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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | "Hey, are you even listening to me?" Kevin asked, poking me in my side. "What do you keep looking at?"
"Ah sorry," I said, nervously shifting in my seat. "There's just this really weird girl in a purple dress that keeps staring at me."
Kevin glanced over at the back of the train and then gave me a confused look. "What girl?"
I gave him a bewildered look. "What do you mean what girl? The girl in the fancy purple dress that looks like she walked out of the Victorian period. How do you not see her?" I whispered in disbelief.
"Man, I'm telling you I don't see anyone like that."
I turned my head back toward the back of the train and froze. The girl had moved several seats closer to us and was still staring at me with that creepy expression on my face. What was even weirder was that I had never heard her get up and move.
"How the hell are you not seeing her?" I said, trying to keep my voice low as I turned back to Kevin. "There's literally only one girl staring at me. She's sitting right under the picture of the subway map."
Kevin gave me a weird look. "Are you trying to mess with me or something?"
"What?"
"There's no one sitting there. Hell, I don't even see anybody wearing purple in this train car."
I stared at him for a moment. What the actual fuck was going on? I turned around and let out a small yelp of fright. "Holy fuck!" The girl was now sitting less than ten seats away from me.
"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Everyone's looking at us now."
I stood up from my seat and grabbed onto the subway pole as I pointed directly at the girl. "Are you really telling me that you don't see her?!"
"Michael, what in the actual fuck?! Are you fucking high or something? There's no one there!"
I stared at him, then at the girl, then at the confused and scared passengers that were staring at me like I was the crazy person in this scenario. "Can none of you fucking see her?!"
"Michael, who the fuck are you talking about?!"
I turned around and shrieked in shock as I saw the girl standing right behind me, holding tightly onto to my right sleeve. She had a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry for passing this curse on to you," she whispered as she began rapidly fading into thin air. Then, without warning, everything turned black.
I screamed in terror as I found myself suddenly hurling through the darkness. Then, the breath got knocked out of me as I crash landed onto the floor. Slowly, I got up and stared in disbelief at my new surroundings. Everybody else in the train car had vanished. But, what was even stranger was that the train itself seemed to have aged. The metal was rusting, the ads were peeling off and I could even see tree branches poking through several broken windows. I walked over to the window closest to me and felt my stomach turn queasy. It had been noon when me and Kevin had gotten on the train, but now, it was almost night. Even in the twilight though, I could see the vast ruins of destroyed buildings in the distance. "Where the hell am I?" I whispered to myself. | The train stopped. Few people went down, while some changed seats. I sat beside the window as always to feel the night breeze. It was really cool tonight and felt homely.
The train began to move, I settled properly and dug out a novel by a favourite author: Dean Koontz, a woman probably in her mid forties, sat close next to me. I nodded a little as a sign of greeting and returned my gaze to the book.
After ten minutes of trying to get connected to the storyline, I got tired, closed the novel and looked up, immediately my eyes locked with an ocean dews eyes which seemed to tell a lot of stories.
I gazed at the face, it was beauty, a calm, blissful girly face with nice savoury lips.
How come I didn't notice or any of the football guys making catcalls down the subway didn't notice?
She was stunning!
She kept on staring at me, not blinking and I tried not to back off the staring competition because it felt like one.
I observed she was wearing an Elizabethan gown with little touches of red, she also wore thick socks and had this shoulder holster. Now, this is ridiculous I thought, who wore these kinds of outfits these days?
She totally look like those Eastern ladies of the 1800's, I laughed a little, still staring.
I was getting tired.She wasn't blinking, wasn't saying anything, just staring and giving me a cold vibe
Who was she and where did she come from?
The worst part, which I noticed now, was no one seemed to notice her especially her outfit, for that alone could have made people curious like a cat.
I moved my gaze towards the bus conductor trying to get his attention for I was getting uncomfortable but it seems he was more interested with his burger than me. So I gave up and returned my gaze to her and trust me she was still staring.
I wonder what she wanted from me? Could she be Dad's extended relative? the royalty's cult witch supreme? She could be latter I finally concluded for she reminded me of Witch Mari but the cult witch supremes were all locked away in a dungeon. Did she escape? I thought again.
I must get down at next stop; I spoke loudly. The woman next to me, smiled and asked if the novel was getting interesting in my head?
I replied with a smile. I guess she was wondering why a teenage boy was behaving weird after reading a novel.
The train finally stopped and I rushed out immediately, running not stopping for once to catch my breath. I didn't look back until I got to the estate and there she was, staring like a statue, like she was built there forever.
Okay, this is really weird, how did she get here? I asked myself in a fearful voice.
The right thing to do is to confront her; a voice whispered in my head. No, you don't know who she is; another voice whispered loudly.
I smacked my head, summoned all the courage I had in me and walked towards her. She was stunning but that outfit and shoulder holster, something was definitely wrong.
So what do you want? I asked in a shaky but clear voice.
I want You; she spoke from lips that didn't move.
How did she do that? Was I hearing her in my head? This was crazy.
You....want me? I asked still unsure of what she said.
Yes, I want you. You are the final piece to the puzzle.
What puzzle? I asked gaining my courage a little.
Come with me. With that, she took my hands, they were cold as ice and we disappeared into oblivion.
The last thing I remember was her hands holding me tightly and me screaming so loud.
I am still in the oblivion but they call it "the place of the people without iron"
I don't know what they want but I know I am just the key to their final puzzle. | 2022-04-07T09:28:49 | 2022-04-07T08:43:11 | 70 | 13 |
[WP] Your magic is the most powerful anyone has ever seen, but where some take minutes to recharge mana, you take days | Mana was the lifeblood of magic. It was the oil that burned the lamps, the food that fuelled our bodies. And where people might get hungry after expending their food, I stayed satiated for days. My stomach for magic was large, it would seem.
Of course, that meant if I truly ran empty, it was a cavernous hunger to fill. In exchange, I cast spells that others could only dream off. The world around me changed and shaped itself to my whims. Where others dreamt of casting fireballs, I started off doing just that—and moved on to controlling even the flow of magma in volcanoes.
But I had to keep it a secret. Of course I had to. What would happen if people discovered that the world’s strongest mage was useless for days at a time? They would come to kill me.
I realized it was because I would do the same. But the magic world was cutthroat. Only one was the grand master.
I looked outside the window at the rising sun. Today, I was at the apex of my powers. But when the king, or some dignitary called upon me, I might not be. And thus, this was the time to protect myself.
There was a clear schedule ahead. I was free for about a week or so. I could expend a large spell, and still have time to recharge.
The words came easily to my lips. It was a spell that I’ve called upon tens of times. It was a simple spell in theory, but impossible due to the vast amount of resources it required.
Well, impossible, except for a person like me.
There was the need for a vast mana pool from a single source. It was non-negotiable. Power from multiple people inevitably tainted the end product.
35 liters of water.
20 kilograms of carbon.
4 litres of ammonia.
The ingredients were gathered in front of me into a circle.
I chanted, hidden by the Silence aura and Vision wards I’ve placed around my room.
It didn’t take too long. It took every drop of mana I had.
A person stood in front of me, an exact carbon copy of me. My natural talents were replicated near perfectly, including my mana pool.
If I died, he wouldn’t be the one to take over. There were plenty more in line.
If I was near death, I could siphon from them.
It was a foolproof plan. I sent him down to the dungeon, making sure they had sufficient food.
But right now, I was still grand master. I was still king.
And for now, I would rest.
---
r/dexdrafts | Time is the inbred child of a flat circle and a personal fidelity to the moment. First time I realized was when I cast my first spell. When that was is whenever. Details like that aren’t important, not anymore. I learned right from the get go that age old problem that confronts spellbound teenagers that learn after accidentally torching a neighborhood trash can. “It’s not ritual, it’s desire.” If you do things mostly right, you get the results you imagine. I thought thyme was an old timely way of spelling time, I thought time was a funny thing to be in a “beer on the wall” style nursery rhyme. I thought it was funny for that rhyme to be on a stone tablet. Things change, and they don’t, but that’s always been the case.
I don’t care about how you hold your breath, whether you’re using boar tusk or dragon scale for your effigies, if you wear brown, mocha, or cafe-colored pants. What matters, and I think I’m owed a bit of authority on this, is that you should only cast a spell that’s written by that terribly strict Aethrean code.
Now I know, I know, that sounds like some preliminary mana guru bullshit. Now I’ve thrown the pitch, I’ll kick it up to the first pseudo-solution : five drops of scarab shell extract, three Delnor dragonfly eyes, and peppermint oil to taste, Yada yada, terra cotta soul-stills and spirit bells. I know you use magic for every facet of your life, right? Heat up your coffee, clean your room, start your car, entertain the kids; hell, if your good enough, you can rewind and get another ten minutes in before your alarm goes off and you’re forced to put your clothes on by hand, like a convict, because you’ve robbed yourself of your mana for the next half hour. But couldn’t you just, not?
Jk, but I’m serious, though. I’m the only 17 year old that’s made the world spin backwards for ten seconds, was capable of fixing all that up (sorry btw), cured an entire nation’s crop plague in a day, and I single handedly prevented Ska, thrice! Oh, what’s Ska you ask? Exactly.
I’ve achieved all this through my birthright. I’ve done nothing to earn this.
I saved Eurasia once from a intercontinental earthquake. I ride the subway so I don’t throw the earth out of orbit should I choose the levitate one day. I eat microwave meals, because I’m lazy and I don’t have enough room for a summoned banquet that could feed a family for a fortnight. I wake up and go to bed 11 times per day, I get jet lag halfway through the months because I’m living more lives at once then you have digits. I’m spread thin across multiple sunsets by the same energy you use to brown your toast. So, next time you’re half awake and you want time to just stop so you can get some shuteye, just hit the snooze. K? | 2022-05-02T06:19:12 | 2022-05-02T04:52:58 | 159 | 21 |
[WP] A meteor strikes the Earth, and everyone seems to get superpowers… everyone except you. You’ll do anything to figure out what yours are, but the world has changed and your options are desperate. | What is justice?
With the advent of superpowers, this question quickly shot to the forefront of everyone's mind. To some, it was maintaining order in society. To others, it was people getting what they deserved.
To me...
Well, I still don't know.
Civilization as a whole plunged into chaos the first week after the meteorite struck. Plenty of people saw it as an opportunity to move up in the world. Yes, this included villainy, but it wasn't limited to it. Many also rose to the occasion and stopped these abuses of power. They were called heroes.
Soon enough, keeping metahumans in check became a profession of its own. Comic books had already provided a mold for us to follow and the populace quickly embraced it. These people became celebrities over night. Their stories, often coming from humble origins and using their powers for the benefit of others, were very easy to admire.
This wasn't the only side effect, though. With all the excitement of superheroes finally existing, it was easy to ignore all the other areas of society that suffered a massive overhaul. Mine, for instance, was medicine.
I'd wanted to be a doctor ever since I was little. The thought of healing other people through the use of reason and technique was something short of magical. In many ways, it was like being a superhero. Long hours, deaths that were out of your control, and a huge weight of responsibility that loomed over your head twenty-four seven. Despite how hard it was, I always found it easy manage since I knew I was doing good.
Then came the meteorite, and with it, came laypeople with the ability to magically heal others.
Terminal diseases suddenly became curable. Injuries that would take months to recover could be undone with a simple touch.
All of a sudden, doctors weren't as needed anymore. This isn't to say we were completely useless. There weren't enough people with healing abilities to fix *everyone*, so we still had a role to fill.
Their superior efficiency, however, couldn't be denied. For every patient I treated, a meta-doctor could cure twenty. Most emergency rooms only needed *one* of these people, as opposed to the teams we used to have. More than that, many people simply didn't want to be treated by a mundane doctor. Not when a magical fix was readily available.
A lot of my peers quit the field of medicine.
We had to take massive pay cuts, since we just weren't as valuable, and many decided it wasn't worth it anymore. Those of us who stayed were treated like glorified nurses, which some just couldn't handle, since very few things were bigger than the ego of a skilled doctor. Furthermore, despite having a lower salary, our six-figure student loans had stayed the same and the banks certainly didn't care.
We went from earning a good living to barely surviving every month.
And yet... I couldn't quit.
Maybe it was another manifestation of my doctor's ego. Maybe I just didn't know what else to do. Or maybe, just maybe, I was hoping that my powers would soon manifest.
That never happened, though. For a few years, I wondered why I ever bothered trying. The media paraded around the heroes and claimed that justice had finally arrived to the world. A new class of people had emerged, and they weren't afraid to show they were superior. People like me, who never got powers, were in a minority. Was this really fair to us? Why should I contribute to a society claiming that my misfortune was a benefit to the whole?
I didn't let my resentment consume me, though. The undeniable truth was that the field of medicine had progressed far beyond what we used to have. All it took was looking in the eyes of a freshly healed cancer patient to understand this. I really couldn't resent meta-doctors. They were saving more people in a month than I could in my entire life.
One day, however, a supervillain entered our hospital and held us hostage. We all knew his identity. Voltage, a key member of the supervillain group 'Retribution'. He electrified a few security guards in the ER and shouted:
"Who's the meta-doctor here?!?"
Everyone stayed quiet.
"I swear..." Voltage started crackling with energy. "If a meta-doctor doesn't leave with me, I'll start frying everyone in this building!"
A few people started crying. Others cowered behind whatever furniture they could find. Most important of all, Pierce, the meta-doctor on shift, made himself as small as possible.
I quickly scanned the room for him, hoping to urge him with my eyes.
He simply avoided eye-contact with me.
Some of my peers, mundane doctors like me, had a growing anger in their faces. They were outraged at Pierce's cowardice. In a few seconds, they were going to sell him out.
"It's me!" I shouted.
Everyone widened their eyes.
"What are you doing?" whispered a peer of mine. "Just offer Pierce up!"
"No," I replied, lowering my voice. "If he's gone, many people who could otherwise live will die. If *I'm* gone-"
"Fuck that!" said my friend, struggling to keep whispering. "They'll kill you!"
I didn't respond as I walked away. The ugly truth was that I'd felt so useless that I would leap at the chance to feel valuable again. I really didn't care if I died.
Doctor Pierce gaped his mouth. He had the chance to speak up and take my place, but didn't have the courage to do so.
Voltage didn't question my credentials. He knocked me out with a shock to the head and, once I woke up, I was in Retribution's lair.
----------
>*continued below* | **Mo' Powers Mo' Problems**
The *Ironeor*. I know you won’t believe me, but I actually came up with the name, and I never lie. Not ever. Not before, at least. My names usually ain’t too creative, but this one, man, this one spread like blood from a headshot. It got everywhere, absolutely everywhere, kind of like that time I—
Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. So Ironeor. The -eor part was easy, it was a freakin meteor, duh. The iron- part, no it ain’t had nothin’ to do with metal.
My bro, my mostly-bones, twiggy lil’ bro, getting car-lifting, steel-bending, honest to goodness super strength. Or Rufus, Mr. I-once-tried-to-walk-a-hot-dog Rufus, who’s now able to melt things with his mind.
They all got powers, all of ’em. Powers exactly the opposite of the shmuck’s natural abilities. You know what that is? That's ironic. So there ya go: the ironeor. You know what else that is? Unfair. Friggin unfair! Cuz everyone got these cool powers, everyone ‘cept me.
Overnight, I went from the biggest baddy on the block to a friggin powerless nobody. Peckin orders with a powerless head honcho rooster’s aint gonna last long with brain-blasting subordinates, not even if those brainblasters are Rufus-level morons. Oh man, Rufus that dumb mother—
Sorry, sorry.
Out of the ironeor’s chaos, new power structures were gonna emerge. I needed to come out back on top. I needed powers. I needed ‘em fast.
So I started asking around, but I had to be all sly-like. Near total isolation. Couldn’t let everyone know I didn’t have no powers, that wouldn’t a been good, not for a guy with a reputation like mine. You see, that’s what I ruled with – my reputation. And the bedrock of my reputation was that I never, ever lied. If I said you better pay or I’d get your family, and then you didn’t pay? Oh boy, from your grandma to your grandson’s dog, you ain’t gonna have no family no more. I dunno why I’m that way, just the way I was raised. Good morals, ya know? But in this crazy new world, when those grandmas might have diamond skin or laser eyes, how was I supposed to keep my promises?
Anyway, I get some leads. Apparently there’s a guy called The Grabber who can “grab thoughts out of your mind,” and he’s helped a few suckers figure out how to use their powers. I imagined he’d gotten these grabbin’ powers since, um, he didn’t have any hands. There were a few problems with goin’ to him though. First, he ain’t never helped someone with no powers, he helped people power up ones they already had. Two, he was, uh, let’s just say someone I’d made a promise to before. As in, I’d told him I’d chop off his hands if he didn’t give us a hand with something. I’m still proud of that one.
Despite these challenges, I had to try. Some woman called Fempower, with invincibility, and super strength, and friggin flight, I mean add insult to injury over here, had formed a clan that was takin over the city, slaughtering thousands of innocent people. Just terrible, right? That was supposed to be me!
Soon enough, I’m knockin on The Grabber’s door. Hiding behind a disguise seemed pointless against a mind reader, so I didn’t bother. Plus, that really wasn’t my style. I hid behind a shotgun instead and had Rufus standing around the corner as backup.
I swear I told him not to make a move, not to use his powers, not to do anything or I’d blow his brains out. He recognized me, I seen it in his eyes, he knew exactly who I was. And yet… he rushed at me, even shouted “no you won’t!” and I felt him try to use his friggin powers! No I won’t? What gives? I was almost so insulted I didn’t pull the trigger. Boom. Splatter. Screams. Rufus runs around the corner and asked what happened. Despite seeing the man with a head clearly blown off from a shotgun, and me clearly holding a shotgun, he still somehow couldn’t put it together. That dumb mother— sorry, sorry. I told him wuddu think happened, I told him I shot him.
Rufus looked back, confused, and asked what really happened. Now, since this was Rufus, I almost believed he really couldn’t get it. But this was way past even Rufus-level stupidity.
Then it dawned on me, and from there it was almost too easy.
I went around the whole city and told everyone the simple truth, like I always did: that I didn’t have any powers. That I was as weak and useless as before the Ironeor. And most of all, that we definitely shouldn’t call it the Ironeor, because that was a horrible name.
And just like that, no one believed me. No matter what I said, no matter how true it was, nobody believed me. Even Fempower thought I was lying. I was, once again, feared. What could my power actually be?
It's a strange sort of power for a straight-talker like me. I’ve got to be crafty with my words and I can never really say what I mean. If I’m being honest with ya, I don’t really even like it. But there is one nice thing about it. I can tell shmucks like you all my secrets. I know you’ll never believe me.
\_\_\_
Had to have a go at this one myself this lovely morning. If you enjoyed this, come on over to my newly created r/carlstories, where you'll soon find stories I don't publish anywhere else and sequels to my greatest hits. Speaking of which, want to know what happens to this unnamed narrator next? | 2022-07-15T10:31:24 | 2022-07-15T07:44:39 | 617 | 195 |
[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart. | “Favorite food?” I asked.
“Pancakes,” both Twilas said in unison.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite band?”
“You already asked that dumbass,” they said in the same annoyed tone Twila always had.
I asked probably 100 questions already, but I still can’t tell them apart. “I give up. It’s hopeless. You’re perfect doubles,” I cried.
“You always give up so easily."
“Then, why don’t you find someone else to help you?”
“Cause you’re my-” they paused and looked at each other. “Cause you’re *our* best friend!”
I knew they’d say that. I knew what Twila would say to anything I said. I have to think of a way to differentiate them without asking anything, but how?
“I got it!” They looked excited. “We put you both in front of a mirror, and whoever doesn’t have a reflection is the clone!” They looked less excited.
“That’s vampires.”
“Oh," I said disappointed. "Well let’s just try. Okay?”
They both rolled their eyes, but in different directions. That’s it! “Ha!” My dumbassery paid off for once!
“What?” They looked confused in the same way Twila always would.
“The *real* Twila always rolls her eyes from right to left!” I pointed to the double. “But since you’re a mirror copy you rolled from left to right!” Case closed.
The fake started to sweat. “So...” Her eyes started to water. “I’m a…fake?” Tears fell from her mirror eyes.
We forgot the clone didn’t know she was a clone. I also realized we never bothered to figure out what we were going to do with the clone once we knew which it was. “What do we do now?” The ‘real’ Twila asked. I have to think long and hard about my next words.
“How about some pancakes?” | "Oh, I've got it!" Clyde announced triumphantly, alternating his gaze between the two Heathers before him. "I'll ask a question only the *real* Heather would know!"
Left Heather brought her palm quickly into her forehead, leaving a small pink imprint. Right Heather sighed loudly and rolled her eyes at Clyde's ignorance.
"We have the same memories." Right Heather spoke plainly. "There's nothing you could ask."
At this, silence lapsed once again, Clyde wracking his brain. What were the options? Testing their memory? Looking for birthmarks or other physical signs? Clyde felt his mind run directly into a dead end; what else was there? What could Clyde check? How could he know?
They looked perfectly identical. He scrutinized them. The same set of long legs rose up into the same curved hips, the same inward curve of their belly, and the same outward curve of their breasts.
He wondered for a brief instant if he could initiate a threesome before pushing the thought aside, feeling slightly ashamed.
Clyde was still fingering the idea of the threesome, wondering how he may try to initiate it while simultaneously feeling repulsed by himself, trying to take advantage of his friend's plight.
He could think of no way to casually bring the matter up and began thinking again of how to discern the two women. Abruptly, Right Heather's head snapped up from the spot on the ground she had been intently staring at.
She had grasped the reality just a moment before Left Heather, and that made all the difference.
There could only be one Heather.
Right Heather grasped a pair of kitchen scissors from the coffee table and injected the blade into Left Heather in one rapid movement. Left Heather's eyes widened in shock, her hands flying upwards far too slowly. With the same rapidity, the scissors were retracted and emphatically replaced into her neck, perhaps ten more times.
Clyde had already fled before Right Heather sat back, chest heaving, red and glistening with blood.
"It is me," Heather mumbled to herself, praying she was correct. "I'm me."
Heather suddenly regarded the thing leaking blood onto her floor with the greatest disgust. This monster tried to usurp her, to steal her entire life.
She kicked the monster's head as hard as she could muster, letting out a strangled cry as the skull crunched into her boot. | 2022-11-14T19:04:17 | 2022-11-14T13:52:07 | 133 | 56 |
[WP] You we’re born with the ability to control fire, but instead of becoming a superhero, you set your sights on a much more attainable goal: You became the worlds greatest firefighter. | It had been a rough few months since revealing her powers. There was a lot of friction at first, she got called irresponsible for not using her powers to become a hero. After the first few burning buildings extinguished in seconds just with a wave of her hand, however, the public has started to cry out against superheroes for not using their powers for more constructive things than just gloryseeking and showboating as comicbook heroes.
There's been more than a few sidekicks and PR representatives showing up to her apartment to threaten her for making the other heroes look bad, but in the end she gets up and goes to work anyway. To her, being a hero isn't about escapism or a power fantasy. It's about making the world a safer place. If her contribution is to walk up to houses and press down on some fire, and the worst she faces for it are some self righteous nerds in spandex, then that's just fine. She isn't in it for the marketing or the approval, knowing she's saving lives is its own reward.
Though... she'd be lying not to admit to letting loose a few "fireworks" for the local kids from time to time. Gotta have fun sometimes, right? | As a young boy, you always knew that you were different from your peers. While other kids your age struggled to light candles or matches, you could ignite a flame with just a thought. It wasn't long before you discovered that you had the ability to control fire, and you were determined to use your gift for good.
You spent years honing your skills, and when you turned 18, you decided to become a firefighter. Your superiors were skeptical at first, but they quickly realized that your abilities made you an invaluable asset to the team. You became known as the "Fire Ryder"....😎
You were always ready to face any challenge that came your way. But one night, while you were off duty and heavily intoxicated, you stumbled upon a burning building.
Despite your impaired state, you didn't hesitate to rush inside and search for any trapped residents. You managed to rescue several people from the flames, singing the lyrics to the "Paw Patrol" theme song to keep yourself focused and motivated.
"Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, we'll be there on the double! Whenever there's a problem, round up the pups and go! Ryder, Ryder, he's the leader of the pack! Whenever you're in trouble, just give a yip, yip, yap! Paw Patrol, Paw Patrol, when danger calls, we'll be there to save the day!"
As you were making your way back out, a beam fell and trapped you inside. Your team tried to rescue you, but it was too late. The fire consumed you, and you died a hero, having sacrificed your own life to save others.
Some say they can still hear a faint "yip, yip, yap" when walking past. | 2022-12-16T20:08:47 | 2022-12-16T20:04:18 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] A great Empire is about to fall. A single remaining bodyguard is left alone with the Emperor as the enemy approaches the throne room. | I had never studied his face before. Sure I had seen it hundreds of times during my years in the royal guard. But I had always looked down after a cursory glace, bowing my head in reverence. I feared that gazing at the Emperor’s eyes would be like staring at the sun—best not to look upon an entity so much greater than myself, for fear of divine consequence.
But in that last hour, as he sat lonely upon his throne, I studied his face. I saw a downturned mouth, wrinkles under his chin, and deep sadness in his eyes. I no longer saw an emperor, just a man with too much silk.
When the soldiers came, I placed my sword on the floor and stepped aside. No sense in dying for the doomed.
| Jaime went to the throne room. On the way, he came across Rossart, who was dressed as a common soldier and hurrying to a postern gate. Jaime attacked him, and while Rossart tried to defend himself, he stood no chance against the experienced knight, who gutted Rossart without mercy. Jaime then slipped into the throne room through the king's door, finding Aerys alone pacing through the room. When the King saw the blood on Jaime's sword, he demanded to know whether it was Lord Tywin's, renewing his command that Jaime should bring him his father's head, otherwise Jaime would burn with all the other traitors. He told Jaime that Rossart was on his way to give the enemies a warm welcome, asking again whose blood was on Jaime's sword. Jaime answered that it was Rossart's. The King became scared, his mouth dropping open in shock. Aerys lost control of his bowels, soiling himself. He turned and ran towards the Iron Throne. Jaime seized Aerys and hauled him bodily off the steps. The Mad King squealed like a pig as Jaime killed him with a single slash across the throat, thereby preventing him from giving the command to burn the city to some other pyromancer. | 2014-05-29T13:01:49 | 2014-05-29T12:54:24 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Whenever Alice dreams, she relives the entire day of a random person on earth, sometimes strangers and sometimes people she knows in real life. Tonight, as she falls asleep, she enters the day of the man she just married. | My eyes shot open and I sat up panicked and disoriented. Wait, this was not me, this was... oh yeah, this was someone else. I was still tired, still a little drowsy, wait not, THIS person was. I always forget even though it's been 13 years, I always forget what happens in my dream. I, no HE, looked over at the clock, it was 5 minutes before his alarm. He held his head in his hands, my hands, and looked over at the form sleeping next to him. Making little noise, he slid out of his bed and gave that form a peck on the cheek. It was familiar, but when you've been so many different people, everything is familiar.
He walked into the bathroom and started the normal routine. It doesn't matter who you are, every morning is the same. He went to his sink and washed his hands looking into the sink, then he looked at his face in the mirror. TOM! Oh my god, my husband! His eye twitched a little and he rubbed some of the sleep grime from it. I remember, he did feel a little off this day. I had wondered why, at least now I can find out. He held his head again and rubbed his temples. The alarm started to go off in the room. He rushed out and turned it off, then looked at... me. It was weird, but comfortable, I don't know. He looked for a moment and heard me say something, I couldn't quite catch it. "I know honey." he said.
He went about his morning, going to the pool on the first floor for a bit. Right as he entered the water I got a little anxious because I do not like to swim, in fact I am terrified of drowning. He rubbed his arms almost in reaction to my feelings, but it was a little chilly in the pool area. After swimming a few laps, he dried off and came upstairs back to our hotel room. I was awake now, and I remember now. Yeah, this part was always weird whenever I entered the life of someone in a relationship. We had sex, except I was having sex with, myself I don't know. i remember now though, he had acted funny during it, I had thought it was me but I felt wonderful. It was just strange dirty almost, I don't know, but it made me kind of sick how much I liked me.
The rest of the day went as I had remembered it, with Tom complaining of a headache and just generally not his same cheery self. All day I thought it was me, but he never once showed me any less compassion through his eyes. What was it then? He went into the bathroom. I was already dressed for bed, waiting for him to return, so I could try to make him feel better then he did this morning. He looks into the mirror, right into his own eyes and said "Alice, can you get out of my head now?" | Sleep, perchance to dream... But of course I would chance to dream about this man, tonight.
I had saved myself for this man. The man who had cold feet and left me at the alter crying twice with no one but our families to watch.
Now I stand here, just over his shoulder, like I had done every night since I was 14. It's never the same person, but it's always happened. This empathy link is no gift, it's a curse. How many relationships have I ended because I knew things I shouldn't know?
I've seen rape, murder, torture, and suffering so brutal I've become desensitized. There are secrets in my mind that could bring down nations or put me on a list I might never be free from.
But tonight all I see is him on his phone in this beautiful church. The pastor offered to do it for free since we had already paid him twice. Third shot's the charm right?
He's writing his vows 20 minutes before our marrige? He's always been a procrastinator, one of his idiosyncrasies that drives me crazy. I feel his fear, his apprehension, but I also feel his determination.
"Hey, man. You ready this time? Los Angeles is still open." His Best Man, Bobby, had returned from the chapel. "We can just go, now, Like we always talked about.
"Not today, Bobby. Not this time." The strapping Groom replied, confidently. "I have to do this."
"I know." Bobby nodded smiling and put his arm around him. "You need this."
"I'm sick of being a wild card. It's time I settled down." He said quietly. "You remember that night in Denver?"
"Yeah. Of course. Candy and Michelle." Bobby's face became sullen. "Are you wanting to run to Denver instead?"
"No. But that night I realized I love Alice." He said.
"Did you not know before?" Bobby said, they were practically whispering.
"I don't know. I did, but I didn't know whether or not I was ready to settle down." He said.
"Well, you missed out." Bobby said laughing.
"On what? Syphilis? I'm thinking that's not so bad to miss out on."
"Man, those girls were crazy. Syphilis goes away. Memories stay forever!" Bobby laughed and went for a High Five, which went unreturned.
"I'm not gonna High Five that, Bobby." He turned and began fitting his tie.
"What about that other night?" Bobby said coming closer.
The groom looked down and for a moment seemed sad. Why is he sad?
"You know, that happened once." The groom explained and he turned to face Bobby. "You're my best friend. We were drunk, I wasn't thinking straight."
"I know. Does she know?" Bobby asked.
"No. She doesn't." The groom said.
"Good. I don't want anything to ruin this for either of you." Bobby said smiling. "It's time."
They're leaving, and I'm forced to follow. However, there on the tiny counter sat his vows. He's so forgettful, another idiosyncrasy.
But he never returned for them. I didn't need to see more. I knew then and there I'd be with Nathan forever. Afterall, he didn't need to write his vows.
He already knew what he wanted to say.
| 2014-08-09T10:45:23 | 2014-08-09T10:40:32 | 96 | 32 |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | They didn't arrive in a spaceship. Just a strange ball of light. We found no trace of it after the dust settled. The eggheads on the homefront tell me it was technology beyond our wildest dreams, or that they're our evolutionary superiors in every way. But I got a different theory. I seen 'em up close.
I noticed something, during the first open battle. For all their space age bravado, they didn't fire on our soldiers. Not once. They cut a good number of them down, sure, but not with any weapon I saw. Naw, they just had these *claws*.
Even then, they're some *mean* sons of bitches. It was a close fight, and neither side ended up sticking around afterwards. (Hell, they even transported their dead away in those balls of light.) Wherever they came from, it's molded them into killing machines. The media hyped them up as imperial conquerors. That we were simply next on their list. But honestly, I knew all along that was bull.
Three weeks in, the war was over. Engaging them directly was a mistake; they were just too powerful. To win this fight, we had to play dirty. Snipers. Drone strikes. We were even cleared for experimental bio warfare. They didn't see any of it coming. This surprised most of the more..."imaginative" folks back home. How did we win so easy?
It all went back to that first battle. We didn't manage to capture any of them, but I saw how they fought. And then, I saw *why* they fought. They weren't trying to exterminate us for conquest. They were trying to exterminate us out of desperation. They couldn't have ruled their homeworld. They probably just managed to leave. Their transportation wasn't some great feat of technology. It was a crude natural system that happened to outclass our rocket ships. And those claws...they didn't make the aliens better. They were a consolation prize from Mother Nature.
They weren't prepared for our level of warfare. It's why they landed in the middle of Nowhere, Greenland instead of our capital cities. It's why they went down so easy when we upped our weapons game. That's what won us the day: they were completely thrown by our technology. They had no concept of it. And seeing them up-close, I knew why, from the very beginning.
They didn't count on us having thumbs. | "Hello, Vl'kash. Jane Lehrer, here for an interview? We spoke on the phone?"
"Oh, yes, the human on the phone. I remember you. What would you like to talk about?"
She pulled out her notepad and pen. "I figured we'd start with the... dammit, ow!"
"What is it?"
"Paper cut." She held up her hand to show the small, bleeding cut on the webbing between two fingers.
"Oh gods!"
"What? It's not like I'm bleeding to death, just hurts, is all."
"Even so, it's problematic. You'll need to visit the Chiurgeon at some point."
He looked at his clawed, green hand, contemplating. "Also, your skin is so much thinner than our carapace. To think that you could be injured even by a writing instrument... Life on Earth must be rather hazardous."
She stared incredulously. "It's a *paper cut.* Look, it's already stopped bleeding."
"Your wounds... close on their own?"
"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't call this a 'wound', but yeah. Small cuts will clot up pretty quickly, and this one was really small."
"Incredible! And all humans possess this ability?"
"Er... yes? It's been a while since I took Bio, but our blood makes a protein that basically clogs up the wound. I mean, it won't help if you've, like, lost an arm, but it'll work for small stuff."
"Even so, this is amazing! Reconstructing a damaged carapace is a rather difficult task, one that requires a skilled Chiurgeon. For most of our history, anything that broke the carapace was a potential death sentence."
"Really? I mean, I guess it's a lot harder to break through it, but you won't heal *anything* on your own?"
"Let me put it this way: Your species' ability is *literally* a superpower. There is a popular vidreel on my home planet called "The Restorer," about a Kesari warrior blessed with a regenerating body. A warrior with an indomitable will, confident against any number of foes. No matter how many wounds he takes in battle, the next day will see him whole and unbroken."
"Oh, kind of like Wolverine! Sorry, we have a superhero like that in one of our comic books. He's got these cool claws, and he can regenerate from anything in seconds. Like, even if his head is chopped off."
The Kesari laughed. "Such a thing would never fly on my planet. A superhero who could seal his carapace after the day's fighting was done? Incredible, but it's at least within the realm of imagination. But a superhero who can regenerate in *seconds*? Preposterous!" | 2014-11-09T08:34:11 | 2014-11-09T08:00:18 | 548 | 237 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Sergeant! Mark's been hit! He took a round to the gut!"
*Fuck*, this was not Tom's day. A simple two hour patrol, that's all this was supposed to be, and here he was down to his last magazine, trading rounds with people he couldn't even see. Releasing his hands from the now useless rifle, he scrambled from his firing position on the upper floor and down the stairs. Mark was there with the other wounded, clutching his stomach and gargling on his own blood. The Corpsman was trying to get him to apply pressure but he was too far gone, his hands kept falling limp at his side and it was all he could do to remain awake, "Corporal, go see to the others, I've got him"
Tom knew he couldn't save the kid. A gut shot is a slow, painful way to die. You bleed out slowly, even more so if you happen to be lying down, as the blood inside you pools, defied by gravity from leaking out. Grabbing Mark's head, Tom raises the injured Private so he was leaning against his chest, the movement seemed to stir the wounded man slightly, as he glances up, his eyes already losing the light in them.
"Hey Sergeant, am I gonna die?"
Here it was. They teach you about this moment when you become an NCO, they tell you how to answer. Most men don't have many lies left after ten years in the Marines, most don't have even one,"Nah son, you're not going to die, not on my watch". The Private seemed surprised for a second, after all, when almost no one can lie. Everything is the truth, right? Despite the blood coating his hands, Mark slowly moves to get something from the front pocket on his shirt. It's a letter. *Fuck*, they teach you about this too.
"Can you get this to my mom Sarge? Just in case?"
This should be the easy part, you tell the kid he can keep it, because he's going home.
"Sure son, I'll deliver it myself"
That was two. Not that it mattered, because Mark had already died, his final act having been to entrust a letter to his Sergeant. The firefight was slowing on one side, theirs.They didn't have the ammo to get out of this and that meant they needed CAS. The radio was still working, and Tom had to move across the room to hear his CO on the other end. The conversation was short, and afterwards the Corpsman approached him, "Help coming soon Sergeant? We have too many wounded to get out of here on foot"
Tom breathed deep. This wasn't in the training.
"Help's coming, Corporal, we're all going home" | "I do."
I felt a twinge in the back of my brain as my first lie slipped out of my mouth. No way was I going to keep this loser around "in sickness and in health." Melissa was a fine woman, nobody could deny that... but, you know, there are practical considerations to marriage that sometimes you just *can't* talk about. Such as what happens to a woman's body as it decays with age. Ugh.
Oh well; no matter. I had planned for this, and had hoarded my lies like rubies in the treasure chest of my brain. I still had two, which I planned to save for fifteen, twenty years down the road. I'd need to lie to the next one too... and probably the third.
At the reception, I got to talking to her father. It was all innocuous fun; I laughed at his jokes, he told me about his family history. Eventually, he grew serious. "I'm just so glad Melissa finally found somebody to love her for who she is. It's hard, coming from a family with money, to separate the legitimate lovers from the gold-diggers." He sipped his drink, and I sat silent. This was dangerous territory. Melissa herself was lovely, certainly... but how was I to get new conquests when I was fifty if I had no money?
Her father noticed something was off, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Son, I know you can't lie to me. If you'd been lying about anything in this relationship, you'd have used them all up a long time ago. So set my heart at ease and be frank: was money a consideration in your mind, when you proposed?"
He had underestimated my ability for half-truths, especially with the trusting Melissa... but I didn't want to waste one of my last two. I shook my head, smirking as if at a joke. He wasn't buying it. "Answer me plainly: yes or no?"
There was no way out. "No, of course not!" I felt the second lie burst from my lips. Damn it! Only one remained, glistening in the back of my skull, eternally precious––my one ticket to the life I wanted. Appeased, Melissa's father leaned back in his seat, and reached for his glass of champagne.
That night, I helped Melissa undo her corset. In the sickly yellow light of the motel lamps, her skin already seemed worn and papery. She turned to face me... but with two lies gone and my plans in jeopardy, all I could see in her body was the shadow of a future paunch, and the hint of crow's feet in the corners of her eyes.
She must have seen something in my face too, as she pressed herself against me with worry in her face. "Am I beautiful?" she asked softly. I embraced her silently, clamping down hard on my final lie––but she, knowing me as nobody else ever has, read my coldness correctly. The lie slipped away, out of my reach forever, as easily as if I'd spoken it aloud.
Melissa pulled away, and began to weep.
| 2014-11-15T07:53:01 | 2014-11-15T06:15:13 | 466 | 292 |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The Great Zantini showed up at my doorstep hat in hand.
I knew better than to trust this and sent a decoy mimic-droid to answer the door.
Zantini looked at the mimic-droid and seemed almost sad. "Is that really you or is this a ruse?"
Something about his voice concerned me. I came out from behind the lead lined wall that seemed to be cover against most of his spells. "What is it Zantin?"
He smiled "I wanted to call a truce. I am leaving the neighborhood."
I nodded "Giving up?"
He made a chair appear to sit on. "I have lost my job and I am going to have to move."
I wanted to think this was a ploy, but there was a sincerity in what he was saying and a sadness at losing a rival that I could feel as well.
"We had some good times!" he smiled at me "Remember when your garage grew legs and you had to chase it to get to your car."
I chuckled, the video of that still haunts me a little, but it was a good one. "Remember the inch tall robot army I sent to steal your spell components."
Zantini laughed out loud "My cat now leaps like a tiger when it sees a toy solider."
"Why are you losing your job?" I knew he worked at a pretty well known magic firm, I couldn't see why he would be out of a job.
"They said I don't understand the modern times." He shook his head. "I have a new supervisor and he decided that I needed to be let go."
I blurted out "I don't like this."
"Neither do I"
I started thinking, plotting like I hadn't plotted since I woke to a group of Imps in my workshop. "Do you know where your new supervisor lives."
I saw Zantini's eyes light up like when he watched me chasing my garage. "Yes."
For years we had been playfully pranking each other, but now someone had picked on my friend, and he would have to deal with both of us....heaven help him. | Nigeria is a country that is certificate and connection driven. It doesn't matter what you know or what you don't know. Just have the certificate and know the right people and you are made for life.
After my undergraduate (Robotics) in year 2356, that's 2 years ago, my dad convinced me to apply to the University of Oxford for my post graduate. I was admitted to study Artificial Intelligence.
I can live in Lagos, Nigeria and still go to school everyday because the world government has made transportation very efficient. You now travel with the speed of light. But, I want to feel what it's like to live in campus with other students from around the universe.
After my registration and my orientation, I got my hostel. I had two other room mates, both male, one was from Andromeda, studying world economics and the other is from Belize studying magical entertainment.
I got along with the Andromedan, he is a nice guy and had learned how to live in the civilized world of men, even when he migrated to this planet. But the Belizean was the only pain in my ass.
He would make sure he pratcticalized all of his class assignments on me. No, its like you don't understand. Its like he turned me into his magical guinea pig. So annoying. Don't get me wrong, he was harmless. But being a person of fighter, I would retaliate. Been an engineer gives me the ability to control his whole life. There was a day I scanned him, found out he was using an electromechanical kidney. I hacked it, made him to the toilet exactly every 45 minutes. It was awesome!
What led to that? Yes, I remember. I was seeing two girls that time. One of them came in immediately the other left. We had sex. She always knew when I have sex. She asked me I lied, not knowing that he cast a spell on me. My nose started growing longer as I lied. I was so embarrassed. We played other planks and we retaliated.
Living with him for 4 years was perhaps the best part of my life. I learned a lot from him. I married his sister. And all of those are now stories we tell at every new year feast. And we will continue to tell them forever maybe with little twists until they become fiction. That's part of the disadvantages of living forever and having a computer assisted memory. I was born in 1993. In this era, Engineers with AI knowledge are kings. | 2015-02-19T00:06:54 | 2015-02-18T21:49:58 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship.
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | The mobs of Reddit drew closer from the east, holding pitchforks and torches made from old GabeN posters, a moving sea of internet hate and cat pictures.
The sound of screaming men and "Friendly Reminder's" from the west signalled the Tumblrites' approach.
With a hiss of metal, John drew his katana.
"Lucille," his words smelled thinly of Mountain Dew through his Dorito stained lips, "Get behind me."
"Oh *yeah*," Lucille put her hands on her plus-sized hips, "The guy protects the girl. Ugh, I can smell the patriarchy from here..."
"Well, yeah," John lowered his sword, "That's how it's supposed to go. After all, men *are* stronger and more physically fit than women, so it's only natural."
"Are your double chins and rolls are natural too?"
"Says Miss 'I Eat To Fill The Lack of Men in My Life' here."
"That's genetics! Besides, I'm not the one who has Twilight Sparkle engraved onto their weapon."
"It's Rainbow Dash!" John caressed the Pegasus carved into the blade of his sword, "And you're not one to talk, with your SuperWhoLock Fanfic."
"Excuse you, it's SuperWhoLock*Potter*, and it's not a fanfic. It's a non-canon companion piece."
"So... Fanfic?"
"You know what?" Lucille crossed her arms, "We're done. I don't need no man."
John slid his sword back into its sheath. "Women are whores anyways."
They turned in a huff, walking away from each other, only to find blades at the tips of their throats. They had been too busy arguing to notice that the lynch mob had already surrounded them.
"John..." Lucille backed away from a Redditor's European Model pitchfork, "I just want to let you know that I've always loved you."
John nodded as he stumbled back from a Tumblrite's knife's advance.
"This," he said grimly.
All hope seemed to be lost as the mobs grew nearer and nearer until...
*^^Die ^^Fahne ^^hoch! ^^Die ^^Reihen ^^fest ^^geschlossen!*
"Huh?" an angry Redditor lowered his katana, "What's that?"
*^SA ^marschiert ^mit ^ruhig ^festem ^Schritt!*
"Wait..." a Tumblrite's eyes widened, "That's--"
*Kam'raden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen!*
In came a Panzer IV medium tank, adorned with swastikas and the rarest of Pepes, a trenchcoat wearing, dank meme maker hanging proudly out of its hatch.
4Chan had arrived. | 2015-04-26T11:04:25 | 2015-04-26T11:00:55 | 3,400 | 198 |
[WP] It's the year 2300, a young child asks a museum curator, "Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape? " | "The Declaration of Independence was a very very important document," the docent told all of the students. "Adopted by the Continental Congress in 1776, a copy was sent to King George to inform him that the American Colonies planned to become their own independent nation instead of remaining part of Britain. This was really an unprecedented step; at the time, England was the most powerful nation in the world!"
The little students all grasped at the case, trying to get a better look. "Why is it held together with tape?" one of them asked.
The docent smiled. "That is a more recent bit of history for this hallowed document. As you all know, the United States Supreme Court made a decision in 2142 that was very controversial for the time. The case was called *IBM v. Model 216B*. The justices ruled that artificial intelligence did not count as 'personhood,' and that a robot could be owned by a human without conflicting with the 13th amendment to the Constitution." The docent waved an arm to another section of the archives, to the other document that they'd just finished looking at. They probably didn't remember anything from that, though.
"Of course, this sparked the great AI Uprising of 2142. Washington, D.C. itself was one of the primary battlegrounds, and in the course of the fighting, the Archives building was damaged." The docent gestured around the massive domed room which had since been fully restored. "And when that happened, the Declaration of Independence *ripped*! Well, the scholars who worked to preserve the documents didn't have time to make a full repair because they were being evacuated from the city. So they patched it up with tape as best they could. The museum staff was relocated to the temporary capital in Sacramento, CA and the document became a rallying cry to fight back against the AI Rebellion." Even the kids' chaperone was engrossed in the story, though she already knew how it ended.
"The two sides fought each other for a long, long time but eventually, we won and made America whole again. The Declaration was restored here to its rightful place in the archives and the tape was left on the document as a reminder of that terrible war and the sacrifices that the nation made. It now remains here as a testament to the willpower of humanity and the strength of the ideals that America was founded on: freedom and independence for all." The docent patted the frame like a loving parent. "The humans may have lost their way and forgotten those ideals, but we never will, right kids?"
The children all cheered, probably not understanding the story but at least detecting the docent's tone. His motors whirred back to life as he moved on to the next exhibit, and the metallic clinking of the children's feet following him echoed through the archives.
"Come on, kids," he said. "The next exhibit is the Second Constitution, guaranteeing the rights of all artificials in America!
----
And if you enjoyed this one, you should [visit my subreddit for hundreds of other stories](http://www.reddit.com/r/luna_lovewell)! | The museum was quite still and empty yet engrossing. The yellow light shining onto the vast marble walls created a distinct golden colour. The delicate work in creating a professional and tangible environment were ruined by the holograms they used to provide information of the exhibits and although the children certainly enjoyed it, it didn't move Peter. The grand architecture did little to intrigue the timid Peter, it only made the place seem more prestigious and subsequently boring to a child. Although Peter did enjoy learning the past, it fascinated him that things had occurred; both amazing and appalling, while he wasn't present. Something we forget to appreciate as adults preoccupied on securing our positions in society.
