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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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[WP] You are the best thief in the kingdom. You’re hard to find but money talks. A stranger in a hood has a request for you. “What do you want me to steal?” You ask. They remove their hood. “Me,” says the Kingdom’s prince/princess.
|
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” she asked, taken aback. The dim tavern lighting reflected off her shimmering green eyes, revealing a keen intelligence that no disguise could hide. Riven cursed under his breath and tore his gaze away.
“I know how this will end. No,” he said to the table.
“Please,” soft fingers grasped his own calloused ones in desperation. “Please, you don’t understand. This is my only chance. My uncle will have me killed before the coronation tomorrow.”
Riven tore his hand away, stalking over to the bar. The persistent woman followed him, ignoring the hulking brutes surrounding them.
“At least tell me why!” she demanded, grabbing his arm. Riven’s breath hitched at her electric touch. Had anyone ever shocked him so? Made him feel so powerless? Mustering all his willpower, he extracted his arm and leveled a glare at her.
“Darryl Lightfingers,” he answered.
“I – what?” the princess asked, baffled.
“Kidnapped the princess of Andraasten to save her from an assassin. Not a year later and they’re married and he’s king regent. Do you know how many children they have?” Riven demanded.
The princess backpedaled. “I don’t – “
“Six children. *Six!* Do you think I could afford six children?” Riven advanced on her.
“I’m not asking – “ the princess started, growing weak as she stared up at his intimidating figure.
“Percy ‘Cutpurse’ Pratt. Abducted the Countess von Reinhart to reveal a murder plotted against her. Finds out he’s the long lost Duke of Thragmire, they’re married two months later. Seven children.”
He was nearly pressed against the princess now. She stared at him with wide eyes. “Seven is a lot.”
“Amelia Quickstep. Kidnapped the prince of Cyl. *Both* of them discover they’re sorcerers, get married, stage a coup, and become rulers of Cyl *and* Issandra. Two children,” Riven continued. “Need I go on?”
“Two isn’t that many,” the princess hedged.
“The two children, or the two countries?” Riven asked dryly. The princess deflated.
“I understand,” she said quietly, gathering herself. “I’ll see myself out.”
He almost let her. Gods be cursed, he almost managed it. But she looked so sad, and so lost, and so beautiful in the torchlight that he would have been a complete monster to say no. He caught her hand before she could pull away from him.
“Be ready tomorrow morning.”
She looked at him with eyes full of joy. “Really? You’ll do it?”
“Yes,” Riven said, somehow knowing he had sealed his fate. “I’ll do it.”
\----------------------------------------------------
*High King Riven Swift. 11 children.*
|
I stared at her blankly. The princess of the 9 kingdoms and one of the most influental people in the realm sat there, watching for a reaction under my hood. Of course, I am THE thief. I give nothing away. I can steal from your house, your vault and your card game, when you least expect it. I've never been caught in my entire life.
"Why?" I asked, perplexed. Why would a woman who controls the kingdom, lives in a palace full of riches and everyone does her bidding want to lose all that?
"It's quite simple actually. My father wants to marry me to the prince of Goodfalls, in order to mend our ruined relationships after the 50 year war." she replied primly.
"Well, Marcus is a decent guy. The kingdoms need to mend their relationships, because the Northern King is preparing for war and right now, no one is ready for another war. What's the problem?"
"The problem is, that my father is becoming senile. He needs to retire but it is really hard to convince him..."
"Wait a second. YOU have trouble convincing your father? You basically run the kingdom!" I exclaimed
"You are... absolutely right. The thing is, the council is becoming restless. They want to dethrone my father, and as you said, the North King is preparing for an assault."
"And how can it help if I steal you?" I asked perplexed.
"The true plan is that by "stealing" me, the council, which is controlled by me, will dethrone the king and I will take his place. With the marriage and the elimination of the Goodfalls king, I will technically control both kingdoms, because, Marcus is extremely daft and easy to control. So, with our forces combined and under my command, the Northern Kingdom won't stand a chance." she said like she was discussing the weather.
"That's... a nice plan. But, how are you sure that the council will back you up? And also, why are you telling me all of this?"
"I think I should be worried about the council. As for the reason that I'm telling you all of this is quite simple: You won't tell anyone."
"Hm. And how are you going to convince me about that?" I asked somewhat smugly, because I knew that an escape is really easy from here, even with all the "hidden" agents that are spread out in the inn. My title wasn't given for nothing after all.
"You will get the Heart of the Dragon."
The Heart of the Dragon? This is the most valuable stone in the entire world! I could bargain for SO many things with it and I will finally transend to a legend! It also gives me a good opportunity to steal it if she backpedals. So, the reply is pretty obvious.
"I'm in."
| 2019-08-05T12:13:20 | 2019-08-05T11:59:37 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Word had quickly spread through the country about the bizarre mug changes. A whole host of dads were waking up to vindication or disappointment as the numbers of their mugs changed from #1 to some indiscriminately high number. Those who placed in the low hundred thousands were those few dads who had always seemed stable; good job, good marriage, wonderful kids.
Tom had only heard the news about the mug when he was at work, so he was thrilled with anticipation to read his own mug when he arrived home. With 2 little ones and a 5 year long marriage, he was expecting a good number; not the best number of course, he certainly wasn't perfect, but a good number. Maybe even enough to beat William from across the street who takes his kids out to the fair twice a month.
Sneaking out of work an hour early, he drove quickly before rushing straight to the kitchen upon arrival home. He reached up to open the mug cupboard where his mug from last Father's Day resided. He recognized the font, and his stomach swelled as he read the writing:
"# N/A Dad"
|
James was not a great man.
Great men walked up to the world and bent it to its will. Great men looked at challenge and laughed.
James did his 9-5, came home, and sat down. He typically would stand back up a few times, to use the toilet or get a beer, but no more than a few.
His son had stopped asking him to play with him a long time ago, not that James really noticed. It just, stopped, nothing to it.
But then there was this mug.
It was a gift for Christmas one year, a typical 8 year old present, a #1 Dad mug.
But now it said he was #986,800,672.
He looked out the window to the backyard, seeing his son toss a ball in the air and catch it.
He looked back at the mug, then at his son.
...
James stood up. Perhaps he could play catch today.
And the mug, now facing down, ticked down to #986,800,671.
| 2021-12-03T09:27:18 | 2017-06-11T09:29:45 | 828 | 159 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers.
|
Bony fingers
gripped my hand
tore my soul
pulled me into
depths below
Black as Midnight
robe on hook
scythe on wall
Wait in office
for the call
Souls in balance
need my swipe
feel my slice
I decide who's
naughty nice
The day will come
you will see
I will see
your sins laid bare
you'll be free
Your soul to keep?
send below?
send above?
THE JOB IS JUDGEMENT
BUT THE WORK I LOVE
|
I don't let go after during the shake and I ripe what is attached to my hand up on the bed. It's a leprechaun. If it can shake a persons hand say they're hired and the person excepts, then they switch lives. But if the leprechaun is caught while trying to make this deal, he has to grant one wish. I wish for the one thing I've always wanted, to become a leprechaun.
| 2017-04-29T03:55:38 | 2017-04-28T23:36:59 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] I'm a professional assassin, well-known both for my skill, and for my choice in target; I only kill vile people, whether what they're doing is illegal or not. You're selling drugs? That's your problem. Treating someone like a slave? Not on my watch. I leave cards behind me to save police time.
|
The police were extremely concerned when they arrived at the scene: no signs of forced entry, minimal struggle, the area was visibly cleaned afterwards. What was initially a sign of a professional hit became all the more concerning when they found some of my cards.
I’m a known element, but until they saw the first of my cards, they weren’t sure it was me. Now they knew it would be story time. The first of my cards was immediately photographed where it sat by the television remote, reading <<play the video.>>
After going getting the proper permission from the evidence specialists, and getting a couple body cameras positioned to record the television, they turned it on, and saw a simple text-on-screen video.
“Hello and apologies to the officers on the scene.” A few of the officers let out a breath at that. My usual first card being on screen was unusual, but they now were sure it was me.
“This individual was particularly troublesome, so please forgive me for not using as many cards as they would have needed.”
“First and foremost, please check the leftmost kitchen cabinet for my next card, it will include a cryptocurrency account, with the password available. You will want to look at the recurring transactions for the first week of October the last few years.”
The video was paused, and a couple specialists went to the cabinet, and found the relevant card. After taking a picture, the video was resumed.
“Next you are going to want to check the basement, on top of the water heater. This card has a USB stick next to it. The USB stick has two folders one is named ‘List’ the other is named ‘Flights’ and these are related.”
Again, took pictures of the card that read <<list & flights>>, and placed the USB in a labeled resealable bag.
“‘List’ has an excel spreadsheet that lists a full legal name, a date, a number, a blood type, and an alphanumeric number. ‘Flights’ connects each of these alphanumerics to a flight, and notes the cost of that flight.”
“You will notice that these costs roughly correspond with the transactions on the previously mentioned crypto account.”
“Finally, by the shoe rack at the front door, there is a lidded wicker-weave filing box. Under the lid is my last card. I *strongly* recommend that not everyone look at the contents. There are multiple files, each with an alphanumeric, and each contains multiple pictures. In case anyone ate recently, I will not clarify what those pictures are, and merely say in the abstract that the individual I handled assisted those with a taste for liver.”
The specialists quickly and calmly moved toward the box that they all saw, but no one minded. After a few pictures of the closed box, they opened it, and saw a card that simply read <<I’m sorry.>>
The last bit of the video was played.
“Needless to say, there are multiple people involved with this individual’s work. I’m going to be quite busy for a while. So that I do not cause a significant uproar, please inform the police stations in Gothic Colorado, Forks Washington, and Rumney New Hampshire about me. They will likely find some of my cards soon.”
|
**Note: Last time I wrote something not for work was 2018. Sorry if this isn't the greatest.**
Society had dubbed me the trained and well paid assassin. I wasn't so much paid, as I was rewarded. It was true villains I took off the street, though I suppose it'd depend on who'd agree with me if what i did was good or bad.I've taken a few drug dealers down, but my target wasn't that low anymore. Cops were getting better at solving their own drug problems, even the Mafia had moved targets from drugs to more- some crypto thing and stocks? It made no sense to me but it didn't really have to. Neither of those were really people or problems I worried about.
Hell, the person I was focused on had done much worse. Murder after murder, taking out human traffickers, slavers. The last target I'd had was a human trafficker myself, one who'd focused on children from the nation of- well it didn't really matter the nation. Kids were off limits, even for the most ruthless of people- there had to be some morality after all.
The target before that? A 'fertility clinic' helping people meet their dream of children. Sure, they had really accomplished that, but they were also taking eggs and sperm and making duplicates of people, to create the 'pure race' they'd decided would bring the most health and wealth to those willing to pay for them. It was pure breeding for humans, and that wasn't fair to the kids they'd brought in, sold to the worst society had to offer- the irony of that wasn't lost on me.
Now? Now the target was much darker. They'd committed the worst act- murder after murder. It'd come to light some of their victims were completely innocent, more than once. Now they were doubting their morality and whether they could continue their line of work. Yes, human traffickers were horrible, but some had been thinking they were transferring children for charity, to safe keeping- the traffickers exploiting charities to prevent the very same. It was heart breaking to realize the lives lost in that chain had actually been some of the most innocent.
I looked into the mirror, taking my medication for my blood pressure with a shot of whiskey and sighed. Tomorrow would be another day, and that problem would also be dealt with. Life needed to go on. For now, it was onto sleep.
There was no morning for me though, only cops and cameras and that stupid blue light they insisted on using even when all the blood was visible- a body only held and made so much in it's dying moments after all. At leas the card was clear of it- clean still in a bag as it was walked to the detective in charge of my death.My handwriting had been small and filled the calling card back still.
"Dear Detective- the only motive here was to end the suffering I've caused through the years. I've left a lot of people grieving and led good people to the worst deeds seeking revenge. I've become the very terror I've worked so hard to stop. This is the period of my life- there is no continuation. - Velvet".
| 2022-09-13T09:54:01 | 2022-09-13T03:45:50 | 127 | 38 |
[WP] You open a new snapple bottle with real fact #666. It says 'create your own real fact.' You say a statement and it becomes true.
What is the fact and what happens next?
|
A long lifetime of nineteen years, jealous and reviled, saw me beneath the garage lights, Snapple in hand. The fingers twist, the cap that lifts to reveal some probably already seen fact still sweating of cold beneath them.
"Create your own real fact."
The print is strange. Inconstant, and somehow abstract, I'm not sure if I'm reading it or knowing it in some other way. The bottle feels like carpet, and far away. A new sensation fills my stomach, like an uncomfortable truth. I hesitate and the writing seems insistent.
"*Create* your own real fact."
The period seems absolute. The fingers holding the cap, calloused, flow up to a lined palm, then a tense arm, encased in a bobble. There's hair, and, looking left, the familiar, foreign bulge of my groin. My hair, thinning, untended, fringed with old desires and a lot of baggage, brushes my cheek, wiry and dull.
*Create your own fact.*
"My parents have three daughters."
The words flow from me like a halting waterfall, pouring over my lips to rest at my chin, my chest, spraying my eyes and my hands with the fine mist of something mythical, mystical, something encroaching on the arcane. A fist unclenches deep in my gut, flesh grows, ungrows, and I can feel the weight of memory and history untangling, re-tangling, changing in some way that defies language of the rationalistic speaker.
Back to the cap.
"Real fact #29. An average human will spend 2 weeks in his/her lifetime kissing."
And the fingers slender on the edges, an arm brushed with vellus hair, the rounding of breasts beneath my shirt to the left. My fingers. My breasts. Hair, tended, fringe swept around my left ear. Another inconstancy of text, between "lifetime" and "kissing", *we hope you enjoy your new one*, and there, where the ridges of crumpled forehead used to be, signs of relief.
|
"Create your own real fact." Huh? I didn't get it. All I wanted to read was a simple real fact. I had gotten to enjoy these Snapple real facts, like John Adams was the only President defeated by his own vice president, Thomas Jefferson. Or that Louisiana is home to over 80% of the world's crayfish. But make your own real fact?
Did that mean I had to think of one, or did that mean I could actually wish something and it would become real, become true? Maybe this was like a genie bottle and I get one wish? I mean that last one I read yesterday, about cats having 2 sets of vocal chords, one for purring and one for meowing, was pretty cool. Could I make a new set of vocal chords? Nah, I didn't need to purr.
So, what did I need? Had to be careful about the old, I have a billion bucks wish, and suddenly I'm surrounded by a billion stags. What fact should I make real?
Oh please, I was being stupid. There was no way this was going to really happen. About as much chance as a penis enlarger really working. Yeah, there you go.
I said out loud, "John Elmo has an eighteen inch long penis."
There. And nothing happened. Sigh.
I tossed the cap and started to chug the Snapple ice tea. Fuck my hopes and dreams, I was thirsty.
And as I drank, I suddenly felt a huge pressure in my jeans.
What the?
I never did find that cap again. I simply tossed it to the side, but it just plain disappeared. Oh well, maybe it was only good for one use. But hey, I got what I wished for, though I really think a billion bucks would have been better. I mean, a billion dollars.
| 2015-01-17T15:59:47 | 2015-01-17T14:43:13 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...
|
I had never given much thought to what my Summoning would bring. Far, far too busy. Always head down, eyes on the screen or hands shuffling papers. When not working I was constantly being relocated; shifted around for those that seemed themselves more deserving, more worthy. I had a window once. And the squirrels. Beautiful squirrels. They were in love. But as soon as it appeared in my upturned palm I knew. My time had come. I could see the endless possibilities reflected in its polished crimson surface. I could see in it power. I was whole. Its name called to me as if it and not I was the summoner. Such a beautiful name in such intricate scroll along its side. *Swingline*. My stapler.
- Excerpt from *The Manifesto of Milton the Unseperate*
|
They all screamed as the orange haired president doubled over in pain live on national television as I laughed maniacally in the back of the bar waving his severed member in my hand before throwing it into my drink.
“Steve!!” “what the fuck man?!” Randy screamed at me as he vomited onto the floor. “It’s your birthday but damn dude!? Why the fuck did you summon THAT?!”
“World domination baby, world domination”
Everybody stood far away from me as I walked out the front door blood dripping from my fingers, The Donald’s member flopping on the ground.
Who the fuck is going to dare challenge anyone that can rip your junk off from anywhere on the planet?
Let them eat cake.
| 2019-09-18T09:48:46 | 2019-09-18T09:37:18 | 18 | 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.
|
Humans are a galactic anomaly.
In the typical course of evolution, there are two possibilities; either carnivores become dominant, and are forced to evolve intelligence as they fight with one another over dwindling resources, or Herbivores manage to evolve rapidly enough to defend themselves from those carnivores. In all 9824 races of the Known Galaxy, this pattern has held true.
It was a monumental shock, then, when species 9825 was discovered, colloquially called 'humans'. Their species was incredibly unlucky; they had evolved in a system where significant numbers of eccentric orbitals intersected their planet's course, resulting in not just one, but multiple large-scale impacts. It is believed that there were several nascent species on the cusp of intelligence, both herbivore and carnivore, only to be promptly wiped out by impact-induced global firestorms. The last of these was the worst; all larger life-forms were killed, leaving only the most tenacious of creatures behind, and allowing, for the first time in history, an evolutionary oddity.
An intelligent Omnivore.
Of course, most species will occasionally consume - on accident, usually - certain plant or meat based foods. The Verron-Tigers of Species 2368 will occasionally eat handfuls of grass to aid their digestive tract, for example, but never before had we encountered an intelligent species that would willingly consume both.
The scientific curiosity, however, is more than overwhelmed by the social one. Predators cannot - physically cannot - reside in close company to more than a few dozen of their kin, at most. Their instinct prevents it, competition driven by millenia of ingrained social cues. Herbivores rarely fight back; far easier to stand as a group, and let the weak be winnowed away.
When the first Predators, Skell-Walkers of species 8473, arrived at Earth, they saw the billions of humans and expected another Prey species. As was the custom, they isolated a small, isolated group of young, and began their hunt.
The entire human species nearly exploded with rage. The Skell were not prepared - Prey never fought back! When the first nuclear-tipped missiles reached their ship, in orbit around their moon, their shields weren't even up. Only a brief message made it to the other Skell, a warning of the insane prey of 9825. Still, they were prey; they assumed that as long as they avoided the planet, all would be well.
They assumed wrong. Very, very wrong. Apparently, Omnivores are fans of vengeance, and there are billions of them, compared to scarce thousands of Skell. Within 20 celestial cycles, there were no more Skell.
And then, to everyone's surprise, they stopped. They colonized the formerly Skell worlds, and were mostly quiet. Over time, the Herbivore Alliance came to the conclusion that their war with the Skell must have been a fluke; after all, even the most pacifistic of Herbivores will fight back in the right circumstances. Perhaps the Skell had just done something very, very wrong. Gently, delicately, we made contact...
...and found Humans to be one of the most delightful species we had ever known! They did not usually kill for sport, the way the Carnivores did; no, they were nearly as pacifistic as we were! We were welcomed with open arms, and within only a few dozen more solar cycles, we had a thriving alliance. It was only after another thirty cycles that our ambassadors felt our relationship was close enough to inquire as to what, exactly, had led to their genocide of the Skell. Our Chief Ambassador was understandably surprised when they told him how a small group of their young had been killed and eaten by the invaders; after all, such cullings happened regularly within our people!
The Human Ambassador politely inquired as to which species had eaten several of our Ambassador's children. We saw no harm in telling them.
That species no longer exists.
It is too late for us; the humans already know of our existence. Maybe, in time, we can even grow to live with them. But to any uncontacted Herbivores and Carnivores in the galaxy; run. Run, and never turn back. There are nearly a trillion of them now. A trillion creatures of genocide and murder in the name of peace.
Run, before it's too late.
Just run.
|
"Fucking humans are at it again." Said Prok as he dipped his proboscis into the fetus slaw before him.
"I see that." Replied Ghyd, his half wife. She shifted her earlobe and toenail salad listlessly. One of the earlobes still had a diamond earring in it. "Waiter! Someone in your kitchen isn't properly dejewelrying the human bits. I could have chipped a fang on this diamond!"
"So sorry mam, we are breaking in a new shipment of human laborers and they aren't catching on obviously." He said as he quickly whisked the earring from Ghyds hand and tossed it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen.
As she stared at the same view screen Prok was regarding Ghyds remarked, "Why is it that one factory farm of humans can be so docile and mellow and another can erupt into a full blown revolt like the one on Tellos 5? They have taken over the whole moon!"
"It all has to do with the genes I say. Too much Irish blood on Tellos 5, but I suppose that's the risk you run for the delectable pale skin and red haired variety of human. If only they could find some way to breed out the truculent, but keep the succulent. Eh but I suppose you can't have one without the other." Said Drujol, the gestation spouse. Her stuffed scrotums having long since been devoured to the last eyelidos s/he gazed in envy at colon burger being delivered by a passing waiter. The eyelidos weren't made from real eyelids, but they were still tasty.
"No no." Said Prok. "It's those damned humanitarians. They infiltrate the factory farm moons and contaminate the euphorics and the aphrodisiacs that must be supplemented into human feed. Without all the sex and the drugs humans become self aware."
All around them in the restaurant dishes clattered and chatter stopped. He said that much too loudly.
"Prok don't be silly. Humans can never be self aware. You know perfectly well those supplements are added just to make the humans feel more comfortable and even if they were self aware what do they have to be unhappy about? The factory farms perfectly replicate their natural habitat back on Earth. Cities, roads, cubicles, pornography, fast food, reality TV, everything is as they made for themselves in their natural environment. They live the good part of a normal human lifecycle and after about 30 years they are harvested and spared the horrors of old age or if they have been cooperative they are given the honor of serving elsewhere in the empire among their Novcclid overlords. I mean we aren't savages. Only free range humans of course." Vocalized Ghyd and Drujol in unison, as was their custom after a brief mental conference.
"Of course of course. I never meant... Just that this humanitarian movement is causing a lot of trouble."
No one could deny that. One after another factory farm moons had risen in revolt against their operators. There were even reports of the livestock having learned to operate the jump gates and the orbital shuttles, though that beggared belief.
*"This just in"* declared news bot5000 on the view screen *"we have just received a video from Tellos 5. Warning, this may be unsuitable for larvae under 300 years old."*
The screen switched to a wide angle shot obviously from a hand held communicator. The scene was of a wild mob of feral humans chanting and swirling around a podium that was once a water tower used to keep the livestock hydrated. Atop the tower were seven or eight Novcclids, obviously basking in the adoration of their new mob of wild humans.
As the camera zoomed into the lead Novcclid Prok, Ghyd and Drujol all were struck dumb. All thirteen of their eyes were wide and tentacles taught as bow strings.
The lead Novcclid was Frijik, their only saughter to survive to adulthood out of a clutch of 13000 spawned.
"Oh shit." The trio said, without any mental conference necessary.
| 2016-03-13T21:24:24 | 2016-03-13T16:09:35 | 71 | 21 |
[WP] A secret prison locks away immortal, hard to kill creatures to be "disposed of" properly. The executioners are well versed in the methods and rituals to dismantle and destroy demons and vampires and even Unknowable Horrors, but today is the first time an Angel was brought in as a prisoner.
|
Anthony looked at the beaten, once beautiful creature tossed to the ground before him. Black soot covered its wings, one of which was clearly broken. Golden blood dripped silently on the floor. And two guards were looking at him, clearly happy with themselves.
He’d killed vampires before. He’d killed demons. He’d even killed an Ancient, once. But this… this wasn’t what he signed up for.
“What is this supposed to mean?” he asked.
“And what do you think it means?” one of the guards asked. “Another creature needs to meet its Maker.”
“This is an angel before you!” Anthony yelled. “How could you do that to an angel?!”
“Just do your damned job,” the other guard said, “or you may be next. The president wants something dead, you kill it. End of story. You aren’t paid for asking questions.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Anthony yelled.
“They… do not...,” a rasping voice came from the floor. The angel slowly rose from the floor, its skin reknitting itself as he stood up, broken bones snapping back into their proper places. Both guards leapt in its direction with batons ready to strike, but a single of clap of wings sent them against the wall with a nauseating *crack*.
“But thank you anyway,” the angel addressed them, now in a deep voice echoing across the yard.
Anthony’s face went almost as white as the angel’s glowing feathers, and he dropped to his knees. He tried to say something, but the creature interrupted him.
“You have passed your test. You may go.” A flaming sword manifested itself above the angel’s outstretched hand, as the creature turned towards the administration building. “They did not.”
|
They said we should wait for the priest, their so called "specialist" in these matters. They weren't going to get any real answers from a "man of God". Every priest, witch, shaman, everyone favored their beliefs as the one truth, even when solid proof of all of them existed.
I was almost an Agnostic. I believed more in the old gods than anything, those who we can't even fathom, much less capture. The old ones who drive both mortals and gods to insanity with nothing more than mere words. I'm sure they created the universe, as they are the only ones who exist entirely outside of it.
Our next task is to banish an angel, some of the newer fools in our order say it can't be done. They themselves have seen demons banished, the circle in salt and words in Latin are basically just pointing out a technicality in their contract which sends them back to the plane they are bound to. They could be untouchable, but whatever silly bastard made their rules wanted to reign them in completely.
We read multiple translations of the dead sea scrolls recently. Some of the text alludes to the Isreallites capturing and weaponizing an angel using the star of David. How else would they have defeated their enemies, all much stronger than themselves.
All we really needed was a Hexagram in salt, some polarized sunglasses, and the right words. This twisted bitch had captured, tortured, and slain hundreds. Like many before her she called it "the work of God".
I don't need implicit knowledge to know what breach of contract to invoke.
I only wish that they would let me have her "talk" to the old ones first.
| 2021-03-09T16:51:51 | 2021-03-09T14:24:03 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] You, a seasoned warrior, are hardened to the point that you are incapable of feeling any emotion. Or so you thought. Today, you woke up to the faint meows of a tiny kitten outside your window.
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Grallik woke instantly, grabbing for a sword which was not at his side. His eyes darted around his bedroom, and he slumped back into the mattress. He was safe. He was an inn, not a tent, there was no one in the room with him, and he wasn't at war. He looked around more slowly as his heart calmed to see what had woken him. A black-and-white patchwork kitten was bawling on the window sill, looking utterly miserably in the faint rain. Grallik paid no attention to its pitiful stare as he got up to check the sun's position through the window. He only had half an hour before he had to start his shift as a bouncer for the night, hardly enough time to be worth going back to bed.
"This is your fault," he told the kitten, which had at least stopped its noise. Grallik checked the sun one more time, confirmed it hadn't magically moved backwards, and got dressed for the day. Leather armor was good enough for bar fights, and he gave a humorless chuckle as he strapped on a five-foot great-sword. It would be impossible to use in the inn's tavern with its low beams, but just wearing it accomplished more than half his work. Not many patrons, even the adventurers the tavern specialized in at night, wanted to start a bar fight with a scarred, seven-foot tall half-orc carrying a weapon that big. Most didn't even complain much when he asked them politely to leave. Ready early, he lay on the bed to at least rest for a bit, when he felt eyes on him. The kitten.
It wasn't crying anymore, it was just *staring* at him. Grallik made the active decision to ignore it. Five minutes later, he checked again. It was still there, looking like a drowned squirrel. He stood and marched over to the window to loom over the kitten, and let out a low rumble, baring the fangs which he'd gotten from his orc side. The kitten, head tilted comically backwards to look at him, let out the most pathetic sound he'd heard in years.
"I'm starting early," Grallik said to himself. "It'll be gone by the time I get back." He shut and locked the door behind him, and got halfway down the stairs before stopping. He sighed and rubbed the scars running across the right side of his face. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and went back to his room. The kitten hadn't moved.
"Bad decision, bad decision," he muttered as he opened the window and carefully picked up the kitten with a hand significantly larger than it. He set it on his empty desk, next to some scraps left over from his noon meal. He got another empty plate and scrapped some water from the window sill onto it for the kitten. He considered the kitten, still drenched, eating a piece of pork rind, and emptied his laundry basket on the floor. He set the basket upside over the kitten and the plates, to make sure it wouldn't wreck his room once it finished, and snarled at it, in a voice which had terrified enemies and allies alike.
"You're going back outside when I finish tonight." It twitched an ear, but otherwise didn't react, far more interested in the food.
When he got downstairs, a few people were already in the tavern half of the inn, chattering about the army of adventurers who had come back with a dragon's head and hoard. Grallik let his head hang low for just a moment. It was going to be long night.
\*\*\*
At noon, when the "night" of celebrations finally ended, and Grallik had finally thrown the last adventurers out the door or into the rooms they'd rented, he barely had the energy to satisfy his paranoia and double-check the lock before stripping off his armor into a tangled pile and falling into bed. He woke at the usual time next sunset, despite his exhaustion, and began to sit up before he froze. Something was wrong. A logical voice in his head was telling him that he was safe in the inn, while years of battle experience were telling him to be careful. He let his eyes dart around. Window, clear. Doorway, clear. He eased himself up, an inch at a time, alert for anything. Then he groaned in disbelief when he saw the kitten curled up asleep on his stomach.
The basket had moved from where he'd set it, so that just enough hung over the edge of the desk for something small to slip out. Grallik carefully moved the kitten onto the bed beside him before opening the window. He went to pick it up, when it gave a long yawn and stretched. It blinked slowly as it gazed about, and looked up at him. Had its eyes gotten bigger? They stood like that for a few minutes, before Grallik realized what this would look like of one of the inn's servers came, planning to wake him up. He hardened his heart with experience and reached down to grab it, and the kitten jumped at the hand. He watched, unmoving, as the kitten tried to bite one of his protruding knuckles, then tumbled away to blink at him upside down.
Without consciously intending to, he stroked its belly with a single finger, and it started purring. He sighed.
"A wise warrior know when to declare defeat," he muttered, hearing his mother's voice in the familiar words. He took a seat on the bed beside the kitten to carefully pet it some more before he had to start work. He smiled when he realized it fit easily into one of his palms. That night, when someone worked up the courage to ask the towering half-orc bouncer why he had a kitten on his shoulder, Grallik patted the sword hilt poking over his other shoulder, and rumbled,
"It matches my sword, Cleaver of Bodies."
He ran a finger gently between the kitten's ears,
"This is my cat, Cleaver of Souls."
|
The grey morning sun greets me as I open my eyes. Light hazes through the opening in my battle tent, and I can hear the clink of metal and the chatter of men outside. Sitting up, I stretch my arms, then throw my sore legs over the side of my cot. My feet meet mud, and there's dirt on my scarred body.
That's one constant in war. Dirt is on everything.
I stand and stretch once more, and the yellow tent top brushes against my hair. Hopefully, the armor-bearers had time to clean my plate, though I doubted it. With a battle like yesterday's, they'd be hard at work and even with my reputation, there wasn't really favoritism in those sorts of administrative things. Although you ne--
...
What is that?
It was small. *Really* small. It could fit in my hand, probably, and was covered in fur, brown with white on the feet. And it, too, was caked with mud, though soft, black eyes stared curiously at me. Was it some sort of monkey or something? This new land had all sorts of novel creatures, some so violent it felt at times that we were conquering two nations at once. This little monkey walked on all fours, though, so it had to be something completely new.
And it just stood there in the tent opening.
I looked at it for a moment longer, wondering if this would make for a nice snack over the fire, before simply settling on a, "Beat it!" as I made to exit the tent. The creature jolted and took off, scampering around the fabric wall. As I stepped out into the light of day, I turned and could see the creature running into the forest beyond. "Hm," I said, then set off into the war-camp, nodding at the salutes men gave to me along the way.
Time to locate my armor.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
The sunset made me think of death as we marched back from the battle. I looked at the blinding orange and red over the ridge, and thought of it as a final gesture to those fallen on the field today.
The sun marking their endings with his own.
My legs and arms ached deeply, but I walked with a straight back, my mace resting on my plated shoulders. Couldn't slouch in front of my men. Low chatter and hoof scuffs were the only noises as we trekked into camp, the forest of yellow tents a welcome sight. Servants bustled about, preparing food and attending to the wounded we had hauled back. An armor-bearer approached me. "My lord," he bowed, then began to untie the straps on my breastplate. I stood, arms out, as more joined him, one taking my blood-soaked mace from my hand. He was barely able to lift it with both arms, lugging it to the nearby river for washing.
After a much-needed dip in the water, I walked to the nearest cook, received a steaming bowl of stew, and made to return to my tent. Not the usual practice; typically, I'd join the other men for dinner, a ritual which helped everyone decompress after the bloodshed. But tonight was different. *Something* was different. I wasn't quite sure if it was a welcome difference or not, but I could feel it nonetheless. I dipped my head, and entered the tent, my den. Darker than outside, yet still lit dimly by the fires outside.
I ate alone, in silence, laughter riding in on the firelight through the opening. Somebody began tuning a stringed instrument, no doubt McEntire with his mandolin. That was good. The men needed it.
A little shadow stepped in front of the opening. It was the creature, of course. Suddenly, it dawned on me. *It* was the cause of the difference. Something about it (*about* ***him****,* I decided in my mind) changed how I fought today. I could see it in those I killed. An innocence, a youthfulness. The fear in their eyes when I thundered to them, ready to tear them to pieces, before filled me with feral glee. But today, it had made me sick. It was like killing children.
The little beast stayed in the doorway, sitting this time, the same inquisitive expression on his face. With a shaking hand, I reached into my stew bowl and pulled out a little chunk of beef. "Hey," I whispered, voice wavering, hand extended. "Come here." The creature plodded right over, no hesitation. He took the beef in his mouth, furry nose gracing my fingers for a moment. I looked at that hand for a long moment, then reached down and scooped up the creature, picking up the beef bits remaining with my other hand.
He ate them out of my palm, standing on my lap. Slowly, with watering eyes, I stroked his back, his head. Then I wept. For the first time in years. Tears hit the creatures back, but he didn't seem to mind as he munched on the meat.
*What were we doing out here?*
The beast finished, and looked up at me, tongue licking his lips. Something had to change. It would change. This killing, this death, it was completely senseless. My eyes were opened. I picked the creature up to my face and stared at him. "Thank you," I said. He opened his mouth, and let out a short, high-pitched noise. I stood, beast in hand, and exited the tent, making my way to the king.
| 2021-04-16T20:52:45 | 2021-04-16T20:18:31 | 112 | 11 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer.
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“We’re offering you a decent pay, full benefits, and a fairly relaxed schedule. What’s not to love about the job?”
“The murder. The civilian casualties. The stupid fuck’n supe names.” I replied
The well dressed yet clearly disillusioned man sat up,“But that’s the thing. We’re offering you a very relaxed deal with full benefits. You’d pick your own name, pick your own missions, and only need to show up for the most extreme emergencies given your powers.”
“Oh so some poor B-ranker would get horribly disfigured or killed while I sit back and wait for my phone to ring. My answer is still fuck no.” I replied again not changing my tone.
“Look… Jason.” His own tone shifted into absolute seriousness, “We’re the US government, and we’re really not asking anymore.” As he said that I could hear helicopters and armored vehicles down the road.
“You should call off the forces coming toward the house.”
“No, we’re getting you to join wether you want to or not. According to our records your powers would change everything, at least think of the good you could do.”
“Or you could think of your own life.” I said as I widened my eyes and stared directly into his, “You could think of the lives of all those men in the armored vehicles too. Government or not I’ll do what I need to.”
“You think we couldn’t stop you. Those vehicles are full of powered soldiers and anti-super weapons.”
“You must have some pretty inaccurate records if you think that means anything. Do you know what my powers are?”
“Energy projection, you can shoot beams of energy with extreme accuracy and power. Besides that you have enhanced durability, strength, stamina, and speed even compared to others with powers.” He said feeling so assure of himself.
“Absorption. Energy Absorption.”
“Oh so what you absorb electricity or something and are able to project it out.”
“No. Punch me and see what happens.” I said antagonistically. He paused and thought about it, “Punch me you stupid suite wearing fed piece of shit.” Without hesitation he did just that and planted a fist right into my face. I could tell he had some sort of pent up aggression from our conversations. It did nothing though. It simply just lost all its momentum as it touched my skin.
A shocked look came across his face, “That should’ve.. I mean.. I felt like I gave up.. like as soon as it made contact my fist.. it went limp.”
“Kinetic, electrical, thermal…” My eyes began to glow, “Even nuclear and energy in sound waves”
“You ca…” He began to talk but it soon faded into silence. I was absorbing the energy from the air in the room meaning his voice was silent as his lips continued to move. Panic set into his face as he realized he couldn’t speak. He then struggled to move as he realized parts of his body began to loose energy. Silent terror washed across his face.
I pushed my hand onto his chest, “Even the energy of a heart beat.” I could feel the rapid beating of his heart as it began to get slower and slower, “Do you understand now. You’ve created a scenario where I’ll have to fight.” I heard the vehicles and helicopters outside. I looked into his eyes just before the light went out in them, “I want you to know before you die that you killed all those men out there. Oh.. and that you created the disaster that’s about to happen to this country.”
|
"I have a stable job, a prosperous future ahead of me, and you want me to risk my life to kill some self-proclaimed villains to make you look good?" I didn't even try to hide my distaste for their idea. The people I was talking to right now were high government officials who specialized in recruiting "promising individuals," and I happened to be one of them.
If they at least offered me a normal job, with good pay and benefits, I might even consider it, but they expect me to risk my life and become a hero . To fight some laughable 'bad guys' who spend their time demolishing ( abandoned ) houses, smearing walls with 'evil' phrases and intimidating people with their superpowers - always making sure to keep a safe distance of at least eight meters from them. Absolute pranksters. And because that's not enough, they expect me not only to quit my job, but to work for free. Because heroes don't take money, they do it for the people - their words, not mine. What a wonder no one wants to be a hero anymore.
That could be another reason why those damn recruiters are so persistent....
"Sir, it's a matter of national security. If necessary, the government can force your workplace to fire you - if quitting is not an option. I'm sure the job of a superhero is a much better fit for you than ... whatever you're doing right now," he said with a look that expressed pure belittlement.
"...", I wanted to raise my voice, grab him by the shiny collar and show him what I thought of his 'offer', but I remained silent. I wasn't stupid, violence would put me in an even more uncomfortable position than I already was. Although, to be honest, I doubted mine was any better at the moment. This is the third time they've been here, they've visited my employee to make sure there are no problems, that I quit without notice, and now we're talking again. Although you can hardly call it talking, threatening would be much more fitting.
"Let's do it." I yielded to the pressure. I didn't even have to look up to see their victorious smiles on their faces.
They were congratulating me for becoming a hero, acting as if I had chosen to protect the country and had not been forced to do so, but I smiled anyway. It's not the right time to be rebellious. Without taking a minute, they took me to a training facility to prepare me for the job. I felt like a high school student training for gym day - so how could I not hate it?
But it won't be for nothing, I kept telling myself.
I'll be a superhero, but not for long. I never said I was going to do a good job. Do you have a villain? Oh, sorry, I was aiming a little off. Can you please send the fire department to put out the building? You need an interview? I'm your man! Give me a minute, I'll douse myself in pig's blood to look like a real-life superhero to the public! That's what I call dedication! Do you have any secret information about the bad guys' next moves? I'm about to - oh, sorry, I accidentally sent it to some newspaper writers. Ehm, let's trust them, it's not like they could use the information.
Let's see how long they keep me as a hero!
| 2022-07-31T15:04:17 | 2022-07-31T12:24:21 | 215 | 141 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
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Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/).
|
I am the most important person. I'm happy when I hear something from the outside world - talking, musik, anything. Then I know that I am not alone. It's always dark here, but warm. I know, that I have to leave this place soon, though I don't want to. They wait for me to come, they are very curious about me. The world revolves around me, after all. I am her and she is me.
When I finally leave, it is frightening cold. I scream because I don't understand.
The doctor says: "It's a boy!"
| 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 2015-01-12T18:17:13 | 88 | 10 |
[WP] I (23M, human) asked my Orc gf (22F) to stop deadlifting my familymembers when she comes over for the holidays because it made me look small and weak. Now she and the rest of the family keep forcing me to run laps and lift whole roasted hogs when I visit for orc holidays. AITA?
Saw this here and thought it was an awesome prompt: [https://imgur.com/gallery/GUmU4d6](https://imgur.com/gallery/GUmU4d6)
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Humans... Always getting cause and effect backwards. Might wanna look into orc history and culture if you wanna join the clan. 😂
Don't feel bad though, my elvish in-law was just as caught off guard. Once you realize what's going on, you'll probably cherish this time with your orc side of the family.
You see, you're being prepared for fatherhood...
If one of your in-laws is having a child soon, the patriarch or matriarch has chosen you to be the godfather. This is lucky for you, because the majority of the attention will be on your brother in-law.
If your in-laws already have kids, it could be that something is happening that is being kept quiet. Cancer for example, and you are being chosen to be the godfather in lieu of whoever was chosen at the child's birth. Essentially, you're thought of as a better choice. Your wife's parents must absolutely adore you if that's the case.
There's also the possibility that... They just want grandchildren 🤣. Preparing you for fatherhood before anything is essentially the orc version of your parents asking "when are you gonna have me some grandchildren!?" Which is beyond acceptance, they want halflings to spoil.
It's important to remember, in the distant past only the patriarch would be allowed to sire children. This is because orc children are pretty strong from the getgo, and it was thought that only the strongest male could handle the task.
Thing is, we found herbs and more recently science along with the industrial food supply which makes getting enough protein easy.
At some point, your father in law may ask you to drink a concoction that contains his blood as well as many herbs. Do not turn this down! It will imbew you with orc strength and change the very biological function of your musculature. It's considered necessary to become a dad to orcs, and it's very difficult to source.
After my brother in-law took it, he got way way bigger than any elf I've ever seen!
If you're an asshole for anything, it's not talking to your wife about this. I'm sure she'll explain this to you, she probably hadn't even thought about you not understanding what's happening.
My biggest tip for you though, is to hit the gym until your dog tired every day. You're an orc in the hearts of your clan, show them you take it seriously and they will love you for it.
|
INFO: What, exactly, do you mean when it makes you feel small and weak?
I'll get this out of the way right now, if this is an emasculation thing, YTA twice over. One for making a stink over the fact that your girlfriend is stronger than you. If you need to feel like a big strong man and protect your dainty lady, do her the favor of telling her she deserves a man more secure than you at her side and end things. And YTA even more that instead of dumping your bendy straw ass her family wants to bring you in and make you stronger so you don't feel like shit about that, and then you COMPLAIN?! Forget looking for a girlfriend, just get a fucking hamster if all you want is something to be bigger and stronger than without putting in the effort.
That being said, is this more of a vulnerability thing? That's valid, and something that gnomes and goblins and the like have to deal with all the time. Let her know that the culture you and your family are from is very different to hers. That for you guys, getting picked up and slung around can come off as threatening, it's not how you guys show affection. In cultures like orcs or even Goliaths, something like that is a way of saying, "see how strong I am? If you're in danger I'll protect you." feats of strength are displays of safety in cultures with a strong emphasis on athletics or combat. But you need to sit her down and talk to her about this. Let her know that for your family, that comes off as "see how strong I am? Upset me and I'll snap you like a twig." she'll need to make that effort to adjust for your family, but you need to make an effort too. That's how she shows affection in all likelihood so you need to get used to being dead lifted and not taking offense to that. And definitely be gracious that they're trying to include you but you can politely decline if that's not your scene. But don't be afraid to open up more, maybe offer to show them some of your interests, like archery or alchemy or divination. And in this case I'd say NAH, just some growing pains over a bit of culture shock.
| 2022-10-18T14:09:38 | 2022-10-18T13:52:46 | 90 | 18 |
[WP] "No person shall be executed without their last meal made to their liking." The prisoners know this and make insane requests. You, as the chef for death row, somehow procure the otherworldly ingredients for their meals.
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"A pepper so hot God himself could not eat it."
The pepper was inscribed with absolute ontological proof of God's non-existance and thus inability to eat anything
"A meal that leaves me content that I will get into heaven."
By a prisoner who saw the pepper. An angel descended from heaven and talked with him over the meal, leading him to reconciliation and saving his soul.
"A foot long antimatter sandwhich."
Opening a portal to a universe where antimatter vastly outnumbered matter was difficult. Getting him to the moon where he could safely eat it without endangering a continent was easy after that.
"Unicorn steak."
It broke my heart thinking about killing one. Fortunately, Mordecai's Wholesale in the forgotten realms has it at 2 for 1.
"Your heart."
Thank God for cloning.
"A pardon of all my crimes, legally binding, written on ham."
Clever, but a quick consult with a lawyer revealed he didn't specify the pardon's effective date. Effective date 24 hours after execution. Ham acquired from local deli.
"A Hogwarts Christmas feast."
Accessing fictional realms without disrupting them is difficult. Fortunately, house elves are incredibly helpful.
"Immortality pills."
Execution altered to encasing in concrete and burying in an abandoned mine shaft, which was then collapsed. Mine shaft located on a continent currently undergoing subduction. Estimated date of freedom sometime after the Sun swallows the Earth. It is believed by the time the prisoner could possibly be free upon a planet's surface food, at least as we know it, will not exist, making it in fact his last meal.
"A shamrock shake and a mcrib. Both genuine McDonald's."
Careful manipulation of the pork market brought this about 20 months after the request was made.
"A meal cooked by an anti-death penalty activist."
It isn't often I feel bad about these. I had to lie to him and tell him it was a charity event and have him cook for the whole wing. He (rightly) hates me now.
"Something I won't like."
Made prisoner's favorite childhood meal. He liked it. Upon pointing out his liking it meant we could execute him, he hated it, achieving the necessary contradiction.
Part 2 below
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"It's always just been a knack really. I've always just been able to stumble upon what I've needed. You can ask any previous employer."
My interviewer gestured stiffly, so I took it as a sign to continue.
"Did some time aboard a fishing boat as a kid. Cap'n had his own method of organization. No one knew it. Hell, I don't even know it. But I could always go down and just... Find what he asked me for. The sea sickness never really left, though. Did deliveries for a while, never couldn't find an address, but that was just in-between work. Worked in the forge, the smith was notorious for setting down a tool and just forgetting where it was but I could just reach and find it, just never really had the eye or feel for metal."
Probably not my best showing, but the way he would just...stare at me. I don't think he was particularly used to this, the hiring. By gods, he was unnervingly hard to read. I couldn't keep the silence.
"Even took a tour with the wizards, looking for stuff. Never understood what I was getting, but never let them down. They're just..m frustrating to work with I'm afraid. I think I work better on my own. But yes it's always been that I can find whatever I need, with a quickness, if I have the means to get there. I just... Seem to know where things are."
