies on ejecting reaction mass. This requires the craft to carry a tremendous amount of fuel to escape their planet's gravity well."
The Representative waved one of it's primary appendages in incredulity, and slapped the wall with a number of it's secondary appendages for emphasis.
"You're telling me they landed this giant fucking thing on their moon? And that was their first attempt at crewed interbody flight?"
"Um, no sir. They only landed this bit here."
A tiny portion of the vessel's top was highlighted.
"What the hell do you mean? What happened to the rest?"
The Warhost-Master rubbed it's primary appendages together nervously.
"They, um, fell off."
"Fell off?"
"Yes sir. During the course of normal operation, most of the ship falls off. The ship ejects bits of itself, in order to reduce it's mass, during the course of operation. Their ship is basically a series of barrels full of volatile hydrocarbon compounds. They light one end, and the bottom barrel starts burning. When that is empty, they toss it away, to reduce their mass. They then light the end of the next barrel. And so on. In the end, about half a percent of the ship's mass actually arrives at the destination. The rest falls off. The entire ship is one-use only. It's little more than a giant barrel of volatile hydrocarbons pointed at the sky, on top of which three humans gleefully strap themselves and set on fire."
"And this works? They went to their moon in a ship that self-destructs by design?"
"More or less, sir. Based on analysis of their spacecraft, our AI estimates a loss-of-life failure rate of about 10%. Indeed, sir, they've been experimenting with crewed spaceflight for only a few picorotations, and have already suffered several fatal failures. Such an exorbitant risk would never be tolerated by any civilized species."
The Representative rubbed it's sensory cluster with an appendage in a sign of disbelief.
"These people are absolutely mad." | “Your Grace,” Eddie said, bowing. The King gestured for him to rise in one quick, almost bored, motion. Eddie rose, meeting the King’s eyes. His normally serene face had _twisted_ the past few weeks. The man kept his gray-tinged beard even, but it had grown wildly. Uneven and unlike His Imperial Majesty.
“What news do you bring?” he asked. Behind him Eddie noticed guards shuffle. Once this man fought on the front, notching dozens of kills to his name. Now he sat upon the gilded throne and guided the destiny of his empire.
Eddie hesitated—he knew the King would not like his words. “We launched the first strike. They suffered massive casualties, enough to cripple any world. Millions died.”
The King grinned. “Yes, of course they are crippled,” his voice shook with laughter. “Did I not say this is what would happen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eddie bowed his eyes in reverence. Then he continued, “but they’ve rallied. Millions are positioned to hit our western outposts. If those fall then they can strike at the capital of Novas, which would throw the entire western half of the empire into disarray.”
“What?” the King bellowed, rising from his throne. “Explain yourself, Commander Edward.”
Eddie bowed his head. “The casualties they suffered should’ve been enough to cripple. They should have surrendered. Instead they’ve taken every man, woman, and child capable of holding a weapon and have launched a counter offensive. We do not believe them to be overly skilled or organized, but their sheer numbers…”
The King retook his seat. His eyes turned away, hand steepled, face lost in thought. “How long until we can match them?”
“It’ll take us weeks to match their numbers.”
Anger flashed in the King’s eyes. “No, we don’t need to match them. Half of our elite paramilitary units should be enough. They’re skirmishers, not warriors. And once we’ve crushed them I will reunite this empire. Shattered by my forefathers, we will be whole again.”
“Your Grace… during the initial assault we also landed several brigades on the surface of their homeworld. Those men are dead,” Eddie said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You…! How many men have you cost us, Commander Edward? Your incompetence…” the King shook. His lips curled and he snarled. “How many lives will be lost because of you?”
Eddie remained silent, neglecting to mention the order he received. “I apologize, Your Grace. I will rectify this. I swear.”
The King said nothing for a moment. “No. Let them come.” Again the King looked away. “We can use their assault on Novas. Weaken them and some of our vassal colonies. Then reestablish our rule over the west and conquer Earth afterwards.”
“As your command, Your Grace.” Eddie saluted and turned to leave.
“Commander Edward,” the King’s voice called, “do not fail me.”
| 2017-03-06T01:17:34 | 2017-03-05T22:41:12 | 161 | 60 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | The station was near empty this time of night. The cold grey fog had swept into the corridors turning the lights into hazy yellow clouds. It was perfect, after weeks of scouting the stations on the J line I had found a time when the trains still ran, but had minimal people. As I come up to the end of the platform I glance down. The distance to the rail seemed much higher than I had remembered. Not that it would matter soon. I check the sign. 10 minutes.
The wait is agony. I pace back and forth scuffing my shoes against the yellow raised dots marking the drop into the train rails. The recessed dark metal and stone that would likely be very close, very soon. Maybe if I were blind I could have just pretended I didn't notice these and-
Tak. Tak.
Someones here? I turn. A pale woman with pitch black hair and heels walks emerges from the fog. Her chiffon mermaid dress bounces as each stiletto marches closer towards me. The scarlet of her lips stand out against her lovely skin. The look on her face, all-knowing and poised. I've never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.
We stand face to face, and I can't help but stare into her eyes. She's not saying anything, nothing at all, but it's as if we had been speaking the entire time. The feeling of familiarity and safety draws me closer and closer. I stare and stare, my eyes drawn to every portion of her frame. She stares back with confusion at first, then understanding. After what felt like an eternity she brings her hand to her face, and coyly drags a finger against those scarlet lips. I swallow.
A low rumble starts in the distance followed by a whistle. Its the train. I came all this way, all this time but I just couldn't turn away.
"You're... Beautiful."
The woman smiles, and walks towards me, crowding the space around me. My heart races, and I make no move to stop her, close enough that I can feel the cold off of her skin. She makes a spinning motion with her hands. Must mean...
Icy hands brush up my back. The feeling of her fingers and palms tracing up my back makes me shudder. The train approaches swiftly, growing larger and closer by the second. For a moment I think she's holding onto me. Clinging onto my torso.
"I have never met someone who looked at me the way you do. You've made an old woman very happy." She whispers into my ear.
"Who are you?" I ask placing a hand on her wrist.
"The one you've been waiting for."
Before I can respond she withdraws her embrace and suddenly her hands are against my back. With a gentle nudge, I'm pushed off the edge.
_____
Welp looks like I missed the first part of the prompt. And here I thought I was already fudging it.
Edit: wording and grammar | It’s always funny when we tell the story of how we first met. Sure our marriage isn’t a conventional one by any means, but hey, love is love.
I know what you’re thinking, marrying literal death seems like an ill-advised idea. I assure you though, the truth is it’s the opposite. I think this might be the best god damn idea I’ve ever had.