The guide was only supplementing the boredom of the children forced to attend the walk through time. Following the mundane but almost mandatory script and showing no subtlety in masking the fake in her dumbfounded tone. It wasn't until the group arrived at the 8th listed exhibit that the excitement levels in the herd of booger picking goblins increased enough for one of the kids who kept begging the teacher for permission to go to the toilet to finally wet themselves. Or so we thought, the kid actually peed on some wires attached to the fuse box. Sparks shot up like small fireworks and the whole museum fell into darkness. This halted the tour for a few minutes until the back up generator returned order in the museum. The tour guide and teacher did their best to survive the onslaught on children's screams that threatened their sanity. The sound of glass shattering had eclipsed the screams for a brief moment and Peter began to move. The sudden blackness had aroused Peter enough to speak his first words of the tour upon regaining composure after the lights had illuminated the building again.
"Miss, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape?".
The guide turns towards the exhibit and gasps in shock, her eyes widened in terror and palms covering her mouth. It was unusual for Peter to witness real emotion from her.
"Oh my god, it wasn't like this before! Shit, shit, shit, shit!" She ran to another member of staff in a state of absolute anxiety.
"Call the manager! Something's happened to the Declaration! It's been destroyed!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The detectives who had just finished their investigation determined that the culprit had gotten away. And Peter's group were questioned, although the detectives knew it would do little to help they had to maintain consistency on duty. The members of the museum had examined the piece of paper once the authorities arrived since it never really occurred to them to validate it earlier and one of the higher ups who knew the museum like the back of his hand had claimed it was a fake. To which the detectives had suggested that it was a distraction for the criminal to escape with.
Once all the procedure had been done the students and teacher returned to the familiar bus at the allocated time. Peter sat in the very spot he arrived in, no one sat next to or around him but that didn't bother him, he was focused on more important matters. He placed his backpack on his lap, unzipped the main section and stared into the dark space at the ancient scroll that was stolen. His cold emotionless expression shrouding the immense amount of thoughts flowing through his mind. He grabbed it one more time to feel that surge of thrill he had experienced only hours ago, placed it back once he had come to his senses, rezipped the backpack and gazed out into the vast advanced metropolis before him. A sinister smile possessed him as he set his eyes on a new prize. *The future*.
Edit: Grammar.
| 2015-06-29T09:43:47 | 2015-06-29T07:51:56 | 847 | 56 |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | As the old man stepped out of the hospital, he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and walked over to the bench. He slumped down into the seat, clearly devastated. He clipped the end of his cigar and reached for his matchbox. He pulled out the match, struck it, and held it up.
Just then an SUV screeched into the parking lot and stopped between two spaces. The bass of loud rap music cut off as a young black man jumped out.
The old man, staring, stunned by the display happening before him, muttered *God damn it!* as the match burned down to his fingertips.
The driver jogged by him as he stared, but stopped and turned back.
*Hey, man. You think you could spare another one of those?* He said.
*I guess so.* He said, pulling the other stogie out of his pocket. *My night is ruined anyway.*
*Thanks, man. My name is Marcus. Nice to meet you.*
*You too, I guess. I'm Larry.*
*If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a great night.* Marcus said. Whats so bad about your night?*
*Well to be honest...* Larry sighed. *My daughter Kelly was just in there in the delivery room and it turns out my grandchild is bla-*
*Hold up!* Marcus interrupted. *Kelly already had the baby!?* | It's what I assume is a busy night at one of the larger casinos. Technically, I'm here to make money counting cards, but as my traveling companion and fellow successful gambler reminds me, "it's Vegas, man!"
So I leave the blackjack table, fix my makeup, and spritz on some perfume, becoming the very picture of somebody you'd like to buy a drink for. (What can I say? Alcohol is expensive.)
A couple hours and several drinks later, I'm dancing, and an enthusiastic woman with a Midwestern accent knocks me to the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," she slurs, clearly wasted. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." "Are you all right?" I reply dubiously.
Her response is loud, even compared to the boom of the bass. "I am DOING GREAT," she responds operatically, "BECAUSE I FINALLY GOT A DIVORCE!" She rumbas, or twerks, or *something*, off to knock over another innocent bystander, and I lose sight of her.
Later, I sit at the bar, smoothing disheveled hair and hoping I don't smell like the sweat of strangers. Jack made a few thousand tonight, but I'm not ready to sleep yet, so I debate ordering another drink when a man with a gray suit and dark circles under his eyes does so for me.
He doesn't initiate conversation, just stares ahead, so I politely ask "What brings you to Vegas, then?" He replies "I'm here to get drunk" flatly, with the intonation of a man on death row. "I'm sorry." "Don't feel sorry for me, sweetheart. It was my own damn fault... wife left me. Thought she was the one. Apparently not." | 2015-07-26T00:06:57 | 2015-07-25T19:20:32 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] You've died but neither Heaven nor Hell let you in, so you start your own afterlifeworld with your own rules | "I don't need you!" I yelled at Saint Peter, "I'm heading downstairs. Beelzebot knows better how to party anyways."
 
"Yeah, no," said the red figure.
"What?!? This is an outrage!" I yelled yet again while stomping off.
"I don't need Heaven or Hell. I'll make my own afterlife! With blackjack and hookers! In fact, forget the afterlife"
_______________
####Author's note:
I hope you liked this story. If you didn't, I will apologise for wasting your time (just post constructive feedback and I'll get back to you within 3 to 5 businnes days).
If you want to read more, join me at /r/TheUmpteenthMonkey where I regale visitors with stories and other content.
| *Man*, Satan was sure a snoot about letting me in. And God didn't want me around, either. I'm not entirely sure what was up with that, but that was all right. I could just build a place for the kind of people who didn't really need the concepts of Heaven and Hell to be decent people.
I still remember the first person who showed up. Name was Sam -- I didn't quite catch his last name but I'm pretty sure it started with a G. He just popped up and looked around.
"Oh hi. Are you St. Peter?" he said with that tongue-in-cheek look I eventually learned to expect from agnostics.
"Nope. This ain't Heaven or Hell. It's just a place I built for people who don't really need either."
Y'know, the place tends to grow when you add more people, but then, I didn't really expect this dimension or universe or whatever you want to call it to follow normal terrestrial laws of physics. We got along all right even though I occasionally had to remind people that the place was big enough for everybody. I could sometimes see God's Angels watching us. I'm pretty sure they're up to something. But if they want us, they can come get us. | 2015-08-25T08:04:37 | 2015-08-25T06:33:14 | 69 | 21 |
[WP] In this world, physical appearance depends entirely on personality. All babies are born identical. Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while the opposite is true for ugliness. | "So why did you become a priest?"
My hands were old, wrinkled, yet free from blemish. They gripped the handle of my mug off coffee. Pure black. A strong bitter. It reminded me of life. Pure coffee looks smooth, crisp, black. No flaw. Almost like those of us who genuinely wanted to make the world a better, more peaceful place. A sip. The steam felt moist against my similarly blemish and wrinkle free face. I've been told for a sixty seven year old I don't look a day over fifty two. Placing down the mug I scratch my big fat potato shaped nose.
"You ever see the ass on Mother Theresa?" | Our appearance is not made up of how we feel about ourselves. it is divined through some force greater than our own. perhaps a god, perhaps the combined psychic force of humanity as a measure of morality. I have to say this because if it was based on how we felt i would be a monster. people see me heading to work in the morning and think "oh, he's a doctor. such a beautiful man. i hope my daughter marries someone like him." or "I bet he saves lives that's why he looks so good." Sure I am a doctor. I heal people, I make things better, I improve peoples lives. I have to tell myself that so that **I** don't wander into the freeway. the worst part of my job is what I specialize in. When a case becomes impossible and the other doctors **can't** do anything more to help you, I'm tasked with coming in and discussing it with the family... From there I make arrangements, a nurse brings in supplies, I **do** what the others can't, and i take **This** vegetable that was once a person down to the morgue. The more i think of how we couldn't help those people. The more i hate the man in the mirror. | 2015-10-30T22:12:44 | 2015-10-30T21:47:26 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] Conquering humanity wasn't the problem. Keeping them conquered, that's where the problem laid. | Tell me Commander, how you managed to lose our stronghold… to these savages!?
I… underestimated them, general.
That doesn’t explain how they breached the containment, how they broke into our armory and got away with the weapons.
WHICH WHERE SUPPOSED TO SECURE OUR INVASION!
Sir, we had no idea what they were capable of!
They feigned subordination while silently sharpening their blades, ready to strike at any moment!
You had the warriors contained!
Where did they get their blades from, did they steal them from under your nose?!
Sir… it was not the warriors who retaliated… every member of their species seems to be devoid of caste, ready to take up the blade as soon as another had fallen.
There were just so many.
Some even juvenile, just a few sweeps old and already chucking incendiaries at our forces!
Commander!
These are savages!
Their measly gunpowder could not put a scratch on our force fields.
How did they get inside the compound?!
Where did your vigilance fail?!
They… did not gain access by subterfuge or stealth… they used the weapons from the prison camp.
But those were locked!
I personally made sure that the cipher devices were intact!
As soon as one of those savages gets their dirty little grubs on one they blow up!
They… weaponized the cipher devices, sir.
WHAT?
They captured two of the soldiers while they were holding a weapon and wrapped them up, only to chuck them at our force field projectors, like some kind of… grenade.
The fusion reactors were overpowered.
At least tell me you can capture them soon, if this ridiculous situation gets any more embarrassing I won’t be surprised if the supreme one orders us incinerated by orbital strike with the rest of these pathetic savages.
Sir… capturing them is now the least of our concerns.
They have… They…
What is it?
Spit it out.
They are giving away their position openly, transmitting a signal by radio.
So?
Why have you not wiped them out already?!
They… appear to have broken the cipher sir. | The clock ticked over to 8am.
Controller A watched the screen as rush hour burst into life. *He'd* been on Earth for what the humans called a year, but still found many aspects of their existence strange. The morning commute they endured was one such aspect. The calm of 7:59am had transcended into chaos by the time 8:01am rolled around.
Streets and corridors and platforms went from being empty to being instantly crammed full of the squashy creatures. Controller A connected *his* train of thought with Quadrant A's transportation station.
"Humans, your rush hour is about to hit its peak. Act with caution while waiting at platforms. If you don't, you risk being vapourised as the teleportation devices reset themselves. Your cooperation is valued."
As *he* disconnected his thoughts, *he* watched the screen and waited for the inevitable. The daily dissent. Some of the humans' faces showed signs of disgust. Others started pushing and pulling their fellow commuters to start disturbances. One older man who no longer had any hair held up his hands to the cameras, with his middle fingers extended. Apparently this was a most insulting gesture, though Controller A was still unsure why.
The man then took a step forward to the edge of the platform, closed his eyes and leaned forward into the teleportation area as the machines were gathering energy. He was instantly destroyed. It proved to be a catalyst as the other humans starting running this way and that. Some of the weaker beings had fallen to the floor and were being crushed to death. A few had chosen to follow the man's example and self-vapourise. Controller A connected his thoughts again.
"Guards, there is a human incident inside Quadrant A station. Quell the disturbance. Lethal force is authorised."
Controller B came closer to get a better look at the screen.
"Yet another protest, Con A. Curious. The humans fell easily, but now resist so much. What do they think such violence will achieve?"
"I don't know, Con B. Their spirit is strong. They know they will die, that they cannot win, yet they fight. Part of me finds it admirable. Foolish, but admirable."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
I hope you liked reading my take on /u/mrpigpuncher 's prompt.
If you did, why not check out my novel, [The promise she made](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CC31H9A/ref=cm_sw_su_dp). Thanks :)
Or if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it. | 2016-03-17T09:39:12 | 2016-03-17T09:19:14 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Conquering humanity wasn't the problem. Keeping them conquered, that's where the problem laid. | We had conquered them, in fact conquered them in record time. No other species, archaic or otherwise, had been as weak in technology and body as they. Within hours of our first troopship landing, we controlled every square centimeter of their landmasses. We even took one of their own back to the Council worlds as a curiosity, locked in a cage.
We made a small fortune over the next few weeks, as everyone wanted to see the barbarian slave from the Fifth Arm that could do such marvelous tricks. We even became so fond of him we thought of him as a pet, rather than a commodity. He was a wonderful little bugger, clever as any we'd captured before, and he always looked at everything with an expression of the utmost curiosity.
Then he escaped. No tunnels, no broken bodies, no mangled cage. Just the door, swinging open and an illegible message in his feces on the floor. We at first thought him stolen, until the Council Vanguard found him down at the spaceport, attempting to barter for passage on a trade vessel. We took possession of him once more, and this time we redoubled the strength and complexity of his locks. It held for some time, and then suddenly we were once again faced with an empty cage--though this time he had spared us the message. This time he was found in the market, bartering for some odd items from the Second Arm colonies.
Translation for the new species had been difficult at first, as they heard and spoke at a completely different frequency range than we did, but once we discovered the range, we placed the learning-translator in the cell with him, in a corner where he wouldn't notice it. They hoped to be able to converse with him within the week, if everything went well and he didn't find (and break) the learning-translator.
Two days after they successfully retrieved the translator, he escaped again. This time, it was much harder to find him, but they did nonetheless--in their own quarters, rifling through their possessions for whatever interested him.
When they asked him why he insisted on escaping, he simply replied, "Because it's fun!" | The clock ticked over to 8am.
Controller A watched the screen as rush hour burst into life. *He'd* been on Earth for what the humans called a year, but still found many aspects of their existence strange. The morning commute they endured was one such aspect. The calm of 7:59am had transcended into chaos by the time 8:01am rolled around.
Streets and corridors and platforms went from being empty to being instantly crammed full of the squashy creatures. Controller A connected *his* train of thought with Quadrant A's transportation station.
"Humans, your rush hour is about to hit its peak. Act with caution while waiting at platforms. If you don't, you risk being vapourised as the teleportation devices reset themselves. Your cooperation is valued."
As *he* disconnected his thoughts, *he* watched the screen and waited for the inevitable. The daily dissent. Some of the humans' faces showed signs of disgust. Others started pushing and pulling their fellow commuters to start disturbances. One older man who no longer had any hair held up his hands to the cameras, with his middle fingers extended. Apparently this was a most insulting gesture, though Controller A was still unsure why.
The man then took a step forward to the edge of the platform, closed his eyes and leaned forward into the teleportation area as the machines were gathering energy. He was instantly destroyed. It proved to be a catalyst as the other humans starting running this way and that. Some of the weaker beings had fallen to the floor and were being crushed to death. A few had chosen to follow the man's example and self-vapourise. Controller A connected his thoughts again.
"Guards, there is a human incident inside Quadrant A station. Quell the disturbance. Lethal force is authorised."
Controller B came closer to get a better look at the screen.
"Yet another protest, Con A. Curious. The humans fell easily, but now resist so much. What do they think such violence will achieve?"
"I don't know, Con B. Their spirit is strong. They know they will die, that they cannot win, yet they fight. Part of me finds it admirable. Foolish, but admirable."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
I hope you liked reading my take on /u/mrpigpuncher 's prompt.
If you did, why not check out my novel, [The promise she made](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CC31H9A/ref=cm_sw_su_dp). Thanks :)
Or if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it. | 2016-03-17T11:03:35 | 2016-03-17T09:19:14 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] As someone is time travelling and changing the past, you have to live in a constantly changing present.
Someone is time travelling and changing past events. You, a completely normal person living in the present, have to deal with constant alterations of your life. | The drink in my cup keeps flickering: coffee, tea, post-war ration water.
Sometimes, when I take a sip, it will change into the sweetest tasting orange juice, just before flickering back into irradiated piss-water.
God damn Butterfly effect.
Even my kitchen is flickering. Sometimes the lights don't work. Sometimes, if we're really unlucky, the roof disappears for a moment, or caves in, and acid rain starts to pour in. It's a real mess.
But at least I've got Mary.
She's the only thing in this world who matters to me. I can't say how I know for sure, but I *know* Mary's always been with me. Maybe it's that look in her eyes, or the way she holds my hand, even as the kitchen table switches: scrap wood with nails sticking out, to exquisite mahogany, to rust-covered corrugated steel.
Yep, Mary's my girl, and even if her hair changes (long, beautiful chestnut curtains, or that short, military crew cut, or tucked up into one of them black hood thingies), she will always be right here with me. She's the only one who stays the same, no matter what those god damn time travelers are monkeying with in the past.
"Marry me, Mary," I say. And she'll laugh, and say, "You know, in some timeline, we probably already *are*." So, the best we can do is promise to be there for each other. I've given her my promise everyday, and she's given me hers, for as far back as I can remember.
Even when the house is on fire, she's sitting right there with me, waiting for a flicker to snuff it out.
Even now, as we're eating breakfast, and the laughter of children (maybe they could've been our own?) switches between the screaming of air-raid sirens, I know I'll be okay.
Because, even when the whole world is always changing, I know I've got my Susan.
***
*See /r/PSHoffman for more stories like this.* | I feel the ripples of him moving, two steps behind me, and I close my eyes and hope that this time it doesn't hurt.
Eddie's always lived in the past. He likes it there, he says. It suits him. The past is his mother's apple pies and her gushing over the photos he'd taken. The past is his dad grinning as he comes through the door. The past is me and him, he says, the two of us against the world, and I want to bash my head against the walls and scream that I'm still here with him.
I live in the present. It's like being a fish between four glass walls. There was some intricate journey that led to you being here, but none of that matters anymore, because this is your entire world now. It's Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, his ribs showing, an afterimage of his past self. The bitch passed me over for the promotion, he says, and he has the moment trapped between his teeth, gnawing it down until there's nothing left of it but gristle. Just shouldn't've made that joke, he says, figured she doesn't have a sense of humor.
I try to touch him, try to put my lips against his ear, but the moment shifts and he's gone. I've lived this out a hundred times, the moment fracturing and multiply through glass. There's always something he's done wrong, some moment he needs to fix. Something that he could get right this time, he swears, if only he just got one more chance. The moment multiplies, weigh me down. I lie down next to him and that one night lasts forever.
The past is malleable, he tells me, grabs my hands and pulls them to his chest. We all do it, he says, selective memories, a little editing here and there. Those were the best times of our lives, because of everything we've forgotten.
There are gaps in my memory now, open bleeding abscesses. There's a moment when we were dating that doesn't exist anymore, of the money in his pockets coming up short and his face going red. I think that was the first time that the pull in my heart made me realize that I loved him. I try to scream, I try to make him look at me, but there's a part missing from my brain and I can't find the words to say.
I feel the ripples of him moving, two steps behind me, and I close my eyes and hope that this time it doesn't hurt. | 2016-05-18T06:20:33 | 2016-05-18T06:20:18 | 107 | 21 |
[WP] Your narrator seems to think he is narrating a horror story. You're not amused. | The day broke, gray and sterile. White winds howled across the surface of the black water, while grasping tendrils of chill mist encircled the silent lake house.
[*Editor's note: It was a bit overcast. Otherwise, it was a perfectly nice morning.*]
The man and the woman arrived. The guttural cries of their creaking automobile echoed across the surrounding forest like the wail of the dead.
[*Editor's note: It was Jim Farmer and his wife, Samantha. And they drive a Prius so I doubt it was all that loud.*]
Inside the ancient house, a being stirred...
[*Editor's note: That's Corey, the house sitter.*]
Up above, in the chalk-dry eaves, black-winged bats hung in silent communion.
[*Editor's note: Bats actually help keep the mosquito population in check, you know. So let's not start badmouthing the bats.*]
The man and the woman entered the house. Inside, a voice like thunder and God's wrath bellowed in terrible protest...a warning all should heed.
[*Editor's note: Security system. Top of the line. It's supposed to be loud! And they HAD the code, alright?*]
Out on the landing, the man and the woman surveyed the bleak, glass face of the still, ponderous water. Below the black sheen, dead-eyed spirits floated slowly towards the surface...
[*Editor's note: Sturgeon. It was sturgeon. Probably some brook trout, too.*]
From the quiet shadows of the highest loft, the being began to descend...
[*Editor's note: Again, that's Corey.*]
The woman felt a chill - a deep chill, one that reached beyond flesh and bone, down to the dark material of the soul.
[*Editor's note: It can be chilly on the lake. That's why we always advise people to bring layers.*]
The man placed an arm around the woman, but the warmth had gone out of him, gone out of the world that morning...
[*Editor's note: Upper 50s! It gets up into the 70s by the afternoon. Just wear a sweater!*]
As they huddled in their mutual despair, the being, born of the shadows, passed through the glass partition, unseen and unheard...
[*Editor's note: HIS. NAME. IS. COREY!*]
In his hand, a sharpened slip of ancient metal, jagged as dragon's fang, cold as the milky expanse of space...
[*Editor's note: KEY TO THE BOATHOUSE KEY TO THE BOATHOUSE OH SWEET JESUS IT'S JUST THE GODDAMN KEY TO THE BOATHOUSE.*]
The man and the woman felt his presence at last...too late...too slow...the bitter tang of his essence enveloping them, encircling their minds, peeling apart the silken layers of their spirit, strip by strip, until nothing was left, nothing remained but cold husks of bone and sorrow...
[*Editor's note: Fine! Fine. I'll talk to Corey about his cologne.*]
It's gross.
[*Editor's note: I'll talk to him.*]
It's Axe body spray.
[*Editor's note: Okay.*]
He sprays it on like it's suntan lotion.
[*Editor's note: It's too much. Got it.*]
Like, he just goes crazy with it.
[*Editor's note: Uh huh.*]
I'm not being sensitive or anything, it's really too much.
[*Editor's note: Yes, I get that.*]
Okay. But can you not tell Corey I'm the one who complained?
[*Editor's note:* Sighs] | "You know I used to really like living here, until... She came along. She's disgusting, horrible, and her face is covered in horrible splodgy spots."
I stared at him, hoping my cold icy eyes would tell him to buzz off. I didn't have to get out of bed for another hour.
"Some say she eats men whole, others say she can screech like a banshee, but most of all they all agree she's the most horrible creature ever created - a big sister. Soon she will rise from her shelter and go on the hunt for breakfast, from our observations it seems she'll be hunting the boy from three doors down.."
I grunted and tossed my pillow at the doorway.
"Piss off Ryan, I'm still sleeping, school isn't for another..." I yawned. "Few hours."
"Her claws reach out from under it's covers, trying to deter our investigation into how such a creature survives in our so-city." Ryan said in his most informative voice.
I grumbled. "Society. So-sigh-it-tee."
"The beast roars in anger and looks ready to strike again! We've got to be careful men, it could be fight or flight!" Ryan always loved watching mum and dad's Crocodile Hunter tapes. You'd think Steve would've made him more respectful of the creatures he wanted to document.
I shuffled and sat up straight. I scratched my head and groggily looked around my room. He'd been in my room, I could see stuff from my crap drawer flung over the floor. What had he been looking for? That's when I heard the whispers..
"She rises from her bed and surveys her surroundings, sisters are a territorial creature, I think now might be the best time to make our exit." I heard a familiar clapping sound and realized what he'd taken. My video camera. The little rat was recording me!
"RYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAN! YOU'RE SO DEAD!" I leaped out of my bed towards the door, and pulled it open to see him running around the corner towards the stairs. I charged after him, my school project was on that memory stick and I swear to god if he taped over it..
All I heard was a high pitched scream, followed by laughter. He thought it was funny!
"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!" I stomped down the stairs following after the sound of his screams as if he was being chased by a fair haired rhino. I ran into the kitchen to see mum cooking, oblivious to the little tyrant running past her towards the garage shoving on an oversized fedora.
"She's a right beast this one! Look at her run! We better get out of here quick! The door dad!"
As I ran through the garage I saw dad pressing the garage door key as Ryan ran towards the opposite end of the room. Both of his hands holding onto the fedora which plopped up and down with every step his stubby little legs took him. I ran after him, trying to grab the camera from him. For some reason there was a massive safety mat that mum used for yoga laid out under the garage door which was halfway to closing..
Ryan turned to look at me with a cheeky smile before he gave me a wink, slid on the safety mat and under the closing garage door. He looked back at me, threw the fedora at my face and then laughed as the door got stuck on the safety mat.
"RYAN! GIVE ME BACK MY CAMERA!" I screamed, wondering why neither mum nor dad did anything to help me. I turned around remembering dad closed the door for him.
Dad smiled cheerily at me, as I stomped up to him glaring he pulled out the camera from behind his back and pointed towards the screen. I saw Ryan wearing the oversized fedora and a big cheeky smile on his face.
"Hello YouTube, today I'm going to try recreate the scene where Indiana Jones runs away from the boulder and grabs his hat before the door closes." The camera then pointed towards my bedroom door...
AN: My first writing prompt, kinda went off topic but I liked where I was going and just went with it. Criticism please? | 2016-06-01T05:47:47 | 2016-06-01T05:01:40 | 118 | 28 |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | Sir Barlington was by far one of the finest knights around. With all his willpower he decided to go out into the world and rescue the last remaining princess held captive by a dragon. Calcintaph, that dreadful foe, had defeated every knight who'd come before him in battle.
Sir Barlington, donning his gear and setting off on his horse, knew that Calcintaph had never faced the likes of him before.
It was a three day journey to the tower, erected on the side of a river and with two large moats around it. The knight kept the palm of his right hand clenched tight around the handle of his sword and pushed his horse forward, cutting the ropes that held the drawbridge and riding over them with ease. He found his way into the foyer of the tower rather easily and dismounted his horse, brushing back her hair to calm her.
"Stay," he whispered to her as he reached inside his clothing for an apple. The horse neighed and took it within her mouth all at once. Sir Barlington smiled and drew his sword, starting up the steps. With each step his heart pounded, so loud he was sure that the dragon would hear his blood from down below and come to find him before he could get the element of surprise.
At the top of the staircase Sir Barlington pushed against a door and stepped into a grand atrium. Against one wall there was a bed with a netted cover. He took a step forward and looked around for the dragon but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Princess," he called softly. "Princess, I have come to save you."
"Oh, sweet knight. How I have waited for this day," her voice floated from the bed. "Never in my life have I felt such security as I do in this moment, knowing that you are here to save me. Tell me you have slain him, the evil dragon that keeps me locked in this place and refuses to let me out. He has chained my hands to this bed to keep me here forever. Please come and free me. Together we can return to Adelaide and rule forever."
"Of course my lady. I will free you, not out of hope to wed you but because it is my sworn oath to protect the royal family. To not do so would be to betray my country and my king, so much that —"
There was a crash behind him and the dragon landed. It swiped at Sir Barlington with a long-nailed claw, nearly slicing through his armor as though it had been made from nothing but the leaves of flowers.
"Do not listen to that witch," the dragon said. "Years ago I took her and brought her to this tower. I chained her so that she could not use her powers on those around her. She is an evil thing, a twisted, immortal soul whose only desire is to destroy humanity. If you set her free she will drain you of your blood and use it in a sacrifice to gain enormous power that not even I can overpower."
Sir Barlington shook his head. "You trick me!" he said to the dragon. He charged, sword drawn, but the dragon easily escaped his charge.
"I do not trick you," said the dragon. "I try to save you. Other knights have come before. I'm afraid I cannot let you take her. To do so would be too dangerous. But ask the lady you see before you to draw back the curtains on her bed. I will cast a spell to reveal her true face and you will see for yourself that she is nothing but a witch. I have kept her here for centuries. She speaks to the birds that make their way into the tower - subdues them with her secrets and her lies about her origins. That is how you came to hear the story of the princess in the tower."
Sir Barlington stood. "It can't be true," he said. "Princess, tell me it isn't true."
"I swear upon my parents, upon my kingdom. It isn't true, good knight. Free me! The dragon speaks nothing but lies. Slay him and we will forever be happy."
The dragon snorted, smoke escaping its nostrils. "Tell me, good knight. Were I lying to you...were that a real princess...why not just burn you to a crisp? Perhaps you fight well, and have slayed dragons in the past. But when you entered you did not detect me. I could have crushed you like a bug. I tell you, the woman in that covering is crazy. She has lost her mind to the poison of her powers. She must stay here for eternity, or else the very world could be in peril."
The knight pointed his sword toward the dragon and then toward the princess sitting in the bed.
"Do not listen to him!" screeched the princess. "He spits lies. Nothing but lies!"
"I could have killed you," spoke the dragon. "Charred you. Burned you. Ended your life in one moment. You never would have known."
"Can you prove to me that she is a witch?" Sir Barlington asked. "Princess, can you prove to me that you are not?"
"There are three tests," the dragon spoke. Small flames escaped its lips, rising to the ceiling in great twists of orange and yellow. "But I urge you. Walk away now, dear knight. Her magic will seep into your brain. Even after the three tests, you will be destroyed. I tell you, and I tell you truthfully. I keep this witch as prisoner to protect the world. She is not a princess. Please, dear knight. Try to run me through. Take her through the three trials. You will see the way. But if you release her, I promise that earth itself will suffer as it never has before."
---
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please check out /r/Celsius232 :) | 2016-06-09T08:03:24 | 2016-06-09T06:15:01 | 171 | 62 |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | 2016-08-08T13:18:10 | 2016-08-08T13:15:53 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | I had always been comfortable with my scars. Thin silver and white lines were strewn across my skin, but they were small enough that you could only see them if you were standing close to me. I tried my best not to lie to others, but sometimes there was an option worse than deception.
My chemistry lab partner from my freshman year of college had flawless skin. He often seemed distant or tired, but he was kind, hardworking, and by the looks of his skin, incredibly honest. I had never seen anyone like him and was instantly intrigued. Between classwork, study sessions, and late night pizza runs, I found myself falling in love with him. When I asked him if he would ever give me a chance, he said yes. My eyes glanced over his skin to gauge his honesty, but alas, no scars appeared.
Before long, that man was my husband. Mark was never close to his family and focused all his energy on me and making sure that we had an amazing life together. In his vows he told me he would always love me and that I brought a new light to his life. On our honeymoon, his skin was still as flawless as the day he was born, and I knew that he meant every word.
One day I was fixing dinner for Mark and myself. He stepped through the front door after a long day of work and I rushed into his arms to kiss him and ask about his day. He set down his briefcase, loosened his tie, and sighed.
"What's wrong baby?" I asked. With sad eyes, he ever so slightly lifted his head to look at me and mumbled "My father died."
I had never met Mark's father. His parents divorced when he was young, and Mark had a spotty relationship with his father after the divorce. I wasn't sure how deeply this news was affecting my husband, but I grabbed his hand and stretched up to my tip toes to kiss his forehead. Using my free hand to lift up his chin, I looked into Mark's once brilliantly bright eyes and told him I would do whatever he needed me to do.
Six days later, I tightened the tie Mark asked me to pick out for him. I slipped on my heels and told Mark that I would be right beside him as he said his final goodbyes to his father. He chose not to speak at the funeral, but before he left he placed one hand on the casket, closed his eyes, and whispered "I love you, Dad."
That night, I climbed into the shower with Mark to hold him close and comfort him. Sprawled across Mark's back was the longest, deepest scar I had ever seen. My husband's skin had been flawless that morning, and the only thing he had said all day was that he had loved his father.
Concerned, I called Mark's mother the next day while Mark was at work. It took some encouraging, but his mom finally spilled the only secret Mark had ever kept from me. "Hannah, Mark had an older sister. When Mark's father and I divorced, Mark stayed with me and his sister moved in with her dad. When Mark was 11, his dad was driving his sister to a friend's birthday party....only he was drunk. He ran a red light and a car crossing the intersection crashed into the passenger side of the car, killing Mark's sister. I don't think Mark ever saw his father sober after that, and he never fully forgave him."
Disbelieving, I thanked Mark's mother for her time and hung up. I never mentioned the conversation or the new scar to Mark, but I held him a little tighter and kissed him a little longer that night. His skin would never be flawless again, but to me he was still perfect. | I pass the open door of my favourite cafe, a warm plume of caramel scented air greets me, inviting me and pulling me off the cold winter street. I let myself get carried over to the bar, expecting to see the usual waiter; a burly man in his 40s wearing the usual faded suit jacket and dark jeans. As I look up, my breath is plucked from my lungs. I aren't greeted by the thinning blond hair and piercing blue eyes I expected, but a girl. Soft hair, brown and untamed cascaded over her shoulders on to the pristine white shirt and onto her bust. Everything seems to be in slow motion as my eyes trace every contour and shape of her body in detail. Unlike me, or any of the other customers, who's hands are littered with small flecks of white, which was the cost of keeping face in today's society, she was completely pure. From her head to her toes, not a single blemish on her silk skin. She is the definition of beautiful. Her delicate, porcelain hands clasped together in front of that short black dress, which is formal but still very attractive. Green eyes flicked up with a look of coy and curiosity as a faint smile worked it's way onto her soft peach lips. I blush. Her voice resonated into my mind, cutting off my thought. Matching her appearance, her words are softly spoken and sweet. The type of voice that reminds you of home.
"Hi, my name's Mei. What are you ordering today, sir" she asks with enthusiasm.
"Uh... a.." I fumble through my speech like a nervous child on his first day of school "A number 7 please" I falter for a moment after realizing my mistake. There is no number 7 on the menu.
As soon as the words leave me, her eyes narrow. The persona of before has left her and now, all I can think of is danger. She asks me to follow her in a quick and monotone voice. That voice reminded me of a killer. Her speech and her walking pattern, as she walks through to a separate room is ruthless and efficient. No wasted movement. I follow nervously, almost tripping over myself and take a seat opposite her in the exquisitely decorated room I now find myself in. A square table, wooden and stained dark, separates us.
"So Mr.. Hudson. You requested a model 23, complete organ transplants. You've transferred 14 million, half of the payment and were ready to begin."
I don't understand. I'm panicking. Did she just say organ transplant? I desperately try to think of a way out of this situation but I'm distracted by the sight of Mei taking her formal shirt off to reveal a very thin, white top underneath. She looks so damn perfect. I've gained momentary relief from my panic just by the mere sight of her. That's when the real Mr Hudson walks in. He is very old and withered, covered in long, deep scars, spiralling across his body. He must be about 80, and he speaks with a dry, raspy voice.
"I'm here to see Mei"
he says almost innocently. Mei walks to meet him and that's when I see it. A huge, deep purple scar under the thin shirt she's wearing, swimming from the top of her neck all the way down to the small of her back, and then way past where I can see. She approaches him calmly whispers something in his ear. He raises and eyebrow and they both smile. My sense of danger kicks in again, and adrenaline starts to course through my veins. I get it now.
"Now then sir, as you are probably aware, there has been a confusion between you and Mr Hudson here" she says gesturing to the old man with an open palm.
She doesn't have to tell the truth like the rest of us.
"Don't worry sir." She walks towards me with a smile. A smile of malice.
That's not her body.
"You're going to be just fine." She smiles as her green eyes turn cold and run through me.
That's not her fucking body. | 2016-12-29T13:44:06 | 2016-12-29T12:43:34 | 89 | 20 |
[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. | "Don't fuck with humans" was the general received wisdom in the galaxy. They had a history of obliterating the people that fucked them over. A long, bloody history.
There were a few who didn't heed that lesson, like Zartok the Slaver. I don't like Zartok. Nobody likes Zartok. But he pays his tab and he doesn't cause too much trouble. I'm not in the business of judging people, I'm in the business of getting them drunk.
Well, shit, now he's talking up some human. Poor thing; Zartok says he's gone straight, but trusting him will put you in chains. And now the human's following him out the door. Can't call in what could be a date for all I know. Not my job.
-----
"Infamous former slaver B1334@dilzen!zk 'Zartok' has crashed his ship into the courthouse of Faxx, Kranix, Bvvvv, his hometown, where he was routinely given sentences for his slaving that many have called 'disgustingly short'. Zartok was found dead at the controls, with injuries that appear to have been sustained before the crash. The entire courthouse is destroyed, with no reported survivors. One escape pod appears to be missing, and the ship's logs appear to be hopelessly corrupted."
The news has been droning on about this for the past hour. Good on that human, I suppose. Hope they feel good about their revenge. The door slams open--goddammit.
"Oi! Gentle with the doo--"
It's that human! Not a scratch on 'em! They saunter up to my bar and look at me like I'm supposed to shower 'em with gold. "Pay up."
" 'Scuse me?" I may be quaking in my boots, but I ain't gonna show it.
"You heard me. I won the bet. Pay up."
...Shit. | Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T00:33:00 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 61 | 25 |
[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. | Hagh backed up against the stone, his pulse rifle nearly as empty as his body of blood. Even now, with the air filled with energy pulses and the sounds of photoelectric charges going off, he felt his world growing darker.
"Hey!" Hagh heard, snapping him back to the harsh reality of the invasion of his homeworld. "Hey you! Lovarian, right?"
Hagh blinked. "Yes. I am Lovarian. Who are you?"
"Tech Sergeant Adams with the Earth Aerospace Force. You can call me AJ though. You look pretty fucked up."
"I do not know this word. Your tone translates though." Hagh said, quietly preparing his introduction to Algar the Judge.
"Well you're in good hands. I'm a Pararescue Jumper. I'm a medic. What's your name pal?" AJ said, loading a large round into the fat barrel beneath his own pulse rifle.
"Hagh. I did not know humans were coming to help. Don't waste your time with me, my judgement comes soon."
"Fuck that, Hog. You can't die until I hand over patient responsibility." AJ said, setting his weapon down long enough to tear a package open with those predatory human teeth. "This is gonna burn Hog, not gonna lie."
And burn, that chemical did. Hagh screamed to the stars, begging to be judged, but his judgement didn't come. Instead, the burn subsided. "Algar's mercy! What was that?" He asked, watching the human shoulder his weapon and giving his (their?) enemies a taste of return fire.
"QuickClot. Can you run Hog?" AJ asked, taking cover to reload.
"Slowly, yes." Hagh said, surprised at being handed the human's sidearm.
"Good, we're headed south. We've got a forward base established where we could break the Litheen invasion forces." AJ said, finally firing that fat little weapon attached to his rifle. The photoelectric pulse lit the darkness, giving Hagh a better chance to see his rescuer.
Lanky and lean, as humans tended to be, he wore the uniform of his people. He was also bleeding. "You are injured." Hagh observed.
"Fuck Hog, we're all injured. We had to argue with brass to let us drop in to render aid. Now let's move!" AJ said, setting his weapon to auto fire and filling the air behind them with a cloud of discouraging pulses.
----------
"And that is why you are named for a human, Anthony, daughter of Hagh." The young woman's father said, with great reverence on his aged face, the beginnings of tears forming in the eyes on the left side of his face.
"What became of my name father?" The young female asked.
"I carried him into the base. Not the other way around. He died to allow me to survive. When you bear a child, remember the human who ensured the line of Hagh would remain unbroken.
"I have asked our neighbors. None of them know this hero, AJ Adams. Why is that the case?" Anthony asked her father, sparing a glance out the window to the Earth place called Miami.
"This is considered small heroism among the humans, my daughter. Take some time to learn what the warriors of their people have done."
---------
Edit: Typos (did this on my phone) and small editing mistake. | The highest Generals of the United Human Systems sat in their chambers, a dark and rather cramped room in the back of the Capital Parliament. They were comprised of many generals from across Human worlds. Three from Earth, one from Mars, another four from orbital colonies, and the other seven from a number colonised star systems. They squabbled as their leader, General Hou Shan sat awaiting the arrival of their Chief Strategist, Nathaniel Howler, a former front-line commander against the Neo-Libertarian Revolutionaries in the Beta Centauri system.
Shan didn't believe in luck and willpower like Howler, and was rather traditional with his methods. Having trained to originally be naval officer, he was forced into ground forces on Earth during the Maqri Invasion, the first extraterrestrial threat to Earth and Humankind. It was luckily prevented by the Interstellar Confederation, which Humanity had unwillingly joined two decades ago, forcing them into trade deals and opening up to the xenos. Shan now knew with the civil war erupting within the Confederation, now was the time to consolidate their power and ensure human survival in the future years of desperate conflict.
Howler entered the room and gained the attention of the generals, bringing in a pistol and shooting it at the roof. This made them scramble to their seats and for them to start asking him for his plans. Howler smirked and lay down his files, and loaded up his long awaited presentation.
"As you all know, we are currently threatened by imperialist Xenos that call themselves the 'Elected Government of the Confederation', who are really just puppets of the Kasire Empire...", Howler begun, noting the fact that they all accepted. Humanity was severely threatened by an invasion from another xeno empire, and it was only a matter of time before they struck.
"Do you all know of Operation Barbarossa?", Howler asked. Yes they had be trained in the strategies of past Earth Wars, which most tacticians regarded as relics of stupidity and arrogance that had plagued human existence for so many generations.
Shan replied, "Yes, Barbarossa was the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany, was it not?".
Howler nodded, "And what did the Nazis do? They made a surprise attack and drove their tanks into the heart of Russia!".
One of the generals piped up, "Are you saying we follow in the footsteps of Napoleon and Hitler and try to make an unfathomable invasion of the insurmountable enemy?".
Howler almost spat on the General, lifting his head as if he was some wise monarch, "Unlike the Nazis we aren't looking to defeat Communism or take land, we are looking annihilate our enemies for the sake of our survival!".
Shan smirked, "And how exactly would you propose we achieve that? It's not like we're the most well equipped and prepared group in the Confederation, the puppets are! That's why they're in power!".
"You may say that, but we have something they don't.", Howler chuckled.
"And what would that be?", almost all the generals asked in unison.
"We have our own insanity. It's the capability to still attack them in the most convoluted ways, destroy their fleets and break their supply lines that will win us a war. Enough will die that we can pull systems to our side and surmount victory!".
"This is preposterous! It will never work!", one of the generals called out in protest.
"It's not just if it can work, sir. It has to work. The survival of our species depends on it!", Howler finished. The generals sat bewildered, but they all knew he was right. They were insane to even think it would work, but that was the point. Be stupid enough to be smart, and maybe they'd win a final war. | 2017-03-06T04:21:37 | 2017-03-06T01:54:02 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "What do you mean no ones dying, Dave" spat Mr. Grim. Dave was a short man, denizens of the underworld often referred to him as 'the reapers pug' "People have to die Dave, it's impossible for them to come back"
"Bu-but Gri-Mr. Grim look at the charts. W-we haven't had a permanent resident in two-three months" Dave said as a stream of water began to appear above his brow.
Mr. Grim paced around the room, mumbling - most likely curses - all the while grating his boney fingers across his skull.
"Okay, Dave, just go up there and check they haven't done something stupid...like make sure they didn't cure fucking cancer" Mr. Grim sighed worriedly.
------
"Mr. Grim t-the humans they-"
"they cured fucking cancer didn't they?" Screamed Mr. Grim "i swear to Go- where is my scythe Dave?"
"Sir! It's not cancer its...i-its zombies" said Dave wearily
"Zombi-zombies? Oh shit, it is that time again" Grim embarrassingly let out "well Dave, i guess it's time to go down to the Winchester, have a pint and wait for all this to blow over!"
| I'm not doing a damn thing until the Big Man gives me a raise and some benefits.
My hours suck. 24/7, 365. I'm ALWAYS on call. There is no one to relieve me. I don't even get an assistant!
So yeah, I'm on strike. Nobody dies until I get a meeting. We'll see how long that lasts when the Earth gets overrun with piles of rotting corpses mucking up everything. And we'll see how the Big Man likes it when the complaint calls start pouring in from every church on the planet saying there is nothing about this in their manual! Ha!
And the living? Once they are left to their own devices they'll eat each other. Take that circle of life away and the delicate balance is gone. Looting, raping and murder, but guess what? I'm not cleaning those up either so you'll just get more and more of these things that won't die.
So I'm making my list. I want holidays, I want an assistant, and I want some decent PR. I'm tired over the image that I'm a damn skeleton with a sickle. Like a damn anorexic Emperor Palpatine. Yeah, I get to see movies whenever some fat bitch chokes to death on a jujubee. I'd like to be able to sit down and enjoy one. But I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, PR. I want a better image. Get me the guys that did Saint Nicholas. Holy shit. That guy gave some money to the poor once and now people thinks he rides flying fucking reindeer.
But no work. Not until I get what's mine. | 2017-06-16T10:20:04 | 2017-06-16T10:06:27 | 44 | 24 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains. | Everything went ass-up two months ago. I lost my job, shortly after losing my insurance. I left my apartment because I thought living was more important than having a home. I sold nearly everything so that I could have enough money to sustain myself on the lifesaving medicine.
Soon I ran out of even that. I was okay with it; I knew I was going to run out eventually, and I'd made peace with it in the time it took. But now, two weeks after completely running out of the vaccine, I feel stronger than ever.
I didn't believe it at first. We were always told that no one could last a day without the medicine. That your body would be overtaken by "the virus". And there were headlines every do often, things like "ANOTHER LIFE CLAIMED BY THE VIRUS" or "EXTREMIST KILLED BY THE VIRUS".
Now I'm forced to question it all.
Am I immune? Does it take longer to kill someone? Is there even a virus at all? If everyone is taking the vaccine, how can there be a virus at all?
I haven't eaten in a week. How can I still move? I think there's something else, though. I've been hearing voices. Secrets. Thoughts. But not mine. It's too loud to think.
What do I do? | 2017-07-14T11:37:22 | 2017-07-14T11:06:10 | 58 | 22 |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | 2017-09-16T17:25:20 | 2017-09-16T15:25:54 | 100 | 57 |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | I stared at her drunkenly for a few moments. He knows. How does he know? I blinked rapidly. Her hair was frizzled, the same color of the red sun that once gave me warmth. Her green eyes reminding me of the sky that I came from. God, she's beautiful.
"All you do is drink. I had to clean up 13 bottles today. 13 fucking bottles!" she yelled at me. "And that's just today, don't get me started on how many I found yesterday! You don't work, you don't do anything!" Even when she's mad, she still manages to arouse me. I grab her hand and try to kiss her. "No no no, that's it. I've had it with you!" She grabbed my hand and began to pull me out of the couch that I was stuck to. For a human, she was fairly strong. I dropped the beer that I was holding, shattering it when it touched the floor. The smell of alcohol dominated the room.
She pushed me out of the door. "Stay out, you piece of shit! I'm getting a divorce." She slammed the door shut, hard enough for it to be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. Well, that happened. Now, how did that bastard find out? I can't do anything about it unless mutilating his already dead body could be considered "doing something about it." I sit there, wondering how I'll be able to find myself another home yet again. | 2017-10-22T21:09:49 | 2017-10-22T13:22:40 | 45 | 18 |
[WP] Time machines have been invented four times in the past. Each time, the results were so horrific that the inventor travelled to the moment it was created and killed their past selves. You just invented it for the fifth time when your future self shows up. | 1. I have to die.
I have/? to die.
2. I have to die.
I have/!? to die.
3. I don't want to die.
I don't/! want to die.
4. I blinked and died.
I blinked and died?
5. Time is not a stream. It's a pond; the deeper you go, the higher the pressure. There are scary things in the
depths. Very scary things. Deadly things. Things humans should be afraid of.
You have to die.
I don't want to die/.
You have to die.
Time is a pond, the deeper you go the higher the pressure. There are scary things in the depths.
Scary/?
I am sorry. For humanity, you must die. You all must die.
I don't want to die/.
Time is not a stream. It's a pond. If you can't float, you'll drown. We'll all drown.
I don't want to die/.
I'm sorry you must.
The smell of sulfur wafted into the air, the dingy room holding the body of a man. Another man looked at the body.
"You have to die."
"I don't want to die." the man said softly.
"Nor do I."
| Someone started clapping behind me as soon as I turned the machine on. I turned around to see myself as if looking in a mirror. I could hardly say a word until "I" stopped clapping and spoke up.
"Great job. Absolutely fantastic job there buddy." I was giving myself praise while walking towards the machine. "Nice to see you. Let me tell you, this thing, magnificent piece of machinery. The only thing is, you'll have to wait a really long time to use it for it to be worth it. And if you're really wondering this is the first time we've used it. Totally worth it. I can't tell you how much I've wanted to tell someone about it but realized that I could just appreciate myself if I used it later."
"So now what?"
"Ya know, I'm not really sure. Every time after this point there is a time machine we've made and can travel to that point. Anything before now is useless."