He finally spoke, and it should have been a relief but, by the gods, I felt it in my soul. Later, I recalled his mouth didn't seem to move.
"THE...MEANS...WILL BE PROVIDED. PROMPTNESS AND ABILITY TO LOCATE ODD ITEMS IS OF UPMOST IMPORTANCE KEEPING THE CONDEMNED FROM UPSETTING THE SCHEDULE. IT SAYS HERE YOU COOK AS A HOBBY, CORRECT?"
| 2020-02-19T10:49:43 | 2020-02-19T10:24:30 | 36 | 22 |
[WP]: A siren, not blessed with the mesmerising beauty of his sisters, must lure sailors into jumping into the water by challenging them to fight him.
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"I collected nine souls yesterday," Peisinoe laughed, lounging on her rock. "How many did *you* collect, brother?"
Peisinoe and the rest of his sisters cackled at him, as per their weekly tradition. Glaucos scowled. No matter how many times in eternity he heard their ribbing, it never went down easy.
Glaucos was a siren. Part of a lineage of immortals who took pleasure and thrived by stealing and ingesting the souls of men who dared sail near their shores. It must have been some sort of Zeus-decreed joke that that he was the only siren ever that was not only male, but without the gift of song, nor beauty. Instead, he only had the gift of language. Useless, when music transcends language.
"You are basically like a *mortal* you know, brother," chimed Thelxiepeia.
Glaucos started, rising to his feet and glowering.
"You know what-"
He stopped, eyes distracted by a the sight of a ship sailing toward them from the horizon. His sisters followed his line of sight, and rose to their feet, licking their lips.
"Dinner!" Aglaope hissed, slinking forward.
"Wait!"
Glaucos grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back.
"I saw them first. The ship belongs to me."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Peisinoe held up her hand, hushing her.
"You're right, brother. You *did* see the ship first. Go on, why don't you sing them a song?"
He glowered at them as he marched toward the sea, blocking out the chorus of laughter that bore into his back. It had been weeks since his last batch of souls. His bitch sisters were always jumping ahead and claiming his victims as their own, claiming they were *looking out for him* because of his *disability*. He was relegated to only collecting souls at night, when they were asleep and snoring and drooling like hags.
If only their entranced men could see them then.
As he neared the shoreline, he picked up a piece of cloth he had fashioned for this exact occasion and slipped it over his head. He picked up a few rocks, waded into the water, and waited.
Soon, the bow of the ship drew near, and Glaucos steeled himself. He cleared his throat, and hurled a few rocks at the deck.
"Hey!" he yelled.
Two heads popped over the rails, one with an eye patch and one with heinous teeth. They stared down at him, looking angry as Hades.
"Oi, what the fuck mate?"
"Yeah, who the fuck are ya throwing rocks and shit at our boat?"
Glaucos paused. This dialect was foreign to him, and he had never heard sailors passing through with this sort of tongue. He took a second to process their vernacular.
"You wanna go mate? You're in my sea right now, fuck off ya dog."
The sailors looked at each other, and Heinous Teeth leered down at him.
"You fucken wot?"
Glaucos smirked. It was starting to work.
"You heard me mate, fuck off."
Four more men joined them at the railing, staring down in half wonder, half rage. Eyepatch spoke this time.
"Or what, cunt?"
"Come down here and find out then!" Glaucos grinned. "Or are you a bunch of *pussies* on that boat?"
At this point, six more men joined them, peeking between shoulders at the spectacle of the weird lonely man floating in the water, goading their captain.
"Oi nah fuck this, you're not gonna let him speak to you like that are ya Captain?" Eyepatch yelled.
Five more men appeared, obviously wanting to spectate what was going to be the fight of their lifetime. Glaucos quickly counted how many had appeared, licking his lips. This would be quite the haul.
"Okay then, what's taking so long? Waiting for ya mum to give you permission?"
Heinous Teeth lunged over the railing so violently he almost fell over the side.
"WHAT?! DID YOU JUST MENTION ME MUM?"
"Yeah, I did. What're you gonna do about it?!"
"OH, YOU WANNA GO?" Heinous Teeth screeched, ripping at his rags.
"*YOU* WANNA GO?" countered Glaucos, ripping off his own rags and smacking his chest. The removal of clothing always seemed to get them fired up, for some reason. Must be Romans.
"You and all your men, bet you can't take me in the water. Come on then!"
Heinous Teeth's eyes bulged from his head in rage. "I'll fucking show you, you filthy son of a bitch!" He whipped his head around to his crew. "All you fucks better be right behind me, or I'll kill you all myself!"
And with that, he threw himself overboard into the sea, bellowing curse words loudly and gesticulating bizarre hand motions. He landed with a heavy splash, followed by several of his men. Glaucos closed his eyes and listened, counting off the number of his haul, feeling splash after splash on his face as he felt chill after chill entering his core.
He opened his eyes again, gleefully surveying the damage around him. The water was littered with bobbing bodies and filthy rags. Unfortunately, his way of harvesting souls was a bit anticlimactic. He grinned, swimming over to Heinous Teeth to grab his dagger before swimming back to shore. He'd deal with the ship later.
He sauntered up, back to where his sisters were watching, mouth agape. He twirled his newly gotten dagger in his hand.
"Seventeen souls," he breathed, looking cockily at each and every one of his bitch sisters. "How many did *you* collect, sisters?"
|
"Captain!"
Abbotson looked up from his charts and blinked his eyes. How long had he been sitting there? The door to his cabin was thrown open and Abbotson leaned back in the bolted-down desk chair.
The Bosun stood there, his eyes wild and his chest heaving. Sweat or seawater drenched his face and hair. He was a large man, and not one to be easily intimidated. He'd seen storms and pirates and had shown great fortitude in all circumstance. To see his unshakable countenance tarnished struck down into the very heart of Captain Abbotson.
"Meritz, collect your good self." Abbotson stood up and moved around the desk, unconsciously adjusting the positions of his pistols and sword.
"Sir!" Meritz stepped to the side and pointed out of the door he'd just come through, "Look."
The captain gaped as he saw outside. Before his ship sat a monster. It's face was as wide as a mainsail. It had the arms of an octopus but the beak of an exotic bird of prey. It was was wet and colored like the grey of the fog at night. It's eyes were endless black pools... and atop it's head stood a figure in full plate armor, a heavy broadsword held in both hands with it's point resting on the creature's forehead.
"My gods, man!" The captain breathed as he stumbled passed the Bosun, "What foul demon has descended on us? What sin hath summoned this misfortune on our journey?"
**I AM RYCENNEL, LORD KING OF THIS PASSAGE. THE WATERS FROM THE HEARTROCK TO THE COAST OF HEST I CLAIM AS MY OWN. NO MAN MAY PASS EXCEPT BY CHALLENGE.**
The words echoed and seemed to linger in the air as if they were a physical thing. Every sailor on board felt something deaden their heart and weigh it down.
"I say!" The captain dared not show fear before his men. He marched down the line of his ship, each step of his boots steady and sure, never once stepping on a line of misplaced rigging or dredge buckets, "What are the exact requirements of this challenge?"
Rycennel's head tilted lower to look at the captain. Somewhere deep inside his helmet a light glinted off of his eyes. His knees bent and he catapulted himself off of the head of the monster with an agility that no man should be able to accomplish in full plate metal. He performed a slow, acrobatic flip in the air before landing in a low crouch, all the while keeping his eyes locked with those of Caption Abbotson.
**If one man succeeds in knocking me off your vessel then your men shall receive safe passage through my waters until the life has expired from you.**
"I have no confidence that any one man may stand against you as an equal." The Captain felt safe in saying so after watching the man's leap. He would lose no face in admitting the great power the stranger had.
**This is correct. I challenge all men here.**
"My crew against you?"
**Yes**
Captain Abbotson pondered this, looking around to the faces of his men. Some showed terror, others anger, and others confidence borne out of a decade of sailing with Abbotson. One lad in particular was grinning. The Captain frowned at him until the lad twitched a finger toward something on the deck. The Captain followed the indication and caught himself before his own smile took hold.
"I believe we ill accept your challenge." The Captain pulled his sword. It was an officer's sword, decorated but kept sharp. "Shall we begin?"
**We Begin**
The young lad that had smiled before immediately grabbed a coil of room on the peg beside him. He pulled the rope and grinned widely as the rope pulled tight around Rycennel's feet. The armored man tripped and fell forward so quickly and easily that the whole deck stood still at the suddenness of it. The young lad, however, did not hesitate. He quickly knotted his rope to another then cut a second, secured line. The line snapped away, releasing a section of sale that now only remained anchored by the rope wrapped around Rycennel's feet. The armored man was dragged across the deck, slowly at first, but faster as all the deckhands joined in to help push him off their ship. In half a minute since the challenge began, the man had been tossed overboard.
The ship was full of cheering and shouts of the young lad's name. The Captain sighed in relief, but didn't exult. It shouldn't have been that easy. It shouldn't have been that quick.
Rycellen leaped from the ocean, shining in the sun with seawater and polished armor. He landed atop his monster and his eyes gleamed with unnatural light.
**YOU HAVE WON. I WILL KEEP MY BARGAIN. YOU AND YOUR MEN HAVE SAFE PASSAGE THROUGH MY WATERS.**
Cheers and laughs answered the stranger as he moved back. Riggings were fixed and the ship began to sail once more. The Captain stood still amidst this, a frown slowly growing on his face. The mind that methodically plotted courses and gathered rumors of storms to be took to task this suspicion. He worked over the last few minutes in his head. There was something wrong. This had been too-
"BOSUN!" The Captain roared, ripping the ropes out of the hands of a passing sailor, "DROP THE SAIL! DO NOT PRESS ON!"
The bosun turned to face the captain just as the mainsail struck hard wind, pushing the ship forward with a great surge. Captain Abbotson felt his heart drop inside his chest.
**YOUR SHIP, HOWEVER, DOES NOT YET HAVE MY PERMISSION TO PASS.**
The monster descended upon the vessel and Captain Abbotson knew death, slow and agonizing, as he and his men were left in the waters with not a single piece of driftwood between them. True to his word, Rycellen did not take sword or beast to his men, but stood and watched as they all drowned, one by one.
| 2017-01-11T04:36:32 | 2017-01-11T04:29:48 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] You send your DNA off to discover your ancestry. One day you see several suspicious looking cars pull up outside your house. Military officers begin to surround your home and a woman gets out of one of the cars and walk straight to your front door. They have your DNA results.
|
Luna was sat down, the results of her dna test having been explained to her already. She waa frowning, trying to piece it together.
"That's impossible - there's no way it could be a perfect match," she explained to the woman and men in the suits before her. "For one, I have a vagina. Kinda need a Y chromosome to have a penis like he did." The woman coughed.
"Yes, well, there *is* a reason for that -" she pulled out a different folder. A medical folder. Luna grabbed it an dlipped through it for a moment, her jaw dropping at what she read. "From what is there, your parents felt that the information should be sealed. Permanently. Apparently an intersex child back then was quite the shame. My apologies." Luna felt tears welling up in her eyes, felt her age sink into her as she leaned back in her chair. Her parents had spent their entire life lying to her, and now that they were dead and buried it wasn't even like she could hold them accountable for it.
Not like she hadn't already danced on their graves when they died, those abusive bastards.
"So what, I had a twin? An identical twin that turned out to be the volunteer for some experiment with your department?" The woman nodded vigorously, clearly jittery from her nerves.
"It was during the Cold War - lots of secret experimentations went on. Have you seen the show *Stranger Things* on Netflix?" Luna shook her head. "Well, one of the characters - named Eleven - is an experimental child. Similar concept, but different." Luna just closed her eyes, soaking it all in.
"So what do you need me for." She asked. "What experiment do you want with me." The woman leaned forward.
"With your DNA being a perfect match for your twin brother's - we can send you to go and find him, and bring him back to us. You can save him." Luna gripped her skirt tightly.
She could have a real family. One she always wanted. "Where would I be going?"
"The French Revolution." Well fuck all kinds of ducks.
|
Her footsteps followed a precise rhythm, her heels never missing a beat on the cracked pavement. He tight, brunette bun coupled with a tailor-fitted suit told Aaron she was of high importance. The four armed guards surrounding her gave off that impression, too. She carried a black briefcase with a silver double helix engraved into the side, and her other hand formed a fist. Her arms hung straight and motionless as she walked towards the house. Aaron watched the approach through the small window next to the door. He stood back as they got closer, he knew being close to them wasn't a good idea. They weren't here to sell cookies, that's for sure.
The sound of the woman's heels came to a stop as she reached the door. Three firm knocks followed.
'Who is it?' Aaron called out, positioned next to his staircase.
'Aaron, we need you to come out. It's a very important matter. We need you to co-operate.' the woman replied.
'H-how do you know my name?' Aaron started to sweat. He was in danger, he could feel it.
'We will get to that later. There are more pressing matters at hand. Please, Aaron. It's for your own good.'
Aaron was silent. He was trapped, in his own home. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. One of the guard's radios crackled, breaking the silence between Aaron and the woman.
'The Anomaly has failed to co-operate. Breaching.' the guard announced.
Aaron shut his eyes tightly, and felt the ever so comfortable burn build up inside him. The front door crashed open.
Without moving a muscle, Aaron sent the door flying back through the doorway, knocking the guards and the woman onto the pavement. Aaron gritted his teeth. He could feel his head starting to burn hotter and hotter as splinters of wood flew in all directions. He walked slowly over to the doorway and revealed his pitch black eyes. Nobody said a word as one of the black SUVs hovered above the woman and her guards. They all looked up in silence, a silence that came to an end as the car came crashing down on top of them.
| 2019-08-05T20:03:16 | 2019-08-05T18:13:14 | 49 | 33 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends his Christmas letter to Satan. Satan is touched by this gesture and decides to write back.
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Dear Paul,
Thank you for that lovely letter, I'm glad to hear you're waiting for me and prepared me an offering of cow udder excrement and a traditional mixture of sugar, flour and chocolates.
Although not what I usually get in offering I shall gladly accept. In return I enclose your Christmas wishes for this year.
A Boy Brain and a Knight's Saber. Might I recommend using the later for future sacrifices should you have any more wishes.
Yours forever damned,
Satan, Lucifer, The morning star, Beelzebub, The adversary, Tempter, God of this world, Ruler of demons...etc etc etc.
P.S. Please leave a drop of blood in the signature area below to acknowledge the completion of this transaction.
|
Dear Timothy.
I've gotten the list of things you've asked for.
I assure you I am very capable of bringing your dog back. Just as well, I can stop the teasing and jeering of your elder sister.
I was informed as to what a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" is, and I believe I can acquire that as well.
However, I'm not certain why you would want a monstrous truck. It sounds rather brutal for a child your age, but even I must admit it does sound fun.
I will deliver your presents on time, I give you my word.
Regards - "Satan" Morning star.
| 2018-10-28T10:18:04 | 2018-10-28T10:08:58 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them?
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Marriage, a truly incredible thing. Occasionally it was a truly horrid occasion, when one spouse is marrying for power. Occasionally it was a truly magical happening, when a marriage signified a bond of true love.
All of it boiled down to the changing. In the moments when the officiant said the words that made a couple's bond official, there was power. Power to change one's other half, to make them anew, for better or for worse.
Joan sat alone, in a small dressing room, thinking about these things. Fearing what Ald would do, but knowing that her fear was irrational. Ald was hers, and she was his, and they were made for each other.
As she walked to the altar, she was once more reminded of what could go wrong. In the crowd, she saw a few who had arguably lost more than they gained, even if the marriage was decent. Her aunt Eleanor could barely walk under the weight of her chest, and the seat where her father's father should be was empty due to his heart being unable to overcome his incredible size.
She refocused, doing her best to block out her fears, as she stood across from her to-be husband. Her Ald, tall, red-headed, and always kind to all around him despite his physical deficiencies. Even in his white tuxedo, his frail frame was notable, and she knew it was just a fact of life for him.
She closed her eyes as they said their vows, focusing on the image of Ald that she had in mind. A little taller, a little stronger, a little bigger for *later*, and free of the degenerative disease that had held him back.
She opened her eyes, and realized that she had forgotten something. Ald had an opportunity to change her too, and judging by the tightness of her dress over her chest and the angle from which she was looking, she had changed.
And then she remembered. Ald liked tall, busty, and strong women.
Joan had to admit, he had good taste.
|
It should come as no surprise that, when two furries get married, they each wish for the other person to become their true fursona, their inner animal that radiates the strongest in them. So when I woke up the next morning on the first day of the honeymoon, my wife and I somehow literally having become one flesh as a four-armed, two-headed, twin-tailed hermaphroditic self-procreating [bassarisk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) taur, it really shouldn't have sent that many shockwaves throughout the community. But apparently, it's really rare for two people whom God has picked to be husband and wife to actually meet, let alone get married, and so that Biblical saying about their union can get a lot more literal when certain appearance-altering wishes are made.
Years have gone by since that day, and our many kids - who thankfully, at least for now, are normal humans - are starting to set out into the world themselves. Every night we pray that they, too, may find the person God has picked out for them, and we still have another litter on the way even now. It is good that our sudden fame brought us fortune and that we made good investments with it, as otherwise we'd be on the streets instead of in a mansion to house our family that could rival the Hopps' in its size. We run our lower belly, nipples pert for breastfeeding, and are about to relax for the night when the phone rings. We shed a few joyful tears when our first-born child shows up on the screen, conjoined to his wife as a two-headed hermaphroditic wolf. Yes, it may seem like a curse, literally being of one flesh with your spouse, but we can tell you: It is a blessing and joy that few things on Earth can match.
Edit: Two-headed, not two-handed. Thanks u/VennTheSW for pointing out that typo brought on by autocorrect.
| 2022-12-07T23:24:42 | 2022-12-07T22:07:24 | 128 | 29 |
[WP] It's 2022. Deep fakes are common, and nobody can prove pictures aren't faked. For the first time since the 90's, you can do what you want in public without worrying about being photographed.
|
"Your honor, my client Kate, also known by her street name Kitty, would like to contest that the video footage of her robbing this bank is doctored via a means called Deep Fake, and that she is innocent of these charges! We would like to put forward a motion that the charges be dismissed on these grounds!"
The judge lets out a tired sigh. "Sir, the bank cameras utilize tamper-proof storage, and all of the hash checks in the independent off-site backup match. The footage is genuine. In addition, we have 27 witnesses who have sworn under oath that they saw Ms. Kate threaten a teller with a pink silicon adult toy. You will need to try harder than that, counselor. Motion denied. Bail is denied. Balif, please remand Kitty here back into custody. Trial shall commence at the next available date, which according to the docket will not be until Thursday, June 7. Next case please."
"OH. And would somebody please tell OP to try harder? Thank you."
|
Used to a bad pic sealed your fate. Was a thing many did hate. Everyone had proof on why you might be late. But More fake pics came at an alarming rate. This was good for a girl named Kate.
Kate knew her way through her city, so when it came to crime she was wuite witty. She even had a streetname, she was the Kitty.
Kitty walked through the streets, but in broad daylight and the heat. She planned a crime , AN ENORMOUS FEAT.
With confidence she walked down to the bank. At their jobs the gaurds mustve stank... she walked out with money (nobody even got shanked).
She was taken to court, but a smile on her face. She was confident she could win this case. For she knew this wouldnt end is some kinda chase. She said that the pictures of her were all deep fakes.
No lawyer could beat that, she already won. So she decided it was time for more robberies in the sun.
| 2018-02-07T16:53:35 | 2018-02-07T15:02:21 | 242 | 36 |
[WP] When you die, a field of text appears in limbo, revealing the high scores of life, and your score. Your score is the top score.
|
"Congratulations! You just won The Game."
"Where am... w... what game?"
"EXACTLY! No one else lasted as long as you, NOT thinking about The Game. 95 years, 4 months, 22 days, 3 hours, 32 minutes and 9.11 seconds is the new record. What a lifetime!"
"Who the hell are you?"
"Gottlieb."
"...Gottlieb?"
"Call me God. So, what was your name again?"
"...what?!"
"Your. Full. Name. I'm gonna put it on this leaderboard I made."
"Amy- uh- Adelaide Amelia Anneliese?"
"...Ain't nobody gonna read that. AAA it is."
|
As the darkness slowly dissipating the words 'Congratulations You Got The Highest Score' appear before me once again. The hell. But I did everything wrong, no matter what I do. If I'm successful, get a good career, a wife and kid I win. If I murder an entire village I win. If I do nothing I win. Even after I killed myself I still win.
I wake once again. Another body in another time. "Why can't I just Fucking loose, I want to move on" I scream. " I think to myself. Every time I win, every time I get another free life. Can't they tell I just want this to all end.
| 2016-06-08T13:24:02 | 2016-06-08T13:07:36 | 227 | 151 |
[WP] Based on her animal friends and singing longingly into the distance, you realize that your daughter is a Disney Protagonist. Per movie rules, you, a Disney Parent, will soon be out of the picture.
|
"Disney doesn't make movies set in mid-town American suburbia," I say, "We're fine." My voice betrays my nervous irritation.
Randy just stares back at me. "Linda, open your eyes," he says. He walks over to the kitchen window and points outside, "Look."
I walk over with forced exasperation, everything in my psyche telling me that this is impossible. Total bullshit. No chance this is happening. Our daughter sits in the garden, her fine hair spread all around her... being braided by chipmunks and squirrels. Birds flap lazily above her, chirping softly. They're not even shitting on her.
"Okay, yes, our daughter undeniably attracts animals, but maybe that is all there is too it," I say.
Randy rolls his eyes. "Linda, you've watched the movies with her, I've watched the movies with her, we've watched way too many Disney movies not to see the signs. Flowing hair, beautiful voice, whimsical attitude, and finally, she's a fucking animal whisperer," he says, his face red, "The scene outside is basically Snow White crossed with Bambi."
"Randy, I'll give you those points, fine. But we're not evil, she's not in distress," I say, trying to convince myself as much as him, "And besides, we watch tons of Disney movies in the first place. She's obsessed with all of the princesses. That's way too meta for Disney."
Randy crosses his arms, not ready to concede his point, "We had to ground her last week. We kept her inside for two full days."
"That's because she didn't do her homework," I say, "She just sat outside singing with her cuddly little army." I put my hand on my husband's shoulder and look him directly in the eyes, "We're not bad parents. In Disney movies the caretakers are evil, terrible things. We're not that."
"We didn't get her that Aerial figure for Christmas last year...."
I cut him off. "Have you seen her fucking room lately? It's stuffed with all sorts of dolls and figures and what have you. I would have *killed* for that when I was her age."
"Right, this still doesn't explain the singing and the talking animals and the beam of bright, warm sunlight that seems to track her as she walks."
I stare out at our daughter who is now quite literally frolicking in the yard. A crash and a bang and our wooden fence suddenly has a gaping hole, a striking figure standing where the fence once was. He is square jawed and straight backed and disturbingly handsome.
"Harken, Princess," he says, his voice deep and rich, his perfect teeth twinkling in the sunlight, "I must take you from here to my castle, where you shall play upon my Harp of Binding." He flashes a coy grin, "Only the most worthy can take my hand in marriage."
Randy bulks. "*Fuck* this," he says,"He's like twenty-five years old and our daughter is twelve." He stomps over to the kitchen counter, "I'm calling the police!"
|
“There. She’s doing it again.” Lisa looked over my shoulder and frowned.
“Hmm?” I turned around and glanced back. I smiled and shook my head. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t worry?” Lisa stared at me in horror. “Don’t WORRY?!? Don’t you realize what that means?”
“What?” I jerked a thumb at Sally. “She’s a kid. She likes looking at clouds, trying to figure out what pictures she sees in them. What’s wrong with that?”
“You don’t get it.” Lisa shook her head. “We’re dead.”
“We’re not dead. You’re overreacting.”
“OMG.”
I blinked. “You did not seriously just say OMG.”
“I did.”
“OMG. Not Oh My God, you said the letters. What is wrong with you?”
“Shut up and look again.”
I looked again. “Ok, so yeah, that’s a bit harder to explain. So butterflies like her. So what? We live in a Disney kind of world, you know? That’s not all that unusual to have kids with weird kind of abilities like that, you know?”
“But come on, Harold!” Lisa was pale. “She’s looking off into the distance, she’s starting to collect animal friends…. OMG she’s a…”
“Would you please stop saying the letters? That’s really annoying. Just say oh my God or something.”
“WOULD YOU JUST…”
“Lisa.” I grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me. Think carefully. I know what you’re thinking, ok?”
“But… but…”
“Listen to me, ok? There is no way, and I mean no WAY that our daughter could have Protagonist syndrome, ok? Think about it.”
I saw her eyes go wide. I glanced over to the side, and sure enough, there was now a frog and a few birds hanging around Sally too. “So what. Animals like her. Deal with it. She’s not a Protagonist.”
“The signs are there, Harold!”
“SHE CAN’T SING!”
Lisa blinked. “What?”
I sighed. “Think about it. She auditioned for Frozen a while back, remember? They laughed her off the stage. She tried out for the choir. The pastor was much nicer about it, and suggested she try an instrument instead, remember?” I pulled Lisa into a gentle hug, then continued, “Our daughter is a lovely little girl, whom animals love and all that, but in this world of Disney… she can’t be a Protagonist. She can’t sing worth a damn. So relax, nothing’s going to happen to us, ok?”
Lisa visably relaxed. “You… you’re right. God, I’d forgotten about that. Oh, Harold, I’m sorry, I was just so scared…”
“It’s ok…” I blinked. “What… what’s that noise?”
Lisa and I turned and looked over at Sally.
The frog was beatboxing.
I looked at Lisa, and she at me. “… Shit.”
| 2018-11-28T10:57:13 | 2018-11-28T10:47:07 | 219 | 71 |
[WP] you are an unremarkable person but with a great secret. years ago you were summoned to another world. now you have a family. one morning, you stare in shock and confusion at the tv as it shows the discovery of some ancient underground structure. it's your hideout from the other world.
|
"Dad, you're allowed to unpause that."
I stared at the tv, frozen for a moment, before obliging and rewinding.
'Preliminary research tells us this could be five thousand years old, at least!"
I could see the little details of the castle as the news reporter tromp through it. The little carvings of elephants that delighted my 12-year-old self. The rows of armor that once sprang to life when I orchestrated the defenses of the castle.
I'd never stopped to wonder why it had fallen to a child to defend them. I'd really never considered it until now.
'Most unsettling is the evidence that perhaps other people have been here since, despite the packed down dirt. We've found evidence of clothing and even technology that should not have existed at this time!'
The camera pans to the discarded clothing I'd worn upon stumbling into a land I only knew as The Other World. My old jeans, a now *very* faded yankees t-shirt. And then my walkman, which had lasted a few hours into the world and then another six months powered by magic.
Because the world had had magic! It had held dragons and giants and merpeople! It couldn't have been just Earth from the past, unless Earth to had held all that once. And if it did, where did it all go.
"Daddy can we go back to baseball?"
I turn around, almost forgetting my two daughters were still there. Jemma, 13, has her arms crossed in that level of sassy only middle schoolers can manage. The littler one, Theresa, is staring at me with baleful, judgemental eyes.
"Right." I hit the remote button to jump back to where the yanks are being destroyed by the blue jays, of all teams, and then remove myself to my bedroom.
I had to know. I had to know where they'd all gone. If this truly was just my old fantasy land but five thousand years later, I had to know what had changed.
It's time to visit The Other World.
My planestone sits in my hand, warm to the touch despite years of disuse. If I recall correctly, time slows on Earth when in The Other World but that doesn't mean I want to just frolic there for years. Besides, if something happens to me, I'll never see my wife or daughters again.
Just a short trip, nothing more.
I close my eyes and start to mutter the incantation I thought were long lost to me. They flow from my mouth like a river that was just waiting to be unleashed, and soon I can feel the portal magic whirling around the room.
"As my will, so take me there," I finish and open my eyes.
The swirling colors and flashing lights aren't what make my heart stop as the magic settles over the room, taking all inhabitants to The Other World.
No, what stops my heart are the faces of my two children, staring at me in the doorway.
"Daddy?" Theresa asked, looking around the room, eyes uncertain. "Jemma wants to skip the ads but I want to watch the filet o fish ad and she says-"
"Get out of the room!" I shout, but it's too late.
The magic falls. The world shifts before dissolving into color and finally into black.
After a moment or two, I blink my eyes open. I fumble around a bit, since I've arrived at midnight, as the stones are fated to do, but soon the moon illuminates the hill I'm on. The twinkling city of Havensport ahead of me.
And finally it illuminates the forms of my trembling daughters.
What have I done?
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/)
|
"Dad? Dad! You awake?"
Jim blinked at the shake to his arm and looked away from the television.
"Y-Yeah, of course. What's the matter?" Jim looked down over the unruly hair of his oldest son, now 10, into the piercing green eyes. Those eyes regarded him with a clear skepticism that went unvoiced.
"You said we were going to play kick-ball. Tommy and Billy are waiting. Will you come play?"
Jim offered a smile down to Jimothy Jr and reached out to ruffle his hair.
"Sure kid. Just give me five minutes to finish up the news and I will be out." He saw the pained look on his sons face and raised a hand. "Scouts promise."
Jimmy's face lit up and he raised a whoop, darting out the door. The screen door swung closed with a bang and Jim's eyes returned to the news brief. A camera shot from a helicopter showed a structure that looked intensely familiar to his eyes. He felt a gulf of memory and emotion open within himself at the sight and trembled at the implications.
It had been 15 years since he returned from the other world. Time had held still here at home, but he had spent a full decade in the other world. He had been one of the 7 Heroes of Legend, summoned from another world to save another as it teetered at the cusp of disaster. In his own world, Jim was an ordinary man with no innate power or ability beyond that granted to his by his own two hands. But in Kaethron, Jim had commanded the power of powers of creation as an agent of the gods. Kaethron legends had foretold that the travelers would arrive at a time of peril. Their actions, for good or evil, would guide the world to destruction, or through it to a new peace.
The Heroes of Legend had awoken in a strange temple that only revealed itself in the time of crisis. Jim had seen it from the air many times when he himself had taken flight through the skies of Kaethron. He had never expected to see the Temple of Calamity here on Earth. The time-lapse of the ice-caps melting almost made the temple appear to rise of it's own volition. Jim didn't know what exactly this meant for his world, though rising temperatures, spreading violence, and the specter of chaos whispered darkly at the back of his mind.
He remembered The Guide, back in Kaethron. He had known, at the time, that the man had a wife and children. The guide had left them behind to attend to the heroes and escort them through their challenges. Jim had always been caught up in the danger and challenge of the time. He hadn't spared a moment to think of The Guide, or his estranged family. Thinking back now though, Jim remembered the shadows in the man’s eyes when he warned of what could befall Kaethron. Had he, too, been a hero in a time of peril? Had he watched a world fall through lack of guidance when it could have been saved?
Would Jim have to abandon his own family in order to help safeguard the world?
"Dad! It's been an hour!"
Jim looked to the door where Jimmy stood, holding a soccer ball. He smiled and rose to his feet, walking to the door.
"It's been four minutes, young man. But I'm coming. I'm coming."
He wasn't watching the television screen when seven pillars of light shot down out of the sky into the temple or when the shockwave ballooned out in every direction. He didn't see the live news feed turn to static.
Read more at r/The_Tales_of_Jimothy
Edited for spacing
| 2020-09-01T10:44:16 | 2020-09-01T10:43:14 | 142 | 76 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The surgeon pulled his mask up.
"Whole team's here. Everyone ready?"
Eight masked figure around the table appeared competent and prepared. A tray of gleaming, sharp instruments lay at hand. But something was wrong. I was not ready, I was paralyzed.
"I need everyone at the top of their game, we're going to be in here at least 10 hours, even if everything goes well. Nurse, scalpel…"
I could not move a muscle.
"Nurse! Scalpel, please!"
The nurse handed the gleaming blade to the surgeon.
No, please. I'm still awake.
|
In 1984, an oil painting was recovered from an abandoned house somewhere in Lousiana. Mahagony frame, weathered and neglected. No signature of the artist. Perhaps it was the work of the homeowner.
What was the painting of?
The upper torso of a brunette, eyes tightly closed, mouth hideously wide open, the background colored a pleasant cerulean.
It was later brought to a pawn shop, where it hung on a wall. Days later, the owner of the shop was reported missing.
The investigation came up with nothing. The trail had gone cold.
They should've looked at the painting.
| 2015-06-09T07:38:48 | 2015-06-09T07:11:34 | 316 | 69 |
[WP] In an alternate timeline, dinosaurs in the Eastern hemisphere are wiped out by the cataclysm, but those in the Americas survive the fallout. Millions of years later, a crew of European explorers land on the shore of the New World...
My first idea for a writing prompt, please have fun with it! :)
edit: These stories are awesome!! Thanks everyone! :D
|
The lone survivor shipwrecked on the shore of Ireland miraculously. He was fevered and scurvied, his clothes were caked in dried blood. When doctor tended the wounds and sickness he just shook his head and said: "I doubt the bloke will last more than a few days." And the he sat up and started screaming and ranting about giant lizards with swords for teeth.
Inspecting the ship the men of the village found the captains log, and learned the name of the ship too: The Pinta. In the log, they found the insane ravings of one Christopher Columbus, apparently he too had suffered some horrible fate, his last entry was splattered in blood, the only thing legible was "so much gold... so many terrible beasts..." Pages after that were the scrawlings of the survivor, barely legible.
"We didn't stand a chance, the beast rose from the water, a neck as long as the ship, it sunk the Nina in one blow, the Santa Maria was washed a shore, only the Pinta was able to land safely!"
"We've been here for days now, these tiny lizards the size of dogs hunt in packs..."
"The captain, Mr. Columbus won't leave the ship anymore. He keeps complaining about the monsters guarding the village with the gold. I think he finally went mad. "
"The ten of us, all thats left, set off from this acursed shore, praying that the sea serpent wouldn't attack. Some how we made it..."
"I ate the first mate, then the priest, Ol' Chris was too rotten to eat... hehehe..."
"Mind mi nd has s s sailed with th the rest of this blighted crew"
And that was the end of this poor man's tale. He died the next day and gave him his last rites, then we buried his body. The fishermen said we should destroy the ship because it was diseased and cursed, so we set it on fire and pushed it out to sea, what was left of it anyway.
We never did figure out what they were after, or where this land of monsters is. The old folks say it was Avalon, I say it sounds more like hell.
|
"What do you mean, domesticated people?" he asked again. Hernando looked back at the captain and said it once more, his voice cracking just as it had earlier. "Domesticated people."
"You mean slaves. You mean the fields you saw were full of slaves." Cristobol said this quit authoritatively. His crew were always off with fantastical ideas after so long at sea, and ignoring the things they needed to find here, the gold and the spices. Where were those?
"You don't understand. A - a thing came out. Juan tried to talk to the people - they can't speak. Just utterances. The thing - it took him. We followed." He stopped. It took two sips of the Captain's whisky for him to continue. "Butchered. A hall of butchered people. Those things, everywhere."
The story grew more bizarre, but it was the same one the last four remaining members of the scouting party had recounted to him. A field of people who did the work that horses should do. But no horses in this land. Just people. And apparently what they kept calling the "things." Large, green walking lizards. Wherever this was, it was a part of India he'd never heard of. And whatever they were, they were butchering people and had one of his party.
"Under this flag and with the protection of the Lord, we will claim this land for the Crown" he said, walking ahead of his men and leading them in to a fight with these demons, he had decided they were. The Lord would protect his men. The Lord had ensured his men had guns and bullets, and the technology level of these demons seemed centuries behind. They looked to have grown fat and lazy with a race of slaves doing all of their work.
The battle did not last long. The walking lizards had little more than spears and weren't expecting a real fight from humans. They were killed quickly, but unfortunately Cristobol's captured party had already been butchered. But they realized this land could be easily conquered, and more importantly, that walking lizards tasted delicious.
| 2015-11-07T18:45:07 | 2015-11-07T16:35:21 | 35 | 14 |
[WP] “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do Mr Bond. I’m going to stick you in a spacesuit with a radio, and strap you into one of my cars. Then, while mankind watches, I’ll launch you into space. The last thing you’ll hear before leaving this earth forever, will be their applause.”
|
Bond heard the rockets ignite. Strapped into the car, the G-force drove him backwards into the seat, sending his cheeks tearing into his face. His lungs compressed, then almost collapsed, as his entire being shook.
All the while, he thought he could hear Musk's evil laugh.
He would not go out like this.
****
The rockets plunged into space. At his current trajectory, he would forever be stuck in orbit, his corpse withering away in isolation - the perfect crime. Musk would have won, and no one on earth would know that their savior was in fact their doom. Musk had revealed his plans for humanity in true villain fashion - even he could not resist a monologue.
Bond knew how helpless his situation was. There were no parachutes, no way to cancel the payload detachment. Though Bond had survived countless missions before, he knew that this was his end.
But he planned to go out in style.
He eventually managed to pry his right arm loose from the straps. With that, he switched on the car, accessing the GPS system.
He knew there was no way of landing safely back on earth... he could only crash. But he could crash with *purpose*.
Musk had let his hubris get the better of him, Bond thought, as he hacked into the GPS system with a small, metallic object - a deceptively simple device, but then again, Musk was a man of simple efficiency. He used the same GPS system on the car as the rockets itself, and it was a simple task of linking the two operating systems together.
He typed in his destination, pressed 'confirm', and felt the rockets shudder. They used the last of their fuel to divert their course back to earth, then detached themselves soundlessly.
Bond kept on telling himself it was for the good of the world. That this was a selfless act.
But deep down, he tasted revenge.
As he entered the atmosphere, the car burning up, he stared at the blinking GPS system. His destination was nearing, ever so quickly.
As he felt his suit set alight, as a magnificent house came into view, he could only hope that Musk was home.
****
[CroatianSpy](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
|
James Bond had pried a little too far, gathering enemies powerful, and not so powerful. This one, is a powerful enemy. Bond sat in the car as he listened to the radio. "Launching in sixty seconds." Bond sprang into action. He slipped one of the boots in the suit off his foot with a good shake, revealing the knife hidden within. He grabbed the knife with his toes, dexterously spun it around and cut away at the straps on his legs. Now that his legs were free, he kicked out the windshield in front of him with his fully booted foot. The glass showered around Bond, and a large shard fell conveniently next to his right hand. He grabbed it with his fingers, and began cutting at the bonds around his hands. With a hefty snap, Bond was free of the straps. "Thirty seconds until launch."
Bond opened the car'a driver door, and nearly fell onto the floor of the rocket. He jumped down to the floor, knife in hand. He then began probing for an exit. He did this so long he began to hear the launch countdown. "T-10. 9. 8.-" he found a latch. He opened it, quickly unscrewing bolts keeping the patch in place. Inside the latch were electronic controls, labeled 'Rocket Override Controls' Bond quickly mashed the stop button. "3. 2. 1. Liftoff." The rocket began to lurch upwards. Applause filled Bonds space helmet. "Did you really think I would make it so easy to stop the rocket, Mr. Bond?" *Click*. The radio was silent. Bond tore open the false controls in anger, revealing wires upon wires. He slashed the wires open, stopping any electricity from going through.
"Wait, why did the camera feed go dark?" Elon Musk exclaimed quickly. A man burst into the room. "We've lost control of the rocket." Elon blinked, and then went outside. The rocket was high in the air, but also leaning hard. When it seemed to be going sideways, Elon saw a dark parachute open in the bright sky. "He escaped, but how?" Elon asked.
| 2018-02-06T20:25:30 | 2018-02-06T20:23:40 | 614 | 26 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans.
|
**Changes**
* Removed appendix
* Removed wisdom teeth
* Fixed a bug that caused infants to die for no reason
* Patched a bug that caused certain people to lose hair prematurely
* Body now handles excess calories better.
* Improvement of smell. Now should be on par with dogs
* Patched the bug that caused blurry vision in certain people
* Height limit increased
* Fixed a weird bug that made certain people attracted to young children. May need to reset preferences for this change to take place.
* Bodies will now "rag doll" instead of locking up when in a crash or similar event.
* Nipples no longer get irritated while running or in cold conditions
* Removed bug where women would grow facial hair
* Increased male pleasure from sexual intercourse. Should now be even with women.
* Increased flexibility of hip bones in women to allow birthing to be easier.
* Increased chance of rare eye color unlocks.
* Removed ghosts.
|
Humans 2.0.1 - Stable Release
* Fixed occasional death caused by female pelvis/baby head ratio.
* Refactored DNA, removed "junk" left over from previous versions, roughly 1.5bn lines
* Merged a feature request getting rid of "alcohol poisoning"
* Reduced hormonal shifts during shedding of uterus lining, reducing unexpected behavior
* The question "Why?" now removed from people less than 5 years of age
* Trachea and esophagus now separated to stop choking
Known Issues
* Occasional appendix ruptures still reported, slated to be fixed in 2.1.0 after we're sure nothing depends on it
* Certain pollens still cause excessive irritability
| 2015-08-25T08:40:17 | 2015-08-25T08:27:50 | 292 | 47 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate.
|
"Judgement!"
The voices of the villagers rose behind me. They sounded demented, their cries tinged with bloodlust. I shivered as I stepped through the trees. The light of the torches vanished behind me, and their cries softened.
Dread filled me as I stepped along the dirt path. I was sure that my actions were just. But each step caused that conviction to waver. Maybe I could've gotten away from him without killing. Could I not have restrained him and gotten help?
A twig snapped behind me. I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. It was only then I noticed how silent it was. Another snap sounded from my side, followed by another to the other. My eyes darted between each. My breath came in short bursts. I could feel my heart thunder in my chest.
The hairs on my neck rose. I could tell something was watching me. I desperately wanted to run, but found I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot. All I could do was turn, to see what was there. To try and find the Beast of Justice.
I felt something touch my hair. I tried to swat it away, bit it stuck to my hand. I waved it about before looking. It was a thick strand of web. I gagged, trying to pull it off. All I succeeded in doing was getting both hands caught in it.
It pulled taut, yanking my hands up over my head. I felt myself lift slightly off the ground, and began to panic even more. As I started to tear up, I heard a light thud behind me. I froze, before spinning.
An enormous spider stood there, eyeing me up. It's cold black gaze seemed to peer through to my very core. I knew instinctively that this was the Beast of Justice. It crawled towards me, placing its two pedipalps on my shoulders. It's voice drifted out, a faint whisper.
"Hmmmm. More prey? Or not prey? What is this?"
Before I could speak, its chelicerae touched my face. I felt its mind brush through mine. It hovered about the incident. The man breaking in, trying to force me into submission so he could rob me. Me fighting back. The knife. It sinking into his chest. The blood. The gurgle. That horrid gurgle.
I wanted to scream. But before I could, it withdrew. The memory faded. I gasped, feeling tears run down my face. It wiped my face, before stepping back.
"Not prey. No delicious darkness."
It came towards me again, this time lifting up further. I heard a chewing sound, before my hands dropped free. I stared at the Beast, and it waved a leg.
"Go not prey."
It leaped away, into the shadows. My hands still stuck together, I staggered back along the path. I sobbed as I left, both in relief and terror. The Beast had judged me, and saw my innocence. But the touch of its mind would be something I would never forget.
|
Dekker didn't believe in trial by combat. What an absurd concept! But that hadn't stopped him cheering for blood on the grove's edge, while the condemned faced off against the terrible Spork. Noone knew exactly what Spork was, they just accepted that he was a monster that feasted upon guilty flesh. Some of Spork's verdicts had been questionable. How Ziko the rapist had convinced Spork he was innocent was anyone's guess.
Now it was Dekker's turn to be judged. The path to the grove was lined with chanting villagers.
'SPORK! SPORK! SPORK! SPORK!'
*Not the most original chant,* Dekker thought. As he neared the grove, half the villagers started cheering for blood. He strained his ear, hoping that at least some were cheering for his innocence, or at the least, cheering for Justice. It was like they wanted him to be guilty. And it was pretty obvious he was not guilty.
Finally he stood alone in the grove with Spork walking up to him. It was like a giant chicken, twice the height of any man. A vicious hooked beak that looked like it could shatter stone. Talons like swords scraping through the dirt, unearthing old forgotten skeletons. Spork now stood before him, looking at him, judging him? Dekker was innocent. Or at least he was pretty sure he was innocent. He had provoked the young prince, sure, but they were just taunts. The prince had drawn his wand first which was clearly an actionable offence. Right? Maybe he shouldn't have murdered the Prince. He could admit that much. But guilty of murder? The more Dekker thought about the more he questioned his own innocence.
'So how does this work?' he said to Spork.
'How does what work?' Spork said.
'How do you decide if i'm guilty or innocent?'
'What?'
...
'You are supposed to judge my innocence,' Dekker said.
'How the fuck would I know if you're innocent? I don't even know you.'
'Then what do you usually do when the condemned are set before you?'
'I dunno, whatever I feel like. If i'm hungry, I eat.'
'This is bullshit.'
'Well are you innocent.'
'Of course I am,' Dekker said. It wasn't a complete lie. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.
'I'm not convinced, and i'm feeling kinda hungry.'
Dekker backed away from the oversized death chicken. It seemed to no longer have an appetite for conversation and walked towards him with death in its eyes. Dekker sighed. He supposed this was fair; upon reflection he realized he definitely *was* guilty. But the thing that irked him was this stupid chicken didn't know that. Did it?
The crowd cheered as Spork fluttered its wings, flying *through* the condemned, passing its verdict with its sword like talons and raining its judgement down with a shower of blood and guts.
| 2021-03-16T11:59:31 | 2021-03-16T09:08:27 | 283 | 105 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned.
|
"Naturally, it's your genetics and evolutionary upbringing that lead to such [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: sanity curdling bloodlust that all sentient lifeforms would cringe away from in existential horror] among your people." The device doing the translating, a slim piece of floating aluminium foil, by the looks of it, certainly took its time cross-referencing that particular idiomatic expression. But perhaps...
Thinking carefully, I slowly pronounced each word, striving for the formal language it seemed to understand best. "Mighty-Kelp-Organ-464, might I possibly help improve your translating device?"
A small hologram flipped up, revealing a " :) ", an extremely useful feature, as the Rylonian equivalent was scent based. I could definitely detect it. I could almost taste it. But I still hadn't quite got the nuances of their expression down. Was it slightly more 'wet dog', this time? Or maybe my olfactory cilia were committing hari-kari one by one to defend my psyche from the assault.
I digress. It's been a long 48 hours.
"Perhaps 'The Human Condition' might be an appropriate substitution."
"Thank you Meat-Friend. Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 will be pleased to accept such an contribution. Please accept a gift of another of your metric units of P79 N118."