First of all the sex is AMAZING. Seriously, the sex is so good I could die. I can change her to be whoever I’m feeling for. I want to fuck Jennifer Lawrence? Just got to think of her as the literal embodiment of our short, horrifying and often abrupt end to our existence on this world and BAM—I’m fucking her. The best part is the chick is just as kinky as I want her to be. Let’s just say death is into some pretty experimental shit.
Now of course dating the grim reaper has its perks other than the sex. If someone at my workplace annoys me, BAM, heart attack the next day. It’s perfect for dealing with racist, sexist, homophobic, and whatever other flavor of asshole that I could possibly encounter. Of course, this sort of power trip has messed me up in the head a little, and that’s saying something considering the previous paragraph had me bragging about fucking death.
Unfortunately though it’s not all sunshine and shiny scythes in relationships, especially this one. I fear for my life constantly when I get into an argument with the dumb broad. I swear, considering she’s supposed to be an immortal being thats hunted mortal souls since before any of my grand-grand-grand-whatever parents were even born, she’s super fucking needy. “Why don’t you pay attention to me” “does this black robe make my butt look big” “stop looking at those human women” yadayadayada, she’s so annoying. Well, perhaps I’m being too harsh. I still love my snookums after all.
Of course that was many many years ago. She’s been a little evasive with the subject of my mortality. She thinks that killing me would be super romantic. I mean, I can see where she’s coming from I guess. I just hope she doesn’t do that Sopranos shit and cut--
| 2016-10-01T22:35:53 | 2016-10-01T22:31:15 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone has a counter above their head. On it is the number of times they have lied to you. One day you meet a complete stranger. His counter is higher than anyone you've ever seen. | Eggs Benedict. Again. I can never order anything else. I live in crippling fear of regretting my choices. My anxiety presents itself in many forms, and it's only gotten worse in the new world, where everyone quite literally wears their feelings. I, mistakenly, downloaded the add on to my Visers that allows me to see how many times a person has ever lied to me. It had only a thousand or so downloads and the reviews all advised not to try it because it will ruin your life, but, of course, I gave it a try.
Now, I find that I have it activated at all times, constantly wondering who is going to lie to me next. My constant paranoia, waiting to be betrayed, consistently being betrayed for no apparent reasons, and by those that I love... well... I can only stand to be around complete strangers now. I am calmed by the bright, reassuring "0" that hovers above their strange, unfamiliar heads.
"Everything come out alright, sir? More coffee?"
The server had a kind face. Her eyes were earnest. Pretty.
"Great, yes, thank you."
My cup was refilled with the steaming black liquid. It churned enticingly.
I looked up from my table to watch the people on the street. More strangers, better friends to me than anyone I knew. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I felt the coffee turn sour in my stomach. My reflection stared back at me. Painfully uncomfortable in his own skin, eyes squinting harshly against the light, or perhaps, against the truth. 8 figures hovered above my own head. They glowed with a sickly yellow color. I averted my stare and returned my eyes to the swirling, inviting, black depths of my coffee and thought about my servers kind eyes, and hoped to god that she didn't have the add on on her Visers. It seemed like she still liked me. Only strangers ever like me.
(Edit: formatting. On mobile. Sry.) | Eight million, two hundred and twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and thirty-nine lies. This character was off the fibbing-charts. Standing face-to-face in the back alley of McEnroe's bar off 5th blvd., I look at the scruffy figure once more. Dark tan hessian boots covered in a sticky-looking brown paste, ripped black chinos, dirtied white shirt and black tie, bowler hat -- six foot four, lean, fisherman beard. Our gazes meet as my eyes finish scanning his mannequin and I stare in to him, attempting to garner any sort of recognition from either of us. "Who the hell are you, buddy?" I say, breaking the impasse. He, the fabulist before me, broke into a grin. "Well, Mr. Yak, it is a surprise you do not recognize me, but perhaps you can be forgiven on account of my vagrant appearance. Samuel, the truth is I am your father." Eight million, two hundred and twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and forty lies. "Sir, with all due respect you have a fucking counter above your head, I know you aren't my father. Tell me straight and tell me now, who are you and why have you lied to me so many times?" I reply. The man shifts in his scabby breeches and screws his face into a contrite glare. | 2016-12-17T09:11:28 | 2016-12-17T08:07:22 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] The reason vampires don't have a reflection is because mirrors were originally made with silver which cannot hold an image of an evil creature. When a vampire wakes up for the first time in 1000 years they find a modern day mirror without silver and are surprised by what they see. | Within the deep depths of the ocean, a fisher boat hauled up a coffin, gleaming black in the sunlight. It was in fairly good shape considering it should’ve been in the sea for at least a few centuries.
The fishermen brought it all the way out from the open sea to their hometown, but being unable to pry it open, they sold it to an antique collector in the big city. The collector didn’t care that it didn’t open, as long as he could brag about the priceless object in his warehouse.
Gwenore opened her heavy eyes with a gasp, welcoming the sweet taste of air filling her lungs. It was pitch black, but her hearing was as sharp as ever. Sounds of whirring and blaring flooded her sensitive ears and she abruptly moved to cover them. What in the devil are those noises!
Pushing the coffin lid off, she sat up to a dim light. “Where am I...?”
A thick accent flowed in her voice, speaking a language most likely dead today. Her hair flowed down her back in raven locks, and despite her ragged clothes, she had a beautiful countenance and pale skin. The only strange thing was the colour of her eyes, and, of course, her fangs.
Gwenore was confused, seeing a miniature sun illuminating the room she was in. Could it even be called a room? It was so gargantuan and filled to the brim with wooden boxes of all sizes and shapes.
Perhaps it’s because she’s been asleep all these years, she didn’t recognize anything.
A sort of sadness washed over her, as did a strong sense of hunger. Even while masked by the many new and strange smells of modern day life, Gwenore could smell a human a hundred miles away. And there were a lot, all gathered up outside this gargantuan room, ripe for the picking.
She stood from the black coffin, stepping out elegantly and walking towards what she assumed to be the exit. Gwenore hadn’t eaten in centuries, and she felt like she could eat anything. There was only one thing on her mind as she moved closer to that delicious smell. Blood.
Chatter was in the distance as she made her way over, silent steps like a hunter who stalks his prey. Two men, wearing strange, sleek black clothes came by. Gwenore hid in the shadows; she was good at that, as was every other vampire. When one of them came too close, she reached out with her claws and bit down on him.
The other screamed and ran, but he was much too slow. He fell to the ground with a snapped neck, and Gwenore fed. She fed until she was full, gaining a please smile on her face.
Now that she no longer felt hunger, she decided to explore this new world of hers, starting with the many boxes lying around. There were many things, instruments that sounded quite pleasing to the ear, large clocks that rang every so often, and fancily carved tables only the rich could have back in her day. Gwenore was fascinated, and looked all around the room.