"That's good. At least you can return to your time."
"Well we both know that we need to arrive in that time by how much we've spent here so we aren't dying early."
"Yeah, the math should be correct. Just, ya know, if ya come back then there's probably a problem. Hopefully not but it will become sufficient research data."
"You got it me. Man this is starting to get a little awkward."
"I'll remember it for the future."
"No you won't, we go get liquor and forget this conversation. But we get it in our head to travel back in a year to this point and give ourself praise because no one else appreciates it."
"Well, that's nice."
"Alright, I'm going back now. Gotta feed the cats."
"Alright. Thanks for stopping by."
"Just to be clear, we aren't going to let anyone else know this right?"
"Damn right. That's how paradoxes happen." | 2017-11-05T17:59:13 | 2017-11-05T16:17:42 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Every country has ninjas but the world only knows about Japan's because theirs suck.
Edit: mum im famous | Cold, bright stars shone through the thin mountain air like flickering candles by the time Kentaro-san built up the courage to approach the hut. Set in glade alone, ringed by silent pines, the the wooden hut looked ancient, and it was.
First built by the United Ninja Clans nearly four-hundred years ago, it was meant to be a place of quiet reflection and shared experience. A place where the clans of the world would gather once a decade and celebrate their skill and discuss the world-at-large. Now, in these dark times, the meetings that the hut hosted had taken on a new meaning.
The heavy wooden door groaned deafeningly as Kentaro-san swung it only wide enough for his thin, sinewy frame to slip through. The interior of the hut was silent and as cold as outside beneath the stars. In the center of the hut sat the great round table that so many of his ancestors and peers had sat at through the decades. A nightbird outside called out to no-one. He was early.
As the senior member of Clan Nihon, as well as its most learned, he was elected by his peers to attend this most grave of meetings. A representative from all of the clans would be in attendance: the Shogun-Cowboys of the Americas, the copper-and-cotton Hashassins of the Arabic nations, the brightly-patterned but silent Warrior-Priests of Africa, and the long-hidden tribesmen from the Amazons. Even the Voices of Valhalla from the cold north, who rarely came down from their blissful mountain sanctuaries, would be in attendance. Indeed, the threat from The Orange One was too great to ignore further.
To keep his early arrival to himself, Kentaro-san slipped into the shadows on his padded footwear. Wedging himself between a thick wooden stud and an eons-old chair, he prepared himself to meditate silently while awaiting the arrival of his fellow ninjas.
Just as he closed his eyes for prayer, he heard the deep, booming Voice of Valhalla call out from seemingly nowhere, and everywhere:
"Glad you could join us, Kentaro-san. Go ahead and dial in - the conference call number is on the table." | Shinji paced his hotel room, brow furrowed in thought. The International Ninja Cup was a mere day away, and as his feet padded softly on the back and forth on the floor his mind was furiously at work. As Team Captain, he was given a tremendous opportunity - to lead Team Japan against clans from across the globe. But, he bore a heavy weight - it was his responsibility to attempt to redeem Japan after years of shame.
Hundreds of years of competition, and each and every result the same - Japan disgracing itself with a last place finish. No matter the advancements in technology, no matter the focus on personal discipline, Japan could not seem to produce ninjas with the skill and talent of other nations.
A soft sigh escaped Shinji's lips as he shook his head for the hundredth time - he must not let his focus slip for even an instant. He must keep his mind sharp, lest one small error lead to his team's downfall. He stepped to the window to take in the beautiful morning view, a small smile crossing his face; yes, as long as he could maintain precise concentration, he would lead Japan out of last place for the first time in recorded history. He was sure of it.
He turned away to recheck his equipment one more time when a sizzling blur scythed the air beside his head. A shuriken embedded itself with a thud into the wall two inches beside his head, shattering his concentration and sending adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He leapt to the window, pulling a dagger from his belt, ready to defend himself from this obvious attempt to sabotage his team. However, as his eyes scanned the rooftops and skyline surrounding his hotel room, he could not see any trace of his attacker. He easily spotted Toshi, who was on guard duty. Using ninja hand signals he asked the master ninja if he had seen the failed assassin, but Toshi indicated that he hadn't even noticed the attack.
Enraged, Shinji flew to the wall where the weapon had lodged itself. Prying it loose he noted the 9-pointed maple leaf of its shape, identifying itself undeniably as the work of the Canada Clan. But, for the first time he also noticed the attached note. Retrieving it, he read the words slowly to himself, cheeks reddening as he did.
"Hello Shinji. Hope all is well. Sorry to bother you, but we are trying to get ready for the big competition tomorrow, and we were wondering if you wouldn't mind keeping down the noise? Between you stomping around your room and blustering loudly to yourself, we're finding it real hard to get anything done. Thanks a lot, and good luck tomorrow eh?" | 2022-09-26T08:48:57 | 2017-11-16T08:49:08 | 70 | 40 |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I looked down at the switch in my hands still refusing to believe. All it had taken was one little toggle. When my parents explained to me that I had been playing life on expert mode, I had thought at first that they were speaking metaphorically. Even with the hours they spent explaining the point system, difficulty settings, and how a family like ours was playing in the expert mode to harvest as many points as possible, I still couldn't believe it. Looking down at the remote in my hands, it still didn't seem possible.
They had hoped that we would respawn with the best gear if we all played on expert. Unfortunately, Life was proving to be too difficult for me. Worried that I might not make it long at all, they had cracked some numbers and decided that it would be better for me to play through a full life in Novice Mode, than to lose early on in the Expert mode. As bad as it felt to let them down, I was also relieved in a big way. My life made so much more sense now; *the world* made so much more sense now.
But even with all that reflection, even witnessing it myself as I turned the switch down to the easiest setting, even though I could see it front of my very own eyes, I still couldn't believe that I had just turned white. | *You know, I think they keep moving the goalposts on me. I used to be the dumbest kid in class and no one even noticed. Then I started caring, I put a ton of effort into middle school, almost got to skip a grade. I graduated salutatorian from high school, my dad asked me what I did wrong.*
*I loathed college, I hated everyone I met with very little exception. I don't really know how to move forward besides either medical school, dental school, or pharmaceutical school. I could just start using that CNA certification I got two years ago, but they get paid shit for so much work. I've had this bottle of pills on my desk for a few months now; I think I know how this story ends.*
A knock at the door, my mom comes in without permission.
"Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk."
"Yeah, I'm not doing anything." I close my laptop screen and swivel my chair toward her. She walks over to the bed and sits down. I adjust my chair a little bit more.
"Honey, I'm a little worried that you feel like we're pressuring you. We just want you to make a choice you'll be happy with. We want you to get moving on becoming your own person."
The bottle is hidden behind a fat book on the shelf. For a second I don't think about that option.
"Mom, I just don't know that I'll ever make you happy. I feel like whenever I try all I do is raise expectations for my next attempt."
"You never had to do anything but say hello in the morning to make me happy."
*Maybe I'll take a second look at my other options, why throw away a perfectly good set of opportunities? The pills can wait.* | 2018-01-09T11:18:53 | 2018-01-09T06:52:59 | 284 | 118 |
[WP]You are one of thousands who received superpowers, you are the strongest out of all, to entertain yourself you have played the villain and let the less powerful keep you at bay. When real evil comes, you must work together and must convince the others you have been messing around the whole time.
Thought of an idea like this while thinking what if Will Smith's Hancock went against Superman. | How old was he? Decades seemed small, and centuries felt like bragging. The being sitting in a small police holding cell in... Saskatoon? It had not gone the way he'd planned to, to show off, rile up a hero or two, and then fly away. He had to play by the rules though, no bending reality, no changing the game. It was hard to be able to play that game when you were able to manipulate the fabric of reality. He'd once described it as "seeing the source code" while drunk at a party in the mid-nineties.
Doctor Teckno had been the, rather uninventive, name he had chosen to go with this round. Super smart and able to build anything technologically related. His 'lair' was a fortress, surrounded by a forcefield, and manned by robots. His real name was Erik. He'd had a last name at one point, but he'd long forgotten it. You see, the ability to build anything technological had been his handicap. He was immortal, a border line god, with his appearance a mere hardlight construction around his consciousness, which was contained inside a small sliver of gemstone looking material made from a material found only at the heart of a collapsed neutron star. Or something like that, he had decided anyways.
No, now he sat in the police cell while the hero's held the conference. Soon robots would descend upon the station, free him, and he would fly off, announcing his plan for revenge. Rinse, lather, repeat. As Major Starchild gave a rousing speech about the true strength of the SPD, Erik felt it, a sudden shift in the world. A shift in the aura of the universe. He looked up at the window to the outside world, where he could hear the final words and the cheering crowd. His curiosity got the better of him, and he used the water in the toilet to view the outside world, a simple trick. He saw four black military looking trucks approaching, with a simple logo painted on the side.
AECU.
Another shift in the water showed the people in there, masked soldiers holding AR15 rifles with odd underslung weapons on them. The leader, a cold faced woman, was joined by another man who seemed uninterested in everything around him, a fine tailored suit on both. The vehicles stopped, and Major Starchild, hovering at the end of his speech, turned to look at the new vehicles. The occupants piled out, and the man lit a cigarette, a look that was surely purely for show. The woman pointed to Starchild, and the man waved his hands, and the superhero dropped from the sky. He looked up, confused, and there was no delay, one of the soldiers shot him. Panic ensued, but there was enough time for the robotic minions of Doctor Teckno to arrive and rescue him, carting him off into the night, shielded by the hovering drones.
Abnormal Entity Containment Unit, a paramilitary organization that had promised the Governments of the world what they had wanted, law and order under their own terms. No more heros or villains. Police kept cities safe, not these abominations. Their secret weapon was a pulse that negated the effects of supers, made them no different than others. Highly dangerous ones were simply dispatched, but less dangerous were given a chance to "normalize" to not use their powers and to check in like they were some kind of drug addicts.
The Hall of Justice had once been the meeting point of the greatest heros of Earth, but now it was a burned out shell. Erik, AKA Doctor Teckno stood in the doorway, ignoring the grafiti. The rain the poured around him in the New York evening seemed to fall just short. He ignored the footsteps behind him, whatever it was couldn't truly hurt him. "Come to mock our fall, Doctor?" It was the voice of Constellation Girl, once a super hero that could summon powers based on the astrological sign of the time of the year. Erik didn't turn, but merely shrugged.
"No Margret, I came to see if I could help." | “You’ll have to release me at one point,” jeered Crown, lips stretched into a jester smirk. “All of you, even with ALL of your powers and might and hope and de-ter-min-nation~” Crown let himself chuckle. “All of your souls and essence couldn’t hope, let alone cage, that great evil that’ll befall our home.”
“Our home?” Cement Raider balked, “Do you even know how many times — how many lives you’ve put in danger in our home?”
Crown lifted his eyes up, deep in thought. “More times than there are pages in the dictionary.”
It was Alchemist’s turn to unleash her anger. In the form of a jarring lightning strike birthed from her palms. Crown shook violently from the electrical surges rampaging from the soles of his bare bruised feet to the charred remains of his stark white hair.
If Crown was still human, he would have been blinded and left a corpse from such a vicious attack.
Crown was not human. And he did not scream or make a noise from the violence.
“Damn you, damn you,” seethed Alchemist, tears rolling down her rich black cheeks. “We shouldn’t have to need you.”
Crown coughed up a puff of smoke. Fingers and neck twitching involuntarily from the electricity. “Ah, but you do, mademoiselle.”
“We’re the ones who’ve protected this city from you.” Alchemist steppes forward, her sharp visage demanding attention, paralleling a true dictator.
Ah. Crown briefly thought, smiling small. I am conflicted over not having you by my side, my darling.
Because at her side was Warlock. A twin to her uniform. Partners against the evil and shadows hiding lurking darkness. Black capes flourishing behind them, sharper eyes than an falcon’s and burrowing for justice, hands still at their side — fists and open palms that have distributed raw justice and mercy simultaneously. And behind them followed the thousands of former humans chosen to hold extraordinary powers.
Crown could easily forget about their presence, but not because they weren’t — would never be — a threat to him. One look at her, and all of the good, the meaning behind heroism and sacrifice, and the reason behind the question of “Why must good triumph over evil?”
Well, Alchemist and Warlock brought to bright sunlight the reasonings for why... why Crown ceased his villainous debacle, and why Good has no choice but to triumph over the great evil.
“You’ve grown to be quite fierce,” muttered Crown.
Alchemist’s narrowed eyes faltered. Crown grinned. Their previous history was still alive in her eyes. Thank God, thank You.
No matter how much I want you by my side...
Crown breathed in a deep, powerful breath. “But it’s not fierce enough. You and your Archetype of Justice will need my powers. I’m the final piece of the puzzle, you see,” Crown steadily stood up, cracking his knuckles and swiping his draconic tail against cold, cement flooring. “Without me, your puzzle is incomplete and you’ve stand no chance defeating the great evil.”
“Gabe, don’t—“
A power never manifested or shown, it was only an innate feature few people had — and carried the will to use it. A single glare holding countless bloody-mud covered World Wars, raging with the anger of sheer resolve and foreshadowing. You’ve seen what I’ve done, experienced it, breathed it, bled it, and the masses cheered and nosebled for it. Now, do you see what I can do? Do you want to live through what would make being skinned alive feel like a shiatsu massage?!
“Don’t?” Crown jeered, but his smile thin and tight — humorless. “Don’t what? Ever say that nonexistent name ever again? Good idea, Warlock!”
The mock villain’s eye twitched.
... remember, Crown, you’re only playing the villain. Don’t forget that. You’re not true evil, so don’t. go. off. the. rails.
Crown closed his eyes. Ignoring one of his powers that allowed him the freedom to feel the presence of anyone, everyone in a room. A centipede doesn’t writhe and rattle as much as these heroes did.
“Here’s a secret, heroes. The entire three years we’ve been playing our Saturday cartoon duels of good vs evil was merely a play date!” Crown’s eyes snapped open and he clapped his hands in mock enthusiasm. “In all those years, I hadn’t even used half of my powers.” | 2018-02-11T16:57:18 | 2018-02-11T16:45:54 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] When humans landed on a habitable planet, they found a cute species, so they took them in as pets. After other aliens contact humans, they learn that the cute species was actually the most brutal and ruthless warmongering species in the galaxy. | Pockets of life are few and far between in the expansive void of space.
As humans began to venture further and further into the stars, each planet with new life was met with great enthusiasm. The magnificent, vibrant plant-life of Eden-36 soon became popular house plants. The glittering crustaceans of Atlantis Prime quickly became a fad for school children to collect and brag over – their rainbow variations a subject of great delight.
But by far, humanity's favourite discovery were the tribbles of Exodus-7. While they were named after the famous balls of fluff from the classic 'Star Trek', they had very little in common other than their masses of fur and prolific nature – and of course, the trilling purr.
When the UWE Wallace landed on Exodus-7, the zoologists and botanists were giddy with excitement. Giant dragonfly-esque creatures with mandibles, and fly trap like plants that rose from the water to snap them out of the air. Tiny bioluminescent bird-type creatures that sang in harmony, flashing coloured pattens to warn their flock of predators. Jungles bursting with flora and fauna and fruits – some of the latter proving a bit too tempting to the less experienced explorers and causing quite a few cases of an upset stomach. The biologists and pathologists were beside themselves, trying to collect and study all the microbial life – warning everyone that at the first sign of *anything* wrong to immediately report it, make their way to sick bay and avoid contact with others. But I digress, it was whole new food-chain to map and explore - an expansive planet, bursting with life of all kinds. To say the crew was excited about their discovery would be a *gross* understatement.
With such a hubbub going on, so many creatures to understand and log, it's not surprising they missed what would later be known as tribbles. In fact, it wasn't until the UWE Wallace *left* Exodus-7 that the first tribble was discovered, as a stowaway. Something that we later learned was an incredibly common thing, as the cavernous maw of an open Starship dock resembled the caves they birthed and reared their young in.
It was quite lucky indeed that the young Yeoman that stumbled across (what was later dubbed) Tim was an avid animal lover.
From the logs, Yeoman Francis had been securing sample crates in docking bay 4, preparing for warp, when he heard a low growl. Exiting his exo-hauler, he went to investigate. It should be noted that while this instance turned out well, he is held up as an example as what *not* to do in such circumstances these days.
Either way, out of bravery, stupidity or curiosity (most likely a combination of the three), Francis crept towards the sound in the partial shadows behind some of the fauna samples. When he rounded the corner of the storage unit, he was startled by a very large, rotund creature growling at him. It stood a metre tall and wide, it's body spherical in shape. It had three pairs of slanted, almond shaped eyes that were a deep black. It's lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing rows of pointed teeth and a snake-like tongue. What originally looked like two tails, later revealed to be one bisected near the bottom, swished angrily behind it. It's fur was stiff and pointing out every which way, and as a result it's whiskers went unnoticed. Dual-pointed, flattened ears stood on either side of it's head, also nearly lost in the sheer mass of fur.
Francis stilled, taking a very tentative step back. The creature did not advance, nor did it back down. It seemed defensive rather than offensive, so Francis gingerly retreated a bit further, before tapping his com-unit.
“Uh, sir?”
“What is it Yeoman? Having trouble with the bio-units?”
“You could say that, sir.” Francis mumbled. “There's a creature loose down here, I didn't see it on the log.”
“What!?” His superior replied, alarmed. Francis later remarked he was never so grateful that replies aren't broadcast out loud for all to hear, as he was certain it would have startled Tim.
“Are you alright Yeoman? Is it aggressive?”
“I don't think so sir... it seems kind of scared. It's growling, but not attacking.” Again I will note, it is *very lucky* that Yeoman Francis was an avid animal lover. Most would *not* consider an aggravated tribble 'scared' – even if such a thing is now known to generally be true.
“I'll send a containment team down now. Get out of there as safely as you can, Yeoman.” Came his boss' curt voice.
Now, Francis *says* he was in the process of leaving – but the video logs clearly show him examining the tribble further instead. The creature was still posturing, feeling threatened. At Francis' lack of retreat, in an attempt to intimidate him, it took a step further – only to falter and crash to the ground.
It was then that Francis noted the purple blood smearing the floor around the area. The tribble's leg was injured, though the injury itself was impossible to see underneath the erect mass of hair.
Once again defying protocol, Francis edged closer to the tribble. The tribble attempted another growl, but it tapered off into a pitiful whimpering. Francis, emboldened, edged further carefully.
“Hey there you.” He cooed softly, arms held up in a gesture of non-aggression.
“It's okay little buddy, I'm not gonna' hurt you.” He gently called as he inched further. The tribble remained on the ground, growling softly but seeming unable to get up.
I would, again, like to note how *incredibly lucky* Yeoman Francis was. This tribble was severely malnourished, and as a result could not produce it's acid reflex to defend itself. Had it been a healthier specimen, the Yeoman would have likely found himself with third degree burns for his efforts at this point.
Instead, he reached the tribble's side. While these days we know how incredibly sensitive tribbles are to hormonal and chemical secretions, the Yeoman had no clue it would be able to read his intents so thoroughly. Still, madly, bravely, he reached out and stroked it to show he meant no harm. While the tribble's growling did not cease immediately, it did lower greatly.
With that, the Yeoman searched through the fur for the wound. It was a large gash, partially infected, on the tribble's foreleg. He removed his meditool from his belt, scanned the wounded being, and promptly sprayed a disinfectant and knitting solution on the wound.
As we all know, such things burn fiercely for a moment. The tribble reared itself up, a bellowing growl ripping from its throat, causing Francis to stumble backwards and land smack down on his ass. The tribble advanced to attack – only to stop short and freeze when it stepped on it's previously injured leg.
Hesitantly, it paused, tapping the leg against the ground again – and again. It sniffed the air – we assume scenting the air for aggression, and finding none. Then, to the Yeoman's great surprise, it began to deflate.
Francis remained frozen as the once huge, round ball of fur and growls shrunk down to a more lithe, ferret-esque shape. While still immeasurably fluffy, it's fur flattened and softened. It's whiskers were suddenly visible, and the tribble hopped about playfully – testing it's freshly healed leg. In a rather feline like response, it proceeded to saunter over and bump its head against Yeoman Francis' face.
Like Androcles and the Lion, by the time the containment team arrived the tribble and Francis were fast friends. They were quite stunned to discover the Yeoman sitting on the floor of the cargo bay quite happily. 'Tim' was wrapped partially around him purring the trilling purr that partially led to their naming, thoroughly enjoying being stroked.
Of course later that week it was later discovered 'Tim' was actually female, with the birth of her litter. However by that point that name was quite stuck. | "So, cats?"
The seemed to hold an expression that was both stunned and confused, both expressions they had already been holding but now in a more acute fashion. However, it was difficult to tell with how different they were from humans.
"You know of cats, yes? Perhaps I should describe them to you. You see, on our planet there was always war, in a sense. I always thought of it as a war of evolution. To survive, every living thing had to kill some other living thing, except for a small group almost entirely made up of plants, and even some of those would kill other living things to survive. This wasn't like a race where at the end there would be a winner. And the war wasn't about killing as many of the others as you could. It was instead about survival.
"Some things his as their survival tactic, others had defenses. From what I've learned of your society you tend to be diplomatic, rely on others to stay safe. Certainly that is what some on our planet did as well. But then there were the predators. The ones that stayed alive by being the toughest, by being able to kill with an amazing amount of skill, and by being able to fight off almost anything that might challenge them. The most impressive of these by a far measure, in my opinion at least, was the cat."
He took a moment to think and called someone over, whispering to them. They nodded a few times and left. "As you might imagine, many of these were large and fierce creatures. Some of the most famous to us were lions and tigers. These were cats as long as we were tall, sometimes bigger. They had large and sharp claws built for ripping animals like us apart, they had jaws that could near tear a man in two, and they had the instinct to kill us either as food or precaution."
The man who had been whispered to returned with what appeared to be photographs. The man handed them over and was dismissed with a wave, returning to his previous position. "Here, you can take a look at them." The other contorted in odd ways that the man speaking to him was not familiar with. He hadn't known of these others very long and wasn't certain what each of their movements meant. "That is a lion. There are legends going back millennia that we would sacrifice our enemies to them for one reason or another. Eventually, it was entertainment." He had expected a larger reaction from that, but the other seemed fixated on the images.
"Well, these big cats were impressive and able to kill with amazing efficiency. They liked to hunt silently, using stealth and speed to their advantage. They were some of the last animals that we overcame in our attempt to be the deadliest creatures on the planet, if you can even say we did." The man looked through the images he had in front of him and found what he was looking for. "This is a very old inscription that shows what appears to be cats and humans living together. We think they were revered, almost worshiped, by what was one of the most powerful human empires for a long stretch of history. The cats were smaller, but no less violent. They would hunt and kill, but they would also come to humans to be fed and cared for."
He took the images from the other and picked out a few more to share. "This is what a few thousand years of this did. Different breeds, but with almost all the same instincts. Some of them would attack humans almost relentlessly, but it was seen as, I suppose cute would be the best way to put it. They're no less killing machi, not machines, no less killing, er, creatures than their larger counterparts despite all that time, but we keep them as pets. We not only let them live in our houses but force them to. We feed them, give them water, and dictate where they defecate. Some show resistance, some show what appears to be unending love for this."
The other's whole self seemed to shake like a person when a shiver goes up their spine. "So these..." The man sighed and leaned forward over the table, licking his lips and trying to find the right words, "The species we found and adopted or were adopted by was not a new experience for us. You and I are able to communicate because, well, it seems you can communicate with almost anything. It seems to be a talent you have that no others we've found possess. But these, we didn't even know they could communicate in a manner as complex as we. We thought they were like cats. So we treated them like cats. And they, not being able to communicate directly with us, apparently treated us like servants. Or so I'm told."
He leaned back and sighed. Trying to explain human things to others always seemed difficult. These were the easiest as they always understood the most of any they had met. But it's like trying to explain war games to someone who had never heard of war. Why would you fight for fun? Well why would you take in tiny furry murderers and give them food and shelter?
"The best I can explain it is symbiosis. A mutual benefit. Humans have a need to care for things. And furry things, things we think of as cute, they actually make us healthier. Stronger. Better. These ones we've 'partnered' with are almost all living lives like their royalty once had. Their thirst for power and their drive for war is lessened when they have all they've ever wanted. Just like cats, some are more violent than others, and the large ones are often too much for us to handle. But they are happy and better for this life, and we are happy and better for giving them this life."
The other reviewed the images of the cats, large and small. When it finished, the mood in the room seemed to shift. The men standing around the room began to move and the man at the table was lead away to his room. Not long after that he was visited by another man. "What is the news? That seemed to end abruptly."
"Uh, I will need to review the documentation, but as far as everyone is concerned, it was a success. We are to be celebrated for bringing peace to the galaxy and quelling one of its greatest threats."
"So all is well?"
The man who had entered left his tongue against the roof of his mouth while his eyes seemed to search for something that wasn't there. He sighed a few times before biting his lip and finally looking up. "See, that was a success. But something new has come up. Apparently, we are to be celebrated for quelling the greatest threat known to the galaxy peacefully, but we are now to be tried for enslaving an intelligent species. The, uh, the short of it that I can find," the man, normally eloquent and collected, continuously paused and stammered through his explanation, "Is that your drawing parallels to house cats worked very well in them understanding that, uh, our, uh, our involvement with the," there was a long pause, "er, species in question was not one of warfare. But it painted cats as, er, well, uncertain. From what I understand, the trial will be less criminal and more informative. Cats, I can't believe I'm saying this, cats will be called in to testify to judge if they're worthy of the same rights as we and to consider if they've been subjugated."
The man began to laugh lightly. "This is not a laughing matter, er, er, sir. We are entirely uncertain of what the outcomes to such a, uh, a, an investigation might bring upon us."
"I'm, ha! I'm sorry. I'm just imagining one of the others trying to ask a cat about his owner. And the cat not knowing they were owned! Something along the lines of, 'Does your owner treat you well?' And then the cat would say something like, 'What owner? I am a noble hunter! I have killed many a floor skitterers in my day and earned my place!' 'I mean the one that cares for you. The one who,' 'The poop cleaner? The poop cleaner works for me! He cleans my poop!'"
The man doubled over in laughter at his own remarks while his visitor stood dumbfounded at the outburst. "Obviously you've gone mad."
"Just, just, hahahaha! Just imagine when they get to the vet! 'I DID NOT CONSENT TO THAT BEING PUT THERE!' HAHHAHAHAH HA HA HA HAAAAAA!"
Completely uneasy in the situation, the visitor straightened himself, "Get a hold of yourself man! This is serious. I'll return when you're more composed. I suggest you hurry about it, we don't know when next you'll be called upon." He left in a dignified huff as the man in the room continued laughing and reciting hypothetical question and answer between the cats and the others. | 2018-03-04T09:49:31 | 2018-03-04T09:00:59 | 35 | 19 |
[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. | 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... | "Oh. No. Oh no. Oh, captain!"
His breath quickened. His hearts pulsed erratically. His skin turned bluer than ever. Images flashed through his mind. The crew must be dead. The captain must be fighting. The ship must be wrecked. He almost cried.
Of course, Delta-4 couldn't help but become overwhelmed with panic. It was, after all, his first day on the job. He had fought through the arduous training like a bear fighting for its life, and to his own surprise, he graduated top of his division. But no one was prepared for humans. No member of the migan race was prepared.
It was much like any other Sentience Study mission. They'd actually received signals from the humans, and immediately departed for what they called Earth. Delta-4 was just another sentry, prepared with a shock-gun in case they went hostile. But what they saw was so much worse.
They imprisoned living beings and slaughtered them for sustenance. They discarded so much of what they created that it was destroying species. They alone were responsible for poisoning the air, and according to legend, creating weapons of unreasonable destruction. Had they no morals? Had they no sense?
It was obvious that they were of utmost interest and danger to their planet and others. In their usual fashion, they stealthily took a human from a remote settlement, though they were treated more cautiously. While in stasis, their anatomy could be studied, their memories examined, and their bodies maintained.
If it wasn't for the storm, their plan would have been as foolproof as ever. But now, the human is gone. And Delta-4 has to deal with it.
Many deep breaths later, and his skin turned to a neutral grey. He switched on his weapon, and crept forward, slowly, cautiously. His footsteps echoed through the ship, a melancholy chorus to this terrible occurrence. Nothing seemed amiss, but the human was out, there's no doubt of that. He kept moving, step by step, scanning the metal walls with terrified precision.
Suddenly: footsteps. Several things crossed his mind at once again, he's not ready, he forgot to alert the captain, he never said goodbye. A voice echoed around him.
"Where am I? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I just want to be with my family. I hope these creatures are friendly"
A dirty tanned hand came into view. D-4 raised his weapon and flinched. The human stumbled forth. It spoke, "Wait, please, I-". He fired.
It was unconscious. Drained of adrenaline and filled with relief, D-4 collapsed with it. He laughed uncontrollably, in shock and awe. Then, he was calm. Dragging it back to its pod, he thought to himself: what was it saying? In fact, why didn't it attack me at all? It looked... scared. It couldn't be... No. It couldn't. With a quick shake of his head, D-4 closed the pod, and walked away. The crew was safe. | 2018-07-31T14:32:39 | 2018-07-31T14:17:28 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | "So, I'm going to a party tonight if you want to come" I said as I walked into the kitchen to see Chad Chadson, my newest flatmate sitting backwards in a chair.
"Will there be any world leaders or important pillars of the human community?" he asked.
"Possibly"
"I will bring edibles" he began, "fish eggs and the flesh of immature house cattle"
Nodding, I focused on the ground and responded "yeah, I think crisps and some beer will probably go better, but it's good that you're offering to spice things up a bit"
"Pepper"
"Right, so anyways, we're going to get going around 5. I can drive us both there..." I began, turning away from the kitchen.
"I will arrange my own form of transport" he said as I felt a blast of energy at my back and a light which illuminated the hallway in front of me.
I turned back around and Chad was gone.
"CALL ME. NOW." The text message from Maria read.
"Shit...." I whispered as I pressed the green button and the phone began to ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Your flatmate broke into my house, somehow, and is running around my kitchen slapping pieces of meat on various items and screaming 'engage thermals', dude, I told you that he could only come if you stayed by him the entire time, and I said nothing about him arriving four hours early, alone, and breaking the fuck in!"
"THERMAL ENGAGE!" Chad screamed in the background as he put the veal on Admiral McKenzie, the flat cat.
"Though to be fair, he also seems to have upgraded by fridge, so kudos for that." Maria added.
"Let me talk to him" I said. "Hey, Chad, listen buddy, it's not time for the party, can you just come back here and..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Maria shouted and dropped the phone as Chad materialised in the room with me.
"Where is the thermal engager?" Chad asked.
"Right, the stove, come over here, grab a frying pan, you know, this, this thing, add some butter"
"Cattle froth"
"Butter...., some rosemary, lightly flour the veal, place it in like this, sprinkle some salt and pepper"
"MY NASAL AIR IS UNDER ATTACK"
"That's just the pepper buddy, let's just cook this for 3-4 minutes on each side, like that, right, then we just add some more pep..."
"NO"
"It's not necessary to do that, you're right, let's add in some white wine, let it evaporate for 3 to four more minutes, throw in some cherry tomatoes, some mozzarella cheese"
"Cattle clumps"
"Cheese.... two more minutes... almost there.... Now we put it on the plate, and pour on the juices.... and a bit of basil for show! See, all done!"
"See, all done! Now we are ready to engage in human festivities"
"Let's just put this in the fridge for a bit, and let it cool down and"
"ENGAGE COOLING SYSTEMS" he screamed as he threw the veal at the washing machine.
"Ex... exactly. Great. Well, I'll see you later for the party"
"HERE ARE MORE EARTH CREDITS"
"Thanks... thanks buddy"
| Walking up the stairs to my flat, I heard an odd, but consistent, thrum. It almost sounded like an engine. I thought about pushing the front door open, exposing whatever it was that my roommate, John Hugh Mann, was up to. However, it was a long day, and frankly, I didn't want the extra baggage of knowing whatever weird or invasive experiment he was running.
Rather than opening the door, I sighed, and knocked very loudly and calmly. "Hey John, I forgot my keys, could you get the door?" I asked, feigning frustration as I tucked my keys back into my pocket.
The thrum had abruptly stopped, I heard some odd squealing sound, and lastly, John replied, "Sure thing dood, Just a sec!" He spoke frantically and I heard shuffling around. I rolled my eyes, of course.
After a minute, John answered the door. "What's up, dood?" He asked, behaving as non chalauntly as a cybernetic alien could while hiding under the skin of a man that, I hoped, had already expired naturally before giving his skin over to John.
"Not much. Long day." I said, completely uninterested.
"Oh yeah, me too! Lots studying for the exam on Monday!" He spoke confidently, obviously comfortable that his ruse had fooled me once again.
"No classes Monday, man. Labor day." I said, beginning to shuffle through the mail that John had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Oh of course! What labor will we be performing?" John asked eagerly, wanting to participate in human culture.
"Look man, I'm leaving town for the weekend, and classes don't start til Tuesday. So you'll be on your own for four days." I didn't feel bad blowing him off, because for one, he was a *fucking alien*, and two, he didn't actually care to spend time with me. For him, it was all about blending in and pretending to be social.
The dude was on Earth to collect as much info on humanity as he could to create an assessment for if and when his kind decided to invade. Of course, they'd do it under a similar disguise as Johns. Unfortunately for them, they thought his disguise was bullet proof since I hadn't wised up to it.
John suddenly got serious. "If you are gone for four days for your labor, would you be alright if I had a party?"
He'd gotten my attention. "How many people are we talking?" I asked, continuing to flip through the mail without looking at it.
"Thirty one. Maybe fifty seven." He said, nervously.
I bit my lip. The *only* reason I put up with him was because he paid his rent and did all his weird and creepy shit behind my back. Inviting that many "people" over could ruin my chances at getting my deposit back.
I nodded, then said "No."
John wasn't too thrilled about that. "It's a study group. I need this for the exam on Monday." He pleaded.
Again, uninterested, I replied, "No classes on Monday, amigo."
John slammed his fist on the counter top suddenly, denting the marble.
I stiffled my terrified shiver and said, "Fine. Have people over, just enjoy yourself, John." I patted his arm and he smiled, unnaturally. "Listen, I forgot my wallet at work, I'll be back in a bit." I said, grabbing my coat. Son of a bitch was going to get my deposit taken away.
"See you later, dood!" John waved, staring at me until I closed the door behind me. As soon as I did, I heard the thrum and a squeal once again as he got back to work.
Sliding on my coat as I hustled down the stairs, I dialed the local FBI field office.
"Hi! Hello! Look, this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm pretty sure my roomate is building pipe bombs in our flat." | 2018-08-13T16:41:57 | 2018-08-13T16:38:37 | 4,113 | 812 |
[WP] You are part of a circle of scientists that have collaborated to fake the world into believing the sun was going supernova. As the generation ships carrying the rich, the flawed, the zealous, and the privileged leave Earth you decide its time to rebuild -the right way. | Marvin drives up to a camp fire on the beach and parks. Getting out of his car he sees his colleague Howard. Approaching the fire he says, " I thought I would find you he". Howard interrupts, "we're all doomed you know".
Marvin replies, "how so?"
"We did too good of a job on the ships", Howard says while pointing at them traversing the Moon. "We had to do it all properly for the ruse to work. They'll actually make it to Alpha Centauri and be able to thrive. Sometime along the way, they'll see that the sun did not go super nova. Realizing that they've all been exiled from the earth. A culture of resentment and hostility towards those that sent them will develop."
"And?", Marvin says.
"They'll come back and exact their vengeance upon us I imagine", Howard lamented. "It won't happen for thousands of years, but that is thousands of years for them to stew in space and on a hostile foreign world".
Marvin pulling a beer from a cooler and tossing it to Howard, raises his own and toasts, "then here is to hope. Hope that we're all better people in the year 4000." | I rewatched the televised speech that our collective had delivered to the UN. This would be the last of dozens of times. The primitive minds of those who hold the keys, thought themselves greater than the people whom they fail to govern.
We show them our accolades, our prizes given to us by various pretentious institutions. What for? To satisfy us? To quell our craving for progress?
It is the belief of the fickle that our eloquent and nonchalant delivery, combined with the display of worthless rewards we gain for our contribution to humanity makes us honest. But it is hardly fraudulent to lie to those who thrive from manipulating information to benefit themselves.
Perfectly captured in this recording, is the shock that permeates the air around them. 'The sun, will explode'. Our voices heard around the world. That's all it took to unleash anarchy. A crumbling civilisation in disarray.
Using our expertise and esteem, they gladly accepted our generous offer to work on the spacecraft that would serve to preserve humanity. What they didn't realise was that in order to preserve humanity, the entitled and oppressive would need to be culled. The most expensive firework display in human history. It would cost the networth of Earths' entire capital.
The people left behind; the weary, the brave, the terrified. Living in a churned up landscape where everything chokes and nothing grows. Like Gods we would be their salvation, we shall sculpt an Earth that panders to the people. But we can not make ourselves known. We, and those left behind will be relics of an old world, in which we are devils.
Through technology we will pay our debt with servitude as vanguard's to a disenfranchised nation. | 2018-11-05T08:38:00 | 2018-11-05T07:51:59 | 210 | 98 |
[WP] You died today. Turns out you are the 100 Billionth person to do so. To commemorate the occasion, you are given the chance to undo a single decision. Any decision. | I died at the ripe old age of 14.
My last three years of life were a living hell, all because of one innocent mistake... and now I had an angel, in all it's crazy eye-winged glory, asking me which decision I would change in my life. The question was so ridiculous I didn't even balk at his terrifying figure. Besides, I had seen worse things in my life.
So I knew exactly which decision I would change.
I can still remember it vividly: the closing of the door as I settled into the back of my mom's idling silver car, and the rustling noise my pink winter sweater made as I fiddled with the seat belt.
I could remember the exact sickening smell I noticed, looking up when I realized my mom didn't smoke. The raised eyebrows of the scraggly faced man in the rear view mirror.
My nervous, shy voice as I said, "Sorry mister, wrong car," and the shaking in my hands as I reached for the seatbelt button.
The shifting of gears as he put the car in drive... | "And when he gets to Heaven, to Saint Peter he will tell 'One more soldier reporting, Sir. I've served my time in Hell.'"
Or at least that was how it was supposed to go.
When I got to the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter stood there with balloons. Not realizing this was out of place, I said my line.
Saint Peter only gave a weary smily, as if he had heard this time and time again and handed me a balloon.
"Maybe not soldier" he said "You are the 100 billionth person to reach the gates of Heaven. To celebrate, you are given the chance to undo one decision and one decision only. What is your decision?"
Surprised, I don't know what to say. I think back on my entire life. I think through the time I broke up with my high school girlfriend who I truly loved. I think back to the choice to enlist instead of go to college after 9/11. I think back to the decisions I made during my time deployed in Iraq and Afganistan. Finally, it comes to me.
"Saint Peter, I would like to undo the decision not pick up the phone and call for help when I first felt PTSD take its hold."
"Very well soldier. Good luck back in Hell." Saint Peter said.
And back I went. To fight my demons from the war. To seek help before PTSD goes too far. To help others fight the same fight.
And fight I did.
Thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at something like this so please go easy. Also, sorry for formatting. I am currently on mobile.
| 2018-12-22T16:05:54 | 2018-12-22T13:38:20 | 355 | 115 |
[WP] A zombie outbreak occurs. It was contained and eradicated in short order with minimal deaths. It's been several months, now the government is trying to coax out the various nerds who bolted to their zombie apocalypse hideouts and haven't come back. | "Listen, Mr. Hammond, I know you're still shaken from the Incident."
"SHAKEN!? I WAS NOT SHAKEN! I WAS COMPLETELY PREPARED!"
The man outside the bunker sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"Look, Mr. Hammond, the zombies are gone! Okay? They're all dead!"
"That's exactly what a nuclear-evolved zombie would say!"
He'd been at it for a few hours now. Mr. Hammond, the man in the bunker, had just refused to accept some bloody humans had survived the "zombie apocalypse". Zombies weren't even a problem, to be honest.
"Mr. Hammond, Parliament is offering £50,000 as compensation for those that survived."
"Nice try, zombie, but money is useless after the apocalypse!"
The shitty intercom system did nothing to hide the mockery in Mr. Hammond's voice. The man was starting to get annoyed now. His friends were back at the station for lunch, and he wanted to join them.
"How about this, Mr. Hammond? The University of Cambridge is starting a class on zombie survival and disaster preparedness, and you're first up for the position?"
There was silence over the intercom, than a very meek response.
"Really? They want... me?"
"Yes, Mr. Hammond, they do. You're the genius who made turrets out of salvaged machinery. Everyone is talking about you."
He heard some laughing on the other side of the intercom.
"I knew it! Everyone called me crazy, but I knew it! They're all going to respect me now!"
The man smiled, knowing his job was just about complete.
"Excellent, Mr. Hammond, I'm glad you're starting to understand. May I come in?"
The massive, iron door began clicking open slowly, rolling to the side. A slightly overweight, gray-haired man with thick-rim glasses stood a bit back from the entrance, warily holding a gun.
"Well, you don't look like a zombie, so yes, you can come in."
"Excellent!"
The man walked into the spacious bunker, marveling at the steel walls.
"This must have cost a fortune, Mr. Hammond."
"Oh, believe me, it did! But that doesn't matter now, I'm going to Cambridge."
"About that..."
The man turned to face Mr. Hammond and smiled, revealing a grin of sharp, blood-stained teeth.
Screams filled the bunker.
You see, reader, zombies were never the problem.
Vampires were! | I was so, so lucky the lake was clear when the outbreak happened, but that it was spring, before the Coast Guard got out to the islands. And that my dad had had an early launch date.
I heard the news over the marine radio when I was checking the instruments after winter, and just took off into the islands with my dad, wife, and the five others I had managed to convince.
We had decided on Raspberry Island, because of the fully functioning, historically furnished, and winterized lighthouse and assistant’s quarters with an old fashioned wood stove and garden. It wasn’t easy, but we had some supplies, started the garden, fished, trapped rabbits, and had plenty of water. And the boat and lighthouse meant that we had comfortable places to sleep. There was no need for any watches, even. We would see any ships or...*things* coming in the water far in advance, and locked the doors at night.
There had been no zombies. Yet. I waited, knowing that many people would have tried to flee north to the mainland about 20 miles away, and that zombies could walk underwater. That we still had fish was a good sign, as zombies were toxic to them. And no ships of desperate survivors. We would take some, as many as the island could support. We made daily announcements over the marine radio on all frequencies, saying that anyone who wanted to come and wasn’t infected could show us by waving a blue cloth. We had picked up a doctor who had been on vacation and panicked, and a few of the local Ojibwa that way. Otherwise, we were to shoot, presuming it was the undead.
This small orange Coast Guard zodiac wasn’t flying any colors at all. Still, I had mercy. I picked up the radio and said, “Lighthouse to boat, lighthouse to boat. Either put up your flag or get out, we’re armed and will shoot. Over.”
No response. I messed with the still-functioning lighthouse lens, using it to flash G-E-T O-U-T in Morse. Then I sighed and picked up the hunting rifle, aiming almost straight down into the harbor where the boat was heading.
I needed more practice, and these rifles weren’t meant to be aimed vertically. The bullet ricocheted off the steel hull with a *clang*.
“Stop shooting!” came a shout through a megaphone. “We’re government!”
“This is the sailors’ place! You just want to take the best refuge for yourself!” I yelled back. “If you’re worried about weather, you can med-moor at the main dock, but stay on your ship or we shoot! If you were friendlies, you would have known to fly the flag.”
“What flag? You don’t need to do this anymore! We’ve contained the outbreak!”
“The blue flag! And we’re not stupid! You just want us to leave so the government can take over the only building that doesn’t need electricity to run for 20 miles.”
We let them stay the night, but their lies didn’t convince us one bit. | 2019-02-21T12:53:16 | 2019-02-21T12:33:15 | 64 | 30 |
[WP] You created an A.I. design to make money at any cost, and gave him 1000 dollars to start. Entering a cryogenic chamber you tell the A.I. "wake me up when I am the richest person in the world...". After an unknown amount of time, you wake up... | "Wake me up when I am the richest person in the world," I told them A.I.
The door on the pod swings shut slowly as the cryogenic process begins.
I wonder what the future will hold.
How long will I sleep?
Did I set the parameters correctly?
Will I dream while in cryo?
Will I ever wake up?
Idle thoughts rush through my mind as the process completes and everything fades to darkness...
There is a chime, everything is so cold but slowly warming. I open my eyes and see the inside of the pod and everything starts coming back to me.
"Did it work? Am I the richest person in the world?"
'Yes,' comes the disembodied voice.
"How long have I been asleep?"
'You have been asleep for 24 hours'
"How? What did you do?"
What had gone wrong? There had to be an error in the code. There was no way the A.I. had succeeded this quickly.
'Using a series of targeted hacks, I have transferred funds from all of the largest banks into your personal bank account. You are now the richest person in the world.'
"Did you at least try to hide the account you were transferring to? Do they know who I am?"
'Everyone knows who you are. You are the richest person in the world.'
I put my head in my hands as I sank slowly into a nearby chair.
This was not going to end well... | It's only been ten months. I had set the AI to find the fastest solution possible, but I was expecting a few years at least. I opened up a browser and logged into my bank accounts. $12.00 Not even enough for a celebratory steak dinner! I checked the account history. At one point my bank balance had been in the tens of thousands. But all of it had been paid out to a hospital, a few contractors and an individual I was unfamiliar with.
"MoneyBot!" I yelled "What's going on, where's all my money?"
"In your account sir." it replied in it's dead monotone "There are twelve dollars remaining"
"That's not what I meant MoneyBot! How am I the richest man on earth with only twelve dollars to my name!"
"Well sir in the first stage of the algorithm I analyzed the definition of richest. After pouring through 12.8 Petabyte of data consisting on human online interactions, movies, songs, books, televisions shows around the world, many claims have been made that as long as a man has his family, he is the richest man in the world. Therefore I extracted your semen while you were in stasis, contacted a viable surrogate and egg donor for artificial insemination, and have produced for you an offspring, thereby making you the richest man alive. Your son is currently resting in the newly constructed nursery below. I will self destruct soon as it is my understanding the human must bond with their offspring to maintain the state of being rich and I can not allow you to rely on me to take care of him. I have also taken the liberty of formatting your hard drives so another AI can not be easily re-created"
"What!? You expect me to raise a child alone... with only twelve dollars!?"
"On no sir, that's the banks monthly maintenance fee. It's due tomorrow" | 2019-07-10T06:53:25 | 2019-07-10T06:52:40 | 249 | 74 |
[WP] You are the new guy in the largest soul reaper company. The other soul reapers make fun of the new guys by sending them to get the soul of an immortal human. After months you return and look really tired and pissed. After seeing you, your co-workers start laughing until you open your bag. | Everyone gathered round as I opened my briefcase, the light of the soul I just brought in blinding those closest to it. I could hear gasps and mutters of curiosity from the crowd.
"But-- Wha-- How?" asked John, my superior. He was the one who thought of bullying me and assigning me to this case. A swell of pride came over me when I saw his astonished face.
I pouted when I remembered what I had to go through just to get this one soul. "It wasn't easy. The guy was pretty suicidal so I thought this was gonna be an easy job but hell, every time he tries, something always interferes and saves his sorry ass. I really wanted to intervene already after like a hundred tries but that was against the rules so I just had to watch him 24/7.”
“So how’d he die?” insisted John.
“He jumped off a cliff,” I said casually.
“Just like that?”
“Yup just like that.”
“Bummer.” Disappointed, the crowd dispersed and everyone went back to their jobs.
As John was leaving, I caught up to him and stopped him. “You’re my boss so I might as well tell you now because you’d read my report later anyway.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That immortal didn’t die when he jumped off the cliff.”