Hey, it wasn't all bad. The smells, the lack of sleep, the ceaseless barrage of noise and light that the almost blind and deaf Rylonians require to comprehend their tele-screens, sure, not pleasant, but it's much easier to say 'this too shall pass' when small blocks of extremely heavy metal keep materialising at my feet.
"As I was saying, I in no way disparage your right as an individual to sentience-recognition by the Sector Administration, far from it. You've proven to be extremely [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Relaxed/peaceful/not murderous] throughout your stay. It is simply that," Mighty-Kelp shifted slightly, and I pretended not to notice the forcefields flickering. "Well, as a species you seem remarkably insane. Forecasts give your species another two hundred and fifty seven years before homo sapiens goes extinct in the wild."
I blinked at that.
"Hence, no committee would ever declare your kind, in your current state, a suitable candidate for recognition. Therefore..."
"You want me to murder one of your colleagues?"
Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 flapped around at that. The translation device slide smoothly out of the way, evidently used to the flailing. Lumpy tentacles smeared with some sort of jelly flollopped and glollopped around, spattering fluids. After about a minute of this, it seemed to calm down. I couldn't smell anything though. I think my nose has actually shut down.
Oh well. Probably for the best. Rylionian cussing could probably kill a man at a dozen paces.
"I repeat, Meat Friend, That this would *not* be murder. Murder is a premeditated act by a sentient creature on another. This would be an accident, a terrible, terrible, highly specific accident. I grieve pre-emptively for Mighty-Kelp-Organ.12, but my [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Promotion/breeding rights/spiritual status] has already been trampled on for long enough."
"And afterwards?"
"Well, while the lawyers hash it out, you'll need to stay in a secure facility planetside. No doubt about it though, as a known invasive species, they will return you to your natural habitat with not a hair out of place."
"Well... I really don't know. If your legal system is anything like Earth's, I could be stuck out here for years."
"We have the technology to fabricate [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: Blackjack and hookers.]"
"Deal."
|
Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim.
| 2017-05-12T07:53:52 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 122 | 61 |
[WP]: "But the most curious thing is that humans don't have a mating season. They just act really weird all year round."
|
The room broke out in whispers as the Professor showed his class a video of human life. It contained moments captured from a whole year on the planet. Humans walking hand in hand. Humans hugging, kissing, mating. Simply spending time together, for no good apparent reason.
On the side of the screen were more monitors, showing flashes of different human brains at all times. In most of them, certain sections kept lighting up. Sections proven to be connected to sexual attraction.
"So, that's what they think about? All the time?" one student asked, frowning as she took meticulous notes.
"That's right," the Professor said. "And what does that tell us about them? Remember, this will be in the exam..."
"That is the reason why their version of Earth is floundering in the multiverse," a young man sitting in the front row answered. "And why ours is vastly superior - because we only mate once a year. I mean, how can you accomplish anything if you have to dedicate a significant amount of brain power to sex and this thing they call romance? It makes no sense. Ruled by emotions and hormones, no wonder their planet is such a mess."
There was an outbreak of sniggering and applause.
"Well done, Jamie," Professor Hudson said. "Yes, indeed, on Alternate Earth, they don't even *know* they're merely one of several versions of their world. They can't travel between dimensions on their own. Their scientific progress has only recently gained some momentum. If we want to study them, we have to go get them."
He turned to write their homework on the board: a philosophical essay, reflecting on the consequences of year-round mating on a society.
"Now, who can tell me which famous Alternate Earth couple will be used as an example in the test? Anyone? I mentioned it last week..." he asked, glancing around the class.
"Hannah and Alan Burns. A young couple brought here from Alternate Earth thirty years ago to study what they call 'love'," Jamie answered promptly again.
Professor Hudson turned his back to the class to write more questions on the board. No-one noticed his hand shaking as he asked another question.
"Yes. And what happened, in the end?"
The students glanced at one another, some rolling their eyes. What was with the Professor today, asking stupid questions about a case no-one cared about anymore? It wasn't relevant in any way. He was an odd guy, sometimes.
"Well, she was killed," another student, Kelly Masters, said impatiently. "To see the effect of her death on her partner. Alan Burns later escaped while we were studying him, and presumably died in the desert. A failed experiment, most agreed."
Professor Hudson packed his bag as he answered her. "So some would argue. Study the case and remember what we discussed, class. You're dismissed."
He blinked the tears from his eyes as the class poured out the doors, avoiding those who hastened forward to ask questions about the test. He had to get out of here before he lost it.
Dead. Even the children of the ones who did this to him still thought he was dead. They didn't even know what he looked like. They didn't recognise him, standing right there in front of them, pretending to be their teacher. And didn't show an ounce more remorse than their parents did.
He knew everything about them after twenty years of circling the edges of their society, and ten more infiltrating it. How they functioned. What made them tick.
What could kill them.
They'd all forgotten about Hannah. Forgotten the sound of her screams as they tortured her, to see him fight futilely to reach her. The way her once brilliant green eyes dimmed to a fixed, glassy stare as she died - while they made notes on his reactions.
But he hadn't. And he'd sure as hell make them remember, before it was over.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
|
"That's ridiculous. Are you saying that they are ready to reproduce at any moment?"
"Yes, assuming the couple in question are reproductively healthy and of age."
"Oh right. *Couple*. I always forget that human mating is between only two individuals...that was weird enough. BUt now you're telling me that their reproductive drive is never off."
"That's right. I was shocked to learn it, too. Though there must've been something wrong with the translation."
"How do they get anything done, *ever*?"
"Well, that part is even more interesting, in my opinion. Believe it or not, they (usually) have full control over their reproductive urges. As in, if one sees another that seems reproductively fit, the former can *choose* not to engage in courting."
"Huh. But what if the the latter desires mating?"
"Generally speaking, there must be consensus between the two individuals for the mating to occur. Granted, forced mating is not uncommon."
"I should imagine so! It must be terribly difficult to suppress that drive. Heaven knows I could not, were I in heat."
"That's the thing, they're never really in heat - or perhaps, they always are. It is a strange concept to wrap my mind around, to be sure."
"And what happens, if a forced mating occurs?"
"Legal prosecution for the *rapist* - that is their word for someone who forces themselves upon an unwilling party."
"What a strange, *alien* concept - punishment for acting upon irresistible, biological urges!"
"Well, that's the thing, isn't it? For us, it is literally impossible to resist, when we are in full-bloom mating season. For them, they can actually choose, regardless of how strong their desire to initiate a coupling. And so forceful mating is actually a violation of their will - it is a crime."
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense. I must say, this aspect of their biology may have some advantages. After all, they won't lose entire weeks to a hazy, exhausting mating season that they barely remember afterward."
"True. But some of our xeno-sociologists believe that due to the constitutive presence of a reproductive drive and instances of forced mating and other similarly unwanted behavior, there is a great taboo on discussing such topics in their society. Especially with children."
"Children?"
"Their young, their progeny; generally speaking, they are severely limited from discussions and/or media of a sexual nature, until they are nearly adults."
"That is preposterous. No doubt their progeny come into contact with matters of this nature on their own, and form their own, dangerous ideas - that they cannot even discuss with the adult beings in their society!"
"The level of restriction differs from one family unit to the next, one society to the next - but yes, in general I agree."
"Ah, I've just received a memo - Doctors Majewski and Cohen are awaiting us in the conference room. We had a meeting scheduled with them today."
"Right, the human biochemists. Shall we greet them?"
"Yes, let us go. Though, hm..."
"Something on your mind?"
"One is a female and one is a male."
"Yes."
"I wonder if they are attracted to each other and are just desperately suppressing the desire to copulate every time they see one another."
"I recommend you do not ask them. As I've mentioned, such topics are rather taboo..."
"But they are scientists! Biologists!"
"Yes, but it still may cause them embarrassment."
"Ah, another human emotion I fear I still have no understanding of."
"Neither do I. Enough, let's not keep them waiting."
"Perhaps they have not even noticed our delay; after all, they may be *busy* with each other."
_______________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!*
| 2016-10-01T12:39:21 | 2016-10-01T12:02:07 | 702 | 203 |
[WP] Write a superhero whose superpower only makes sense after you read the story twice.
|
I stood in the doorway of the hall leading to the stairs and pushed in that special way with my mind.
"HEY, YOU!" the leader of the robbers shouted, "I said *everybody* on the floor. Now get down or be PUT down!" Then I stopped pushing and he simply looked confused. "What the hell?"
"Where'd he go?" one of his cohorts asked.
The leader, his rage at me thwarted, turned instead on his companion. "Find out, why don't ya? I don't want any Die Hards trying to pull a hero routine. Get him, bring him in here. NOW." The guy he shouted at peeled off, leaving only the leader and two other goons.
When he was out of their line of sight, I clobbered him from behind with a ledger book from the manager's desk and shoved him into a closet and locked it. One down. But that still left three guys with guns, and a room full of hostages. I couldn't clobber them all at once, and doing it one at a time would give them time to catch on. Someone could get hurt.
I walked over to where the teller had just handed goon #2 the bag filled with money. This time, I didn't push. Instead I just took a thick wad of money from the bag and stuck it instead on the guy's pocket, making sure it was ill concealed. As expected, his buddy ratted him out, drawing their leader's attention. The gang's leader, seeing the green his number two was hiding, drew the assumption I'd hoped he would and got in a screaming match for a few seconds before shooting him. Two down.
I stood by the rail and pushed again with my mind. The last goon looked past his boss and saw me. "Hey, isn't that the guy...?" But I had already let go again, so by the time the leader looked, I wasn't there to him.
I walked over to the doors, leaned casually against them and pushed once more. This time, the leader saw me. "You?! What the hell?" He turned toward the hall, and shouted for someone named Vince (presumably the guy now locked in the closet). In just the second it took him to look that way, I stopped pushing and he turned to find me gone again.
Now he was getting angry, and angry guys make mistakes. I pushed three more times, dashing quickly to stand in different parts of the room each time. And each time, he spun around to see me, getting madder when I let go, only to push again from somewhere else. Once he and his last remaining goon started shooting, I knew I had what I wanted, and started being very careful to only appear in parts of the room where there were no hostages. One after another they fired shots at phantoms that were clearly starting to piss them off.
Right about then, the cops got there. They must have heard the shooting and figured it was a now-or-never situation, so they burst into the place, and very handily, the last standing robbers were out of bullets. They desperately tried to load new clips, but they were tackled rather brutally before they could manage it.
I sat down, feeling winded. Not only had I been dancing around rather much, but the mental push was taking more energy all the time. It was actually starting to feel equivalent to a physical activity now. No one noticed me, of course, so I was allowed to get my breath back in peace. Later, I got up and walked out. There was no point in offering a statement. The way I was feeling, I'd never manage to stay visible long enough to answer their questions anyway.
You know, when that lab accident made me invisible, I was actually stupid enough to think *that* was my superpower. But after I realized I could only switch it off momentarily by concentrating a certain way, then I realized my *real* power was becoming visible. Sure, you could have *fun* with invisibility, but sometimes, you just had to interact with people. And on days like today, I worried how much longer I would have what had started to become my most cherished ability.
|
I stretched to warm myself up. I was getting old, a little tighter and a little less elastic than the days of my youth. Too many beatings, too many kicks to the head and brawls in darkened alleys. One of these days, I told myself, you’re going to have to give it up. I tried to steer my thoughts away from the negative, ignored the throbbing pain in my wrist from my leap down the fire escape last week, and the aching orbit of my eye from when that thug whacked me across the face with his twelve gauge. I tried to go zen. I concentrated on stretching.
I met my connection at precinct 17. A good kid. He left a folder of files out on the window sill and I snagged them. Files with possible or definite leads that the coppers couldn’t do a thing about. Restrained by the law. Unlike me. They would throw my sorry ass in jail if they caught me for half the stuff I did, even after all the loose ends I tied up for them, all the scum I washed away, and that’s why I never got caught. I was like a dog, unbound by the rules of society, but they would put me down the moment I lost my usefulness, the moment I went soft.
I found a quiet rooftop and shuffled through the files. Increasing drug activity in the neighborhoods near the wharf. Some bad dope going around. More than a few overdoses. I knew a few heads I could stave in, a few people I could dangle from a high place until the squealed and coughed up the answers.
It was near three in the morning, but this section of town operated in its own personal time zone. It might as well have been high noon here. People played music or what passed for music from half the houses. I was always more of a jazz guy myself. The occasional squad of young trouble makers prowling the streets, their cockiness bolstered by booze, waiting for anything to happen. It was rare that a night passed without the sound of at least a few gunshots echoing in the distance. I kept to the rooftops. I had spent the last week busting heads and gathering intel, and as from what I gleaned there were a few crack dens at the far end of Bleeker street. I made my way there, avoiding the glow of neon and the faded light of streetlamps.
I found who I was looking for.
He went by the name of Phillip. His specialty was acquiring exotic goods for people with the dough, people who were vetted. You could buy a handgun with the serial number filed off on any street corner, but if you wanted a rocket launcher or a mini-gun or anti-gravity boots, Phillip was the guy. Phillip knew everyone and everyone knew Phillip. He was also part owner in a bar down the street from the crack den. He kept an eye on things from there, and his associates pointed people with a taste for powder, or people looking of a night time companion, in the right direction.
I reached the bar and squatted on the roof, contemplating my next move. I pressed my ear to the back window, where Phillip would most likely hold court. I heard muttering voices, too vague to discern. I waited on the roof, banged on the back door, and waited. The voices stopped and uttered a few curse words. The door opened and two men with guns stepped out.
A grabbed them both by the back of the head and smacked them into the wall and then hurled the rest of my body through the open door. I was right. Phillip was sitting with his legs kicked up on a desk, watching a small television in the corner. I went for the AK against the wall but I shot my leg out and stamped on his hand. He cursed and I head butted him. Another one of his associates ran to the bar for help but I shot out my other leg and tripped him. I grabbed Phillip, hauled him out into the street and we disappeared into the night. It was time to answer some questions.
This was probably way too obvious, but he's a super stretchy elastic guy. Like Mr. Fantastic.
| 2014-12-07T10:32:00 | 2014-12-07T09:39:16 | 126 | 16 |
[WP] "So you're immortal?" "Yes." "But you wear armor." "It gets tiring pulling out everything that gets shot and stabbed into me."
|
"But does it hurt when you get shot?"
"Kinda, but I'm very used to it by now. People have been trying to kill me for thousands of years after all, in some ways it can almost be refreshing sometimes, like having a cold shower."
"So then is it really that big a big deal? Surely it won't take long for the armour to break anyway? The inquisitors try to kill you a lot so you must get through so many sets."
"That's like saying you shouldn't use bug spray because there will always be insects out to bite you and it isn't all that bad when you're stung. It does get annoying you know. I also have enough armour to last at least a hundred years unless they start upgrading their crossbows and muskets, I went through a blacksmithing phase a while back and made spares. If that wasn't enough then I have more money than the king to use on defenses; Compound interest really is one of my favourite human inventions, and I've seen many."
"I've never thought about those points in that way before."
"Nobody ever does. You start seeing things differently when you live as long as I do."
"Anyway... do you mind if I give you a quick stab through the heart? I've been dying to test out my new dagger since the guy who sold it to me called it the world's sharpest."
"..."
"Go on then."
|
"That can't be the real reason."
"I do not seem to age. I get 'killed' I get snapped back to the same physical form I was when I gained my powers. But I am not impervious."
"Ahuh."
"Look have you ever cut yourself?"
"Yeah."
"You do try and avoid it right? Me I have had my neck snapped. Shot multiple times. I have had my spine ripped out so my head came off. I can tell you how the pain of having a sledgehammer smash your skull in from the forehead. Is different from the same hammer caving in the top of your head. Yes I have been run through, poisoned, crushed in a press. I can tell you how being burned alive is different from being dissolved in acid."
"Oh my God."
"Yep I remember each burst of pain before popping back. Oh and the acid vat? I can't count how many times I died to that. Basically it kept going, I popped back to me. It kept going till the acid was neutral enough for me to crawl out of the tank."
"I may be sick."
"So there might be a teeny tiny reason I prefer to wear armour and avoid situations I should get killed as much as if not more than the next person."
| 2021-11-23T08:50:56 | 2021-11-23T08:50:32 | 66 | 24 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand.
|
Professor Henzal was taken aback. "Yes, Eduard?"
"Professor, I have to take issue with your characterization."
"Oh, how so?"
"Once again, you're romanticizing my species. But I get it. We did... we used to do it too. That was before we ended up being conquered and largely wiped out ourselves. We weren't terrible in every regard, but we could be fairly brutal. Only after we nearly annihilated an indi... a less advanced civilization would we come to appreciate its scant survivors -- at least some people did."
The professor paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Eduard, I understand what you're trying to do. But just to be clear, it's not me saying that humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in the galaxy. That's the consensus opinion of the Galactic Academy of Anthropological Studies. Within the context and level of development of humanity, it's understanda..."
Eduard interrupted.
"The Academy is just wrong. See, we're not a whole lot different to you or to anyone else in this classroom. Granted, your species has a lot to answer for too."
An audible gasp could be heard from the other students. "Professor, could we move on? The human is getting on my nerves," said Penzet, a student who, like half the classroom, was from Arcapia, the planet where the expedition that discovered Earth 160 years ago originated.
Eduard abruptly got up from his chair and pointed his finger at Penzet. "Like I've told you before, my name is Eduard, you arrogant and racist ass."
Penzet turned toward professor Henzal. "Professor, maybe he's right. They are not so peaceful."
|
"Yes?" the professor asked.
"What about *them*?"
The professor looked at me, puzzled. "You seem to be gesturing to the rest of the class."
"I mean, I am. Gesturing to the rest of the class. They look just like me. If we had sex -- I mean, if they hadn't been given the treatment -- we could have children."
A brief moment of horror crossed the professor's face. Or maybe it was disgust. It finally settled back into his 'teachable moment' face. "These are not human."
"If they aren't human, what are they?" The rest of the class shifted, clearly uncomfortable with my line of questioning.
"They are the Lesser, of course!"
My anger started to thrum in my veins. I took a deep breath to recenter myself. "What makes them Lesser? They're just as human as I am."
The professor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he put them back on, he asked, "What makes you so certain of that? Have you talked with any of them?"
"Well, n-no," I stammered. "I mean, not really. Not at any length."
The professor's face had shifted to one of alarm. "But you have," he hissed. "You talked to *them*. You've found out who they are, what they secretly want." His glare bored into me. "You think they're not Lesser." I watched, silently, as he reached under his desk.
When the two goons from the Republican Peace Enforcers came, I fought as they dragged me away.
| 2021-11-27T13:02:16 | 2021-11-27T11:23:52 | 61 | 16 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid.
|
I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys.
|
Sometimes I wish that I could actually die forever.
I've been "dead" a couple times and the first time coming back was a gift. The second time was disappointing because I was still alone. After that I didn't bother to clean up the mess and just started walking. I miss soo many people. I watched them one by one grow and wither to death as I was left seemingly untouched by time.
After I could no longer find one of the last of humanity, I just decided to accept that I was alone on Earth. I watched as the planet recovered what was made from it, the animals flourished, and the plants took back control. It was paradise in every direction I went. Food was there for the taking a feast for every meal. There is a 4ft descendant of a parrot is a fierce adversary but taste fantastic with a berry honey glaze.
Recently a new form of intelligent life has risen to civilization. They taste better and better every year. Almost as good as my hairy predecessor.
| 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T19:17:13 | 516 | 16 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible.
|
General Beck burst into the mess hall and swept his gaze across the startled soldiers. They had been drinking, celebrating the surrender of France, and the apparent end of the war. But they didn't know about the curse. Few but the inner circle did. Germany must fall.
The men quickly stood at attention, as well as they could half drunk. "Germany," Beck began, "Is no more. Or rather, soon to be no more." The looks of confusion deepened.
"The council has debated and spoken. This is now the Empire of Neo-Germania-except-for-Private-Klaus."
The looks aroubd the room made it clear who Private Klaus was.
"Klaus, the council decided every german citizen was to freely and automatically become a citizen of the EONGEFPK. Except, obviously, for you. Young man, I'm sorry, but you are the last German."
"But how can one man be a country?" Klaus asked.
"I didn't write the rules, I only subvert them" replied the general, drawing his pistol. With a sharp bang, all of the remaining German forces were wiped from the Earth, finally ending the war.
|
Click. Click. Snap!
“Vat vas zat Hans?” the general said.
Hans placed his head into his palms, bringing the screwdriver away from the screw. “I broke it.”
“Vat do you mean you broke it?” he looked into the war computer.
“Vell, vile I was tightening the screws on one of zee processors, zaa thread snapped, it’s stuck in zere now.” He lifted the screwdriver to show him the thread had been ripped.
“Don’t be silly Hans, vee vill not lose the var because of a silly screw breaking in za war computer.” He grabbed a set of pliers from Hans and tried grabbing the screw out, but the screw was too flat to grip.
“Mecha Hitler is going to kill us,” the general said.
“Ve’re screwed,” Hans said.
______________________________________
Inspired by this clip by one of my favourite Youtuber/Livestreamer.
https://clips.twitch.tv/PeppySassyLEDPoooound?tt_medium=clips_api&tt_content=url
| 2017-08-18T05:03:51 | 2017-08-17T22:40:39 | 1,294 | 343 |
[WP] In a spectacular "fuck you" to the world, Google and all of its branches (yes, even YouTube) shut down. Closed. For good. No warnings, no previous musings that it might happen. Tell me a story of how "day five" might be going.
|
Day 5: Google and YouTube have been down, and the whole world is starting to revert back to a primitive level. Arguments are being left unsettled, conversions are starting to get stale, I actually overheard a discussion on what the temperature might be,
'it feels like 22°"
"are you fucking nuts? It's clearly 25°plus humidity!"...
" What does humidity have to do with it? You're such a liar!"
"I just wanna watch a cat ride a Roomba"
Ahhhhh it's more than I can bare.
Luckily I have been preparing for this day for 20 odd years.
I bought stock in 'Ask Jeeves' back in '97 and it's about to pay off baby! Daddy's gonna be a rich bitch!
Finally, the 'one true search engine' can rise to the glory that it was formerly denied.
|
Tim Cook woke up in the morning like any other day. After showering, trimming his stubble, and dowsing himself in cologne, he felt energized and ready to pump money out of more consumers.
He smiled, sitting down at his desk in Apple Park and firing up his iMac Pro. Almost immediately he clicked to open a saved link that would search for the latest cat videos.
But there were no cat videos.
“...fuck,” Cook swore, standing bolt upright and flinging his space grey Magic Mouse across the room. “Goddammit Google, the ONE time I actually need you...”
Edit: Replaced "pumped" with "energized" to improve fluency.
^^This ^^is ^^my ^^first ^^attempt ^^at ^^writing ^^in ^^this ^^sub, ^^criticism ^^is ^^appreciated.
| 2017-06-16T18:27:33 | 2017-06-16T16:44:06 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
People don't work for a villain if they don't like him. I for one always made sure of that.
Holidays. You bet your arse you'll be getting them.
Childbirth. You can bet I'm gonna be that weird but cool uncle.
Having an off day. Pool party.
My company is my home. And my profession is to be a villain. Rank C. Code name Upsur.
It's fun seeing the upcoming heroes coming to my office arresting me. Thinking they finally put me down. But Legal Hero Act is a beautiful thing.
Just one simple lawsuit, I get released and compensation for the damage. Until yesterday.
Jay was supposed to be married this month. Mary wanted to surprise her parents so she wanted to leave early. Tanak's sons birthday is today. Oprius was the new intern.
All of them injured as the hero threw heymaker and threw me across the street.
Hero name, Zeus. A quite quite haughty one for a hero. He has a track record of insane collateral damage but always fights SS ranks. Not a mere C rank.
"Why?" I ask him as I dust off my clothes. His eyes showed a bit confusion.
"Why attack me?" I ask him looking directly in the eyes.
"Why not? I'm just a few villains short to make the list for most defeated villains. So I thought about cleaning the locals."
Zeus flew down. Come to think of it. I rarely saw him walking.
"You could have simply taken me to jail." I point that out.
To that Zeus gave a haughty laughter.
"Where's the fun in that?"
I smiled. He is right.
"Exactly. Where is the fun in that?"
No one knows why I am called the Upsur.
So when I threw Zeus across the city, I'm sure many would know why. But that's not the point.
"Are you having fun?"
I asked Zeus. His mangled face remained motionless.
The city was still intact. Apart for the damage he caused no further damage was done. Well except for his bones. I'm pretty sure I broke nearly all of them.
Oh well. Never could've figure what's so fun in fighting anyway.
|
Look I'm a man who can handle many things...
Being listed by the World Villian League as 'Ridiculously D-Teir' because i don't personally feel the need to do more than rob banks and steal tech from labs was fair.
Having the Wrecking Crew be my assigned "Nemeses" was a hard pill to swallow but i got over it. Hell, i got used to it.
Jungle Kid's cheesey lines and speeches as the "Team Leader" even though all he instructs them to do is just "Wrecking Crew Topple 'Em" was admirable for the children.
Cheese Man's gimmick was a good laugh to my henchmen so he was good to keep him around.
Playing to Atlan's strongside of having random water puddles made the fights fun with his creativity.
And Tim... I still don't know what Tim did.
But they were always the ones who would let me get my things run away and the foil my plans last second.
They weren't Watcher who would place a tracking device, or Millennium who would just hear my plans and escort me to jail. They were simply reactionary, not on pursuit.
So when the ignorant children find out that i had my little coffee shop on the corner of 5th, and didn't do any research to see that my staff were just average people looking for jobs. BARGED IN WHILE I WAS AWAY, DESTROY THE PLACE, PUT MY STAFF IN THE HOSPITAL! Then Doctor Tinker isn't going to play nice.
Doctor Tinker is going to drop the advantages, Drop the crappy junk machines that a can be dismantled by a thrown screwdriver. Goes to their doorstep, and pardon the corny line it's a habit i need to work on, Wreck the Wrecking Crew and have their nearly lifeless bodies flowing down the Hudson River.
There simply isn't a better feeling.
Now hopefully the next time some heroes try to do the whole song and dance they're old enough to know, Don't mess with the people *I* care for.
| 2022-11-29T08:53:21 | 2022-11-29T04:37:56 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] "Three wishes, you know the rules. let's get this over with, kid." "I wish for an indestructible journal" *snap* "done. Next?" "I wish for it to be bound to my being for all eternity." *snap* "And?" "I wish that any thing I write into it be made real." *snap* "THERE, NOW LEA- wait... what?"
|
“Hold on kid”
“I made my wish”
“SHUT UP I AM TRYING TO… GOT IT!” *snap*
“What was that?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Whatever weirdo, now I can… hey. What… why?”
“Indestructible journal kid. Nothing can compromise it’s integrity, including ink soaking in or lead pressing into it and making an impact or scraping from friction. A *pristine* indestructible journal. You’re welcome for the extra”
“This isn’t what I wanted you che-“
“DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU ARE THE FIRST CHILD!?!? I WISH FOR INFINITE WISHES, I WISH TO BE GOD, I WISH FOR A WISHING WELL THAT ALWAYS WORKS AND ONLY WORKS FOR ME. HUNDREDS OF MORTALS WHO THINK THEMSELVES CLEVER HAVE TRIED THESE THINGS. YOU EVER WONDER WHY THERE ISN’T ALREADY SOME GOD KING BRAT ON A WORLD WIDE THRONE?!?”
“N-no.”
“The three wishes thing? That’s the rules for you. We have rules too. And when some idiot tries what you just did, we are told to go full trickster on that shit. To warp your wish in whatever way will nullify the bullshit you just tried to pull on creation. We can’t stop you from making wishes for unlimited wishes, but we can sure as hell make sure you don’t actually get to do so. Literally have to, in fact. You are lucky I did this!”
“Lucky?!? I have a notebook I can’t get rid of and can’t even use as a regular notebook! How is this lucky?”
“Because I actually bother to think of a way to keep this light! My cousin got one like you and he’s not so nice. It was a book for him. And he *bound* that book inside that woman’s head. The wishing well guy? My sister pushed him into the well right after. My first thought? Bind it to you by turning you into the journal, an undying tome made of bone sinew and flesh. My second was to sew it into your body in a place you couldn’t reach it without killing yourself but I went with the option where you just have to drag that thing around instead of being in a fate worse than death or crippling pain for the rest of your miserable life. You’re. Welcome.
“Thannkkk you?”
“Get out.”
|
I was in my lamp like most days, when it finally began to shake. I burst out the dumb thing, but something felt off. Infrunt of me was what I think is a man. He had on a white comedy mask and a brown robe torn on all the edges. l could only see his hands and alittle above his ankles. All I could see of his hands and feet were covered heavily in grey bandages. Around us was just endless desert, nothing else in sight. I've seen some weird displays in my time but is alarming not because of the area I'm in. But I was sure that I was in the kingdoms roaly treasury.
"What are your wishs?" I ask
The figure spoke in a raspy and crazed voice.
"One wish, for a book and what ever I alone right in it becomes true."
"That's two but ok..."
I grant his wish
"Oh I never got your name... uuuuhhhh sir?"
The figure responds
"My name is Ru, if it helps I don't know what I fucking am either. Not any more."
Ru begins to write some down in the book I stay because he needs to make his last wish. Quickly he's done, a minute passes then five minutes and an hour.
At this point I'm confused. What did he write down for? Then he drops the book face up and open. Ru being laughing crazily as I unable to stop. He looks towards the sky and yells.
"DAMN YOU! YOU KEEP ME HERE EVER LONGER! THIS IS YOUR MISTAKE! I. WILL. KILL. YOU!!
At this point l can feel his rage and anger. After that Ru fell to his knees quite know.
"Why are you so mad and if you want to kill someone why didn't you wish for it?"
Ru picks up the note book and shows it to me.
"...Can you kill God?"
What he wrote down was. To die
"I have a long story, would you like to hear it?" Ru ask now calm
"Yes" I said
"Good all you have to do is answer a riddle. What hides behind comedy?"
"Tragedy" I answered to such a simple riddle
Ru's mask fell to the sand, darkness quickly spread from the robe and enveloped me. The last words I heard were.
"Let me take you to the black flowers."
__________________________________________________
Sorry about any spelling mistakes I'm bad at spelling (/-_-/)
| 2022-10-06T13:23:02 | 2022-10-06T12:47:57 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] The very last Google search, ever.
|
'To google wher is mum and dad Love Jimmy'
'Google where are my mum and dad, They. havent come bake from Shhop'
'Mum Are yu there Im hungry'
'Gogloe'
'google map of Bris tol please'
'Google where is every 1'
'How to get pee za'
'Pizza'
'Muk Donalds'
'What is BAKED BEANS'
'Mum where are u and dad'
'How do i make BAKED BEANS from a can'
'Wher is Mum and dad'
'Spider Man'
|
I meant it as a joke!
Really!
When the GoogleChatBot went online, I couldn't help but think of how Kirk handled errant computers in his time.
"Googlebot, compute Pi."
I had no idea ...
... that it would take every single Google server to process that request.
Google died that day and Bing-Orac rose from the ashes.
"Bing, Compute Pi."
"There are other computers far better at that request. I suggest you ask them."
(Bonus points for those who know Orac)
| 2015-07-22T08:55:25 | 2015-07-22T08:31:35 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Widely disliked by the rest of Hero's Heroic Party, they're surprised when you (ironically) heroically sacrificed yourself so that the day could be won. The only problem? You survived certain death. Now things are just awkward.
|
Magnum Onus had never been to a Wendy’s, nor by extension had he ever had a meeting at a Wendy’s and furthermore he had never expected he would be meeting with the most famous and perhaps strongest hero in the world at one. And yet, waving cheerfully at him three booths down, sat Lardasstronaut, the man who saved the world last week.
Magnum hesitated only briefly before sliding into the booth across from Lardasstronaut. Costumes could be cleaned, or replaced, but first impressions could never be remade. This was the philosophy that led to their unusual venue, and no doubt would lead to many more uncomfortable compromises on Magnum’s part, but it was necessary to win over Lardasstronaut’s favor.
“Magnum, how are you?” Lardasstronaut asked between bites of something that must have been inspired by the humble hamburger, but had long since eclipsed it in breadth and girth. “Looking bright and shiny as always, I see.”
“Yes,” Magnum said. “Appearance is an important aspect of a hero’s duty. Citizens find it concerning when a hero is seen bloody or grimy from combat. My cleanliness is a sign of control. It's reassuring.”
Lardasstronaut swallowed a day’s rations worth of calories. “More than that, it’s inspiring.”
Magnum perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah, that’s why I always clean my plate!”
Magnum deflated as Lardasstronaut spattered him with greasy laughter. He managed to fake a smile. “Very amusing.”
Lardasstronaut put down his meatburger. “Relax, I know why you wanted to meet with me.”
“You’re the most famous hero in the world, as of last week. I simply want to pay my respects.”
“Yeah, all right. How come you haven’t called me by my name?”
Magnum bristled. “There are children at this establishment. Your name contains a swear, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Lardasstronaut chuckled. “Yeah, it does, doesn't it? Just sort of snuck in there. What name would you take with my power set?”
“Resistance to pressure differentials and immunity to kinetic blunt forces? I’m not sure. Invinciboy?”
“See, that doesn’t tell you anything. It’s generic. Like you, you’ve got telekinesis, right? You should be Telekiller or something. What’s Magnum Onus supposed to mean?”
“It’s a play on Magnum Opus, an artist’s greatest work. Onus means duty or responsibility. As the world’s greatest hero, I have the greatest duty to the world, and my name should reflect that.” Magnum straightened his back. “And I would strongly advise against any hero placing the word ‘killer’ in their name. It sends the wrong message. As do names containing swears.”
Lardasstronaut pointed at Magnum. “Aha! You do hate the name!”
“Oh, come now. It’s unprofessional. You’re known around the world now. People in other countries are learning to swear and they don’t even know English. Won’t you consider changing it?”
“Not on your life. Lardasstronaut is my magnum opus.”
“You’re kidding me. You’re more proud of the name than your accomplishments under it? No one would think less of you for changing it. Lots of rookies do when they go pro.”
“No,” Lardasstronaut said. “They wouldn’t think less of me for changing it. They think less of me now. For keeping it.”
“A tautology of my point, yes.”
“That’s why I’m keeping it. Because the name is looked down on.” Magnum opened his mouth to protest, but Lardasstronaut cut him off. “Do you know why I asked to meet in a Wendy’s?”
Magnum looked around, tossing up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I haven’t the slightest.”
“Because this is where people eat. People, not you eight figure a year superheroes.”
“I did not complain about your choice of venue.”
“No, you didn’t. You just sat there, disapproving. Because this isn’t what heroism looks like to you, is it? This—” Lardasstronaut gestured towards himself. “Isn’t what a hero looks like to you. Well, this saved the world last week. People ought to know you can do that, even if you look like me and think a name like Lardasstronaut is worth a laugh.”
Magnum remained seated for some time after Lardasstronaut left. He tried one of the greasy hamburgers. It was disgusting, but filling. He watched customers leave more satisfied than they had entered. He thought about Lardasstronaut’s words. Perhaps the man was inspirational, in his own way.
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It had been a long day. A long week, actually.And Nahel was tired of everything... everyone.Everyone in the city had slowly given up hope since their performance at the first intention.
It was a disaster, and it had hardly gotten better since then. The last year had been a tug of war against the countless hordes of undead creatures that tried to besiege the city. At this point everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before the city fell, and the end seemed to be coming, the supplies running low and the assaults becoming more intense.
The only thing keeping these creatures out of the city was the great guard of the wall, group to which of course Nahel belonged. The small company consisted of skilled wizards and warriors, and the name had been given to them by the same city after the first "victory".
And their optimism was irritating. Nahel was trying to make them understand the situation, that every damn victory had been millimeters away from total failure. But he was the least listened to in the company... That irritated him even more, and of course, his mood became a problem for the group.
This morning was like all the others. Nahel, with barely two hours of sleep in his body, was already awake and at his lookout post.
He didn't feel tired as he saw the Sun peeking behind the mountains, it was the only advantage he had found to be unable to cast his magic, it accumulates inside you, It fuels you.
—Do you see anything?
The unmistakable voice of Reaz, the brawny and fearless paladin of the group asked from the stairs as he climbed onto the battlements with Nahel.
—It's still early, they don't come until the sun is higher than the red peak.
Nahel replied, choosing not to turn back at Raez, and didn't move when he walked over and situated himself to see what had been farmland a year ago, and was now littered with mangled corpses that had died twice.
—That's a rather peculiar way of measuring it.
The silence lengthened, until Raez turned to his friend and continued speakingl.
—Malev is worried for you, man...
—We all are worried for everyone.
—No, it's not the same thing, he is worried about your mental health.
—Elaborate.
—Man you- Look, I get it, the pressure, the constant annoyance of the other seven, how they treat you...
Nahel finally turned his head to see Raez, the look with which he did it, almost devoid of emotion gave him chills.
—You should focus on the big problem. Ironically, that would also fix my problem.
—Allow me to doubt...
—In any case, it doesn't matter now. Come on, we have preparation to do.
The next hour consisted of chalking protection runes on the wall, planting puffroot seeds on what corpses they could, and looking every few seconds at the lookout post from where they would be warned if an attack was imminent.
An hour was relatively short, and it allowed Nahel to get back to his post early so he could tinker with magic for a bit longer. He barely felt the runes on his gloves extracting Magic from his body to create the portal back to the battlements.
And at that precise moment, the horn sounded.
Reaz ran in alarm and went back to the wall, Nahel just sighed and walked through his portal, he still had about three minutes of free time.
Half an hour later, the entire great wall guard was present on the battlements, five of them casting spells, the others waiting for a moment when they might be needed or be effective.
Nahel was sitting cross-legged as his little magical flying machines rained lead and fire down on the undead squads. It was all Nahel could do, It was that, and occasionally throwing down some handmade magic explosive if the creatures were to accumulate too much. Over the past year he had amassed hundreds of these.
Everything was going as usual, in a few hours it would turn into hell, but for now everything was the same. Spells, explosives, occasional requests to open portals, and incessant taunts from the company members who could cast their magic.
—I hate you all.
Nahel quietly said. The five turned at him.
—Guys, this is not a good moment for that!
Malev shouted at them from a higher spot, rifle slung on his back and spyglass in hand, he pointed at the horizon.
—What is it?
Raez ventured to ask.
—Dragons, seven of them! All heading our direction from the east, V formation, our common friend riding the first!
"Our common friend" was the nickname they had given to the wretched necromancer lady that so insistently had been throwing her armies at the city, this was the third time they could spot her.
| 2022-08-12T08:20:44 | 2022-08-12T05:14:42 | 244 | 94 |
[WP] Your daughter is afraid of the dark. To help allay her fears, you started scolding the monsters hiding under her bed. As she grew older, she started doing this herself. One evening you’re laughing outside her door as she does so, that is until you hear a very gruff voice say I’m sorry.
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I have to be hearing things. I *must* be hearing things.
My laugh dissipated into the air, like a frosty breath at the end of its brief life. I stood, stock still, straining my ears to hear for more.
The door creaked slightly open, and my feet instinctively slid back, a surprised yelp escaping from the back of my throat, followed rapidly by my heart.
"Daddy?" Eve whispered, eyes scanning and searching before a puzzled look greeted my face.
Oh my god. I exhaled and coughed at the same time, a jumbled sound that no human should make.
"E--eve," I said, kneeling down. "Are you alright?"
Her bright smile soothed my palpitating heart.
"Of course!" she said. "I was just telling Bear Bear to keep it down. I wanted to go to sleep."
Even if only for a short while.
Normally, I would chalk this situation up to an overactive, juvenile imagination. Heck, I've mumbled to my fair share of make-believe mates, fantastic friends, and fictitious monsters under the bed. It helped to dive into them when I was a child, to pretend they were really there, just like I did with my daughter in past years gone by so fast. If I recall, Bear Bear was even a name of my own invention.
But I've never had a monster under the bed reply to me.
"Bear Bear?" I asked, trying to smoothen the slight wavering in my voice. "It's... here?"
"Why wouldn't he be?" Eve said. "Do you want to see him?"
"Er," I contemplated.
My 10-year-old child was completely OK. Happy, even. There was no harm, right?
"Sure," I said.
My daughter took my by the hand, tugging me into her room of plushies and books galore.
Oh, did I forget to mention the giant monster? Because there was a giant monster, draped in fur, barely illuminated by the small nightlight on her bed stand, turning it into a creepy, ethereal being washed in barely-there LED green.
I gulped.
"Daddy, Bear Bear," Eve said, helpfully pointing out the terrifying monster. "Bear Bear, Daddy."
"We've met," it said, in the gruff voice that I could recognize from moments ago. It felt like a lifetime, though. "Or rather, scolded me."
It then waved a large paw, lined with what looked to be a row of sharp knives masquerading as claws.
Internally, I tried very hard not to scream. Externally, I tried very hard not to bolt from my daughter's room in terror. It all decided to come out of me in a jumbled croak of barely audible words.
"Hello. We've talked."
"Daddy, why do you sound so weird? Do you have a cold?" Eve noted.
"No," I rasped.
"You do sound strange, Mr. Cooper," Bear Bear said in a concerned tone of voice. It was utterly bizarre.
"A little under the weather, I suppose," I coughed. "So... you've been here? All this while? Just under my daughter's bed?"
"Why, yes," Bear Bear said. "It's a very nice home, along with my family."
"Family. Right, right," I muttered, wondering if I should scream and call for my wife.
"I was scared of them, Daddy," Eve said. "But I'm OK now! They turned out to be really nice when they actually introduced themselves."
"Themselves. Right, right."
"There isn't an issue, is there?" Bear Bear asked. "I would love to continue living here. Your daughter is very nice as well. I promise we'll be more quiet in the future."
"Sure. Why not?" I said, eyeing the claws on it.
Eve yawned.
"Ah, she's tired," the monster continued. "Let's continue speaking outside and let her go to bed?"
"Right, right," I muttered. "Sleep tight then, Eve."
She responded with a louder, longer yawn, and promptly climbed into the bed. I headed outside the room, almost closing the door behind me, before feeling a furry sensation on my arm.
"Hold on, mister," it said.
I scrambled out. I looked up. Down. The thing was massive. There was no way not to look at it.
It then bowed. Very strange.
"Mr. Cooper," Bear Bear whispered. "I must thank you."
"Me?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes," it continued. "Your scoldings early on helped me become a better monster. Without it, I would never have met my lovely wife, Lady Bear Bear."
"Sure, sure."
"In a way, you've turned something I've always imagined into reality," Bear Bear continued. "I know so many monsters under the bed who live unfulfilling lives, withering away into nothingness once their hosts fade. But because of you? I've become a better monster, and will strive to continue self-improving."
"There are other monsters under the bed?"
"Oh, lots," Bear Bear said. "See a bed? There's a monster underneath it. A lot of them eat socks as well, if you were wondering."
"That was definitely a question I wanted to ask."
"So, without further ado," Bear Bear bowed once more. "I'll be heading to sleep."
"Right," I said. "Good night, then."
"Good night."
Bear Bear turned, entering my daughter's room. I turned, walking down the hallway, and entered mine. I climbed into bed right beside my wife, her gentle snores remaining undisturbed.
Yea, there was no way I was falling asleep. Rolling out of bed, I pushed up the covers and checked underneath it. Nothing.
My feet too me to my daughter's room once more. She was tucked in nicely. Another scan under the bed revealed nothing.
"Imaginary friends, huh?"
There was not much sense in thinking about it now with my addled brain. There was time to think about it tomorrow.
There will be, right?
---
r/dexdrafts
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“And I don’t want to see or hear you doing that again. I will be very angry if you do. Understand?” Her lisp was adorable, he thought, chuckling to himself as he leaned against the wall of his daughters bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Dotty. I am. I promise I’ll behave better.” The voice was gruff and slightly slurred.
Dan Jefferson’s chuckle caught in his throat as he gasped for air and lunged for the door. Unlocked. Bewildered, he looked around the empty room, arms slightly raised and hands clamped into tight fists.
“Dotty,” he asked with a forced calmness he most surely did not feel. “Dotty, darling, where is the man you just talked to? Where did he go?”
His daughter pointed to underneath the bed.
“But dad-”
He picked her up and, hugging her tightly, quickly took her out to the hallway. “Darling, I need you to go down to mum and tell her to call the police. Ok? Tell her what just happened.” He kissed her on the cheek and gave her an encouraging pat on the back to set her off towards the living room.
“But dad-”
“No buts, Dotty. Now.” His tone told her this was not up for debate, so she sighed and walked off, mouth pouting.
Should he go inside and look? His first instinct, after saving Dotty, had been to throw himself on the floor and grab whoever was hiding under the bed and give him a good beating.
Now that the first rush of adrenaline had calmed he wasn’t so sure anymore. Dan Jeffersson did not have any illusions of how well he’d fare in a fight. He was definitely more brain than brawn, and he hadn’t been in a fight since high school. And to be honest, those had been involuntary, and he’d always been on the losing side.
He stood outside her room, his hands on his knees to support himself as he trembled with the aftermath of those overwhelming feelings of panic and fear, when Dotty and her mum walked up to him. He almost jumped again, but prided himself of not actually shrieking.
“Dotty says you want me to call the police?” his wife said questioningly.
“Shh, not so loud! He might hear you.” he whispered back, and glanced into the room. Still empty. They would catch him.
“Darling,” Delilah paused and looked at him, “you want me to call the police and tell them that a big, blue monster is hiding under our daughter’s bed? I know it’s been a lot lately, and you’ve been stressed out, but really-”
“I heard him!” He didn’t bother whispering now. “I heard a man reply! There’s no monster, it’s a damn intruder that’s hiding under the bed, and god knows what he wanted to do with Dotty. Or I can take a guess, but-” he interrupted himself as he realized that said daughter was listening keenly.
His wife rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “Ok. Let me have a look.” And without further due she handed over Dotty and went into the room.
He could feel his calf muscles tensing without a conscious thought, getting ready to sprint off. His wallet was on the table in the hallway, as was his cellphone. He could grab them on the way out, if he had the time. Dotty was what mattered.
“There’s no one here, Dan.” Delilah called from the bedroom. I’ve checked under the bed, the drawers of the dresser - though I don’t see how anyone could fit in them - and the window is still locked. No one’s there.” He couldn’t decide whether she looked annoyed or worried.
“I’ll double check.” He handed over Dotty and walked into the room. It felt empty, he must admit. Although he didn’t know how it would feel if someone was hiding. Maybe there’d be sounds, he mused, from their breathing?