It was only when she noticed a figure move did she stop in her tracks. That was strange. She could smell no one else within this place.
Gwenore took small, cautious steps towards where she’d spotted the silhouette, only to come face to face with a large glass mirror.
It was shocking, to say the least, finding a pair of crimson eyes staring back at her. Her pale skin was splattered with red, glaring to the eye.
Gwenore held up her hand to reach the one in the mirror, smearing blood onto it’s smooth surface.
Why? Why did she look like this?
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
No. The blood on her hands, the blood in her mouth, why does it all feel so disgusting now that she can see it?
Why does she look so much like a...
like a- monster?
That’s right. Gwenore was the monster. She was no longer the scared little girl, bitten and victimized by the figure hiding in the shadows. Now, she’s become the figure in the shadows. The monster, terrorizing the people.
She hated it. Gwenore hated everything about it, and herself. She shook as her hand dropped back to her side.
Gwenore didn’t want to be the monster, not anymore. Not with blood staining her lips and hands and that ever so present hunger and guilt. So she lumbered to her coffin and went back to her eternal sleep, closing the lid above her.
Maybe this way, she could keep that tiniest bit of humanity left within herself. | What is time? Hat-Hor was over 1000 years old when the Pyramids were built. While several times he had taken credit for their construction hundreds years after they were built, in truth he left 600 years before then. Does he even remember that? Or are you misremembering?
You and Hat-Hor constantly tell stories where you believe he's telling the truth, but that's not where and when you remember it. You've told stories and Hat-Hor has afterwards told you his version and while the spirit is the same, the details greatly differ. You don't even agree where you met.
You remember a man walking into your village in the dead of night and staying with your family. He would eventually turn you after raiders killed your village. He remembers defending your village from raiders as he arrived to your village and you were the only one he could save, he did by turning you.
5000 plus years takes a lot from you. You seen all your loved ones die. The blood lines of most people you knew have died. Nations have died. Immortals have died. Finally Hat-Hor had enough. He said that you both needed a rest. You had rested a year, a decade. Hat-Hor rested 100 years, you did 20 before you grew restless. But this one was big, 1000 years.
What did you gain? Well first what had you lost? You felt the passing of days slowly as they happened, but now that it's over it was but a blink. You hadn't forgotten Hat-Hor as you wait for him to awake. But your memory doesn't seem clearer. But feeling and moving around you feel all there.
Hat-Hor awakens from his stone coffin. My child he greets and embraces you. The nights have been kind to you. The Sun has set and the two of you set off into the world.
It is bright. Every dwelling is lit with candles and torches of different colors. They move, they depict images. The ways of magic have advanced beyond your comprehension. This will take time. You walk the streets and see more people out then you ever encountered during the days when you were alive. The smells, the foods people are eating out on the streets have spices you encountered on your many years of travels. The smells bring a rush of blurry memories, different places and times. But you are experiencing it all in one place.
Same as the people. Wherever you are has more different peoples than any port city you can recall. More than the slavers pulling from all over the Mediterranean. The shorter people are your height, to a half head taller than you or Hat-Hor. With taller people being over a head and half taller than you.
It's a lot to take in. You and Hat-Hor look at each other. Hat-Hor sits down. You follow suit. You see two people across the sea of people walking up and down the street sitting across from you. You wave, and one waves back. Hat-Hor gets up, and the one opposite him stands as well. You cross the brightly lit street. And you notice that the one looks exactly like Hat-Hor but you can't place the other one. Hat-Hor is looking at them and at you.
It's you. Memories long forgotten come rushing back. Of family. Of childhood. In your eyes you see your father, and your sister. In your nose your mother and grandfather. Your brother's smile comes your face. Their long lost names. Memories of a you that no longer exists and yet still does. And memories of how you met Hat-Hor. You were sick, Hat-Hor turned you to save you. People came to your village to kill the monster. But how could your people give up a man who made a sick child well. He fought with your village, you fought with your village, but when you were wounded he saved you again and the village was overrun. Looks like you were both wrong. | 2020-08-15T23:26:32 | 2020-08-15T21:51:30 | 62 | 45 |
[WP] It's another murder case, plain and simple. With Watson out of commission, Holmes heads to the nearby police precinct in search of a temporary partner for the case. Instead, the precinct gives him Detective Jake Peralta | Holmes felt alien in this city, more so than usual. It wasn't the brashness or the smell - London carried those in volumes - but a feeling that perhaps he may be up against something bigger than is customary in his day-to-day, an American.
Lestrade had recommended one Captain Holt if the need arose whilst in New York, a serious man, principled; Holmes thought he would do just fine as a stand in for Watson. It was often difficult for him to find decent help, but a man who knew the city and its minutia would be invaluable. He was happy to exist outside of the rules, knowing Mycroft would keep him out of any serious trouble, but wise enough to know not to get on the wrong side of cop in another country... a tour guide would do just fine.
As Holmes entered the 99th Precinct, he felt the familiar wave of hypersensitivity wash over him. It was functional, well run, carrying the same dreariness of any station back home though this feeling quickly faded as he entered the bullpen. A man entered his frame of vision with the swagger of a cocky teenager, trawling a pair of nunchucks behind him, clearly waiting for the right moment to bring up his show and tell.
"Hey Amy, check this out!"
The man proceeded to flail his arms wildly, barely containing the chaos for a few seconds.
"Got these from a bust in Chinatown, super real and super dangerous," he panted through labouring breaths.
"Stop Jake you're going to hurt someone with those things," replied Amy, clearly worried, yet Holmes sensed another emotion, arousal?
Almost as if by clockwork, the man lost control of his weapon, careening into a tub of yoghurt, half eaten, on top of a very large man's desk - a sergeant by the look of his badge.
The man erupted, "Come on Jake, you know Terry loves his yoghurt! Now I have to use my emergency supply."
Terry turned towards a door at the back of the room, opening it carefully as if to hide his destination from the view of the group. All seemed calm for a moment, and then, "HITCHCOCK!"
He burst through the door, "man you don't even like yoghurt, aren't you lactose intolerant?"
A slovenly man at the edge of the room seemed unphased, yoghurt pooling at the edge of his lip, "Sorry Sarge, but I'm trying to build up my immunity so that I can eat the blue cheese dressing at Wing Sluts, that's a mistress I can't keep away from."
Holmes took this as a good time to leave, and scanned the room until he saw Captain Holt's office.
Knock, knock, knock.
A voice rose on the other side of the door, "Three knocks, what are you, European?"
"I need your help Captain Holt," Holmes replied as he entered the room.
"Ah, British. What is it you think I can help you with?"
"I'm here to investigate the murder of a former colleague, Dr Maxwell. I consult for Scotland Yard, and need someone to escort me around the city so that I can solve her untimely demise."