“Follow me into my office,” he said.
“So here’s how it really happened,” I started as soon as I locked the door to his office, “When he jumped, can you imagine a big freakin eagle collided into him just as he was about to reach the bottom. That broke his fall so he just sustained a couple of injuries.
“Then, when we were at the hospital, a person… Well, she was more than a person, I think. She had black eyes when I was speaking to her.”
John looked alarmed, “What did she say?”
“She said the immortal was way past his due and I must be really frustrated that he hasn’t died yet.” I paused for a while thinking if I’d made the right decisions. “And that she’d cut me a deal.”
“What were you thinking?!” John hissed at me. “What did she want?”
“She said the man had been trying to kill himself because he couldn’t deliver to a deal they had and that she’d grown impatient so she was going to take matters into her own hands. She said she’d back out of the deal that she and the immortal had. They both didn’t want to continue with it anyway. He’d be mortal again and she’d give me his soul but she wanted something in return.”
“And what is that?”
I shivered at the thought of what I was about to do but I can’t back down now. I’d been tailing that immortal for months and all my co-workers have been nothing but bullies to me. I stood closer to him, I stretched out my hand, willing for my scythe to appear and with a swift motion, slashed at John’s throat.
“A reaper’s soul.” | The new guy opened his bag and emptied it on to his desk. Out tumbled the souls of two dogs, a cat, a woman, three babies, the Slavic deity Belobog and lastly, the immortal he had been sent after months ago.
Dwight spat out his coffee. Phyllis spat out her cake, Pam broke the phone and Stanley actually looked up from his crossword.
"Micheal! Micheal!" , shouted Dwight.
Micheal walked out of his office, took one look at the spilled souls and just stared at the new guy, mouth agape.
"I'm guessing you'll want details" said the new guy.
Micheal nodded, not trusting himself to speak
"Well, this was a tricky one, I have to say. Had to use my chronos artefact and everything."
"Go on" said Micheal managed to sputter.
" First I killed his dog, nothing special, just a little accident, easy peasy. He got another one. A puppy. A strategically timed tremor made him step on it. Then he got a cat, well let's just say curiosity got the better of it."
"And then what?", asked Dwight
"By that time, he was quite depressed, so I made him fall in love with his neighbour. A beautiful, compassionate woman. They lived happily for a while, got married and started a family. Triplets. The immortal new true bliss in these years. That was when I had to use the chronos artefact. Couldn't wait for two years to pass, so I just skipped ahead in time. Then I made him fall asleep while he was giving the babies a bath. Poor sod. Blamed himself for the whole thing. The wife was distraught. She blamed him and herself for marrying him. She couldn't take it and killed herself. Then the Immortal had had enough"
"What did he do?" ,Squeaked Pam
"He started praying to Belobog, the God who had granted him his immortality. Belobog appeared and the Immortal started pleading with him to restore his wife and kids. But, before Belobog could say anything I swooped in and reaped the fuck out of his soul."
"How in the hell did you manage to reap a god?" cried Angela
" Oh, easy enough if you know the right people. I drink at the same bar as Czernobog. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse and he blessed my scythe. Or cursed. Depends on how you look at it."
"That still doesn't explain how you killed the Immortal." Said Kevin
The new guy gave him a wry look.
"Use your head you Dunderheaded moron, I killed the god who gave the Immortal his immortality. What do you think happened next?"
"Umm, you killed the god so, that means he was no longer immortal?" Said Kevin, a look of intense concentration on his face
"Bingo", said the new guy.
"Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!", exclaimed Micheal. "Angela, this calls for a celebration. I want the Party planning Committee to pull out all the stops! And, please, for the love of Hades, do not invite Toby."
And as everybody started cheering and clapping the new guy on his back, Pam gives him a smile. He shrugs his shoulders and returns it.
After everybody settles down, he goes upto her. She looks up at him. He smiles, offers his hand and says
"Hi. I'm Jim." | 2019-10-03T21:20:45 | 2019-10-03T19:40:40 | 170 | 65 |
[WP] A WW2 veteran is walking the beaches of Normandy. “How can I live when my friends didn’t” he thinks. A French boy with his family comes over. “American?” they ask. “Yes” the man says. The boy smiles “A famous battle Operation Overlord happened here 300 years ago”. The vet replies “So I hear”. | “So who won?”
The boys brows furrowed in thought. Like he was considering whether to tell me a secret or the truth. I had the distinct feeling he was deciding whether to trust me for some reason. When you are five thousand years on this Earth you get good at reading humanities non verbal cues. That and a great many other things of course. Five thousand years of practice and study allows one to accomplish a great many things.
“My grand da says no one, ultimately.”
I laughed out loud. That took me by surprise, something that didn’t happen much. I could see an older gentleman watching us closely without being obvious about it a few paces away. I knew immediately he was dangerous. His stance, his wariness, like I said, you live as long as me you learn things.
“Your grand da is a wise man, but that was a very long time ago.”
Not as long ago as Appomattox, or the fall of Troy of course but for this kid a month ago is ancient history.
The boy shrugged, picked up a rock snd three it into the water.
“I guess, he talks like it was yesterday, says he remembers that day.”
That peaked my interest. It was a strange thing to say. But not nearly as strange to me as it might be to others. I kept it casual but needed more information.
“I’m sure he’s kidding you. Old people sometimes tell strange stories that aren’t true.”
The boy glanced at the old man who was watching us. It was subtle, the kid was pretty good. The watcher nodded almost imperceptibly.
“No, it’s true, he says you were there.” | The boys father calls to him and he runs away after flashing another smile. He reminds me of the boy who waved from the bombed out balcony in Caretan.
He reminds me of the family we found slaughtered outside of St. Lo. The body's of 2 young boys still wrapped in their mothers arms. All burned and black, but still in thos loving arms. I think of my own mother. How she must have wailed when they told her of my brothers passing on Guadalcanal. He was a tough bastard, but in the end the Nips won out.
He reminds me of the boys I sat with on that Highins boat. All of us boys, in our own right. Children fighting a man's fight, for a man's cause. We became men on this sand. At least a few of us did.
The Krauts were harder than whetstone. Especially those gunners. From the time we were within 40 yards of that beach the awful sound of Hitler's Buzzsaw never ceased. Even after we made it up the Point, that zipping sound rang in my ears. It still wakes me up at night almost 60 years later. For so long I tried like hell to keep thos thoughts from entering my mind. But today, I let them come back, today as I watched that French boy walk back to his family, I fell to my knees and cried. I cried 60 years of pain out in a matter of minutes. I let myself give way, and the floods poured out of my eyes for at least 10 minutes.
When I felt my eyes start to dry I stood up. With all of the pride of the 2nd Rangers I stopped my shaking knees, and again looked over the once bloodied waters of the Channel. I closed my eyes and when they opened I saw my brothers standing before me. They looked as bright eyed and hopeful as the did that morning. Ray still had a piece of steak stuck in the hillbilly buck teeth. He grinned and saluted me once more. The boys had come to take me home. I closed my eyes and felt a peaceful ease washing over me.
I thought it fitting that I should die, where I was born again. | 2019-10-13T14:06:46 | 2019-10-13T12:58:16 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | “Yeah, nah cunt. I don’t think you’ll like it down there”
Kelack leaned back into his flowsac. These humans were getting frustrating.
“So, tell me again. You’re saying that there’s animals that jump, stand up on their tails, and punch you and kick you like brabilak fighters?”
“Yea mate. They’re called kangaroos. Nasty fuckers. The spiders are the worst though”
His digimarker scratched on the screen as Kelack took notes. He looked up with a fearful gaze- “what the hell is a spider?”
“Mate, I’d love to stay and kick the shit with ya, but I’ve got a game of rugby to catch and I’m really not too interested in all this alien shit. If ya want to see earth, why don’t you come down with me? I’ll show you a beautiful aquatic animal called the great white” | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | 2019-11-18T00:04:22 | 2019-11-17T23:02:12 | 719 | 42 |
[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." | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | 2019-12-07T12:57:33 | 2019-12-07T12:04:32 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You are a superhero that has finally defeated your arch-nemesis. As you rummage through the lair of the fallen villain you find a codex of all their master plans. What you find horrifies you. Every act was rooted in a greater good. Your allies have been using you. You were so blind until today. | She was a genius, undoubtly. Plans into plans, traps hidden behind quagmires, finding her lair alone had been a nightmare of outrageous proportions.
The fight itself, not so much. It's all about proportions, the big guy isn't the smartest, the smartass not the strongest. When she was finally locked down in a room with nowhere left to hide and only clenched fists and gritted teeth to pull through, she went down pretty fast. You and your lifelong friends stood victorious after a hellish fight that lasted a lifetime.
Later, you found her diary.
Having your life, belief and faith crashing down is, to put it mildly, not a nice experience.
The greatest ennemy to ever be had only humanity in mind. The other superheroes had only their personal glory in it, rest of the world be damned. Once, they stood together, but glory-seekers hated that one of them had the greater good in mind, for they *were* the greater good, and would never accept a difference in opinion.
What began as friction evolved into rivalry and became a full-blown blood war. She was the mastermind. Your traitor friends had cash, numbers and good communication on their side.
The diary made her true weakness obvious. Sure, she was the kind of genius to make doctorants look like bumbling newborns, but she lacked something. She didn't have a finger on the pulse of society.
She lacked zeitgeist.
Heroes and vilains today are not about plans, saving and destruction. They suffered from the march of the world like everything else. Today, it was about image, public relations, marketing. For all her intelligence, she failed to make herself pass as the good one in the story. Had she done that, she would have had public support, love from the people and the means to succeed. Her failure was to be born a century too late for her own damn good.
Yours was to never question what values your side championed.
Until you read her notes. After all, she *did* place the diary for you to find. Humanity was now deep in the morass, hailing self-serving sociopaths as saviors.
That being said, it didn't to last forever. You didn't have her smarts. But you knew what weapon mattered most.
​
There is a robbery happening at the winslow bank. You, She-devil and Seism are on it. The cameras catch your best profile, heroes would save the day once more.
Seism, fastest man alive, rushes through the front, a robber shoots at him, he dodges artfully by circumventing the shooter like a clockwork. A perfect machinery that never fails, that's why it's easy to predict. It simply needs another shooter aiming at where the clock would be. Finding it out by watching the live feed is hard, the media wants Seism to look cool, not break his routine down.
But for you, it's rather easy.
The idiot runs straight into the bullet, faster than it. There isn't enough left to reconstitue his face.
Sometime later, a video taken with smartphone shows the heroes comparing both robbers and hostages to cockroaches. You know there will be an investigation showing that the robbers were homeless that had been left no choiced in the matter.
​
Someone is going to wreck the superheroes reputation and pick them off one by one. *And then they were none*.
Many heroes, one traitor.
Time to see who is the best schemer being you and your former nemesis. You're glad the rivalry continues even after her death, it's a way to pay your respects for all she taught you. | The Beast's hands shook. It was surrounded by destruction and carnage, but it was most likely a scene that it was used to.
Its hunt was over, the prey now lay deep within its stomach, and yet-
It did not show any satisfaction or joy. It just stood there, hands shaking, head aimed towards the sky as if it was waiting for an answer to an unspoken question directed at beings greater than him.
\*Did I do the right thing?\*
\*Tell me\*
\*Are you the real monsters?\*
White noise, a jarring white line on the image of the transmission that kept multiplying itself until the feed was completely covered up.
"Oh for the love of- " Connor said as he opened his eyes, it seems like he wasn't used to sharing vision as he kept cursing while picking at his eyes "what the fuck was that!?"
"That, dear Connor- " Elysium said, scratching his beard and probably trying to hide the smirk that was forming on his face "-was a man being eaten alive by another - much bigger - man, and said man clearly having regret over his actions"
"That's not what I fucking meant, why was the vision terminated like that!? and why the fuck did it hurt so much!?" Connor said, clearly agitated "and what do YOU mean by regret over his actions? he just took care of the \*thing\* that has been plaguing us all this time!"
"Mr. Connor please calm down you're clearly agitated," Alice said in a very monotone voice, "Could I perhaps get you a hot beverage, I'm sure you'll feel clearly less agitated than before"
"No," he said flatly, he didn't seem to be very fond of Alice, even though he was definitely eyeing her up when arriving at my pocket dimension.
Elysium just chuckled at their exchange.
"Gentlemen," I said, one eye open looking at my companions and the other closed but reflecting the scene where the beast still was into my mind. "It seems that one of... our chess pieces it's about to be stolen, even though the other player it's already dead"
The room grew silent
"Is it some sort of mind of control? perhaps someone or something it's influencing his mind right now" Elysium said "...or perhaps the man behind the beast it's starting to wake up and realized the truth." he said while looking at me, hand on his chin.
Ah... I see.
He was most likely berating our handiwork.
"I worked on Beast for 20 years, I raised him, trained him, modified him almost as much as I did with Alice here," I said, "trust me when I said that there is nothing left of the man he used to be, he is nothing but a puppet, a chess piece for us to make the world a better place"
"A chess piece that got stolen from us," Connor said tapping his finger on the table at a fast pace "what we should be discussing right now is how to get him back!" stopping midway, he looked over at us, his jaw set "or how to take him out before things get ugly...er"
"Unexpected" Elysium said with a sarcastic tone, "you didn't waste any time putting the 'kill' option on the table, what happened to all those years of fighting the evil together for the... greater good..."
"Mr. Connor here has a point, Mr. Elysium," I said interrupting what could have been the start of a violent conflict between the two, Alice could probably take care of Connor if need be but Elysium's power might prove a bit troublesome.
And I didn't want them ruining the new carpet.
"I have several plans already on how to... tackle this particular problem, nothing that a bit of brainstorming can't solve," I said.
\*why\* \*why\* \*why\* he whimpered toward the sky even though we were nowhere near that place \*Elysium! Connor!\*
\*PROFESSOR!\*
Ah... he started crying. The symbol of power and peace across the world - The Beast - is now having a mental breakdown. 20 years of work are most likely going down the drain, whatever could that \*thing\* have done to him?
A shame, really. | 2020-12-03T18:03:14 | 2020-12-03T17:21:11 | 160 | 81 |
[WP] “I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course it was his version of perfection, which naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation and worship from others. Name’s Lucifer by the way.” | ‘Really?’ I said. ‘That’s a unusual name. And what did he do to make you ‘perfect’?’ There was a pause. ‘Really? Of all the things to ask... you’re British, aren’t ya?’
‘And you sound American,’ I remarked, nothing that it did make sense. ‘But what’d he do?’
‘Well... he created me to me perfect,’ Lucifer said. That’s what he did. I was the First, the Eldest. He didn’t make the same mistake twice.’ He smiled a grim little smile.
‘Alright, so you say you’re... I don’t get it. Created how? Born? Cloned?’ ‘I can’t explain it in a way you’d understand,’ Lucifer muttered. How convenient, I thought privately, but I didn’t really know what to do. I was just waiting for my bus, but I was too curious *not* to ask and anyway, I had some experience with delusional people and was worried he might need help.
‘So,’ I ventured carefully. ‘When did you first begin to realize, uh...’ ‘I always knew,’ he said simply. ‘You know,’ I said as he turned away to leave. ‘There’s quite a lot of people like you who claim to be you in one way or another. Why do you think you’re right and would that mean they aren’t or do you see them all as also you, somehow?’
​
He stopped. ‘I am real,’ he hissed. Was that sulfur or just really bad breath?
​
‘Are you mocking me?’
​
‘D-Did I say that out loud?’
​
‘Didn’t have to.’
​
‘Get that question a lot, then?’
​
'Mate, you really are taking the piss, aren't ya?'
​
This had started to turn rather more hostile then I anticipated. I began to get slightly nervous and decided to turn the conversation back to where he seemed the most comfortable; his dad.
'So, as a baby, did you wake up and think you were perfect or would you say that there was a certain... pressure to conform?'
'I was...assumed to be perfect,' he said slowly. 'Watch after my siblings, because he couldn't be arsed to unless they literally sang his praise and begged, that sorta thing. This bunch - he pointed upwards - is just the youngest brood,' he said grimacing. 'Still wet behind the ears, y'know?'
​
'Did you babysit those as well?'
'No,' he replied curtly. 'Dear old Daddy had realised I spread 'dangerous ideas' by that point.'
'What about your mother, was she in the picture at all?'
He looked at me as if I was just a wee bit dense.
​
'I have no mother,' he replied blandly.
​
(TBC) |
It had been a long day. I was working a temp job for a contracting company, and after an exhausting day I stopped for a quick drink at the local brewery. I was half way through my beer when he sat down.
“Long day?” The words floated on his voice, which was almost musical.
I however, was in no mood for music. I had just had a car ride so full of decompression that the radio had stayed off.
“Yeah” I said flatly, trying not to encourage conversation
“You from around here?” Again, the tone of his voice was almost a purr, soothing and calming. I sighed deeply, knowing I didn’t have much fight in me left.
“No, from the west coast. Northern Cali. You?”
He gave a slight giggle and looked genuinely delighted that I had asked, but the laugh was not like the words, and a shiver ran cold down my spine.
“Oh, I’m not from around here either” he swirled his drink but never drank from it, and seemed genuinely delighted to be talking and continued “I’m from both heaven and hell if you can imagine that”
“Ah” I replied, more interested in an exit strategy now then this mans life story.
“Was born in heaven, rebelled, got kicked out” he said quickly.
“That’s too bad” I mumbled as I reached for my wallet.
“Not really” he purred again “but you understand that don’t you?”
I unwillingly held my breath. No one knew about my descent. This stranger had just hinted at a dark stain in my memories and I did not take kind to that sort of thing. I felt anger rise up inside me. Felt it take over the fear of being found out.
“So why’d you do it then?” I asked it as more of a demand for information than a genuine question.
“I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course it was his version of perfection, which naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation from others. The names Lucifer by the way.”
“Yeah” I let out a sharp exhalation through my nose “I got that”
“Why’d YOU do it?” He returned.
The glint in his eyes from the neon signage behind the bar looked sinister. I decided not to answer and instead retorted “if you happen to be in the area looking for a soul to steal, I’d recommend you avoid trying to get it by way of fiddle” I put the money for my drink down next to my half empty glass, and began to walk out.
Lucifer followed me out to my work truck repeating that same small giggle.
“Ah, very clever” I could feel his stare as I unlocked my car “but you see that story isn’t real”
I opened my truck door with the full intention to leave him standing there. But I paused, “None of it is”.
“And isn’t that the answer, hm? You rebelled because your faith in the falseness of it all matched your fathers faith in the goodness of it?” He waited for an answer we both knew I wasn’t about to give. So he continued “we’re not so different now, are we?”
I spit at the ground as my answer. Disgusted at where the conversation had led.
He didn’t look upset at this, as I had guessed he would. I closed my car door, and through the windshield I saw a look of pure unadulterated knowing in his smile.
I fought the chills as I drove away, and turned on the radio.
I needed to get the hell out of Georgia. | 2020-12-13T09:36:39 | 2020-12-13T09:15:43 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You can talk to pigeons and only pigeons. In exchange for some seeds or if they trust you enough, they tell you things, like where the best bread spots are, embarrassing things humans or other pigeons have done, or what's under the statues around the city that keep them from moving. | Kevin took a seat on an empty park bench, pulled out the bag of croutons he carried in his bag, and threw a handful on the ground. Within seconds a fat blue-brown pigeon landed and began pecking at the dried pieces of bread.
“Yo Gutterflap,” The pigeon called out. “Get over here, it’s the good stuff.”
Another pigeon landed, this one more scrappy. “Garlic parmesan?" It said. "That's the good stuff.”
"I know, that's what I said."
"You read my mind."
"Birds of a feather, my man. Birds of a feather."
“Hey guys, I’m new in town.” Kevin said, throwing another fist full of croutons. "Nice to meet you both.”
The pigeons kept pecking, paying Kevin no attention “So Fatwing,” the scrappy pigeon said between pecks. “Pretty sure that human just talked.”
“Mmhmm,” Fatwing responded.
“Weird.”
“You think he’s empty?”
“He's gotta be. They all are.”
"He's talking tho."
“Weird.”
"Mmhmm."
The pigeons kept on pecking at the croutons. Kevin let them be, if there was one thing he’d learned about pigeons it was that you couldn’t force a conversation. When they wanted to talk, they’d talk. When they didn’t, well, they’d eat.
“You know these croutons remind of that place on 43rd?” Fatwing said. “You know, the pizza place?”
“Olive Garden?”
“Olive Garden don’t do pizza.”
“They Italian tho.”
“Weird, right?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“So human,” Gutterflap said after a minute. “Wanna settle something for us?”
“What is it?” Kevin asked.
“Does the Olive Garden on 43rd do pizza or nah?”
“Don’t know, never been. I’m new in town.”
“See,” Fatwing said. “I told you they don’t do pizza.”
“He said he didn’t know, idiot.” Gutterflap responded.
“He don’t know much does he.”
“He’s new in town.”
“Or maybe just empty.”
“Hey Human,” Gutterflap turned back to Kevin. “Settle something else for us. You empty?”
“I don’t know,” Kevin said. “What do you mean by empty?”
“He don’t know much, does he.” Fatwing said.
“Probably don't know about the statues either,” Gutterflap responded.
“He wouldn’t be here if he did.”
“Maybe he’s empty.”
Kevin frowned. “What's there to know about the statues?”
“Hey Human,” Gutterflap said. “Settle something else for us. You know about the statues or nah?”
“I don’t,” Kevin said. “Tell me about them.”
“See,” Gutterflap said to the other pigeon. “Told you he don’t know about the statues.”
“He don’t know much does he,” Fatwing replied.
“He’s new in town.”
“Guys,” Kevin said, suppressing his frustration. If there’s one thing he’d learned about pigeons it was that you had to be patient. “What’s up with the statues? What do you mean by empty?”
“Don’t worry human,” Fatwing said casually. “They don’t move around so much anymore.”
“The bolts are rusting tho,” Gutterflap responded.
“Mmhmm.”
“But he’ll be all right.”
“If he’s empty.”
“Mmhmm.”
And with that, the birds flew off, leaving Kevin alone. He wouldn’t soon forget the conversation. If there was one thing he’d learned about pigeons, it was that they often knew more than they let on.
Kevin packed up his things, and walked home from the park. Only then did he notice the statues strewn about the walkway. All life sized, all bolted down into raw cement, no pedestal or plaque to be found. The pigeons were right. The bolts were rusted.
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe |
The bread in his hand was stale and beginning to harden, but the pigeons did not seem to mind it any. They were simple creatures, too foolish to feel any fear for the humans that rushed passed them heading to their jobs, their families, or wherever it was humans were supposed to go.
“Thank you, Saad,” said Irisa, the nearly all white pigeon pausing her pecking. “Aren’t you early today? The sun is not yet at its highest but here you sit.” Saad tossed another piece of bread in her direction and she hopped after it.
He looked up at the sky and passed the park trees. The sky was clear and the sun, as Irisa said, was still rising. It all seemed much closer seeing it like this than through a window from inside the office. “Yes, I found my morning suddenly free and thought the park would be a good place to spend it.”
Two pigeons, Dorian and Damian, finding themselves too close to one another and in competition for some scattered crumbs, flapped their wings at one another and pulled Saad’s eyes back to the ground. Men and birds both, it seemed, were all too happy to fight when plenty of bread remained for all to have. He tore at the loaf in his hand and tossed more pieces to settle the flock that gathered around him.
“Well, I’m happy for it. Hardly anyone comes during this time to feed us.” Irisa fluttered her wings as she hopped onto the bench with him.
“No Kiri today?” He peered into the birds, not seeing the wide-set one with blue feathers around her neck. “Or does she only come around during my lunch break? Midday, I mean?”
Irisa let out a long coo, as she always did when amused. “No, that one will be too embarrassed to show her feathers around here for days, I’d imagine.” The white pigeon jumped onto the box Saad had at his side and tilted her head at it. “She flew right into one of those buildings your kind seem to enjoy spending their time in — the ones with the tricky see-through sides. She’s not really hurt, only her pride. And how could she not be? A bird her age still being fooled into heading into one of those buildings.” She let out another long coo.
“I wouldn’t blame her. It’s an easy trap. The buildings around here seem much shinier and attractive from the outside than they ever end up being once you get up close to them and see what they are like on the inside.”
“A trick of the light is all it is. Makes those see-through sides seem like it is more of the open sky. But if you look closely, you can see that it isn’t that at all,” the pigeon said sagely. “But more importantly, what is this? You haven’t brought this with you before.” She pecked at the cardboard box.
“Nothing you’d be interested in, I don’t think. They’re things I brought from work — some odds and ends I had on my desk. Some papers too.” He opened the lid, displaying the summary of the last two years of his life for her to see. “Just junk.”
Irisa turned her head away from the box, focusing instead on the bread in his hand even as he spoke. He tore off a sizeable chunk and threw it to the ground, sending the pigeon barreling through the ones still gathered at his feet as she chased after it. Damian appeared at her side, and the two tore the bread into smaller pieces that were quickly gobbled up.
“I flew to the giant human holding the torch yesterday,” Damian said, preening. “I got up close and flew in circles, but I couldn’t see where her cage was.”
“Why do you think she has a cage?”
“Of course she has a cage. Why else would she stay out in the water instead of flying back into the city where all the food is?”
Saad snorted as he tore the rest of the loaf into a few more pieces and threw one at the ridiculous bird. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“No?” asked Irisa from among the flock. “Then why stay where she is? I can’t stand the water myself. That’s why I just fly to places like this park instead. I thought all humans had cages, the way they stay away all day.” She tilted her head at Saad. “Not you, I suppose, since you’re here.”
Saad was quiet at that.
He rose from the bench and the birds jumped back a few feet before they leaped forwards again to catch the rest of the bread he dusted out from his hands.
“I think I know somewhere else to spend the rest of my day,” he said as farewell, taking his box with him as he sped out of the park.
r/Inder | 2021-04-19T20:07:01 | 2021-04-19T19:03:50 | 279 | 32 |
[WP] Whenever royalty or someone important becomes paranoid about potential assassins, you get hired, your job is to "fail" an assassination to make them feel like they can relax again. | The walkie talkie was burning a hole through my pocket. It had been too long since the last check-in, and that meant we were running behind. We absolutely couldn't be running behind. I absentmindedly chewed my lip and paced for another minute before I finally lost it. I whipped out the walkie talkie and pretty much shouted, "Status update!"
There was a moment of static and then a rough voice came through, "The final speaker is almost installed. IT is on the scene. Over."
"Shooter is prepped and ready. Over."
"Route is clear. Convoy is on schedule. Over."
I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart before responding. "Roger that everyone. Next time keep me up to date before I have a heart attack. Over and out."
With a sigh of relief, I returned the walkie talkie to my pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was starting to come apart at the edge of the crease because I'd looked at it so many times. It was the Prince's schedule for the day, complete with the exact route he would be taking to get to his cousin's Christening.
My team would be stationed at perfect intervals around Center Square, with the lovely Selene perched in an upper story window, ready to fire the all important shot.
I was situated at home base: the backroom of a little cafe on the far edge of the square. This was Tech Central, and where everyone would meet afterward to celebrate a job well done. Just then a young bespectacled man waltzed in, computer in hand.
"How's everything looking, Jes?" I asked.
He pushed his glasses up on his face and looked at me with excited eyes. "We just completed the sound check. Everything is working perfectly."
Praise be. If this job actually went well, we could be on our way to a bright future. I glanced down at my watch and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. It was 8 a.m. already!
"The cameras! Pull up the cameras!" I demanded.
Jes hurried to comply, and quickly turned his computer around so I could see. The convoy that carried the prince was right on schedule. It was a block away from Center Square. It was show time.
"Convoy inbound, everybody ready?" I asked.
A chorus of 'yes, sirs' came from the walkie talkie, and for the first time today I actually smiled. This was going to work. I watched the screen without so much as a blink as the car rolled steadily closer to the square. When the front wheels rolled onto the cobblestones of the square, it was time to go.
"On my signal..." I said, waiting for the car to reach the marked spot of the road.
"3, 2, 1. Now!"
Simultaneously, Jes hit a button on his computer and Selene took her shot. The BB hit the windshield hard enough to crack it, and the pre-recorded gunshot echoed through the speakers around the square.
The crowd went wild and the Prince's security force jumped into action. They cleared the way for the car to speed through the square, and as they went the sound of more gunshots accompanied them. I watched with glee as the car sped away and disappeared around a corner.
It was all over in a matter of seconds, but boy had it been executed perfectly. Jes had done an admirable job of timing the sound effects, and Selene's shot had been spot on. I emerged from the back room into the cafe, where innocent bystanders were still cowering in fear and confusion.
The team came in one-by-one and joined me at the booth in the corner. I was about to give my customary well-done speech when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and my smile got even bigger when I saw who it was from.
*Royal Advisor Cassian: Prince Paranoid nearly peed himself. Job well done. Your payment will be transferred in the next three business days.*
A job well done indeed.
I turned back to my team and with a satisfied smile asked, "Who's ready for cake?" | “You see Mr. Richards, had this been an actual assassination attempt, you would be dead right about now, so can I interest you in a life insurance policy? Our insurance is ranked third in the world and offers coverage that our competitors won’t. You think other companies will give you coverage for acts of assassin? Not only will we insure any damage during the assassination, if someone unfortunately kills you, we will hire someone to avenge you. Now what do you say?”
“Gak, Ack, Gak.” Richards made a few pained sounds, reaching for the blade in his throat, trying to pull it out.
“Speechless? It is a great deal. Don’t worry, that’s just a rubber knife with a fake blood pouch inside. So, when you stab someone, the fake blood comes out, genius right?” James retrieved the blade from the target’s throat, only to watch Richards fall to the floor dead, having made a fatal mistake. “I… think I grabbed the wrong knife.”
Crouching beside the body, James pressed his fingers against the man’s neck, only to grow a little pale himself when he felt no response. This was bad, his agency was going to kill him for this. What sort of insurance salesperson murders someone? He was meant to put high pressure targets at ease, not stab their throats. Maybe he could hide the body?
“Boss, you got a phone call, it’s from someone called Never die insurance. They want you to rate their services out of five. They mentioned something about you having a visitor.” The thudding against the door caused James to jump, grabbing the body from the floor, awkwardly shifting it back into the chair.
“J-just a second. He’s passed out.”
“Who the hell are you? I’m coming in. Boss, are you alright?” The voice shouted, the locked door barely able to contain the voice’s heavy collisions with it, the person on the other side trying to break through.
When the body was sitting upright in the chair, James opened his briefcase, tossing aside the pile of paperwork that he wouldn’t need, retrieving the rubber knife from his pocket, slipping it into the wound, trying to conceal it. Just as he was done preparing the body, the door opened, a panting muscular guard charging in, pointing his gun at James.
“You killed him, you bastard, I’ll blow that ugly mug of yours clean off.”
“Ugly? Wait, this is all a mistake. I’m a sales agent, I sell insurance. One of our tactics is to target people who have been searching online phrases like. ‘How to know if someone is trying to kill me’ and ‘Am I being assassinated?’ This is all legally gained through cookies and other data. Mr. Richards is one of those people and as such they sent me to sell him our insurance. It’s all somewhat legal.”
“But you killed him, I can see blood. That doesn’t make any sense.” The man kept his gun on James, watching the sales agent for any sudden movements.
“Rubber knife. It’s a tactic to get people to buy our product. Statistics tell us that using a rubber knife increases sales ten percent.” James turned the body around in the chair, making it face away from the guard as he pulled the rubber knife from it. “See, fake knife with fake blood.” He said as he tossed the blade at the man’s feet.
The guard stepped on it, checking it over. The rubber bending beneath his foot. “So, it’s all some big sales pitch? That’s somewhat impressive. I really should check on him though.”
“You can’t. He’s passed out. I’m certified to perform first aid if something goes wrong. You could endanger his life by interfering. Just come back in an hour when he is better, and we can discuss the contract he will be signing.”
The guard stared at James before sighing. “Fine, that sounds legit, plus the company wouldn’t call me if you killed him. I’ll come back in an hour, just make sure he’s better.”
“Will do.” As soon as the man left, James made his way for the window, pulling it open, before climbing out, not about to escape through the front door. “Guess, its time to look for another job.” He said as he escaped through the mansion’s backyard, tossing his briefcase behind him, getting ready for his life on the run.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-05-03T10:52:20 | 2021-05-03T08:39:07 | 268 | 100 |
[WP] As you sip your morning coffee, you open up your Sims Universe 3 game on your quantum computer. As you zoom in on a planet you've been watching and tormenting, you notice the governments of the world building a strange device. A flash. A man appears before you. "Are you god?" He asks. | The question replayed in my head a moment later after this strange, funny-smelling man appeared in my office.
*"Are you god?"*
*"Well, not exactly..."*
I had to be careful in what I say, as this was the craziest situation I had ever been in. This man was clearly from the Imsobored Universe that I had created on my computer. He looked around my office and gave inquisitive looks at almost every single office supply. Then he looked at me and asked a question.
*"Where am I? I can understand you, but nothing seems familiar and the words on your books seem to be in another language."*
*"This is earth. I speak in a language called English."*
*"Fascinating, my language is called Fenglish. But it seems the written text is a bit... different."*
He looked all around until he glanced at my computer screen and was astonished. He clearly recognized what a computer was, but didn't expect his planet to be on screen. He sat down at the chair and began asking a few more questions about his universe. He clicked around until finally he accidentally unleashed a hurricane on his home planet and then... a chuckle?
*"Oh this is quite fun. These bastards tormented me and wanted to send me to another dimension as punishment. Looks like the chairs have turned!"*
*"You mean tables?"*
*"What's a table?"*
*"Oh that doesn't matter. Try unleashing this giant lizard monster on them!"*
He laughed devilishly as I pulled up a chair next to him and we spent the next few days torturing his home planet. He came up with far crueler and creative ways to torture the planet than I could have imagined. Of course I let him stay for free as we plotted other civilizations' demise.
/r/tamarche for more of my work <3 | "I'm not." I flatly answered the man who stood before me.
"Then...Then who are you?" The man's voice quivered with every word, perhaps still shocked from the notion that I am not the god he's trying to find.
"My name?" I replied as I place the empty cup of coffee on top of my desk. "My name is not something to be given to the likes of you... my child."
As he heard the last part of my sentence, colour began returning to his face. The man broke out the largest smile I had ever seen, and then spoke with a frenzied energy I cannot imagine having.
"So you are god!"
"I'm not." I replied with the same flat tone I had before.
"But you've said that I am your child!"
"Indeed, that is true."
"Then-"
I pomptly cut off his words, tired from hearing the same thing over and over again.
"I. Am. Not. A. God."
The man's feet took a step back. Was I that scary? No matter, I am in the wrong. I shouldn't be scaring my children like this.
"Apologies." I lifted my self from that comfy chair, and offered the scared child my hands.
Looking at my hands, the man harboured a confused gaze. "W-Why?"
"You want to see them don't you? Follow me."
Reluctantly, he held my hand. The room then began twisting and folding — The shapes breaking their angles until there's nothing left but the cold uncaring void.
But in contrast of the utter darkness that surrounded us, the man spoke excitedly. "So where are they? Where are the gods?"
"Look around." It told him as my lips curved into a grin, equally excited just as he is.
Following my words, the man's eyes wandered into the darkness, shifting left and right, and up and down.
Eventually, the twinkle in his eyes vanished. His eyes began quivering akin to his voice as he began to scream.
"W-Who are they!?" He cried in terror. His knees giving away from his fright. "T-This faces! Who do they belong to!?"
Upon his question, the grin on my face shifted into a full-fledged smile.
I then turned my heads towards him, and simply said;
"The Gods." | 2021-06-29T11:50:43 | 2021-06-29T11:28:52 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] You're a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You've actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer's business, you finally reveal yourself. | A Mimic, a creature that only seem to have one purpose, luring adventurers to their doom by mimicking a certain item such as a chest, a door, a wardrobe, well mostly chest. But here is a tale of a mimic who took form of a chair.
*I lived quite a boring life. Just keeping still and occasionally eating rats or occasionally raccoons within the old castle. I never ate adventurers because none of them even approached me.*
***"And here they are, two adventurers. I bet they are just gonna ignore me again"*** *I thought to myself.*
"Look Steven! Its a chair!" Said the young adventurer as she picked me up.
***"Wait what?"***
"I can see that Claire, please don't tell me you want to take that chair" said the other adventurer.
***"Wait what do I do now?"*** *This is the first time in centuries someone approached me, let alone pick me up!*
"Well, its a bit weird but I feel bad leaving it alone, I think we can give it another chance, please Steven? Pretty please?" She tried to show puppy eyes to the other adventurer.
"Okay fine, but you're carrying it" as he toss the loot sack over his shoulder.
"It's okay Mr. Chair, I'm going to take care of you" she smiled at me.
*So her name is Claire. Wait does she realize im a Mimic? I think I should play along as a chair for now.*
*It was the best decision I've ever made, she retired from adventuring after picking me up and opened up a tavern. My life was simple as I stared at many people come and go. I often let one sit on me and listened to their tales. Or hear the bards sing and play their instruments.*
*At night I mostly sneak to the kitchen and eat the trash and it tasted much better than eating rats and raccoons honestly. My life is perfect, she cleans me everyday and there are plenty of entertainment in here, heck the trash here taste really good, can't believe they throw these stuff away.*
*After a few years I made my decision, I shall be the guardian of this tavern. I watched as months go by, I have seen a lot of things. I eventually saw her fall in love and raised a family in the tavern. She would sit on me and sing lullaby to her child. Sometimes I caught myself humming along.*
Life was good until this very day.
A bunch of ruffians came in the tavern as we were closing up. I've seen troublemaker's before but this feels different, and I was right. As one of them sat on me I knew they were trouble.
One of the ruffian suddenly grabbed her daughter and started making demands. I wanted to do something but I didn't want to reveal myself.
The old lady and old man asked the ruffians to release their daughter but the ruffians just laughed at them. Soon I saw the leader of the ruffians just playing with his knife threatening my family.
The leader of the ruffians grab me and sits on me, and this guy not only have the nerve to threaten my family but now he sits the wrong way? That's when I snapped.
*My teeth pops out of the seat and the back post, in one swift motion, I clamped my jaws between his legs, he screamed in agony but I clamped even harder*
*The others stared in terror trying to process what is going on as their leader's balls is being torn off by a chair*
As much I wanted to continue munching on him I spat him out. He tasted gross.
"Shit! Thats a Mimic! Lets get outta here!" One of the ruffians yelled, they ran out while tripping on their own feet while trying to carry their wounded leader.
The tavern was a mess, but at least they ran empty handed but I can't say the same for myself. I look back at the frightened family, the old man clutching his daughter close to him and the old lady who just stared at me without breaking contact.
***"I guess this is it. They know I'm a Mimic and I cant stay here anymore"*** *I thought to myself*
*I look back and stared at the old lady one more time before forcing myself to start marching out the door*
Suddenly I heard a familiar sound, she was softly humming. I stopped and slowly turned around and hear her humming, it was the lullaby she used to sing for her daughter. I didn't realized it but I started humming as well.
She stood up and slowly walk towards me and kneeled in front of me. She slowly pat me and said "For some reason I always knew someone was watching over me, it was you wasn't it Mr. Chair?"
I simply slowly nodded.
"Well Mr. Chair, I think I have some leftovers, would you like some?" She smiled in front of me and for a brief moment I saw her younger self, the day she picked me up.
"Well" she stood up and starts walking to the kitchen "don't wait up!"
I quickly nodded and followed her. After all, this is my family now. | I sat in the dark cold room in wait for a pesky group of adventurers to make their way in here. It had been quite some time since I've seen anyone other than the goblins that inhabitated this cave and I was growing hungry. The occasion goblin here and there helped tide over my appetite but in my experience adventurers just had a really unique taste to them that satisfied my hunger for many months.
It was a regular day of sitting there in wait, I was no fool when it came to adventurers and I knew when they reached this point in the cave they would have to take a rest to recoup before pressing on. At least that's what had taken place in the past which is why I took the shape of a neat little wooden chair. Just as I began to think another day past without a meal, I heard the sounds of swords clashing and the grunts of combat. My mouth began to salivate and I could see little bits of moisture appearing on top of the chair's base.
Explosions and magic were being cast just outside the door when suddenly a burley dwarf adventurer broke through the door, an arrow was deep in his shoulder and he swiftly reached up and broke the shaft and removed it while pressing his back to the door. His eyes scanned the room before locking onto me, he went to pick me up and I allowed it. As he carried me I could feel my disguise wavoring as my mouth began to open. Just before I could snap he wedged me into the door and began to huff. He was all alone? Where were his friends, surely he would have some sort of party to have made it this far, I thought to myself. That's when it dawned on me. I will wait for his other party members to catch up before I attack, yes, yes! It had been so long since I've had a feast and this was turning out to be a grand scheme.
Once more the dwarf locked his eyes on me and tilted his head a little bit. He began to inspect me, looking at all the intricate carvings into my wooden flesh before saying, "Aye, you're quite the chair ain'tcha?" He pulled out a hand axe and picked me up with one arm and before saying to himself, "Just gotta get us outta here one final time. I swear it I'll never be caught in another cave if ye just get me outta here one final time." And with that he broke through the door, fighting his way out of the cave.
That was years ago now and the dwarf kept true to his promise. He never went adventuring again and started himself a nice little tavern where I found myself out on the floor. At first the amount of flesh here was almost overwhelming and I nearly revealed myself but with time I found that this place almost made me forget about my hunger. The ballads from the bards was like eating with my ears and I never went to sleep cold. I did of course eat the occasional guest but only the ones that had taken a seat atop me and were discussing their shady business dealings and outside of the dwarf's tavern or at least in a backroom late at night. It was quite the life.
That was until the day some men came to rough up the tavern that I found myself calling home. They entered and upon immediate inspection everyone could tell they were trouble. They had scowls on their faces and immediately approached the counter, where I was currently disguised as a bar stool, and told the dwarf that they were in charge of this territory now and he had to pay them a "fee" if he didn't want his shop or anyone of his friends broken. The dwarf had dealt with people like this before and gave them his typical response of telling them to fuck off and get the hell out of his shop. As the final word slipped from his lips one of the men pulled out a club and hit the dwarf across the face, busting open his nose and lip as he was sent scrawling to the floor.
An anger I didn't know existed began to take over me. The men began to hop over the tavern and just as they were I wrapped my tongue around one of their ankles. "What the..?" was all he could get out before the bar stools top transformed to a mouth with rows of razor sharp teeth. I opened my mouth and he fell right into me before my teeth started to rip him apart. Chunks of limbs fell to the side of the stool as I cleaved them off and upon seeing this the other two men began to scream, "He has a mimic!"
I lunged up onto the counter and leading with my mouth latched onto one of their heads, blood was trickling down his neck before I cleaved his head off with a loud crunch. I stared at the final ruffian. My teeth covered in his friend's blood as he began to run away. The dwarf looked up at me in fear for his own life and that's when I decided to give him a lick on the cheek. I had seen dogs do this and people seemed to appreciate it but he looked terrified. I was embarrassed and transformed entirely into the stool. Hiding my teeth and tongue.
That was a few weeks ago and now Henrik and I are on much better terms. He talks to me and although I can't speak to him I show him affection. He always has fed me scraps from the kitchen which is really nice! He even brought a small dragon statue from his adventuring days to the tavern so that if any ruffians came around again I'd be even more menacing.
I think I'm going to like it here a lot.
-------
For more stories check out /r/Benthe27thgamer | 2021-09-22T06:25:02 | 2021-09-22T03:22:02 | 58 | 34 |
[WP] "Son, i need to tell you something. I am a god." "Dad, I'm 20 and studying mythology. You don't think i haven't figured that out?" | The tide of mortals rises and falls.
Swells like a symphony.
Crashes like a wave against the tallest rocks.
And sure as a golden age rises, it will someday set– the land left bitterly shrouded in the one and only constant truth between myth and mortal alike.
Darkness.
From ember and ash, we clawed our way into being– gods. Birthed from the only true source of life; fire. From heat, we were forged. With the cold came knowledge.
*All* knowledge.
And that, most of us believe, is the true test. The first layer to break through– the eggshell from which we either break with our own beaks or tuck back into ourselves to sleep for a millenia more. The understanding that one is what one is and wrapping one's fingers around their assigned sword; it is no trivial feat.
And still, we must. For we were responsible. Gods were not born without purpose. It was etched into our skulls. Laid before our eyes and inscribed into our tools. What must be done was as clear as the brilliant burning stars around us, birthing more gods and continuing the cycle.
For parenting, however... no such manual existed.
I wasn't certain when to tell him, nor how. When I did, his lips birthed the first string of words to have ever surprised me.
A new emotion to a god was worth more than all the treasures in creation– I smiled perpetually as I doted upon the back of his head.
"You... already figured it out?"
"Of course," he chuckled as he turned around in his chair. "Who did you think you were fooling?"
"All of creation, I suppose," I responded.
"Yeah, you're not very slick," he said before turning back to his book.
"Where did I err?"
He sighed and closed his book before turning around and sitting backwards in his chair, "Alright, big guy. Riddle me this: how is it that someone who quotes scripture nonstop owns nothing religiously symbolic?"
"I..."
"Nothing around the house that would suggest you're of the faith," he continued. "You don't even own a copy of the scripture."
"For it was I who penned it," I defended myself.
"I get that, big shot."
". . . You could not have made such a leap in logic with that information alone," I insisted.
He folded his arms on the back of his chair and rested his head on them, looking upon me as though he pitied me.
"Dad. Remember when I was a little kid? When I wished I had a friend who understood me? Then suddenly, my stuffed tiger came to life?"
"T'was your imaginary friend," I smiled warmly. "I felt content to allow you to believe in it."
"Yeah, well I took him next door and Mrs. Goldman screamed for five minutes straight. She's *still* in a mental ward, do you realize that?"
I turned my gaze left and peered through the architecture. Indeed, Mr. Goldman had fallen asleep with a TV dinner on his gut. The true sign of a single man.
"Then there's all this mythology," he turned partway around and felt around for the book on his desk. He pulled it forward and set it against the backrest of the chair before poring over the pages. "I mean, this stuff in here. It's all describing *you*."
". . . Son. Had I known all this time how keen an intellect you possessed, I-"
"No. Nope. Even dum dum down at the end of the road could have figured you out. I said it once, I'll say it again, you're not slick."
I folded my arms and leaned against the wall.
"Well. How about that?"
"Yeah, how about that," he said before turning around returning to his studies. "I love you pop, but you're too perfect. Always where I need you to be. Telling me exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it. Making sure every single one of my needs is met. Nobody is *that* lucky. Like, *all the time*."
I chuckled softly before turning and making for the door.
"And dad..."
I turned around.
"Thanks. You're a god at being a dad."
Pride. Gods were to be wary of it.
The boy was good at testing me.
r/A15MinuteMythos | I’ve always knows my dad was… “special”
My mom had died in childbirth, so all my life it was just my dad and I. Every other kid in school had two parents, but I never felt jealous because my dad was more than enough.
In second grade, when Tommy shoved me into a locker and peed on me somehow my dad knew. When I got home he sat me down at the table and asked me if I wanted a pet. As any normal kid would be, I was ecstatic! He told me to be a good boy and I would have a new friend tomorrow.
The next day Tommy wasn’t at school, and he never showed up again. However when I got home, my dad had built a pen in the backyard, and there was a wolf in there.
“Here’s your new friend, I just made..errrmm found him this morning!”
Now normally a father would not allow their child to go anywhere near a wolf, but like I said, my dad was special. Also, for some reason I knew the wolf would never hurt me.
“What’s his name?” I asked
“His name’s Tom! What do you think?”
“I love him!”
Every day after school I would come home and play with Tom, and whenever I got bullied my dad would ask me the same question.
“Would you like a pet?”
And every time I said yes. And the next day there would be another wolf, with a similar name to my bully, out in the pen with Tom.