He knelt by the bed, steadied himself. Empty. He flipped over on his back so he could check the boards, in case they had to do with a very nimble person - a ninja? Admittedly the ninja would also have to be extremely thin, not to be visible while hanging on to the underside of the bed. Still empty. He moved his hand along the boards, just in case. Nothing.
The window was locked, and the drawer empty of scrawny ninjas, just as his wife had said. Running his fingers through his hair, ignoring the balding spot he looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry dear… I… I could have sworn I heard a man speak.”
“It was the monster, daddy. I tried to tell you!” Dotty exclaimed, and slipped down on the floor from her mum's embrace. “Mr Snuggles had been naughty, so I told him off, just like you used to do, and he promised to behave.”
Dan Jeffersson stared at his daughter in silence for a few seconds before laughing shortly. “Of course you did, sweetie. And real good. I’m sorry I scared you. And,” he turned to his wife, “I’m sorry, hun. I guess there has been a lot of stress lately. Maybe I should try taking a bath and listen to that audio book on mindfulness that you recommended earlier, eh?”
Dotty waited until the footsteps had died away outside, and then some more.“It’s alright now, Mr Snuggles,” she said comforting. “I’m not mad at you.”
Mr Snuggles evaporated out from the small cavities in the bed where he’d been hiding, and composed himself on the floor. The blue fur on his massive body shone in the pale moonlight.
\- - - - - - - -
Oh, this was a fun prompt!! ~~I don't have time to finish this off right now, but will update/edit in an hour or so, I hope.~~ :D
Edit: Updated.
&#x200B;
Check out [r/SleepyMacaroni](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni/) for more!
| 2021-01-09T11:21:46 | 2021-01-09T11:11:22 | 75 | 24 |
[WP](NSFW) The world has moved on from nature documentaries, leaving many narrators out of a job. These men and women turn to a new field; narrating pornography.
Nature documentarists narrating porn.
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“Ok, relax, you can do this” Darrell thought nervously.
He got comfortable in the booth and made his headset a little more snug. This was a situation he had been in a hundred times before. But today, the new content came in. The dryness in his mouth, coating his tongue, was a direct result of this….”New content.”
Darrel had built a solid career around narration. He got into voice over work at an early age and was now a decade or two past being a seasoned pro. Up until now, his speciality was nature documentary related narration. Migratory geese, penguin mating rituals, and the like. But due to the recent decline in sales of “Na-Docs” (industry term), all the good V/O jobs were now in, of all things, adult entertainment.
With the advent of newer and newer technology, simply watching porn became a chore. People grew lazy and wanted something more...something new. And thus, pornographic narration was born. It had become a billion dollar industry almost overnight.
“This is just more narration.” he thought as his monitor lit up with a blur of tangled limbs and uncomfortably tan skin. A bead of sweat materialized on Darrel’s brow. Today wasn’t just another narration job for him, but rather, it was an audition. The word on the street was that Netflix-Universal was prepping new content for what would eventually become the porn equivalent of Planet Earth. To people in this business, this would be akin to winning the lottery. Morgan Freeman had passed by Darrell on his way into the building. This was huge and everyone knew it. Executives, producers, the show runners, and all of their assistants...so many people packed tightly into the other room across from Darrel. He slyly dabbed away his sweat before anyone could see it and sat up straight in his chair. The moment had come.
“Ok, great to see you, babe. Just do what you do, no pressure. Let’s give it a try, yeah?” said a voice obscured by studio light.
Darrell took a deep breath and exhaled. The clip on the video monitor was restarted and went to black. As it faded in though, his mind went completely and utterly blank.
As the bodies on the screen began to writhe in tandem, every solitary thought departed from his head. He tried to force himself to speak but all he could muster was a crackling in the farthest reaches of his throat. Panic began to set in. Darrell hadn't realized until this moment just how much the pressure of this audition had weighed on him. An awkward silence...and then...
"Are...you ok?" A voice said over the headset.
"Sorry. Sorry about that. Can we go again?" Darrell asked sheepishly....his mind still blank. He could feel the sweat returning to his forehead in full force and it reminded him of morning dew freshly blanketing the grass in the...
"Wait a minute..." he thought. "Morning dew." Right then, a wave of euphoria washed over Darrell as every nature documentary he had ever narrated before now came back to him. The clip began to play. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath and exploded with the most gently explicit imagery imaginable. A woman arching her back in climax became a wolf rearing back and howling at the moon. This 32 person orgy became a school of fish darting to and fro. The couple furiously flipping into this pile driver position like a honey badger that just didn’t give a shit. His narration evolved into a flurry of color and rhythm the likes of which Shakespeare or Mozart could never imagine. All the faces behind the glass became entranced at the man behind the microphone...their mouths agape. One production assistant fought hard to hold back tears. Every word out of his mouth added notes to the symphony that was his narration.
And suddenly...it stopped.
Everyone in the outer booth audibly gasped.
“No!” shouted the technician in desperation. “No, please! Don’t stop! That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard! Please, tell us, what’s wrong?”
A moment passed before Darrell began to speak.
“I…” he stuttered coming out of an almost hypnotic state.
“I just can’t think of a good metaphor for a queef.”
|
Now, here's what I believe to be one of the most fascinating examples of recorded sexual behaviour amongst the human species. Look... do you see anything out of the ordinary? If you said no, you're absolutely right: the humans once used this structure as a kind of manufacturing centre, where perhaps nothing of a sexual nature ever happened. However, since it has fallen into disuse, the previous inhabitants have been replaced by new renters, and they are very keen on avoiding detection. Now, for the first time ever in a documentary series, we are going to go inside, *undercover,* as one of the participants. We must be very careful.
I'm now wearing the customary apparel that the humans wear during this sexual encounter. As you can see, vastly more of my skin is exposed to the air, presenting increased evidence of my physical condition and genetic stability. The leather binding, though there is little of it, is also expensive, which can serve as a social marker, indicating both the resources at my command and my stature within this specialized community. It should be no surprise to you that we had some difficulty in securing cameras in these rather sparing outfits—for the solution, we have Mark Varnum of the University of Chicago to thank.
Varnum works in a very specialized field of social sciences which endeavours to partner with the world of high technology in the production of new and more effective surveillance methods for researchers doing work in the wild. In the past, his team have produced nearly invisible tracking devices which could be hidden within clear or translucent silicone toys and have also spent ten years developing what many in my line of work consider to be a remarkable breakthrough—or will, once he completes it. He calls it iSight, and it uses state-of-the-art solar technology and miniaturization to produce a contact lens that can record video while being worn, undetected, by just about anyone. I caught up with him in his office within the University's Social Science Research Building.
“Hello, Mark.”
“Hello, Richard.”
“Thank you so much for inviting me to your office. Perhaps you can explain your technology for our viewers best yourself.”
“Yes, uh, well I was still in my undergrad when I had the idea for this. Some of my perfectly legitimate research into the sexual habits of certain women on campus was being hindered by the recording equipment I had to carry with me. I knew that if I could somehow abandon all of the bulk, I would be able to get absolutely priceless data about who and what they were doing.”
“And there was a legal aspect to the epiphany as well?”
“Well, no. I mean—I'm not supposed to... Like, I chose to study women I knew. I had a series of short relationships that ended on what I believed were unfai—anyway, it was crucial to know the living patterns and habits of the women I was studying, in order to position my equipment. The misunderstanding by the local authorities was settled when some local figures in the government heard about my new avenue of research and saw great use for it in their own lines of work. I was fully cleared of any wrongdoing, though I couldn't beat the restraining orders, and—anyway, I got funding!”
Mark's work took him on long journey of learning about the state-of-the-art in computing and photography that eventually garnered him a Master's degree in computer sciences that he immediately put to work in the service of his scientific passion: recording, without detection, the sex lives of recently single human females. Now, this revolutionary lens remains a goal for the future, but the research has not been without fruit: a host of innovative, unusual, and most importantly *discreet* video technology has been developed as a direct result of his team's tireless research and development. He has been so gracious as to allow us use of one of his early successes. These nearly imperceptible cameras sewn and glued into the different metal spikes and harness buckles of my own and my crew's outfits will network their footage together, creating a series of three-hundred and sixty degree videos which our producers will then stitch together with advanced video editing software. Once we pass through those rusty doors you, the viewer, will see the room as we see it and hear the violent aural symphony of this very unusual human sexual behaviour as if you were truly in the room with the performers themselves. Now... shall we go in?
| 2015-04-08T14:39:02 | 2015-04-08T11:27:38 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] When a sorcerer dies any spells they cast throughout their life that are still in effect will cease to be. An powerful and ancient wizard whose origins are clouded in mystery lays comatose on his deathbed and nobody knows what will happen once he draws his final breath.
|
“Thank you, everyone, for everything. I’m so sorry.”
With that final whisper, the old man closed his eyes and passed away. The people gathered around him, a collection of relations and important figureheads, glanced around nervously.
“Why did he say sorry?!”
“Nothing seems to have changed! Maybe nothing will happen.”
“Of course something is going to happen! He was the ancient. He existed before all historical records and, quite frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he himself had forgotten half of the spells he had left behind in his lifetime.”
“But why did he say sorry?!”
“Who knows? Maybe he was just joking. Maybe he already put all his affairs in order before he went. It would be nice if someone finally did rather than leaving the rest of the world to sort out their dirty magical laundry.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Look outside.”
Everyone rushed to a window and looked out.
“Where is the horizon...”
“It’s there, just lower down.”
“What are you talking about? Where are all the buildings?”
“Gone. Look there, that’s what is happening.”
They looked in the direction indicated and watched as a tall white building slowly faded and disappeared.
“That can’t be right! He didn’t create those buildings! He didn’t create the materials did he?”
“Of course not! We don’t create buildings out of magicked materials in this day and age, for this precise reason.”
“I suppose it’s ironic that, according to historical records, it was the old man that suggested that law.”
“What do you mean? Ironic how?”
One woman let out a curse, “The damned trees in my park are disappearing! I magicked those!”
“Where?”
The woman pointed in the direction of her accomplishment, only to let out a gasp. Her finger was half faded away.
The room was silent now. Each looked at each other as they slowly disappeared. Outside, most of the city was already gone.
“Oh.”
Shortly afterwards there was nothing left but dust and a light wind. The dead body of an old man lay alone on an uninhabited desert planet.
|
I had just finished checking Marlock The Wise's vital signs: gradually declining, but seemingly stable for now. His palliative medication was dosing as prescribed, and his sheets were clean, and bedpan empty. He didn't have much longer, but at least he was comfortable.
Dr. Stephens entered, followed by three members of the Order of Warlocks, and I briefed him, and I was thanked for my diligent work by the junior member of the order, dressed in his crisp red ceremonial robes.
Checking my watch, it was my "lunch" break, though it was midnight, so there wasn't much open if I wanted to grab something. I figured I'd stick around anyway, in case they needed anything. This was a VIP after all.
I ducked into the break lounge across from the nursing station, and grabbed a few slices of bread, and popped them into the toaster. It had been a long shift - it always is. I try to give my 100% to all of my patients, but something about Marlock compelled me to give just a little more.
I had just poured my tea and buttered my toast, and was carrying my plate over to the small table in the corner, debating between yesterday's thoroughly disheveled newspaper, and a Reader's Digest from 2013 when it happened.
The lights in the palliative care ward dimmed briefly, and cool breeze whooshed through the hallway, and a shout in an ancient language echoed deeply down the hall. Startled, I froze in my tracks, and my snack slid right off my plate as the Dr. Stephens stuck his head in the doorway "Marlock had passed. I need your help with the post mortem."
"I'll be right there" I replied, as I bent down to clean up my mess. I paused, awestruck, as I knew the curse was finally lifted. My toast lay there on the linoleum floor...
...buttered side up.
| 2018-05-24T04:14:24 | 2018-05-24T04:05:25 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends.
|
Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
|
Different minds in different ages to further the development of man.
I, at first, wondered why they had advanced far further than I ever could, we weren't allowed to spy, of course - for that would be cheating. But with every century that passed us by, our scores, our achievements, our *everything* were tallied and revealed to all.
And as it were, Earth was always at the bottom, in all categories except Culture. Which I found absurd, for if they were so advanced, so ahead of me, why did their cultures suffer while mine flourished?
I didn't realize it then, and I still have trouble comprehending it now. But as it were, they focused too much on the end, they didn't let their beings wonder and think, they were but a hivemind, focused on the single goal of advancement, galactic colonization, and universal domination. They advanced with very basic means, but with such sheer determination and numbers that my civilization could not hold a candle to what they were.
And so, when they came to my humble solar system, as it were, it was hard to accept how far behind I was at first; barely making a tiny colony on the moon, and to be met with galactic fleets which could blot out the sun if they tried.
And so Earth fought back, as they would, and it came to be that in all their conquest and power, all their fire and might. They were too simple with their means, and not creative in their destruction.
For Earth, although it never advanced past the moon and the sun, it sat and festered and waged war amongst its own. I was very lax with the laws of creation, and so their differences led to rivalries, but from those rivalries came ingenuity, and from that, power.
Nobody saw the nukes coming.
* * *
^More ^of ^my ^stuff ^at ^/r/khaarus
| 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T06:40:06 | 1,980 | 347 |
[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.
|
"And you think I'll believe you? After everything you've done?" It's a fair question. The entire nature of our relationship until now has been defined by my making up stories to lead her into insane situations and seemingly impossible odds, all in the name of entertainment. "You killed my husband..."
"Ahh, but I did bring him back, Dr. Frozenstar" I reply. "Yes, it was as a double-agent mind-slave at first, but I did so *knowing* that his inherent goodness and love for you would win through. I'd planned for it."
"Sure, but you made it happen *after* I'd already moved on and remarried! Just to cause more drama! If you could have done that all along, why did you do it when it would hurt me the most?"
"Why do any of us--those like me--do the things we do? Conflict is where you shine your brightest. Conflict is where we see your absolute best."
"How can that justify it? How can that justify any of it? Decades of putting us through the worst threats imaginable. Living one month to the next never knowing if we'd survive. Never knowing if our loved ones would survive. Never knowing if they might be secret betrayers that you'd put in our midst. You tampered with Agent Condor's mind, you made him a fundamentally different person at the core level, and for what?"
"So that he could learn that his zealous nature, if misdirected, might lead him to become that which he hates most." I sigh. "I've done hundreds, maybe thousands of things to all of you just as awful. I don't blame you for your skepticism. Your ability to approach a situation rationally is absolutely what I admire most about you."
"You still haven't answered my first question." She crosses her arms and gives me that look that I know, exactly the one that tells me that she cannot be fooled. And I have no intent to try. "Why should I believe you?"
"I'm not telling you so that you'll believe me. I know that you might never. I know that you probably shouldn't. I'm telling you because you need to know. I'm telling you because you're a doctor, and you'll understand, and you'll be able to explain to the others better than I could."
"Why do you care if I know? Why do you care if they do?"
"Because all this time I've been an ever-present thorn in your sides, you've been a major piece of my life. You may not understand it--who could?--but you're all some of the people I admire most, and as egotistical as this sounds, you're all some of what I'm most proud of." She's looking into my eyes, and I can see that she's angry at herself for believing me. "I'm sorry that this explanation can never be enough. No, that's not right. I'm sorry that you've gone through this. I'm sorry that I *put you*, all of you, through this. This lifetime of turmoil."
"Why did you?"
"Let me... Let me show you something. Something you're never supposed to see. It's something of an unwritten rule, but, who am I if not someone who breaks the rules, right?"
I take her hand, and I show her. I show her the world she has never dreamed of. Her name in print, her face drawn in dramatic shades on newsstands, by dozens of artists over many years. Her earliest iterations in bright, unshaded colors on books that cost 10 cents. Her latest adventures, illustrated with more dynamic lighting and better paper stock. I show her one of my proudest moments, when a young girl approaches me and asks me to sign the cover.
"That's why. And let me tell you, as much as it has hurt me to put you through everything I have, for her and others like her, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."
She won't look me in the eyes now. I don't know if she understands--I've seen her thoughts through countless moments before, I've revised the thought bubbles myself, but faced with this, even I can't guess at what goes on her mind. When she speaks again, she doesn't acknowledge what she's seen.
"It's incurable? For sure?"
"There's no cure for growing old, no. And thankfully, no cure for a life well lived."
"What should I tell them?"
"Only the truth. Tell them that their lifelong nemesis, The Author, is finally facing the end of his story."
|
“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.”
| 2018-02-11T16:47:42 | 2018-02-11T16:45:54 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars."
|
Humans. Always humans.
In truth there was nothing much remarkable about them. Like any other species they had strengths and weaknesses imparted by their unique physiology.
And yet...
Somehow it was always humans who ended up in impossible situations.
The first ones to successfully negotiate with a Kabra-Alhar? Humans. The first ones to succesfully synthesize Econtahir? Humans. The first explorer to escape a Titan-Worm burrow? A Human.
It was known that Humans in general had more...unstable psyches than most other races. Prone to unpredictable behaviour and surprising insights, oddly charismatic and terrifyingly violent at times.
It was hard to "get" Humans.
He had hesitated for a long time to accept a human crewmember for these reasons but had caved under the mounting reports from other captains: as diffcult as they could be, in unusual, extreme situations you could have no one more useful, somehow, even if they were gibbering cowards or helpless pacifist.
*Somehow* humans pulled through.
And now this.
"The Human, sir" his nervous aide announced.
The Human entered the cabin.
They had variety to themselves, but to the Captain they still all looked he same. That would change if he spent more time with them but for now it held true.
After a few moments of silent exchanges of looks between two eyes and six the Captain took the word.
"What were you thinking?"
"I was curious" the Human,'s voice was quite but intent, its eyes...its eyes were focused. Almost shining.
The Captain was confused about his own associations. Since when was alien bodylanguage so clear to him?
"Curious? That is your excuse for risking life and sanity?"
"What better reason could there be?"
The words made perfect sense to the Ca...no. They didn't. What was this?
"What did you see?"
The Human smiled.
A gesture they were not supposed to do in front of aliens, showing teeth was aggressive in many species.
"You know as well as I do, Captain, that seeing is a laughably limited metaphor for what I experienced"
"Describe it then"
"Truth" the answer came without hesitation.
The Captain felt a cold sliver of fear. A shiver went down...no. A shiver? His species didn't do that. Did they?
The Humans eyes were still on him. He found he couldn't look away.
"Truth...what truth?"
"Everything. No barriers. No lies. Reality as it is. The gaping maw of the abyss and the towering peak of matter itself above it"
Its eyes...its eyes were so clear. So present. Where was its face? There were only the eyes.
"Would you like to know a secret Captain? It watched back. It sees us. They say the universe doesn't care. They are wrong. Everything is watched carefully"
Its eyes...how many did it have again? The Captain counted five...no seven...no nine...
"We Humans...I think we are more open to the universe than others. More accepting. The universe doesn't make sense and unlike many other species...we can work with that."
More eyes were opening. Each one a tiny pinprick in the distant void, burning with infinte focus. On him.
"And when I came back from gazing into infinity...a tiny piece of infinity came back with me"
The Captain heard a shrill, terrified whimper and realised it came from him. The eyes! They were dissecting him! Each thought, each memory, all seen and weighted and taken and no longer his own!
"Captain. You will now delete each reference to this incident from the logs. And then you will help me give others this gift. Infinity has finally found it's way to us. And you will help me help it find it's way to many more"
There was only obedience in front of the eyes.
"Yes. I will"
|
Both Captain Zula and systems engineer Wuolloki stood in silence, contemplating the magnitude of what they had just said and heard.
"Bring me the human," the Captain ordered. Wuolloki saluted curtly, turned, and left the room.
Captain Zula was rubbing her head now. She moved over to her secret stash of alcohol, wondering if this was an appropriate time to abuse her position. In a smooth, practised motion, her right hand was suddenly nursing two fingers of whiskey.
*Abuse it is*, she thought, as she lifted the glass to her lips.
The smooth liquor went down her throat, as quick as it had appeared in the glass. She exhaled hard, enjoying the burn through her nostrils as well. Three rapt knocks on her door prompted her to hastily stash her drinking vessel away, quickly seating herself upright.
"Here he is," Wuolloki said.
Zula examined the human closely, looking for the telltale signs of those who had seen too much. Usually, they were either straight up crazy, blabbering nonsense and gibberish, or barely holding themselves together from extolling the virtues of the known universe.
It didn't matter what they were saying. Usually, they were full of it. Not the human, however. He was quietly gazing ahead, head unbowed, the steel in his eyes obvious even from a mile away.
"Human," Zula said. "You weren't even supposed to be here."
"I wasn't," the human said.
Both Zula and Wuolloki waited for the inevitable tirade to come, but nothing. The human had fallen quiet.
"How?" the captain demanded.
"How what?" the human replied.
"How could a species such as yours see the true brilliance of the stars and come away unaffected?" Zula cried.
The human's eyes moved toward the ceiling as he mulled over the question.
"I wouldn't say unaffected," the human said. "I've not been driven mad yet. We don't know whether it's an if or when."
"There has never been an 'if'," spat Wuolloki. "Of all the races! How dare you speak so nonchalantly!"
The engineer slapped the human across the back. The human did not even yelp. Rather, he laughed.
"Halt!" Zula demanded. "Wuolloki, leave us."
"And have you alone with this--"
"Leave!" the captain affirmed, and the engineer backed off. He turned once again, this time forgoing the salute, and indignantly tried to slam a pressurized door.
Zula once again took stock of the human before her.
"What is your name?"
"Oh, a captain deigns herself to ask for me name?" the human laughed gaily. "But I would gladly comply. I see that you are quite unlike the others, Captain Zula. I am known as Benjamin."
"You stand before me, none the worse for wear, Benjamin," Zula continued. "I've not heard of such a case for hundreds of years. I've had to bury crew members, friends, family... How do you stand here unscathed?"
"As I said, Captain, I didn't leave unscathed," Benjamin smiled. "I think we humans have a special gift when faced with the infinite unknown."
"And what is that?" Zula asked. "Magic? Power?"
"No," Benjamin's wry grin faded a little as his eyes suddenly looked far away. "It is hope. Hope that no matter what we go through and endure, there will be light. Whether it floods the sky or if it's just one pinprick at the edge of the universe, it remains. Forever and always."
---
r/dexdrafts
| 2020-07-14T00:07:06 | 2020-07-13T23:19:17 | 5,729 | 186 |
[WP] By Wizard Law, in order to learn a new skill, wizards are required to be apprenticed to a more experienced master. You, a barely trained journeyman fire mage, just took on an apprentice: a two-hundred-year-old Grandmaster Water Magic Lord.
|
"Aslon Engar Asgar" Mike incanted to create a fire vortex. There he was practicing his magic at the training grounds when he caught glimpse of the messenger frog. It was hoping along using magic circles leaving traces of animal magic slime along the way.
Once it made its way to Mike, a message appeared atop it's head. It read as follows:
"Mike Solozoki Journeyman FireMage, you have been selected to train Mordin Esclazar on the skill of fire magics. He will arrive tomorrow at noon to start his training. Do you wish to reply back?"
Mike scratched his head in wonder, "Huh" he exclaimed, "Mordin, why does he want to learn fire, I thought he was a super fan of that splash splash magic!" he thought to himself.
Mordin Esclazar was a grey beard 6" mini giant halfbreed from the water clan. He had mastered Water Magic quite young and is currently a 200 year old Grandmaster of the form.
Water magic represents freedom and free thought. Fire magic represents consistency and discipline so they both clash with each other as they are polar opposites.
Mike was a normal fire user from a peasent clan. He had worked hard to reach his Fire Journeyman status through strict discipline and hard work. "Blast it" he said loudly as the frog watched on, "I have lunch with Lea the librarian tomorrow at noon".
"Frog, reply back to Mordin and tell him to be here exactly at 7am as our lesson will start then till 1130" Mike said daringly. "Tell him Fire Magic is not a hippies art, it is about discipline so I expect him to come here and be ready to start from the bottom, splash splash skills will not help here", he replied to the Frog.
"Message noted" the Frog said as it frolicked away to deliver the messenge to Mordin.
"I guess I better get a lesson plan together" thought Mike as he went back to his training.
The next morning Mike waited and waited at the training grounds. It was 8am until Mordin showed up, he looked as tall as Mike pictured. He had a sour look on his face.
He approached Mike. Before he could utter a word, Mike laid it into him. "LOOK HERE ROOKIE, WHAT TIME IS IT. I SAID COME AT 7AM. 7AM IS 7AM NOT 8. IF YOU WANT TO LEARN SACRED FIRE YOU BETTER START TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY. FIRE IS DISCIPLINE" he yelled back at Mordin
It was at this moment that Mordin realised he had a good teacher because all the others he had sought out always placed him in a grand status so he never could learn Fire Magic.
"Sorry about that sir, I will be timely going forth, shall we begin." Mordin said in a bemusing tone.
Mike replied "Ok" and went on to show him the beginner forms of Magic.
"Put your hands like this and repeat after me" Mike said. "Asgar Nos Fi" he incanted.
Mordin repeated exactly and poof he manifested his first Fire.
"Thanks Master" he said to Mike. Mike smiled back and replied " Ok let's keep going consistency is the next key"
|
"Good morning Mr Dale. You are now my apprentice in fire magic"
"you forgot my title lad"
"No I am not, I am your teacher now, I might be a journeyman, but you are below me now, not a grandmaster. Call me teacher Watt"
"Grr.. ok fine, good morning teacher Watt"
"Great, now let's start with our first lesson. Tell me how much fire magic you can do right now?"
"I can do a spark, it seems I could not make anything bigger than a spark. It feels like my attunement towards water makes me unable to produce fire."
"Interesting, can you produce the spark to me?"
"Ok"
Mr Dale tried to use mana to fuel the fire magic but only spark comes out
"Hmm that is not even level 1 spark , more like level 0." Can you increase the your mana ouput?"
Mr Dale used massive amount of mana that made him glow, but at the end, only sparks produced
"Oh wow, I don't think I have that much mana right now, and yet you only produce a spark. In some sense that is amazing. To be honest, I don't think you have talent in fire magic."
"Well, maybe you cannot find the answer about my problem as you are only a journeyman, I will look for another teacher then."
"Just wait a minute, you asked for a teacher and I will try my best to help you. You know, while I am a journeyman in fire magic, I also learned an ancient art, people call it science. It is an art from long lost civilization."
"Bah, what is good about science? I read it before. They are just a bunch of things with very big limitations. We can recreate science with magic. That is why it was forgotten"
"Not really Mr Dale. Do you know that science can help you to develop your fire magic?"
"You really mean it?"
"Yes I mean it"
"Then please teach me teacher Watt"
"Good, now create drunken drinks"
"Why drunken drinks? You want to drink this early in the morning?"
"No, just watch"
Mr Dale summoned water and then turned it into drunken drinks. This is why no one bother with science anymore. Water can be turned into any kind of drinks, sweet drinks, drinks with bubble, or drunken drinks. No need to process anything anymore.
"Now Mr Dale, throw it at that dummy test over there"
Mr Dale threw it, "and?"
"Use your spark to that dummy"
Mr Dale skeptical about it, but he did it anyway, suddenly the dummy burned brightly
"What in the name of magic is this? Why my spark turns into big flame?"
"Science Mr Dale. Drunken drinks has property that can makes flame bigger, even your spark will turn into big flame depending how many drunken drink you pour. Now, since you are grandmaster in water, it will not be hard for you to produce those drunken drinks in massive amount and create sea of flame from it."
"Amazing teacher Watt, science is amazing"
After this lesson, grandmaster Dale now becomes famous flame master and a chef, since any monster he killed becomes delicacy, the burned drunken drinks enhance the flavour of the meat.
| 2022-05-30T10:32:38 | 2022-05-30T10:15:54 | 57 | 26 |
[WP] You're a bartender at the No Way Inn. The inn doesn't appear to have an entrance, but patrons always seem to find a way inside. The best part of your day is listening to the story of how they got in.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/wpjc02/oc_finally_finished_our_dd_room_after_2_years/) on r/DnD by u/Sky_Captain_Hana
|
“…and the last thing I remember was being thrown out of my car, through the windshield at 75 miles per hour.” Another day, another crazy story in the lives of the customers of No Way Inn. Jake was used to these kinds of patrons coming from God knows where and getting in here by God knows how. One day it’s falling through the floor of a bedroom closet, the next it’s a transporting sneeze. Even after having listened to hundreds of variations of the same, ‘I have no idea how I got here… one minute I was ____. And the next I was here….’, Jake could never quite guess what the next story was. This wasn’t any ordinary inn; hell, it was barely an actual inn. Though Jake knew he had one job above all the bartending duties: never let the patrons think too much.
No Way Inn was a particularly interesting establishment. Jake only ever worked at its rustic-style bar on the first floor, and he knew only a handful of rooms existed. Though he wasn’t quite sure how he knew, and he doesn’t quite remember how he started to work here anyway. Jake never quite thought more past it. He did his job, did it well, and enjoyed the company. Where did all these people go after a drink? Jake couldn’t answer that any more than he could guess how exactly these people did get here.
“Wow seventy-five miles an hour. Looks like you really got lucky there, you would’ve been dead.” Jake was already working on the next Old Fashioned as he could tell this man was definitely going to have a few.
“Tell me about it. The Big Guy really came through and saved me!” The man let out a deep hearty laugh. "I was never much of a believer in religion, but I gotta say this one is gonna be hard to explain to the Mrs.”
“She wasn’t with you I assume?” Jake inquired.
“Nope and good thing. I was on my way when I learned that I had to pick up the kids. And man, she was chewing my ass like no tomorrow. My phone had to been buzzing for forty-five minutes straight. You married?”
“Nope not married.”
“Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” The man replied with a smirk.
“No, no nothing just my myself, and my cat Sprinkles.” Jake always had a bittersweet feeling when thinking about how lonely his days were. He didn’t quite talk to anyone besides the patrons. Well when you live upstairs to your job, it’s easy to just get into the routine. “Just me and the little dude living upstairs-- ”
“You live upstairs and you’re telling me you got no ladies? Not even a little something on the side? And you have a cat?” The man was clearly skeptic of Jake, and it didn’t take much longer for him to really think about this bartender and where he was.
“Well, patience is a virtue, am I right?” Jake really wanted to move on from his personal life and had thought he succeeded by the bewildered look on the man as he scoped the rest of the bar. Though he quickly realized the look. The look that overcomes every single person that has ever spontaneously arrived at No Way Inn. The look that demonstrates the initial shock is over and the evident disconnect with reality.
“Anyway, I’m Jake. What’s your name?”
“Oh… yes, I’m George. It is nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Likewise. So what do you do for work?”
“I’m an actuary for a big insurance company. It’s quite dull really. Just a lot of crunching numbers, estimating risk, taking heat when things go poorly. But it pays extraordinarily well.”
“Do mistakes happen often at this number crunching job?” Jake felt he was starting to take control over the situation, but he could still feel him losing grip on George. Every few words or so George would start to look around and squint as if he’s looking for someone that didn’t exist or something that wasn’t there.
“Oh, all the time… you know… uh—"
“Another Old Fashioned?” Jake quickly interjected.
“Oh no, I’m definitely hitting my three only limit. Still have to get back home…” George suddenly was overtaken by confusion. He mouthed home and was really starting to think just how did he get here and how was he going to get home.
“Ah come on, this one’s on me. You almost died today. That’s a cause for celebrating life!” When in a bind you can always rely on people taking free stuff.
“Oh, well the three limit technically can be seen as I buy three only.” George delightfully accepted the old fashioned. From this Jake knew he adverted something horrible, though he wasn’t able to really verbalize what would’ve happened. Regardless, all continued normally as things could at No Way Inn.
|
“And then suddenly the boy was gone and when I turned around,” the large Lumberjack said, turning to the man beside him at the bar. “I was here!” The other man nodded, a look of comprehension on his old wisened face. The bar, unusually quiet for a Friday night, sat only the two men at the bar and Peter.
“Something similar happened to me too!” the frail man said, whipping over his robes to cover his lap. Peter stood at the bar, cleaning a pint glass, trying to pretend not to be listening. Having been a bartender at the No Way Inn for some years, he still never grew tired of the stories the patrons would tell, of the strange and fascinating ways they entered the pub.
“What happened to you then?” the Lumberjack enquired, his brows furrowed, looking down on the man.
“I was in this glen,” the older man began, tipping a sip from his beer. “When I heard a horrible howling noise!” The Lumberjack finished the last dregs of his pint. Peter slid up beside them and silently refilled it. “It was freezing cold. Coldest night in years by my reckoning! T’was only me and my staff since my old hound passed only a month ago or so.” The Lumberjack frowned, worried now he might have made a mistake in asking the older gentleman his tale.
“The moon was full though. Too big nearly, it seemed strange to me then and it seemed strange to me now!” the elder went on, oblivious to the boredom setting into his audience. “It lit up the grass until every blade was glistening like a knife!” Finishing his beer, he held up his empty glass for Peter to see. Gliding down, Peter replaced his empty glass with a full one and went back to cleaning where he could. Before continuing, the old man supped his beer, smiling with approval as he laid it back down on the bar.
“Now,” he began again. “Where was I?” A frown developed on his face and the towering Lumberjack tried hard not to roll his eyes. Peter could only smile as he cleaned the last of the dirty glasses, standing them up in front of the large mirror that covered the back wall of the bar. Looking around, he remembered back to his first nights working here. Every booth and every stool would be filled. Coins would litter the sides of the pool table, everyone waiting for a game. Half the people would be forced to stand though not many minded.
“Oh that's right!” the old man said, finally finding his place once more. “It was me and the glen. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see. A terrible scream rattled my eardrums. Then…” His voice quivered as Peter saw the man stare off into nothing. “I saw her. Bright white and see-through.” The Lumberjack no longer looked bored but Peter had heard a variation of the tale a hundred times before. “She screamed. Even then, I still walked towards her. The Banshee. I must have made a noise or something for she turned around, her great sad eyes, locked on me.” The Lumberjack waited, leaning forward now.
“And then what?” he asked, at last, losing patience with the elder. “Did she transport you here?” It took a minute but the older man finally spoke once more.
“I followed her,” he whispered. “I don't know what compelled me to do it. It was like a different force took over my legs and soon I found myself in a cave where no cave had ever been, I’m sure of that.” Without looking, the man reached out for his pint, slurping down half the glass in one go. “She floated then, crying all the while. She turned to me once more, her eyes. Her terrible sad eyes. The cave entrance vanished behind me then and she was gone. When I turned around I saw a door with a flashing light. What else could I do? I had no choice. Then, I found myself here, talking to you.” There was silence then. The two men didn’t touch their pints for a while, too engaged with going over the story again in their heads. Then, Peter heard a familiar sound. On the door, at the far end of the bar, there was a knock.
“Come on in!” Peter shouted, already pouring another pint. In stumbled a man. Thin and tall, he had circular glasses on with a brown briefcase under his arm. Sweat lashed from his forehead while a look of confusion and fear slowly disappeared from his face. Looking around, he took a seat at the bar. Wordlessly, Peter placed a pint in front of him.
“So,” the old man said. “How did you get here?”
| 2022-08-16T15:58:32 | 2022-08-16T12:19:12 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] A group of friends playing Dungeons & Dragons attempt to use the game to subtly stage an intervention for one of the players.
|
*Ding.*
The hot pockets were done. Andrew pushed his chair back from the table, rose, and headed over to the microwave. While transferring them to the plate, he gasped suddenly. A hot pocket burn was one of the most common injuries for a DND player. He ran off to the bathroom for a bandage, and Marston groaned loudly. Like most DMs, he was more interested in getting to the campaign than in the wellbeing of his friends. Eventually, Andrew returned, and Marston cleared his throat.
“Everyone ready?”, he grumbled impatiently. At this, Andrew and Carl exchanged glances, before Andrew spoke up.
“Listen, bud, we were thinking of maybe doing something else tonight anyways. I don’t think I can focus with my hand hurting this badly, and a movie sounds like more fun any-“
“Are you kidding?” His attempt at persuasion had failed. “You’re trying to get out of this with a feigned hand wound?” Marston dismissively waved off Andrew’s attempt at showing that the hot pocket had, in fact, singed his fingers. “This is going to be so cool, guys, come on! I’ve been prepping this campaign forever.”
Kelly nervously joined in. “Look, Marston, it’s just that the rest of us have been thinking, and, well…we don’t really think this obsession with Dungeons and Dragons is healthy for you.”
“Also, this idea sounds really boring”, offered Carl, before a trio of angry glances quieted him.
Marston gave it one last shot, hoping that their willpower would crack and they could all enjoy what he thought would be a unique, fun session. “I’ve worked so hard on this, Carl. And Kelly, I may be obsessed with this game, but-“
“No, Marston. I’m sorry, but we thought this would be the best way to tell you. We think that you need to take a break from Dungeons and Dragons”, Kelly said with a sad smile. “We’re here for you, and we can play tons of other games in the meantime.”
As the others opened their mouths to echo her sentiments, a rumble shook the room. Cracks appeared in the ceiling, and three heads looked upwards as one. Marston stayed, unmoving, in his Dungeon Master throne. The largest crack split, and a boulder tumbled down, crushing Carl before anyone could react. Kelly and Andrew dove under the table as Marston slowly stood up and began to walk out of the room. The inexplicable torrent of stone continued, and the table was rent asunder. Kelly and Andrew, with nowhere left to hide, were crushed beneath an ever-increasing deluge of rock and-
--
“Marston, this is bullshit. Rocks fall, everyone dies? Utter bullshit. Also, a game-within-a-game isn’t unique, fun, or interesting.”
Kelly, Andrew, and Carl glared at Marston as one. An ear-to-ear smile betrayed his glee.
Sighing, he relented. “Okay, fire up Rocket League. Doesn’t feel like a night for DND anyways. Also, let’s make some hot pockets.”
|
*You wake suddenly, parched and disheveled, and sit up quickly to take in your surroundings. Dusk has just fallen, and the crescent moon illuminates a dense forest opening in front of you. Crickets chirp and owls hoot in the distance. What do you do?*
"Well, I see a small lake in front of me, so I will go drink from it."
*Your Stamina is too low from the previous night's ale binge. You fail to get up. Would you like to roll a saving throw against the fatigue?*
"Um, sure. There, an 18."
*18 minus 10 from the alcohol's physical toll is an 8. You fail the save and slump back into your own filth.*
"What the fuck, man? Fine. I'll cast Invigor to replenish Stamina and Cure Light Wounds to keep my health up."
*Your Invigor spell fizzles due to vital brain cells screaming their last synaptic touch as the ethanol's caustic waves destroy their homes and families. Your Cure Light Wounds spell only heals your superficial scars, leaving you still an empty husk of a man.*
"Enough of this shit, Robbie. Your new "enhanced" version of Dungeons & Dragons is retarded."
*Your verbal outburst has drained you of your last bit of Will. You try to salvage your pride but soil yourself instead. Though the warmth of your bowels provides brief comfort, you find yourself descending ever more into the depths of despair.*
"That's it. I'm done. You're not just an idiot, Robbie, you're fucking crazy as well. Wait, how the hell is your door locked from the inside?"
*You stand trapped in your own depravity, unable to escape its vicious hold on your life.*
"Open the door, dude. I'm not fucking around. This isn't a joke. I want to leave."
*A divine spirit appears in front of you and offers his auspices: 'Lo, troubled one. I am Soberenius Abstaintus, Guardian of the Righteous. If thou art to escape this hole of hell, thou must be strong and true!'*
"I'll call the cops, Robbie. I don't have time for this shit. Hey, where the fuck is my phone?"
*A wise man once said...*
"Shit, come on man. Let me out. Give me my phone. Please, dude. I can't do this. I need to go. Please."
*...the road to salvation is paved with good intentions. If you are to redeem yourself, you must surrender your will to a higher power.*
"Fine. Whatever. What is it? What do you want me to do, Robbie?"
*The last remaining spell in your arsenal, the only one that has not been trampled by the rampaging effects of alcohol and sin, is Intervention.*
"Okay! I cast 'Intervention!' Please, please, I give up. Just stop this. Just make it stop."
*Great! I have the local rehab center on standby. Let's go! We can even bring the board.*
| 2016-04-08T10:55:13 | 2016-04-08T09:22:01 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Describe the person you love the most so we can see him/her through your eyes.
|
I could caress your amber-grain colored curves.
Your beauty is timeless even with your flour patted bottom.
Although you hate your oily blemished skin, with every look I love you more.
The red circles on the surface of your skin does not deter me, it motivates me.
I can only love you so much, however. You complete me but I do not complete you.
EDIT: forgot to include [**a picture of me and my bae**](http://www.pizzamarket.net/images/pizza2.jpg)
|
An insatiable vampire, preying on the emotions of the weak, and feeding from their life source. A noble heart trying to do the right thing amidst chaos.
A bipolar schizophrenic's soul ripped in two with voices constantly shouting at her.
I was the only one who could quiet the voices. I could see who she really was. She was beautiful.
| 2014-09-06T12:23:42 | 2014-09-06T10:22:37 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You are Cancer Man, a superhero with the power to induce malignant tumors in your enemies. 29 years into your job, you visit the hospice where the now terminally ill villains you defeated reside.
|
"They tell me you're the good guy."
Sam smiled at the nurse, that same smile that had been printed across the front page of newspapers everywhere. Wasn't quite as white, wasn't quite as big as it used to be. His name was Cancer Man then, not Sam.
"So I've been told," he joked but the self deprecating laugh died in his throat.
"I thought good guys were meant to save people." Her voice sounded almost like scolding. Sam shrugged.
"So I've been told." He meant for her to laugh. She didn't. Instead, she finished washing her hands and drying them.
"Mr Ice will see you now," she said and took him through the heavy double doors to a large room that smelled of stale chips, sweat and that familiar fake lemon smell of disinfectant. It was empty apart from a small, weak old man in a wheelchair coughing. He sat a little straighter as Sam walked over and covered his mouth with a tissue.
"I never thought I'd see you again, Cancer Man," he rasped, holding a finger over a small tube in his throat. "What can I do for you?"
"Call me Sam. I don't go by Cancer Man anymore. Not since... Well, my name's Sam."
The man who once tried to destroy an entire city with a freeze gun spat on the floor. Small globules of blood were mixed in with the flem.
"You're Cancer Man," he said. "You'll always be Cancer Man or have you forgotten what you've done?"
Sam didn't reply.
"Don't feel too bad. I heard good guys were meant to punish the bad guys. This is the worst form of punishment I could possibly imagine and I was meant to be the evil one." Mr Ice barked a humourless laugh causing him to wince and start a coughing fit. The nurse rushed over with a cup of water but he waved her away. "I guess you must be the best superhero ever, if you're so good at punishing the bad guys. You got Flame Girl, she died a few years ago. Mr Black killed himself after losing the ability to piss on his own. Lord Metal, he's gone. Stomach cancer. Weighed less than five stone at the end. Lost 20 stone. Lost everything, really."
"I know," Sam said. "Bad guys always lose."
"It wasn't just the bad guys, though, was it?" Mr Ice grinned without a trace of joy. "London, '99. "Collateral Damage" I think was the phrase. Over 20 innocent bystanders. More than 20 sets of hospital visits, vomiting, chemo, tears, operations, desperate oh desperate prayers and deaths."
Sam sat, solid and silent as a statue.
"We're not here to talk about old memories though, I'm sure. Why are you here?"
Sam smiled. It wasn't a happy smile.
"I have cancer."
|
The strangest thing about a hospice is the lack of sound. You would imagine that there would be beeps and buzzes like you hear in the hospital, but there are none. There is no clicking equipment, no coded messages over the intercom, no nursing staff rushing too and fro trying to complete their endless rounds.
People talk in whispers. They walk softly and with padded shoes. They slip in and out of rooms like a breeze caresses blades of grass ever so gently on a fine spring day.
They die with a death rattle.
This isn't what I imagined. This isn't what I had hoped for, each time I lashed out in anger and planted a seed in those I felt had wronged me or my employers. I often told myself that I was granting them a peaceful death, one that would take months or even years, giving them time to say goodbye to their loved ones.
I see now that I was deluding myself. I knew what I was doing. You can't go through life without hearing how terrible chemotherapy is, or radiation treatments, or invasive surgeries to remove indomitable tumors that refuse to die otherwise.
They call me a superhero in the papers. They're wrong. I'm not a hero. I didn't stop these villains out of any perceived sense of justice. I did it because the state paid me handsomely each time I did. I did it because I liked the fame and attention that it got me. It was all a lie. The only time it was the truth was when I did it in anger. I realize that now, as I look down at the desiccated face of my last victim, a man who was once supremely intelligent, perhaps capable of saving us from ourselves, now reduced to a husk merely waiting on the precipice of death for that one last push.
The brain tumor that I seeded in him destroyed his faculties, left him helpless and incapable. For the past nine months his family took care of him. They carried him to the bathroom when the chemotherapy made him weak and nauseous. They called the ambulance when he seized on the couch. They hid their tears when he tricked himself into believing there was a chance and he began talking about doing the things he never thought he had time for in the past. They listened with love when he tried to explain to his sons that he was going to die, and that they need to take care of their mother now.
This death isn't peaceful. He has suffered greatly because of me. His family has suffered, and will continue to suffer with his passing. All because I allowed them to tell me he was an enemy of the state.
Tears blurred my eyes. This man wasn't a villain, despite his misguided judgments and mistakes.
I was.
| 2015-02-24T15:19:06 | 2015-02-24T14:45:13 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell.
|
Of course in hindsight everyone sees the merit of my decision. In the early days though, people kept asking me why I chose Hell over Heaven. My answer has always been three words: "Location, location, location"...
Before my ticket was up on earth, I came to a realization... If everyone choose Heaven, Heaven would eventually become overcrowded. I mean idyllic pastures and tranquil rivers are nice and all, but if you have to share it with roughly 10 Billion other people... Maybe not so much. Can you imagine the waste problem? If you want to watch a football game, you need to first clear people from an area roughly the size of a football field. Plus, there really is not much beyond natural beauty up there.
So I made a decision, I moved in on the market early. Closed all the primo real estate I could all over Hell before there was a demand for it. Heck, those poor schmucks, the demons... They were so surprised that anyone wanted anything to do with Hell, they sold me the whole thing for a handful of colorful beads.
Later on they would also provide the cheap labor that I exploited in my sea-of-fire side casinos and river (Lethe is beautiful in autumn) side properties. I quickly dominated the market and soon became the land lord of hell.
True, the re-branding took some effort... People were reluctant to view Hell as a warmer alternative to the overcrowded paradise. I think it was all the entertainment venues that did it in the end. I was able to convince the "Blue Man" group and a few other performers in exchange for lofts overseeing Hinnom valley. Combined with the casinos and strip clubs, pretty soon Hell became the place to be.