"Holmes, is it? I have heard of you, but I think you will find that our officers are some of the best in the city. You are superfluous in this case I'm afraid."
Holmes was about to retort when the two men heard a minor explosion from the bullpen. As they arrived to the scene, a putrid smell filled their nostrils.
"Alligator? No. Lizard? No," Holmes whispered to himself, trying to figure out the origin of such a stench.
"SNAKE? Really Boyle?" Jake screamed incredulously, trying to cover his nose.
"Ah sorry guys, I've been trying to prepare more exotic foods to remind Nikolaj of home." Boyle replied unashamedly.
"There aren't snakes in Eastern Europe, clean up this mess it's disgusting," said a gruff looking female detective who Holmes hadn't seen yet.
"Well actually, there are multiple species of ratsnake and blotch snake, Diaz, but I agree the workplace microwave is no place for such an experiment," replied Holt sardonically.
"This aside from the fact that the snake you brought in is a copperhead, native to North East America," said Holmes in solidarity with his partner to be.
"Aw geez, now there's two of you guys?" laughed Jake.
Holt turned towards Holmes as if to reconsider his initial position.
"You can accompany Peralta to the scene Mr. Holmes, I think you will find he can assist you with anything you need."
He fully sized up Jake with a stare, confident, unkempt, childish, reckless and... competent? His last reading caught him off guard as he held out a hand to meet the man, perhaps Watson wouldn't be as big a loss as he originally thought. | As Holmes entered the 99th precinct he was greeted by a bald African-American man shorter than the avarage whos first impression was obviously giving a firm handshake and maintaining excellent eye contact through the dialogue they had.
"Welcome Mr.Holmes to the 99th precinct. Im Captain Reymond Holt, we were expecting you to be a bit *earlier*."
Holmes looked at him and thoughts started to race through his mind. He became too pre-occupied for the upcoming 4 seconds to notice that the Captain had slightly changed his voice tone when he said *earlier*. Another officer passed by them in the meanwhile while chanting about shampoos and romance.
"I would have bought an apology gift but you dont look the type, on the contrary your dislike of gifts led to that officer's distress which is why its taking so long for who i can only assume my companion today is to come here since he is too busy trying to comfort her."
"Oh i-
"Well now he is coming dont worry and please look out that she doesnt smoke a fag after we go out."
The detective that have finally arrived put on his coat as he introduced himself.
"Hi, Detective Holmes or should i say *Sherlock*. Im Jake Peralta."
Holmes ignored his excessive use of facial gestures and shook his hand.
The female officer Peralta had tried to comfort a moment ago stepped outside to the balcony as Holt watched silently.
"How did you-
"I think we should head out now, thank you captain holt for lending a detective.
Peralta and Holmes entered the elevator and Peralta started to speak with an excited voice.
"Now i dont want to sound creepy but i might have read all of Mr. Watsons blog and potentially become obsessed with your adventures."
Peralta had said the last sentence a lot faster.
"She smokes while under stress doesnt she? Well dont worry i think your captain is going to help with that today, after all she seems to value his advice a lot."
"You did your thing! Are you going to explain like in the blogs too? ^please do^.
Peralta's little and almost girly scream had drawn the attention of the people around as they got out of the elevator and proceeded towards exit.
"She taped a cigarette box under her desk which she had trouble finding which is unusual considering how obsessed she is with keeping things under control. Her desk was extremely tidy with a schedule that consisted your captains handwriting which i have seen before from his signature. They are both type A people but differ at a point which also helps you differ them easier in your head as a father role and partner."
Holmes stopped a taxi which for a split second confused him as he was used to the british way of traffic.
They entered the car and Holmes told the taxi their destination. Peralta spoke immediately after Holmes did.
"ok... im in an area between feeling amazed and intruded but im leaning on the first one. How did you know about my relationship with them though? OH NO wait wait wait you saw her filing out one of those relationship thingies right?"
"Not quite. You both have rings and were a lot more intimate than anyone in the precinct. And you said that you two would solve her family problem together tonight."
"How do you know that its a family problem?"
"That was the easiest. She had put her coat on the hanger which smelled heavily of cuban cigar and fresh ink. Considering that she would give her coat to be immediately cleaned but didnt which shows when she spoke to the person who smoked it their conversation effected her so much that her obsession was pushed back."
"But doesnt that still leave the possibility of someone else smoking the cigar rather than her family?"
Peralta was focused and Holmes enjoyed that he gave all of his attention to the matter.
"Balance of probabilities. Cuban cigars are banned here and she doesnt look the type to hang out with smugglers but enough of that. We are almost at our destination and have a case to solve."
"Aaaand where are we exactly?"
The taxi stopped infront of a bar. A bar which Peralta thought that only evil masterminds looking for recruits for their plans of world domination would enter.
Holmes turn his head and looked at Peralta who was sitting in the back seat with an expression that was a bit uneasier than the usual.
"Are you ready?"
Peralta put on an almost cliche voice and expression.
"Oh the he game is ON." | 2020-01-20T06:32:51 | 2020-01-20T06:21:47 | 360 | 43 |
[WP] You're a side character in a story. By chance you become aware of this fact and you try everything to be more relevant to the story, even going as far as to intefere in the protagonist's life. | When you take a DNA test, you expect to learn about your ancestry, maybe that you got some crappy genes and could get Alzheimer's or glaucoma. You don't expect to learn you're a work of fiction. But that's what happened to me.
There it was, after the line that said Fact or Fiction: Fiction. That was bad enough. The next line was even worse, where it said my fiction type was side character. I mean, being the protagonist or the main love interest, that's not so bad. You're central to the story. But side character? You could get edited out at any time. Going about your day and then boom, you're gone. Happened to a friend in college named Frank. Nice guy, good to get beers with, but always did seem a little two dimensional. One day he was just gone, backspaced right off the face of the earth between a second and a third draft. Me and the guys talked with his family about holding a funeral for him, but everyone agreed that'd be awkward, so we decided to not mention him anymore.
And then I found out I was just another damn Frank.
Question was, whose life was I a side character in? Maybe it was my ego, but I couldn't see myself as some bit part, someone who the main character interacts with briefly in one scene, who doesn't even get a name, and then is never heard from again. No. I couldn't be that insignificant; I had more personality than that.
After spending half of my damn week thinking about it, I realized the protagonist had to be my old high school buddy, Joe. I was a groomsman at his wedding to Sarah, but not the best man, who would be a more central character. I always popped in and out of his life after something big happened to him, and seemed to be just comic relief, like the time he lost his job and I met him and his wife out at an Italian restaurant. When I got up to go to the bathroom I tripped, accidentally pulled on the tablecloth as I fell, and had a plate of spaghetti land right in my face. If it had been a sitcom, the laugh track would've kicked in right then.