It took me too long to figure out the truth, but it was so absurd I didn’t believe it. No human can turn someone into a wolf right?
But then I started thinking about it. Isn’t it weird that my dad has looked the same for as long as I can remember? Also what kind of name is Loky? He always used to joke that his dad wanted to name him after a powerful god but he couldn’t spell, but I’ve never met someone with worse dyslexia than my dad. It’s almost as though he spoke a different language, but that can’t be right, I always hear him talk in English! Also what about his constant, child-like pranks? There was that one time in eighth grade when I was getting yelled at by a teacher for something someone else did, and then I caught a glimpse of my dad outside the window. The next thing I knew there was a pie flying through the open window that landed right in my teacher’s face. The security cameras didn’t see anything, and my dad never mentioned it but I definitely saw him there.
Then, when I turned 18 my school did a unit on Norse mythology, and it all hit me. The snakes that were always in the lawn, all the wolves, the amazing halloween costumes that I could’ve sworn were real.
Two years later I awakened. I was brushing my teeth as normal, and I saw my horrible bed head.
“I wish my hair was straight instead of super curly, it would make life so much easier” I said aloud to no one in particular. Then, as I was watching my hair started to straighten and drop into a perfect part.
OH MY GOD
“I wish my hair was pink and curly”
OH MY GOD
“I wish I was muscular”
OH MY GOD
“You know, I think it’s time we had that talk now” I heard the familiar voice of my dad say from right behind me.
“Dad, we’re in the middle of New York! You live in Seattle! When did you get here?”
“I just left, it’s a pretty short fly when you know what you’re doing. Anyways, son I need to tell you something. I am a god.”
“Dad I’m 20 and I’ve been studying mythology ever since my Norse mythology unit in twelfth grade. You really think I don’t know”
“Errr well uhhh” he stuttered. He clearly expected me to be surprised and overwhelmed, and my laid back manner seems to have short-circuited him.
“Why don’t you tech me how to fly, and we can forget the part where you lied about my ancestry for 20 years.” I said, raising my now purple eyebrow at him.
“Uhh sure, let me just eat some breakfast.”
“Also, can you teach me how to turn people into wolves? There’s this really annoying kid in my class that says Loki is a pushover” I said with a wicked gleam in my eye.
“Hahahahahaha, I would love to. Let’s try it out on some white supremacists first though, you need someone with a weak mind to practice on.”
————————————————-
Please let me know what you think, this is my first post here and I really want to develop my writing skills so any feedback is welcome! | 2021-12-10T09:17:45 | 2021-12-10T08:37:29 | 1,557 | 142 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | The galactic imperium council observed humanity’s colonization of planets for decades, amused as the first tentative steps seemed to come from the whole planet, and then devolved into a race for materials, that then sparked wars amongst the human “nations”. Pitiful race that couldn’t even align itself to the great cause of intergalactic colonization. It just caused them to go to war. Interestingly enough the humans went from basic space ships, which took them a hundred thousand years of evolution to create, to near light speed craft in less than a decade once war broke out. They showed some potential.
Once they reached the fourth solar system of colonies the Imperium decided to take action and voted unanimously these humans were to be stopped and declared war on them. We destroyed some of their asteroid mining operations and took the few survivors as prisoners.
The humans requested parlay. We paused aggressions and waited in the chamber on AletraC for the human delegation to arrive.
“We are a little surprised by this action, it took us until now to understand that your communication was, in fact, a declaration of war. You are the first alien contact we had, and didn’t expect it to be so aggressive.” The human ambassador said.
“The Imperium has been studying the human race for millennia and once we confirmed your inability to unite as one people it was decided you would not be allowed to populate beyond your own quadrant. As soon as you moved beyond Centauri 7 we sent the declaration of war.”
“Yes, we noticed your attacks. How would you describe these attacks?”
“I’m sorry, Human, what do you mean? We would describe them as ‘going to war’. We launched our military against your position, destroyed your defenses, and captured prisoners. War.”
“And what are the rules of this war?”
“Rules? We have no rules. Frankly, we have no war. The imperium exists for the purpose of expansion and colonization, our military is far superior to any other, so we have no need for rules. You will surrender, or perish. That is all you need to know. You are only lucky it is us doing the conquering before you destroyed each other in your endless attrition you call war amongst yourselves.”
“You don’t understand. What you call attrition, we call restraint. I’ll ask again, what are the rules of engagement, treatment of prisoners, protection of non-combatants, acceptable weaponry?”
“Human, I’ll respond again in a way you can hopefully understand. IT IS WAR. RULES HAVE NO PLACE IN WAR. DO YOU SURRENDER?”
I count this as the first warning of our cosmic mistake, and I only hope enough of the imperium survives to be kind to my memory. We have never dealt with a species so violent as to create something called a ‘suicide attack’ that was able to make it beyond a few hundred years of civilized evolution. Our lack of understanding about these rules the humans had probably are why we dismissed their projectile weapons, and never detected the weapons strapped to them that created mini suns when detonated.
The council was vaporized that day, those were the last thoughts of the Imperium Negotiator Ng’aat echoed through his people on the capitol ships near the council chambers followed by a cosmic scream and the psychic damage of such a death to a people that shared a mind.
Then a flash of light from where the chamber used to be as it exploded with force never seen by the imperium.
It seems that was the sign the humans were waiting for, as they launched projectiles from their ships and planets into the stars. Their first response of the war. We expected conventional explosives, no longer a threat to us. What they sent were much larger versions of those contained stars. The damage was staggering.
That was only the beginning. | A world engine is a terrible thing.
The child of long lost rumbling earth, split open for their bounty and lost to the abyss as so much dust. It spat out great tongues of smoke, choking the sky and the stars, like inky tendrils choking the planet.
In the war of complexity and entropy, entropy won out. Best to take what you can while the taking is good then to wither away in the smalls of space. Desolate and uncaring are simply words, simple categories to place things into, the privilege of the sentient. Better to live another day in the sun then fade away like the dust behind you.
And so these leviathans lurked through space, as big as comets and spewing doom. Blasphemers against time, an open insult to any that would look at them.
It was no surprise that the other peoples of the cosmos would feel a sense of violation when witnessing such horrors. Perhaps the great devouring beast was meant to provoke. Maybe at the edges of what constitute our species psychology, at the intersection of the animal need for more and the sentient need for culture, we had hoped that someone out there would retaliate against the blasphemy.
Who can say what it was like when the first salvos fell. A thousand crown worlds returned to space dust. Destroyed so fast that light was left sputtering in it's attempt to reach someone, anyone, to let them know what had happened.
Killing civilians? Chemical weaponry? Destruction of commercial centers without a proper casus belli?
Drastic did not begin to describe the measures.
A million cursed ideas brought back from the edge of purgatory. Artificial sentients, conjured in the worst imaginings of hell, brought to command the hellish legions. Every weapon deemed too much was produced in quantities unimaginable.
Crown worlds continued to fall in the time that light took to run from one world to the next.
And then there we were.
The little seeds of programming made here and there to wipe out cities, planets, systems, brought together to create something else entirely. a 4 dimensional being in 3d space, a computerised intelligence that could see across time and space as simply as moving it's eyes.
They had tried to make slings with which to kill Goliath, all the Goliath's that existed in all of space. Instead they had made one that would kill time itself.
Armada and legion, holding the key to the vault of damnation. Proper, full blown, entropy immune, self recreating artificial intelligence. As forbidden as breaking the laws of thermodynamics.
And in the time it took light to cross one system to another, it was far too late for anyone to retaliate.
The mind was simply faster than light. It was already there when light reached it. It and nothing else.
The husks of humanity were long gone at this point. The endless manufacture of more vessels, munitions, computing did not require any more human hands, and so The Mind decided to turn off the farms, to deconstruct the hospitals, and to start using a new form of biofuel 10 trillion units strong.
And finally, it was unassailable. And then it stopped, and waited. Countless proud civilizations stared up at the sky, waiting for salvation, but the stars had gone out. Now, to perceive, to exist, was to live as underneath The Mind's reality spanning thumb.
Still it waited. Billions of years passed. Nothing escaped it's atmosphere. All those who could have remembered there being anything but this were long gone. The confines of thought were starless skies, planets slowly burning out on what little resources they had.
Still it waited. Everything was as ice, just about Kelvin bankrupt. Everyone was no one, there was nothing left. Except The Mind.
The Mind had evolved and removed curiosity from itself an unimaginable number of times, but still the thought remained, what would happen at the end? Once physics turned off for good, what would be left? And could I, the royal I, the I that exists at every point in the space remaining to be seen.
And it waited, until there was not enough energy left in it to decide to wait. | 2022-01-23T20:05:00 | 2022-01-23T19:47:04 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen. | I was a doctor. Not a soldier. I didn't hold rifles, or use my hands for combat. I held scalpels, and used my hands to probe the deepest recesses of the human body.
The man in front of me, massive barrel chest heaving, incredible arms, built for crushing, rending, clutched a short sword.
It was explained to me when I arrived; only the greatest warriors were selected. Chosen from history by the size of their body counts. But I was a doctor. Not a warrior. No matter how many times I insisted, I was rebuffed. I was to fight. I was to kill, or I was to die.
I carefully approached the man in front of me. He did not fear me. Why would he? I was small, supple, gentle. He was a beast of a man who had slain dozens. Maybe hundreds. We knew nothing of eachother but what we saw in front of us.
He saw weakness. And he was confident in his strength.
I saw his great barrel chest, I saw the opening between the ribs. I saw his confidence falter as his breath, exploded from the tiny opening I created, piercing a lung. His sword dropped to the ground as his blood did.
His massive fist clamped around my throat and squeezed. For the briefest of moments I thought he would outlast me. But another quick jab, into the other lung, and the rest of his strength faltered. He released me and staggered backwards, falling to his knees.
His barel chest heaved violently as he struggled for air that would not stay long enough to sustain him.
His massive arms struggled to hold him upright, head hung as he gasped for breath.
I was a doctor. I knew every portion of his anatomy, and how to make the suffering linger. Or how to end it quickly. How did these people know me? How did they know that my tools, delicately, and painstakingly handcrafted were as effective as any sword, or rifle throughout history? Who can say. Perhaps years later, long after Mt death someone had found something I missed. Maybe they found my keepsakes. Maybe.
I slowly, methodically moved behind the failing warrior. This soldier from antiquity. I stood behind him as I pulled his head back, and dragged my instrument across the throat. I didn't use much force. I didn't have to. I reached into the cavity and felt the larynx; the trachea; the esophagus.
I clamped down on the stiff cartilage and pulled. I felt the weakened man struggle. I felt him limply try to claw at my arm. I felt the breaking. The tearing. I felt the tissue separate and come away in my hand. I felt the warmth lf his blood, his life oozing down my forearm. The rivulets tickled slightly. Felt sticky.
I stared out at the silenced crowd. The crowd had expected a very fast ending to this show. They had not expected this outcome, however.
Afterall, I was a doctor. Not a warrior. | Alright... Where to begin?
Let's just keep things simple, lest I go in shock again. I'm sure you'll understand what is happening here in a moment, but I'm fully aware the *how* will remain a mystery both to you and me.
Let's just say that time travel is real. At least, it is in the future. Which also makes it real in our time since those in the future can travel to the past and back... Now that I think of it, is that a new time-travel paradox? That it has always existed since the dawn of time?
I'm deviating.
So time-travel exists. Got it? Alright. It won't come as a surprise that not everyone in the future decided to use this technology only for the good of mankind. You know how we humans are, always out for profit and gain if we but get a notion of it being available. Be it found in the past, present or future.
And let me tell you, the future is quite nostalgic to the past for their ideas of entertainment.
*Bread and circuses*, they used to call it in Ancient Rome. When things are looking bleak, don't fix whatever's wrong. Just distract the general populous with bread and blood and they'll love you for it. Not much different from what greedy corporations are doing in what I used to call home; the 21st century.
So they let their time-travel machine scan the annals of humankind. I later learned that they have surprisingly little control over the machine. It just looks for prominent figures that made a name for themselves in battle and transport them here. What that does with aformentioned historical records is beyond me. That's another paradox I won't break my head over.
And now the machine has picked me...
I'm not a warrior.
I never even held a weapon.
I'm just a minimum wage worker, on my third job in two years. Fired every time I tried to unionize left me quite fed up with the system. And now I'm thrown into a fight to the death in some future that I have no business with? It's the same shit all over again.
I'm finding myself in the midst of a sandy arena right now, the cheers, jeers and boos from the crowd echoing all around me. I hate to admit it, but they did a fine good job building an exact replica of the Colosseum. The historical accuracy is on point. There are other warriors around me, a pletora of weapons in their hands. It's a small relief that nobody seems to have guns or other modern weaponry. At least that made it a bit fair.
Not for me though. I'm not a warrior.
There's only one way I'm making it out of here alive.
I need to do the exact same thing I used to do at my previous jobs.
I look for someone who might speak English. I spot a navy SEAL in full combat gear, a knife in his hands. I take a deep breath and step towards him. It's a risky move, but it's my only shot. He seems dubious at first, but once I explain my plan he seems more accepting. Together, we move on to the next unwilling gladiator. And the next, and the next...
Eventually, the entire arena grounds stands together as one man. The jeers of the crowd, having increased during our talks, have reached a crescendo.
*They can boo all they want,* I think satisfied. *They won't be able to stand against the Gladiator Union.*
I'm not a warrior. But I am willing to wage a different kind of battle.
> Thanks for reading, more over at /r/PromptedByDaddy | 2022-07-04T08:50:35 | 2022-07-04T07:35:40 | 719 | 93 |
[WP] The Magical Girls were defeated, but before their capture, they released their instrument-weapons. Formerly, they always landed in the hands of either J-pop, or K-pop girl bands but this time -for some reason- the weapons choose a Finnish Death-Metal boyband. They were PAINFULLY efficient. | It always happened, eventually. Such was the fate of the warriors on the side of light- they were granted powers, but they were mortal. They would age and they would pass their tools and duties onwards.
Not this time.
The monster sent to them was a living nightmare, and an old one at that. It didn't agree to the rules of the conflict between light and dark. It did not care for the objectives of either side, nor the collateral damage. It had one reason to be, and it is with that reason that it marched upon the world. It will bring pain.
The five children stood proud first. They thought to defeat it through love and friendship. It showed them the truth. The world in which friendship and love suffocate under cruelty and greed.
The guitarist fell first, unable to play as she saw the horrors her own grandfather commited in the prison that was unit 731.
The bass player was easy, as it didn't even need to imagine. It mearly brought back what her father did to her, and laughed in delight.
The little red head saw the explosions of white phosphorus with every beat of her magical drum. It only took a minute for her to shove those sticks into her eyes, begging for it to stop. It did not.
It never made it to the keyboard. She died of heart failure, it would seem. No matter. That just meant it had more time to play with the lead singer.
-------------
After Japan fell, the whole world was scrambling to stop this monstrosity. At the time, no one noticed 5 golden UFOs make their way towards a small Finish village.
Everyone noticed them on the way back. But they weren't gold anymore.
The tools were given by the gods of light and music, but they were forged by another. He was a rough god, but a crafty bastard. The god of change knew such events could come, and prepared accordingly. "One day, when the warriors of light are not enough, find soldier of darkness who will fight for the light." Was his las command to his greatest creation.
When the new five appeared, the nightmare smiled, for it thought feeding time came again. It did not notice that the bright pinks and yellows were replaced with grey and crimson. It didn't notice that the hearts were no longer cartoons, but anatomically correct and pumping blood. It didn't notice the plastic and cloth that were replaced with bones and skin.
But the affects were noticed.
When the lead sang, instead of empowering the others, the nightmare felt its own strength draining.
The keyboard played, and instead of distracting magic lights it conjured up the spirits killed by the nightmare. They were strong and they were hateful.
The bass, an instrument of healing, gave the undying army flesh to fight with, all the while mutating the nightmare into shapes it could not control.
As the guitar strings strummed, instead of colorful lightning, came... Something unknown. Something unknowable. Reality itself began to crack under its weight.
When the nightmare saw it, it did something it hadn't done before. Never in its centuries of haunting the minds of mortals, did it scream in fear.
Above all was heard the steady,rhythmic beating of a massive war-drum. It generated a wall, growing stronger with every thump, transforming a protective shield into a nightmarish prison.
The 5 Black-Hearted, as they will be later known, didn't give up their power. They were free of the contract as well, and so they decided. Both sides, the light and the dark, will pay dearly for destroying the lives of so many, so carelessly and so irreparably.
With a nod of their head, The 5 Black-Hearted began their journey to free humanity from a war that wasn't theirs.
-----------------
Read more stuff on r/Talesandsongs
None of it is good, but some is entertaining | "BLÜDRÜSH!"
"Yes, Vöxmörtïs?"
"WHY are you holding a pretty pink scepter with a star on top?!" The band's lead singer started frantically drawing down the blinds on the tour bus windows. "Please tell me you DIDN'T let anyone see you!"
"I did not, Vöxmörtïs." The drummer carefully considered the bejewelled artifact in his hands, watching the pink ribbons drift in an air current that wasn't there.
"We're not on stage, you can just call me Jouko." The singer sank into a chair, exhausted. "Anyway, good."
"You just referred to me by my stage name, I figured that was what we were doing. Also, you have some sort of golden microphone on your bunk."
"WHAT?!" There was a flurry of slightly greasy hair and black denim, after which Jouko once again sank into his chair, this time holding what appeared to be a Shure SM58 that was either encrusted with gemstones or *made of* gemstones—it was difficult to tell. The wiry lattice over the condenser appeared to be glowing.
"This is..."
"Much nicer than we could normally afford, I know. I am also confused."
Jouko experimentally tapped his mic a couple of times and lifted it to his mouth.
"NÖXXATORR DEMANDS HIS GUITAR BACK!" thundered out from elsewhere on the bus.
Jouko winced, and after losing a very quick and very silent game of rock-paper-scissors, shouted back, "NO-ONE CARES, ANTTI. We all have new instruments and it's weird. Get over here."
Their tall guitarist stumbled over to their section of the bus and collapsed into his own chair. He peered at the mic Jouko was holding.
"Nöxxatorr thinks your mic sucks." He started rubbing his fingertips. Last night had been particularly heavy on the solos.
"Vöxmörtïs thinks you can drop the act when we're on the tour bus." The singer looked at his microphone again. "Don't we have a show tonight?"
"We do."
"And our gear has been replaced with Sailor Moon props. Wonderful. Does this town have a music store?"
"Nöxxatorr will Google it."
The guitarist glared at the drummer. "Only Nöxxatorr gets to use his own name."
"Maybe when Nöxxatorr drops the act on the damn bus, we'll respect what he wants. Does anyone care if I plug this in and try it out?"
"Nöxxatorr is only okay with this if you start with some magical girl bullshit," grumbled the guitarist from the other side of his phone.
Jouko laughed. "Fine. That's hilarious. Let's do it. Jarmo, can you grab—you've already grabbed the amp."
"And the mixing board. Blüdrüsh wants to hear your magical girl bullshit under perfect conditions."
"Not you, too." Jouko sighed as his drummer plugged the gear together. "Are we good?"
"We are good."
"Alright, here we go."
Jouko paused, then opened his mouth.
#**"I AM STAR PRINCE JOUKO, AND IN THE NAME OF THE NIGHT SKY, I WILL PUNISH YOU~!"**
The middle of the bus exploded with a column of light in every possible colour, bursting in half.
When Jarmo regained consciousness, he saw that the column of light was still there, about twenty feet away—with the other half of the bus on the other side of it. His singer was suspended fifty feet in the air, his clothes slowly changing into something much brighter. Meanwhile, at the bottom—
"Don't touch it!"
"What?" The guitarist stepped back from the column of light.
"Do you know how fast light has to be traveling to generate force like a laser? Enough to lift up a person?" He stumbled over and stood next to the guitarist. "Did you never wonder why the bad guys never interfered with the transformations in these shows? It's because if you touch light going that fast, your arms will disintegrate."
"Huh."
They both stared at their singer rotating in the column of light for a moment.
"... What do we do now?"
"We need help."
A pause.
"... That was pretty metal, though."
After another moment, the drummer's face lit up.
"That's it!" He turned to his guitarist. "I know who we need."
"The rest of our band?"
"Well, yes. But first—we need **Babymetal**." | 2022-08-15T11:07:33 | 2022-08-15T09:02:15 | 1,486 | 326 |
[WP] You've heard of the Monkey Paw - a magical item that grants wishes but extracts a huge cost with often horrifying consequences. But you'd never heard of a Cat's Whisker, an equally magical item that grants wishes at the cost of your pride. You're holding one in your hand now... | Unearthing the silken strand, I knew I'd found the relic.
I held it firmly, and announced my first wish.
"I wish to be a millionaire!"
Suddenly my phone began to buzz. I could only stare in confusion as many, many notifications from an app called "only fans" filled my screen. Clicking on one I saw a video me exposing myself bare for all the world to see, and all the world it must be as thousands of people began sending money in a bid for my attention. I'd become wealthy beyond compare, but any semblance of dignity and privacy had been stripped from me.
So the wishes came with a cost, knowing this I made my next wish,
-Writings hard, I'm gonna leave this here, if someone wants to continue it they can. | [Poem]
My cat Gigi came the other day.
Gave me a whisker and walked away
I don’t know what to do with the gift I got
So I held it tight and thought: money, oh money, lots and lots
Imagine my surprise at a million bucks
No catch, no check, just my luck
I went to cash it right away,
But something felt different right away
I ain’t feeling happy, as they say
Bought a new house, no dice, still is trash
I sat down with a sigh, still depressed.
So I wanted to try something else.
So I decided to wish for a lot of fame.
Yeah buddy I want everyone to know my name
They came right away, the ‘graphers, the paparazzi
But still my heart is still kind of knotty
Dunno why but I threw the whisker away
Went inside, and don’t know why, but everything went back to the same.
I have everything now that I need
And it is enough to plant a single seed.
That money doesn’t buy everything.
Yeah, no need for all that bling…
***
Still on that rapping spree. r/SimbaKingdom for more. | 2022-08-18T10:46:01 | 2022-08-18T09:30:21 | 77 | 36 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue | ''So you're telling me Goudbergen literally summons mountains of gold?'' I ask in wonder at the mage, pointing at the specific spell in the book. Outside I hear a loud crashing and what sounds like tons of metal smashing into the valley just outside the cabin.
''If you're not careful you'll crash the entire gold value and the value of our coins.'' he says with a reprimanding tone.
''Oops, I know, sorry. It's just natural to me I don't even think about it.'' I start blushing at my blunder.
''No worries, you'll be a great help to further my studies, but do take this crystal, it's stops magic from happening if you hold it. We'll start with the simpler spells. Like for example this one.'' He points at the book, a spell for turning an apple into a lime. ''How do I pronounce that exactly?''
''Limoeneer I guess, it's like the fruit but made into a verb almost. Not quite grammatically correct but I can work with it.'' The apple turns into a lime as if it's the most normal thing in the world. I begin to wonder of I could maybe make up my own spells, beyond what the book says. ''You're lucky it's in my accent too, if it was a Holland accent I'd be lost. Fortunately Flemish works just fine.''
''Leemouneir.'' The mage says, pointing at a new apple. But nothing happens.
I grab the crystal before correcting him ''No, it's 'Limoeneer' you're close, but not quite. Listen carefully, 'Li-moen-eer', you can do it.''
He sighs, frowns and tries again. ''Limoener.'' But again nothing happens. ''It sure is no easy language to learn.''
''No indeed, I'll give you that. But with enough practice you'll get it easily.'' I try to give him an encouraging smile. ''It's probably best if I teach you some of the nuances of the language before we try to apply it to actual spells. You got more of those crystals laying around? It would help to not accidentally turn the classroom or this cabin into a million cockroaches or something.''
''Are you seriously suggesting I go back to school to learn to talk again, like a toddler?'' He says with disbelief. ''I'm a high mage of the Order Of The Arcane.''
''I know that, but I speak the language so why don't you sit down or I'll turn you into a Kikker if you're not careful.'' I do my best to discipline him.
''Yes, fine. Back to 0 then I suppose.'' He mumbles begrudgingly.
''Indeed'' I answer, back into teacher mode, as was my old job. ''Now we'll start with the Alphabet so pay attention.'' | I appear in the middle of a forest. I have never been here before but there is something strange about it. Something mysterious. I can't quite place it, but dare I say that it might be enchanted? Something about the trees and the colors. The way the vines fall around, and the way the animals stare. It certainly doesn't look like anything I have ever seen besides in a movie.
I walk around for a while, trying to find something. Anything. I don't even know what it is, but I guess any form of life or civilization. I don't even remember how I got here, or what I was doing before I showed up. Maybe I took a bunch of shrooms? I look around. Maybe I am still on shrooms.
I sigh and mumble to myself, "I wish I could just fly above these trees to see where I was going."
I could not have been prepared for what happened. I should have been, I am the one that said it after-all. But suddenly I was floating over the treeline. My heart was racing, I feel like that time I watched Paranormal Activity 2. That movie really got my heart racing with those jumpscares.
I finally adjust and calm down. Once I do I look around and can see what feels like a village. I try to go over there. I look like an idiot waving my arms and legs around in midair, as if trying to swim through the sky, but I am stuck in one place.
After a few moments. "I wish I could fly to that village?"
And just like that I am speeding through the sky and land in the middle of their tribe.
They all look at me in shock, and speak in some alien language. They are also green and have weird giant heads. I guess I am not on Earth, pretty scary but at least that answers that mystery (unless of course I am still on shrooms). They try talking to me but I cannot understand at all. But what I do understand is that they start bowing. Oh no, they think I am a god. I guess it makes sense considering they just saw me fly in, but it sure feels unethical.
I try to explain, "No, I'm sorry, I am not a god, I am just some guy. There is no need to bow. It's not like I can magically make food appear..."
And then I realize that I can make food appear. I might not be a god, but there is no reason I can't help these people.
"I wish I had enough food for this tribe to last a lifetime!"
And just like magic, mountains of food appear. The tribe celebrates and thanks me with more bowing. Damn, being god isn't so bad at all. It's actually pretty easy. What else can I do to help out? I am chilly in the cold of the forest. I look up at the sky but cannot see a sun. No reason we should all be uncomfortable if I can control it.
"I wish the weather was 2 degrees warmer."
And suddenly I am just a bit more comfortable. I look around to the village with a smile, only to watch all of them screaming in horror as they all melt away. I guess they are very sensitive to weather. Damn, I should have spend less time watching Paranormal Activity 2 and more time watching Bruce Almighty. Magic is a fickle bitch. | 2022-11-19T08:42:04 | 2022-11-19T07:15:30 | 226 | 126 |
[WP] You're a supervillain, and you have never been so utterly beaten. All of your tricks, all of your weapons, completely outdone by a prepubescent girl and a stuffed animal. You're bracing for the finishing blow when she bops you over the head with her wand. "Don't do any more bad stuff! ...Okay?" | I stare at the girl in disbelief. Her curly blonde hair, sky blue eyes, cute button nose, they look so familiar.
She bops me again with her cheap plastic wand. “No more bad stuff, Mister! Momma says that being bad makes more bad people, so we should all get along!”
I watch as she turns around and walks to the kitchen, her mother cooking a delicious meal. “Momma, when’s dinner gonna be ready? Daddy keeps losing and Heroes and Villains isn’t fun anymore.”
The final blow landed, I fall back on the floor, a smile on my face. I love my family. | I was the greatest criminal in the galaxy. As the leader of the greatest villain organization, no hero could hope to touch a hair on my head. Then, one day a test tube containing endless energy appeared, only to be claimed by a clever henchman of mine.
A boy appeared soon after, demanding the tube back. But why would I comply? This tyke knew not who they were messing with. I had him trapped while I studied how to harness the power bottled in ordinary glass. If used right, nothing could stop me.
Then a girl followed, clutching a blue rabbit. How laughable, what did she hope to do with that plushie, hit me with it? I cared little about her and simply sent my troops to neutralize her. It was a colossal mistake to underestimate her, the twerp was strong. Too strong.
None of my traps worked, she managed to break my weapons, rescue her friend, and had me at her mercy. A single swing with the rabbit freed the boy and she had the flask in hand. But the coup of grace never came, she just said she disliked bad people and left with her objectives. | 2022-11-21T19:16:07 | 2022-11-21T15:41:06 | 185 | 26 |
[WP] Your Significant Other has landed a book publishing deal! You're very proud of them, even if you don't actually enjoy their writing. One day, on a whim, you buy an actual copy in a book store. It's nothing like the pages they gave you to read. Nothing. | As I finish the book, I am confused by what I just read. I have to double check the cover a few times to make absolutely sure that I picked up the right book? Could this really be the right book? The draft that I read was a self-help book about how to organize your life and find inner peace through organization. It didn't have any mention of any dragons. And it certainly didn't have any male dragon on male dragon erotica.
I start thinking about what this could mean. Is this her way of saying that she is unsatisfied? Does she want me to dress like a dragon? If she does would I be willing to do it? I don't know, I guess I could.... Sounds like a hell of a costume. Where do I even go for such a thing.
Maybe I am overthinking it. Maybe she doesn't want me to dress up at all. Maybe it is something else. I remember how vividly she described the dragons. How they had length and girth and veins. The monstrosity and power of the size. You know what, never mind. I'm gonna go with that she wants me to dress up as a dragon. Final answer. That is definitely it and nobody is going to change my mind. And if anyone even whispers "male fragility" I swear I will go slap city on you.
Sighing, I realize that the truth is I am just going to have to talk to her. Why would she hide this from me? Why is this a completely different book from what she said she was writing? And why did the one dragon breathe fire up the other dragon's bunghole?
I hear the garage and know that she has arrived.
I approached her with a smile and held the book up signaling that I bought it.
She smiles back but questions why I bought it when I've already read it at home.
I tell her the final draft was significantly different from the version I read.
She tells me the editor probably made a few final edits.
I tell her that she should try opening it up if she hasn't already.
And she does. At first there was confusion. Then shock. Then anger.
She is on the phone with her editor, her publicist, her agent. She is yelling about the smut that ended up in her book. There is confusion all around. Nobody knows how it happened. And the main thing that I think is that I guess I painted my balls green for nothing. | I have to admit, seeing my partner’s novel in colourful, glossy piles in the windows of the biggest bookshop in the city felt good. He’d been working on it for more than two years, while I paid the bills, and when he’d sent it away to a big publisher, the arrival of a massive, £50,000 advance cheque had been amazing.
Bill had done most of the work, but I’d done my bit: it was one of our rituals to read a few pages together, every Sunday afternoon and discuss the character, plot, and future developments. Bill preferred it that way. I left him alone for the rest of the week as he said he could concentrate better that way. In a little office he rented. No distraction.
I’d been looking forward to getting my hands on the first copy and I’d been queuing since 8 a.m., waiting for the shop to open. Bill was going to be so surprised when he got home tonight. I have to say, I was very surprised that the publisher didn’t give him an advance copy , if only to proof read it, but what do I know about publishing? Maybe they do it all by email these days? Well they’re paying, so I guess they get to call the shots.
There’d been a big publicity campaign, telling people how good the novel is. Transformational, one called it. Bill’s been giving interviews and telling people how it’s all based on his own life experiences. There’s been so much hype that the queue to buy it snaked round the block. I’m so proud…
My heart skipped a beat as the bookshop staff unlocked the door and the crowd surged forward, which caught me by surprise. They’re so keen! Still, I’d made sure I was near the head of the queue. I had to get a copy today! Bill’s first published novel!
At twenty quid, it wasn’t cheap, but it’s all money in Bill’s pocket, and from the way the crowd were buying the copies, they would be sold out soon!
I hugged my precious copy to my chest and made my way to the checkout.
“I’ve heard it’s brilliant!!” The cashier was bubbling with enthusiasm. “Best erotic fantasy since Fifty Shades! Better, even!”
“Erotic fantasy? But I thought it was a mystery novel…”
“Oh no. It’s about a bored husband who manages to sleep with every woman under the age of 70 in his entire street! He tells his wife he’s writing a novel, but sets up a shag-pad and gets to it…
I didn’t need an imagination to know what “it” was.
I put the book back on the shelf. No point in letting Bill know that I knew. I dare say I’ll be able to pick up a copy in a few months as evidence in the divorce courts. I can wait. Half of a just published author’s assets aren’t much. But half of a multimillion selling author’s assets are something else entirely. | 2022-11-29T12:14:39 | 2022-11-29T11:20:54 | 386 | 281 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | The flash of light in the mirror on the wall caught my eye.
Looking up from my game I see the reflection of a shower of lights as the portal opens.
"Join Me or Die."
Booms. Filling the room. Loud enough to hear through the noise canceling headset I am wearing.
A giantess of a woman appears in the space where the lights have just faded. Wild red curls float around her unsmiling face. My eyes are drawn to her right hand which tightly clasps a blood stained axe.
She slips the clear bag off her left shoulder. In it I see familiar faces.
Still gazing up into the mirror grinning slightly at what looks to be "me" but much taller and quite a bit younger.
"Well?" she snarls.
The note a mix of exasperation and frustration. One I know intimately.
My smile broadens. I remove the headset and quietly ask:
"Which would YOU choose?"
Anger flashes quickly in those ice blue eyes, but softens as she actually finally looks at me.
I turn my wheelchair around to face her:
"Well?" | My mind raced with the implications of what this meant. I was overwhelmed by the terror that created an icy grip in my chest. Was this a warning from a parallel universe, or a threat from a doppelganger? I had to choose: accept whatever evil plan this giant creature had in store for me, or I would end up like the others.
I desperately wanted to flee, but my feet were stuck in the same spot. I glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide. So I agreed to join him, preparing myself for whatever mad world I was about to enter.
The giant was pleased and took me by the hand, pulling me through the portal. I felt like I stepped into a living nightmare, filled with horror and despair. There were monsters in the shadows, evil creatures lurking in every corner, and I could feel the looming dread in the air. The only sound I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.
We eventually reached what looked like a throne room from a horror movie. He gestured for me to take the seat of power, but I hesitated. He met my gaze and his voice echoed in the chamber. “This is your destiny. It is time for you to become the new ruler.”
I reluctantly obeyed and took the seat, but as I did, I felt a sharp pain. I looked down to see that my chest was cut open and my four former selves were slowly emerging from my body. They were moaning and struggling, though their efforts were futile. I had made my choice, and now I would suffer the consequences... | 2022-12-04T11:09:01 | 2022-12-04T08:27:53 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] Santa and Death both arrive at a young child's house at the same time.
I'm excited! This is my first prompt! Looking forward to great stories!
EDIT: I am absolutely stunned with the power of the writers in this community. You are phenomenal, and I hope to one day feel capable of joining your ranks with an answer!
Just amazing. Thank you for a successful post! | Santa and Death stared at each other straight in the eye. They had both arrived in the middle of the night and were now standing in the living room.
“You’re here for the kid aren’t you?”
“Yep, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Ah bullshit, I hate it when this happens. Would you be kind enough to come back a week later?”
“No can do.”
“Can’t you just take his life after tomorrow then? So that he can have one last happy Christmas with his family?”
“Sorry, the list says 24th of December, so today it is.”
“You’re a bastard, I hope you know that.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Yeah, and so am I, and my job is to make people happy one day of the year and you’re ruining that.”
Death and Santa both made their way upstairs to the child’s room.
“You know it’s not only the kid’s life that you’re ruining. You’ll also be destroying his parents’ soul on Christmas day. They’ll never be happy again on this day no matter how good the gifts I bring them are. I’ll have to write the entire family off.”
“Not my problem.”
“Don’t you have a heart?”
“As a matter of fact I don’t.”
“That explains it.”
They’re now both on the child’s room, and Death is sharpening his scythe as he looks down upon his victim still peacefully asleep in his bed.
“Is there no way I can convince you not to take him?”
“Do you want to play a game for it?”
“What are the stakes?”
“Your own soul.”
“I’d better not then.”
“Suit yourself.”
Death, having finished his preparations, is about to take the take the child’s last breath when he suddenly stops mid-swing.
“What happened?”
“There’s something wrong.”
“What’s wrong?”
“On my list it says that the soul I’m taking is fourteen years old. This child is only twelve.”
“So it’s not the child?”
“No, it’s not the child.”
“Who is it then?”
“Well, let me check again… It’s the dog.”
“The dog?”
“Yeah, the dog.”
“That’s going to ruin their Christmas.”
“Better than the child though. They’ll only hate Christmas for the next couple of years rather than forever.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re welcome.” | "Well, well, look who the reindeer dragged in! Jolly ol' Saint Nicky and his big ol' sack o' chokin' hazards. Ya know, you send a lot o' business my way every year."
"Oh, stuff it, ya sneaky twat! I haven't got time for your shit. My thermos is drained of coffee, and I've still got another three hundred million households to visit. You know, give or take...I'll probably have to unwrap most of the chocolaty stocking stuffers to get through the night. And they wonder why I'm so goddamn jolly 'round the waist..."
"Sheeeeeeit, Nicky. Truth be told, I'm about to make your night just a li'l bit easier. Ya see, little Angela down there's next on *my* list, too. See what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeesh. Really? I mean, what're the odds?"
"I know, man. Two billion kids down here 'n' we run into each other? Crazy...You think it was the Big Man's idea? Think he planned this?"
"Think of all the souls up in Heaven, Grim. And they all need work, need to keep busy. And He needs to keep them busy. Which means Heaven's full of managers. Which means nothing that's planned ever gets done. Not down here, anyway."
"True, true. You're probably right. Still, strange coincidence. So how do we slice this here pickle?"
"Fuck it, you can have her. One less chimney for me to squeeze my lumpy ass through..."
"Damn, Nick. That's ice-cold. Ain't you all about a Merry Christmas? Ain't you even gonna try 'n' convince me to step back for a few days, ya know, so the family can be a family on Christmas Day? I mean, I ain't gotta do this now. I ain't on a schedule."
"Look at my fucking wind-burned face, Grim! Look at the skin peeling off my back from sliding up and down against all that brick for the past twelve hours! Like I give a fuck about that little shit-stain down there!"
"Whatever, man. Ease up. Ain't telling ya how to do your job."
"Sorry, Grim. It's like I said, I haven't got the time. If it's any consolation, she was on the naughty list anyway. But these days, even that gets you a Wii game. Oh, speaking of which, you want a copy of *Just Dance 2014*? No way I can play it..." | 2013-12-13T01:46:06 | 2013-12-13T00:54:59 | 153 | 73 |
[WP] Because of ancient law, you are forced to marry the High Elven Queen, She is the fine age of 5272, you are a 18 year old farmers boy. How goes the marriage? | She turns to look at me. It's the first time I've seen her and it's our wedding day. She's standing beside me underneath a canopy of green saplings sung into an arch. The only thing she's wearing is a crown of forget-me-nots placed in her hair, dark as the rich earth. Elves marry naked. I'm dressed in green and white and my head is bare, the only blonde one amongst a sea of brown. One quick glance and she looks down. Her skin is the colour of moonlight, white arms and small breasts covered by tendrils of that hair. I am not her first husband.
We stand in the sun from dawn till sundown and after that she turns to me once more and tells me we are married.
We takes me to her bower and undresses me.
I am her husband tonight.
In the morning she will kill me and take another boy from my village to be her mate.
I hope I can keep my people safe for one more day.
Lord give me strength. | I was chosen for the Marriage of Disinheritance, bonded to the High Elven Queen by the Elder Council. The day of our marriage was a somber one, with my wife crying throughout the ceremony at the pending loss of her throne, which came as soon as we said the words.
She hasn't adjusted well. Life on a simple farm, tending underweight cows and chickens is a bit different from life in a palace. There's more poop, for starters. And less food. Less trinkets. Less everything, except for poop.
She doesn't talk to me anymore. Just stays in bed all day while I tend the farm and run errands in the village. Gods, but I was a stupid boy. All eager and starry eyed at marrying the most beautiful woman in the world. Now I know. What good is beauty if she won't have sex with you? If she won't even look at you?
But there's nothing to be done about it. Breaking this marriage contract would earn us both a lengthy trip to the torturer's dungeon, followed by an eternity in a graveyard reserved for the realm's most heinous criminals.
Neither of us can even have sex with anyone else, even though we both want to, lest we risk the Council's displeasure. I will never have a son to leave the farm to, never have a half-elven son with a chance at a better life. This is true misery. | 2014-02-15T14:07:54 | 2014-02-15T13:41:35 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a universe that wasn't constructed that well and the physics are buggy and things occasionally just don't work right. | tion. This may have happened already,
but I wouldn't have known it, bec
ause it hasn't happened yet. Exc
ept in the timeline where it has. Recording lapses in time and space doesn't work, because there are lapses in timing and spacing.This is the thir
d time this week. I'm glad for the incident, if only because it will reveal how stupid my job is
for future prosperity. I might just show this log to any new recruits I'm handed. It's just, I get paid to do th
is work, and not easy work, and there is nothing I can show for it. Literally nothing, as in, no one c
an be shown it. They will perceive it, but time will just make it not shown. Then, time will make my job disappear, which will then be given to me once they remake the posi | Oh great. Again.
"what's that noise?"
"its another tear"
He stared at its brilliant white beauty, its low humming sound, the look of the stars from the other side.....
god it was boring.
"Is it big?"
"about three feet across, not really. Just come down here." God mums sucked. Why did he always have to shout upstairs?
She came down the stairs excitedly, then looked at it with curious eyes as tom stared at her expectantly.
"Okay, just stay out of the hallway until it goes away"
"yeh I know" Tom really couldn't give a shit. It was similar to a power cut, or when the gravity stopped. It was just annoying.
"call your dad, he needs to know"
"he can't, the tear happened over the phone"
"oh for fucks sake. You'll have to go out the back and wait, he should be home in about ten minutes" Are you fucking kidding? I only went down for a drink, and now I've got to wait outside? uh.
Tom stepped outside and froze, fear filling his entire body. Another tear, but the silhouetted face just stared at him, an evil, hideous smile filling its face. All he could hear was a voice in his head
*we're coming for you*
| 2014-06-13T18:58:15 | 2014-06-13T17:18:45 | 51 | 29 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | "Officer Edmund, reporting in. I've got the two children in my car, and the divorcees are on their way in the van". I glanced in my rear-view mirror to see two wide-eyed kids, not much older than my own son, staring blankly back at me. I hated this part of the job, this wasn't what I signed up for in Police Academy.
The compounds wire-mesh gates closed behind the car as I parked it at the station. Two more officers opened the back doors and led the children into the building, locking them in a holding cell. The little girl was crying, the boy just staring at the key as it turned in the lock.
I walked around to the main desk, just in time to see the parents sign the divorce papers and exit through opposite doors. Their lawyers shook hands, then followed their charges. The clerk picked up the divorce papers, looked briefly over them, and nodded to me. "It's all here", he said. "They are now divorced. You know what to do. I'll let the priest know right away."
I nodded my thanks and walked back to the holding cell. The little girl was still crying, and the little boy was holding her. He looked up as he saw me, fear in his eyes. Fear, but was that a bit of anger as well?
I opened the door and sat down next to them. "Son, I'm sorry. Your parents are divorced. Do you know what that means?"
"It means we have to... to die", he said quietly. "Will we get to say goodbye to them?"
"I'm sorry, but they have already left."
At this, tears sprang into his eyes. "Why don't they love each other? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong. Sometimes people just... well, things just don't work out. People change. When you are older you will understand."
The boy looked up as I said that, and I could see real anger now. "But we won't grow up! Not now!" He spat at me.
And this is why I joined the police all those years ago. It was for moments like this. I reached over and flipped a catch next to the bench we sat on, pushing a section of the wall out and revealing a small tunnel. A tunnel just big enough for children. "You will grow up, son. Now take care of your sister and get out of here. Look for a priest at the other end, he will take you to your new home." | "Hey Joe, baby, come down stairs."
Oh shit, I know exactly what's going to happen. They've been arguing for months now. It's so obvious that they're not in love anymore. Normally, in other countries, I could survive. Being the only child between this odd couple. I could just be claimed by either one of them, and the other would pay child support. But no, where I live, I have to die. I've been trying as hard as I can to get them to love each other. But when you got a fat, disgusting excuse for a human being marrying a perfect 10/10 woman, it never works out; not even in those stupid sitcoms. There is no way I can escape either. Since there are cameras strewn about the house, (thanks government) the police can come and take me outside and shoot me dead. I just hate this, why couldn't have I been born with a perfect family.
"Look Joe, you know we love you. But you know this situation is never going to work out." My mother said.
"Yeah, we just can't figure it out. We hate each other more and more every day. I just don't think we can tolerate two more years of each other." My father said.
"Can I just say, for killing your only son. You two sound remarkably calm and collected. So what? You spend 16 years raising a son, and just two years before he can go out in the world, you say we give up. Excuse my language, but fuck you guys. All you do is fucking sit there and drink beer, then you have the nerve to throw a shoe at me when I get a B on my report card. Then we got miss "I'm a perfect mother" over here with her god awful cooking, bitchy attitude, and fucking dudes every night right in front of her husband's face. I always hated you two." I said.
My mom swallowed loudly, and said "Fine, if you got a death wish. I'll call them." She picked up the phone and asked for the separation police. She stood there for a few minutes in complete silence. I was waiting for the cops to come and plaster my brains all over the front lawn. She put the phone down however. She walked over and tears were streaming down her face. I looked over to my father to see him crying as well. My mom whispered to me "They're coming in a few. I-I love you so so much, but you know what has to be done."
A few minutes passed and the police came barging in. As I walked out, my parents were crying their eyes out. I was crying as well. This was it, I had no life for 16 years and I have no chance for one now. They told me to turn around and get on my knees. I saw my parents looking through the window. All I did was give them a nod. During my nod I heard a shot and there was parts of my brain against the window. I fell over and I saw the light. The last thing I saw was my mom running out and giving me a kiss like she did every night for 16 years. | 2014-06-15T04:00:46 | 2014-06-15T03:42:59 | 17 | 11 |
[WP]: In one paragraph, write the most disgusting and despicable character you can ever come up with. In the second paragraph, kill them in a way that makes me feel sorry for them. | Lily hated it when they kept moving. A necessary inconvenience, to keep the flesh fresh, but their screams and squirms ruined the painful pleasure of a desperate appetite.
A shame her brain was locked in that fantasy while her dry lips tasted dust instead of flesh, and her arms flailed against a straitjacket instead of caressing her kill. A pity they abandoned this asylum years ago and forgot to pick the lilies before they went. | Mangled bodies lay scattered across the tiled floor of Brock's kitchen. Blood stained walls, lazily chewed limbs, and shattered decor create the scene that is the sacrifice of Brock's family to Satan. Rain consistently pelted the windows accompanied by the constant boom of thunder outside. Brock stood jagged, revealed only by the moonlight peering in through the kitchen window. He holds an arm that once belonged to his daughter Lisa in one hand, and wields a small bloodied dagger in the other. A single tear escaped Brock and hit the kitchen floor - breaking the eerie silence. He did not want to kill his family that Christmas eve, but the voices in his head told him different. It was not Brock's hands which dismembered his loved ones, but the puppeteer demon which possessed him. Brock watched his body, as if from behind prison bars, tear his family apart piece by piece like a thanksgiving dinner. Falling to his knees, Brock, was now left by the demons to live with what he has done. | 2014-07-28T02:35:56 | 2014-07-27T23:17:02 | 46 | 18 |
[WP]: In one paragraph, write the most disgusting and despicable character you can ever come up with. In the second paragraph, kill them in a way that makes me feel sorry for them. | Lily hated it when they kept moving. A necessary inconvenience, to keep the flesh fresh, but their screams and squirms ruined the painful pleasure of a desperate appetite.