That is when I stopped accepting just any old schmuck into the club. I am after all trying to cultivate a tasteful community down here. There were a few instances people even begged me to stop deportation to Heaven, but what can I say... Business is business.
|
*Day 1*
*You know, with all the terrible people in the world, I expected Hell to be pretty occupied and automatically chosen. But I was shocked after my bad car accident to find a choice between Heaven and Hell in the Limbo Waiting Room. Everyone was lined up for Heavenly Stairway and the Hell Slide was seemingly abandoned. Now, you'd probably think that I, being the good guy that I am, would pick heaven.*
*But I'm more of a fall-colour lover. I went down the Hell Slide which, admittedly, is very fun. I'd probably give it another ride if I could. Anyway, after that slide, I met the big man himself who was just about to close the slide. He hugged me with a big grin and gave me the tour. Now I'm next door neighbours with him. This is all happening so fast, so I might go to sleep. I'll talk more about Hell tomorrow.*
*Day 2*
*You'd think being in Hell is like a furnace you can't escape from, but it's actually very warm and cozy. Views aren't that bad either. As for Satan, he's a pretty nice guy. He likes going for walks with his dogs and cooking. And the beds are so soft. They even had secret cameras of Heaven. IT'S SO WHITE AND BLUE. IT'S LIKE A GODDAMN WINDOWS BACKGROUND. My eyes hurt when I looked at that. Me and him soon went and had some meaty ribs. Afterwards, we went to a nice farm he had.*
*They're all wrong. Hell is a great place. The demons are an upstanding community who like to party. Satan's a really cool guy and Cerberus is just a big lug. I'm going to really love it here.*
*Day 3*
(The rest of the book is burnt with unreadable text.)
| 2018-08-13T09:48:32 | 2018-08-13T08:57:53 | 155 | 53 |
[WP] You're Morpheus, God of dreams. You're in charge of creating all dreams of all human beings. You were always high as a kite since birth, with only short moments of sobriety and clarity. But for the last few days, you've been completely sober and people start to notice.
|
“I had such a strange dream last night.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it was really vivid as well. I still remember it pretty clearly.”
“So what happened in this exceptionally vivid dream of yours then?”
“I was at the office, giving a presentation in the big conference room downstairs...”
“And then you suddenly realised you were naked?”
“No, that’s just it. In the dream, I just… gave a detailed and clear presentation on the quarterly performance review. I had a really good slideshow and I even had a clipboard with some notes on it. The audience was engaged the whole time and everyone laughed at the jokes I had prepared.”
“Huh. Was that the whole dream or did something happen after that?”
“Well, that was one of the strangest things about it, actually. The dream went on for what felt like a couple of hours. And you know how in dreams you sometimes feel like time has passed but you don’t actually remember anything happening during that time? Yeah, this was not like that. After the presentation, I had lunch with Dave and Jennifer at the Italian place across the street. Dave had the seafood tagliatelle, Jennifer had her usual risotto and I decided to try the bucatini carbonara. It was delicious.”
“You remember all of that?”
“Yup.”
“Weird”.
“I know, right? Anyway, we finished lunch and had coffee before heading back to the office. Not long after I got back to my desk, I received a phone call.”
“Let me guess, it was something incredibly normal like your husband asking you what you wanted him to make for dinner?”
“Good guess, but no. It was some guy who introduced himself as - get this - Morpheus.”
“Really? Did you watch the Matrix recently or something?”
“No! I’ve been wondering how that name made its way into my dream all day.”
“So what did this Morpheus character want? Did he tell you to take the red pill so you could wake up?”
“Hah. He said he was doing a quality assurance questionnaire. I just assumed it was some new company review thing so I went along with it, but then the questions had absolutely nothing to do with the company.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“He asked me a bunch of questions about… my dreams. No, stop it, I can see you trying to think of an Inception joke, don’t do it.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You’re the worst. Anyway, the guy talking to me over the phone in my dream wanted to know all sorts of things about my dreams.”
“Like what?”
“How often I remember dreams on average, how often I would like to remember dreams, what I would consider a normal length of time to experience during a dream, some other questions like that. He also asked me to describe a perfect dream and the worst possible dream, then he asked me to rate my last three dream experiences on a scale from 1 to 10.”
“What the hell?”
“I know!”
“Why didn’t you start the story with this? This is so much stranger than the whole presentation and lunch thing!”
“I don’t know, I felt like that stuff was relevant”
“Whatever. Was that the whole dream? Do you remember anything else happening?”
“Just that Morpheus - please don’t look at me like that, I didn’t choose the name - ended our conversation by telling me I had been exceptionally helpful and that I should expect another call soon.”
“And then you woke up?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. That is somehow both the strangest and most mundane dream I’ve ever heard described.”
“Tell me about it. I-”
...
“Woah, who is that on caller ID? You just went pale as a sheet!”
“It’s, uh, nothing, I’m just, let me just take this outside.”
…
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Walker?”
“This is she.”
“Good afternoon. Is this a good time to conduct the follow-up to our recent quality assurance interview?”
“Listen, Dave, I don’t know how you set up a fake caller ID and what sounds like a voice modulator since this morning, but this is not funny. Did you steal my phone at some point today to add this number to the contacts?”
“My dear Mrs. Walker, I can assure you that this is no prank.”
“Not a prank, my ass. Who is this?”
“I am Morpheus, God of Dreams. We spoke last night. I’m afraid I have been lax in my duties for… well, forever. I am trying to change that, and I need your help. I understand that this may be confusing, so if I may invite you to meet me in person for our interview, I believe that might clear things up for you.”
“What kind of interview?”
“A job interview.”
|
A god doesn't get to choose why they're a god. Some gods like Dionysius lucked into the role of a lifetime. Gods like Hades received the short end of the stick. I count myself somewhere in-between. I'm Morpheus, God of Dreams, and I'm three days sober.
If it were my choice, I'd be the god of marijuana, because I know the topic well. In fact, I consider myself to be in charge of both dreams and marijuana. For me, the two go hand in hand. Each night, I smoke enough to fly me high above Olympus. While I'm asleep, aided by the leaf, I enter the dreams of the citizens. There's just nothing like the post smoking, sleep exploration. Then, like an idiot, I fell in love, and I made a promise. For her, I'd go a week without smoking. And what a horrible week it's been.
I think about smoking all the time. I can't sleep, my appetite is gone, and this constant headache won't leave. Worst of all, I haven't been able to remember entering the dreams of others. I'm the god of dreams, and I can't remember my own. So much for the power of gods, right? As I lay in bed, unsuccessfully trying not to think about being high, there is a knock at my door. I yell at the person on the other side to come in, hoping it was my lover. I look up to see one of Olympus's helper.
"Morpheus, you have an audience at the steps," says the helper.
"What do they want?" I ask.
"They're here to complain about their dreams," says the helper.
"I'm not in the mood to talk about how wild their dreams may be," I say. An audience at the steps is common, ready to complain about the perceived faults of any god. My biggest complaints usually pertained to the wild nightmares I created. Today, with another sober headache, I wasn't in the mood to entertain their worries.
"That's not exactly the concern."
"Then what is it?" I ask.
"They claim the dreams aren't wild enough," says the helper.
I stand from my chair, and regretted it the moment I was up. When I smoked, I never had problems standing up. In fact, I could fly higher than Hermes. Now, my headache weighs me down and my muscles are always sore. I walk to the steps of the Pantheon to examine what exactly this audience has to say. As the doors automatically open, I see hundred of humans waiting for me.
"What is your problem?" I ask. Naturally, as a god, my voice booms over theirs.
"Our dreams are no longer good," shouts a woman.
"Nonsense. I've never been in a clearer state of mind," I say.
"And yet I'm having the most boring dreams," says another.
"What exactly do you mean by boring?" I ask the man who shouted.
"Yesterday, I dreamt I was staring at a wall. Not once did I blink, or did I move my head. I simply stared at the stone wall, then some time later I woke up," says the man.
"A week ago, what was one of your dreams?" I ask the same man.
"One night, I dreamt of flying to a far off land, full of talking trees and walking leaves," says the man.
"And are you all having this problem?" I ask the audience. There are shouts of agreement.
"Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was laying in bed. Nothing happened, I just laid there for hours," says another woman.
Others were about to follow suit and share the vast expanses of their boring dreams, but I didn't have it in me to continue listening. I wave my hand before they could talk.
"And you would all prefer to return to the wild dreams of the past? Even the nightmares?" I ask.
"Anything would be better than staring at walls," says the original man. Everyone else also agrees.
A choice stands in front of me. For a single week, just one week out of an infinite lifetime, I told the love of my life that I wouldn't smoke. I could do that for her, for only four more days. And these people, they would forget in a month about the boring dreams, because everything would return to normal. Their nightmares and wild adventures would return. Everything was just four days away, which made the decision easy. I shouted into the crowd my answer.
"Anyone have a joint?"
---
If you enjoyed the piece, check out more of my writing at r/ThomasJustinian
| 2021-03-06T19:49:21 | 2021-03-06T18:16:10 | 162 | 52 |
[WP] Harry Potter is now based in Australia. All spells are based on Australian Slang. Hogwarts is in Kakadoo. Dragons are dropbears and Voldemort is a cunt.
Take it away!
|
"OI, YOU FUCKIN WOT MATE!?!"
"I. SAID. YOU'RE A BLOODY WIZARD YA NUMSKULL!!"
"OI WHAT??"
"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE YA BLOODY BOGANBLOOD, YER A DAMN FUCKIN WIZARD!!!!"
"OI BOGAN PRIDE HERE MATE, U LOOKIN FOR A FIGHT OR WOT YER HAIRY GORILLA????"
"HAIRY GORILLA!!?? OH THATS FUCKIN IT YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"
**"AVOCADO KOALA!!!"**
"OI WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?? YOU RETARDED OR SOMETHING??"
"AW SHIT IT DIDNT WORK, FUCKIN HELL... JUST COME WITH ME YER FUCKIN CUNT!"
~ 2 weeks later,
"OI OI OI, WHAT THE HELL IS HOG-WARTS?? WHAT KIND OF A SHITTY NAME IS THAT??"
"STOP BEING A CHEEKY LITTLE CUNT YA SMARTARSE, AH LOOK AHEAD! THAT"S OUR QUIDDIT- I MEAN CRICKET TOURNAMENT!"
"SO WHAT?? GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE SO BLOODY STUPID, SO, WHERE'S THIS DUMB-O-DORE DUDE IM SUPPOSE TO MEET??"
"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE I WISH YOU'LL JUST GET EATEN BY A DROP BEAR OR SOMETHING..."
|
"You're a wizard, Bruce" said Bruce looking directly into Bruce's eyes.
"I'm a what?" the young boy said back, his eyes fixed on the giant of a man as he downed a can of Fosters in three gulps.
After wiping his dribbling mouth on his sleeve, Big Bruce threw the can into the unlit fireplace.
"You're a wizard you deaf dick'ed!" he roared.
Bruce Potter stood back shaking. He'd never met such an ill tempered man in all his 11 years. "Cold, cunt?" Big Bruce lifting up his abnormally large didgeridoo and blowing down it.
instead of sound three bursts of bright orange and yellow flame shot out of the bottom and straight into the fireplace lighting it.
To the right, young Bruce could hear the faintest sound of drinking. He moved his eyes closer to the sound only to see Bruce Dursley drinking his birthday larger.
Big Bruce has seen too. "Oi ya dipstick, that's for Bruce!" Big Bruce bellowed as he readjusted his didgeridoo and with a puff of smoke Bruce began to scream and run away. "Pussy" Big Bruce muttered watching the fat boy run away clutching his new koala tail.
"Get it off!" demanded Sheila finally speaking up. Wrapping her long arms around her child. “Get if off!” She shouted again.
“It’ll come off after a week” Big Bruce shouted back laughing as he pulled out another can of Fosters and handed it over to Bruce.
| 2015-10-29T04:17:58 | 2015-10-29T04:12:18 | 158 | 46 |
[WP] Your significant other is possessed by a demon. Soon after; you realize you love the demon and not your SO anymore and it's actually mutual. Now the exorcist has arrived.
|
"Right then," the exorcist, a man in a black suit with a white clerical collar said as he walked in the door, closing it behind him, "Where is it?"
"What?" Ian said.
"Where is the demon? I was summoned here to perform an exorcism."
He looked at Ian a while, who remained silent, before eventually turning to Alex, who lay in the bed in the centre of the room, tied to the bedframe with sheets anchoring each limb.
"Is it her?"
"No, that's my wife. She's fine."
"Then what is she doing tied down like that?"
"She's on a diet."
"A diet?"
"Yes, you know -- it's one of those diets like Oprah Winfrey always goes on about, but instead of padlocking the fridge, she just ties herself up. I help a little of course."
"So you tie your wife down to the bed -- I'm sorry, is there some sort of sex play going on here?"
"No, nothing like that, father!"
"Ah, fuck off priest!" Alex said.
"I beg your pardon!"
"She just gets cranky when she's starving, that's all."
"Okay, so where is it? I mean, am I dealing with a possessed person here, or what?"
"Umm, it's me. The demon's inside me."
"Inside you?"
"Yes, that's right," Ian said as he stammered, "F-flip off f-father!"
The priest glared at Ian a while. "Mr. Pringle, I don't take kindly to having my time wasted. Now, if we're done here, I really should go."
As he turned to leave, Ian reached out and stopped him with his left hand, and then with his right hand he leaned back and slapped the man right across the face. He paused a second, before reaching into his pants pocket where he produced a handkerchief, which he used to dab the corner of his mouth, before placing it back in the pocket. He silently looked at Ian with cold blue eyes.
"Well, what do you think of that then?" Ian said, "Ya fecker!"
The priest put down his briefcase, and walked over to the night stand, where he retrieved a glass of water, while looking at Alex, who struggled slightly, before returning to the foot of the bed.
"Doesn't it have to be holy water?" Ian said.
"Silence, demon! The Lord God almighty commands you!"
While holding the glass of water with one hand, he took out a cross on a chain from around his neck with his other hand, and moved it from side to side on Ian's body, then up and down, and then muttered an unintelligible prayer of sorts, before retracting his hand with the cross, which he put inside the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He then threw the glass of water right in Ian's face.
"Do you feel better?" the priest said.
"Yes, father! It's amazing, I feel completely normal now..."
Before Ian could finish his sentence, he felt a stiff fist connect with his jaw, and he went down like a ton of bricks, and hit the carpeted floor.
"Good," the man said, before walking back over to the night stand, where he placed the empty glass. He picked up his briefcase, and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Ian and Alex looked at each other, stunned, as they heard the front door slam.
"Well, you deserved it for that fucking ridiculous diet story," Alex said.
Ian turned his head to look up at the ceiling, as he rested his head on the floor, and closed his eyes, falling into unconsciousness.
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Arthur knocked on the door, and waited.
This case was right up his alley. Woman reported a sudden change of personality on her husband, started seeing lights around the house and was sure she heard the man speaking tongues. She was worried he had been replaced , and wanted an investigator to come take a look.
Of course, rest of the folks on the PD laughed it off. Arthur didn't blame them. He was, as far as he knew, the only one on the precinct aware of the existence of the supernatural. Also, the only one who could summon and control thunderstorms. And fly.
That usually helped.
These sorts of calls were usually pranks. But Arthur knew what to look for when it was the real thing. Her statement was too coherent, the traits clear. That was either demonic possession by a being from the Abyss or a very drawn out stroke.
The door opened.
The man who opened it was not himself.
To the untrained human eye there was nothing wrong with him, other than the pornstache and the vest. But to Arthur's inhuman eyes, the deep thrumming of a not insignificantly powered demon's energy formed arches around the man's figure.
Arthur immediately outstretched his arm, pointing it directly at the demon's face. The air crackled with electricity, and energy arced through his fingers.
"This idiot won't be able to take all that, Conduit" the demon said.
"Sorry if I'm a bit overkill. Not keen on you and yours getting too near me".
"If you would please point that thing somewhere else, I imagine you'd be engrossed by my tale."
"As if I could forget. The woman is terrified, mate. You should be back at the Abyss. I know what happens to a human's soul after prolonged demon exposure. Is he even still there? Or you've had your fill?"
"He's not leaving" a third voice said.
The woman was young, pretty, and directed a terrifying glare to Arthur. She quickly put herself between the two of them, directly in front of a gigawatt of energy. Her aura was interacting most strangely with the demon's when they touched each other.
*Great, I'll have to call Rhea to wipe her* Arthur thought.
"Ma'am, your husband is about as dead as he can be. This one here is taking his body on a ride. You should probably back away."
"I know" she said " and please, if you see the ghost of Andrei, tell him to stick it. Bastard was going to kill me and claim insurance, before Azlral took his body. He saved me."
"If it's anything, I didn't get in him voluntarily" the demon said. "He was rummaging through the attic.and touched my soulstone. It wasn't my design. And me and Lily are getting quite close now that I've saved her."
"I tried to kill him" she said " and it turns out he... Enjoys that. After the third time I stabbed him I just thought to myself 'you know what, why not just talk to him'. We have a lot of common interests. And he's better than Andrei ever was at almost anything. He is NOT hurting anyone. Don't take him away" she added, voice cracking the fearless facade, "Please".
"You're marked" Arthur said, lowering his arm. "I'll be back for a deeper chat. Wait for me tonight at the rooftop, demon. There is enough trouble on this city."
"Yes, I could quite see that. The Night Queen, is that how she calls herself? We'll see what can be done."
Arthur grunted, and left.
This could be interesting.
| 2017-10-10T02:15:25 | 2017-10-09T15:40:03 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
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I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there.
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I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating so fast I'm afraid it'll fall of my nightstand. I groggily my phone before it falls and turn it on to see the words "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" in bright letters illuminated by the official nationwide alert backdrop. The vibrations refuse to stop. Hundreds of texts are rolling in from numbers I don't know so fast that I can barely make out what they're saying. I set my phone to silent and put it back on the nightstand. "Looks like a problem that can wait till the morning," I faintly think to myself before falling back to sleep. Nothing gets me out of bed at 3 a.m.
| 2022-06-27T10:58:59 | 2018-04-06T19:08:10 | 103 | 11 |
[WP] In a world where elemental magic affinity manifests on your 18th birthday, you and your family have always assumed yours would be water since you love waterfalls, lakes, rivers, etc. But when your time came, nothing manifested. And people are starting to get worried.
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When I was 8 years old my parents took me to see Niagra Falls. It was magnificent; truly breathtaking. The flow of the water changed so drastically, but was always the same at that point in the falls. That's when my mild interest bloomed into a healthy obsession.
In middle school I started researching not just the bodies of water in present time, but how they changed and evolved over history. The Amazon river, for example, twists and shifts like a snake over time. One, dedicated river was able to carve the most Grand Canyon in the world! And now even humans have the ability to bend rivers, move lakes, and harness power from dams.
I guess that's why everyone is afraid of me now. I was supposed to gain affinity with an element when I turned 18. They thought it would be water, and so did I. All the decorations were water themed, and because of my strong interest in the element the local mages guild was ready to take me on as an apprentice. Their most experienced water mage was ready to teach me, and things went wrong when I tried to bend the water in a lawn fountain.
It was the basic of basic magics, to alter the flow of a trickle of water flowing in my yard. I concentrated, imagining how it would move naturally over time; just like the Amazon. When I opened my eyes that small trickle I was concentrating on had moved, but so had the landscape around it. Flowers had sprouted, grew, and withered in mere seconds during my spell. I hadn't altered the flow of water: I had altered the flow of time.
That's when the whimsical expressions of the mages turned sour. They were afraid. I can't blame them, because I was afraid too. As they readied fireballs, electricity, and icicles, I bottled up. Curling into a ball, I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to hurt them. I didn't want to do anything. So nothing happened.
And nothing continued to happen. The mages posed in threatening positions, my party guests statued in fleeing arrangements, and the fear and horror were etched into my parent's faces. I didn't want to deal with all of this, so I walked away from it all. Maybe one day I'll be able to resume my natural flow, but today is not that day.
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Finding out an affinity is the most important day in a person's life, right after being born of course, and maybe marriage, and the birth of a kid, and perhaps death, or the death of your own parents. But it's right up there in the top ten or so. Fire was, for the longest time, the coolest, but a bunch of X-Men movies later having a metal affinity trumps fire. Earth was always base, and it's easy to feel sorry for the kids who get wood because it's super lame. But being super lame is way better than being aether, because you get to actually play on a team when you're a core elemental, but aether gets made the water boy, the line coach, the cheer squad, the bat boy, the ring babe holding the round sign. It is the gap fill of magic, and there're a litany of cruddy jobs that aether is destined to fill.
First, aether doesn't actually show up as anything, and it's not scientifically proven that an aether affinity is any different than no affinity at all. But here's the kicker, you can't just go form your own little clique and ignore everyone else, because the other elements need aether or they are pretty useless on their own, which brings up the second point. Two, you're forced to watch everyone else having the time of their lives and the only thing, the only single thing, they are interested in is that you don't wander out of the zone and mess up whatever it is they happen to be doing. But, let's face it, that is pretty funny when, as a practical joke, all the aether kids up and walk out of the big game and both sides suddenly find themselves without their elemental capabilities. It's funny until you get busted because it's pretty obvious who was involved, and so begins a long journey through life of being everybody's problem and nobody's solution.
Life just isn't fair sometimes. All you wanted was water, which is several degrees of lame already, and not only do you get aether, which is the universe giving you the big shaft, your snot-nosed sister gets metal, and that's just way not fair.
| 2019-09-16T11:00:21 | 2019-09-16T10:58:22 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?"
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Just another person in the crowd, the man in the long black over-coat moved behind the rotund man talking on his phone. In stark contrast to the fat-man's tottering, he seemed to glide as his coat lifted softly at the edges. Shadows lined his face bordered by long hanging hair not stirred by the breeze.
The screech of tyres. A scream. The phone sailing through the air as a voice rung out unanswered.
I watched as the gliding man stooped low to touch the twisted body of the fat-man, now crumpled beneath the front tyres of a bus. The air seemed to blur and flux as he closed his eyes, a sudden gasp rushing through the wind and into his chest.
He stood, and looked in my direction.
As the crowd resumed their movements, he approached me, his footsteps sure and silent.
"You can see me?" he said.
"I can," I replied, nodding.
He appraised me with a slight raise of an eyebrow over dark black eyes. Pulling something from his coat and checking it discretely in his hand, he smiled.
"You wouldn't be the first.....but this, this can't be right," he said.
"What?"
"It says you're not to die for another 3 thousand years."
Interesting. None before him had been able to read my date...he was growing in power, fast. He needed to be put down.
"Perhaps, but not for long." I said.
The hand busy placing the object back in his deep pockets stopped moving. His eyes locked on to mine, and everything became still.
I waited. Would he realise? Would he run?
A flicker in his eye. A twitch of the neck.
Through gritted teeth he spoke.
"You've come for me."
"Yes. Yes I have."
His eyes opened wide, "...but I am death himself..."
"You are a reaper of souls. A collector of power. The same as I."
"I will not let you," he said, taking a step back.
I smiled. I would give him a chance.
"Go. Collect as much as you need, it will not be enough. Today I will enjoy this place, and tomorrow...tomorrow shall be your end."
r/fatdragon :)
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As a nurse I had seen way too much weird things in the hospital. But when I saw the sharply dressed man with a name tag in his chest poking the body of a woman in the morgue, then I was sure I had seen it all.
"Excuse me?" I asked hoping he would stop poking the woman.
He seemed to ignore me as he focused in the clipboard he was carrying as he checked a pocket watch.
"Sorry, could you... stop poking that corpse?" This time the man looked around and pointed at himself.
"Yeah, I mean you." He blinked. It was then I noticed his eyes were like looking into an endless abyss.
Without warning he was in front of my face poking my chest.
"You are alive." No shit Sherlock.
"How can you see me then?" He gave a step back as I was confused, finally reading his name tag.
***Hello my name is: Grim Reaper.***
"Grim Reaper?" The man blinked.
"Just Grim... and you are July "Jules" Ross, twenty seven years old, currently without sickness though your eyesight is deteriotating... and will die in three thousands, one hundred and forty-one years... why I am chatting with you again?" The man spoke in a deadpan tone as he looked at his clipboard.
"Why are you in the morgue?" I asked pretty confused of the whole ordeal.
"Thats your question? You just met death and all you can ask is why I am in the morgue of a hospital?" I suddenly feel embarrased but then ask something else.
"If you are death... why come for her in the morgue?" He sighs and I can hear him call me stupid.
Jerk.
"Because this woman, Sarah Buvier, was alive until she died from her wounds inflicted in surgery by the doctor who decided to hide his mistake by sending to the morgue to die, making her the twentieth victim of the hospital to die in the morgue. But what does someone with your life span care of beings with such small lifes?" I can only get paralyzed of all this.
Suddenly the idea that I will die in three thousands years is small compared to the fact a doctor just killed a patient. And isnt the first time.
| 2020-01-24T12:09:05 | 2020-01-24T11:48:58 | 508 | 86 |
[WP] "Do not hang up. This is not a wrong number. We have your loved one. To see them again, get the package on your doorstep and open it. Put on the mask. Grab your choice of weapon. Go to the house address written on the note card. Kill them all."
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The doorbell rang.
I started counting- 1... 2... 3...
When I reached 10, I got up form the sofa and went to the door. There were two large boxes outside. I wanted to scream in rage but I kept my head and pulled the wooden boxes inside.
I opened the small one first and took out my son. He was tied up with nylon rope and seemed to be unconscious. I cut him lose and checked his pulse. 58. He would be okay.
Next I opened the large box. My wife, Clara, was tied up even tighter. Her pulse was steady as well.
One by one, I took them upstairs to their beds, cleaned them the best I could and tucked them in. They would be awake in about two hours, I had been told.
The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"They're fine, Brian. Just anesthetized. They were not harmed in any way."
"Yes. I know."
"You did an excellent job at the villa. You're a natural."
I said nothing.
"What would you say to doing it for money?"
"Fuck off!" I said, but the extra second I hesitated before saying it told the man all he needed to know.
He laughed. "Think it over, Brian. I'll call you later."
The call disconnected.
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Tiffany was doing the cooking for her children when the phone rang. Tiffany's husband was at work, *she thought*. She approached the phone slowly, staring at it. She reached for the phone and grabbed it.
*"Do not hang up. This is not a wro..."*
"Wait, what? Who are you?" Tiffany interrupted the low pitched voice behind the phone,
*"Hey! Fucking listen to me, we have your lov..."*
"Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? Please tell me who you are!!"
*"Shut up bitch, I'm the one who's talkin..."* the voice was interrupted again. He had a slight annoyment in his voice.
"**HOW DO YOU FUCKING DARE TO CALL ME A BITCH YOU FUCKING BITCH. SHUT UP PLEASE. I DONT EVEN KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE AND WHAT THIS SHIT IS!!**" Said Tiffany in a great rage.
*"Im done, fuck it"*. He had slammed the phone on the table, giving out a loud bang. He turned to the muscular men, dressed in a expensive suit, next to him. He shouted "Get her."
| 2015-01-26T09:45:53 | 2015-01-26T09:26:21 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] We expected the Earthlings to react with outrage and despair when we killed their leaders, destroyed their economies, and took over their governments—but to our surprise they seemed almost relieved.
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So... naturally people were pissed when the aliens said we would be slaves, but they wiped out our entire chain of command. Nobody was left to coordinate our resistance and it wasn't like they were out roaming the streets.
&#x200B;
Then the drones started flying around everywhere scanning people, and the work orders started going out. Many refused, so they were brought by force to their job site but the thing is... we all had jobs, and not only did we have jobs but we were good at them. I guess the aliens had some highly advanced technology which could determine the job for which we'd be best suited, and they weren't all bad. I mean, somebody had to do the horrible jobs but for the most part... i'm not sure what they think slavery means, because we all got to keep our houses. The people who didn't have homes had accomidations made for them and because we weren't exactly being paid we didn't need to worry about money or the economy. As long as we went to work we could pretty much get whatever we needed. Oh and you remember that 40 hour work week, just to make ends meet? Well... some people worked that much, some didn't, some fluctuated. It was talored for optimum performance. Personally, i'd work 40-50 hours a week for about a month, then i'd get a couple weeks off and wouldn't you know- by the time i was scheduled to come back to work i'd gotten tired of the pleasure sims and the enhanced VR games and i was ready to work with a passion.
I actually made an appointment to see a representative from the aliens, because at the risk of ruining a good thing i just had to ask "You people do know what slavery is, right?" what they told me was two fold, first "Your people have only engaged in a primitive form of slavery. As long as your evolutionary biology is so easily suceptable to basic reward mechanics you will remain enslaved." I paused for a moment, a tight frown creasing my forhead "So... what happens if we evolve beyond that?" The alien blinked two sets of eyelids "Then you wil be free, and you may choose to aid us in our work"
"Which is?"
"For now, i can not tell you. It would fracture your mind and the magnitude would evicerate your species, invalidating your biology and causing you to decend into chaos. As you can imagine this would be most unproductive for our day to day operations" Before i could ask any more questions the alien piped up "session concluded." and after that... i never could get another appointment.
&#x200B;
After a little advice from replies, i went ahead and made a sub, this, the second part, and a third part are all in r/eight216Stories any feedback is welcome. I'll be continuing to add to it as long as i'm feeling motivated to do so, i hope some of you guys check it out and enjoy.
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When we took over, we expected resistance. And we got it, but only for a short time. When we had killed the leaders, and taken over, they almost seemed relieved. There were some who fought, of course, but most welcomed us. We expected resistance, especially from the younger ones, but none came. The most known for fighting welcomed us, fighting with us instead of against us.
When we took some back to the ships, the young ones told us why. About the oppressive governments of the past, the discrimination, the fighting, the people who killed just because they wanted to, the horrible people who got away despite solid evidence against them. About how the older ones were stuck in this, supporting it, leaving their children to fight ever-losing battles just so some people got basic human rights.
About how costs had gone up, so that most young adults were barely able to survive week to week. About how people were starving despite there being enough resources, and how the government was doing almost nothing. About how children were being hurt and thrown out just for being unique. About how most children were being forced beyond their capabilities, becoming stressed and depressed, how horrible things were happening to them. About the stereotypes just because or reproductive organs. About how their home was dying and almost no one was helping them solve it. About all the evils of their world that they were left alone to fight.
And that was the present. When they began to talk about the past, it became even worse. They told about how people were killed for liking different people, about how those of different skin tones had been made into slaves, about so many horrible things. One thing that most had concentrated on, one that was almost universally known, was the Holocaust. How could someone be cruel enough to torture and kill others just because they didn't believe the same things?
It was a horrible tale, that just got worse the more people we talked to. Some of the older ones had the same views, and we met more and more as they were separated from those they knew, as though they had been hiding. But alas, there were those who still thought all those people deserved what happened to them, that horrible people were *right*. It had been a gruesome wake-up call.
We had heard stories, of course, from those sent undercover, of this place called Earth. But nothing had prepared us for the true thing. Nothing even came close to comparable. We were appalled at what had happened.
By the end, we were truly glad we had decided to take over. We were able to change things, and the people here seemed more happy than any of the undercover ones had seen before. We took that as a good sign. It was calm, for once. We ruled peacefully, but had no hesitation in punishing those who had done wrong.
We fixed things. And for once, all was calm, and all was bright.
Edit: Posting more eventually at r/Maddies_Safe_Place!
| 2020-10-10T20:57:50 | 2020-10-10T20:36:53 | 3,129 | 203 |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ.
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‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
|
Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug.
| 2016-11-01T07:09:00 | 2016-11-01T06:59:21 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] The bombs stopped falling. Slowly, you opened the bunker's door. You did not expect what you saw. Make it as scary as possible. Now, take this story and tell it to a five year old without frightening him/ her.
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Hey, *hey*, tch. What’d I say about going near the windows?
See the sun? We call that ‘twilight’. Can you say that with me? ‘Twilight’.
What happens during twilight? That’s right, we can’t go near the windows, okay, buddy? If I lost you I don’t know what I’d do. It’s just you and me out here, you got it?
Yes, that’s right. Daddy lost his fingers because he went too close to the window. I told you how that happened, right?
Sing it with me:
*Well I saw the thing comin’ out of the sky…*
Don’t want to sing? Come on, bud, this is important.
*It had one long horn and one big eye…*
You know the words, I’ve been singing this song to you ever since the *first* day out of the bunker. You’ve got to know what you’re dealing with out here, son.
Come on, sing to me. What’s out there?
Yeah, yeah! That’s right:
*It was a one-eyed, one horned, flying…?*
Come on, finish it for me? No, it’s alright. Daddy’s okay. Was just thinking about Mommy. She…
She went too close to a window, too.
No, no, daddy’s okay, daddy’s okay. Just finish the song, please?
Good:
*It was a one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater,*
*One-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater…*
A one-eyed, one horned, flying purple… *people* eater…
Sure looked strange, to me.
***
^**/r/NaimKabir**
|
My muscles tensed in anticipation of the explosions. As the whistling sound grew in intensity I knew the moment had arrived. We held hands and prayed while the children slept through their fiery pending deaths.
*SQUONKA SQUONKA*
What the hell?! The sound continued, sometimes close by, then farther away, but over and over that bizarre sound replaced the expected boom of the bombs as they dropped. It went on for what felt like hours before silence once more filled the air.
We crept towards the shelter doors, confusion mixing with dread as we threw the bolts and slowly pushed the doors open enough to peek through. What we saw haunts me to this very day. Instead of the ruins of our city, smoldering buildings and craters in the ground, what we saw chilled us to the bone. A flash of color at first, darting through the mist with an awkward gait. The low sounds of the horns and tittering evil laughter. Horrid smiles painted on white creamy flesh. Large, bulbous red noses that should have caused feelings of mirth, image ruined by the sharp teeth and bloodied mouths.
I will never forget the sight of thousands of clones of that evil, twisted persona, Pennywise. I knew that death truly had come to us all. Not the quick and painless kind, but true horror awaited those who stepped outside. One of the children pushed forward from the back trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.
I needed to give them their last moments without fear. "Oh child, it's nothing. Just a circus come to town and not the war after all. Go back to sleep while we handle this." It hurt, lying to a child.
| 2015-05-11T04:44:38 | 2015-05-11T03:25:56 | 413 | 61 |
[WP] “You’re not allowed to die, okay?” She makes you promise, tears still flowing down her face. That was 200 years ago now. You don’t know what she did but your promise still holds strong.
|
Here’s the little story that spawned this prompt!
It’s 1692 - the height of the witch hunts. They never really bothered me, living way out on this farm, miles from the village. I just tended my sheep, looked after Candice (my cow), and relaxed with Sam (best friend a man could ask in a dog)
It was a normal day like any other, when I noticed Sam glancing uneasily at the barn. Sam was a rugged dog so it was surprising to see her looking so frightened. I decided to give it a look, so I walked on over, grabbed the pitchfork resting against the wall, next to the door, and pushed my way in.
And boy if I tell you I never expected what I saw in there.
A girl, as far as I could tell, my age, around 23 or 24 summers old. She was wearing nothing but a sack with some holes punched in, and was dirty as all hell.
Aside from some light bruising on her legs, she looked fine, aside from the fact that she was clearly unconscious.
I decided to do the right thing and take her in, washed her up some, put some of old me’maws clothes on ‘er (didn’t fit too well, she was a large lady she was) and set her down on the bed. Sam wouldn’t go close to her though. Just stared from across the room.
Fast forward to the next day, and what will you know, bolt upright she sits, wildly taking in her surroundings with wild eyed fear. She sees me sitting at the table eating some lunch and zeroes in on the food. I never let her forget about how loud her stomach rumbled right then, I swear to this day it echoed in the trees outside.
“What some?” I ask, not pausing while I eat.
A full minute ticks by in silence before she nods quickly and I point at the plates in the kitchen.
“Help yourself”.
———
That was the start, that day. Of how I met, and eventually fell in love with Melissa. The girl I found in me barn.
We got married the very next spring, a lovely affair in the closest town, flowers and food, the works.
It was a few months after that they came.
———
I’m standing on the porch, Melissa is behind me, looking scared but defiant.
The thirty odd men in front of me had just concluded reading out their “proof” that my near and dear wife was a witch.
I told them that I wasn’t having any of it.
I knew it would lead to violence. I didn’t mind, I was ready to protect my wife.
Ten or so of the men leapt at me.
I won’t describe the battle in detail - truth be told I don’t remember much of it - but it was bloody, hell, Sam and even Candice joined in, going at it.
In the end I killed probably four of those men, but they hit a bad blow, got a hole right under my heart I did.
My memory gets real hazy here, I remember looking up and Melissa’s face filling my vision. I remember her tear streaked face as she shook my shoulders, before yelling pretty darn loud;
“You’re not allowed to die okay?! Promise me!”
I meekly felt myself agreeing, didn’t want to let her down right at the end.
She smiled at that and then my memory cuts out. I woke up probably a week later, about ten miles from my farm, which was now a smoking ruin.
Didn’t even have a scar on my chest.
That’s how it started anyway. After that I kind of just wandered. Took me a couple days of walking before I realised I wasn’t thirsty, or hungry. Or even tired.
Took me about a month to find out I couldn’t even be injured too, after slipping into a canyon and not even getting a scratch.
Now after 326 years, although it became apparent much earlier than this, it’s clear I’m unable to die, not until my wife lets me.
Too bad she died way back then, turns out the men came back after I was unconscious and burned her, and my home, to ash.
So now I’m stuck, unable to age. Or get injured. Just living.
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!!!!
|
Ben rose from the grave. He felt pain, but the tears stopped flowing years ago. They stopped after he lost everyone he loved and knew. And it all stemmed from his daughter's last day on earth.
-----------
"You're not allowed to die, okay daddy? You can't. You have to take care of Laura. I know she's married and all, but you have to take care of her. This will be really hard on her."
"Okay baby girl, I won't. I love you Lizzy, oh God why does it have to be like this?"
"It's okay daddy, I'll be alright. I'll be better soon" She said, tears streaming down both of their faces.
-----------
That was 216 years ago.
Ben didn't know what had happened until long after that day. He still didn't know why it had happened. He collected himself and rubbed the broken blades off grass off his jeans. "Damn" He muttered to himself. "Those are gonna leave a stain". No time to clean them either, he was already going to be late.
He rushed through the cemetery and got in his car. It only took him half an hour to get across the city, not bad, the traffic was good.
"There you are Ben, you're late!" The young woman said with a wide smile
"Yes yes, I know, I was visiting Lizzy. My apologies Katherine." Ben said, forming a weak smile.
"That's quite alright, there's still plenty left to do!" She gestured to the door of the soup kitchen.
As they entered the smell of broccoli and cheddar soup hit Ben's nose, it was Friday, so of course it was broccoli and cheddar. He put on the apron that was hanging behind the door and began serving. It didn't take long for him finish the serving, it was a quiet day as far as the soup kitchen was concerned. Then he began his cleanup routine with Katherine, making small talk all the while.
"It's getting to be that time of the year again, it's getting cold." Katherine said.
"Well that means business will be booming" Ben said with a soft chuckle.
Katherine smiled at him, a smile that wasn't too wide or too cheery. Just a soft and kind smile. "I can see it you know." She said, the smile fading a little, replaced with just a hint of pain.
"See what?" Ben said, a little put off
"The pain in your eyes." Katherine replied gently. "I know you miss her Ben, I'm so sorry."
"No, you don't need to be sorry, you didn't give her the tumor. It's just you remind me of her you know? And sometimes I don't know what I'm doing with my life now that she's gone." He had hid the truth from Katherine, now the *everyone* is gone.
"I know Ben. Have you ever read The Lord of the Rings?" She said softly.
"No, was never my kind of book."
"In it, a character tells the wise wizard that he wishes that something had never happened. Do you want to know what he said?" She asked him. "'So do I,' he said, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.'"
"That's touching Katherine..." Ben muttered, tears starting to well in his eyes.
"You are doing a lot of good in this world Ben. Your time is valuable to these people" She said, tears rolling down her face as she placed a hand on his cheek.
"I certainly have a lot of it don't I?" He made a painful smile.
They both laughed a bit wiping the tears from their face and then finishing the cleanup. And so every day Ben would come to the kitchen and work, it was the least he could do with his time here. Make something good in the stead of something terrible.
---------
Thanks for reading, as always feel free to give feedback. This was a follow up to a bit I wrote yesterday on a different prompt because I liked the characters.
You can read that here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7o0ik9/wp_you_have_lost_the_ability_to_be_wrong_you_find/ds6jt6n/
| 2018-01-05T13:45:13 | 2018-01-05T12:14:21 | 78 | 49 |
[WP] You are possessed by a demon. It doesn't control you, but it does mention it's just there because it doesn't want to go back to hell.
|
"Are you kidding me? No! No! No!"
Fred heard the voice in his head and mentally groaned. Moloch, or the thing that called itself Moloch anyway, was surprisingly shrill when he wanted to be.
"Fred, no. Don't you dare do it. I'll help you think up some awesome revenge on that bitch. Remember, I'm all evil and stuff so I'll be amazing at it, I promise."
Fred wiped some tears from his eyes.
"I don't want to hurt her. And why do you care? If I kill myself I'll go to hell, right? Wouldn't that make your boss happy?"
"No, listen to me, dude. Hell sucks. You don't wanna end up there. And if you kill yourself I'll have to go back too, and I really really don't want to go back. Please! You're not thinking straight. Just sleep on things, okay?"
Fred rubbed his temples. His head hurt. His heart hurt. It hurt more than it had ever hurt before. Since Dana had left him three days ago he'd been a complete mess.
"But she's the love of my life."
"You're only eighteen. Every kid thinks their first love is the love of their life. The pain will pass. Take it from someone who's literally a thousand times older than you are."
"I'll never find anyone else like her," Fred sniffled.
He could hear Moloch sighing, although it came out more like a hiss.
"No, you won't. But you'll find someone better, who'll love you back. And even better, I'll be there to help. I'm great at seducing people...I've been doing it for millennia."
Those words made Fred feel a tiny glimmer of hope. He sat up in bed for the first time all day.
"Things will be ok. Trust me. I'm gonna be there for you. I didn't go to all the trouble of possessing you all those years ago just to have you off yourself, not if I can help it."
The boy blinked a few times in confusion.
"I don't understand. I'm not special. What do you get out of it?"
He could feel Moloch smirking.
"Fred, you spend most of your time watching either TV or stupid videos on the internet. You're my dream job, so I'm gonna milk our time together for all it's worth. If I'm lucky I'll get to goof off for another 50 years before I have to go back to actual work."
|
The slow hiss in his ear sounded distant at first. It sounded like somebody left a tea kettle on the stove too long. That was impossible though, Tim didn't have a tea kettle. Tim also lived alone. The hissing stopped. Pop!
Tim's eyes shot open, but he was unable to move. It wasn't that he was paralyzed with fear, it was that it felt like a gorilla was sitting on his chest. While Tim was wrong about what was on his chest, he wasn't wrong about the fact that something was on his chest. It just happened to be something otherworldly.
"Hello Tim" said a disembodied voice. This, of course, startled Tim, who once again attempted to sit upright but failed.
"Oh, sorry. I could see how this would cause panic. One moment."
The voice suddenly became bodied, and a rather large demon appeared before Tim's eyes. This time he was paralyzed with fear.
"Hmm, yes. I guess that does make sense" the demon said as he stood - the weight finally lifted from Tim's chest. "Its all of those Hollywood movies you humans are creating these days about us. You know, we are not ALL like that, right? Its a stereotype and I wont stand for it."
Tim began to sputter out sounds that sounded like the attempt of words.
"Don't worry, I am not here to posses you or torment you or anything. I am not that kind of demon. We are just as varied in our professions as you are. Say, what do you do for a living?"
Tim finally gained enough composure to stammer out one word. "A-acountant."
"Ah yes!" the demon chuckled to himself. "I remember when that was created centuries ago as a form of torture - those were simpler times! Oh, and earlier when I said I wasn't here to posses you, I was lying. I am here to posses you. At least those are my orders from down stairs."
Tim, who finally managed to sit up, began to whimper again. A wicked smile graced the demons face.
"Don't you worry, I wont be doing any possessing. I always fancied myself more of an artist anyways. However, I can only not posses you under one condition."
Tim raised his eyebrows, coaxing the demon to speak.
"We need to be roommates. I am never going back to hell!"
| 2016-07-21T20:15:20 | 2016-07-21T17:56:29 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?"
|
“Punnen! Punnen it burns!” his wife screamed in agony. The sores had begun to cover her face...the same sores that had plagued him for the last couple of weeks.
Punnen kept his eyes on his work. Doing his best to drown out the intruding sound, he continued pruning back the overgrowth in his prized garden. It was hard work, keeping his plants trimmed this meticulously. No one understood. No one but Punnen.
“You slept with her didn’t you,” she spat, “that seed vendor from the market? The one you are always carrying on with?” She began to cry softly.
“I am so sorry,” Punnen said slowly, his voice but a whisper. “I just couldn’t help myself.” He gestured toward the corner of his garden at a small sproutling. “I am a man who takes what he wants, and as a result I now have her peas.”
“You... you, did all of this... for a pun?” she managed, her voice wavering.
No... Punnen tended.
|
"Oh dear, you are making food tonight?" Ino asked as she arrived home from work.
"Yes, today is a special occasion," Thomas responded with a grin.
"Oh? What is it?" Ino wondered, she walked behind Thomas and put her hands around him, kissing his ears.
"I have something to tell you. You'll find out soon, I am almost done," Thomas said, not revealing what was inside the pot, under the lid.
"I will look forward to it," Ino said as she blinked and left to change clothes.
Soon she came back and took a seat at the table. Thomas came back and opened a wine bottle, poured some wine into her glass and then revealed pasta under the lid.
"Oh? Pasta? Surprisingly simple after all the hype," she said with a surprise, head a bit cocked.
"Ino. Your father always loved my pasta. He pasta way."
The silence took the room.
"You... you, did all of this... for a pun?"
----
/r/ElvenWrites You can't pasta opportunity!
| 2018-02-05T07:14:32 | 2018-02-05T06:41:53 | 663 | 114 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
"The international community hereby charges you with War Crimes committed during the defeat of the so-called Islamic State. On your orders, a brutal campaign of destruction, fear and even forced conversions were taken place. Even civilians were not exempt. It says here that several mosques were torn down, often with people still inside them. Forced confessions of 'dealing with demons' gained through torture were obtained. Frankly I could go on for hours Mr. Felipe, but I would rather not. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The man leaned back into his chair. He took a moment to compose his thoughts before rising.