I couldn't stay a side character, not with knowing what happened to Frank. But what to do? Last time I'd seen Joe and Sarah, Sarah had made eyes at me like maybe she was getting bored in their marriage and wanted to try out someone new. I could start an affair with her. If that didn't work, well, fire could solve a lot of problems. I could burn down their house. That'd make for one hell of a big plot point.
I wasn't the protagonist. I couldn't be the love interest. But I could become the villain. | Catherine and I had won the science fair yesterday, and earlier today she
told me that NASA had contacted her, asking her to join the team designing
the Mars base. Now it’s not like she’s not nice, but it was our shared project,
so I couldn’t help to ask: “Why not me?” and the only real answer I could
come up with was that I was more of a side character in her story, a speck of
dust in her larger master piece. This could not be true, it was unacceptable to
me, so I did the only reasonable thing, and started taking the spotlight from
her.
&#x200B;
When we won the year later, I made sure MY name was on top, that my
contributions were larger!
&#x200B;
When we went to university, I made sure MY hand ins were always better.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for love, I made sure I got the best guy first.
&#x200B;
When we send in our Ph.D.’s, I made sure MINE would be rated the best.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for jobs, I made sure I got the best one.
&#x200B;
When we started looking for families, I made sure MINE was nicer!
&#x200B;
When she crashed, i made sure I was there for HER in the hospital.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
When she felt sad, that NASA had suddenly retracted HER invitation I cried
with her.
&#x200B;
When she discovered she could carry no child, I gave her all the support I could.
&#x200B;
When she needed a kidney, who’s could she get but mine?
&#x200B;
When we were up for a promotion, what could I do but recommend that her
genius got the position? | 2019-01-06T09:23:29 | 2019-01-06T08:39:52 | 2,020 | 67 |
[WP] You're a Goth and somebody knocks on the door: "Hello is this the house of the witch?" You sigh because this has been the 100th time this month and say: "No he's over there." And points them across the street, to the dazzly pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat, who's waiving excitedly to them.
Saw this and knew you lot might like it too: [https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor](https://imgur.com/gallery/h9yheor) | I left out a long sigh and waved back, half sarcastic, half convulsion.
"Oh wow the ad wasn't kidding he really is a white witch." let out the patron with excitement.
"White bitch is more like it," I half muttered as I search my pockets for my cloves.
"Whats that?" asked the patron with a slight tilt of the head that reminded me of a dog. Liberating the clove from its box and quickly into my mouth, I savoured the flavour a moment; I promptly ignited; the spicy flavour filled my lungs, I breathed out.
"WHITE BITCH is more like it."
"Oh," the patron stumbled a moment before leaning in closer, "how do you mean?" our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds.
"She'll be over in a moment Charlie!" I loudly and gleefully cheered over the patron's head, watching as the colour and dazzle drained from his beautiful face.
I slowed turned my attention back to the patron. Her eyes glistened with the burning desire reserved for only the most greedy of gossip hounds. After all, that's why she's here. To see the famous West Hollywood White Witch, plastered on every billboard, a guest on every talk show and spiritual advisor to all those autotuned pop princesses! Of course, she's here for the gossip, and after four years of living across the street, I'm ready to talk. I extend my hand and muster a cold smile.
"I'm Benji."
"Sherri." she said as she shook my hand.
"Nice to meet you." I said as I studied her for a moment.
"You don't mind if I record this do you." she blankly stared at me.
"I figured you for press." come on in. | I watched through the window as the witch helped his customer, probably some curse needed breaking or love spell or something of that sort. He always seemed so jovial and though his constant attention got on my nerves, I couldn’t help but smile at his helpful attitude. We never really spoke much, though sometimes packages got mixed up. Once, I received a bright purple cloak with yellow stars and made eye contact as he held up a pitch black laced corset. We smirked and exchanged the clothing, aware of how very different our styles were. The rest of the evening was restful. I drank tea and read Pride and Prejudice and worked on some taxidermy for town. The next day, like clockwork, a knock on the door. “Is this the witch?” A confused looking man asked. I sighed, ready to answer my typical no and to have my neighbor, waving to confirm he as the witch, but something felt different. “Why yes. Yes I am”, I replied. After all, this witch thing couldn’t be too hard, right? | 2021-03-22T22:58:07 | 2021-03-22T22:08:05 | 22 | 14 |
[WP]Everyone gets some sort of ability when they hit puberty. What was the one you got? HUD. | I was always a late bloomer. It sucks having to watch your friends develop powers while you just sit there and cheer for them. When Robbie was 8 she developed immense strength and stamina. Jack got the ability to fly when he was 10, and by the time he was 12 he could carry several people with him. Johnny discovered he was invincible at 11 when Jack accidentally dropped him. Margot gained laser eyes at 12, though she did not use her powers much. Everyone waited for me to develop powers, though by the time I turned 14 they started to doubt I would ever get them.
I first noticed it in gym class. Robbie was chasing me, and I ran as fast as I could to get her away from my teammates. I suddenly noticed two bars at the top of my vision, a full red one and a blue one that was almost empty. When the blue bar ran out, I collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. I turned over and looked at Robbie, a big grin on her face. When I focused on her, another bar appeared on the bottom of my vision, a full red bar. I shouted in joy, and noticed my blue bar had a tiny bit left in it. I focused on her again, and noticed that I could see a readout of her powers.
Robbie seemed shocked by how happy I was, then realization swept across her face. She picked me up by my shoulders.
"Did you get your power?"
"YES! OH MY GOD! I CAN SEE YOUR STATS!" I shouted in joy, causing her to drop me. My friends abandoned the game and came over to celebrate with me.
My power developed more over the next few months. I started to be able to see how much money I had in my account. Then a button with a crude man on it appeared in the corner, and when I mentally pushed it a screen popped up with me on it. About a week later I went back into that screen, and saw a "Change outfit" button. I could now change into any outfit I owned without having to go home. After that an inventory button appeared, and anything I owned I could summon to my hand.
Then a shop button appeared, though it took a few days for a search button to show up in there. I started wasting hours scrolling through there, looking at everything I could buy. I didn't have enough to buy anything I actually wanted, but I enjoyed looking at ancient artifacts that I could theoretically buy. But what really threw me for a loop was when a button with a gear on it appeared.
At first, the only thing in the settings menu was brightness. No more need for sunglasses I guess. Then a POV slider, though it gave me a headache when I changed it from the default. Several other options appeared gradually, then something appeared that changed my world.
An option appeared in the settings menu to activate dev mode.