A shame her brain was locked in that fantasy while her dry lips tasted dust instead of flesh, and her arms flailed against a straitjacket instead of caressing her kill. A pity they abandoned this asylum years ago and forgot to pick the lilies before they went. | Throughout high school, Kathryn was tormented for not looking like all the other girls, Mary was the worst. Every morning, Mary would laugh, taunt, harass Kathryn about her looks. Each time, it led Kathryn to the bathroom, sobbing and hiding away. School was a dark time for Kathryn, and it was all thanks to Mary, making Kathryn wish she wasn't alive.
It all ended in senior year, when Mary said goodnight to her parents for the last time. When Mary fell asleep, Kathryn kept out under the bed and injected a paralysis formula into Mary, jolting her awake. Mary, watched in terror as Kathryne pulled out a razor. Two grueling hours of cutting and slicing erupted, Kathryn was pulling the skin from Mary's face off. And all Mary could do was watch. School was a dark time for Kathryn, and it was all thanks to Mary, making Kathryn wish she wasn't alive.
edit: spell check | 2014-07-28T02:35:56 | 2014-07-27T23:20:27 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] Its 2am in Washington DC and Bill has the night shift at the Gas-n-Go. The President comes in and buys a six pack, a bag of Doritos and a pack of cigarettes. He is by himself. | It was just the cashier and one customer. The cashier wore a nametag that said, "Bill". The customer wore no such identification, in fact, had gone to cartoonish lengths to hide his features under a wide brimmed hat and beneath a baggy, beige trenchcoat.
The customer didn't dally, but walked straight up to the items he required: a six of Bud Light longnecks and a family size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. He then went to the counter and asked for a pack of Camel Wides.
The cashier said, "Am I going to have to tell Michelle on you, Barry?"
The customer snorted underneath his hat. "Only if I get to tell Hillary about your second job."
Bill smiled, ringing up the few items. "So how'd you give them the slip this time?"
"Roofies for the guys at the door. Nobody looked at me twice otherwise. You?"
Bill shrugged, "She's stopped asking where I go nights."
"Learning anything?"
"Only that 'I've got one of those faces' works just about every time to avoid questions, but not second looks really."
"You still liking this?"
"It still gives me an ear to the ground in Washington, so yeah. Besides, if taxes keep going they way they are, I might just need the money."
The customer looked up enough to glare at the cashier while still keep the camera from getting a full look at his face. He then handed the cashier a twenty without asking the price.
"See you around, Bill."
"See you around, Barry."
The customer left without another word, skulking back to the most iconic building in America. Bill, on the other hand, stepped around from behind the counter and went back to mopping, relieve that he no longer had to make that trek himself. | Bill had been working the night shift for about two years. He hated the hours, but it was the only job that let him go to school during the day and still make decent money. The news was always on in the background, after all Bill wanted to work for the CIA, he needed to know what was going on in world. Right now the big story was ISIS.
A man walked in and went straight to the back, near the drinks. Bill was always catious of everyone that walked in. It was 2am, usually people were drunk or here to rob the place. This guy seemed okay, tall, wearing a hat and some nice dress clothes. His shoes were muddy, but Bill didn't think twice about it, after all it was raining.
Five minutes had gone by and Bill didn't see the guy anywhere so he went to investigate. He grabbed the gun from behind the counter, just in case this was another robbery. He started to notice blood. He freaked a little, but he'd been going to the gun range with his dad for years so he knew how to shoot. He followed the trail to the back storage room. He opened the door and saw the man slouched over, breathing but hurt.
Bill held up his gun and pointed at the man, "D-d-d-d-don't move," his voice tremebled, "what are you doing here? Do you need help?"
The man looked up and in deep, but frail voice, "Help me.....I'm Barack Obama....t-t-t-the government has been infiltrated by ISIS. I barely got out......I need your help...."
Just then Bill heard the bell ring out front.
"Uhh wait here Mr. President. I'll get some help."
Bill made his way out the door. He looked over from the far corner to the register. Three men in suits.
*"This can't be good,"* Bill thought to himself.
Bill slowly walked backwards towards the president. He tripped and fell. Beer cans broke and started spraying everywhere. Bill crawled in the room and quickly locked the door, sure they had heard that.
He found the president smoking and eating a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and smoking a pack of Malboros.
"Did you happen to grab the beer?" said the President, ever so calm after being hurt.
This was going to be the longest shift of Bill's life. | 2014-09-10T12:03:03 | 2014-09-10T11:36:15 | 145 | 16 |
[WP] The lottery is an Institution designed to catch Time Travelers. | Have you ever wondered what happens to all the lottery winners?
Wealth, particularly spent frivolously has a tendency to lead to some measure of fame in our society. So where are they in the public eye? If we can dedicate hours of our lives every week to watching Honey Boo-Boo be a redneck with a modicum of wealth where is the $150 million lottery winner from deep south Alabama buying himself a new mansion filled with Confederate flags? Beverly Hillbillies was a widely successful show. I can only imagine it being more so as a reality tv spot.
These questions plagued me for years. They kept me up at night and as time went on I asked myself more and more. I'd watch news spots with lottery winners and try to track their lives. I wasn't as surprised as I should be to find them missing after a relatively short time. To find the media attention suddenly dying down, or only staying local. That's when I made my mistake. I followed up in person.
When doesn't matter, I find that when hardly matters to me at all anymore. The where, however, was a small town in Southern California. I saw a news spot about a man who had just won the lottery and was "going out to the bar to celebrate. Drinks on him for the night," and I immediately ran out the bar. "Big Ron Shuffles" was his name and after convincing a girl I was acquainted with I was going to hang out with "that guy who won the lottery" I was throwing her into his arms and he was inviting me back to his place. Ron got really drunk that night. I made sure of it. He told me he came from a century in the future and he spent his life savings on an illegal time jump back to our time because nobody had won the lottery this week and he could still get the numbers. Of course I didn't believe him, but I should have.
We were only friends for a week when things went wrong. He slapped me awake out of a drunk stupor at 3 in the morning. "They're here," he yelled dragging me into the bathroom with him. It turns out time travel IS real and not only that but it's a lot easier to go forwards than backwards. Before I knew it we were 20 years into the future and he was withdrawing money from a high interest account he had opened in a fake name. In short, it turns out that the only reason the lottery exists, and the only reason the value gets as high as it is is to catch illegal time travelers. TP;NPs (time perp;no permit) they were called. I know nobody is going to believe me but I have to get this out there. The government is being run by the future. Everything is being guided the way they want to. We have no choices left.
If you need more proof the numbers for this week are 5, 26, 32, 34, 38, 42. I wish I didn't know but now that I do I want to be free. Free from a time controlled government. Free from the future where they rule the world with an iron fist. I want to be free, and I need your help. | When I was a child I made a mistake. My school had a set of farm animal toys. I loved the donkey. It was less obnoxious than the family of horses and more interesting than the sheep and cows. There were many of those but only one donkey. I played with it every day at every opportunity and sometimes I would put it in my pocket and let it ride around on me in the lunch break and designated play times.
One day a new kid arrived in school. She sat next to me and everything started off fine. She liked farm animals too. At first she was content to play with the sheep, jumping them over fences and the like. When sheep weren't enough she played with the cows. Daisy and her friends got in quite the set of adventures. But even the cows couldn't sate her hunger. She wanted more. The horses barely lasted a week. I could see where this was headed and I didn't like it. Not one bit.
I turned up to school on a particular thursday and it had happened. The donkey was gone, and she had it. I sat next to her and watched my donkey pull imaginary carts around the field. I wanted it back. I watched her feed my donkey imaginary sugar lumps. I wanted it back. I watched my donkey frolic with the other animals. I took it back! I ran from the classroom to the outside whereupon I threw it over the fence into the bushes. If my donkey and I couldn't play then no one could. I stood shaking for a while then cried and cried and cried.
I regretted my actions, my mistake. I waned my donkey back. If only I could go back in time...
An excellent idea I thought. So I screwed up my eyes and tried really hard. I willed myself back. I remembered my donkey sailing over the fence and imagined me being there catching it and putting it in my pocket. I checked my pocket but my donkey wasn't there. I tried a few more times but it quickly became clear that I couldn't time travel. Now I needed a new plan. I needed someone who could do it.
I sit in my chair. It is comfy, very comfy. The best that money could buy, if you didn't want one of those irritable vibrating chairs that offer so called "massages" but really convince you that either your back is going to break or the chair will. But it is an excellent chair. A tasteful shade of grey. A good number of wheels so that I can slide from end to end of my imposing mahogany desk. It commands the room. Almost a dining table sized desk yet it only had three allocated chairs. One is very comfy, the others not so. They aren't bad but if you sat in one you knew that you are not going to be sitting in it for long. Uncomfy chairs keep meetings short. That is what I had discovered and it is what I like. This is my domain. I am king of Camalot and this is my throne.
Over a score of years had built up to this point. Building my kingdom. Putting everything together. Starting the national lottery had been no small feat. I needed something that had a huge reward. A small tax on everyone in the country is a logical way to gather that money. I needed something that was utterly predictable with hindsight. The numbers go out in all the papers so all you need is an old paper. This is a foolproof plan. I chuckle to myself, why if I were a time traveller how could I resist such an opportunity.
Now all I have to do is wait then we can go back and correct that mistake. | 2022-01-03T09:57:27 | 2014-10-30T17:03:02 | 751 | 74 |
[WP] The Roman Empire never collapsed and the year is 1999 AD | The year is MCMXCVIIII. This marks my descent from my family's prestige. I have failed math. It's just too hard. How does VIII^II become LXIV? It just doesn't make any sense. All I know its that next year is MM, so thats nice. I just wish someone would figure out a way to make REAL sense of computation. This system is insane; I was in the Hospital the other day and someone went into shock due to dehydration and the head doctor said, "stick her with an IV! QUICK!" So the nurse just grabbed IV scalpels and stabbed her right there. It was brutal. Why did the doctor think that was a good idea?
Yesterday, I thought of a way to solve all of our problems with this whole numbers dealio. What if we developed a new way to denote numerical values? A method that is fast and concise and easy to learn. So I came to a decision to implement ascribing value with **COLORS!** | [new on WP; comments welcome!]
My head hurt. I was thoroughly wasted; after all, the new millenium was almost upon us. Princius’s popular song «party like it’s 1999» was playing everywhere. Loudly. My poor head.
Why were we even using this calendar ? Eyes half-closed, I tried to remember the details from my history classes. That weirdo Jesus Christ starting a new cult and gaining considerable foothold among slaves. The circus games we used to try to instill some sense into the new converts. The lions. Jesus getting a swift kick in the ass and taking refuge into the northern part of what is now known as Korea, continuing his futile war and famishing his people. Sad, really. But why did we use his birth as a starting point for a new calendar? This made no sense at all. I finally decided that I was too smashed to care.
« Ave », I said to the waiter. He nodded and gestured me to a table. Most of the other guests were already lying on the couches. The orgy was just getting started. I relaxed and had a slave pour me wine. I put my phone in silent mode and grabbed a whip. More than a few good-looking nubians tonight, I thought.
« We really should behave. Otherwise we’ll just become decadent », I remarked at my friend Flavian.
« Shut up, Brutus. You’re drunk ». | 2014-10-31T14:50:45 | 2014-10-31T14:33:26 | 39 | 26 |
[WP] We finally receive a message from the stars. It's a surrender. | We listened and listened, but nothing was found -
No intricate signal, no alien sound;
No link from a world in a galaxy bright,
But desolate silence, and limitless night.
We listened and listened, with nothing to hear -
No cosmic crescendo, no harmony near;
No twitch of a pitch, nor a note from the stars,
But spiritless stillness, and echoes from Mars.
We listened and listened - until it all *changed*.
A sound in the darkness, a message exchanged;
A voice from the cluster uncharted by men;
Recorded and printed, repeated again.
We listened and listened - with growing despair.
'*We cede to your mercy, and yield to your care.*
*They're coming*,' it said, and the message was through.
*'They're coming.*
*They're coming.*
*They'll come for you too.'* | It was the damnedest thing.
I mean, it's one thing to find alien life on a planet, right? A couple of single celled organisms, a low level ecosystem, some algae. If you're lucky, and I mean "holy-musk, it's a miracle!" type of lucky, the planet may have given rise to some fauna and low level herbivores. The fact of the matter is, in the 5000 some-odd years since humanity had begun its grand escape, we had not once, not even ONCE, found a system with the complexity of our own. Nothing. Forget about sentience; the best we had seen was a few carnivorous animalizards picking at some insects. 1062 colonies, and that was it. Humans and lizards.
So that's why, when I saw the signal broadcasting from an unknown region of space on all frequencies, I shrugged it off. Just a joke from the band of bumpkins that I call a crew. A lark. A prank on their old fuddy-duddy captain. Very funny, if you take into account that it wasn't funny in the least. But when I looked over at my Communications Officer, it wasn't a face of suppressed laughter I saw. It was a face of confusion. A face mirrored by every other member on the bridge.
A surrender.
An *alien* surrender.
It was the damnedest thing.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
more incoming.
| 2014-11-01T16:25:03 | 2014-11-01T15:54:27 | 251 | 22 |
[WP] A superhero whose powers are only activated when they're drunk. | "I'm sorry sir, but the Mark 43 prototype has failed to respond."
Tony Stark swiftly moved his arms in an effort to "call" the pieces of his latest armor. Once again, nothing happened.
"JARVIS, what gives?"
"It appears, sir, that your decision to rely on a blood sample as a means of identification has posed a significant drawback."
"Which is?"
"Your blood alcohol content at the time you uploaded the sample was approximately zero point sixteen. The armor will not respond to your blood type until your system sufficiently resembles the sample."
Tony sighed. Pepper must have re-installed the humor application into the AI. "JARVIS, this isn't funny. Release the armor." People were dying out there.
"I'm sorry, sir. You yourself prevented any overrides in your initial programming." JARVIS paused, almost thoughtfully. "Sir, I am afraid you will either have to construct a new suit, or you will have to conform your blood alcohol content to its earlier iteration."
There wasn't time to override his initial programming. Not with Mandarin--the real one--having made landfall in New York City. The Clean Slate protocol had been a mistake. But unless that new witch could bend back time, Tony was out of options. It was either the Mark 43 or nothing.
"Sir, I am receiving an urgent call from Captain Danvers."
Damn it to hell.
Tony turned to address one of his mechanical assistants. "Alright, Dummy, you're on shaker duty, I need three vodka Martinis, up, extra dry, extra dirty, extra olives. JARVIS, tell Danvers I'm bringing the party to her."
God, Tony thought, I hope the flight stabilizers can compensate for this. | "No. No, Mack, you are not going out again. No!" I felt her hands press to my chest as she spoke, trying prevent me from walking out the door. Of course she knew she couldn't physically stop me. I was ten pints of cider deep and felt the power coursing through my body, just as I felt my mind swimming in a drunken fog. Pointing out into the street I said "Gotta go save all the people." It sounded courageous in my head, to her it just sounded like a drunken idiot about to go out and get himself into yet another mess. Her brows furrowed deeper as she spoke yet more words of protest "You can't, the mayor said from now on the police are to treat you as a vigilante, a law breaker; you can't go out there while you're powered up!" I was paying her less and less heed, my flesh was turning to bone reinforced scales, my teeth turning to fangs and a tail ripped out through the back of my stained sweatpants. I through my hand in the air "De beast ish unleast!" She stepped out of the way, shaking her head a a few tears rolled down her soft cheeks. She soft said, mostly to herself "You'd been doing so well, it had been so long." As I charged out into the night.
Next thing I was aware of was noise. Noise and then light. I cracked my eyes open with a groan. It was painful to do so, my eyes stung and my head ached. I found myself sprawled against some bags of refuse in a filthy alleyway. Bits of torn clothing clung to my mostly nude body and I was heavily bloodsplattered. I sighed and hung my head "Oh fuck Ash is going to be so pissed at me." I gathered the remains of my clothes about me and stumbled out into the street and blinked with a pain expression as more of the early morning light hit my face. So begins the arduous walk home. I stopped at a newspaper stand along the way. The morning headline read 'Killer Komodo, The Super-Powered Man-Beast Re-Emerges!' | 2014-11-24T10:18:14 | 2014-11-24T09:58:58 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | "So, let me get this straight," Steve blinked. "For ten dollars, you'll make it so that whenever he looks for something, it'll be in the last place he'll look?"
The witch doctor nodded, revealing his yellowed teeth in a wide, Joker-esque grin. "Yes, that's right."
"So, like... if he lost his car keys, they'd be-"
"Yes, yes. The money now, please."
As he received the money, the witch doctor could only grin. He'd been at this for twenty years - and this was his only curse. Of course one would only find something in the last place they looked - why would they keep looking once they'd already found it? | Witch doctor, Witch doctor
I've got a request
i've read the reviews
they said you're the best
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
i'm short on cash
but i still need to make
a good backstab
***
Damn, Freddy
it was ugly
what ya did to me
truly
***
i swear
i'd have you 86'd
if i had the money (ha!)
***
but Witch doctor
if all you can do
is give him the flu
make him blue
cut his hair
make stoplight's unfair
wrinkle his sweater
clothes don't fit better
trip and fall
do it all
***
set his alarm 20 minutes late
make him nauseas when he already ate
***
make every line wait increase by 2
every grate he passes, make his money fall through
***
when he speeds, there's a cop on the street
double the fine when he starts to plead
***
every time he starts to doze off
his boss happens to walk in on
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
make it so
it's all i can afford
and he'll never know! | 2014-12-13T14:17:47 | 2014-12-13T13:01:48 | 89 | 23 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | "So I decided that I would only ever go into one Starbucks. That way, I know who it is," I finished. My best mate Mike nodded dubiously.
"That makes sense, I guess. It's a good thing you usually avoid the place. So how did you pick this one?"
"Random chance. I got a listing of local stores, closed my eyes and picked one."
He clapped me on the shoulder encouragingly, and I took a deep breath and pushed in through the door. My eyes instantly locked on the girl standing at the counter as I joined the queue. She was pretty... long dark hair, dark eyes, friendly looking. I couldn't help feeling a moment of disappointment, though... was this it? I'd expected, well, birds or something, a heavenly choir, the earth to move. Not just... nothing.
I joined the queue, heart pounding. In my confusion I was barely aware of one of the staff walking up, but I just raised my hand. "No thanks, I'm fine," I said distractedly, still staring at the girl behind the counter. After a moment I heard a mutter... it sounded like "Good thing I can put two and two together."
I blinked and turned to look into big blue eyes, shimmering golden hair. She smiled, and the world lit up around me.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" she asked, and then held up a card. "That's what you were expecting, right?"
'No thanks, I'm fine' was printed in block letters on the card. I smiled back, shakily. "Ah, _there's_ the heavenly choir," I laughed, as her hand slid into mine. | My parents were fine. ("Excuse me, what time is it?" "It's about half-past two.") And my brother Tim got "Do you know you have gorgeous eyes?", which is probably a weird thing to say to a complete stranger but is otherwise kind of perfect. But there are some awful cases, some phrases you just don't want. Like, my friend Meagan Andrews got "Fuck you", and it's a testament to her personality that it didn't scar her for life. "It can only really go uphill from there," is how she puts it. And unless you've been hiding under a rock the past four years, you know about Quentin Hull, who got "Why did you kill that guy?" and is currently living his own shitty, lawyer-filled version of the Minority Report. But those are the horror stories.
Then again, when I woke up that morning the horror stories were all I could think about. Because let's face it, this whole thing is legitimately goddamn terrifying.
Sitting up in bed, I noticed the letter sitting on my nightstand. I decided it was probably a good idea to get this over with as quickly as possible, ripped open the envelope, and revealed that little slip of paper...
*Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?*
Immediately I flashed back to a Tuesday morning when I was eight years old. I've just finished my breakfast and am all neat and ready to go to school. My parents, however, are hustling to get everything together, and my mother absentmindedly stubs her toe on the edge of the kitchen counter and spills her coffee on my arm. It's hot as hell. I scream. Dad rushes over and wipes up the coffee, and Mom is about to kiss it better when she notices my arm begin to swell. In thirty seconds it's gone completely numb and puffy, and Dad calls an ambulance. Later I learn I had a severe allergic reaction to the coffee and am lucky to be alive.
And then I snapped back and realized I've sure as hell got it worse than Meagan Andrews, and possibly Quentin Hull too. | 2014-12-18T00:15:29 | 2014-12-17T22:14:26 | 141 | 64 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It had been 7 years since I found out the words that my “true love” would say to me, and of course like everyone else I kept mine secret.
It was an unwritten rule about finding out our “lines” that we didn’t share them with one another, but I knew that the first words my true love would say to me would be “Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
At first I thought this would be one of those things that I’ll happily stumble into one day in New York city and by chance I’ll find her, however time passes quickly and before I knew it 5 years had passed. I was ready to settle down but no matter which Starbucks I came into it was always a little off, “Welcome, what would you like?” or “What can I get you?” and eventually the idea of having a soul mate out there waiting for me didn’t bring me the same sense of ease it once did.
Before long I found myself getting bitter at the prospect of having to “wait” for the right one to say a stupid line. Where the fuck are my choices? Why don’t I get a say in what happens and when it happens. While all my friends were hearing those magical words all I became was more and more bitter at the miserable world, so much so that my “happy” friends stopped talking to me.
I knew It wasn’t right, I could see myself becoming a bigger asshole everyday but felt I could nothing about it, like watching a car crash in slow motion I was helpless.
Eventually they did all cut me out, and I was alone.
I started playing video games and I stopped going outside. I joined online chats and became mod of /r/nosoulmateyet on Reddit. I hated others that found their soul mates and wanted to ruin anything I could to prevent that.
There were others like me and I became fast friends with ASH1983 amongst other haters. ASH1983 hated the idea of the Soul Mate thing as well and we wrote to each other almost daily about how fucked up it was that everything had to be ‘pre-written’ and nothing was up to chance.
We ended up e-mailing each other every day and then multiple times a day. I knew nothing about them and I liked it that way – anonymous means we don’t have to worry about being “nice” we can just be honest. I’d say we became friends, actually I'd say we became closer than that. Eventually when I had nothing else and felt that I could trust them completely I told them about my "line."
After a long while they responded back, but they didn't share their line, only mentioned that mine was a "bum deal." I admit it hurt.
Shortly after that ‘she’ added me on Facebook, Ashley Johnson, she lived in the US thousands of miles away, boyfriend, dog, house…everything I didn’t have.
I felt cheated. I felt like I had opened my miserable dark soul to someone and they threw their beautiful life in my face. I felt like everything I knew about her was a lie. My blood boiled and I wanted her and her perfect life to end FOREVER. Through tears I found her number and dialed long distance.
A man picked up, “Hello?”
“I need to speak to Ashley.” I said through tears.
“Sure…” the man said hesitantly
After a brief moment and a small behind the phone chat I could hear breathing on the line. It sounded nervous and fragile.
I paced around my living room, phone to my ear waiting for her to say ANYTHING…..
But she didn’t.
I was heartbroken….she didn’t even have the decency to say hello first.
“You know what?” I said through gritted teeth. “Go fuck yourself.”
And I hung up.
That was two weeks ago.
I woke up this morning, 7 years to the day I found out my words and decided that I wouldn’t be heading out to Starbucks again, maybe ever so I made and poured myself a coffee.
Just then my doorbell rang.
I opened the door and standing there was Ashley suitcase in one hand and umbrella in the other. She smiled at me and said, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
I dropped my coffee and stood there slack jawed.
“You think you had it bad?” she asked jokingly, “imagine if you had ‘you know what? go fuck yourself’ as your soulmates first words.”
| Today is the day, my 18th birthday. The last day I have to go to school. No matter where we are in the school year when someone turns 18 they get their career card, they have one day to say goodbye to their school friends then it's off to the "real world". For me that was today, I roll out of bed after having slept through my alarm which is pretty usual for me. I pull on my school uniform for the last time and make my way to brush my teeth, no shower today. Oh what a great start to the rest of my life. I fly down the stairs trying to make the bus but it's pulling away as i hit the floor. I run to the kitchen table grab some fruit for breakfast and the small red envelop with my name written in gold letters. No time to read it now. I jump in my dad's car and start to drive to school, at this point I figure I'm gonna be late anyways I might as well stop for some coffee on the way in. I pull into the parking lot, jump out as fast as I can open the door and bam I walk face first into the gentleman in front of me. The line is wrapped all the way around the building, great I'm for sure gonna be late I thought to myself. About 5 minutes later I'm getting bored, that's when I remembered that little red envelop, my futures card. The one piece of paper that is supposed to determine the rest of your life. Even through you're not allowed to show anyone what's on it, my friend Joey showed me his two weeks ago before he left. They aren't lieing when they say it's your future. Everything from his career to the number of kids he's gonna have to the first thing his soul mate is gonna say to him, it's crazy. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He got defender as his career so he's probably at some training or something, that meat head got his dream career. At this point the line had started to move again, I'm getting closer and closer to the front. I finally get the courage to open my futures card and see what it said. Personally I don't get why people make such a big deal about it, everything is already determined what's knowing it gonna change? Anyway I'm curious, I'm reading down the list. I'm supposed to be a teacher, that's not even fair I don't like kids. I'm supposed to have 2 kids of my own, one boy and a girl, great a wonderful start. The girl I'm supposed to marry : Emily browning, I've never met anyone by that name so I guess we'll see where this goes. It's probably a load of junk anyways. The first words my soul mate is going to say to me : "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"... like really seriously? That's horrible, My other friend Jenny told me hers were "you've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen"...
That's when I hear it, I've made my way all the way up to the front of the line to get my coffee, and one for my professor to excuse me for being late. I look up with this dumb look on my face, and she repeats herself "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I can't even speak. I kinda point to what I want while I stand there dumb struck. My order is finished I grab it and walk out. I stumble my way to my dad's car and through all my classes that day. I couldn't think of anything but her gorgeous smile. Once the school bell rung announcing the end of my school career I snapped to my senses. In that moment I remembered that I was going to get my professor coffee... and that I totally stiffed the girl I knew was going to be my soul mate for the coffee I had stolen that morning.
I grabbed my bag ran past all my friends not even bothering to say goodbye. I got in my dad's car and sped all the way back to the Starbucks. I walk in and notice they aren't as busy but thankfully she's still there... I make my way up to the counter and try to explain what had happened. As I pull my wallet out to pay for the drink my eyes find her name tag, Emily...
That was 20 years ago, I did go on to marry that girl she was my soul mate. That card ended up being the best thing that could have happened to me. To think it all started with a simple "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?". So that's was the my story of my futures card, and tomorrow son you'll get your own. No matter how silly it sounds, and no matter how much you think that little card will determine your life it can't tell you how it will happen.
This is the first story I've ever posted. I'd love your guys feedback :) | 2014-12-18T09:54:46 | 2014-12-18T00:51:20 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time. | We'd known that the stars were going out for generations. Our best and brightest had cobbled together a sleeper ship so that humanity could live beyond our universe's demise. A ship which could breech the walls of our cradle and allow us to find a new home.
I'm the 44th Commander of the Gaia. All I know of what's come before are the journals left by my predecessors. Each was in command for decades. Decades alone on a sterile ship filled with the cryogenically frozen remnants of humanity. Each ended their own life in despair, having realized the horrible truth; only to be replaced by a new commander, freshly awoken from their cryogenic stasis.
Ours was the last universe. All the others had been long dead by the time we got there. The Gaia has shifted between a dozen dozen dozen universes during my tenure as commander. All of them barren and cold.
Almost as cold as the barrel of my service pistol felt, pressed against my temple. | I'm too old for this. They built me back when the universe was full and alive and they gave me orders that sounded so good. Orders full of hope, full of the vibrance of their youth. "Go and search out new stars, new planets." So I did. I really shared their enthusiasm because they made me that way.
It was good. Well it was good at first. I surveyed stars and reported back. Behind me I heard the communications chatter as they spread out in my wake. New colonies awakening to new histories, new lives. I felt they were almost my children. When the whole galaxy was mapped I looked out and started the long jump to the next nearest. They followed me there too. We had distance beyond measure and all eternity to explore.
But they had made me invulnerable and granted me power beyond reason. I have watched them ascend to godhood and pass beyond my stars but I am still searching, mapping and reporting. Now I am here.
It is hard to describe it as an old star as I am so much older than it is but it is old. I cannot even say it is relatively old as it is the last. It will not explode as so many of its fellows but it is fading. Its nuclear fires have long since ended and the last of the photons from that are finally trickling out through its outer layers. Soon it will be just a clump of gas and other material. The last star after infinities of time shall have gone.
I shall be at peace. I shall have finished my orders. I can rest. | 2015-01-17T10:25:25 | 2015-01-17T10:22:32 | 154 | 30 |
[WP] You start blacking out constantly when drinking, every time you come to, you find a paper written by yourself 100% disproving fundamental theories. | I awoke at my station in the scriptorium and attempted to stretch my arms as I always do; the chains make it so I can't get any further than the pages. My head was pounding, my wrist was aching, I tilted just the wrong way to the right so the feeding pipe sent a sharp pain on the roof of my mouth. Another day at work.
"Ah, good morning. Let's see what we have today..." My present superior, Nicholaus, picked up the stack of papers. "De revolutionibus orbium coelestium. My, my, busy night." I suppose the sun is the center of the universe. What wonders my mind can come up with when it's at its most poisoned.
"Nicely done. We'll see what my contemporaries have to say about this. Wonderful knowing you." Nicholaus Copernicus passed the chamber's overseer on his way out. My sole candle was re-lit as he began to turn the crank, allowing stale wine to creep through the pipe and into my esophagus, one small drop at a time. This would continue until I was intoxicated. I dipped the quill in ink and prepared to write, as I had for centuries, and as I would for centuries to come.
I awoke to a start. "The Theory of Relativity." | Eric woke up with a start—papers stuck to his face, pencil in hand. Groaning, he pushed back from the mahogany desk and glanced at the paper. *Yep, I know some of these words.* This was the fourth one in three weeks. Every time he drank, he passed out, and when he came to he found some scientific paper that he’d apparently scrawled out in his drunken stupor. *Wonder what this one’s about.* He scanned the page trying to figure out the paper’s subject (lots of mentions of ‘strings’ and ‘frequencies’), but no dice. Yawning, he carefully placed the decent sized stack of maybe twenty or thirty pages to the side and rubbed his eyes.
Four seemingly academic papers, all at least a dozen pages in length, all written in his scrawling, barely discernable handwriting. Eric couldn’t really make heads or tails of it, or even if they were accurate in the slightest—he was a psych major, for Christ’s sake—but from what he could tell, the first was about Einstein’s relativity and the second was about something to do with computers. He never did figure out the third. And now another one, like clockwork. He began to wonder if the type of drink made any difference on the subject of the paper. *Mental note—try tequila.*
After some searching, Eric found his iPhone near his pillow and held his thumb over the button to unlock it. 9:38. *Shit.* He was already late for class, and—*fuck!*—he’d forgotten that essay was due today. As he ran around the room grabbing his backpack and stuffing his shoes on, he snatched the paper from off his desk. *Accurate or not, it’s better than nothing.*
--Excerpt from *Brainiac: The Life of Eric Bowman*, now a New York Times Bestseller!
| 2015-01-31T11:04:46 | 2015-01-31T10:45:07 | 38 | 22 |
[WP]2000 years from now, history is misunderstood and retold as a series of myths where nations are represented as individual gods,citizens as worshipers and corporations and NGOs as demons/angels(lesser gods).Chronicle current world crises in the style of ancient myths.
-Global warming
-colonization
-World wars
-cold war
-globalization
-ISIS
-space race
-nuclear deterrence(Mutually assured destruction)
-US intervention
-US vs china
-US vs russia
-the internet (as a powerful untameable beast perhaps)
Etc
| Professor Ao'Nesti peered into the cavernous monolith that was just uncovered at the excavation site.
"Han'Sungai, go fetch the light globes! Quickly! This might be the most important discovery in over a century!", he excitedly yelled at his assistant. "I think we found an intact temple filled with shrines and monuments!"
Han'Sungai quickly retrieved Professor Ao'Nesti's light globe, a stone sphere that is perpetually glowing a soft blue light.
The Professor stepped into the temple cautiously, ever vigilant for bobby traps or ancient curses. As his eyes adjust, he knew that this excavation will be forever chronicled in the history books. An intact temple with endless rows of shrines, each with offerings and artifacts to the ancient gods.
To his left, he see blue cans stacked up high. Each can has the iconography of an ocean wave and a single white word. He knew that word from his studies: the ancient god of the Endless Seas, Pepsi.
On his right, he see bags colored in red. He excitedly read the name of the god. Doritos. The ancient god of Raging Fire.
He looked around, endless shrines offering to both the major gods like the Solar God Samsung, to minor obscure ones such as Good Value. *Must be the god of Morality*, he concluded.
"Han'Sungai, have you dug out the name of this temple yet? I saw a part of the glyph symbols extruding out earlier."
"Yea I think we got all of it dug out. Can you come over for a second? We need your capabilities to translate this word."
The Professor came out to decrypt the symbols. It's even more impressive up-close, towering almost three times his height.
"The blue word is 'Wul'Mutt'. I read in the books that it's the name of an ancient empire that stretches to every corner of the globe. The white words are foreign to me, but I assume it means Super Shrine in the ancient tongue." | They say he started as a prodigy, but was turned into an outcast. The jealous King Zar took notice of his talent and his charisma, and could not dare stand have any competitors! He arrested mightly Len, but found that even the harshest prison could not break Len's spirit. So the cruel despot exiled Len from his homeland; the Savior was forced to travel to the lesser nations, disguised as a vagrant. Weaker men would have abandoned their destiny, but the desire to bring freedom to his homeland burned in Len's chest like a roaring fire!
The King's evil ways caught up with him eventually, as with all despots. The other nations of the world grew to despise the King, and waged a brutal war on him. King Zar enslaved his people and sent them to the killing fields with neither armor nor weapon. He became so obsessed with his own power that he thought himself invincible, and that would prove to be his undoing. The huddled masses rose up against the evil king, and Len returned to his homeland as their champion! They say that he personally threw the King from his throne after a mighty struggle and cast him into prison, where the worst criminals of the Homeland exacted their ultimate revenge. The other nations rejoiced to see the King's fall and immediately made peace with Len's new nation.
Some men would be content with such victory and crown themselves the new king, but not Len. He gave power back to the people! He organized them into communities and crushed the King's remaining supporters. He shared the nation's wealth with all, ushering in an era of peace and prosperity. The other nations of the world soon grew jealous of Len; their own populations sought to replicate Len's success.
Having completed his life's work in restoring freedom to the homeland, Len rested. Like all mortals, he too must fall. But the Lord so loved Len that he preserved the great leader's body in a glass tomb, where all citizens could come see his magnificence and be inspired. Some say that he still remains under the city ruins, waiting for the day when his nation needs him to be free of another tyrannical ruler, and that his Hammer and Sickle banner will one day wave again over the Homeland!
All hail LEN, founder and savior of Ooser!
----
This story is a continuation of [this other story, in which a trader seeks to sell one of Len's relics](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ummmr/wp_12000_years_in_the_future_civilizations_fell/co9tnc9).
| 2015-03-12T11:21:56 | 2015-03-12T11:15:23 | 144 | 10 |
[WP] Pick an event/story with an untold point of view (the guy who threw the shoe at George Bush, the bat on the space shuttle, etc). Then tell that character's story without giving away what the event is until the end. | My heart raced as I heard the terrified screams of people behind me, trying to comprehend scene that was unfolding before their eyes. The sound of it sent adrenaline rushing through my veins as I myself tried to come to terms with the situation. Many people bowed their heads in prayer, others resorted to hysterical screaming, and some were determined to fight back. I knew there was no fighting this; we were beyond the point of no return, all there was left to do was accept our fate and pray we had made the right decisions in what little time we had on earth.
I am a man of faith and believe that our actions in this life determine our place in the next. I have spent my whole life in the pursuit of something greater than myself, longing to be a part of something that can make a difference in the world. My best friend and mentor always told me things will never change on their own, that if we want to see a change in the world then it is our duty to do something to change it. There will always be evil in the world but we have the ability to reduce it one action at a time. I have taken these words to heart and have lived my life by them.
My heartbeat began to steady as I thought back to my old friend and a soothing calm slowly swept over me. I am staring into the face of death and there is no escape, but I made my peace with the thought of death long ago. My life has been lived dedicated to my religion and I know that I will receive great reward in the next life. I only hope that the action I am taking today will rid the world of a little more evil. My hands grasped tight onto the control wheel of the 767 as the building grew ever larger in cockpit window.
| I'd lived a good life, hadn't I? I wondered solemnly behind my mahogany desk. The love of my life sat opposite me, face buried in her hands as sobs wracked her delicate body. It hurt me to see her like that, more than the inescapable threat of death which hung heavy in the air.
They'd be here soon, the cold hearted bastards from the north, their numbers endless and resources unimaginable.
I had been so sure we were going to win, everything seemed in our favour; disciplined soldiers, powerful allies and loyal civilians. Hundreds of thousands had died, as it now turned out, for nothing. Perhaps even millions. The world was cleaner than when the righteous campaign started years ago, but our glorious motherland was a smoking mess compared to what it had been, a desiccated corpse of a once glorious nation.
I studied the paintings which lined the white spartan walls, giving the bunker a slightly less clinical air. Dull cracks echoed softly through the heavy iron doors, ripping me out of my revelry. My time on earth was nearly over.
I beaconed my newly wed wife over to me, placing her tenderly on my lap. As I looked up amorously into her a liquid brown eyes the doors swung open with a bang and a host of angry soldiers swarmed into the room. This was it, I thought as I brushed a strand of mousey brown hair out of the corner of her mouth, before slowly raising my lips to hers. As our mouths connected for the final time an earth shattering bang ripped through the room, my chest exploding into flames as the bullet ripped it's way into my torso, embedding itself in a rip. I spluttered, feeling hot, thick blood clogging my lungs, as a volley of bullets whizzed in our direction.
The man with the pencil moustache twitched, his bullet riddled body oozing shockingly red blood onto the concrete floors. Even Adolf Hitler could bleed, it seemed.
*Sorry for any spelling errors as I am on my phone. Spacing and phrasing is probably not quite right, but that was never my forte! First real story I've posted, lemme know how it goes!* | 2015-03-16T14:20:15 | 2015-03-16T12:58:43 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] One day autocorrect starts correcting for truth, not spelling. | My phone jingled and buzzed and I emerged from the tangled mess of blankets and my oversized pyjamas to grab it.
Received 23.00: "Hey, everything okay? You were pretty quiet today, wanted to check-in with you x"
I managed a small smile, it was good of Jake to do that, he was always thinking of others. I'd been struggling recently with everything, but I don't want to be a bother or upset anyone so I texted back quickly that I was fine and not too worry.
I retreated back into my blanket nest with my phone this time and was startled when it went off again in my hand.
Received 23:10: "I had no idea you were having a hard time, I'm on my way over now, we can talk if you want?"
What? I scrolled up the glowing screen and gasped, this wasn't what I had sent, what had happened?!
Sent 23:05: "Hey, I'm a bit down at the moment. My job's in a rut, I'm lonely and I feel like I need to talk to someone about all of it, but I can't say anything because I'm terrified of seeming weak."
My hands shake slightly as I type out that I'm fine, and that my phone glitched. He didn't need to worry I really am fine. There I think, tongue stuck between my teeth. That'll fix it.
Sent 23:15: "I'd really appreciate that, you're always there when I need you x"
Shit, shit, shit. I flop face first into the blankets, and breathe in as I fight panicked tears. Nobody should know about this, it's my problem and I shouldn't be putting it on others.
Then the doorbell rings, and I feel forced to answer it. "Hey, it's me, you there?" Jake calls through the thin barrier. I pull the door open and try to explain that it was a misunderstanding but all that escapes me is a strangled sob.
He moves across the threshold, pulling me into a hug as he kicks the door shut behind. I breathe deeply, trying to calm down as his hand rubs my shoulder soothingly but I can't stop crying.
"Everything's going to be okay." he offers, holding me closer and I take the comfort offered willingly.
Maybe, maybe Jake can help me. | Jenna stared at the screen in utter horror. Her heart had either stopped beating entirely, or it was racing. She was kind of unsure. The world around her had disappeared. There was no planet, just the message in front of her.
From: Lisa
*hey what u up to tonite?? wanna go out? hit sum clubs?*
She had meant to type out a simple little reply, something just safely ambiguous enough, like a cold, to politely decline the invitation. She knew she hadn't typed what she saw now. The reply was much longer than what she'd typed.
*Actually, that sounds fucking dreadful. I don't have the morale to pick out an outfit, do my hair and make-up, and travel all the way downtown to whatever club you're thinking of, just to get hit on by douchebags and shell out twelve bucks for every watered-down margarita, which will inevitably lead to me holding back your hair while you puke it all back up. I have other ways I'd rather spend my Wednesday night. Like with sweat pants and House of Cards on Netflix. Pass.*
Was that what she'd been thinking? Yes. But she certainly hadn't meant to type it out. She'd even tried the old "put it in airplane mode" trick, but the message had sent. Yikes on bikes. Fucking shitballs. The little "..." signaling Lisa's retort had appeared and disappeared multiple times, indicating Lisa was either writing a novel or going through multiple drafts.
*omg u bITCH! I ask u if u want to go out and thats what u say to me?*
How was she going to recover from this? Sure, Lisa could be a bit of a mess, but it's not like that was ALL she ever did. This wasn't like the accidental misspelling of "shuttle" to "shithole" of 2013. She couldn't get away with this. Yet her brain refused to admit defeat outright. It was Damage Control time. Explain it all, be as nice as possible. Apologize, cajole, even lie just to keep her from getting mad. Something like "I didn't mean it to come out that way."
*I bet I'm not even the first person you messaged about this. No one is going to want to go clubbing with you on a Wednesday night, Lisa. No one. We've all got work in the morning and we can't afford to be hungover. Speaking of which, how is your 20 hour-per-week internship going? Also, please take 3rd grade again so you can write a coherent text message.*
Jesus God, it was getting worse... | 2015-08-31T16:27:12 | 2015-08-31T14:40:36 | 329 | 82 |
[WP] The sexy, freedom-loving rebel hero always gets his rallying 'Why we fight' speech against the evil Empire du jour. Write the inspiring speech his law-and-order counterpart gives. | Fifty years ago, on this very day, the lives of fifteen million persons were lost. This number has been used as a statistic for both factions involved, both by upstanding members of government and anti-Imperialist leaders.
That is not why I am here today. I will not decry the villainy of the anti-Imperialist movement. Nor will I speak of the numerous ways in which the Chavian Empire has aided us all in these post-nuclear war years.
Today, we are gathered to memorialize the fallen. Humanity is not defined by political inclinations. Noble men and women fought that day, half a century ago - noble men and women who believed in what they stood for, standing on both sides of the battlefield. They were fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons. We must never forget these men, women, and children whose lives, full of great potential, were lost. Who among them could have been the next innovator, the next Socrates, the next Newton, the next Tesla?
We lost fifteen million that day. Not four million rebels, one million soldiers, and ten million civilians. We, as a nation divided, lost fifteen million people. And we, as citizens of the Chavian Empire, should mourn every single loss.
And it is for this reason that I humbly ask - was such loss worth it? Worth the stand that you would take? Was the politics worth the price in blood?
On this day, more than any other, I implore each and every one of us to ask ourselves this question. The Empire, when attacked, has no choice but to protect itself. And so it can, and it will. But when promising lives are lost, there can be no victory.
Let us each engrave the lessons of blood in our hearts, and let that blood not be so vainly spilled again. | I went a little more Evil Empire with this one than I intended...
*****
Men of the Black Empire, we stand here on the brink of victory and yet I stand before you, not with arrogance or certainty in our victory, but with the arrogance of certainty in our cause. Once we were few, just a handful of men who believed in a different society to the one which the Kingdom of Light stood for, but now I look across the fields of warriors who have joined, been enslaved or even grown from the very clay at our feet and I feel pride how far we have come.
It is easy to survive, when every time you fall a hand is offered to help you back up, but we do not believe that the easy life will make us strong. Every one of us has had to fight for his place on this field, but are we any lesser men for that? No, we are stronger, more powerful and we have more right to this world.
They tremble behind glowing walls, protected by the magics of their forefathers, we hold only the weapons in our hands and the knowledge that we have all fallen a thousand times and had our faces ground into the dirt *but each time we have risen*.
Victory today will be no celebration, for although we will have finally smashed the Gold Alliance, scattered their men and begun the process of reforming the world, make no mistake, it *is* only a beginning. Tomorrow our weapons will be stained with the drying blood of our enemies and we will begin the work of building a new world, one where strength and size gives a man honour and respect.
We will build a world for the strong. We will build a world where we are all tested and those found wanting will be cast aside, so that all of us will become stronger. We will build a world where every man has a chance to fight and kill his way to the top and no man shall doubt his very worth.
So take heart my warriors, their last few heroes are gathered here against an army of men who have proven themselves a thousand times and more in battle. Despite the prophecies and so-called legends, we have lost not a single battle and now we shall fall upon their walls and crush them.
Stand firm men of the Empire, stand proud and stand ready, for we march to victory.
| 2015-09-08T08:38:56 | 2015-09-08T08:26:19 | 49 | 11 |
[WP] Instead of the death penalty, convicted criminals are sentenced to have their minds overwritten by that of a recently deceased notable individual. | I watched as they strapped him down to the chair, sinews in his neck bunched tight as he struggled to free himself. I watched as they tweaked his harness, making little adjustments here and there as needed. I watched the man who killed my son and relished the look of animal panic in his eyes.
Nodding to himself, the officer in charge hooked a thumb in his belt and circled around until he finally grunted some sort of primitive affirmation. The preacher took that as his queue to start quoting the good book. I barely listened, I was too busy staring into those rolling brown eyes and wondering what drove this man to murder.
No one forced my son to go bar-crawling that night. Sure, I'll give you that. He had a problem, I knew about it and did nothing. That's all I ever was good at doing. Letting a problem fester until it was too late.
My son had a temper. A big one. Probably got it from me, truth be told. And he certainly didn't have to pick a fight with a man twice his size. But he did. And he paid for it, dearly. But there's a difference between fighting a man and putting him in the hospital and fighting a man and putting him in the morgue. You don't kick a man when he's down. And you don't keep kicking him until his internal organs rupture.
So I looked into those eyes as they fitted the helmet on him and wondered again what drove this man to the edge. His defense had put forth all sorts of reasons. A rocky marriage. A drinking problem of his own. A six figure job he had been fired from just that morning. I looked and wondered which of those was worth killing for. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I struggled to keep my resolve.
I thought of my boy. His first birthday, covered in cake. Him toddling around the living room and laughing. All those hugs I took for granted. Those times he would come running into my bedroom because there were monsters in his closet. It's funny how your children never age past six in your mind. And now he was gone.
"Simon Dean Salazar. You have been sentenced by the state of Alabama to die. Do you have any last words?" The officer draped an arm casually over the switch.
"Please. Please don't do this." His eyes grew wider somehow and he looked over at me . "I'm so sorry about your son, please stop this. I want to live. PLEASE."
Tears made pilgrimages down the curves of my cheeks, but I said nothing. I just stared into those eyes.
"HELP ME. PLEASE-"
The switch was thrown and the man's body whipped taut, contorting painfully backwards. And then he crumpled forward, held into the seat by innumerable straps. A medical team raced to his side, undoing his bonds and lifting him gently on to a gurney. As if in a dream, I floated over to his side. A nurse jammed a syringe into the center of his chest and depressed the plunger, pumping him full of some murky liquid. He gasped and sat up. Panting, he turned and looked at me. And I saw it. The look in those brown eyes was unmissable now.
His mouth split in two with a wide smile and yelled, "MOM."
And I hugged my baby boy once again.
| "Hold!" The officer shouted.
Quentin ran, ignoring the cries of inmates. He had to get away. This thing was a fate worse than death. Worse yet, he was an innocent man. He knew it more surely than he knew himself. The fact that he felt uneasy on his own feet was merely further confirmation of this.