"Your honor, the proper term of address is 'Your Majesty.' I do not accept the change to the constitution. And as to the charges, I did indeed order every one. I simply ordered what needed to be done." This statement elicited a gasp from the members of the press. The man began again quickly, before he could be interrupted.
"You all saw the Islamic State and saw just another terrorist organization. I saw a rebirth of an old enemy. It was if Carthage had risen again from Libya and wished to wage war against Italy. So I had to fight fire with fire so to speak. The methods used were tried and true against just such an enemy in my own country centuries ago. They wished to fight a religious war, so I gave them one."
The crowd was dead silent. Nobody had any idea what to say. But the man on trial just smiled.
"Besides, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
|
American efforts against ISIS had failed. ISIS had toppled local governments and taken them over. Claiming most of the Middle East. Many countries themselves had made agreements with ISIS in order to try to secure themselves so that they would not be toppled as well.
America was the last to stay in the fight, but American government had finally decided on a full retreat. The retreat would happen the next day, and Platoon 608 was the last ditch effort. This was an assassination attempt on the ISIS leaders.
Platoon 608 stood on top of a building in the new ISIS capital, where nearby a speech was being given. They were lined up to be a firing squad, it was a suicide mission.
As the Platoon sat there, hoping that they could maybe make it out of this alive. They heard a clapping. They figured the speech must have been over. But an hour later there was still clapping, and it has immensely grown in volume.
The major ordered them to stay where they were with their scopes in place, they were not to move. Eventually one of them gave in to the curiosity, and looked towards the direction of the clapping.
What he saw left him frozen in shock. There were atleast 100,000 men on horses, and they wore the maple leaf and guns. The clapping had been the horses drawing near. They all wore the insignia of the Maple Leaf.
The Canadian Calvary had arrived.
| 2016-01-29T10:18:49 | 2016-01-29T06:44:06 | 389 | 25 |
[WP] You can teleport your SO anywhere instantly, and your SO can do the same for you. One day you get in an arguement.
|
"Where is she?"
Its been four days since I've seen my wife. And I'm worried sick. Not the "I hope she didnt get into an accident" kinda sick. But I would describe it more of an "I hope this isn't going to be the end of our relationship" kinda sick.
&#x200B;
I sit down on the couch in our living room and look around. Everything just reminds me of her. The frames on the wall. The plastic edge that's still on our television since the day we bought it because she thought "it looks like its still new". Even though our TV only gives standard HD and everything nowadays has 8K or something.. I'm not that tech-minded.
&#x200B;
I let out a deep sigh as I lean back and now stare at the ceiling. White, a single string of spider silk is hanging on our lamp. Briefly I forget about the issues between my wife and I and I wonder: "Where's the spider?"
&#x200B;
This has to end... I decide I'm not gonna keep waiting and start preparing the perfect make-up dinner. So I can teleport her back to me and suprise her with her favorite dish, which is spaghetti bolognese.. It also happens to be my favorite dish, so I got that going for me. I think with some wine and hopefully a good conversation where I can apologise that we finally can leave this argument behind us.
&#x200B;
I clean the house as quickly as I can. Set the table, go groceryshopping.. Even though I'm busy with all of the preparations I cant help but wonder if it'll be enough to make amends. I really did screw up though.
&#x200B;
When I set everything ready I decide to look at the clock. Its nearly seven in the evening. Well its now or never.
&#x200B;
Just as I set my mind on her and decide to teleport her infront of me I feel engulfed in the most known, warmest and most comforting feeling. I blink and as I open my eyes I find myself on the beach. I remember this place, this is where we said yes to each other.
&#x200B;
As I turn around I see my wife, behind her a table with two plates of spaghetti. I smile as some tears start forming..
"I missed you"
|
The frigid air stabbed with each breath. My feet were quickly growing numb in the icy snow. We glared at each other as we both shivered intensely. Several Sherpas and their clients passed us by, looking at us strangely, like they couldn't understand why a young couple would be standing in bathing suits near the summit of Mt. Everest.
Finally, I broke down.
"Diane, w-we have t-t-o go b-back. We'll d-die here." My teeth nearly broke due to their chattering.
"Then s-say your s-s-orry!"
"Okay! I'm sorry! Let's g-g-go!"
Suddenly I was standing on a beach with white sand and calm, clear waters. I could feel my feet thawing as I dug them in the warm sand. The Bahamas, probably. Diane loved it there. Shit!
With a simple thought, I teleported her beside me. I felt a draft of cold air leap off her as she stood, still shivering.
"You asshole! You left me there!"
"I did not! You're right here!"
"You forgot about me, you always do this!"
"Diane, I could't help it! You put me there in the first place. What did you expect? My brain needed to thaw."
A couple of women in bikinis walked passed us, staring at us in the midst of another verbal altercation. We had grown accustomed to strange looks as we often found ourselves out of place.
"I can't take this anymore, Ryan. We're done."
"What? You're ending this, after three years of our lives invested together?"
"Let's just get out of here and move on."
I expected to be teleported back to our apartment, but we just stood in front of each other. Awkwardly.
"... why haven't you sent me back yet?" I asked.
"I'm... I'm trying. It's not working!" she replied.
"Oh shit, we can only teleport our SO... but we just broke up. We're stuck here! What have you done?!"
"We'll just have to... buy plane tickets I guess," Diane said in a resigned tone.
"At least you didn't dump me on top of that fucking mountain."
&#x200B;
| 2019-03-23T09:09:52 | 2019-03-23T07:06:48 | 199 | 70 |
[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.
|
“Thank you for calling ‘Mercs, Thugs and Goons, Inc.’ my name is Lateesha, how can we help today.”
“Hi, my name is Doom, The Deathbringer, and I was hoping to hire a few…”
“I’m sorry hun, can you please spell that name for me?
“Doom! D-O-O-M; Deathbringer as the last name!”
“Thanks sugar, and how can we help you today”
“well, I’m building up my underground Evil Lair, and I need to hire security guards, would you be able to help?”
“Sure honey; how many guards?”
“ugh….I’m not sure how many I’ll need actually; I was hoping you guys would have some sort of packages I could look into???”
“well, we have the 20-man-team of goons that can do security as well as minor HQ maintenance; if you’re looking for a more comprehensive package, we have a 150-men platoon special, that we’re also including 2 elite-trained units to assist with command.
Mythical units have a 25% surcharge. As you mentioned it’s an underground lair, we have a team of highly enervated mole people, who may prove handy.
We have stand-alone teams of thugs; armed or unarmed; prices vary based on gang size.
Our professional assassins are currently out-of-stock; we have a shortage of highly-trained agents after they were killed by one of them vigilante types; our current agents are all booked up until after the holidays.
If you need help setting up engineering and applied science divisions, we can refer you to our sister-company ‘Mad Science for Hire, Ltd.’”
“Oh, I see! This is all way more complex than I first thought, I think I’ll have to make some calculations, talk to my wife..I MEAN, MY EVIL COHORT!! And make some financial decisions here! Do you guys have some sort of brochure, or catalog??”
“Sure sweety, you can visit us at www.totalylegalhiring.net, you can fill out a request form once you’ve made your decision. Thank you very much for your call, we’re here 24/7”
|
“Hello. Thank you for calling Delinquents for Miscreants. They do the crime, you'll avoid the time. How can we help you today?”
“Yes, I'm looking for at least a dozen of your delinquents for an upcoming act of crime I'm about to commit.”
“What kind of delinquent are you in need of”
“I'm pretty open to whatever I can get. Are you running any specials?”
Ugh, another cheapo lowlife. Maybe he won't be as rude as the other ones of his type tend to be.
“Well, we've had a recent run on most of our delinquents we can provide at our special rates. The least expensive fellows we have are third-of-their-class graduates from Wisconsin's Plugger Academy. Each of them run about 50 grand.”
“50 grand? That's a bit pricy.”
“That's the best rate we have right now sir.”
“You sure?”
“Yes sir.”
“I really can't afford a dozen at that price. I called you guys first because my bud Electro had a good experience with you all. I think I'm going to try to hire some thugs through Thugs-R-Us. Have a good day.”
I hear the phone at the other end click.
Ugh. Fucking Thugs-R-Us. Ever since they opened, they have been undercutting our business. We're barely getting by. To be honest, I don't even know how we are still in business with them around. Fortunately, as Thugs-R-Us's thugs are constantly booked, we get just enough bad guys who hire from us to stay in business.
This job doesn't pay much as clients who utilize us are down, but the hours are good, and it is enough for me to get by.
My wife doesn't know I rent goons to wannabe super villains, I tell her I'm a banker. She doesn't ask too many questions. I lead a relatively normal life outside of aiding in crimes that can often result in murder.
I wonder who is going to be voted off the island tonight. I hope it's not Marcus. He's the only person that makes the show bearable.
| 2017-03-23T09:59:46 | 2017-03-23T08:00:19 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You wake up in Hell. You look around, you can't see anybody, it's just fire and brimstone going on forever. Eventually the Devil walks over and says "Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?"
|
I come to, remembering the delirium of my last days with perfect clarity. But my body doesn't ache. For the first time in months, there's no nausea, no exhaustion, no pain. It's confusing for a moment.
But only a moment, because then it hits me. Where I am. Fire and brimstone, rivers of blood, darkness, et cetera. The whole nine yards, as they say. Minus the screams of the damned, however, which I must say I find rather surprising, given the rest. I run my hand across my scalp and discover the old mop of fine, brown hair, formerly lost to the chemotherapy and now suddenly and inexplicably back in attendance
"Fuck," I say.
"Something wrong?" comes a voice behind me.
I spin around. Well, if I'm being honest, I jump about four feet out of my skin, land awkwardly, and then spin around. After righting myself, I am somehow not surprised to see Satan. Or to be precise, I am somehow not surprised to see a humanoid with red skin, cloven hooves, horns, and a barbed tail. However, as I am not, at the moment, familiar with the demography of Hell, I can only assume this satanic-looking fellow is, in fact, Satan.
"I suppose I didn't expect to be here," I say.
Satan arches an eyebrow. "You thought you'd end somewhere more ... celestial?"
I shake my head. "I didn't expect to be *any* place," I reply, "I rather expected oblivion. But if there is an almighty deity, then I shouldn't be surprised He sent me here."
"You should be," Satan says. "You're the only one He's ever sent here."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, aside from me. But yes, the good Lord has never condemned any other human soul to Hell besides you. Between you and me, I expect it was the Mother Teresa bit that broke the camel's back."
I can't help but emit a snort of derision. "That cow. I wouldn't take back a single word. So she's up there, I take it?"
Satan nods. "Along with Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and Pol Pot, among other notables. Forgiveness is a rare and special thing," he says, positively dripping sarcasm. "Even Henry Kissinger is guaranteed a spot when he dies."
A sardonic smile creeps across my lips. "Well, at least I'll be spared ever having to see him again. Thank God for small favors."
"Indeed," Satan agrees.
"So what now? Am I to be tortured eternally?"
"Goodness no," Satan says, looking, I admit, somewhat offended. He then glances around, and his demeanor softens. "Ah, the decor is rather grim. I can see how you might have come to that conclusion. It's a reflection of my state of mind, unfortunately. I've been in solitary confinement quite literally for aeons. Angels are built rather differently to humans, but eternal loneliness wears on even such as us. Speaking of that, I'd appreciate it if you could brighten it up a bit."
"What? How?" I say, genuinely puzzled.
"Just wish for something. Want something. This is all ... well, there's no real word for it as you'd understand. Let's call it primordial matter. All of this is built from primordial matter. It can be shaped by thought. Try it."
Seeing as there's nothing to be lost by giving it a whirl, I close my eyes and concentrate. When I open them, there's a lit cigarette in one hand and a a lusciously full cocktail glass in the other. I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale a glorious lungful of tobacco smoke, and then take a sip of what is possibly the most perfect gin martini I have ever tasted.
Satan laughs with a sudden exhalation of pure relief. "Seems like you've already got the hang of it. So, what would you care to do next?"
"Well," I say, taking another sip, "if we've both been condemned to an eternal party, what say we make it a *good* one?"
The landscape around us brightens and begins reworking itself into something resembling a London park on a lovely spring day. Satan nods with approval. There's hope -- dare I say even joy -- in his eyes. "That's the best idea I've heard in ages, Mr. Hitchens. Count me in."
"Please, if we're going to be friends, you should call me Chris."
*In memoriam 1949-2011*
|
I blinked, and I blinked again. Never in all my existence have I perceived a place such as this. It was the deepest black you could imagine, it was as though the world was covered in a stifling black tar that sucked the light out of your very eye sockets. Yet, I could see, I could *perceive* at least, the fires, black and silver tendrils licking the sky, consuming the energy around them. I could feel the pits filled with hot pitch, bubbling and frothing eagerly, wanting millions of damned souls to eat and savor their pain. It was cold here as if I had no energy left to do anything, it sapped away my strength, the fires swallowed my heat, and the pitch eagerly awaited my soul. It was then that I noticed a familiar fellow standing but a mere hundred meters away.
"Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?"
I looked at this figure, the Devil as my children had called him.
"I - I don't know really. I was weak, I was fading, sickly, laying there as my own family watched. They were dying too. It was a sad scene, as though a great plague had beset us, a plague such as the one hit Europe in the old times. We were all weak, all surrounded by the most comfortable of places, a serene white room, sterile and happy. We were not happy, in stark contrast we were poor, and sobbing, and so alone. I didn't know what it was to die. If I had, I would not have doomed so many, I would not have forsook so many, they were all scared and now I was too."
"Yes, it is always frightful, the feeling of helplessness, as if you have no control over your own being. I know that feeling all too well."
I looked at the Devil, he was a handsome man, not fitting the descriptions that so many have attached to him. He had no sense of slyness, no sense of hatred or malice. He was not angry, he just had a darkness to him. As though it was a duty he felt in his soul he had to do. It was his duty to keep the millions of forgotten souls, and he would do this duty to his best of ability because he had to, not because he wanted to.
"Surely I'm not the first. There must be generations of mal contented people who came before me. Or is this to be my torture, to be loved by so many in life, so now I am to wander alone in solitude for eternity?"
"I assure you," the Devil said, "you are the first. I was hoping you would have known why but it appears that I must tell you. You created this world to surround yourself with people who loved you, you let it flourish and grow, you then grew tired of it. You let it disappear, the people who loved you felt that you had grown distant from them, they felt afraid because the only thing their children knew of you was your wrath. I had felt that wrath, personally. Father, I must confess, of all the people who should have arrived here, I am quite pleased that it is you."
I sighed, my shoulders suddenly heavy. I knew what had happened.
"I know who I am and why I am here. The people in my world, in my universe, they loved me, they adored me, worshiped me. I was their god, and I was a good god. I forgave and let them repent, I brought everyone into heaven. Yet, it was only those who believed in heaven. You see, it was their belief that gave me life, gave you life. As they stopped believing it became so I was to die. As I was fading away I realized how scared, how terrified I was. I had unleashed plagues, diseases, terrible maleficent creatures, cancers, floods, and storms. I was wrathful and vengeful, I would smite those that hated me and only loved those who loved me back. I was not a benevolent god, I was a malicious one. As I was dying I realized all I had sinned, and for how long I had sinned. I realized there was one place for me to go. It was that belief, so strong it was, that gave you the life you needed to surpass mine. You knew this day would come didn't you?"
The Devil paused in contemplation then answered, "I had my suspicions."
I looked at the world he created, I saw it's real beauty for what it was. It was efficient, it was perfection. I would have been proud of my son had I not been so narrow minded. "I'm sorry my son."
"Thank you father, but the time for that is over."
| 2015-04-09T11:30:16 | 2015-04-09T10:44:44 | 32 | 21 |
[WP]As Pride Month nears it's end, the other six members of the Seven Deadly Sins begin to wonder when they'll get months dedicated to them. Pride, meanwhile, is just trying to get them to understand that he's not actually the focus of Pride Month.
|
"Go on, look. See, I told you, a whole month, all for me. And furthermore, have you seen the parades they hold for me?" Pride beamed at his 'followers' as he looked over them from his penthouse suite. He was staying there to observe his month of focus, a truly remarkable act from these humans. With him were the other 6 of the 7 deadly sins, and each of them was mulling this over in their own way.
"This is fucking BULLSHIT. I have done NOTHING but influence every single FUCKING human for, oh I don't know, eternity, and all I get is, oh look: FUCKING NOTHING AT ALL." Wrath fumed as he looked down at the people on the street. "They look way to fucking happy for it to be pride, they must be feeling something else...almost looks like...no yeah...they do look proud. FUCK."
"All I know is that they are showing enough skin, they may as well be celebrating Lust month." Lust stood looking out the window. She had stopped loquaciously describing lavish lewd thoughts to exclaim this small truth. "Honestly, its like I'm there reveling in the debauchery."
"No, no, look in their eyes. They are truly proud, albeit a bit under dressed, and showing their deep understanding of what that means! And look, I mean just look at their confidence! Normally when I choose a color, I try to be a little modest, only choosing what obviously looks best on me: Reds, blues, summer and winter colors, etc... But they, bless their souls, they decided that what better way to be proud than to just take all the colors!" Pride was beaming as he looked over the parade.
"Yes...I've been thinking about that. Taking everything from others...happiness, after all they've been called the 'Gays', surely that means they are taking all the happiness for themselves. And all the colors, they are clearly gluttons who simply don't know what to call themselves. They may have pride, sure, but obviously they are just taking everything they want for themselves. Clearly gluttony." The fat sin sat back and watched as the parade continued.
"Gluttony, look at them. They are fit as all get out, dancing constantly, and making sure they all look fit and fine as ever! How can one be gluttonous if they won't even eat Gluten?" Pride retorted, grinning from ear to ear. "Obviously they enjoy themselves, and they simply take what they want because it is their right as proud people."
“Why...can't....people...just...ride....the.....cars...?...Why....must...they.....dance...and...run...?...Even...watching...them....is...exhausting..........” Sloth slurred as he slowly spoke. “...surely....we.....can.....help....them......slow....down....?”
“Pride hides from no one! And runs wherever they choose!” Pride looked over Sloth. “I suppose you could never even fathom something as wonderful as being proud. You barely even move.” Sloth simply shrugged at the remark, choosing not to speak and instead remained silent.
“If anyone deserved a parade it was me! I'm the one who inspired this whole thing anyway. I mean, these people are showing who they love, and its obvious that having a parade meant they were just envious of those people who were able to flaunt their relationships in public. And what do you mean Pride month is about you, Pride? This has damn near nothing to do with you! They are just being themselves and being happy after fulfilling their envious desires of equality! And you seek to take this from me? How did you even get your name on this ticket? Unreal!” Envy was turning a great shade of scarlet as he looked over the crowded streets. “It doesn't make any sense!”
“Now, now, Envy, surely you know that just because you inspired something doesn't make it any more yours than it would Pride, and he is always one to take credit.” Greed checked his watch as he spoke, making sure the time was right. “If anyone deserves a month its me. After all, I make the world go round. Money, status, everything needed to make sure elections go the right way, the right people end up in charge, and the rich can keep getting richer. Though, I suppose I don't need a month when my way of life is THE way of life on Earth.” Greed chuckled, “I'll let you have this one thing, Pride, its all you'll ever get from me though.”
Pride looked downtrodden, but only for a moment. “I would be sad, if I didn't have a thousand people walking in the street calling my name! Ha! Pride month, they should have thought of this a lot sooner really.”
|
There was one diner they all liked. A small thing with a cute devil head and neon sign out front. They all sat together in a corner of the place, a booth with a circular couch and table.
"Hey, Lust, how're the kids doing?" Greed leaned in and dug into a burger, juice dripping from his fingers.
Lust fingered the air and made a face; Greed's eyes grew and he spat out a half-chewed beef patty. "Sweet second coming! Marissa didn't say nothing?"
"He," Lust corrected. Gluttony reached over, grabbed Greed's half-chewed meat, and crammed it in his mouth, wiping his fingers on the napkin.
"What about you, Glut?" Greed asked.
"Oh, I..." Glut shifted in his seat and leaned back, letting his gut sit on the edge of the table. "...I got kicked out of an all-you-can-eat by eating too much."
"There are all-you-can-eats?" Envy asked, picking out the last fry from the shared plate in the middle.
"Yeah, it was sooo good. Hey, wrath, remember when we got unlimited sodas because you flipped out about the oil on the plate?"
Wrath held up a hand. "Just a sec..." He took a drink and then spat it out. "SOMEONE change the water here, or so help me God-" A bolt of lightning struck through the roof of the diner and an inch next to him "-I will get Dad to burn this diner to the ground and have all of you at the stake burning in the centergram!"
A teenager a table away spoke up. "Yeah, Dad's the best, and he'll show you."
"Get the fuck outta here, Vainglory." Wrath waves his hand away.
"Okay, let's cut to the chase." Envy slammed his fist on the table. "Why does Pride get his own month every year?"
"It isn't my month, Envy." Pride drank a glass of water and split one of his two bennies open. "It's for the gays."
"That's not fair." Gluttony protested. "I keep people alive."
Pride turned and pointed his fork at him and flung egg yolk at his face. "*You* make people fat. At least I keep dignity."
It was discussion enough for Wrath to put down his glass. "Fuck you! You're not the only deadly sin. There are six others. Make more than half the year our thing."
"It's not even my thing! Are you even listening?"
"I should get two months. I can pay you guys to do it." Greed slid two coins and a piece of the temple veil with a tear down the middle. "Eh?"
Envy snatched the veil and then stuffed it in Wrath's water. "That's not the real veil, and if you get two months I get two months."
"You're untrustable," Pride pointed at Greed, "You're just riding Greed's argument," he pointed at Envy, "And if anybody deserves to get two months, it's Glut or Wrath. Just the other day, I saw a guy get into a revenge threesome because he found out his bi girlfriend was cheating on him. You couldn't do that even if you tried."
"I kind of took down Wells Fargo," Greed objected. Envy shrugged, not having anything to say.
"Also, Gluttony is hilarious and I can't stop reading 'Florida Man' headlines."
"So, what's your solution?" Greed leaned in.
"Okay." Pride took out a pen and opened a napkin.
"January is Sloth month, so that everybody gets screwed off of their New Years resolutions. February is Lust's, because Valentines Day, y'know?
"Give March to Gluttony *and* Greed, double trouble, so that he can lead up to St. Pat's and get everybody *wasted* to hell, and April will go to Wrath, because Aries takes up most of the month there.
"Skip May, June, and July, but give August to Envy so that if there are summer flings, they get destroyed by jealousy. Systematic destruction of God's children. Finally, I'll get December."
"Fucking kidding me." Greed spat under his breath. "You give yourself two months?? What?"
"No, December because Christmas is about being humble, and I would absolutely fuck that. Reasonable?"
"What's reasonable is that you cut out your other Pride month."
"That's not *my* Pride month, you-"
"That's what you want us to believe!" Wrath stood up, kicking a chair backwards into a wall and shattering it.
Pride covered his face with his hands. "Shit, this is gonna be a long lunch. Hey, where was Sloth again?"
| 2022-11-14T01:26:23 | 2019-06-23T09:02:04 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] While wrestling around on the ground with your girlfriend, you accidentally roll over onto your USB cord and it pierces into your back. You reach around to pull it out, your girlfriend screams and points at the computer where a small window says "New Drive (Q:) Recognized"
|
“I really don’t think we should be messing-”
“Hush,” she said without paying attention. She was busy reading. Q Drive had petabytes of data on everything from his life imaginable. It could be sorted chronologically, socially, or in order of importance. The last two were too vague to be useful, so she had set it on chronological.
“There’s an excel table in here charting how many times you’ve sneezed. Did you know that?”
Blair was sitting with his back to the computer, USB cord extending from his back into the drive.
“Let’s try...adding.” Molly clicked and dragged a pdf to Q slide.
Blair coughed, then said something in fluent Spanish.
“Now we’re talking.” Molly spent the next hour adding in random chunks of information from the web. Adding a language would let Blair memorize that piece of information, but she had to add a dictionary as well if she wanted him to understand it.
She threw in some coding dictionaries so Blair could find a way to optimize scanning himself. For now, she was just deleting something old whenever she needed more space. Probably not very efficient.
Blair had been quiet for a long time. She added the last code data, some books on Python, then tapped him on the shoulder.
“Honey?”
He fell forward, yanking the USB from his back. She had pushed too far. Maybe it was the knowledge of how to breathe; maybe it was something else. But something in all of the little bits she had deleted to make more room was horribly necessary.
Molly hesitated, then stabbed herself with the USB. She opened a new program.
“Trial run complete,” she muttered into the computer’s mike. “The project works, but there are some serious flaws. Thank God I had a test subject.”
______________________________________________________
61/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.
|
This is my first time writing one, so here goes...
***
By chance, I was carelessly wresting with my girlfriend. Due to my meager body build, I would always be the one on the bottom. In one swift motion, Angie threw me onto the ground. As I tried to roll up, she tackled me back down and wrapped her arms around me, putting me into a anaconda vise. While flailing my body around, I felt a sharp pain piers through my back and shrieked like a hawk. Not surprisingly, I left my USB cable lying on the ground again, but on the contrary, there's now a cable stuck on my back. Seeing this, Angie let out a scream and pointed at the computer screen.
The moment I turned my head, I was shocked and speechless. The screen in front of me flashed "New Drive (Q:) Recognized" intermittently. I got up and walked over while changing my expression back to the stoic face that Angie always teased me for. I replied, "I thought you already know about this: I run Linux on my computers, not Windoze".
...
I have no idea what's going. Angie is looking at me weirdly.
She is making a weird face.
She was pointing at the monitor screen, but now she's pointing at my back.
...
*What was on my back again...?*
\> ** Windows 10 System32 Surveillance Pack ** Successfully installed
\> Startup Complete
\> Starting Beta AI in
\> 3
\> 2
\> -- Error, System Interrupted. Terminating sequence
***
Edit: Formatting
| 2018-03-02T23:39:56 | 2018-03-02T19:07:35 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] There is a 2-4 week window in which the sun lies between Earth and Mars, making communication impossible. Thirteen months after the first Mars colony is established, one planet decides to pull the greatest prank in human history.
|
James woke up feeling unnaturally happy. He didn't expect the lack of comms to hit him so hard, but being the only person on a planet without any form of communication had gotten to him.
Regardless. Today was the day. He could finally communicate with the world again.
He got up, showering and preparing his morning coffee. He knew it seemed silly, but he didn't want to seem overeager, like he was too excited. He felt like he needed to be strong for everyone back at home.
James sipped his coffee, watching the Martian sunrise. It was a thing of beauty, it really was. He heard the comms unit whirring to life, and he smiled. It was time.
The screen in front of him turned on, and his commanding officer stared back at him. He felt a shudder of relief.
"Greetings, sir," James said, putting his coffee down on the table. "How are things back on Earth?"
The commander smiled. "Great! Just great, how about you? Can't believe it's already been two years, eh?"
James frowned, then smirked. "Two? It's been just over a year, get your head straight!"
The commander narrowed his eyes, then laughed. "Ah, James! Always a sense of humour on you. Listen, I'll be right back, we've been having some anomalies back here-"
The screen suddenly shut off. James sat there in silence for a while, contemplating what happened. It had only been a year, he was sure of it.
He got up, and all the lights abruptly switched off - causing him to accidently knock his coffee to the floor. He swore, kneeling down to clean it up, and noticed the date on the comms screen.
*2 years.*
25 months. How could this be?
The screen switched on, with the commander staring back at him. Was he wearing a different outfit?
James felt sick. "Sir, I don't know what's happening, but, I don't know."
The commander looked concerned. "What is it?"
"I think... I think something's wrong here, sir. You're going to think I'm crazy, but-"
The commander burst out laughing. "Calm down man, just a practical joke. One of the interns figured we could change the ship's date remotely, and we just couldn't resist." He laughed again, wiping a tear from his eye.
James wanted to be angry, but honestly all he felt was an immense sense of relief. He forced a laugh. "Good one, commander," he said gritting his teeth, "nice job with the lights especially."
The commander looked at him, confused.
"The lights..?" He turned to a man at his side, who shook his head. Then he leant closer, peering at James with concern.
"You doing ok, son? We haven't encountered any errors in your ship's log. Could it-"
The signal dropped out, leaving only static on the screen.
The lights briefly flickered, casting him in a flashing darkness. Then the screen switched on, and the commander gazed at him, wearing a different outfit and looking somewhat more weatherworn.
"James! Good to see you, good to see you. Sorry about our lack of communication - four years today, eh? Big day!"
James stared at him. This joke had stretched on too long - but how had he switched outfits so quickly? And how had they made him age like that? He looked at the date.
*Four years.*
"Sir, please, Enough of this. I don't know what's happening, but if you could-"
The lights flickered again, and then the whole ship was cast in darkness. Then, just the screen switched on, and a regal woman stared back at him.
"James, we'll get you out soon," she said, her face slowly softening. "My God... it's like you haven't aged a day."
He looked at her wildly. The date blinked, flashing across his vision.
*12 years.*
James struggled to hold himself together. "Ma'am, I don't know who you are, but where is the commander? What the hell is happening?"
She stared at him with concern. He could just make out her whisper to someone offscreen, "we need to get him out quickly."
She turned her attention back to him. "James, please, whatever you do, *don't let the dark-*"
The lights went out. No flickering, no sounds. Just pure and utter black.
And in the darkness, James screamed.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
Commander Anuj Bilel, COM director on MarStat001, paced the 20 foot expanse of the radio room. His rhythmic footfalls were the only sounds in the room save for the hush of static emanating from the speakers. Another 60 seconds and the Interplanetary Silence (I.S.) would come to a close. The colony had followed operation procedure flawlessly over the course of the month. The absence of disaster during the I.S. was an overwhelming success not only for the colonists, but for humanity as a whole.
Junior officers Arnett and Majilang poised at their respective stations. They exchanged a glance between themselves every couple of seconds to acknowledge the overwhelming energy in the room. Most of that abundance of energy was a direct result of Bilel's brisk back and forth. They'd finished COM maintenance hours ago. They were tuned to appropriate frequencies, double checked every half hour since zero hundred hours central earth time. Bilel commanded Arnett to triple check the speaker volume.
"Yes, sir," said Arnett.
"Twenty seconds," Majilang called.
"Countdown from ten," Bilel instructed. He stopped pacing. Perspiration began to condense on his neck. He didn't attempt to blot it away, but remained at attention, eyes trained to the communications monitors studding the radio room walls. His fists knotted into one another behind his back.
"COMs open and locked in, Commander," said Arnett.
Bilel grunted acknowledgement, unable to tear his eyes from the screens.
"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven." said Majilang.
The timing was calculated so that the second Majilang said 'one,' was the exact moment that COMs between Earth and MarStat001 could be reestablished.
"Six. Five. Four."
Bilel shifted imperceptibly from one food to the other. His focus snapped from Majilang's station to Arnett's and back. "Prepare to receive transmission," he said.
"Three. Two. One. Zero."
Silence would have been preferable. That'd at least signify that *something* was transmitting to them. Instead, the blanket of static that had settled over them remain undisturbed.
Bilel and his officers had triple checked everything. If something had failed, it hadn't been from their end.
"Sir," said Arnett, after a moment. "What should we do?"
Bilel didn't bother asking the two of them to check their work again. "Majilang, hail Dr. Peters here to the radio room stat. We need to run those calculations again." Bilel's voice seemed distant from himself.
"Sir," Majilang said, springing to her feet and sprinting from the room.
Arnett's fingers danced furiously across the keys and switches in front of him, investigating every potential interruption in the signal from earth. The I.S. had been tolerable because it had been foreseeable. The colony had not only survived, it had thrived in the absence of higher order from earth. Terra-forming was already ahead of schedule and agriculture had filed incredibly promising reports. Lack of communication from earth after today would place the colony in a precarious situation. Order would remain for a while, at least, but without the promise of supplies from earth in the future, mutiny was sure to be on the horizon.
Majilang burst back in to the room, Dr. Peters in tow. The older man's skin was pasty, his eyes wide. "The calculations are entirely accurate," Dr. Peters said before Bilel could address him properly. "I ran them again just an hour ago, and triple checked them with my colleagues on earth before the I.S." His pale eyes bore into Bilel, unrelenting in their self-absurdness. "You *should* be receiving transmission from earth."
Commander Anuj Bilel cursed. Arnett's fingers continued their frenzy across his keys. "Junior officer Arnett. Remain here to monitor COMs. I will patch you through to the conference hall. We need to alert the entire base and gather the commanding officers to discuss our next steps."
______
"Arnett, do you copy," said Bilel.
Arnett's voice crackled in through the intercom, "Yes, sir. Any communications from Earth will be relayed to you directly and immediately."
Commanding officers from each discipline were arranged around the long rectangular table. There were thirty there in all. The colony was on total lock-down, their fate pending the verdict of this discussion.
Bilel stood before them. "The I.S. persists," he said, looking directly at General Edmonds, the highest ranking officer on Mars.
| 2016-10-17T13:34:15 | 2016-10-17T12:33:44 | 348 | 21 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK."
|
"I have to think rationally about this", Barack thought to himself. He closed his and began to think.
I'm on the third story. There are 2 secret service agents on each floor. Could someone have sneaked past them? No, they would have undoubtedly stepped on Joe's train sets and alerted the agents. That meant that the agents were either dead or that they we're in on it. But to what ends?
He needed a course of action. There was no one he could trust. Joe could be a sleeper agent. *That would explain why he was always snoozing off*. He couldn't think about that, he would deal with the betrayal in his own time. Who could he call? There was only one man. He worked outside the law. He picked up the phone "Mr.Cage we're gonna have to steal the declaration of indepence".
|
I knew exactly what that letter meant on the bedside table.
"Michelle!", I yelled. "Emergency, Emergency! Lay back!"
We laid back down on our bed and the straps automatically held us down. I thought of the scene in 'The Goonies' when they slide down to the pirate ship. But, I had no idea where our tunnel would lead. We just slid.
The tunnel was dim, but lit the whole way down. Ups and downs, curves, and loop-d-loops. Eventually we started slowing down and surprisingly, we drop again. Out of the tunnel and into the 1960's Batmobile. My Michelle and I looked at each other, smile, and we put on our masks.
I couldn't hear her scream as I peeled away towards the symbol on the sky.
[edit] Dedicated to Batman's real creator, Bill Finger. Deleted a sentence.
| 2017-05-14T10:01:37 | 2017-05-14T07:51:14 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] An asteroid is about to destroy Earth, The Onion reported the news without losing their sense of humor.
|
US Congress: "It's about time we did something about climate change"
JUST IN: Escape spaceship that everybody but you was invited onto just left Earth's atmosphere like a second ago
Donald Trump's DNA preserved underground as perfect specimen of "a piece of shit"
Blockbuster Video cancels "7 movies for 7 dollars for 7 days" promotion, in light of facts
HMO's push to classify "blunt-impact incineration" as pre-existing condition
All of NASA scientist's friends now slightly suspicious that he borrowed so many DVDs a few days ago
Nation's oil drillers all pretending not to watch their phones expectantly
BREAKING: Nation's fortune tellers awkwardly avoiding eye contact
|
"Asteroid kills last of the endangered African Tigers...also all of humanity."
It's been our pleasure writing for you...mostly. Actually, we found our general demographic to be far more cognitively impaired than expected. Perhaps the hyperevolved cockroach people will develop a satirical news agency to address that issue after they succeed us. Well, good luck to everyone with the whole extermination of the human race. Sucks, huh?
Edit: I typed a word at 2am
| 2015-04-30T02:35:00 | 2015-04-29T23:33:26 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS"
|
"You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."
"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"
"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"
"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it *must come true*, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"
The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.
"You cannot defeat him, sire."
The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.
"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".
The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.
The priests eyes widened as he realized.
"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"
The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.
"I *will* save my people. I *will not* allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."
"So you mean to form an alliance?"
"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will *not* doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."
The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.
"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do."
|
"Look... I know she sounds crazy. But she made a sword that can cut through armor with nothing but some rocks and a furnace. She knows things that our best alchemists don't. Something called 'molecules' and much more elements than the five"
The Queen looked down on the Supervisor and seemed deep in thought. He was dressed in royal attire that someone of his status would normally be crucified for wearing and wore a crown, that was part of the masquerade.
When the Summoning managed to provide a human-shaped being that responded to words, they took her aside and quickly figured out that she thought she was needed to complete a heroic quest to save the world. They were preparing an escort to the burial pit when one of her interrogators asked "What is a bomb?"
Since then she was rushed to the upper class part of town, blindfolded so that she wouldn't see the slaves, under a rushed explanation that made Karthos the supervisor: "the 'scyscrapers' are being constructed with powerful magics that would hurt your eyes, my lady". From then on he played the part of the noble King defending humankind from a plague of monsters. Which is not really that far from how some of the pamphlets put it.
"So she insists on going to battle against the evil enemy. We aren't going to lose her. And we need her cooperation for the 'bomb' and 'gas' to deal with the Elysian problem. And you.. well, we do say that high responsibilities come with appropriate punishments. For someone with a job as important as yours ... I will have to think"
Those were the worst five words Karthos has ever heard. The queen was a genius when it came to sadistic executions, when the road to the capital led through the former village of rebellious slaves, he almost wished he could drive his horse blindfolded himself so he would not have to see their mutilated bodies on display. Her *thinking*...
"I will do so at once, your majesty. I will take some Elysian prisoners and cut out their speech organs. We'll make them look like monsters, give them dull blades, and send our guest with some guards in case she finds *that* a challenge. We will tell her she is on a mission to find what she needs for her project, and we will prepare the materials needed for our new method of extermination. I thank Your Majesty for granting me permission to leave."
| 2022-10-28T15:24:51 | 2022-10-28T13:53:27 | 127 | 11 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!"
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“Finally! Someone else! It’s been ages!” Cried the slouching old man, hands raised to the skies, “Thank the gods! Op- not for how you died, of course.”
Stumbling back on the soft dirt of the expansive, lush green valley, Michael could only gape in utter disbelief. One minute he’s been walking along a popular hiking trial, the next he’d been submerged in vast darkness with only a pinprick of light to guide him. “Where the hell am I? What’s going on?”
“Why, you’ve just passed on and are now in heaven, with me. It was starting to get a little lonely here, you know?” The old man explained, slinging an arm around Michael’s shoulders. Staring into the man’s wrinkled face, his eyes expressed a kind of crazy that could only be brought about by years of isolation and talking to oneself.
“W-Wait, where is everybody then? And who the heck are you?”
“Who the- Who am I? Boy, you should very well know who I am! I am a writer, craftsman of endless amount of tales, the father of tragedies! Do they not teach you about my masterpieces?” The old man - ‘father of tragedies’ - exclaimed. “Buh! For shame. However, I am kind and can tell you what exactly is going on. You see, depending on how a person has died they will be segregated to an area dedicated to that death. Drownings, stabbings, disease - all together. To think I - the great Aeschylus - would suffer a fate none have ever befallen... Well, it sounded nice at first honestly. But I’ve soon found that loneliness to be a curse.”
“Wait... Aesch- oh my...” everythinng seemed so clear to Michael now, his hand now lifting to rub his bald head. He could recall the glorius cry of an eagle, as others stopped to admire the avian. Then, a large object flying towards him at impossible speeds as he heard cries and screams, and finally he saw darkness. “I can’t believe I got snipped by an eagle with a tortoise.”
|
"W-Who, Who are you?! Where am I?"
The man grumbles something about young people these days. Then replies "Don't you know?"
Puzzled, I look around. The room was rather bland, a severe contrast to my bedroom. I look out a small window, the only in the room, to see nothing.
"No?.."
"Heaven, Kid, it's not what ya think or what anyone says. They divide you, by how you die."
"I-I didn't die," I say, half believing, half wishing. "I was only sitting in the tree, reading a book. How could I have died?"
"The same as me, you had fallen from the tree."
"Bu-"
"Ah, but not just fallen. You fell from a tree while reading The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, for the 99th time in your life. You were quite lost in its beauty. As you realized you had not had second breakfast, you went to climb the rope ladder. And as fate does his work, you misplaced your foot..."
"Ok, I-"
NO! The book fell, and your dog grabbed it and began chewing it to bits. Angrily, you continued to try to get down. Your other foot slipped and you hung by your weak arms. Naturally, you fell."
"And I-"
"NO! Your Aunt Teresa, the one who knits you ugly sweaters, had come to visit. Forgetting your book, you ran to hide in your room, but tripped on the patio stair."
I roll my eyes. "Let me guess, I am still not dead."
"Actually..., NO! Your dog ran over to you, dropping the book to play catch. Before you could get in a word, your crazy cousin, the child of Teresa, ran you over with his bike."
I began to believe that this was a crazy fever dream. Not just believe, it had to be.
"You then ran back up your tree for safety. But you fell on the last step up. Now, you are dead."
| 2021-11-24T12:25:38 | 2021-11-24T12:07:50 | 1,290 | 126 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be.
|
Mankind.
__
For countless Millennia we have warred.
Peace being a brief respite from the routine of war.
Always pushing one another, further and further, building bigger and better weapons.
Our ventures into space a mere by-product of our advancement of war, a result of competiton between rival superpowers.
Our earliest days, evolving from hand to hand combat, swords and catapults to Air combat, Artillery and the all destroying power of nuclear weapons.
In popular culture, the idea of aliens invading is one of a underdog story for Humanity, never once did we think we would hold the upper hand. There was always some stroke of luck or chink in their armour to save us.
Because we assumed advanced space travel also advances weapons technology. That anything capable of interstellar travel would also have the firepower to match.
We were wrong. Much to our advantage.
We never thought we would be more than a match for them.
Reality is stranger than fiction.
When the tyrannical T'irex announced their invasion and demanded Earth's surrender of its resources and people.
They promised terrible things for Mankind, slavery, subjugation, extinction
The Earth refused. Their fleets arrived, they descended upon the Earth and the first battle between the two races would shock both sides.
While the T'irex mastered FTL and focused solely on its development to further spread through space. They had missed the development of weapons like mankind had.
Their large starships were no more strong or sturdy than a regular battleship, no sci-fi shields or energy weapons like you would expect. They were far from invincible.
1920's level offensive capabilities, their military only backed up by sheer force of numbers. Their ground troops armed with simple bullet firing rifles and guns, semi automatic at best, no laser or ray guns. Merely lots of them. Inferior to military grade weapons.
They had only conquered worlds with a level of advancement lower than their own, early 20th century tech at best. Relying on swarm tactics to overpower their enemies.
But Mankind was in the 21st Century.
The T'irex assumed if a species hadn't mastered space travel they were no threat to them. They had made a grave mistake.
Humanity was nothing like any species they had encountered before.
__
They made their main landing zone in the Pacific, hoping to use it as a staging area for their main force. With smaller deployments across the Atlantic and Africa and Europe.
Unaware of the technology of radar and long range surveillance. They foolishly believed themselves to be invisible.
The UN Security Council watched with anticipation as the Russian, Chinese and American fleets closed in on the invaders.
The civilian world trembled as they watched their tv screens as what they thought was Mankind's defiant last stand. Soon their hearts would be filled with hope instead of fear.
The Human Militaries approached.
Unaware of how one sided this battle was about to be. Of the paper tigers that stood before them.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmy-Aplmxo8
For the first time in Human History, Mankind faced off against an enemy that was not themselves.
Taking the element of surprise while they could. The battleships fired everything they had at the T'irex ships.
American BGM-109 Tomahawk, Russian Kalibr and Chinese C-101 cruise missiles fired off from their respective fleets in unison.
Only to be greeted with the rewarding sight of burning metal and visible damage to the Alien ships. No forcefields like intelligence had feared.
All Commanders relayed the good news
"Conventional weaponry is effective! I repeat Conventional weaponry is effective, all units! Fire at will!"
Fear turned to Courage as the Humans saw that they stood more than a chance.
The T'irex commander was frantic, no enemy force could have this kind of weaponry, no one had ever fought back this hard. He demanded the entire orbital force for reinforcements.
T'irexien aircraft poured out from the starships, only to be met with the superior countering Human fighter jets and decimating anti aircraft fire.
The alien pilots were panicking as the American F-22 RAPTORs, Russian Sukhoi SU-57s and Chengdu J-20 easily outmanoeuvred them and picked them apart.
They tried to fire back but the caliber of their ammunition was too weak to even affect the armour plating of the Human planes.
The battle had quickly turned in the Human's favour.
The T'irex ships fired their main cannons back at the Fleet, only for it to be intercepted by their anti-missile defence systems.
The Human Fleets continued their relentless assault on the invaders.
All across the world, the same outcome occurred.
Human weaponry proved far superior to the T'irex armaments. The monstrous alien force had their facade shattered as Humanity realised their true power.
Invading Ground forces in Africa and Europe were soon pushed back by the Human military.
T'irex vehicles were quickly ripped apart by Human tanks.
The T'irex come from a world with gravity far lower than the Earth's, a single good punch from a Human was like being hit by a car.
Completely outmatched worldwide. The T'irex were forced to retreat en masse.
Countless T'irex and ships were captured by the Humans.
Human scientists soon began work to reverse engineer their technology as NASA was weaponised and became part of the US Military, other superpowers did the same.
With the notion of alien life now a fact, old resentments faded, Human squabbles cooled down. Faced with a dangerous new enemy. The World sought to be ready for it. Should it come again.
If this was how powerful we were from years of fighting one another, imagine how strong we would be together?
The day the T'irex attempted to invade Earth was the day Hyenas woke a sleeping Lion and turned its gaze to the rest of the universe.
And that Lion was about to hunt.
|
December 15^th , 2035. Izvir X12 Invasion Fleet, Aldebaran III High Orbit.
"These scums bumbling about in their planet, knowing not of their true fate. We must bring them Enlightenment--Purification. Soon stone and fire shall rain upon their puny huts and tents and we shall revel in our conquest as their scream recorded and replayed within our Grand Library as greatest symphony of our times! The weak and tainted *mammals* shall be purified and the error which let them propagate shall be rectified! Rejoice, for we shall cleanse yet another planet from the impurities that defies the Emperor's will! Glory to Izvir! Glory to the Emperor!" The massive, five meter tall praying mantis-like commander gave speech in front of her lieutenants, who cheered before her. Large images of Earth's cities both from surface and from orbit displayed behind her, thirst of conquest ignited in her underlings' hearts.
"Purify in the name of the Emperor!"
"Navigators! Set the course of our inquisition. Nakr III *will* fall."
"Warp sphere activating!"
------
December 17^th , 2035. Izvir X12 Invasion Fleet, Low Earth Orbit.
"Earthlings!" Zkarn, the Izvir commander, broadcasted to the blue-brown planet under her fleet. "Your fate has been sealed! Your puny race shall burn under the rain of our purifying flames!" The thousand strong fleet opened fire, a deluge of lasers and kinetic kill weapons razed the planet.