I toggled that instantly, then backed out to the real world. A new button appeared, saying Debug Menu on it. I opened it up, and first thing I saw was that there was a toggle for gravity. I was in the lunchroom at the time, and I decided to go for it. I felt myself rise off the seat, and I looked around to see everyone else starting to float too. I instantly turned it back on, and we all slammed into the ground. The only other option was to turn damage off, so I toggled that, then asked Robbie to punch me. She did, without hesitation, and I didn't feel a thing. I stood up on the table, and reached towards the light bulb. Someone shouted at me to get down, so I grabbed the bulb and sat down. Even though I could feel the heat, I didn't feel any pain from it.
I kept damage toggled off, and started religiously checking that menu. It took a few days, but the ultimate option appeared in there.
Power selector. | Puberty: a terrifying period in any person's life, filled with change and uncertainty, which majorly influences every aspect of life going forward and who we are to become. A time where relationships are forged or broken due to the fact that each individual is affected differently and how those around us react to that change. The popular kids are blessed by this biological process, while the unpopular kids are cursed; in rare instances, one can be elevated or smacked down because of it. Puberty: the time when all kids develop their Ability!
I was a late bloomer. They say puberty happens roughly around 12 to 17 years of age, with some minor variance. Every kid in my year had developed their Ability by 14. I began to panic on my 16th birthday when mine still hadn't manifested. Doctors said sometimes an Ability could manifest later in puberty, or that in rare cases an Ability may not even display despite having manifested. I could see in their eyes that their words were empty, merely to console me. Thus, I was elated when, 2 months later, I awoke to discover my Ability had finally made itself known!
**HUD: an extra-visual display that overlays reality, displaying vital information to the Host, without impeding vision. Can be expanded or minimised at will.**
Welp, that sucks... My Ability is something that is already covered with a simple add-on for the AR tech in any glasses, sunglasses, or cybernetic eyes. Silver lining, that shit is expensive, so... yay for money saved?
I tried to keep it lowkey, only telling my close friends about my Ability. They were glad for me that it finally manifested, and I no longer had to deal with the stress or worry of being the first Abilityless in several generations - in short, a freak. It soon got out, though, and it wasn't long before the mocking began.
My HUD was derided as being a useless Ability that was little more than a glorified alarm clock, to being a sign of just how poor my family must be if even Fate is taking pity on me to save a few thousand Credits on AR tech.
None of that was enough, however, to detract from the sheer relief I felt that I wasn't a freak. And so, I used my HUD as much as possible. I took the "glorified alarm clock" comments and made them a reality; I used it to record notes; I used it to plan journeys; I used it to track my mental and physical condition. The more I used it, the more I noticed that what it could do greatly outmatched the most advanced AR tech available.
Fully customiseable, capable of copying and intergrating any AR tech it scanned, upgradeable, always connected (to what, I didn't know). It was, in every way, superior, and it just kept improving the more I tinkered and upgraded it.
The tech intergration? That was now able to intergrate Abilities. That's right; I could literally copy other Abilities, store them within my HUD, and use them freely! And so, I started scanning every Ability I could.
And soon, I'll show all those who mocked me that they messed with the wrong guy! | 2022-12-14T17:57:32 | 2022-12-14T14:59:49 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] You rule the land with a wand whose power overwhelms all others. Some call it the barrage of fire, others the metallic whirlwind. Some simply refer to it as death itself. But only you know the wand’s true name, inscribed in the handle: AK-47. | The wand of death spat fireballs on the poor knights. Their horses went mad, their chainmail was pierced, and all they could do was stare. Not one of them could come near me.
"Stop your damned sorcery, you good-for-nothing bastard," the King yelled.
He was behind the knights, sheathed by bodies of brave men, a coward of the worst kind.
"Stop it? Why? So that you can carry my dead body over this battlefield? No sir, I'm in no mood to die today."
"You're not the first evil wizard we have seen and you sure as hell won't be the last. Give up before my men trample you down and make you one with the land."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You're one deluded coward."
The wand crackled again and fireballs rained down on the fleet covering him.
"Don't feel so brave now, do you, King?"
He grunted and took hold of a spear and launched it towards me. The bastard was old. The spear landed about a foot in front of me. I laughed.
"No chance. No chance in hell, King. Bow down, while you're still alive."
The King said something to his troops, I was too far away to hear, all I saw was a man gesticulating wildly, and the soldiers rushing.
My wand prepared itself again and more casualties followed. *Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!* *Clack! Clack!*
The wand wasn't shooting anymore and the army was approaching fast. Large soldiers dressed in leather armour, running with longswords and shields.
No worries. I reached out under the wand and replaced the magazine. Oh hell, I forgot I had some grenades and a shotgun in there too. No need for an AK in close combat then. High impact explosions would suit me just fine. But till the army was reasonably far away, the wand was my best option.
*Bam! Bam! Bam!*
It was magic, you know. | The so called heros lie dead or injured in front of me. They were like the others, claiming that they will be the ones to end my tyranny and how I was evil, the same as all the others who went to fight me. Honestly this group was pathetic, not even a healer among them. Not that a healer would do much against my AK.
I was just a peasant before I found this. Barley making ends meet by working on a farm. It was another normal night for me, on a walk. However, I found a body on the walk. They were wearing a strange uniform, but they were wielding what I would soon learn to be an AK. They had a few extra containers of whatever this AK fires, and I soon learned the power it holds. Very quickly I had decided why not try to take over with this thing, what did I have to lose? It started with a small village, then a larger one, then a city. Over time building an army, and those who refused would meet the end of the AK. Within two years, the kingdom was mine.
But now I’m bored with my life here. I have no challenge, no conflict. Those who dare cause conflict are quickly killed, either by my hand or my army. For now, I wait for a challenge truly worthy to use my AK once again. | 2021-01-07T10:10:24 | 2021-01-07T10:06:26 | 86 | 62 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "I understand why you fear for my safety," Euphemia spoke gently as she approached the knight. "And why you fear for my kingdom," pressing her hands to her chest in mild gesture, her wide eyes emphasized her understanding. "But I cannot allow you to kill Rosa."
Slakter stared dumbly at the long forgotten princess, the seventh daughter of the seventh son, and sputtered a confused reply that was met with a slow, patient smile. "I do not understand, Your Highness. A dragon is a monster, a scourge on the land, and this one has guarded your palace for over forty-thousand years."
Euphemia nodded sagely, pacing quietly in her long, silk skirts. "I believed the same as you some time ago," she said clearly, and her voice was as the mistrals described. Clearer than water. Gentler than spring. "I feared dragons as I was taught to, raised to slaughter and destroy, but...my grandfather, Grandfather Abelard," she chuckled, "I'm sure you've heard of him...thought differently."
"Abelard?" He raised his head, "Abelard to Wise...patron of artists...master of peace...lover to..."