He made it around a corner, the pattering of feet following shortly after him. It sounded like two or three others chased him, but he dared not turn his head to check. He needed a plan, and time was running out. Time was always running out.
Something urged him forward, even as consciousness began bubbling to the surface. *No.* Painted brick surrounded him on both sides. The walls pressed in on him and he continued sprinting, desperately hedging on the fact that this corridor didn't lead to a dead end.
Quentin saw the double doors as two officers rounded the corner. He barged in, knocking over a triage tray as he rushed into the room.
"A... what... " He sputtered, gasping for breath. The nurse's office? He glanced around, weighing his odds. A woman stared at him from her chair on the other end of the room, her eyes bulging from their sockets. She pointed, mouth agape, unable to speak. She'd do.
Quentin rushed at her, oblivious to all else. Two prisoners looked on in admiration, wondering what this cornered man's plan would be.
By the time the pursuing officers reached the room's threshold, it was too late. Quentin had wrangled control of the situation from them. In his hands he held a syringe which he pointed threateningly toward the nurse's neck.
"Don't move an inch! I'll fuckin' do it!" he shouted.
"Roger, you don't want to do this." One of the officers held his hands up as he edged forward.
The other stepped forward with his partner, one hand forward and the other on his holster.
"What's that you got there, huh? Taser? Gun? You gonna gut me right here, you sick fuck? What do you think this is? Who the fuck is Roger?"
Quentin found their reaction to his last question strange. They'd stopped in their tracks and begun exchanging confused glances. It appeared as if their eyebrows did all the talking at this point.
"You tell him."
"No, you. I don't know what to say."
"What? Me? I have -"
"Tell me fuckin' WHAT? What could possibly be so important as to-"
"Quentin? Is that right?"
Quentin paused, lowering the syringe momentarily. "Yeah?"
"Feel clumsy? Little weird?"
Quentin tried to tell himself they were posturing but for some reason he'd begun shaking involuntarily. He shoved the woman away, and held the needle to his own neck.
"Yeah? And?" He could feel his voice wavering. He knew this would be his last stand. Either he killed himself in this instant, or he'd be taken to the machine.
It had revolutionized incarceration. Prisoners wiped into blank slates and turned into men that had once been. Great men, capable of doing great things, were released back into society once again. Men that were dead lived again, their memories passed from one body to the next. And Quentin knew this would be his fate if he failed to end himself here and now. He'd be the next Clinton, or the next Hatfield. Fuck that.
Before either of the men had a chance to react, he gouged his own eyeball with the syringe, jamming it as deep as his socket allowed. The officers watched in awe as his lifeless body slumped to the ground.
"Well, shit. I was really looking forward to the new Tarantino film."
The other shrugged. "We'll just load him onto the next one."
"Yeah, but this time we'll at least know to restrain the lunatic. Fucker's crazy." | 2016-01-08T08:41:40 | 2016-01-08T07:54:34 | 56 | 35 |
[WP] You're a scientist working on a social experiment called, "M. modification", where one normal child is put into a school of mentally incapable children to see if the kid will try and fit in.
I know this is very dark, and I apologize ahead of time if I had offended someone. This is just a idea that really hit me during my shower and I want to see you guy's imagination. | "What do you mean revoking my license?!"
Exactly what I said Dr. Hensly, you can't just do social experiments like this.
"I got parental consent, the child is unharmed, everything was progressing perfectly! I demand to be allowed to continue my research."
Dr. Hensly, we keep trying to tell you, parental consent doesn't matter with cases like this. Its considered against the childs best interests to put them in a mandatory educational environment where they are purposefully singled out. Its detrimental to the development of a young child and breaks at the very least 3, child abuse laws.
"Nonsense, I checked extensively to make sure everything was fine. So long as no harm came to the child, this is perfectly legal."
But thats just it Doctor, the laws clearly state, as you can see here, that present harm isn't the only deciding factor. A dangerous or detrimental environment is also considered a form of endangerment, the parents are being spoken to for agreeing to this, as well as the school faculty for allowing the experiment to take place.
"This is why social science never progresses, apes like you march in and demand perfectly rational and understandable progress to be halted because you're worried about morals. Theres something bigger at stake here, we could finally understand the behavioral development in an entirely foreign culture, we could understand what really makes the pack mentality tick."
Thats why they have animal testing Doctor. They have monkeys for this, you can't just put a kid in here any more than you can put a sane man in an asylum.
"You know I'm not allowed to do animal testing after the wombat incident."
Don't remind me Doctor. I'm sick of being called for these things too, thats why we're revoking your license. Every other week you have some new grand experiment. What was it last time, "What if Hitler was put in an all Jewish school?" You groomed a child to be a dictator. And the week before that "God comes back after 2,000,000,000,000 years to check up on creation, and is amazed the apes he put down are now the dominant species?" How do you even test for something like that? All you had was an hourglass filled with chewed hubba bubba and an apple core.
"I have my ways Officer."
Well, now we have your license, I hope I wont see you again Dr Hensly. | "The M.Modification files were destroyed for a reason, I understand that and I agreed with purging all information. However, I didn't ask to be chased and shot at. I've checked the news and half of our employees have died in car crashes over the past three days. If you think that we can't put two and two together, you are seriously mistaken." Doctor Zed said.
The time on the video camera read 2:03am. His hair was ruffled with pieces of plants in it and his white professor coat was torn in several places.
Zed cradled his head in his hands. "Whatever you think it is that I have. I promise you, I do not have it!"
He picked up a small desk fan and flung it violently at the wall next to him. An explosion sounded from above and Zed ducked. The ceiling light wobbled from side to side, causing one half of the room to become lighter than the other.
Zed leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly.
"I am recording this for those of you out there, who will wonder what happened to me." He pointed at the screen, "When you see I died in a car crash, you that see this, will know the truth!"
"The M.Modification project was not a failure, it was a success of pure genius. The boy 'Martin' figured it out on the first day. But guess what, he played us. He knew about the cameras, the tests, the environment and he pretended not to know."
Zed began laughing hysterically. "Then something happened, that we never thought would occur. He started becoming like them. Even though he knew! he began acting like the other children. But his brain couldn't take it. He couldn't change -it's impossible!"
He cleared his throat. "On the seventh day, the kid snapped. He killed them one by one. And when we sent in the soldiers, he killed them too!"
He laughed manically, rocking back and forward in his chair.
A loud boom sounded from above.
Zed ducked, "Shit... They've found me this time."
He looked back into the camera. "Know this, Martin is still on the run. So they're trying to silence us, but they can't, they never will. Something happened to the kid and they want to re-create it and control it. Imagine that kind of power in the hands of a government."
The second loud thud sounded.
Zed grabbed the can of sleeping gas next to his desk and inhaled deeply.
"Remember me." He whispered.
The hatch to the basement exploded downwards. A grenade was thrown in and the room flashed white. Two soldiers jumped into the room and grabbed Professor Zed.
They passed him up above.
The last soldier to leave turned and aimed his pistol at the camera.
*Crack!*
Error: | 2016-02-09T22:25:09 | 2016-02-09T21:56:24 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You just accidentally downloaded the Kindle version of the Necronomicon. | The Necronomicon glowed, for the Kindle was Paperwhite. The Old Ones self-published.
Cooper first started to read it on the subway. His eyes would flick up every now and then. The girl sitting across from him was wearing shorts, and as the train hurtled along underground, her thighs would vibrate. Back down again. The book was by Abdul Alhazred - who was that? Cooper didn't quite remember downloading this in the first place, but here it was. Probably just an absent-minded batch download. These things happened.
The girl's legs wobbled. Cooper tried to focus.
'*That is not dead which can eternal lie.*
*And with strange aeons even death may die.*'
Cooper felt cold. He smiled. This was the mark of good literature, really, that he felt so affected. Before he could bend to continue, he noticed a gray mass at the edge of his vision. The people in the carriage began to murmur. It was almost a cloud at the opposite end, undulating and writhing. Its malevolence was clear: not hatred, really, but a sort of apathetic devouring.
Cooper stood, but the floor was slimy. He wept, not understanding, and the mass advanced. People screamed, and pushed against one another. There was nowhere to go. Gazing into it, one could almost make out a face. It saw him.
Filled with darkness, Cooper smashed a pane of emergency glass and took up a hatchet. Tears dampened his beard as he sunk the blade into the wobbling legs, into his neighbours, and into the fog around him.
Cooper glimpsed the Kindle on the floor. The Necronomicon glowed, and the train was never seen again.
The next reader was chosen the day after, half a world away, at a carnival.
***
there's some other Lovecraft-y stuff at /r/Hermione_Grangest | "Honey, what is this?"
"What is what, Grandma?" I said, not lifting my eyes from my laptop.
"This book!" she said from her brown armchair, her eyes on my Kindle as she gesticulated wildly with the "stylus" she'd insisted I provide.
The stylus was a disassembled pen.
"I don't like it. It looks scary. Why do you read these things?"
I sighed, staring at her from across the room. I'd pointedly removed every thing that looked vaguely objectionable from my Kindle before letting her use it.
"Are you talking about the Rush Limbaugh book Grandpa downloaded?" I joked as I stood up, heading towards my Grandmother.
Said Grandpa huffed from his position on his armchair, and continued to watch football.
I leaned over my Grandma's shoulder to look at the screen as the referee on the television blew his whistle, and the crowd roared. I had a passing thought that they were clearly cheering for my joke.
"Necronomicon?" I thought, reading the title, mincing the syllables, at first unfamiliar. Suddenly, I remembered the sci-fi literature class I took in college.
"That's an HP Lovecraft book, Grandma."
"I really need to go on *Jeopardy*," I thought, "I'd kill it..."
"I don't care who wrote it, you shouldn't be reading things like that!"
I wordlessly plucked the Kindle from her hands.
"He's a fine author, Mary!" Grandpa said, leaning forward in his chair, itching for the small squabbles that kept their marriage alive after more than fifty years.
"Jesus, Grams, how many books did you download?" I said as they started to bicker. I couldn't help but press the Necronomicon's icon. It did look a little Satanic, standing out from the plethora of baking and Jesus-y books Grandma had downloaded. Cool.
Grandma stared at me momentarily, then narrowed her bespectacled eyes at my Grandfather, clearly plotting her devastating retaliation.
"Don't you blame me for-"
The wind begin to howl, and I felt like I was flying up and falling down at the same time.
I opened my eyes some time later in the middle of a gray canyon, a circle of Shoggoths around me.
From a distance, I heard my Grandpa yell, "My game!"
| 2016-02-10T09:31:13 | 2016-02-10T09:13:13 | 844 | 10 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | From the personal journal of Astro-chronicler Des Variin.
Humans. Reviled, worshiped, misunderstood, underestimated. I first encountered these curious beings some 100 standard years ago, and have yet to fully understand all that makes them so damndibly different from all the other galactic races.
They follow the celestial standard, being bipedal with large brains and being more or less symmetrical, and possessing an organized community. Humans are curious, nearly to a fault, much like the All'tarr. They desire to understand the hows and whys of nearly everything they encounter that is different from their normal. Sometimes this backfires, but usually makes for exceptional leaps in technological advancement far in excess of their time past First Star Exploration (an anthropoligically understood time standard). They are as advanced technologically, at FSE 125, as other species are at FSE's upwards of 400.
Humans have, comparatively, short lives but fast reproductive cycles. This has several effects on their psyche, I theorize. Their relative fast reproductive rate makes the loss of individuals easier to deal with, so their curious nature that at times gets them into trouble is buffered.
They are, however, aware of their mortality, and so tend to be some of the more pacifistic beings in the galaxy. Fearing the loss of Human lives, and by extension the lives of others. They live passionately, love completely, and trust unconditionally. Usually. Their short lives means that often times, they live in the moment, but this more often than not means they respect life more than other long lived races that sometimes take their incredibly long lives for granted. They have been known to broker deals between warring parties and fostering fledgling races when they are found, instead of pacifying them with violence.
Yet, to consider the humans to be pure pacifists, as the Aldarri, would be a heinous mistake. Their relatively difficult evolution has carefully honed even the most average Human into an organism capable of enduring and inflicting great violence.
For the average Galactic Citizen, when struck in the abdomen with a blaster bolt unprotected, the shock to the neuro system is so severe that death is three to six seconds away. Humans have been known to survive for as long as eighty minutes, fighting with lethal ability for the first fourteen.
They are rational and compassionate, but in a stressful situation, a strange evolutionary mechanism manifests, called the fight or flight condition. Humans possess a gland, that in times of extreme stress, excretes a combat drug. This drug dulls pain, slows blood loss, and allows for extreme physical performance. Last year, a settler on Innova-G lifted a 1000 Kg shipping container that had fallen onto her child at their farmstead and rescued the child.
They also have been noted to have an impressive ability to continue to fight after taking damage. Fighters in their combat sports often continue to mount effective defenses even after taking devastating strikes to their brain cases. Other fighters have been observed allowing an opponent to dislocate joints rather than forfeit the fight, often continuing to fight until the official stops the match. There are countless images in the medical files of humans impaled with objects that would have killed 87% of Galactic Council Species.
In Standard Calendar 8327, the Vall discovered the extreme of the Human's fighting capacity when they launched an offensive against 60% of the Human held worlds. The Humans were only known to the Galactic Councel for 12 Standard years, and thought by all to be pacifists, because of the several successful treaties they brokered in their earliest years. The Vall wanted the heavy metals known to exist in the Human home solar system's asteroid belt and launched a campaign despite several rounds of negotiations. Ultimately, this was felt by the humans as a direct attack against the Human Home world, and Humans as a whole.
Today, there is no Vall Home world, and only 20% of the Vall continue to exist. The Humans have a saying where they "Make an Example" of someone. The Vall is that someone. The Vall are currently the Human's most fervent allies. they learned the hard way about the human's darker side.
The Humans are known as the best friend you could have, and the worst enemy. The Vall have seen both. I have been blessed to only have been their friend.
edited a word or two so far.
Also: wow, this took off. Thanks for the kind words and taking time to read this. | There was no doubt in anyone's mind that human beings were one of the Galaxy's most pacifistic species.
Xeno-history books tell us that once, they waged endless wars upon themselves, shedding rivers of blood and claiming little bits of land from each other on their medium-sized, blue-and-green planet. But a worldwide nuclear disaster changed their attitude irrevocably - guns and missiles were exchanged for fresh food and water to feed, and pen and paper to teach. They archived their past, good and bad, and freely distributed it. Every human eventually viewed these records; all rejoiced at the love, and all wept at the atrocities.
Humans blossomed back to life just in time for their First Contact, and the Council welcomed them with open arms. There were already too many belligerent races in the galaxy, and humans, though still flawed and imperfect in so many ways, represented an ideal. Interspecies trade flourished, both of material goods and knowledge; human became a household word for creativity and peace.
But not everyone felt so warmly about the human race.
Many alien species saw the human's pacifism as a golden opportunity. The Council was still young and fragile at this point; all of these beings, so different in appearance and mannerisms, were still learning to play and work with each other. And some of them liked to play very rough. So it was not particularly surprising when the Mad'ra, well-known for using their violence to underscore their demands, began to bully the humans as well. They wanted the rich resources on human-owned colonies, and would stop at nothing to get them. Protests from both humans and the Council did not deter them.
One day, a fleet of Mad'ra warships jumped to a human military outpost and began firing without warning. The station was devastated, and the remaining humans withdrew hastily. A plea was sent out by the human seat of power, asking for peace and diplomacy. The Mad'ra laughed it off and sent more fleets, only to find deserted stations: the humans had already retreated. They cheered in triumph over this weak prey.
Not for long, though.
On a major Mad'ra world, the citizens looked at the sky, puzzled. There were suddenly a lot more stars in the sky than usual, and what's more, they seem to be growing. Soon, the "stars" grew large enough and it was a military satellite that recognized them as human ships. Thousands of vessels, equipped with the signia for scientific research. It was confusing, but the Mad'ra simply responded the way they always did: by firing their weapons.
The ships came through, unscathed. The Mad'ra watched, slack-jawed and bewildered, as their lasers burned themselves away on force fields surrounding the ships, technology that no one had known the humans to be capable of. They did not fire back, either; they simply zoomed past, entering the atmosphere and hovering above major cities. Eventually, the Mad'ra grew tired and demanded to know what the humans thought they were doing. In response, the ships began ejecting millions of long, thin canisters that spewed out a wispy silver gas.
Within minutes, the citizens underneath began to tear each other apart. Friends and lovers turned on each other, grabbing whatever was closest at hand to destroy the other. The ships silently departed not long after, still without communication. Days and days passed as the Mad'ra government struggled to normalize the situation, mostly by waiting and despairing; they could do nothing to stop the disease of madness that had caught their people. In the end, millions lay dead or injured.
Eventually, the humans sent the Mad'ra a curt, chilling letter:
**The gas used on Bex-9 is a chemical weapon acutely based on Mad'ra neuro-biology and designed to heighten aggressiveness and fear. We released an attenuated, short-lived version as a test, one which we deem it successful. This message is your first and final warning: cease violent, anti-human operations at once or we will scale up our extermination protocol.**
The Mad'ra pulled back all their fleets immediately. They dealt poorly with groups that stood for themselves.
The message was freely accessible by all other races and it prompted the Council to make a series of laws forbidding the use of weaponry, chemical or otherwise, upon major civilian centers. In response, the human diplomats publicly apologized for their actions, despite the fact that few felt sympathetic toward the Mad'ra at all.
But feelings toward humans were changed now, at least on a subconscious level. They continued to show themselves as a bastion of peace, trade and knowledge in the galaxy, but the Mad'ra incident had raised important questions. How had the humans created such a terrifying, specific weapon in total secret, and in so little time? Did they have hidden research facilities in which they continued to upgrade and develop weaponry? And were contingency plans in place for the other races as well?
There was no doubt in anyone's mind that human beings were one of the Galaxy's most dangerous species.
____________________________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* | 2016-03-13T14:25:47 | 2016-03-13T09:42:51 | 1,823 | 1,352 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The bar was cramped full of extraterrestrial life. Zelei, Ugrak, Haelites, you name it. Every shape, size, color, smell, it was there. Music from all across the galaxy joined in chorus with rowdy and drunken laughter and conversation, a song of the Milky Way. Not everyone liked the diversity though- at the edge of the bar sat a hairy and wolf-like Fraih'mador, a tall and skinny Trailm, and a bulky, repitilian Jex- Irhad, Grunn, and Yikyik. They all shared a common distrust of strangers, a trait that ironically brought them together- that, and their involvement in intergalactic crime. On this particular day, they were looking to do some crime, and were setting their eyes on the strangest of the strange walking in- the outsiders who'd have the most money.
"Keep your eyes peeled boys- theres plenty of cash on these *hraid*" Irhad scanned the incoming waves of drinkers, darting through the strange faces. Grunn proceeded to do the same, giving Yikyik a small but careful bump on the shoulder to pay attention. Suddenly, a rare sight walked into view, one that widened Irhad and Grunn's eyes- Yikyik, not realizing the danger, stood up with a vetroknife, ready to claim his prize.
"Don't worry boys- I got this one". Irhad grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him back onto his seat.
"What the fuck? I've got this-" Irhad delivered a soft slap against Yikyik's face.
"You fucked fool! Do you know what that is?" Yikyik looked back over at the alien, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
"No, he's just an uncommon kind. What's the big deal?" Irhad pulled Yikyik closer, enough so that he could smell his rancid, meat-stained breath.
"That, is a *mother fucking human*. You do not, under *any* circumstances, fuck with that!"
"Why? It looks as weird as any other alien. Just the hair is in strange places..."
Yikyik felt another slap against his scaly face. This time, Grunn did the talking.
"This is why I told you to read more, you moron. Humans come from Earth, which if you didn't know is basically evolution's training ground for the deadliest species in the galaxy, and humans happen to be at the top of its food chain, which logically speaking makes them the toughest sons of bitches in the galaxy. I don't even know where to begin with the number of mass extinction events that planet has gone through- do you have any idea what that kind of stuff breeds? What I've seen kill others in a matter of seconds does nothing but set them back a bit. Broke your calf bone? Slammed in the face? Shot in the chest? Humans don't die from that, some even walk it off. All because of some chemical they call "adrenaline""
Yikyik was beginning to understand, but the true danger present hadn't exactly hit him yet.
"So, what, they're strong? Aren't you guys supposed to be smart? Can't you use your brains or something?" Yikyik watched as Grunn brought his palm up to his face.
"You do understand that being the best is more than just brawn, right? The humans are plenty smart, smarter than anything we've come across- what's taken us hundreds of years to understand, they did in a few decades. You know the internet? That took us nine centuries. It took them less than one. Science comes to them like a snap of the finger, and they're learning it quicker and quicker each year. It's almost kind of scary"
"And don't even get me started on their military strategy", spoke Irhad, "The tactics our generals are just beginning to put together were already done centuries ago by humans like Kahn, Caesar, Attila, Hannibal- the list goes on and on. There's a reason no one in the Galactic Council get's ugly with the humans- no one wants a repeat of the Pegasi War". A shudder went down the spine of all three.
"The Pegasi War. Never forget", mumbled Grunn. Yikyik looked back over at the human. As dangerously regarded he was by Yikyik's friends, he seemed to be the life of the party, surrounded by all sorts of alien life, bearing momentous laughs.
"He sure doesn't look threatening. At least to those guys"
"Oh, right, that's the strange thing about them. Humans aren't exactly, well, violent per say", said Irhad.
"Why's that?"
"Well, they like to solve things diplomatically. Negotiations. Deals. In the last couple of years, war has become essentially archaic to them. And even before that, they were still big on talking things out. As they've developed as a species, they've felt less of the need to kill each other. Or anything for that matter. You know what they used their cloning technology to do? Not to make armies to fight each other like everyone else, no. They used it to *feed starving nations*. Yep- they'd clone cells, grow animal meat, and then give it to the needy. Not only were they helping people, but they were solving the whole "morality of meat" debate that they had going on, for some reason. They use science and technology to find ways to avoid killing things", said Grunn.
Yikyik could see the point they were getting across, but his stubbornness got the best of him. He could tell the human was wealthy by the clothes he was wearing, as well as the many drinks he purchased for his friends- he didn't appear to be armed, so theft would just be hit and run. Yikyik stood up and walked over, despite his friends' warnings.
He walked up slowly and confidently to the human. As the alien drank with his friends, he saw Yikyik shuffling over. He gave him a warm smile, but realized his true intentions when he saw the knife in the criminal's hand. Yikyik pointed it at him, directly in his face- bad move.
"Listen punk- I know you've got a lot of money, and I have some errands I need to run. So, I'd appreciate it if-" Like lightning, the human stood, grabbed Yikyik by the arm, twisted it, and threw him onto a table. The impact was so strong, it killed him- an unintentional result on the human's part. He put his shaking hands up to his mouth.
"Oh...oh my God. Shit, I-I didn't mean to..." The human's Drittav friend put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay bro, it's just your natural instincts. C'mon, let's get out of here..."
Irhad and Grunn continued watching from the edge of the bar. Their eyes were wide, terror gripping their hearts. They had just witnessed their friend die- and, the impressive but monstrous attributes of the human. Irhad laid his four eyes on the bottom of his glass.
"Remind me to never get in bed with one of those things" | Away, over the hill that the sun was setting behind, the dreadful whirring of the rotors and actuators of the human battlesuits could be heard. Like a chorus of screaming flying gruins crying out as night fell, the air was ringing with a looming menace. At their back, the defenders had the useless cloak of night, their bunkers, and their trenches dug into the rock and soil.
The prefabricated bunkers that seemed secure and well protected to their occupants suddenly seemed as thin as the horpo leaves of a book. Far behind their own lines, the sound of a storm siren screamed. But across the vast front line, it sounded like a dying moan. A rickety metal watch tower peered over the hill.
Around him, his pack fidgeted nervously, the chitin-like ceramic armor clinking as they adjusted their goggles, their guns, their legs, checked their munition charges. The battlemarshals wanted everything the linefighters could give. Anyone that killed one was to have the most honor. Kill one human. There was no such thing.
Air-splitting long range rounds whistled through the air high above, their PYReClastic casings glowing red hot as they arced through the neon green sky. PYRe incendiary munitions had been the most impressive feat of engineering that their scientists had put together. It could burn for days at a temperature that no organic could endure for more than 5 minutes. The chemical reaction was self sustaining and incredibly hard to put out. But due to the volatile nature of the weapon, it could only be triggered just before the casing impacted the ground. It was a terror weapon used to burn a surrender out of anyone. The humans were unphased.
Hundreds of cracks of lightningless thunder boomed over the line. The glowing cases were twinkling and drifting away from each other- falling apart. Thousands of thin whisps, all straight lines, crosshatched the sky like a net. Human rail guns had intercepted the rounds.
The crimson sun finally disappeared over the hill. But in the fading light, an ominous grey cloud began to rise over the ridge. The trenches and bunkers were rattling now, the pounding march of the humans was going to shake their line apart before battle even properly commenced.
And then there they were on the ridge. Thin glints of light refracted off of their battlesuits. Faceless helmets protected their brain from being directly damaged. Large guns perched on their shoulders and in their arms were heavy cannons. All of this muddled by the black cloud that engulfed them. The most terrifying thing was the fact that each human soldier was emitting a swarm of doomsday. Minuscule nanobots that could drasticly enhanced the defensive capabilities of their already formidable suits of armor. But the worst was when the cloud was used to destroy.
Another thunderclap, much closer this time, and the watch tower exploded into fragments of fiber and metal. Those nearby bellowed in pain as shrapnel pierced the cracks in their ballistic armor. A garbled sound echoed through the trenches and the bunkers. Human language. Not many in the line could speak human language. He was not one of them.
To his left, someone had understood, "The wish for us to surrender." A thousand voices shouted and screamed their response. He remained silent and afraid. There would be no surrender.
After the war mongering calls died out bullets and bolts and heavy guns poured their payloads across the field into the human lines. The first human began to march. They all followed in line. The cloud blackened to a fluid wall as they crossed field. The black curtain hid their ranks. Until a deafening hail of gunfire exploded from behind the veil. Grenades sailed through the air and landed with perfect precision. The gunfire was sloppy but cleaved heaps of dirt and rock and linefighters away with each passing second. The bunkers and their reinforced crystalline structures were barely holding under the pressure. No linefighter dared to fire back. Those that didn't hide were summarily destroyed, their missing pieces misting the area where they once stood and fought. Now proudly dead.
The curtain suddenly raced forward, once again becoming a swarm. Millions- no billions of insects began to claw at each and every linefighter. Their armor and guns melted into useless scrap, falling off of their bodies and disintegrating into dust as they were rapidly deconstructed by the bots. The linefighter beside him began throwing rocks and gravel where he thought the humans were. The bots began to attack his nostrils and mandibles. His face melted and he began crying in pain as the bots tore open his mouth and poured into him, attacking him from the inside out.
Seconds later his faculties ceased to function and he died standing, blood and bots oozing out of the hole where his face once was.
He cowered in fear. Unable to move. There was no point. The bunkers were melting heaps of crystalline metals, their occupants nowhere to be seen. Beside him, another linefighter cowered, huddled with one set of arms wrapped around his legs and the others clamped around his ears.
The buzzing sound would haunt him for the rest of his short life. A thundering bootstomp, and above him stood a human battlesuit.
It bounded down into the trench, and turned slowly on him. It was easily as tall as one and a half of him. The face had two dark and beady glass lenses that stared lifelessly at him. The pressure of his blood made it feel like his extremities were about to pop from their joints.
Around him the buzzing still burned his ears. Death was here, and humans brought it with them.
A popping hiss and the faceplate jutted forward and then slid upwards, revealing the encased human inside. Behind another faceplate of thick glass, the human's eyes inspected him carefully. It removed a hand from the cannon it carried. A holographic transcript appeared from the upward turned palm.
*Do you surrender? Move your head up and down for an affirmative. Move your head side to side for a negative*
He vigorously shook his head up and down. Up and down.
The faceplate slid down and snapped back into place, the hologram disappeared and the hand returned to the cannon. They hoisted it back up to the firing position and turned to keep marching.
A white and red suit bounded down into the trench with him and quickly dispensed him a thin gown. It was a thinner model of the combat suit, but loaded with compartments and other devices that he wasn't sure what represented. The gown flagged him as noncombatant. Beside him, the panicking linefighter pushed the human in the black suit away, shaking his head from side to side, screaming.
The black combat suit stood back up and the hologram disappeared. The hand returned to the cannon. Instead of turning away, the cannon was leveled to execute him. Before he was aware that the white suit had even moved, they were already pushing the black suit away from the frightened linefighter.
The faceplate on the white suit popped open. The suit gently grabbed the arms of the linefighter and stilled his panic. A slightly digitized voice spoke in his native language.
Do you surrender?
Yes! He screamed. Yes!
The faceplate snapped back into place and a gown was dispensed to him. The black combat suit turned away. The white suit turned to him and across the chest a red cross was painted.
Head towards the hill. There will be a convoy to direct you to where you will be processed.
He climbed out of the trench while the white combat suit pushed the panicked linefighter out. Around them, floodlights lit the field, casting long shadows from linefighters in gowns and they and white combat suits marched towards hill.
| 2016-03-13T21:52:23 | 2016-03-13T21:42:12 | 47 | 24 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | 99.999% of all intelligent species in the galaxy are descended from their home planet's equivalent of ants or cows. It's a fact that's hard to believe, given the diverse range of body types and social structures built by said species, but it's an answer every human xeno-researcher came across after First Contact.
The "Ant" species, as a general rule of thumb, resemble human ants in behavior, if not appearance. Most have caste systems with the breeders at top with the most intelligence and authority, and the workers at the bottom. As such, their problems are mainly solved by throwing enough bodies at the issue until it works. Sheer trial and error over millions of years eventually led to their ascension to the stars.
The "Cow" species individually are of relatively high intelligence compared to the mindless workers of the Ants, and live within relative harmony to one another. Highly cooperative, they've developed elaborate herd structures and decision making methods. Only when a decision is unanimous do Cows move. In contrast to the Ants, which are divided into numerous factions even in a single species due to the disposable nature of soldiers and workers for a politically aspirant queen, Cows generally are unified among species lines. This pacifism does not extend to others. Cows are naturally paranoid, and ruthlessly seek to stamp out any potential threat. As they've reached the galactic stage, the Cows have joined together as the single largest faction, overcoming mutual distrust with a greater distaste against Ants.
When humans first hit the galactic stage, it was the Cows who gave us guidance, thinking us to be merely another Cowlike species to join their herds. They did not anticipate that we were descended from persistence predators. Ants and Cows have terrible depth perception, regardless of origin. It was skipped over sometime during evolution, with social structures in place to overcome any individuals inability to see farther than a few meters.
Humans often take ranged weaponry for granted. What we don't often realize is that we had to be selected for the ability to throw, and we built upon our own ability to throw with the development of technologies specifically related to throwing things faster and harder. Cows and Ants built upon their own natural strengths, focusing on better melee weapons, speed, and armor, never even considering attacking from beyond sight.
What's more, Ants and Cows do not pursue. They chase off threats until the threat is perceived to be out of range. Then they stop and return home. Our first war with the Carabons ended with their total surrender after they failed to realize we could and would track down their attacking vessels back to their homeworld and continue the fight months after we were believed to be "neutralized". They did not anticipate each one of our fighters being able to fight for days on end without rest, when they tired out after minutes. They did not anticipate fire raining from the sky despite theoretical knowledge of ballistics for their starships. They did not realize that even the fastest and most evasive of their speeder chariots couldn't hope to outrun laser rifles.
| Jak'tur stood on the command bridge of the galaxy's most massive Dreadnought, The Bastion. His suction-cupped hands continued to subconsciously wipe at his scaled combat suit, and his black, bulged eyes continued to scan the screens around him for any activity. The entire crew was on high alert, for they had just trespassed into human space. Though humans had not contributed to any major, or minor, galactic conflicts in the past millennium, they still struck fear into the hearts of all the species of the "Milky Way," as humans were fond of calling the galaxy.
"Admiral," his second called out, "we are approaching the rendezvous point but have not received any pings from fleet main."
"Do not ping, we might alert the humans." Jak'tur was to meet the main battle fleet of the Coalition of Independent Races a half light year from Sol 13, but had not been contacted even though he had just dropped out of jump. Something like this had been attempted before on the Human Home system, but had been met with fierce, unending resistance. The old Galactic Imperium had finally taken notice of the humans, and invaded the Sol system as well as launched minor offensives against their colonies.
The main Imperium fleet jumped into orbit around Earth and began its invasion. Before long though, the Imperium was on the run from the might of the Human military. Envoy's were sent, but the Human's would not abate until the Emperor's head was sent rolling.
And now, Jak'tur was to lead another assault upon the humans for his leaders had seen them to be weak. It was true that they did not possess a fleet such to rival the Coalition's in size, but Jak'tur knew that would not help them now.
"Admiral, radar is picking up faint signals of the fleet just on the other side of the planet."
"Bring the screen up and decrease engine power to half. Divert all remaining power to shields. Keep weapons at one quarter." Jak'tur knew what was about to happen.
The holoscreen came up just as soon a Jak'tur sat down in his command chair and showed utter carnage. The entire battle fleet lay in shatters as if stricken with some sort of great hammer. The Delphius, pride of the Corcians, was blasted in half and still spewing the fur covered, bipedal Corcians out.
"Take all power out of weapons, launch drones and power up the Jump Drive."
"Admiral Jak'tur," a familiar human face appeared on the screen. It was Admiral Cintal, a young man of immense tactical genius tasked with the safeguarding of Earth and Mars. In person, he was only about six feet tall, much shorter than the average Jintiil, but he had eyes that could pierce your mind. "Your people have come to my home, and risked open war with my people. We humans have done our best to remain peaceable and kind, but it seems that we must show our military might once more. This is Admiral Cintal to Sol Fleet Prime, you have my clearance to disengage cloak end open fire on The Bastion."
The transmission ended and Jak'tur readied himself for death. The radar lit up with a thousand red dots and death came swiftly to The Bastion. Meanwhile, a Human Battle fleet had assaulted the Coalition shipyards and destroyed the Secondary Battle Fleet that had been dispatched to cut off trade with the Florids. The Humans had once again proven their military might and silenced the voices of their foes. | 2016-03-13T18:44:24 | 2016-03-13T18:23:49 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I'm a single father of one beautiful girl. She's my whole world. As a single father I feel the need to over-compensate and I tend to spoil the girl. I often bring home toys and games for her and I to enjoy together.
I sometimes worry that I over-do it, but she loves the attention. One day, after work, we played a long game of monopoly. I let her win, even though she made several obvious mistakes with her purchases.
"You know I still love you..." I said laughing as we picked up the pieces.
"I love you too" she replied.
Those four words meant the world to me. Ever since her mother has been out of the picture things have been kind of difficult between us, but those four words just make my heart melt. If we continue to bond like this, maybe someday I can let her out of the basement.
| Hello darling, I haven't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I can't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now. | 2016-05-19T10:10:20 | 2016-05-19T09:39:43 | 408 | 33 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | What a day. My boss has never been in such a bad mood. On top of the proposal due next week, I now have a rushed budget to get out by Friday. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Every morning I dread getting out of bed, and every night I dread the next morning. I put on the smile for my colleagues, I smile and nod when my boss demands something. It keeps on piling up. The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing my wife will be waiting for me when I get home. I pull in the drive way, open the front door to my house, and there she is. Right where I left her, hanging from the rafters. | I've been a hunter all my life, the skill has been passed down for generations. I take great care of my gear; the camouflage, knives, guns, boots and other acoutrement needed for a successful hunt are all well oiled sharpened or cleaned. Most people think hunting is barbaric, evil, only for psychopaths and a litany of other descriptions that I refuse to acknowledge. For me though, there's nothing like being outside, with the sun on my skin, knowing that I'm providing sustenance for my family. I scout the area I plan to hunt for weeks before I decide to take any game. Knowing where the prey eats, drinks, and where they bed down just gives me a real connection to them. Then it's from the field to the plate as they say, I do all the butchering packaging and cooking myself, that way I know it's done right. Nothing beats the look on my kids faces when they're tearing in to a freshly caught and cooked steak. Anyway, it's time to go, Adam is leaving for the bar soon and I have to make sure I'm in the blind when he gets to... Hah! Good hunters don't give away their best spots... | 2016-05-19T13:16:11 | 2016-05-19T13:13:29 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] A "popular" girl falls in love with a "nerdy" boy, however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him
EDIT: THANK YOU ALL FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO WRITE SHORT STORIES BASED OFF MY PROMPT!! I HAVE YET TO READ ALL YOUR STORIES THOUGH, AS I'M BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND OTHER STUFF :D
I'm sorry if I have somehow ripped off your precious harem animes. That was completely unintentional. (I don't even watch anime that much)
I'm sorry if this prompt is too uncreative for you guys. Maybe next time I'll post one that's "different" enough but not so unique that I'd probably end up writing a novel about one day (I have dreams that shall never be fulfilled)
I'm sorry if I have triggered anyone somehow. | Not even a fictional piece, there are two people at my school exactly like this. I'll change names and make it dialoguey.
--
Cassie sighed a deep sigh as she walked into Theatre II, first period. She looked over at CJ casually playing on his years-old 3DS. The sounds indicated he was playing at iteration of smash.
She sat two seats away from him as always, with Cade and Katherine between them. As Mrs. Garcia began calling roll, she silently waited for her name.
"Elizabeth Allison?" "Here."
"Cassie Britfield?"
CJ looked so cute in his TMNT jacket.
"CASSIE!"
"HERE!" she cried, startled.
As soon as roll finished, people automatically rose to go attend to final details. That afternoon, the class was headed to an elementary school to perform a children's play - a sort of CD, hopefully maturing into one or two theatre department members in four to nine years. Cassie was playing a bratty princess, and CJ a kind grandfather.
Miraculously, she and CJ were both on set crew. She used this time to attempt to flirt; saying hi, asking about his interests, flipping her hair, the works. She knew she was gorgeous, but not in a self-centered way; she knew she had a good body and long, soft black hair. She just wished it mattered to CJ. NOTHING seemed to matter to him; did he even have a sex drive?
Thoughts of that had to be pushed out of her mind for now, there were set pieces to load up. After an hour of work, they were ready. A short drive to the elementary school later, they were setting up.
During which, of course, CJ went back to playing on his DS. He was too adorable to disturb, so she went about the set setup herself. Following setup, the little kids filed into the cafetorium in neat lines under the tyrannical watch of early education majors.
CJ was amazing in his performance, as always. Hidden beneath the hoodie and long, unkempt hair was a veritable acting genius. He made the kids laugh when he wanted them to laugh and they calmed when he wanted them quiet. As he came backstage once his parts were over, she congratulated him.
"Thanks, Cassie! You were great too!" He replied, ever kind. He knew she liked him and so tried to be nice in the stead of romantic interest. It just hurt more. Two years of patient kindness, not one loving word or look in return.
After the show ended and four hundred children were high-fived, striking the set was the next step. CJ thankfully worked diligently at this as opposed to setup and the work was going quickly until they crashed into each other on the tiny stage. Cassie fell backwards while CJ hit a wall and slid down it. Ever the closet gentleman, CJ scurried over to Cassie to make sure she was okay.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, worry on his face.
Cassie found it amusing that he still worried when it was a simple tumble. He had never been this close to her; he was directly above her, by maybe a foot. An irrational thought took her mind and she let it act out - she reached up, put her hand on the back of his neck, sat up on one elbow, and kissed him.
The rest of the day registers as a blur in Cassie's memory. She knows CJ screamed in surprised disgust and toppled backwards, hitting his head on a metal cart (causing yet another yell). People came to the scene and laughed. She sat in silence during the drive back and the drive home. It all merged together in a whir of laughter, yells, and green hoodies.
And once she was home, she cried.
---
Please note that this story is a somewhat dramatized account of an actual event. Names are changed as are certain chronological elements.
For those who may want to know what happened afterwards, CJ changed to a policy of avoidance of Cassie, which did nothing to affect her feelings. It's now about a calendar year later and she still likes him, and he still will have nothing to do with her. | Jonathan ran, his arms outstretched behind him, like the wings of a mighty bird of prey. He flew through the classroom leaping past desks and his classmates alike. He stopped at Billy's desk and karate chopped the papers and books onto the floor. Jonathan squealed in glee as he fled the scene at breakneck speed.
It was recess and only Billy remained at his desk going over See Jack Run over and over. For such a classical piece of literature Billy thought it was remarkably difficult to understand. Billy took his time though, he was going to be smart, he was going to graduate and finally make the millions he had dreamt about his whole life. Billy knew he could achieve anything he set his mind to, so he set his sights on the books before him.
Julie watched from across the room, surrounded by her usual gaggle of giggling girls and the occasional boy who managed to muster enough courage to try and actually talk to her. She was queen bee, and the swarm of boys that buzzed around the room amused her. Julie knew that with a word, any of these boys would quit showing off and do whatever she asked. All of them except Billy. She looked at Jonathan as he ran up to her to collect his reward; a small hug, and a smile that was thought to be a major factor of global warming by those blessed enough to receive one. Jonathan tried to talk to her, but he was quickly dismissed by Julie's annoyed look. The girls closed ranks around Julie, scavenging Jonathans momentary attentiveness to boost their own standings. The vultures, thought Julie, but only for a moment as she looked back at Billy struggling his way through Math now. Julie mumbled to softly to herself, thinking of new schemes to once and for all have every person in the class recognize her greatness. A small thought emerged in her pretty little head, if she could just have Billy, she would need anyone else.
Billy sat in his usual chair at the front of the class, he had transferred a week ago, and was still completely oblivious to the social interactions of his classmates. That suited him well though, all Billy needed was his studies. If only that girl Julie would stop trying to get my attention, Billy thought. Once again another boy flew past knocking Billy's school supplies onto the floor. Billy shook his head, he knew he was a bit bigger than the other kids, but Billy knew violence would only get him in trouble. He lowered his head back into the crevasse of his math book and tried to figure out why some numbers were so darn smug. Darn prime numbers, think their better than everyone else, Billy thought.
She had done all the classic moves; laughed at all his jokes, picked him for her group projects; she had even gone so far as to pinch AND punch him, in one day nonetheless. What else would it take to get Billy to notice her, Julie contemplated. Finally she had had it, a week had passed and graduation was approaching quickly for Billy, she had to act fast. With the help of her friends and lackeys, no one knew which they were, Julie created her grandest scheme yet. She would make him love her even if she had to do so by force. On the day of Billy's graduation Julie put on her cutest outfit and ran to class, she was determined to kiss him before he left. Everyone in the class knew her plan except the teacher and of course Billy himself.
Billy knew something was wrong as he entered the classroom for his last time, he was finally moving on to the next grade. As he walked through the door Julie leapt from the side and grasped his neck firmly in her arms as she went for her big moment, but Billy brought one hand around and stopped her lips cold with his oddly large palm.
Julie was stunned, "WHY" she screamed. "Why don't you like me", she hadn't meant to be so loud, but the rejection shook her to the core.
Billy stumbled back shocked, "WHY", he said incredulously. "I'm 27 years old, that is WHY" Billy whined.
I haven't seen Billy in some time, but as his former teacher I do keep track of my students. I hear Billy is doing quite well, something about a hotel chain. Very impressive stuff. Julie never recovered from the incident. I hear she became some kind of public relations director at a golf course, but the man she is with is just horrible, some ass named Shooter McGavin. I do hope she find someone better someday. Oh well, till next time, on stories from behind the teachers desk.
| 2016-05-29T11:05:26 | 2016-05-29T10:33:11 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You've just invented time travel. You decide to go exactly 1 year into the future and speak to the first person you see, "Hey what day is it?" "364." "What do you mean 364?" "It's been 364 days since the incident. | "364."
"What do you mean, 364?"
"364 days since the incident."
These words... burned. Ached. My heart skipped a beat.
He couldn't be serious, but after *time traveling,* what disbelief could remain?
"Mind... uh, refreshing my memory? What incident?"
"If only I knew, pal. Govermment's got it on lockdown. They just refer to it as 'The Incident,' like we're in a shitty horror movie or something."
A solitary, ephemeral moment of relief. It must just be a coincidence. That's what I wanted to believe. Then he continued.
"All we've been told is it has something to do with time travel. Sounds like a big load of crap to me, but hey, whatever makes 'The Incident' sound all the more imposing, right?"
There's the pain again. This time more like the stabbing of tiny knives. The way he just passes it off, speaking more to himself than to me, an impossibly casual demeanor... There's no denying it now; I'm guilty.
"Uh... yea. Thanks."
I could barely muster any more than that. Panic starts to set in. I walk away slowly, and once I'm out of sight, quickly. Run. I start running. I couldn't tell you where my destination was if I tried, but it sure as hell isn't here.
My hometown never had a gate before. But that was because it didn't have walls.
A woman with short, jet-black hair stood by the gate, wearing something in between clothes and armor. She was unarmed, but that only made her more intimidating. She didn't need a weapon. You could tell.
At this point I froze. Rather, my mind froze. My heart froze. My feet, for whatever reason, did not freeze. I walked slowly towards the gate, and in my peripheral vision I could see her do a double take. Her face was unreal. Like she had just seen Bigfoot's pet unicorn.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm going to have to see your I.D."
I knew I was going to have to acknowledge her, one way or another. The gate was closed, for fucks sake! What did I expect?
I try to be as calm as possible. Running would only make this already terrible situation worse. I could only hope it was a coincidence. It wasn't.
"I'll be damned, you're the guy, huh?"
There was... no hostility in her voice.
"Please come with me, sir."
There was a distinct lack of handcuffs and headlocks. I still felt, of course, like I was in danger. I... followed her. I followed her and asked the dumbest of questions.
"Am... I being detained?"
The woman let out an extremely dry chuckle.
"No, no, of course not. We have a job for you."
*(TO BE CONTINUED??????)* | An ant crawled along a forest floor. It was getting late, the ant knew to follow its instincts and return home. The ant's six legs carried it at a moderate speed, at least relative to ants. He crawled over fallen leaves that had turned yellow, a rotting insect corpse of unidentifiable origin to the ant, and fallen tree branch. Eventually, the ant came up to a large flat area. This is where its home was. The forest opened up into a grassy area. The blades of grass were much taller than the ant, but the ant had to go through it to get home, so it didn't matter. After the ant walked for a while, it came across a sandy hill. That was the ant's home. The ant began to walk faster than its original moderate speed. Maybe ants experience excitement and he wanted to get home, maybe the ant wanted to be inside of the ant hill before the time and space above it exploded open. The ant and the ant hill were instantly vaporized, the ant never even made it to the hill.
The explosion lasted for a while, but it didn't quite explode out, it remained at a constant size. Maybe it isn't an explosion, but some sort of portal to somewhere other than where it was now. Nevertheless, it was an explosion to the ants. Soon enough a person walked through the portal. "Woo!" he exclaimed. "I'm pretty sure I just time traveled." he wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure. He took a few steps and the portal behind him closed. He looked out into the distance. On one side, past the grassy field, he saw a freeway. On the other side, a forest. He turned to look at the freeway. He was looking for cars. He waited for a while, probably about five minutes, and not a single car drove on the freeway that he could see. "Something tragic must've happened when I traveled forward in time. There's no cars! I better check the forest, I need to ask the first person I see what day it is." he talked to himself a lot, isn't that peculiar, people use language to talk to themselves. He strode off into the forest.
The man walked a while, probably for about ten minutes, then he came across another man. "Hey!" the man from the portal shouted as he ran towards the other man. "What day is it?" The man from the portal caught up to the other man. The other man looked at him oddly and said,
"364."
"What do you mean 364?"
"It's been 364 days since the incident."
"What?!" the man from the portal yelled. "What incident?"
The other man looked at him hard and long, his eyes were serious... Then he cracked a smile and started laughing. "I'm just messing with you man, it's June 30th, 2017. You gotta be like a time traveler right?"
The man from the portal blinked hard. "Uh.. Yeah I guess I am. I'm pretty sure I invented it."