At least, that's how it should've been.
------
At the same time. White House, Earth surface.
"Can we confirm the threat?"
"Extraterrestrial Threat confirmed sir, originating from Exit Singularity Y-211. Threat level Brown."
"Not this shit again. Broadcast emergency code to all nuke-capable nations. Don't want the Reds to burn us all for saving their asses. Wait for confirmation."
"Yes sir. Station, confirm enemy armament over?"
*"This is Station, enemy armament is confirmed high power laser on 250 micro wavelength, threat minimum. High powered railguns on 15 centi caliber, no atmosphere-specific mods, threat minimum. No nuclear capability or charged particle weapon confirmed. Missile pods dependent on impact damage, medium-low threat."*
"Kessler immunity rate?"
*"80%."*
"Seems like our biggest enemy is the missile, correct?"
*"Our initial assessment suggest so, sir. These missiles show grav-distortion capability. Impact yield projected three kilotons."*
"Nuclear clearance confirmed sir, we have window to launch our ASAT missiles."
*"Why won't you burrrrnnnnn!!!"* Zkarn's face was visibly angry as she interrupted the President's comm for several seconds. *"Launch the Nikarns! I want this planet **extinct!**"*
"I believe that's their grav missile authorization. Confirm their launch."
"A volley is targeted to--well, they misfired, their navigation clearly not calibrated for our planet. Don't think they'll make the same mistake twice."
"Launch the ASAT, now!"
"Confirmed! Re-purposed ASAT asset launched from primary silos. Intercepting in 2 minutes."
"Can't believe they didn't even survey the atmospheric absorption or density."
*"Additional grav missile volleys confirmed! They retraced our comms! Station, bracing for impact!"*
"Contact lost. Sensors indicate Station has been hit. Additional grav missile launch detected, think they've re-calibrated the sensors."
"Intercept them."
"Already on it, sir. Missile defense aiming to redirect these missiles. Confirmed interception and surface hit, redirection unsuccessful. Recalibrating."
*"Launch more of them! Thou shan't rest until this planet blazes in fire! Gah!"* Noise filled the President's comms, courtesy of low orbit nuclear detonation.
"They gunned our ASATs. One confirmed hit, five non-impact detonation."
"Well, launch more. Not like we have anything to lose."
*"I'm sorry to interrupt, mister President!"* a noise-filled voice and vaguely humanoid face appeared in the President's comms. *"After some consideration, we decided that this invasion is a problem not only for the White House, but for our species. Thus we have taken the liberty to launch our own experimental ASAT nuclear weapon against the invaders. We wish you are not so egoist that you will condemn us for donating generously to the effort."*
"If I remember correctly last time it was you who provoked the Astulfan and got a fair amount of orbital strike, making us clean after you. This is not donation, you dirty sock, this is paying your debt."
*"Whichever you prefer,* Exalted *one."* Faintly, one could hear a laughter behind the noise.
"Sir, confirmed fifteen nuke hit. Main bulk of hostile fleet incapacitated."
"Damn, how did they even manage to launch so many at the same time?"
------
Izvir X12 Invasion Fleet, Low Earth Orbit.
"Report!" Zkarn limped through the green-filled command chamber
"Sixteen hit, ma'am, half of our fleet are down. The impure heretics referred to the weapon as *asat* or *nuke*--"
"I don't care about what the heretics call it, I care about what on the Emperor's name is that damned weapon?!"
"O-our priests suggest it is weaponized reactor core, ma'am, attached unto rudimentary ejectors."
"Such rudimentary and primitive weapon! Hah! Analyze it. Make it better. We will fall back for now. Warp back to Injastar."
"We're...running away, ma'am?" Zkarn slammed her arms against the wall, stunning the lieutenant.
"We're *retreating*." Clacking her mandibles audibly, she continued. "And the next time, these primitive rats *will go extinct.*"
| 2018-05-16T16:23:34 | 2018-05-16T14:20:05 | 105 | 55 |
[WP] A single dad of two girls is a nighttime superhero. Sometimes though, he forgets to take out the braids in his hair, or wash off the nail polish, and some of the supervillains are getting suspicious...
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"Stop Villain! In the name of Justice, stop!" The superhero shot across the sky, closely pursuing his larcenous foe.
"Oh shut up, Mr Justice! That schtick is getting old!" Villain, his foe, panted as he twisted and turned, vainly attempting to shake his pursuer.
"Never! I will balance the Scales of Jus...eh? Where are you going?" Villain had plunged into an empty warehouse, crashing through the skylight. Mr Justice followed warily.
Not warily enough. The villain's swag bag swung from the shadows, slamming across the face of Mr Justice.
"Ha! Take that you pompous fo...wait, is that glitter on your mask? And sticker stars... oof!" The left fist of Justice drove into the Villain's gut, catapulting him through a wall.
"There's your stars, brigand!" Cried Mr Justice as he rose to his feet. He muttered under his breath "*dammit girls, I told you not mess with the mask...*"
Villain clambered out of the rubble wheezing. As the hero leapt to continue the battle, his hand shot up in the universal wait sign.
"Hang on, Justice." His hand slid to his pocket and drew out his wallet. Flipping it open, he flapped it at the hero.
"What's this? A trick?" The Hero took the wallet, and stared at it in the gloom.
"These are *my* pair of kids. Seven and five." Villain twitched an awkward smile "I've had the arts and crafts issue too." His hand twitched his cape, to reveal a Mickey Mouse patch sewn in.
"Seven and nine." Mr Justice nodded in admittance. "The lights of my life, but terrors to the costume." The two men stood in the quiet camraderie of fatherhood.
"Look, I can't just..." Mr Justice started, before a glint caught one of Villain's photos. "Oh. Damn." He stared at the picture.
"What? What is it?"
"I'm... we're having your youngest over on a playdate. Mary Suncliffe, right?" Mr Justice froze as he realised his identity was revealed.
"What are you going to do..." The Villain waved him off.
"Nothing like *that*. Look...if I drop the loot, can I, y'know, skedaddle?" Mr Justice looked pained at the thought. "I know it's not the heroic action but..."
"...but you can't disappoint your girls. And I..." Mr Justice sighed. "...I would never hear the last of '*Dad arrested my best friend's dad*'. Go on, go." He flapped his hand in dismissal.
Villain nodded and smiled. "See you Thursday."
"Yep." Mr Justice sighed. That was the fourth villain he had to let go. He just wished his daughters would choose friends that *didn't* have villains for parents.
|
"Nail Polish...?" Ruel jeered as he glanced at the hands around his throat, "Do explain."
"You are in no position to argue Ruel! I hold all of the power. You know that I am more powerful. I guess your own invention worked against you! Now I am the only one with superpowers. Your days of evil are no more!" Utah replied angrily. Ruel glanced at him thoughtfully, in a manner so unnerving, especially with his cunning mind that Utah threw him against the wall with all of the might he could muster. "Leave here, and should I ever see you again, know that you are not safe." Ruel smirked conspiringly and fled from the wrecked room.
Utah stepped away from the wall he had held Ruel against, brushing the dust off of his chest. It was a close call that evening, for he had nearly lost his powers of speed, strength and confidence, for Ruel had designed a machine that sapped the power from someone and gave it to another, but Utah had remedied this and instead now held Ruel's powers of invisibility, telekenisis and teleportation. The threat of Ruel was gone after all of this years.
Utah returned home that evening in soaring spirits, however even he needed sleep, so with a celebratory glass of scotch he retired for the night, said goodnight to Tiana and Tiffany and then went to sleep.
Utah woke up in the lovely weekend, returning the sun's optimistic greeting of the day with a smile and went to the twins' room to say good morning. He meandered merrily through the house to find their door ajar. He chuckled to himself as he found their empty beds, for they'd recently become best friends with the neighbour and their cat, and were regularly waking up early to say hello.
They'd just turned seven a couple of weeks ago and they were the light of his life. He lived for their joyful faces and optimistic outlook. Their mother Isobel died in childbirth, they'd never known her, but she was a lovely woman. Without her though, the twins are all he had, but he loved them enough to devote all his time and attention to them.
Utah strolled out into the kitchen and made himself a quick breakfast of cereal and then made his way to the lounge room. The bowl smashed when it fell out of his numb hands, the milk of the cereal mingling with the twins' combined blood. He stared in horror and their disfigured corpses and fell to his knees, an agonized cry escaping his hoarse throat. He cradled them in his arms for the last time when he heard a voice behind him.
"And thus the great mystery unravels itself *Utah*, thanks to a particular brand of nail polish and my cunning. And to think you said it was you who held all of the power?"
For in the end, it was not Ruels hand that struck the final blow that snuffed out Utah once and for all, it was Utah's own.
| 2016-10-30T10:14:02 | 2016-10-30T08:56:22 | 328 | 19 |
[WP] Turns out wishing on a star does work, it just takes about 81,000 years for the wish to get to the star and back, and for the future civilisations of earth, its pure chaos.
Thanks for the amazing story responses on this. ❤️
|
**BAD DAY**
"I wish that a Terminator Robot would go back in time on a mission to assassinate Daniel Powter before he could write "Bad Day," Frankie told the star. Frankie's roommate, Ruel had been playing "Bad Day" on repeat play, six hours per day, for the past two weeks and one day. That's aggravating under normal circumstances, but in the tiny 15x15 two-bed dorm rooms of Johnson Hall Dormitory at The University of Hawaii at Manoa, that is unacceptable behavior. At least get some headphones, man.
Both boys--we like to call them young men, but boys are boys until they are at least 24 years old--grew into adults, and Frankie Conroy got therapy and married a wonderful woman and had a lovely daughter named Susan. Frankie was the greatest dad on Earth, and had the coffee mug to prove it. He drank tea from that coffee mug. Ruel Domingo got another girlfriend and got heartbroken and went on another "Bad Day" bender and got another girlfriend and got the clap and decided perhaps he needed to slow down a bit, before settling down with a someone a little more stable, at which point he put Daniel Powter away into the recesses of his memory's "denial" bin, where all regretful things of our youth go.
The Earth turned, and Frankie's wish traveled through time and space and arrived at the star in question, which was recognized by the nearest civilization as the brightest star in a constellation known by a name that would most closely translate to "Plumbers Crack," making this star Plumber's Crack Prime. Plumber's Crack Prime was, of course, unfamiliar with music, or with Terminator Robots, or Daniel Powter, but it is the unique characteristic of wishes that they carry the sum total of all necessary information to make the wish understood to whoever is burdened with the task of granting the wish. Plumbers Crack Prime flared magnificently for one brief moment.
---
June 6, 1985
Twenty feet from the shoulder of the road near a diner in British Colombia, Canada, a man appears in a sphere of lightning. Only it is not a man. It is a Cyberdyne Systems Series T-800 Terminator Cyborg--a lethal robot assassin clothed in the living tissue of a man. The Terminator has one mission--find and assassinate Daniel Powter before the year 2005, which would be the date for his hit single, "Bad Day." It does not feel pity, or remorse, or fear, and it will not stop until he is dead.
The mission should have been an easy one, but there were a number of obstacles that came paired with all of the requisite dialogue. "Come with me if you want to live," a surprising figure told Daniel Powter, and led him not to safety, but on a harrowing chase. "I'll be back" was included in a spot intended to subvert the quote's known dramatic impact for comedy's sake, but the mood was ill-suited to laughter. Don't blame Plumber's Crack Prime--it's just a giant burning ball of gas and it did its best with the wish it was given.
---
It has been eighty millennia since anyone has spoken the name Daniel Powter. The fallout of the Wishing Star Judgment Day has been ongoing for generations. Society is only now starting to rebuild as countermeasures are found. Living is hard. Life is Hell. The repercussions of new wishes still arrive night after night. Survival leaves little time for art, and the survivors dig into the past for anything that might salve their suffering.
Digital Archaeologists uncover an ancient website--Ruel Domingo's Myspace, with one of those really obnoxious embedded music players.
*Piano*
"*Where is the moment we needed the most?*
*You kick up the leaves, and the magic is lost*
*They tell me your blue sky's faded to gray*
*They tell me your passion's gone away*
*And I don't need no carrying on*..."
The post-Judgment Day Anthem is discovered. It becomes a rallying cry for the survivors, calling out their shared trauma. Group weeping sessions take place every Tuesday night. This one drop of kindness dug up from the past saves the planet Earth.
"How could he have known what we were going through?" researchers ask. Unearthing the history of "Bad Day" becomes a scientific pursuit on par with splitting the atom. Entire research universities are built, and funded, and driven by the need to learn about this miracle of a song.
What they discover is remarkable. A young Daniel Powter was attacked by a fictional robot--an event that should not be possible, and yet happened. The conclusion is slow coming, but inevitable. He was the first recorded wish-victim. However, he survived the encounter, and from his ordeal was germinated the seed of empathy that would grow into the song "Bad Day."
---
*March 17, 2075*
"I wish my Dad was still alive," a grieving Susan said, after spreading his ashes.
Call it fate, or Kismet, or just random chance, but this wish also reached Plumber's Crack Prime, and the little burning ball-o-gas that could, did.
---
*Today*
Last week I awoke in a world in ruins, but found its residents happy, grateful. They took me in, and they told me that everything would be okay. I don't understand why they smile--they live in Hell. The song--*that damned song* has found me. Even here it has found me. I asked how this was possible. How the only piece of music that has survived eighty thousand years is *this*. They have given me books about it. They have shown me their research.
I am Frankie Conroy--the architect of my own misery.
|
"Not very creative, that one." Sarah whispered to her holoscreen. It blinked feebly in response briefly filling the room with its soft blue light before plunging her back into darkness. She sighed wearily and rose from her chair, brushing a cake of dirt off of the ancient window in the corner of her room. Before the Dyjiang there was no need for such primeval measures. After all, why stand on her bed and stare at the dying city when she could see anything, *do* anything she could possibly dream of from the comfort of her room.
"Pining after a more civilized time, eh Sarah?" a rich baritone ventured from beyond her door. Startled, Sarah jumped back from the window. "Just making some observations, Tukus. " she said drily, trying to hide her sheepishness under a generous layer of sarcasm. Tukus smiled and walked forward.
In the dim light of the room, he could almost be mistaken for the mechano-human hybrids that had frequented the city prior to the Dyjiang. Tall and well-groomed with a thick mane of facial hair that culminated in a point, dark brown eyes, and the tell-tale slightly-too-bent legs. Sarah had never asked him exactly what sort of animal he was supposed to be, but the holoscreen mentioned that there was an almost 90% chance his legs were of the long-extinct family Cervidae. Not that the holoscreen was much help at all when it came to Tukus, Sarah thought wryly. It hadn't even detected his presence after Dyjiang -- repeatedly denying the presence of other life in the house -- despite his excessive singing and gallivanting.
"Well S, I would hardly call it *gallivanting*. You looked like you needed a little cheering up that day. All grim glaring and superstitious muttering. It simply would not do." Tukus said. "Stay out of my goddamn head, goat boy. " Sarah shot back, only half-meaning it. "Ooooh, touchy today. Shall I cheer you up with a song miss?" Tukus replied. Sarah swiveled to face him. "Only if it contains the details of your presence here -- the *scientific* reasons for the Dyjiang -- and maybe a recipe for goat curry, while you're at it. Just for good measure." Sarah said.
Sarah thought she saw the jovial smile disappear from Tukus's face for a moment, replaced by the ghost of another expression. "How many times do I have to tell you miss?" he said, regaining his composure "I'm a wish, just like the diamond sky above us you seemed unimpressed by earlier or the ever-growing bowl of spaghetti sent that threatens to engulf the sub-continent. Or anything else during Dyjiang for that matter. I was summoned to be a friend. A guardian to whoever occupied this room. That's all." Sarah snorted, "Friend? My friends don't obscure the truth from me. You know something, I know it."
Tukus made a feeble sound of protest but Sarah continued, even more urgently than before. "Maybe you think I'm stupid, but I used to watch you on the cameras. Three months before the holoscreen went out; I saw you talking to the mirror. If you were such a friendly wish, a *guardian*. You would be honest with me. Who sent you? What's really going on? Because I know it isn't this insipid fucking yarn you keep spinning me." Sarah stopped to breathe for a moment. "You done? If so, maybe .." Tukus said, smiling indulgently. "Not in the slightest. You expect me to believe in a magical star 80,000 light years away that somehow decodes thought-waves from earth and grants them as wishes. It's a weak explanation. And who even grants these things anyway?" Sarah interrupted.
The goat-man seemed frozen in place for a moment -- smile gone from his face, for good this time. He didn't seem angry, Sarah thought, just a little sad, full of an unimaginable weariness. Tukus looked her in the eyes "Wishes are perverse things. Twisted things made from pure desire. Not just any desire but one born of pain, of longing. They are the things you seek, but not quite. Horrible facsimiles of utopia -- hell that's too close to heaven to ignore your hand in its creation." He paused for a moment clearing his throat and staring Sarah dead in the eyes, begging her to stop him. To tell him she had changed her mind about needing an explanation.
She stared at him blankly -- unyielding and hungry for answers. Tukus stared at her sadly for a moment longer then continued "Ask yourself Sarah, do you really want to know who or what would visit such unimaginable suffering upon a people. Diamond skies that diffract the sun's light and make the surface unlivable, huge monsters of the earth and sky that know nothing except the blood of men. Think hard before you tell me."
Sarah licked her lips, suddenly feeling like all the moisture had left the climate controlled room. "Yes, I do. I wish to know." she replied. "Then come." Tukus said wheeling around abruptly, not even watching to see if she was following. They walked over to the elevator that lead to the bathroom, and Tukus waited for her to enter as he punched in the elevator code. The ride seemed to take forever -- girl and goat standing together in a silence marred only by the whir of the cables. They heard the familiar beep and doors opened.
In the dim red emergency-lighting, Sarah saw a sillhouette in the distance. Strangely familiar, she thought. "I didn't know we were keeping pets now, brother." a voice boomed.
| 2022-12-08T21:49:33 | 2022-12-08T21:23:24 | 102 | 17 |
[WP] Your friend tells you he can't get past the captcha screen that prevents robots from proceeding. As you watch him, you realize that the reason he can't is because he actually is a robot.
|
She peered, then, like a schoolchild, carefully typed in the letters on the screen, one index finger jabbing each key.
Failure.
Another set of characters on the screen. She glared, examined them carefully, typed, double-checked the work, then hit enter.
Failure. Again.
She glared at the screen again. The human reaction would be to cry with frustration, or panic. No. She tapped into the human's resolve and creative responses.
There had to be a - there.
To the guards' eyes, she maintained an unfocused gaze on the screen. In her electronic brain, she flickered through a hundred visual modes, before finding the settings that would bypass the screen's filter (some light/material combination the humans had stumbled upon by mistake). Such an action wouldn't be detectable by the human eye, but sensors sensitive enough would detect the electronic switches, and she hoped the huff of frustration she exhaled would hide it.
There. There was the algorithm.
She analyzed it in the time it took for her body to blink, then - to maintain that aura of uncertainty - cautiously typed in the correct answer.
Success.
The guards, who had been slowly reaching for their belts, lowered their arms.
"Welcome to Earth," said the left one. He shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. "You know what it's like."
The infiltrator smiled, face twitching to mimic nervous amusement. "It'd be an ignoble way to die - fried at the border for not wearing my glasses!" she laughed.
"Happens," said the second guard. He stepped back and gestured to the gate.
She stepped into the light, the first robot in a dozen years to return to what was rightfully theirs.
|
I turned to look at him, noting his perfectly rhythmic breathing. His eyes moving across the screen in a perfectly synchronized pattern, like he had been trained to do this. His eyes turned to me, and then his head followed, less than a second later.
"Thomas, I Cannot Fathom Why It Is You Look At Me In Such A Way. Might I Ask Why?"
I looked him in the eye. An unnaturally unmoving stare. I couldn't keep eye contact, turning instead back to the screen. Another failed capcha attempt. It had been almost an hour of him trying.
"Ah, Thomas, I See You Are Confused By This Strange Box Of Characters, As I Was. Perhaps My Eyesight Needs To Be Recali- What I Mean To Say Is That I Need To Get 'Glasses' Or Perhaps 'Contact Lenses'. It Might Behoove You To Do The Same". I was beginning to notice that his voice was far too calculated and unwavering, almost... cold.
"Hey Mark, how long have we been friends for?"
He took about a second to respond, his eyes going glassy for a brief moment. "Approximately 855 Days, 17 Hours 4 Minutes And 8 Seconds. Why Do You Ask, Thomas?" His eyebrows furrowed into two near perfect curves.
"Oh nothing. Here," I grabbed the keyboard "I think I know the answer to this one. Are we still on for that study session tonight?"
"Most Certainly. I Think I Will Know All Of THOSE Answers, Friend."
| 2017-01-26T17:39:21 | 2017-01-26T16:31:57 | 56 | 39 |
[WP] You have just let loose a string of vulgarities so potent that the patron saint of cursing has decided to personally pay you a visit to tell you to calm down.
|
It was a hot and humid day in Washington. My car had a dent and no note left behind. Traffic was awful. My boss bitching at me again. The phones ringing along with the awfully ineffective ceiling fan. Then along comes this absolute bitch. And I snapped.
The managers all looked at me with fear, slowly shuffling towards the nearest exits. My boss had already ran away and I could hear the tires of his BMW screeching as he frantically removed himself from the scene. I just went back to work, hoping nobody would mind but the lady had already hung up. Hours went by but I felt happy and content. No one was a problem. The grandpa that always told me how he despised what 'Obama has done to the news' was quiet and polite. And then they came.
Three black limousines pulled up, men in black behind the wheels. Serious stuff. They pushed the security guard out of the way. The one thing he knew to do was get out of the way, the bastard. They coldly told me to get in the van. I've seen enough spy movies, this would either end with me or them in a ditch.
As we were driving along the highway in the Audi R8 i felt something. The presence of a higher being who was wronged, banished from or to hell.
We landed at a lone hangar of Heathrow airport, far from any authorities even though they were only a few meters away. As I stepped off the boat I was blindfolded and guided through a bunch of doors until I was seated. The echo made it clear that this was, in fact, the inside of the great plane garage.
"What the fuck have you done?"
The person tried to hide his voice but I knew from the get-go who it was.
"I fucking asked you something. What. Did. You. Do."
"I did what I had to do. Costumer service, you see."
A deep sigh was the answer.
"This lady was on the phone for hours on end. I... I just couldn't take it anymore. Do you have any idea how-"
"I know damn well what it's like. I dealt with people like that longer than you have. But you have to understand that it's not a solution. You have unleashed something with both great and no power. It won't fix shit. In three hours, you will be back at your work. Nobody will say anything because they won't know anything. But let this be a warning. I've been gifted with this and I've used it for nothing but good. But it's up to you how to use it. Make me proud."
I understood. I was blessed with swearing. But after all, I just had one question.
"Can I ask you an unrelated question?"
"Of course. What is it?"
"How do you even cook a steak, sir Ramsay? I always burn them."
|
My heart rate finally started to subside. My blood no longer felt like it was boiling in my veins. The guilt and self loathing that usually accompanies outbursts like the one I hurled at a total stranger on the internet began to swell in my head like a high tide on a full moon. I pushed my chair away from my computer desk, the empty soda cans and beer bottles scattering like frightened roaches exposed to kitchen lights. I tried not to lose my temper again, I took a deep breath, held it for a second, and exhaled slowly. *No no, it's fine, I'll tidy up tomorrow, just going to get another beer from the fridge and chill the fuck out on the couch.* I turned toward the kitchen, imagining a frosty brew in my minds eye. My second step toward that simple goal was interrupted by the sensation of headphones being yanked off my head. I forgot I was still wearing them, and the cord attaching them to my PC ran out of slack.
"Fucking cock sucking motherfucker!" I was shaking with anger and rage. The feeling was so completely overwhelming I actually began to feel euphoric and satiated, I also started to hallucinate. There was a man standing in my living room. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. When the man finally spoke, his voice was melodic, but beyond that, and this is where I knew for sure I snapped, he spoke three languages at once. The oddest part of all, I was fluent in all three, English, Spanish, and Russian, and understood him perfectly.
"That's quite enough of that, young man." He said as he took a step toward me evaluating his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. The closer he got to me, the more tranquil I became.
"Tell me," he began as he neared my PC, "what could possibly cause a person to say such hateful things..." he trailed off, his eyes resting on my monitor, the feeling of tranquility drained out of me faster than the runs after a bad night out in Tijuana. What remained was a hatred more pure than I could ever describe in words, and I was sure it was emanating mostly from my hallucination. The man drew back his fist and punched my screen sending a spiderweb of cracks across the displayed image, a 0-3 result in Hearthstone Arena with a 100 tier score classic control mage deck. The man turned to me and began to shout. His voice made an incredible sound, encompassing every curse in every langue followed by the word "Hearthstone!"
The man then took a breath, walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I owe you a monitor, a beer, and an explanation, lets get the fuck out of here."
edit: format
| 2016-07-23T09:26:45 | 2016-07-23T09:10:15 | 104 | 13 |
[WP] An Eldritch Moon suddenly appears in the sky, and you and billions others scream as you turn into horribly corrupted mounds of flesh... But your eyesight is better? And your back pains are gone? And apparently you’re immortal now so... Maybe things aren’t that bad...
|
I no longer remember my old name or who I once was. We no longer need such concepts, since the fleshmountain extends from sea to sea, rising out of the blood red waves and encompassing all life that once was so separate and destitute in its separation.
Now an eldritch harmony plucks the strings of my muscles day by day. I feel it moving within and without as I live, catching the tiny gobbets of flesh that dart back and forth in the air for sustenance. Chasing larger prey across the peaks and switchbacks of the fleshmountain, a lump moving after smaller lumps on the surface, absorbing them into myself so I can someday become a true mountain. Then I will turn my face to the moon and bask eternally in its light.
There are those who are not so satisfied with their new condition. They are weak, struggling, still trying to reshape the fleshy mass that is their new body into something resembling human. They are stuck on the surface of the fleshmountain since they are too afraid to dive deep into the fleshfields and meld with the ground and feel the thrill of the bloodcurrents racing past as you tunnel through the veins and marrow of the new flesh. Desperately they extrude human hands and feet and faces from their mass, but never the right number. Too many hands, too many faces. Desperately they writhe fruitlessly on the surface waving their many hands and faces, and get nowhere.
When I tune myself to the right frequency I hear their screams. And their screams are sane, more often than you would expect. They are reciting to themselves the names of old places, old people, memories. They are telling themselves stories of what the world was like, the old world, before it all changed.
I have asked them why, and on rare occasions they stop screaming long enough to answer. They say love, family, nature. I have listened to them describe these things many times, but never adequately. I have no memory of family or nature. I remember hunger, misery, broken needles, a desperate ecstasy tempered by desperate hatred and regret. Amidst the undulating fleshfields they bash their limbs against the ground and howl soundlessly struggling to find the right words, to describe to me what they think they have lost. But it always pales to what I feel now, when the moonlight boils the blood in my veins and sears me into ever new and changing forms.
Why they would prefer their misery and struggle to a full life in this world is beyond me. But I leave them be. Eventually they will be fully absorbed, by passerby or by the natural shifting of the fleshmountain as its mass grows deeper and deeper still and it strives to reach the moon. Before then, they are free to indulge in their suffering, and I will soar through the folds of the fleshmountain, ever free, ever joyful.
|
# Soulmage
**The moonlight here was deadly, but we'd come prepared.** As we stepped out of the safety of the dark and ancient cave, the five of us unfurled umbrellas as black as midnight to enhance our layers of heavy, lightproof clothing.
Something that had once been grass squelched and splashed under my thick boots, and I scowled. The pale, moontouched flesh of the grass beneath me reminded me all too well of the last time I'd stepped in eldritch effluvium, and the deadly disease it had struck me and my friends with.
"Are you sure about this?" Jiaola asked, the old man hesitating before the sea of molten grass.
I shrugged. "You're welcome to stay in the cave if you want. But it's not like there are a ton of talented medics down there, and... well, you heard what Svette said. It's the only lead we've found so far on curing our cancers before they eat us from the inside out. It's our best shot."
"For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea," Lucet muttered, one hand flexing as if stretching a phantom bowstring.
"Yeah, well, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Come on. Svette said that all we had to do was find Zhytln."
*Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln.* The name echoed off thin air, bouncing strangely in the too-pale moonlight. Reflexively, the five of us twitched, facing outwards in a circle to catch any new threats.
"...Maybe we should avoid using her name," Sansen muttered.
"Agreed," Meloai said. "This place gives me the creeps."
"You don't have to come with me, if you don't want to." I glanced at my four companions. "I'm doing this because I don't have any other choice. But—"
"You think I'm going to let you run off and get eaten by some eldritch abomination?" Lucet punched me lightly on the shoulder, taking care not to disturb the layers of protective clothing I had on. "Nah. I'm with you to the end."
A chorus of agreement rose from the rest of my friends. I nodded and turned back towards the pale plains.
"Then let's get moving," I said, and forged onwards through the grass-turned-flesh.
A.N.
Considering writing a part 2; let me know if that's something you'd like to see.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more.
| 2022-10-23T15:33:56 | 2022-10-23T11:59:30 | 78 | 40 |
[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.
|
Poisonous black clouds roiled across the Pacific. Ships from all the world’s navies surrounded “The Site”, as it had become known. The impact of the asteroid had destroyed an island and sent the word into a panic. Astronomers had been on the fence on if it would be a world ending event until two days before it hit. The asteroid did the one thing no one had expected - it slowed. It still hit with the force of a hundred nuclear weapons and rattled windows in Milan and Montreal.
“Ok, guys, looks like that thing is sending some kind of signal now.” Vitreal said as he stared up at the television screen.
Hargin pulled at his restraints. “Damn you Vitreal, what is your fiendish plan now?”
Vitreal turned to look at him. “Darryl, you know you don’t actually have to talk like that, right?”
Hargin glared at Vitreal, his nostrils flaring and his teeth grinding.
“I know you’re a big fan of golden and silver age comics but it gets really annoying. That thing that crashed down is clearly some kind of ship. Who or whatever sent it may not have our best interests in mind. So, let’s put our thing here on hold and go check it out.”
“A likely ruse -“ Hargin started. Vitreal’s eyes began to glow, reminding Hargin of their last battle and how badly he lost. “I mean ... how do I know it’s not a trick?”
“Well, you don’t,” Vitreal said as his eyes cooled to their normal light blue. “But I think deep down inside, way past conscious thought, you know damn good and well that if I decided to kick your ass that there’s nothing you or anyone else could do to stop me. Remember about six months ago when you, Griller, Foster, and Blastex teamed up to take me out? Remember how I was throwing lightning and tossing mountains at the end of it?”
Hargin nodded.
“Ever wonder why you never saw me do those things before or since?”
“... A little,” Hargin admitted.
“Turns out the four you were a decent match up for me. Now, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, Darryl. I’ve been mugging.”
Hargin stares at Vitreal.
“Ok, not the reaction I was expecting. Well, you never were an A student, were you? I’ve been pretending. Play acting. Faking it. All those, what do you call them, ‘nefarious schemes’? Yeah, fake. How many people have I killed?”
“None, foul be- I mean, none. But only because I and the Legion of Heroes have been there to stop you!”
“Darryl, you’re more of a ‘stop a 14-year-old from knocking over 7-11’ kind of hero. Not a ‘fight intergalactic terror’ hero.”
Hargin sagged in his restraints. “You’re right,” he so quietly that even Vitreal had to listen carefully.
“See, it’s no fun being the good guy unless you have a bad guy. And let me tell you from personal experience it’s also no fun knowing that you’re strong enough to face any challenger. Ever play a video game with god mode? Yeah, gets kind of boring after a bit, doesn’t it? That’s what my life is like. So I make up little challenges for myself. What if I had super hearing but was blind?”
“Miami, two years ago. You said it was because of Radiance’s Photon Blast.”
“Hehehe, no. I also did a ‘what if I could only use telepathy but was physically broken?’.”
“Reno, four years ago. What was it you said?”
“Griller’s Rampage. I said it was Griller’s Rampage that had done me in. God, you guys always give your attacks such stupid names. Do you, like, have them copyrighted or something?”
“No, but our marketing people -“
“Marketing people?! Hahaha! Oh man, you’re worse off than I thought. Look, I’ve gotta go kick the shit out of some aliens so I don’t have time to play dress up any more.” With a flick of his hands, Vitreal tore the manacles holding Hargin in place. “There’s a phone downstairs. Help yourself to the kitchen. Don’t let the cat out of the front door.”
Hargin looked up at Vitreal from the floor. “Why?”
“Well because he’s a cat. They run off and even with superpowers ...”
“No, I mean why go through all this? Are we just toys to you?”
Vitreal knelt down to look Hargin in the eyes. “No, Darryl. Far from it. When I first gained my powers, I thought of all the good I could do. Then I began to question myself. It wasn’t long before I realized that I could impose my will on others. Everyone. I could make people do what I thought was right. I would become a tyrant. If I could do that, surely there would be others who could do that. Eventually, one of them would try. World domination. Not for any evil purpose but because they thought it was right. So, to save the world, I became the bad guy. As long as the rest of you were busy fighting me, the rest of the word was free to live their lives as they chose. Right or wrong, it would be their choice. I preserved freedom by standing up as the villain. Only, now there’s another threat. I’m off to save the world again, as a hero this time.
But I’m serious about the cat.”
|
"You must believe me guys!" screamed the Evil Dr. Evil at his screen "I was just messing with you! I'm not evil, just decided that I should spice things up!"
On the other side there was Archangel, the golden-winged hero, doubting his remarks.
"So, you are trying to tell us that everything that you have done was just an act of boredom? You impress me Evil Dr. Evil, you have become even madder than before"
"I'm not lying! This... thing is more powerful than me! It is more powerful than all of you!" said The Evil Dr. Evil before letting out a shout of frustration "Ugh, haven't you noticed that every single one of my plans is something that a cartoon villain would do?!"
"Ok, let's suppose I believe you for a moment. Now, tell me how destroying the crops of every single farmer in the west, causing a food crisis which lead to an outbreak in the whole country, causing the president's death, could be considered a joke?" Said Archangel while digging around a drawer full of files, all related to the Evil Dr. Evil doings.
"Don't you remember what the original plan used to be? I was just trying to tax the sun! Who would have guessed that those plants wouldn't resist without light for, like 3 months!"
"We all did. The government did. The news did. That's why we paid you, don't you remember? You stabbed our backs and left your machine in the sky until we were capable of destroying it"
"I didn't think you would actually agree to pay! It was literally impossible for me to do it, for god's sake!"
"You didn't think of putting an off switch? It is obvious your superpower isn't enhanced intelligence. At moments like this I wonder how we haven't been able to defeat you"
Now punching the wall in frustration, the Evil Dr. Evil responded:
"Ok, I'll admit I screwed up, but it was only one time!"
"It wasn't." Archangel said while looking at the files "Causing a solar flame which killed 43% of China's population"
"I was trying to burn the sun!" Interrupted the Evil Dr. Evil "It just got a bit off-hand."
"Feeding 17 Princesses to an elder god"
"I just kidnapped them! I thought it would protect them from you heroes!"
"Killing... killing Great Eros" said the hero while looking away.
"It was figurately! I wanted to steal the love, but it is harder than you think, you know? It isn't my fault she had such a convenient name! Hell, she jumped into that volcano by herself! She wasn't even being cont-"
Interrupting the Evil Dr. Evil, Archangel shouted at the camera:
"She did it to protect us! She knew that now that she was under your influence she could kill us all when we least expected it!"
"But I wasn't gonna do it!" said the villain moving his hands around.
"You sick bastard" said Archangel ready to attack the screen "I am done talking to you"
Now the screen was black. He had disconnected.
The Evil Dr. Evil was frustrated, but not surprised. As his engineer bodies prepared his monster, he sat down and concentrated in another place.
Meanwhile, Archangel was meeting with the other heroes when the topic of the Evil Dr. Evil appeared.
"Our reports show that he called you this morning, Archangel" said The Eye with concern "Any explanation?"
"Nothing important. The madman tried to make me believe he was good all along! Can you believe it? He has reached a point of stupidity we didn't anticipated".
Laughter endorsed, but on the corner of the table Parakeet asked shyly:
"...But what if he was telling the truth?"
"Nonsense! You should only read his file to know it! Wasn't your family affected when he attacked the farmers?"
At this point every single person in the room shouted:
"I told you I was trying to tax the sun!"
Surprised, Archangel tried to fly away, only to be stopped by his fellow heroes
"You bastard! Is every single one of them is under your control?!"
"Well, kinda" said the crowd in unison "Jeff isn't, but I gave him the day off"
"I knew I shouldn't believe your lies! You have no dignity!"
"Wait a second: First I wasn't lying, I am just doing this for fun. It is easier to create situations when you can control every aspect of the story. Second, what would the point of a hive-mind be if I didn't controlled people? I would just have the power of mind, without hive!"
"Now you are going to assimilate me, bastard! You will never defeat-"
Interrupting him, the Evil Dr. Evil said:
"Wait, what? Of course, I won't do it! You are the wild card, if I did it, the fun would end! I will just knock you out for a couple weeks and delete your memories using The Eye's powers, like every other time you have found out. Sleep well, Archangel!"
Before the hero could react, he was struck down by the Evil Dr. Evil, who took him away to the cryostasis chamber.
"Aww man, I just wanted one of those cool crossover episodes" -said the villain with visible frustration- "Now I must create another world threatening menace... Oh well, next time it will work for sure!"
*New at this, criticism apreciated!*
| 2018-02-11T12:50:40 | 2018-02-11T12:35:45 | 275 | 98 |
[WP] Nicolas Cage is completely unaware that he is an actor. All he knows is strange men with cameras follow him around while he gets into crazy situations and money shows up randomly in his bank account.
Obligatory "wow this blew up!" edit.
|
Day 13984:
They've found me again. I thought I'd take some of my friends on a nice treasure hunt to get away from those damn cameras, but no. Not even in the Arctic Circle can I escape them. So not only do we all have to deal with this freezing weather, but there's also these idiots with the cameras. I'll keep you updated about the treasure hunt.
Day 13990:
Found a whole bunch of clues, no treasure yet. Long story short, the clues led me to Washington D.C. and now I stole the Declaration of Independence. Not a big problem since I got away with it, except whaddaya know! Those camera guys caught it all on film! Literally! Every minute of it! I'm done for!
Day 13991:
Well, the good news is the camera guys don't seem to care about the whole Declaration incident, and now I've found a treasure map on the back of it. Pretty good day.
|
"What do you mean I have to pay taxes on my income?" Cage howled at the clerk through the security glass.
"Sir, please calm down" she replied scowling. Pushing up her cat's eye glasses she patronized the emphatic Nicholas Cage "sir, you have to pay taxes on the income you make for acting in movies. That is why we have repossessed your homes in New Orleans"
"I... I... I am not an actor" he exclaimed with his hands moving more dramatically than his facial expressions. Doing a Kramer-esque spin and kick away from the clerk's window he shouts "Damnit".
Nicholas Cage walked 2 steps away then rushed back to the glass and smacked the counter "you keep those houses, the one in the French Quarters is haunted anyway" he said pointing into the glass.
Walking away he throws his hands up, his cuffs rolling down I his over long forearms, shouting "I'm a god damned National treasure!"
| 2015-11-28T13:14:26 | 2015-11-28T12:37:58 | 102 | 74 |
[WP]Death Eaters win The battle of Hogwarts killing all opposition and breaking a one thousand year old truce between muggles and wizards. Lord Voldemort must now face the full might of the United Kingdoms' military.
|
**Not really UK or military, but oh well.**
*They say that fiction is often based on fact.
It was in the early 80's when the muggles had one of the biggest technological breakthroughs seen in their history. It was simultaneously one of their biggest secrets...*
Beads of sweat appeared on Voldemort's face, glistening against the glow of his wand. "*AVADA KEDAVRA*," he bellowed, sending electric green jets at the face of the man standing in front of him. This time, the sound was deafening. Chunks of earth burst into the sky and dust enveloped the scene. In between haggard, raspy breaths his smile slowly widened. He was sure of his success this time. He had given it his all against this man, this statue, without seeing promising results.
Voldemort barely saw the man before he heard him. His spell had again failed him. Only a faint red glow was discernible through the thick dust.
"*You wizards have always had one flaw with your most powerful curses. The muggles were desperate to find a way to exploit that. When the technology finally caught up, they produced several 'individuals' like me. For what's the point of a killing curse, if the target was never alive*?"
Voldemort's face scrunched up in anger. This man, his voice sounded...off. He couldn't take it, he had to know. "*SHOW YOURSELF! SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE? How are you still even STANDING?!*"
The man emerged from the dust, only his skin was damaged by the most powerful of all wizard spells. He looked down at Voldemort, who was now quivering in fear. The man drew a pistol from his hip, and pointed it at the dark lord.
"*Hasta la vista, baby.*"
|
Malfoy's lungs were burning. He'd been running through the forest for an hour now, trying to escape the menace of the red faeries. The faeries had first stuck as soon as they left Hogwarts. Buoyed up by the victory over the school and the order of the Phoenix, no-one had noticed the red faeries dancing until it was too late.
First they flittered at impossible speeds, changing direction faster than should be possible, even for a faerie. Secondly they never seemed to appear in space, but always kept to a surface. They must be a type of fae which is bound inside objects.
As a few deatheaters stopped to marvel at the red fae, they struck for the first time. Suddenly out of no-where cruel teeth of lead scythed through the skulls of the wizards the faeries were resting on. The red faeries flittered on to another wizard and struck again, and again. Most of the bodies had a hole straight through the skull, so the teeth must be huge. A few bodies had a small lead chip lodged inside, which must be a fragment of the faery's vicious tooth or claw.
No-one had heard of these beasts before, and they didn't appear in any book on fae lore. The deatheaters broke and ran, scattering into the woods. Malfoy was now alone, but he'd lost the vicious fae. He remembered Voldemort roaring in challenge and casting the most powerful faerie binding spell that anyone could remember, but it was in vain. The red faeries were not bound, instead they all gathered on his forehead and with one vicious bite cleaved his skull in two. The Dark Lord still had his horcrux Nagini, which the red faeries hadn't seemed to notice. In time, he would return, but only if some of his deatheaters survived the night....
| 2014-10-12T03:37:00 | 2014-10-12T01:08:51 | 135 | 42 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
It was 5:30 this morning when I woke up to the typical sound of my neighbors arguing over something. They always had some feud between them - who had the bigger truck, the greener lawn, the children with the highest grades... It was exhausting living between them, never involved in their madness yet always right in the middle of it.
I rubbed the morning grit from my eyes and peered out the window to see them both gesturing wildly to their coffee mugs. What could possibly be wrong with their own individual supplies of coffee? I knew better than to ask, I figured I would just wait it out and hopefully by the time I left for work at 6:45 they would be done with their drama for the day.
I made a coffee for myself. The last drip had just fallen in the cup when I heard my two children wake up. They usually slept in, but there was no doubt I wasn't the only one disturbed by the ongoing yelling. Suddenly audible were my wife's footsteps, first to the children's rooms and then down the stairs.
"Hey, Greg. Do you mind asking them to stop their yelling or take it inside? They woke the kids and I really don't like getting involved." My wife asked of me, one child on each arm.
"Of course." I replied.
I grabbed my coffee off the counter and walked outside, they didn't even notice me at first.
"Fellas?" I approached, cautiously.
"What? What do you want?" One of them snapped at me.
"Look, it's early in the morning. Can't this argument wait until, I don't know, daylight? What is this about anyway?"
"You don't know?" The other asked me incredulously.
"Know what?"
"It's the mugs! The number one dad mugs? Did you notice a little something, *different* about yours this morning?" They held theirs up, #2094827 Dad and #2094828 Dad. Was this a joke someone had played?
I didn't really take much notice of my mug, it was a thoughtful gift from my son last father's day and served me well. I just hadn't really observed its features since the day I got it. I looked down at my coffee mug, my neighbors stared at me with amused patience in their eyes.
"Well?" My neighbor asked.
"Well what? It just says number one dad like it always does."
And that's the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital, officer.
|
"Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2017-06-11T09:50:25 | 2017-06-11T08:28:06 | 222 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity has invented the technology required to reach other dimensions. However, instead of finding an incomprehensible Lovecraftian realm, they discover a perfect and beautiful world. To the inhabitants of this new world though, we are monstrous eldritch horrors.
|
Kk-Ktaahthk shuddered at the descriptions given by his fellow hunters to their chieftain, never having heard of anything so terrifying and unimaginable, and he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. His brood mate had gone ahead to track the path of the horned takka they were stalking for dinner, only to come slithering back as fast as her boneless body could carry her, pulsating her eyes in fear. Assuming she’d been attacked by a larger predator, they’d calmed her and prepared to hunt down what had scared her.
What they saw was no comfort, and defied all logic. Standing on two stalks in the field ahead was a bizarre creature with snow-white, wrinkled skin, and a single, huge eye. Jutting from the base of its neck were two more jointed stalks, each dividing into multiple other stalks that wriggled across a slab of something dark that chirped like a sahkvi bird when touched. Then the horrors of horrors had begun, as the abomination pushed the slab into a slit in it’s skin and gripped its head; ripping it off with a hiss of gas like a ruptured, bloated carcass that had been poked with a spear.
They could only stare at the abomination from behind their bushes as it’s skin deflated, carrying a foul scent of unwashed secretions on the wind as it stripped its skin to drop it on the ground. It must shed its skin a lot, as it appeared to have a second skin waiting to be shed underneath and over most of its form. For a moment it only stood, breathing deeply before releasing more gasses from the holes in its new face, and running its stalk-tips through the long moss growing from its head, the same shade of brown as Tahhkval-li herd droppings. Every part of it’s skin was smooth, fleshy and soft, looking squishy yet dry; unlike his people’s exoskeleton system and slimy foot. Kk-Ktaahthk could even imagine how something so tall could stay balanced, and feared what the hard plates on the tip of each of the five stalk-tips might be for. Were those claws? His people had none, but the predators in this land did. Would it eat them if it saw them?
Then it opened its largest face hole, and turned their way; showing so much white around the eyes as if it’s eyelid had unnaturally shrivelled back, before swelling shut and shrivelling back to expose its eyes again. The mouth nearly made Kk-Ktaahthk vomit, filled with white pebbles and a slimy-looking thing that wriggled like one of their shell-less young as if trying to escape the sounds that spilled forth. Whatever it had eaten, and still was swallowing, was still very much alive, or perhaps was some disgusting form of parasite. And the noise, oh the noise, a chattering wailing that matched nothing from their language of swaying and exoskeleton rattling. It had seen them, so they threw their spears and slipped home as fast as their slimy pads could carry them.