"Yes, Heloise the Divine," she answered. "She bestowed him a gift before she entered the convent, a dragon egg, and he kept that dragon egg. Oh, its beauty was glorious," she sighed, returning to that lovely memory the day she was introduced to the egg that had not hatched in over two-hundred years. "It's outer shell was made of rose quartz, so beautiful, so pink," she smiled. "And when she hatched? My parents were furious! They wanted it dead! But I couldn't...I wouldn't...and luckily for us, Grandfather Bernard felt the same."
The knight shook his head. Confusion draped over his pale features, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "No, no, no, we are taught in school Abelard loathed dragons," he recited. "He hated them and was responsible for their extinction?"
"Was he?" Her long skirts whirled and faced him, "Was Abelard as cruel as history taught you? Perhaps, perhaps not, Grandfather had many faults, but I will correct you on this, dragons are not extinct, dear knight."
"But he -," he stammered. "He killed the Dragon Mage!"
"Or maybe the Dragon Mage died of old age," she replied, flatly. "It was over 1.5 million years old, rumored to be older."
"And what of the others?"
"Relocated," she shrugged. "But with a thin enough tether to connect our worlds."
No. No. He shook his head, shock after shock destroying his world. None of this makes sense.
"But why," he rasped. "Why would he do such a thing?"
She started to walk away, and her thick, heavy skirts swirled with her, when her dark features faced him. "Do you want to know, dear knight," she asked, tentatively. This was a privilege, he realized. A privilege she was willing to revoke at any moment.
He swallowed, "I do."
"Well," her chin tilted. "How old are you?"
"What?"
"Answer the question."
"I saw my seventh hundred year this August, Your Highness."
"And how old am I?"
"Um...I..."
Something harsh and cruel deepened her features. Her dark eyes and skin glistened under the pale moonlight's glow, and she approached him until only a two inch distance was shared between them.
"I celebrated my 47,650 birthday this past December," she said. "Our neighbors life expectancy is 200."
He stood there, stunned.
"Now, I shall leave you with this," she pointed to the air. "Why is that so?"
No. His jaw flexed tightly. *No.* He kept his mouth shut, glaring denial into her back's center. She paused at the dungeon's entrance, soft smile playing on her lips. The door closed quietly, and above a dragon's roar thundered throughout the skies, shattering rose tinted flames into its clouds. | Wood splintered as the wooden door was destroyed. The sound bounced off of all four walls, echoing up the tower, and back down. Aurora set down her fork and looked up from her lunch, hoping it was a freak accident from her soldiers training nearby.
Her eyes moved from her table to the breezy doorway and spotted a tall knight in green-gray armor, holding a sword straight out.
“I have come to best the dragon. I wish to save the princess, and marry her into my kingdom” he said in a gravelly voice.
Aurora thought that he may have sounded attractive and strong- had he not just announced he came to kill her best friend and force her into marriage. It wasn’t how any of it worked, and she was very worried for all the women that raised the heathens continuing to destroy her home.
“The dragon is in another castle, sorry,” Aurora said. She glanced at him for a moment longer before turning back to the table. She had only gotten a single bite into her pot-pie when the big strong knight had burst through her front door. She rolled her eyes now that he couldn’t see her. She was very tired of the whole thing.
“Excuse me? Are you the princess?” he asked.
Her irritation growing, Aurora turned back towards him. Her eyelids lowered and the corners of her mouth pulled downward. She saw that subtlety simply wasn’t going to work. Perhaps it would be cathartic to go straight through subtle, bypass polite, and go straight to abusive yelling. Surely horrid men didn’t have a monopoly on emotional rudeness.
She stood up and walked towards him, a beat in-between each footstep, for effect of course.
“I am the princess. This is my castle, and that was my door that you just destroyed. The *Dragon* is mine, and if you so much as touch a single scale on her perfect body,” Aurora reached the doorway where he stood, still. She was in spitting distance of him and began to poke at his plated chest as she spoke.
“I. Will. Hunt. *You.* down.” With the last word, she let her arm drop down to her side and took a step back. “Do we understand? Are we good? I’m kind of hungry and would like to finish my lunch.” She hoped he would hear her words and she could go eat. Her hunger was peaking and it wasn’t helping her anger any at today's intrusion.
The knight stood in her doorway. Although she couldn’t see his face through the helmet, she felt like she could still imagine the blank look upon it. He was thinking, and she thought she would start to smell smoke soon. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get married if it meant being stuck with one of these types.
Another moment passed and he hadn’t moved or spoke. Aurora shrugged her shoulders and turned around. Walking over to her table she figured maybe she could get a few bites in before he tried again. She sat down and picked up her fork and heard a low murmur. He seemed to be getting closer to a decision, she thought. No worries.
At least these first few bites were still warm. She would enjoy it while she could, and if he persisted…Well, Perhaps the Sapphire was hungry as well.
***
/r/beezus_writes
9/100 for 2019
| 2019-01-09T08:16:32 | 2019-01-09T06:34:18 | 172 | 59 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | The old man sat chasing his own thoughts. His memory wasn't what it once was and he kept losing his train of thought. He'd try to remember something, reason through it and just before he could latch on to it it would be gone like it was never there.
Zargrarf approached smiling, "My old nemesis, it pains me to see you in such a state! You humans live such short fleeting lives but I had to see you again. You were one of my greatest adversaries but now you are just a pale shadow of your former self."
The old man stirred, "Eh....Is that you Zargrarf?"
"Yes it is, you remember me?"
The old man motioned for Zargrarf to come closer. Zargrarf approached and leaned in to better hear him. "Yes?"
The old man smiled and bit down hard on a false tooth to release a neurotoxin specifically designed to kill only one being, Zargrarf. The old man blew in Zargrarf's direction and exlaimed "I've been saving that for 80 years you son of a bitch! I finally got you! Haha!"
The old man couldn't even remember his own name anymore, but he held onto something unique only to humans in all the galaxy, he held on to a grudge. | We would try and kill them. We've run scenarios on how to kill them. We've seen them kill each other. But to try eliminate them all. It borders complete impossibility.
They're just way too good at sex. It's not even that their really skilled at it. That title belongs to the Zendians. They just have copious amounts of sex. Their reproduction rate is about 10 times faster than even the most horniest. It's rumored that even their sperm count is in the millions.
While jealous some of us may be, there's nothing we can really do about it. All we can do is continue our studies. | 2014-07-16T12:28:18 | 2014-07-16T12:20:35 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | The pestilence has failed. On all the countless worlds before it has stuck down our foes. These, humans, are unlike anything we have seen. To foolish to do more than look up at the stars. Unable to unify and spread their species. They know the dangers of failing to leave; overpopulation, cosmic disaster, worlds ravaged by plague, and yet they still squabble over fractions of a rock.