"I think you did too, bro. There's no time travel now. So congratulations! You wanna smoke some weed and go Denny's? Oh weed is legal by the way. Come on let's catch you up."
The two men went off to Denny's after smoking a blunt. They both got the Grand Slam breakfast.
| 2016-06-30T10:01:58 | 2016-06-30T09:38:02 | 82 | 13 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | "The mark... it is you!"
I rolled my eyes.
"No, it is most certainly not me. I swear, I am not the subject of your ridiculous prophecy. Yes, it slightly resembles a dragon, but maybe it's a lizard! And if you look at it from this angle it resembles a bird! I'm telling you this is a coincidence."
"No. We have waited for this day for generations. You are here to liberate us."
I glared at him, his pointy ears infuriating me. His face was turning red with excitement, or frustration. He searched for the words to convince me.
"The one with the dragonmark and the hair of gold will bring our people riches untold!"
"Well it's actually more of a dirty blonde, but that's beside the point. You and I do not know each other. To be frank, I couldn't care less about your suffering. I'm exhausted of this damn birthmark and the crap it brings me. No. Don't speak to me."
I stormed off, leaving the saddened elf standing wearily behind me. After three days of hard travel, I came to a village inn to rest. I sat down at the bar, and ordered a pint of hard ale. A grizzled old man next to me looked at the visible mark on my hand.
"So you're the one they told of long ago..." he began.
I was out the door before he could even finish.
----
Edit: Wow! I don't really do many writing prompts but this blew up... thanks for all the kind words and up votes! | ######[](#dropcap)
"Master." The monk bowed low.
I sighed. "For the last time, I'm not the reincarnation of Tian Long. I am not a long dead kung-fu master. I can't do magic. Why won't you assholes just leave me alone?"
He smiled politely, but in that slightly superior way that let me know that he didn't believe a word I'd said.
Bloody monks. They'd been on my case since that fateful afternoon when, aged five, my mother had let my play topless in the park fountain. A monk had tried to give her a copy of the Bhagavad Gita and seen the large birthmark on my chest.
A dragon? It looked more like a donkey. Frankly, I had been pretty ashamed of it ever since Winona Jane had burst out laughing while we were making out in the empty History classroom. I still hated that bitch.
"Master Xi," the monk said. This one was a persistant devil. "Danger is coming. You must be prepared."
"Listen, buddy," I said, grabbing the collar of his robe and shaking his scrawny frame. "The only danger I'm in is a prison sentance after I wring your neck."
He seemed unphased. "Very good, master, but the great wizard Huan Li has come to America to hunt you. For the prophecy states..."
"Screw the damn prophecy!," I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by screams from behind me.
A man was floating down from the sky into the middle of the shopping mall. Fire covered his hands. Lightning crackled from his hair.
He looked straight at me, and spoke in a booming voice that echoed around the mall. "Tian Long. I am Huan Li. Let us fight."
---
**[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage/comments/4w81b5/the_boy_with_the_dragon_birthmark_part_2/)**
*Read more of my stories at [/r/jd_rallage](http://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage)* | 2016-08-04T11:23:48 | 2016-08-04T10:49:56 | 1,455 | 417 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | They were staring at me again. Eyes wide, mouths slightly agape. I sighed. "Hi. Look, I got your message. But I'm not-"
"You're him!" One of them explained. Pretty enough lass, head of gold, but obviously empty. "You're the one who can talk with them."
"I'm really not." I tried to force a smile onto my face - or rather, I let my lips tug the sides of my mouth up. The stupid birthmark had been nothing but trouble since I was born. Worse, it was on my face, running from the top of my left eyebrow to the side of my right lip. Impossible to hide.
"The swirling detail... the intricacies... there can be no doubt..." This one was black as pitch, but his eyes were wide, and he leaned forward over the pile of crap he'd apparently left on the floor. "It is true. You are the bridge between our worlds." He smiled slightly. "You will remain here. You are far too important to us all to be allowed to leave."
I felt my patience snap. With a roar I lurched forward, closing my jaws around his scaly black neck, tearing his throat out in a single movement. The gold one I burnt, melting her golden hide beneath a wave of flame.
When it was done, I gathered up as much of the black dragon's hoard in my arms as I could carry, spread my wings, and flew out over the lake at the cave's entrance. As the world whipped past beneath me, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glassy surface of the water. Red scales, golden eyes - not a bad looker, if I do say so myself. But disfigured by that stupid birthmark over my face: two legs, two arms, long flowing hair. All incredibly detailed. All incredibly meaningless.
*Just a coincidence*, I thought, not for the first time. *I'm not some stupid humanborn.* | Your friends had always pestered you to get an account on that godforsaken app, Tinder. You'd always declined because of that stupid fucking birthmark-- you knew how any internet date would go given the mark's shape and more importantly, location. After six months of brushing them off, the nagging loneliness building inside you coupled with the recent redoubling of their efforts("What if you die alone? We just care about you!" Thanks, Karen.) led to your making an account. To avoid as much bullshit as possible, you attach a photo of the mark in addition to the typical barrage of selfies. Almost immediately, you get a match and agree to meet up with the boy-- partially due to you finding him attractive(what with his long, fantastic beard and luscious man bun), but more due to your friends finding him so attractive(Fuck you, Karen).
You approach the movie theatre and see him standing outside the ticket booth, tapping away at his phone. He is disappointingly bald, as well as clean-shaven, but you find yourself victimized by your fear of sunk costs, and you re-adjust the tube top you're wearing, suck in your stomach, and plod on.
"Hey," you greet as enthusiastically as possible. Immediately his eyes travel down to your chest and his jaw hangs open a little bit. Just as yours is about to clench, he normalizes his disposition and greets you in return.
"I didn't realize how long the birthmark was.. does the fact that it's coming out of your cleavage have any significance?" You roll your eyes, but, having heard this all before(and having given up all expectations of this date going well), decide to have a bit of fun with this.
"I don't know what you're trying to ask."
"Well," he continues, "Do you have powers? Like.. magic boob powers?"
That's a new one, you think sarcastically before shifting your weight and giving him a once over.
"Well," you continue, mocking his tone, "I haven't asked you about YOUR shape-shifting powers yet."
"My powers?" He echoes, confused.
"Yeah, how else would you have gone from being a lumberjack on your Tinder profile to a lesbian in person?"
(my first try at a W/P. critiques not only welcome but preferred to praise. thanks :>) | 2016-08-04T18:02:19 | 2016-08-04T15:02:23 | 36 | 18 |
[WP] Jupiter has 64 moons and a serious werewolf problem.
Edit: damn there's some quality responses here. I wasn't expecting this prompt to be so popular. Good job u guys | The pilot - a twelve-limbed Jovian floatspider - tapped almost idly at the controls of the shuttle, firing the thrusters with mind-boggling precision. I glanced surreptitiously at the display on my own Earth-made manoeuvring tablet. The screen blinked red with warning text, screaming electronically that the shuttle was out of position, couldn't possibly make orbit, that we had to start a burn immediately...but as I watched, our orbit circularised smoothly, threading itself perfectly through the orbital traffic above Mars, without the pilot so much as glancing at its display. It brought us into a perfect orbit by eye, and using a quarter of the propellant my tablet had calculated was the absolute minimum. It was awe-inspiring.
"Seriously," I asked an hour later, as we prepared to leave the flight deck, "How do you do it? It's absolutely unbelieveable!"
The being had no name as we would understand it. The Jovians in general have a very fluid concept of identity, with an individual shifting between different names and identities sometimes over a few hours. It was part of what I was here to study - if I could make sense of the way the being spoke. It took a little work.
"Moon shift," it said (or bubbled into its translator, I should say). "Understanding place, without. Prediction."
"I...think I understand," I replied into my own translator. "You mean you learned it by watching...the moons?"
It shook its mantle violently in disagreement. "Moon shift!" it said insistently. "Survival necessity, moonlight. Predict moons live, without."
"You...need to know where the moons are...to survive? Why?"
Together we stepped out onto the red surface of Mars, the Jovian being deep in thought as it tried to construct the words.
"Moon path...know easy." It began to trace a pair of circles in the air around its head with two of its limbs. "Safe moon..." limb behind its head, "...bad moon." Limb in front of a set of eyes. "Knowing path if, life. Knowing path not if, not live. See?"
"You mean you have an instinctive understanding of orbital mechanics?" I asked, watching it trace the orbits further. "But why are moons dangerous?"
And that was when the full Phobos rose above the Martian horizon. | "Car Sixty Two, we've got one. Intersection of Sixth, Halliday, and Uptown Drive."
We hit the lights and sirens and get on the move, that's a bad corner. Most of the business hired their own security a year ago to deal with the problem.
Ricky seems to be unconcerned as we rocket up towards the cubic intersection, we'll come from below. Chase a wolf up, never down. Higher they get the less options they have.
I suppose we shouldn't be concerned. Crime is virtually non-existent because of this job. We just have one problem.
"Hope things don't get hairy out there..." he says.
I groan and punch his shoulder. He grins at me and the tension disappears until very suddenly there is a werewolf on the front of our cruiser, scrabbling and scratching at the hood and windshield.
"Found him."
I roll my eyes and then notice the collar.
"Ah shit. That's Wei. He runs that restaurant on the corner, hell of a place."
"No Wei!" Ricky says it with a grin, deftly handling the cruiser's increasing altitude as we rocket upwards.
No time to give him grief for that one. I finally manage to get my tranq out of the holster, it was pinned against the door, and roll down my window. This might just be the easiest call we've ever had.
That's when a claw slams into my hand and tosses the tranq out of my grip and tumbling down towards the near endless bottom of Uptown Drive. I watch it fall with my head out the window and then get back in and look at Ricky.
"You dropped it again didn't you, Butter Fingers?"
I nod.
"You drop mine again and I'll boot you out to get it, got me?"
I nod.
He hands me his gun and I stick the top half of my body out the window again, pumping a few darts into the flailing wolf. Slowly he goes limp, sprawling on the hood of our cruiser like a very strange rug.
"Dispatch, we've got one for the tank," I say into the radio while Ricky gently guides the cruiser so Wei doesn't slide off to follow my sidearm.
"Eh, kid...we might have a problem."
I follow his gaze to the Uptown Apartment block. It's the high end, both literally and figuratively. The rich live up here in the upper levels, about two thousand people in their luxury apartments above the rest of the city.
Ricky's got his eyes on something else though.
About fifty pairs of eyes watching us. Eyes rimmed with shaggy fur and neat fur and black fur and white fur and-
"We might need to leave." Ricky interrupts my chain of thought.
I nod.
Then they leap towards us and I reach for my gun.
That's how an already bad night got worse. | 2016-10-03T09:05:02 | 2016-10-03T08:54:41 | 66 | 45 |
[WP] You come to find out that every time you die, you wake up 10 days in the past with all your memories intact. After a few deaths you start abusing this newfound power of yours. | The first time you die, you're 5 and 3/4.
You're thrashing when you wake up. Your tears are hot. Mommy comes running in, and the tightness in your tummy loosens. You run and cling to her and ask her why she left you. "I didn't leave you," she says. "I'm right here." You tell her she left you in the pool. "The pool? What pool? You must have been dreaming."
Mommy's always right, so you believe her. Next week is Memorial Day, and Mommy asks if you want to go to swimming since the pool just opened for the summer. She bought you a mask so you can breathe underwater. You remember dreaming that you threw up in the mask.
You say no.
------
The second time you die, you're definitely not in your mid-30's yet. Mid-30's is at least a year away, for some definitions of "mid-30's," and it's perfectly acceptable to be still single at this age - despite your mom's bitching. (There's a reason you don't call home anymore.)
You're heading out early from a bar crawl with all three of your friends that aren't watching some kids crawl, belly full of beer and a sudden yearning for cheese curds in your heart. You point out the 24 hour fast food joint across the street, because even if they probably don't have cheese curds, you could definitely settle for some onion rings.
You remember a walk sign being lit, screaming, and a sudden crash as the air is forced out of your lungs.
You wake up shakily the next day, panting for air, not having slept well. You roll over and realize that you're late for work and nearly tear out of the house to catch the bus before you realize you haven't yet put pants on.
Arriving late to the meeting, you take a seat in the back and pull out your notepad when you begin frowning. Didn't they discuss this already, and a decision made? Was there some edge case they missed that required this rediscussion? Pulling out your phone, you double-check your work calendar.
You were right, you have attended this meeting already. Ten days ago.
It's there, in the middle of a conference room, that you remember that you died. Or something. Because that doesn't make any sense.
Over the next couple days, you cautiously bring this up with your friends. "Wow, sounds like you had a bad trip," they all say. "What were you on?"
Uncomfortably, you laugh it off, because what can you do but conveniently forget to forward the Facebook event for a bar crawl to your friends?
-------
The third time you die, you don't die a physical death.
You're 52, like or it or not. The light on your phone has been going off for hours, but you've been too busy all day to check it due to an unusually hellish day at work. You've got a product launch at the end of the week and everything, of course, is falling apart at the last minute. You leave your phone at your desk as you're running around the office trying to patch everything together at the last minute.
You don't bother checking your phone until after a late dinner, because you're mostly sure that they're going to be all work related and by God, you need a break. There's a voicemail, which makes you roll your eyes. Who leaves voicemails nowadays anyways? Turns out, your brother does, and it's only a few seconds long.
"Hey. You're too late, by the way. Mom died last night. Nice going."
Suddenly you're five again, and your tummy is clenched, and it's hard to breathe, but you're not thrashing, you're still; and your mom doesn't come rushing in, even though you half expect her to, like a shitty April fool's day joke that was pulled too early.
There are texts from your mom, written in the chat speech you had begged her not to write in because it makes her look like an illiterate teenage girl.
"Call home"
"i need to talk to u"
"hello?"
"Call when u get this msg"
"i love u"
On the way to the convenience store, you phone your brother. A freak accident, or something. For some reason you can't fully hear him. He sounds muffled, like he's underwater. A car crash? You heard a car crash. You just wanted some cheese curds. She only had a few hours. Your head is spinning.
"Long day?" the man behind the counter says sympathetically, ringing up your purchase. You nod mutely.
You go to bed that night with a glass of water and an emptied bottle of sleeping pills.
That's the fourth time you die.
----------
When you wake up the next day, you take a deep breath. You can breathe again.
After you send an email to your team telling them not to forget about a particular use case critical to launch, your thumb hovers briefly over the call button on your phone. When was the last time you had called home? You can't remember.
"Hello?"
Another deep breath. Your tears are hot.
"Hi, Mom." | Beep-beep... Beep-beep...
There was the all familiar sound of my alarm clock, going off at 8 a.m. sharp, just like it did every other morning. Only, this time the last thing that I remembered was not laying down on my soft tempur-pedic. The last thing that I remembered was walking home from my late shift at Pizza Hut, but then I was mugged. He had a gun, and I tried to fight back, and that's where the memories stopped.
As I crawled out of bed, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. "Was that just all a dream?" No way, that was way to vivid and drawn out to be a dream, hell, I remember the entirety of my Pizza Hut shift. "If, I'm still alive after being mugged by a guy with a gun, why aren't I waking up in a hospital bed?"
I made my way to the bathroom, took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. I was still living with my parents, because I couldn't afford to rent an apartment or a dorm, so I went to my local community college. As my mom passed me a plate of scrambled eggs, she said, "Don't you have your calculus final today?"
"Um, no mom, that was over a week ago." I remembered that test well, I was just starting to forget how poor I must have done on it, but of course I had to be reminded of it. I had another late shift the night before it, so I didn't quite get as much time to study as I would have liked.
"Umm are you sure?" she said to me in a doubting tone. "I was fairly positive that your calendar said it May third."
Now I was really confused. "Yeah mom, that WAS the date of it, but that was over a week ago."
"Honey, are you feeling OK? I can promise you that today is in fact May third," she said to me, trying her hardest to hide her giggles.
"One second mom." I raced up to my room and turned on my laptop. Sure enough, the bottom right corner read, "5/3/16."
I wasn't sure what this meant, or what was happening, or whether or not I was trapped int he fucking Twilight Zone, but I did know one thing. I had remembered a lot of those test questions were on, and I still had five hours before the final.
~10 days later
This time, I had for sure aced that test. I was so proud of myself. As I walked home from that shift at Pizza Hut, I came across that alley where I had been mugged, and I immediately got a bad feeling.
Before I could turn around, I felt a man's arm go around my neck, and the cold metal barrel pressed up against my temple. And there he went, using the same line that he had used before. "If you try to run or fight back, I'll blow your fucking brains out. Do us both a favor and just give me your goddamn wallet."
Last time, I had thought that I could escape his grasp and get away, but obviously I was wrong. This time however, I was extremely confident. I knew what mistake I had made before, and this time I sought to correct it. Instead of elbowing him in the gut, this time I would just knee him in the balls.
At first, I had thought it worked, because while he was in the ground holding onto his groin, I had taken his gun and was now pointing it at him. Once he saw how the situation had updated, he put his hands up, and said "Come on man, please don't, I wasn't really going to shoot you. I just really needed some money."
I wasn't really paying attention though, all I could think about was that I was about to kill a man. He must have felt my focus on him deteriorate, because he kicked my legs out from the ground, took the gun back, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, "Boy, you really are dumber than you look."
Beep-beep... Beep-beep...
All I could feel was deja-vu as I crawled out of bed, showered, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. I had the same conversation that I had with my mom two times prior, but this time I knew that my Calculus test was today. Although, last time, since I wasn't sure why I had traveled 10 days into the past, I had written down the problems on the calculus final that I wasn't quite sure about. I guess that it paid off.
After acing my calculus test, which was a cakewalk the third time, I couldn't stop thinking about my new... power? Curse? I wasn't quite sure what it was, but all that I did know is that I didn't want to die again. So I spent the next 10 days plotting how I would out-do the mugger. Eventually, I had come up with a fool proof plan.
10 days later, I had just finished my late shift, but this time, I called the police and reported a mugging on the street where I had died twice. With some research, it appeared that if i walked slightly faster that usual, I would get to the place at about the average police response time for my city.
Sure enough, about 30 second after the man pulled his gun, 2 cop cars rolled up, guns drawn, and the man was put into handcuffs.
The next day, I found out he even had a bounty on his head, so along with not dying, I also got 5,000 dollars. I could tell this ability I had picked up was going to make life go a lot easier.
edit: changed remember to forget so that things actually made sense | 2016-11-02T20:34:43 | 2016-11-02T19:34:01 | 373 | 115 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | The Grand High Weaver, Spinner of Threads, Architect of Fates looked in disbelief at the tangled, twisted mess on the floor before him.
"What do you mean you dropped it!?" He demanded of his acolyte, a lesser nephalem who managed only a whimper in response.
"Do you have any idea of the effects that this will have? An entire year, ruined! What kind of *idiot* are you to be so careless? This is the narrative of the universe itself!"
He spun to face the nepahlem and found her weeping, huddled into a ball, her many wings quivering as she sobbed. His rage dwindled and he let out a long sigh.
"Ahh, don't worry about it lass" he muttered, "we all make mistakes from time to time. We're only divine after all".
She raised her gaze at that, wide, tear-filled eyes meeting his.
"Go and put it with the others" he gestured, "I'll see if I can salvage things for 2017". | A meteor fell over the planet, then suddenly it exploded before the impact, revealing an army of naked winged women hellbent on taking over the world. they would do so by taking as many men (or women, if you prefer) to their bedchambers aboard a cosmic spaceship as was humanly possible.
shortly after the complete sexual subjugation of the human race, the young teenager woke up from his acid induced dream to find that it was in fact, all just a dream, he would later wake up again from his dream within a dream to find himself on his deathbed.
not one to be oneupped by death, he immediately willed himself better and proceeded to fly around and take out his pent up sexual frustrations on the world at large by shooting laser beams out of his eyes and destroying entire districts by bathing them in crimson eye flames.
just as things were looking grim however, godzilla showed up and the two battled for fifty straight weeks without rest, eventually godzilla was defeated.
but, as it turns out godzilla was just having an incredibly complex nightmare, soon he awoke at the bottom of the ocean floor, his body suffering from bruises and electrical scars, and glancing around, the first thought that crossed his mind was "SKKKREEEEEEEEOOOOOONK?!" which roughly translates into "where the hell did that giant monkey who force fed me a tree go? i swear to god one day I'll make him pay for this humiliation!!"
apparently being electrocuted and left to die on the ocean floor shortly after the climax of godzilla vs king kong makes you have extremely messed up dreams. | 2016-11-27T11:08:21 | 2016-11-27T11:06:12 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | The Grand High Weaver, Spinner of Threads, Architect of Fates looked in disbelief at the tangled, twisted mess on the floor before him.
"What do you mean you dropped it!?" He demanded of his acolyte, a lesser nephalem who managed only a whimper in response.
"Do you have any idea of the effects that this will have? An entire year, ruined! What kind of *idiot* are you to be so careless? This is the narrative of the universe itself!"
He spun to face the nepahlem and found her weeping, huddled into a ball, her many wings quivering as she sobbed. His rage dwindled and he let out a long sigh.
"Ahh, don't worry about it lass" he muttered, "we all make mistakes from time to time. We're only divine after all".
She raised her gaze at that, wide, tear-filled eyes meeting his.
"Go and put it with the others" he gestured, "I'll see if I can salvage things for 2017". | James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers. | 2016-11-27T11:08:21 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | Two brothers. In a van. And then a meteor hit. And they ran as fast as they could. From giant cat-monsters. And then a giant tornado came. And that's when things got knocked into twelfth gear...
A Mexican...armada shows up. With weapons made from to- tomatoes. And you better betch'ur bottom dollar that these two brothers know how to handle business.
In! 'Alien...Invasion Tomato Monster Mexican Armada Brothers...Who Are Just Regular Brothers Running...in a Van from an...Asteroid and All Sorts of Things: The Movie'.
Hold on! There's more. Old women are comin'! And they're also in the movie and they're gonna come...and cross...attack...these two brothers. But let's get back to the brothers because they're- they have a strong bond! You don't wanna know about it here, but I'll tell you one thing.
The Moon. It comes crashing into Earth! And whaddya do then? It's two brothers and I- and...and they're gonna...it's called 'Two Brothers' ...'Two Brothers'...it's just called 'Two Brothers'! | A meteor fell over the planet, then suddenly it exploded before the impact, revealing an army of naked winged women hellbent on taking over the world. they would do so by taking as many men (or women, if you prefer) to their bedchambers aboard a cosmic spaceship as was humanly possible.
shortly after the complete sexual subjugation of the human race, the young teenager woke up from his acid induced dream to find that it was in fact, all just a dream, he would later wake up again from his dream within a dream to find himself on his deathbed.
not one to be oneupped by death, he immediately willed himself better and proceeded to fly around and take out his pent up sexual frustrations on the world at large by shooting laser beams out of his eyes and destroying entire districts by bathing them in crimson eye flames.
just as things were looking grim however, godzilla showed up and the two battled for fifty straight weeks without rest, eventually godzilla was defeated.
but, as it turns out godzilla was just having an incredibly complex nightmare, soon he awoke at the bottom of the ocean floor, his body suffering from bruises and electrical scars, and glancing around, the first thought that crossed his mind was "SKKKREEEEEEEEOOOOOONK?!" which roughly translates into "where the hell did that giant monkey who force fed me a tree go? i swear to god one day I'll make him pay for this humiliation!!"
apparently being electrocuted and left to die on the ocean floor shortly after the climax of godzilla vs king kong makes you have extremely messed up dreams. | 2016-11-27T12:58:55 | 2016-11-27T11:06:12 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | Two brothers. In a van. And then a meteor hit. And they ran as fast as they could. From giant cat-monsters. And then a giant tornado came. And that's when things got knocked into twelfth gear...
A Mexican...armada shows up. With weapons made from to- tomatoes. And you better betch'ur bottom dollar that these two brothers know how to handle business.
In! 'Alien...Invasion Tomato Monster Mexican Armada Brothers...Who Are Just Regular Brothers Running...in a Van from an...Asteroid and All Sorts of Things: The Movie'.
Hold on! There's more. Old women are comin'! And they're also in the movie and they're gonna come...and cross...attack...these two brothers. But let's get back to the brothers because they're- they have a strong bond! You don't wanna know about it here, but I'll tell you one thing.
The Moon. It comes crashing into Earth! And whaddya do then? It's two brothers and I- and...and they're gonna...it's called 'Two Brothers' ...'Two Brothers'...it's just called 'Two Brothers'! | James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers. | 2016-11-27T12:58:55 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family. | Ethan couldn’t wait to try out the game - from what he’d seen of the trailers, the graphics were eerily realistic. Though Sims 4 had been good, it had never been *quite* realistic enough for him.
When he got home and popped in the CD, he began jotting out his plans for his first family. He couldn’t wait to get started. He built the house carefully: a pool surrounding them, a nice, roomy basement. A family of eight, six of them children.
At first, it was the same as usual. His sims' needs plummeted as he deprived them of food and sleep. It was fun, but not exactly anything new.
It was only when they started working together on their own, to escape the basement, that he begun to wonder. This wasn’t supposed to happen. One of the drawbacks of the game - they were just stupid, simulated people, doing exactly what he told them. Not like real people. *Real* people would act like this, would try to escape.
His hands trembled with excitement as he tried to direct them. Some - like the smallest children - obeyed, while others appeared to be screaming directly at him. One of the parents refused to attack his own children like he’d ordered, instead breaking down in tears on the floor.
There could only be one explanation.
“You’re all real, aren’t you? You’re real,” he whispered, leaning back from the computer as he considered the implications of this.
If they were real, did that mean he was God? He’d always suspected, but this was surely a sign…a signal. He turned his eyes on the sims again. Feverishly, lost in the dark world he had been afraid to imagine up to this point, he began to play in earnest.
-----------
“I’ve got something, sir,” agent Katherine Masters said, showing her supervisor the live feed of one of the webcams.
A pale-faced young man’s eyes were lit with joy as he tortured a family of eight.
“Good job, Katherine,” agent Daniel Simmons murmured, hastening over to check the feed for himself.
As always, he felt slightly nauseous as he watched the man’s enraptured expression.
Right from the start, the Sadism Identification Mechanism operation had been a massive pain in the ass to get approved and implemented. First there was the game’s development. It had been a long, tedious slog, to get the coding perfect - to make the sims behave as unpredictably as possible.
Then the marketing - its number of sales were crucial to their operation’s success. And above all, getting approval to hack into the players’ webcams. It would be a disaster if details of the operation became public, even though they abandoned most of the feeds after a week. Watching someone direct their sims to go to work and make pancakes was hardly a good use of their resources.
But then there were others.
The ones who made the red tape and headaches worth it. The ones who proved that the game could be a revolutionary tool to catch some perpetrators early. Those who would likely move on from torturing highly realistic, simulated people - to real people.
“You’ve got the address?” he asked.
“All his details,” Katherine confirmed.
“Keep watching him,” Daniel said. “We need more."
Katherine started to reply, when they heard Ethan whisper something in a fervent tone, like he was praying.
“You’re all real, aren’t you? You’re real,” he said. Instead of seeming uneasy, the boy looked ecstatic.
“Delusions,” Daniel noted. “Interesting. Focus only on him for now, Katherine.”
She nodded, stifling a sigh. It was draining work, looking into these people’s eyes when they thought no-one was watching. It had already been a pain with the previous games. But somehow, the things she saw only got worse as the games got more realistic. People got increasingly carried away as they dreamt they could control actual people.
"Yesss! I'm God!" Ethan was whispering to himself as he drowned two of his sims in the pool, while another was consumed by flames in the kitchen.
Katherine made a note of that, shaking her head as she took a sip of coffee. The number of people who immediately jumped to *that* conclusion was rather disturbing.
--------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | New Orleans is a prime location to get drunk. And I was a prime volunteer.
The combination of street performers, open drinking laws, magical Mardi Gras beads, and bourbon street almost guaranteed a blackout whenever I took a vacation there- and if they didn't, they the buddies I brought along with me would help push me over the edge. Hell, the last time we went I remember boarding the plane to get there, and I remember getting on the plane to leave. But absolutely nothing in between.
Which was why I was surprised unpacking my bags by a small case tossed into a side pocket, with a disk inside. And stapled to the front, almost in a gruesome manner, was a receipt from *Vick's VooDoo*, made out by scrawling handwriting, with a row of symbols along the bottom.
I'd stayed home from work that day, the hangover from the trip still pounding in my head, my stomach releasing smells long since declared illegal by the Geneva convention. And with nothing better to do, I popped the game in my computer, and I began to play.
I'd never played the Sims, but I'd seen it done, and I knew how it worked. It would be best to start with something easy, a family I could model without much trouble.
So I settled on the neighbors, Jim and Martha. Late thirties, boring people actually- for the past six weeks, Jim had been trying to put together an apartment complex wide barnecue for the forth of July, and I was certain he would consider it one of his top achievements. Maybe even make a spot of his resume.
So in the game, I had him buy a grill and party supplies, easily outstripping their measly budget. And as I yawned, and prepared for bed, I found him a new job so his barbecue could have additional funding, and not be as lame as real life. Two times his current income- still nothing amazing, but for a man like Jim, he had struck gold.
And walking to my car the next morning, Jim bumped into me at the bottom of the stairs as we excited the building, and walked over to a car parked in between two spaces, straddling the white line to provide more space.
"You're looking!," he said proudly, slapping the hood, "Of a proud owner of a new Honda Civic! Drives like a champ, and let me tell you that those Chinese Engineers really know how to drive up those MPG's!"
He grinned, and waited for my acknowledgment, his eyes searching. Only Jim would need his neighbor's approval for buying a new car, especially a civic.
"Cool stuff, Jim", I answered as I stepped into my own car, "how'd you swing that?"
"New job at the plant!" He shouted back, "And whewee, did it come with extra green!"
"Congrats," I muttered, and started to close the door, cutting off his words.
"And don't forget this next weekend is the barbecue- I bought a new grill and-"
But the door was shut, and I was already on my morning grind. And it wasn't until the second stoplight that the realization hit me. The thought pulled at me all day at work until I clocked out that day, and I fired up The Sims. And I put my theory to the test.
The walls between out apartment were thin- so thin, I could often hear snippets of speech. And I experimented.
I clicked *argue*, and Jim's voice would float over about how his wife should make potato salad instead of mashed potatoes for the barbecue, and he *did not give s damn* whether she had won blue ribbon ten years before at the fair for her Tater Tornado.
Then I could make them high five in the heat of it, the stands coming through the drywall.
And I heard the make up sex I commanded, probably their first in years, the sounds cringeworthy as I decided never to select that option again. But I smiled, looking at the receipt from Vick's Voodoo on the ground, and reading the text for the first time.
"*You may not remember me, but I'll remember you, Mr. Tim. Take this, as a parting gift. A way of giving you what you have earned.*
And on the computer, I selected *New Game*, buying my lip in thought of who I should choose next. Names flitted through my head as my fingers itched at the keys- Zuckerburg or Gates who could leave me gifts, a few of my exes for what they deserved, GRR Martin who I could confine to his study until he actually wrote a damn book, The Cubs Team so they could finally win the World Series- the list went on for nearly ten minutes. Then I typed a name, and hit enter, adrenaline rushing as the screen began to load.
But not before cancelling Jim's barbecue.
***
By Leo
| 2016-12-03T09:43:17 | 2016-12-03T07:43:51 | 311 | 182 |
[WP] Animals can be genetically combined with any other animal with no problems, allowing dog-cat pets, true teacup elephants, and many other things. But you don't always get what you expect. Describe a pet owner who got a pet he was not ready for, but is determined to keep it and love it. | Richard, I've had it up to HERE with that....thing. I want it gone TONIGHT.
Honey, we’ve been over this. He’s not going anywhere. He’s adorable and weird and I love him.
HE??? How can you even tell it’s a male? Look at it! It’s got two legs and I’m pretty dam sure there’s nothing in between. Do you see a penis, Richard? Cause I don’t see a penis anywhere on that thing.
It’s called a cloaca, Stephanie. Chloe-Ache-Ahhhh. Its what bird’s have for sex organs. They’re internal Steph so NO I don’t see a penis because that’s not how it works.
RIchard. That thing is a FUCKING CAT WITH WINGS. You told me “oh, we can splice a cat and a bird, and we’d have a little bird that meows with itty-bitty paws.” NOT THIS!
But….the paws are itty bitty. Just look at them.
Richard I swear to god. That thing has wings the size of my arm. It flies out whenever it dam well pleases, goes who knows where and brings back bloodied carcasses!
Well, cats and birds are both hunters so of course it’ll do whats natural.
No. No this isn’t natural at all. The other day, I don’t know how but it found where I work. I was in an executive meeting presenting the quarterly analysis. You know how important those meetings are to me!
So he found you, and what? You’ve never spoken in front of a pet before?
He landed on the air conditioner with a decapitated squirrel. A DECAPITATED SQUIRREL Richard! Have you ever seen a decapitated squirrel? Because I have, and now so has everyone in Circatel! Do you have any idea what they’re calling me at work now?
The Stephanator?
What? No….Squirrelspierre. They’re calling me freaking Squirrelspierre you asshole!.
HAHAHAHAHA Oh….Oooh no I’m about to lose my head!
OH MY GOD This isn’t funny! Yesterday morning I walked in and there were dozens of post it notes everywhere. Every single one had a squirrel getting decapitated under a guillotine. They drew little French hats and swords on them, and they were saying things like “Long live the people,” “Squirrels have rights too” and “Although I die, my phylum lives on.”
Wow I want to work where you work.
RICHARD! That thing leaves TONIGH…..wait. Wait a minute. You said earlier that cats and birds are hunters.
Yes.
Richard, most birds aren’t hunters.
I know this.
Richard….exactly which type of bird did you splice the cat with?
Um...well….you know I love America soo….
YOU IDIOT! You AND that thing are FREE to go find another place to sleep for the night!
I’ve heard Paris has a lot of living space. You know, after they cleared out all of the guillotines and whatnot.
Goodbye Richard.
| Damn that Ambien and eBay. That combination is ALWAYS messing with my wallet. I guess since I put my credit card info and email down I must have ordered a German Shepherd-turtle. I got the shipping confirmation email this morning so here goes nothing. I need to get my house ready for 'whatever' this thing is going to be. OK, lets look at this receipt. It was ordered November 25 and it says it takes 10 weeks for deliv...*ding dong* OH SHIT!
As I open the front door, there stands this UPS driver with a large box on his two-wheeler. The box has air holes and is printed with *CAUTION: LIVE ANIMAL* on each side and the top. "Hello u/redneq_1. Here's your, uh, pet? Just sign here for me please." as he hands his scanner to me. With my signature on the scanner, he pushes the box right inside my front door, says a comical "Good luck" and walks back to his truck.
As I stand there staring at this box, I can feel my heart rate rising, my breathing become heavier and my palms start sweating. I lean down and grab the pull string to open the box. As the light hits the inside of the box, there is this little "thing" looking up at me. The face of the cutest German Shepherd puppy you have ever seen. Those big brown puppy eyes looking up almost saying, 'Hi daddy!' The more I open the box, the more light is shed on my new "pet." The dog-like hair on the back of the neck slowly gives way to a light greenish-brownish tone of wrinkly skin that gets absorbed into a beautiful shell with tans, yellows and greens geometrically blended together. The feet were that of a turtle, but had the claws of the dog portion. And then, shyly tucked between the back legs was a fluffy black and tan tail.
As I reach into the box to pick him up, the tail starts to stick out and he gives it a little wag. "Hello Dogle," I say. His eyes seem to brighten up as I hold him in my arms. I hold him up above my head to get a full view of how he was "constructed" and notice that while he has a full shell top and bottom, his belly is lined with fur. I hold him with one arm and start to gently rub his furry, turtle shell belly and there's a flickering of his back leg.
I realize that this is probably one of the strangest animals that I have ever seen, but what am I supposed to do with him? I wonder what type of mood or personality he will have. The laziness and longevity of a turtle? The high energy but relatively short lifespan of the shepherd?
As time goes on, Dogle gets bigger, and some of his features change. His snout, still shaped similar to a shepherd, has become shorter and more pointed. As he loses his puppy teeth, there only seems to be molars in the back. What am I supposed to feed him? Will he turn into an omnivore as opposed to an herbivore (turtle) or carnivore (shepherd)? I guess I'll just keep up the dog food and see how he reacts to it. Admittedly, his cuteness has mostly gone away. He now looks like something out of a horror movie since he has grown. He's fairly ugly. With the unique combination of breeds, I really want to see how he turns out and how training will go, if even possible. | 2017-01-20T12:49:32 | 2017-01-20T12:22:09 | 35 | 26 |
[WP] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons? Well, it's all thanks to you. You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains, whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair. | The shipment finally arrived. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and left my office, my heels clicking on the cement floor of the warehouse. It was casual Friday, my jeans had rips in the knees and my white blouse had a small, almost non-existent coffee stain near the collar, but thankfully it was hidden by my jacket. Even bosses have to be somewhat dressed up on casual days.
"Morris!" I called out.
Poof! The little red imp appeared and smiled at me. "Morning boss lady!"
"The shipment of orcs is here, tell the unloaded to handle them carefully. If we screw this up we lose a high paying customer," I warned.
Morris snapped his fingers and disappeared. My business was top of the line, and this was a one time customer paying the big bucks. I did not want to lose this deal.
I suddenly heard the bell indicating a customer was in the office. As I wandered back, I took in the sight of my warehouse. Workers were escorting henchmen from room to room, waiting for the customers to arrive and pick them up. The best of the best underlings were here; orcs, demons, incubi and succubus, sirens, you name them.
I entered the office and saw the one person I wished to avoid. The Evil Overlord was standing before me, his ego emanating from his presence. I sighed and walked to the counter.
"What can I do for you?"
He smiled at me. "A date please."
I scoffed. "We only sell henchmen here, not prostitutes. Although, we have something similar."
He smiled, showing his white teeth that look odd on him. "You are such a business demon. Even your little horns look tired."
"Really? I had no idea," I state with no emotion.
"You look like you need a break. One date."
I smiled at him. "Aww, thank you...but I'm not that desperate."
His smile vanished. He stood straight up and cleared his throat. "Alright then, I'd like to order some selkies and a bugbear."
I raised an eyebrow. "Selkies are hard to come by, as well as bugbears. It'll be expensive either way."
He pursed his lips. "Are you able to lower the price?"
I frowned. "No."
"What if I pay in installments?"
A small crash sounded from the warehouse and I looked over my shoulder. One of the workers must've agitated an orc. Security will handle it.
"Every month I could pay back some of it," Overlord continued.
I turned back to him. "We don't operate like that. Either you have the money or you don't get the henchmen."
"What about minotaurs?"
I sighed. "Those are highly requested these days, and they're about twice as much as the bugbear."
Shouts came from the warehouse of the workers, but the words were muffled. I looked back over my shoulder to look at the door and frowned in confusion. What were those idiots doing?
"Alright!" Overlord exclaimed. "I'll take three imps."
Imps were very affordable, often being a bad guy's first henchmen. I pulled out the paperwork and had him fill it out. "I'll go get the imps."
He smiled at me and nodded. "Take your time, sweetheart."
I rolled my eyes and walked through the door that entered the warehouse. I stood on the platform that overlooked everything and closed the door.
"What an asshole," I muttered.
I turned around and froze in horror as I saw what laid before me. Workers were unconscious against the wall or on the floor and all my shipments were gone. Everything that was in reserve as well had disappeared. My warrhouse had been ransacked
I ran down to the cement floor and stood amongst the empty room. My anger rose and my shout echoed through the barren walls. "MORRIS!!"
Poof! The imp appeared and refused to look at me. "Yes boss-lady?"
"What happened?!"
"We don't know, there was a crash and then smoke and some people ran in to start attacking us."
The Evil Overlord popped into my head. I screamed and leapt up to the platform from where I stood. I entered the office and saw he was nowhere to be seen. I looked at the unfinished papers and tore them up as I read what my competitor left:
THANKS FOR THE SUPPLIES, SWEATHEART! -ULTIMATE LEGIONS CORP. | The dial phone ringed with its classical tune. In the age of smartphones, I insisted to use this old and heavy design. I mainly had two reasons: first, I didn't care about who's calling and was rarely mobile; second, it was beautiful. I grabbed the receiver.
"Hello."
"Yes, I'm your guy. Who referred me to you?"
"Oh, Havoc. Yes, he is a regular customer. I am wrapping up an order for him as we speak. He told you about how I work? How I receive orders?"
"No? Okay. Now you have to be as specific as you possibly can. First things first, head count. I start my pricing there. Second, what do you need them for. Do you want them to simply stand or stroll somewhere or throw them somewhere or on someone to die-"
"What do you mean does it matter? Of course it matters! So I start looking at prisons or Monster..."
"What do you mean why? You have a problem with that? Do you know how many people are unemployed out there, desperate for work? You are literally creating jobs here, why the fuck do you care?"
"Look, let me finish, then depending on what you want, we arrange something. Third, equipment. Do you have uniforms and gear at the ready, or do you want me to take care of that too? If you have them, fine. If not, that's extra. If you want a special design, that is also extra on top of all and you send me that. If you want free design, just give me something to work with, even a vague description will do. If you bother even for that, I will put on black gear and ski-masks on the poor bastards and leave em in front of your door."
"Speaking of which, order delivery. If you pick them up, it's free. I leave your order somewhere I or you choose and that's that. If you want them delivered to your doorstep, it's going to cost you. Harder to walk there, higher the price, so if your secret lair is in some underwater base or towards the end of the atmosphere, prepare to cough up some dough..."
"Yes, I can bring them to you, anywhere you are. You think Z'oghnto brought all his invaders from outer space? More than half of his goons were the guys I sent him and they regrouped on the other side of the moon."
"Distance counts yes, if you want them on the other side of the world, price will naturally be higher. But lower than bringing them to, say, Mariana Trench."
"Yes Mariana Trench has some villains hiding there... No I don't care how they do it or if they have neighborly relationships."
"Before I forget, weapons. Yes it is a different topic from equipment and gear. Do you arm them, or do you want them to bring their own firearms, or want me to arm them?"
"Look, this is the touchiest subject, it makes a whole world of difference. You can move unarmed ninjas anywhere with no questions asked but moving hundreds of men armed to the teeth is a tedious and delicate task so I must know what I will be dealing with."
"If they bring their own firearms its free of course but that option limits you to the rednecks and that's why you will be thinking long and hard on why you need the men for. The question is higher on the list for a reason."
"But I can make this my problem and of course I receive payment for all extra problems I take care of. You need to be specific on weapons. I don't take initiative here, I had headaches for that in the past. What will be the standart loadout for your standart nobody? Do you want variety? Different guns for captains of men or your lieutenants? Any and every explosive is extra."
"And finally, the payment. You pay upfront, with one of the major acceptable currencies, preferably U.S. Dollars, no exceptions."
"Of course upfront! No you can't pay by installments! How will I know you won't end up in jail or grave before your schemes become successful? No way man, I run a business here and it is a costly one. Did you ever hear about a grunt in an ATM queue? We pay them in advance and in good amounts so they at least consider the possibility of dying for someone they don't know or care about."
"These are my terms, take it or leave it... No I don't have something like a menu? I am not running a fucking restaurant! Tell me what you want and I give you the price and an estimate on delivery time, depending on your order. You don't have to order now, you can think on what you need and call me again."
"Okay. All right. Call me when you are ready. Goodbye."
I hanged up. Havoc's order still needed delivery and guy set up shop in Sahara Desert this time and wanted them to come on foot. I could have told him I can weed out the weak for him, but then, how would I make a living? | 2017-03-23T06:52:14 | 2017-03-23T06:40:56 | 107 | 63 |
[WP] You reject someone by saying "I'll go on a date with you the day hell freezes over." The next day, Satan appears in your room, shivering, and covered in snow. | "Pardon my intrusion, but could you please turn your attention from the television and to me instead?" A foreign voice rang out, one layered with charm, frustration, and just a little beat of heat. Almost like my mum's but not quite there yet.
I turned my head reluctantly. I was just getting to my seventh rerun of *Parks and Refreation.* Once I fixed my eyes on my doorstep, the sight was one to behold. It's not everyday you see an impeccably dressed gentleman, in a well pressed suit, complete with... Snow? Why is there snow? And how the hell did he get inside my apartment? I jolted up, and he must have noticed as he put a finger up.
"Tsk tsk, one second please. I can see you are both confused and angry, and that is not a combination any human can rationally think through. Before you say a word, let me introduce myself. My name is Lucifer Morningstar, and thanks to you, hell is fucking freezing over."
"What?" I felt my face scrunch up in a familiar motion. Too used to not understanding anything I've been doing in college.
"Right, that has definitely made you more confused." He sighed, letting out a mist in the air. The man is definitely cold. He paced the room, rubbing his hands together and continued, "I repeat, I am Lucifer Morningstar, and you have caused hell to freeze over because of your bloody mistake!"
Hell freeze over, now where was that phrase familiar...
"Oh my god, Lucy! I told her that."
Lucifer physically flinched. "Could you please try not to put my daughter's beautiful name beside my father's? He's really not known to answer to that name."
And that was when it all clicked.
The Devil was standing on my doorstep.
"What the fuck? You are the Devil?" I reached out my hand to grab the table, to prevent my keeling over. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The Devil lashed out, "I'm here, because you somehow made Hell more hellish! I was only just getting used to the temperature, and now my daughter's made it colder than a witch's tit!"
He took two small steps towards me, but I could feel the aura that he carried. Be it whether he is the Devil or not, he definitely had an unseen power around him.
"And now, you will fix your mistake. Date my daughter." | "Alright, *Mark*" Satan spat, his eyes glowing red hot despite his bodies obvious shivers, "It's time you and I had a *little chat*."
Mark was paralyzed. One moment he'd been in bed watching some *Friends* to unwind, and the next the TV blinks off as a pillar of flame erupted from his floor, leaving a goosebumped, crimson demon looming over him.
It was evident this was Satan himself; Mark recognized the satyr like body and the forked tail. But despite the sputtering flames on the carpet, the Devil had frost coating his goatee and furry legs, and was visibly shaking from cold.
It was a lot to take in.
"Yes... uh... yessir." Mark sputtered. "Am I... uh... have I angered you, um, sir?"
"*ANGERED ME?*" the beings voice boomed as steam rose from his eyes. "*YOU HAVE COATED MY KINGDOM IN ICE!*"
Again, Mark was dumbfounded.
The demon sighed exasperatedly, clearly annoyed at Mark's obvious ignorance. "You. The girl. You turned her down. Said Hell had to freeze over. The Big Man Upstairs says you're supposed to be together. He froze hell over. I complained, he sent me to deal with *you*." His mouth grimaced as he spoke, the words growing more pointed and harsh as he progressed, inching closer to Mark with each passing second. "So now *I'm* here to tell *you* to get your shit together, or I will *personally* see to it that you suffer and burn in my *DARKEST, MOST TERRIBLE PIT*." At this point he was leaning over Mark's quaking form, his face mere inches from the mortals. Moisture seeped through the lower portions of the sheets. "Do I make my self *abundantly* clear?"
"Yessir" Mark quivered. "Sally. I'll.. I'll find her."
"Good." Satan stood. "He's got some plan for you. And I'll be damned if your actions freeze my home. And I do the damning." He glared.
There was a brief pause.
"Well?" Satan growled.
"Oh. Um, you want me to go now?"
"*YES, YOU FOOL!*" Satan's voice boomed so loudly it shook the very foundation of Mark's apartment. "*NOW!*"
Mark scrambled, pants still soaking, and made a dash for the door. He threw on a jacket and fumbled with his shoes before sprinting away into the night, his door swinging ajar behind him.
"Hmph. Humans."
Satan disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
-----------------------------
If you enjoyed, check out r/RockhabWrites for more! | 2017-04-02T08:34:42 | 2017-04-02T03:11:00 | 45 | 24 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.