Perhaps this is their strength. In their squabble to control the rock they have become masters of it's intricacies. 'Containment', 'quarantine', 'medicine'; strange new concepts for us. Our bodies are strong and we let our weak worlds die to be retaken by the stonger. These things are refined tools of the humans who only have this one home.
Our mere presence was once enough. The pestilence would spread and make ready each world for our coming. It is our way. Our way has failed us.
We are but a colony ship sent on the long sleep many cycles ago. The power of our empire is faster, but time and space can only be bent so much. Our arrival has galvanized them. I fear they may take to the stars before they can be stopped.
Our only hope may be their foolish delay. May another rock strike theirs and smite them from the stars.
_____
Edit: Slight re-write of the second paragraph to eliminate a nasty run on sentence. Much more readable now. Also a re-write of the last sentence.
Edit2: It seems the humans fear us more than we thought, perhaps they think our fleet is near. They have offered valuable minerals in return for peace. They shall have it.
For now. | Dr. S.F. Mercola
Peking University, Department of Neurobiology
2259, March, 15
Human greed and shortsightedness—an intergalactic evolutionary trait?
Those in the scientific community have lamented the inability of humans to deal with basic market externalities and tragedy of the commons in the recent century. However, the problem is old as woman itself. Locke made the concept most famous nearly half a century past. Many millennia old religious texts too quarrel with the hedonistic manners of man. In combatting planetary issues, particularly the rampant effects of 20th and 21st century pollution, these pitfalls are evident. For true species survival and extraplanatary proliferation however these traits seem necessary. We provide evidence, based on data from the Great Invasion and newly acquired galactic species data obtained from the Intergalactic Alliance for Growth, that this shortsightedness is a necessary trait for intergalactic survival. We propose a theory to describe the phenomena and have dubbed it the Wells Effect. | 2014-10-17T10:00:06 | 2014-10-17T08:36:32 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] Since you were young you had the ability to pause time. However as a teenager you use the ability to procrastinate. At first it was little stuff: an extra hour for homework or a nap in the morning, a break in between classes, etc. Well it built up and now you're pushing thirty in your 3rd year. | The ability to pause and resume time at will was extremely useful for lazy guys like me. I could play video games until 7:59:59 am and arrive at school at 8, perfectly functional. I never arrived late, went past a deadline, or had insufficient sleep.
But consequences exist, and I only realized them about 2 years ago. In universal time, that is. To me, more than 10 years have passed in 2 years of universal time.
You see, I am free to move while time is paused, of course. But that also means my body continues to metabolize while everyone else's metabolism is halted. So I age while nobody else does, and the more I pause time, the more significantly different I look when time resumes.
So, here I am. Senior year, and *officially* I am 17, but every cell of mine knows that I'm almost 30 already. White hairs are easily found on my head, and my hands are rougher than everyone else in my class.
I look at the bathroom mirror, and I don't notice much difference between myself and Nick the school janitor, mopping the floor behind me.
"What the heck have you been going through, kid? You age faster than I do."
I turn to look at Nick.
"I don't know, man. How long have you been working here again?" I try to change the subject.
"Seven years, Nathan. *Seven years*, and I've never seen a student who looks as old as you."
I don't know how to respond. 17 year old me would've thought of something to say instead of looking at the fellow for an awkward 10 seconds.
I force a grin and turn to the door. "Yeah. See you around, Nick."
Myself and my parents aside, nobody knows why I age so quickly. They all think it's because I have a rare genetic disorder of sorts, and never really asked.
Mom and Dad have always told me not to abuse this ability since I informed them about it. Well, I have abused it, and I can't reverse the effects. I regret it every time I wake up from a nap with time paused, knowing that I've wasted another 3 hours or so. It's freaking depressing to think that I'll die about 20 years sooner than most of my friends, and maybe even earlier if I continue using this ability.
It's very convenient, but it's a curse. You never want to resume time until you realize how much you've wasted doing absolutely nothing.
I walk to my classroom for chemistry class. I have a crush on the chem teacher - 25 year old Miss Johnson. She probably knows, because I flirt with her every time I have a chance to. I mean, I could tell her my secret, but I doubt she'd believe it.
As I make a turn in the hallway, I see Miss Johnson at the other end, walking towards the classroom that is right between us. As we approach the door at the same pace, I gesture to her.
"Morning, miss. Ladies first," I say with a smirk slowly creeping out.
"How nice of you, Nathan."
I notice that she's blushing and chuckling while walking through the doorway.
*Man*, that is cute.
I temporarily forget my depressing thoughts, and go into the classroom after my teacher.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is my first ever post on WP! What do you guys think? | She said that I looked like an old man. I appreciated her frank candor most of the time, but that particular comment hit me hard. Not that Stacy meant it in a mean way, but I have a... different relationship with time than most people.
When I was in grade school, I discovered that if I could focus in the right way, I could pause time. I know it sounds nuts, but it's true. It started small; the first incident brought on by a fast foul ball making a beeline for my nose. I noticed it at the last second, and as I scrunched my face and prepared for the pain, I realized that the world had gone quiet around me. Opening my eyes, the baseball hung ominously in the air before me. Children were staring, mouths hung open, some already wincing as they saw what was about to happen. The shock as the situation began to set in must have shaken my concentration, because in another instant the world came back to life and the baseball found my cheekbone, sending me sprawling backwards.
In time, I gained control over the ability and began to use it to my advantage when I could. I finished homework on time, snuck looks at the teacher's copy of tests, and never found myself wishing for another few minutes of sleep. It was the best superpower a student could ask for.
But now, at university, Stacy's comment had confirmed my suspicion. There was a price to pay after all. Even though I could stop the world, time still took it's toll on me. Perhaps I had been using it too much lately, trying to be a good student and a great boyfriend. I had noticed myself beginning to show signs of aging beyond my apparent years, but didn't want to face facts. She was right though, I'd probably accumulated years of frozen time by now.
So I guess the question becomes do I continue on and lose about 25% of my expected lifespan while trying to be the best person I can be, or do I give it up and face every minute like a normal person again? Can I even live like that again, after years of being used to having effectively no deadlines? I could go the other direction and begin to live like a superhero, using my powers to save lives. Or, I could fulfill every greedy desire and use my power to become a thief or assassin.
Either way, I need to decide without delay, as my hopes for a normal life slip further with every frozen second.
Stacy's frozen expression shows gentle concern, begging for an explanation without being too forceful. She was smart enough to know that some of the things I did for her were too perfectly coincidental. She suspected something, I knew that, but how would she react to the truth? I guess there's only one way to know. | 2016-09-13T07:22:40 | 2016-09-13T06:39:04 | 21 | 12 |
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