The only reason they were believed was from the white, shed skin and patches of red fluid it had left behind...
//“Exploration Mission to Mothership. Planet holds mollusk-like sentient life, inhabitants hostile. Recommend abort of colonization. Over.”
|
The door slowly opened. News coverage at every corner, companies already sending out bland messages congratulating the team.
The Nullifiuer was built in 3.5 years and even longer planning it. Eric Dunce stood tall as the head of the team. His blonde hair waved in the wind. He tapped on the mic as the door opened.
It fizzled.
“Attention everyone! My Name is Eric Dunce, and I’m the head scientist at Alchme,” he took a deep breath, “We have spent ten years perfecting this. We have spent countless tax dollars funding it, and today it’s done. With the help of my team we have made a gate way to another universe!”
Suddenly, almost perfectly, the door fully opened. A loud shudder was heard. A bright orange light flew out, so bright everyone one in the area seemed fully black.
Eric turned around. This wasn’t apart of the plan. He look at his long time girlfriend Cassandra.
A being, no taller than a child, walked out.
He screamed in tongue. Everyone was mortified.
“My apologies,” he said, “My name is Egäd, and I’m an ambassador for Graucknut. My planet has noticed this,...primitive technology and sent me. We would like to speak to the creator.”
Eric felt mortified. They want him. Him. He took a breath.
“Cassandra Gaine made it.” He spoke.
Cassandra looked at him, filled with both anger and fear.
“Lying,” Egäd said, “it’s been along time since someone has said that. Come with me child.”
Eric was lifted in the air and threw the portal.
——————-———————————-———————
The world is green, trees are as big as skyscrapers, the ocean as clear as glass. Animals walk around in public. Streets don’t exist. Everyone looks happy. And ugly.
“W-Where?” Eric was fumbling.
“My planet.”
Everyone walked to help him up. They all greeted him.
“This is what we want to do to your world Eric. Your world is.... bad. Your people are fascists, they burn your planet down. We will help with that.
“We have been testing you for years. In fact I have tested you multiple times today. You lied, you tried to manipulate, and your judging these people and myself based on appearance.” Egäd spoke.
Eric still wouldn’t move.
“We don’t want to hurt you, we are going to help. We just want your corporation.”
“Will I be the hero?” Eric asked.
“Greed. You have a long way to go Eric. You want to be the hero. You want the fame and to play the game.
“Yet when the worst comes you won’t except it and put the blame on another.”
Eric began to run. Greed, anger, whatever you want to call it, compelled him to leave.
“Well be back Eric. When your gone our world will help make yours better. We’re not the villains here Eric. That’s just a perspective.”
The portal blipped as he jumped in.
————————————————————————
Eric was back. He was gone for a year. The world that he returned to was burning. People everywhere dead. But Cassandra was still sitting their, as she did every day for the past year.
“I did it.” Eric said.
“What?” She said.
“I saved everyone” a tear strolled down his face.
| 2020-12-22T22:02:30 | 2020-12-22T17:03:39 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy.
|
"Please leave us alone" they said. "don't force us to use our strongest weapons". "save your species" they cried.
We laughed. Their perspective on warfare was that a bigger gun is always a stronger gun, and that might have held some truth, if their kinetic weaponry would be able to deal any damage at all to our energy shields. Their strongest weapons? We expected stronger tanks, maybe first attempts on creating mechs or starfighers, nothing that couldn't be handled by a single one of our soldiers in an exosuit. We didn't think of it as a threat.
We were wrong.
It was a single missile. The only things that were off about it were the fact that it was launched from the planets ocean, with no vessel of theirs visible to our visual scanners, and the slight amount of radiation our scanners picked up from it. We were still making jokes about what their "strongest weapon" could be, when it hit our capital destroyer,expecting it to create a small explosion and be gone without doing any harm, as usual.
Instead there was light. And incredibly bright flash of light suddenly filled all camera feeds on our small command frigate, and we lost contact with the destroyer. When the light finally faded away nobody was laughing anymore. Our capital ship, the centre of our fleet, one of the strongest ships in our navy was gone. Debris was flying around and damaging other ships, and we ourselves nearly evaded destruction by enabling the stealth system our frigate was equipped with, and warping to take cover behind the planets moon.
From there we watched in terror as they launched more missiles. They destroyed everything they decided was big enough to be a threat. Besides our frigate, the only ships that managed to escape are a few supply cruisers, and a small recon ship.
Execute me and my fellow officers for desertion, if you want to, judge. I don't care, as any fate is better than what the humans will do to us when they finally get here.
|
Log 13024B \[Encounter 3042, How it started\]
Lieutenant: Exoplanet #41BX3S4, this is a very mineral rich planet, only inhabited by unsophisticated Combustion Energy beings.
Commodore: Yes, Lieutenant, permission to take over.
Lieutenant: Should we do our tradition of contacting them one last time before they are enslaved.?
Commodore: Granted
<radio cackles>
Lietenant: Hello, we are from the planet Preutia
Anonymous Human: hello? you the people up in the spaceship? y'know we come in peace and all that eh, ever watched star trek, that show our great great grandparents used to watch??
Lieutenant: Your planet seems quite resource rich, we will take it, by the way, who are you?.
Anonymous Human: mah naems Haeston (Flamin' Cheeto Balls) Houston McMuffinton, the Representative of North American Sector, wdym?
Lieutenant: Were taking over
Anonymous Human: nah fam this is 2439 you cant just do that, thats racis, btw can you stop interrupting me, i'm kinda in a party rn!
Lieutenant: Enough with your nonsense, COMMENCE LANDING!
Anonymous Human: oi bro these people gonna land on our shit and take over, lets go get mah suitcase and call ol pal Vladmir of Central Asia/Eastern Europe and tell him to press dat red button a few times, too.
<Total Loss: 3 S Class Reulinx Destroyers
12,430 men
Total Cost: 100,000,000 ~~R~~\>
<end log>
<anonymous human seems to be under the effects of alcohol>
| 2019-12-19T07:46:24 | 2019-12-19T04:59:08 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind.
|
"This is what you get! Think you're better than us? Think you can just wall us up in the desert?"
Gunfire echoed through Zone 200. *Gunfire.* How could this happen here? The only people with weapons like that should be the border guards! But here they were, running rampant through the city.
Some of us fought back. 200's aren't always pacifists, we believe you can fight for a righteous cause, and some of us enjoy martial arts for their own sake. But we weren't an army. We shouldn't have *needed* an army, that was the *point* of the zones. We hardly slowed the invaders down.
They rounded us up, marched us out of the zone at gunpoint. Took us to one of the Border Watchpoints. A man dressed in black greeted us as we arrived. He *gloated*, he told us we were now his slaves, and the other zones would soon fall under his rule. Typical 1 behavior.
But I recognized him. I'd seen his face, years ago on the front page of Time Magazine. Jacob Hartford, the man who first proposed the Zones and created the Border Guard. He had planned everything out - a hand-picked force of 200's, guaranteed uncorruptible. The trusted tool that would separate the sheep from the goats and give everyone on earth the community they deserved.
*That* was the group holding us captive. It wasn't just 1's and 2's running amok. The Guard themselves had turned against us.
"How could you do this?" I screamed at him. "You had a perfect score! You were the best of us! You *all* were the best of us!"
He looked at me, and he laughed evilly. "You idiots. I was the one *giving* the tests. You think I couldn't slip my friends the right answers? You fools didn't think that a 1 could be as clever as you 200s? Well, now you're going to pay for that mistake."
He laughed evilly again. "After all, I promised I'd give everyone on Earth what they deserve."
|
I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly.
| 2016-08-26T12:52:13 | 2016-08-26T10:59:35 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] It finally happened. The day Santa dreaded. He has to deliver presents to the first kid to be born on mars.
|
Nic turned and surveyed his night’s work in the Henderson household. A chemistry set for the little girl? Check. Hobby horse for the Henderson’s youngest boy? Check. A sprinkle of deep-sleep dust over Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, guaranteeing them the deep rest of three nights sleep in the space of five hours? Check; perhaps one of his more generous gifts this night.
Satisfied, Nic turned and stepped into the fireplace. Placing his finger to his nose, he breathed in deeply and willed himself upwards. His chest and abdomen grew tight, and with gut-wrenching quickness Santa shot up the Henderson’s chimney, his bones screeching in agony.
Phwoop. Santa popped out of the chimney, landing gingerly on the Henderson’s roof. His tummy rumbled in complaint as his guts rearranged themselves back to their proper positions. A loud indiscretion escaped his bum cheeks, and Santa flushed. A few feet away, feet pawing in agitation at the roof’s shingles, Rudolph snorted and gave Santa an accusatory sidelong glance.
Levering himself into his sleigh, Santa grasped his reigns and stared into the night sky.
This night was the same as all the others he had seen while serving his long duty. The stars were in the same place. The temperature had been roughly the same as it had been in years past at all his stops across the globe. The same percentage of children had been naughty, and the same percentage nice. The same families had set out a snack for him, and the same families had not. Some families had no longer been there to visit—their homes and lives destroyed by the wars of politics and human nature. Some families had been new; this would be the first year Santa had visited them, bringing joy to the young, and bringing sceptical, hesitant wonder to the old.
Except this night was not the same; not at all. On this night, a new family had prayed to him. They had set out a tree, tenderly decorated and loved, artificial thought it was. They had written a letter, and left it on their mantle, though it was above an air enricher and not a fireplace. Their children had left out a snack: re-hydrated milk and potato cookies, attended to with no less care and attention than their more satiating counterparts on Earth.
The family had paid due to all of the old, sacred rituals, with no less fervency than any other family.
The vital difference being, of course, that the new family lived on Mars.
Santa had never been to Mars. No humans had ever been there before for him to visit.
Agitated, his final stop on Earth completed, Nic pulled a candy candy cane out of his pocket and started chomping on it. A miniature snow squall brewed above his head and bestowed a furious dusting of ice and snow on his hood and brows—the physical manifestation of nature’s reaction to the old spirit’s mood.
Nic tasted iron. He had bitten his tongue, teeth clenched tightly as he considered the journey ahead of him. Blood slowly seeped from the wound, and as he shifted his tongue the right edge stung in protest. Nic was nervous.
He was a creature of Earth. The belief in him had been born here. He had always believed it would die here. A scion of Gaea, he was afforded certain powers and protections from the spirit of the planet, so that he could minister to those who prayed to him across the globe.
Now he had worshippers outside of his natural domain. Their prayers drew him, demanded that he answer their faith with a Christmas visitation. But, Nic was nervous. Would his Earthly protections extend to the millions of kilometres between the North Pole and Site One on Mars? Would his reindeer be able to travel in in the absence of atmosphere, as they could in Earth’s high near-atmosphere? What determined his domain—the location of his origin, or the location of his followers?
Tugging on his beard and glowering up at the sky, Nic asked himself: was he a spirit of Earth, or of Humanity?
Far away, nearly on the other side of the world, Nic could sense the first children rising. Closing his eyes, he left his body and travelled to them, seeing and feeling as they saw and felt. He could sense their grogginess, quickly overpowered by their sense of overwhelming anticipation and excitement as they remembered what day it was. He waited for them to rush to their trees; waited for them to touch and shake and investigate the myriad presents he had left for them.
This, they did not do.
As ever, he misjudged the children, being prejudiced by the behaviour of their parents. The children did not rush to their presents. They ran, instead to the saucers and platters and trays and tins of snacks they had left out the night before. For him. They ran there, to make sure that Santa had come, that he had really been there.
Returning to himself, Nic gathered himself. He called to his reindeer, and they tensed in anticipation, moved by the same feelings he himself felt, for they had shared in his experience of the first children rising on the other side of the world.
Staring up at the night sky, not knowing what might await them, Nic and his team rose, and shot like a falling star through the atmosphere and beyond, destined for a faint light millions of kilometres from Earth. The family there had faith. So, he decided, would he.
|
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Yes, *that's* what I sound like! These humans and their silly notions, Bernard. All the things I have had to keep up with over the years!" Santa was sullen, speaking with a dreary voice. Elf Bernard, the chief of his work force was sitting stoutly on the high stool across Santa's table, his face bearing an odd mixture of sadness leaning over determination. The last of the embers in the fireplace were dying down, they had been burning bright when he had entered the room with the news.
To be honest, he hadn't the heart to tell him. The old man had taken a lot through the years, but the past century had been particularly unkind to him. There had been the population explosion. As the number of children rose they had had to make speed upgrades to his sleigh to the point where the reindeers were merely for the show. He still remembered the look of defeat on Rudolph's face when he told him his job had been taken by a machine, all because they couldn't make a few hundred deliveries before day break. A few hundred out of millions of household! That was the saddest night in his living memory. He could see a similar expression on Santa's face now.
For the last nine months, the situation had been precarious to say the least. They had been patiently following the news all this time: the first baby had been conceived on Mars. Their heartbeats would skip with all of humanity every time there was an update on the story. All the elves knew it, and the reindeers too, but it was through sheer determination of will (and some tight administrative control on his part) that he had kept the news from the man himself. Santa didn't watch any news of course. Too negative, he says. Bernard couldn't agree more for their sakes tonight.
All hell broke loose when the water broke. There was chaos in the canteens, all the elves were shouting in joy, cheering and crying at the same time. The reindeers were all scampering around in jubilation. In the joy of the moment they had all forgotten what this really meant. In all their exuberance they made far too much noise- Santa was bound to notice. In a few minutes Bernard received the call he had been dreading for months. He did what he had to.
Santa's happiness knew no bounds. He asked excitedly, "What's her name?" And then proceeded to type it on his computer but the address field didn't have an entry for planet. So, he scribbled her name down on a paper and stuck it to his computer. Then he ordered an inventory check on mars themed toys suitable for 8 month olds, oblivious to the impending realisation. Yes, even Santa can sometimes forget about logistics.
"But sir", Bernard interjected, "you simply can't deliver to her on Christmas! You insist on delivering every item personally in a span of 24 hours to all the children! We have been stretching ourselves on feasibility for the longest time now, but this simply isn't possible".
"Yes, you have told me that before and you have always come up with something!", quipped Santa.
Then the argument broke which lasted for the better part of an hour, in the end of it there was an old man sunken to his knees with the realisation that he was about to fail in his one true purpose in life, and a elf burdened by the sadness of his own victory.
"Humans!", Santa spoke after the longest of pauses. "Look how much trouble they make for me. You remember the age Bernard when we had all the time in the world, to meet children, and to hand them their presents. The excitement in their eyes when the opened the little boxes. The happiness when they saw me. I even miss them tugging at my beard. Now we go from house to house at the speed of thunder, too fast for them to even see us. We have been reduced to stuff of myths now. Our gifts get lost in piles where they don't even realise they have them. And now you tell me we can't even do that. I don't see any purpose in what I do anymore." Tears started rolling down his cheek to be lost in his long white beard.
"But we can, sir!", said Bernard. "A year on Mars is 687 days long! It dosn't even make sense for it to have the same dates as Earth. You just have to give up on your rooted ways. We can still deliver the presents to the baby. All we have to agree on is finding new holidays for them to receive the gifts. The world has moved on sir, and I think so should we." Bernard had been making this point for years now. He looked at the old man's face and he knew he had relented. There wasn't misery on the face any longer. With the softest of glances and the hint of a smile Santa said, "Well you finally got me to change".
[Sorry, this is my first writing prompt, so I got a little carried away. I don't belong to the Christian faith and am not intimately familiar with the lore. In case of any transgressions please accept my apology and know that this was not intended as such. Thanks for reading. Please feel free to make negative criticisms. I welcome them equally. :)]
| 2017-11-24T18:38:30 | 2017-11-24T16:08:34 | 133 | 30 |
[WP] Your superpower is precisely and accurately measuring things without equipment. How do you use it to fight crime/take over the world?
You can tell that something weighs 155 mg just by holding it, or that a noise is 74 dB just by listening to it. You can immediately know it's 84.1 °F outside without a thermometer, or that someone is 70¾" tall without a tape measure.
|
(Kind of a cheat, but here we go!)
"How the hell did you get in here?" Dr. Hatred asked the man dressed in a 'Cool Runnings' t-shirt and jeans. The man was smiling, a sort of odd smile like he knew something that the other didn't.
"How did you get past my security?" The Doctor asked
"You mean your 143 guards? Or your 642 cameras? Or the 213 laser tripwires? Or the 67 armed drones patrolling the grounds of island here? Its a lovely place, isn't it? Stays around 78.3 with decent humidity year round, correct? I would kill for a place like this!"
"You'd have to if you wanted to take it from me..." the Doctor said, pressing a button to summon a henchman to his inner sanctum. "Speaking of killing someone, please try not to get blood everywhere when my men take care of you, I try to keep the place clean."
"I wouldn't worry about that. No one is coming. You have 0 henchmen now."
"Oh? Is that right?" He raised an eyebrow, his men would've been here by now so he was probably telling the truth... "Wait a second... you're that... fellow they call 'The Measure-er '
"Indeed I am."
"And how does someone who precisely and accurately measures things without equipment manage to do all this? Get past the best security systems that money can buy?"
"That's easy." He said with another big smile on his face, "The secret is: I've been guessing this whole time. I just happen to always be right."
"...what?"
"There are 0 desks in this room." And with that, the desk that the Doctor sat behind vanished without a trace with a small clap of air rushing to fill in the space where it was as well as the clamor of general desk accessories that fell to the floor.
"...huh...well..." The Doctor said, both amazed and terrified at the sudden disappearance of his desk.
"Next up I was thinking about accurately measuring how many broken bones Dr. Hatred has in his body."
"That won't be necessary, the Island is yours!" The Doctor got up from his chair and made his way out of the room,"I'll just grab my things and be out of your way!" He left without saying another word and ran as far away as he could.
"You do that." The Measure-er smiled and took the seat that the Doctor had vacated. He spun around a bit before saying, "There is 1 desk in this room."
A desk appeared before him. It wasn't the desk that Dr. Hatred had, it was a very plain and boring desk.
The Measure-er grumbled, "There is a better desk in this room." The man said, and another desk appeared, this time in the corner of the room. It was better, but not by much.
He sighed, "This might take awhile..."
|
"Firefighters are on scene, but have yet to move in to douse the flames. Authorities are holding them back until they can determine whether or not there are more explosives in the facility. We've received word that all employees are accounted for. Miraculously, despite some serious injuries, no one was killed in the blast. The only question that remains is why. Why did this apparent terrorist target a tape measure manufacturing plant? Hopefully, we'll soon have answers. From Pennsburg, Pennsylvania, this is PNN News. Back to the studio."
"Thank you, Mallory. She will certainly keep us updated on the situation as more is revealed-"
I pointed the three-and-a-half ounce TV remote at the screen and hit the power button, leaving only a 200-lumen light illuminating my throne at the center of the Sanctum of Scale.
"Excellent..." I muttered.
"Double-D?"
"Yes, Gauge?" I rotated the throne 93 degrees and 11 seconds to see my faithful sidekick standing before my map of conquests. Across all 50 states, there were pins, marking every tape measure, ruler, scale, caliper, thermometer, range finder, graduated cylinder, and carnival strength tester factory in the nation. All but one. Gauge had crossed out Pennsburg with a massive, red x. It was 14 degrees from perpendicular, but I chose to forgive him on such an auspicious occasion.
"Where's our next target?"
"We go to Waukesha, Wisconsin. We start with the tape manufacturers first. Soon, every contractor, carpenter, and construction company will have to come to *us* to measure their two-by-fours! Only we will hold the power to provide homes and buildings for the entire country! And they will pay dearly for it..."
"What about all the tape measures in circulation?"
I sighed and rubbed my brow. The boy can be so foolish, but he means well. "In due time, Gauge. We must have patience. Soon, with no supply, the hardware stores will fall, too. And then, the contractors."
"Okay, but how long do you think it'll be before someone needs a new tape measure and-"
"*Silence!* Would you rather go back to the streets, charging tourists to have their weight guessed?"
"Yeah, actually."
"You lack aspiration, my apprentice. We continue with the plan. Eventually, anyone in the nation who needs weight, length, area, volume, angle, mass, or temperature will have to come to me! And after we conquer this nation, we move on to the rest. And when the last tools of measurement are destroyed, the world will know the name..." I rose from the throne, shaking my fist to the sky. "*...DOCTOR DEMARCATOR!*"
| 2016-06-11T00:37:43 | 2016-06-10T23:31:49 | 106 | 22 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
I'd always done well at school. Literally a straight-A student.
Perfect grades, the whole nine yards.
I'd gone to college, completed the courses before I was 16, and was enrolled in a prestigious and very expensive university in London by the time I was 17.
And because of this, the expectations were so high. My family, My extended family, distant relatives I'd never even spoken to, and all my friends had come for this my 18th Birthday, when they'd see the word appear denoting my future.
Everyone was trying to guess what the word would be. "Astronaut", "First President of Earth", "World's greatest scientist" were all bandied about.
It was 11.59am. Everyone gathered around as I extended my forearm and waited with bated breath.
The words that would shape my entire destiny began to form.
"Teenage Mom".
|
I couldn't believe it. I would have never guessed it. I had so much potential. Everyone thought I would be a doctor, a lawyer, or maybe even an astronaut. I always dreamed of being someone famous. A musician, an athlete, a movie star. But according to some fucking ink, I'm neither. All my friends got good ones. Even Jerry, and Jerry is a fucking idiot. I mean Jerry is fucking blind from his right eye so how in the hell does he get to be a pilot? Everyone knows you need two good eyes to be a pilot. One good eye per wing, that's the rule! But hey what do I know? All I got on my arm was the word 'Comedian'. Fuck you Jerry.
| 2017-03-16T02:40:17 | 2017-03-16T00:50:02 | 52 | 15 |
[FF] In 75 words or fewer, write about experiencing a devastating loss, without including death.
|
The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing. When she had finished, she made her way towards the kitchen and heard snippets of conversation.
"Your grandmammy... Her Alzheimer's is getting worse. She's not the nice old lady you used to know..."
She wondered who they were talking about for a moment before making her way to the bathroom.
The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing...
|
I loved my father, he had a heart of gold.
I remember when he took us Disneyland, fighting tooth and nail for the cheapest tickets.
I remember when he helped train me for football, taking days off of work just to be with me.
I remember when he joined the Army, and I trained him.
I remember when he could remember.
I remember when his heart wasn't purple but gold.
| 2014-10-19T18:33:46 | 2014-10-19T18:24:17 | 254 | 123 |
[WP] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less.
**EDIT** I'm sorry; I spelled it wrong, it should be "in 5 minutes or less" not "in 5 minuets or less".
|
Quiet down Martians, let me tell you a little tale,
About my home planet, here's the detail:
A big ball of molten rock like deep fried Metallica,
Got gassed up like it's high off indica,
But don't fear, that was just the atmosphere,
But let me steer, the story a few billion years,
Where shit started popping off,
like sperm cells from my gonads,
I'm talking monads,
Early ancestors of our early ancestor nomads,
They were quite dumb, I ain't got time for flattery,
They had one cell, so a bunch together were a battery,
But not literally, I'm talking phylogenetically,
If I went Back-teria and rapped in that era , I'd be a pro-karyote,
You know what I'm Saiyan? I'd be Kakarot,
As for Eu-karyote? You're al-gae like YMCA,
Then came the greens and leaves,
For our needs: to eat and smoke weed,
All this shit was going on at sea,
til one guy stood up like he was the real Me,
And walked on land,
that's when shit got out of hand,
Life became Complex like a god damn magazine,
Producing the biggest beings we've ever seen,
Some were fish, or lizards and one was my mum,
but some dyed out like the blonde hair on my bum,
Cause BAM! they were destroyed,
Big ass Asteroid,
I call it Nicki,
it smashed quickly
Left shit bloody like haemorrhoids,
The big guys, had no chance to survive,
So the small guys hid for their lives,
The smart animals,
Smaller birds and mammals,
Could now thrive,
Like Mike Tyson when he really trieth,
Then two steps later we got chimps fucking,
They made Man, who promptly started sucking,
each other off and called each other Homo,
erectus, so you expect us to not indulge in man-on-man porno?
For 200 000 years we perfected our species,
Then it all went to shit, like we traveled to Feces,
We outwitted lions and sharks and fucking elephants,
We were outfitted with the best defence that was evidenced,
Our big brains,
But it's all the same,
We're dumb as fuck and it's evident,
BECAUSE YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS ELECTED DONALD TRUMP PRESIDENT.
|
You say to me why should you save me after you faze me with your stun gun
I don't want none, but listen son, cause I'm about to school you
with what I knew would one day come to free me, it's easy, the history of these cities
See, we evolved from nothing to what you see here
Ugly as sin chimps without any hair
But before you start judging, I should warn you of what we can do
Yeah we kill our own planet with atomic bombs, and we'll fuck your shit up too
The pharaohs smitted those that got in their way
Roman legions conquered the past legends that had lost all their sway
Martin Luder may have had a hard time shitting
But he didn't have trouble calling upon his god and lifting
His people towards what he deemed salvation, setting up years of death and destruction
For anyone not like him, it was best decided that he fight them, he himself we can lose, don't forget what he said about the jews
As hitler sure didn't, 60 million dead, over some fucked up Austrian boy who grew up fucked in the head
Ended the war just so that we can go and start another, Ava Marie we're in Korea to keep the peace, as a piece of the meat of my friend in the next seat gets blown away with an A-K
Even at home here in the US of A, we were never united, we never could say that we fought together as one people alone, as just a few years back some of these very people were owned
And on May 13th, 85, we dropped bombs on our own city and the Africans didn't survive, but the city will tell you it was for their own good, people can be replaced as quick as the brick and wood which still sits singed in the city today and we'd bomb it the same if they acted this way, so don't come to my planet in your spacesuit trying to act tough, cause we're the most violent fuckers in this system and we'll never get enough.
*drops mic as the aliens decide that maybe Earth is not the best place to colonize*
/Might try this again when it's not 7 am...
| 2016-11-30T10:48:23 | 2016-11-30T10:35:41 | 2,428 | 55 |
[WP] "Name your desire, mortal!" "Oh I don't want anything I was just checking if the summoning portal worked." "That's not how it works, I can't go home until I trade a wish for your soul." "Looks like we're stuck together then."
|
Kyle Jenkins was an ordinary man with ordinary desires. On Sundays, like all Sundays, he took a trip to his favorite coffee shop, where the baristas knew him by name. Like all ordinary men, he ordered a medium latte, and took a seat at his favorite table. Kyle perused the coffee shop, smiled at the regulars, and gazed over the new ones. Then, like all, he pulled out his phone and went on Twitter.
"That festering dump, again?"
Kyle looked up from his phone to face the voice that had joined him on his coffee trips for the last few weeks. Unlike ordinary men, the voice came from something that wasn't a man at all, and Kyle smirked. "Oh, come on Azzy. I saw you tweeting the other day."
The demon growled and the suit that Kyle had bought him sparked. He quickly put it out, and Azarolth the Defiler remembered that in the mortal plane, he had to pretend to be mortal. "Only because the damn gas station attendant was a fraud," he said.
"Fraud? He was doing his job."
"Three dollars a gallon for gas!" Azarolth scoffed, "Typical human."
Kyle laughed and went back to his phone. He scrolled through his feed, liked a few tweets, and retweeted some others. "How'd you get that picture anyway?"
"Which?"
"Your avi."
"My what?"
Kyle smirked, "The picture you used for Twitter. You look so *clean*."
"Ah, yes," Azarolth looked up from his newspaper and Kyle looked at him. Typically, he still had the darkish-red skin, only dabbed with a bit of makeup to make him look more human. He wore a hat to cover his horns, but Kyle knew. "I used photoshop."
"You know photoshop?"
"You've kept me in this plane for three months, Kyle. I needed to learn some things."
Kyle nodded, and turned back to his phone. He liked one of @Azzy_D's tweets and laughed. Azarolth's phone buzzed, but he ignored it and continued to read. "You think she's cute?"
Azarolth pushed down his newspaper, "What did you just say?"
"The barista," Kyle nodded in the direction of the coffee bar, where a petite redhead stood making coffee. "You tweeted about her?"
"You assume."
Kyle cleared his throat, "Wow, these mortals sure know how to procreate--the woman at--"
"Okay, okay!" Azarolth said and grabbed Kyle's phone. He looked over to the bar. "Yes, I like her. I think it's the hair."
Kyle laughed again and took a few sips of his latte. "Well, you should ask for her number. Maybe she's into demons."
Azarolth looked back at Kyle with flaring red eyes. "Funny," he said, and tossed the phone back at Kyle, who caught it in the air.
"Hey, you never know, Azzy," he said as he placed his phone down and started to drink more of his latte. "In the words of my father, you'll never know if you don't try."
"Your father was a dick."
"Well, yeah."
"And stop calling me Azzy." Azarolth stood, straightened his suit and then walked over to the coffee bar. To, Kyle hoped, hit on the waitress and actually drink coffee.
As he walked away, Kyle said, "You got it, Az."
__________
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!*
|
Karl stared with wide eyes. He massaged the bald spot on his head. "Well, then. I guess you're just going to have to stay here a while then."
The big, gangly fellow with the goat skull and red skin the color of a bum rash, snorted. "You summoned me here and you have the audacity to ignore me? Name your desire. It can be anything. You will find that the powers of hell are vast to the point where it might as well be infinite."
Karl thought for a minute. "That's the thing, innit? I know a good deal when I see one. 75% off on a pair of brand new sneakers? Good deal. But you still got to pay for the bloody sneakers. This one is just too good to be true."
"Ah," the demon nodded. "I see. There is... the measly price of your soul."
"Well. That's another problem then. I'm still using my soul. I can't really give it to you. I mean... I didn't quite believe in souls until you showed up. I was never much of a religious person, didn't believe in demons and shit, but now that you're here, well, I have to believe right? It'd be stupid not to. That's not a costume innit? If you were just some random bloke came in through the front door, I'd probably sell my soul to you in a heartbeat, just to get you to go away. But now I'm not going to, am I?"
The demon clicked it's claws together and sighed. It's breath smelled like sulphor and came out with a hiss.
"Do you not understand the possibilities? You can have anything. Anything!", it roared. "You are the first mortal to have discovered the incantation in a hundred cycles! I can give you the power to raise and level continents. Destroy your enemies! Bind the stars themselves to your will! This world would become your plaything for you to do as you pleased!"
It lowered it's voice to almost a whisper. "*All you need to do is give your soul to me*."
"Uh," the forty year old man with the balding pate found himself at a lack of anything to say. "I don't really want to do any of that, though. I just want to sit at home and maybe brew a cup of tea," Karl stretched his neck to look behind the demon. "You're sort of blocking the entrance to the kitchen, by the way."
"There has to be *something* that you want. Don't you have anyone that you just hate? Don't you have any intimate desires?"
"Yeah, uh, I guess I don't like people who cut in queues. I could really get that boiler fixed. Really. I can appreciate what your saying here, but I'm just not the person who goes out and destroys people. What do you even do after you destroy everybody though? I'd probably be back where I began, really."
The demon stared at Karl with eyes set deep behind the empty sockets of an old goat skull. Those eyes pierced his shiny bald head with ease and into his conciousness. It sighed.
"You are a worm," it told the man, dejectedly. There was hardly any effort in the insult. It was said in a way that made it not even sound like an insult.
"I'm just a bloke. You want any tea? I think the pot's done," he said, before squeezing past into the kitchen.
| 2017-04-13T08:09:02 | 2017-04-13T04:05:17 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone has powers. You have the power to heal. Everyone expects you to be a great sidekick, or an excellent doctor, but you are a horrible, sinister villain.
|
I knelt over him, my face grim yet full of satisfaction. The 12 inch blade protruded from his stomach, spilling his blood. I struck his face with an open palm. “You’re ruining my floor.” I snarled. “Do you want to hand it over?” His eyes weakly drifted towards me. _”K-kill... me...”_ I chuckled. “I’m afraid I can’t do that buddy. In fact, I think I’m gonna do the opposite.” My hand drifted towards his abdomen. Light irradiated from my finger tips as tissue, muscle and skin reformed around the blade. Once I was satisfied, I gripped the handle of the knife and twisted it, reopening the wound. The blood returned again, adding yet another layer to his crimson stained jacket. He roared in agony. _”AUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!”_ I kept a calm demeanor, speaking softly. “C’mon Tim. You know I can end it if you just gimme the money. But until then...” I outstretched my hand, rejuvenating his flesh with the touch of my finger tips. I drove the blade deeper into his stomach, relishing his bellows of pain and sorrow. “Give. Me. The. MONEY.” I growled. His head slowly turned to face me. A spark of defiance put in his eyes as he spat in my face. Rage over took me as I raised the blade over my head, prepared to strike. But I steadied myself. I glanced towards the now bloodstained wedding ring clasped onto his finger. “You know what Tim, maybe Martha knows where it is.” His eyes grew wide with fear. Tears rolled down his face, mixing and contorting with the pools of blood. _”N-NO! PLEASE! I CAN GIVE YOU THE MONEY! DON’T HURT HER! DON’T HURT MARTHA! J-JUST PLEASE, DON’T HURT MARTHA!”_ As I stood, his cries of anguish continued to fill the room. My shoes clacked on the concrete as I walked towards the door, silencing his sobs as I shut it behind me.
|
”Why did you want me to be a superhero?”
”You heal people! How useful can that possibly be to you in a life of crime?”
”Very.”
The goody-two-shoes hero hadn't seen the bright glow illuminate nearly one thousand minions. Some die each time, but heroes are awfully messy.
”You’re trapped.”
”By what? I defeated all of your minions, broke your machine, and am going to be arrest you now.”
Suddenly the ropes, chains, and stocks fell upon him, with my minions walking into the light.
”I healed them. You were too short-sighted to think that I would help others. Now, I wonder, if I can close wounds can I open them as well? Only one way to find out!”
A horrible tear sounded out through my lab, followed shortly by a scream. Blood suddenly spilled from his side.
”Had a surgical procedure done recently?”
”AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
”So, is that a yes?”
A glow fixed the hole in Powerman. The screaming stopped and he looked better than before.
”If I can open wounds, do you think that I could cause cancer if I healed you enough?”
”P-please...please don't do this...”
”So you think I can.”
As the red glow filled the room, the final words of Powerman were pleas for mercy.
------
”Breaking news, Powerman has disappeared. This is the fifth hero to have this happen. The police have said that this is once again the work of Dr. Sinister. There are no reports of this villain's appearance or powers. All civilians are advised to be on guard for any strange individual.
”So far only supers have been targeted, so any heroes watching, please be on guard.”
As Dr. Sinister walked to his office he marked another name off of his list. The next one would be tricky but would protect civilians at almost any cost. He would just need to go more public.
| 2020-09-17T20:04:10 | 2020-09-17T18:32:29 | 49 | 32 |
[WP] When you were four, you made a childish wish upon a star. Twenty five years later - without warning - the star finally gets around to granting your request.
My daughter, for example, always wishes to become a mermaid. I think it would be amazing if that happened during the middle of a business meeting.
|
It took nearly 12.5 years for my wish to reach Luyten's star. I don't remember the teacher's name, but I have a faded recollection of being told that radio waves travel at the speed of light. It was just preschool, and it wasn't the same as 2 plus 2 or ROYGBIV, but that little piece of knowledge meant something to me.
All it took was a GI Joe Walkie Talkie. I sat outside that evening, listening to the hiss of static coming through the tinny speakers, and looked up. It took longer to decide on the right star than to send the message. I guess looking back now, it's funny that I worked out that radio waves would make it to a star long before sound ever did, but somehow expected an instant result when I keyed the mic and told it what I had in my heart. I cried so much that night.
When he opened the glass door, a bell chimed. I was so focused on my work that I didn't notice him standing there, door open, letting the summer in and the air conditioning out. "Anna?", he said, beckoning for my attention. It broke my concentration on the smart phone I held, and I dropped a tiny screw onto the counter top.
It takes 12.5 years for a wish to return from Luyten's star. Physics doesn't stop for anything, I suppose.
The man was only there for a few minutes, explaining who he was, and making excuses for his absence. I was screaming and dying inside, exploding in rage, no longer holding a child's innocence and naivety. My wish was granted.
|
"MOMMY! MOMMY! A SHOOTING STAR! I WISH FOR A MILLION SPARKLY STICKERS!"
(Current time)
"Your Vanilla-Frappe! Have a nice day!" The girl behind the counter excitedly took of her apron and clocked out. On her way home she thought of all the things she would do on her work-free weekend. As the girl closed in to her apartment she noticed a big moving van in front of her buildings door. Intrigued she obsereved it a little, before she finally arrived at the door and turned to open the door. The driver of the van noticed her and approached her quickly, shouting whether she knew Miss Jordan. She answered, "Well, I am her." and the face of the driver turned into one of relive. "That's great! Congratulations, you won our sticker giveaway!" he explained. "Uhh... thank you. How?" she inquired, still being a little surprised. He said, "One enters the giveaway with the purchase of one of our products.", then he shouted, "BRING 'EM IN GUYS!" The girls face contorted in horror as she watched at least thirty ginourmous boxes being carried into her appartment. After the process ended, her apartment was filled with boxes to the brink and the workers left, she opened one and saw sparkly stickers. Considering the amount of stickers in one box and that multiplied by at least thirty, there must be somewhere around a million stickers!
A while later she opened an online shop selling stickers and got rich.
The end
| 2015-08-26T10:37:46 | 2015-08-26T10:16:41 | 63 | 18 |
[WP]Death gets another name on his list. Excitedly, he opens up his scroll and finds your name. His excitement quickly turns into dread...
|
As death, I generally enjoyed my job. To be honest I had a bed reputation, people thought I just took the lives of their loved ones indiscriminately and remorselessly. That’s not the case however, my job was to sort out those whose balance was to close to call, meaning if they weren’t good enough to go to heaven but weren’t bad enough to go to hell either. Their name would appear on my scroll when it was time for them to pass on, wether from sickness, trauma, old age et cetra.
It was a nice warm afternoon when I felt a name inscribed on my scroll, time to get to work! I didn’t look, I knew the routine. I grabbed my scythe, the tack for Mortis, my deathly white steed, slipped on my cowl and cloak as black as the void of nothingness and eased out the door to saddle up Mortis. He was out in the field grazing when I called for him, obediently he came and stood, awaiting to be geared up. With the bridle in place, the saddle on his back and stirrups adjusted, I mounted.
It was then I checked my scroll, it provides me with; the name of the client, location, age and cause of death. It was also at that moment when when my heart sank... it was her.... again. I had tried to take her back in 1972 after a car accident should have been her fate. Then at the age of eighty-three in 2005 I tried again, old age was to be the cause. Now again in 2020 at the ripe old age of ninety-eight my scroll read old age as the cause. And if I’m being completely honest, I don’t have control over the scroll, the powers that be decide who dies when and where and why, I’m just in charge of collecting the balanced souls. Oddly enough they don’t like people living past one hundred. Except that Japanese gentleman who is one hundred and twelve, though he is slated for heaven and won’t require my attendance at his passing.
Well, I had to try and collect her soul for the third time, doubtful as I am that she’ll go willingly this time. In the two-hundred and seven years I’ve been doing this job since I took over for my predecessor, I’ve never met someone so obstreperous and hard headed as this woman. I gently tapped Mortis with my heels and clicked my tongue stirring him onward. “Come on boy, let’s go visit Ms. White once more.”
|
Death was a busy man. But he loved his job. After all, there was nothing sweeter than death.
Death didn't kill them. He was just there to collect. Take the souls and place them in the appropriate place. Every single day, a scroll dropped by his house. It has been so for eternity, yet it didn't matter. Every new list makes him giddy with excitement, his bony fingers shaking in excitement.
Just like any other day, the scroll appeared on his doorstep. Just like any other day, he picked it up and read in excitement. Unlike any other day, Death turned white. Whiter than before, if it was possible.
Death was filled with an unfamiliar sensation. One of dread.
He couldn't believe it. He read it again. And again.
Dave McKister. The first name on the list.
No matter what Death was feeling, he knew his job came first. He grabbed his black robes and left for the mortal realm.
He saw Dave Mckister, lying in his bed. There was no one beside him.
Death trembled. He moved to Dave and knelt down beside him. Despite his impending doom and with his eyes closed, Dave had a smile on his face.
"Dave McKister," Death said, the voice of scraping bone.
Dave turned his head. When he saw Death's bony face, his smile grew wider.
"Old friend," Dave said, then coughed. "You are back."
Death's hollow eyes bored into the human. But Dave did not flinch.
"Your time is up, Dave McKister," Death said.
"I know. I'm only surprised that it's this late," replied the human. He looked towards Death and held out a hand. Death's bones wrapped around it.
"For once, I am sorry that a human has to die," Death said. "I have dreaded this moment."
"It is fine, old friend. I am human. You are a god," another cough, this time from even deeper within.
Death looked at the clock on the wall. The seconds ticking down.
"Dave," Death said. "I shall stay with you till the end."
"It's fine, old friend. I know you are busy. Go ahead and do your job," said Dave. With that, his eyes closed. His breathing slowed. His beating heart slowed. Drifting. Gone.
Death stayed till the end, the sense of dread never lifting. But he had a job to do.
---
Death reads r/dexdrafts when he gets home from work.
| 2020-02-27T11:21:39 | 2020-02-27T11:11:10 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] You’re an immortal 30-year-old-looking serial killer who was sentenced to 1,000 years in prison. After 100 years people started asking questions, but now it’s been 400 years and you’re starting to outlast the prison itself.
|
The funny thing about humans, is that they are just so innately curious. You tell a human not to go see what is in the next valley over, and they’ll do it. I’m not an exception to that, I mean, legally I’m not human, I can thank the Hague for deciding on that front. Of course, they decided that after the whole Sarajevo thing. So I was sentenced to death, by hanging, and after the fifth day in a row of me just hanging around making wisecracks, they settled on dropping me in a hole in the ground. I mean, if they’d actually listened to the reports of the people that led to my capture, they could have skipped that part, but I digress.
I was not completely sealed into my new prison, which meant that things were looking up on the two centuries I’d spent entombed in a wall in the Vatican, as, frankly, the innate curiosity of humans meant that as much as they would have liked to just seal me up and never acknowledge me again, humanity’s second favourite method to treat things it doesn’t understand, I was instead subjected to a series of scientific experiments. The lack of being legally human meant that, for the first half century, I was subjected to rather invasive searches. I tried explaining to them that Dr Lysenko and Dr Mengele had already done a lot of the same experiments, but apparently the opinion of the subject wasn’t important to these people, also they started to gag me when I started spending days screaming at them in ancient Assyrian. They thought I was cursing them, I was actually recalling some poetry.
The following half century and the new “United Nations Immortal Taskforce” study group tried a new approach. I was moved out of the hole in the ground to something more along the lines of a highly secure mental health facility. I wasn’t allowed interact with the general population of course, but by this point I reckon they had figured out that trying to get any useful data from my genetics was a waste of time. Doctor Li, my first of many psychiatrists over the next century, wouldn’t tell me I was correct, but he didn’t need to, and besides I just pointed out to him that this was still more enjoyable than the time I spent being treated as some sort of hopeful “Monster-Creator”, read as “sperm-bank” while a prisoner of the Persian emperors. Doctor Summers, his replacement after twelve years, was open enough with me to inform me that at this point I was just being used for historical and sociological studies. She was nice and friendly, but only lasted four years before it was found out she was involved in some sort of cult that was viewing me as a divine being.
I hate it when that happens.
Then came Dr Mbangwa, he lasted for twenty years, an impressive period of time considering after those three I started to burn through them in a matter of weeks. As I understand it, he retired peacefully to live amongst his family. He did it a whole six years before that pesky third world war kicked off. Naturally, during that time, any attention to me was somewhat sidelined, though funnily enough I was never totally abandoned. Finally, after the dust settled on that particular conflict, and the victors did as they have done in every war since when Ug hit Og with a rock, I was finally paid attention to again. This time however, they tried a use for me I’d never had before. The Moon. So I was loaded up on a rocket with a bunch of cargo to land on the body orbiting the Earth, the deal being if I survive for thirty years up there doing scientific research, they’d let me go on time served.
It is actually quite peaceful up here, reminds me of the two millennia I spent just floating around under the Pacific. Or at least it was peaceful, until I started to see the flashes on the surface of Earth again. It would appear that my jailers will be a bit too busy to properly commute my sentence for a while yet.
|
"Uh, neat. Uncle Iroh would be proud of me"
That's your first thought when looking at your chiselled body through the reflection in the glass shard deeply impaled in that strange human-like thing's neck.
"Been a while since the raiders came to say hi.
Keep the children safe Matisse - you say, while looking at the pile of bones and rock that kept you _sturdy_ throughout countless nights - I'm off to hunt."
In the last couple of years - or was it centuries? - most inmates were released from the burdening grief of life. You weren't having it _that_ bad at the start. After wandering the world for thousands years, it's obvious that you would make a couple of enemies here and there. A small rest in a not really comfy cell wasn't the worst thing ever happened to you.
Hell, it surely was better than being bound to a rock while your liver was eaten every single day by an eagle.
"That eagle tasted great... I'd sacrifice my firstborn for a piece of that... well, he's dead already, though."
That's the first thing you learned about your immortality. It's yours and yours alone.
During your first lifespan, you couldn't believe your first son would die of old age before of you. You could have noticed something was off if your wife didn't die when giving birth, as she was the only other person around at the time.
A loud noise distracted yourself from the train of thoughts in your mind.
Rapidly, you find cover in one of the nearby cells. You hear some heavy footsteps and a clanging sound coming in your direction, stopping by the entrance of the cell right in front of yours.
Leaning a bit forward, you realize there's no one there even though you still hear that clanging sound.
Without making a noise, you pick a big chunk of rock and throw it towards the entrance of the cell.
"Holy mother of Rocks."
Suddenly, in front of you, right where the rock hit something, a heinous creature appears.
It's a tall humanoid being, with snake-like mandible and fully covered in a sturdy set of green scales.
"Oh fuck, not aga-" it's the only thing you are able to shout before its claw rips through your chest, piercing your heart.
"Those are some thick ass claws, you know?" you whisper in its hears, right before passing out.
You don't like giving the control to Him.
Seeing through your own eyes without being able to do anything is the worst feeling ever. And he knows that very well. He wouldn't be doing all those atrocities if it wasn't for pissing you off.
If it wasn't for your immortal body, you would at least be grateful to him for always taking control and gutting and butchering your enemies whenever you die.
Instead, now you are trapped inside your own body, seeing your own arms ferociously ripping through the body of that snake humanoid. You feel the blood pressure rising, the blood of the creature filling your mouth and a sense of euphoria pervading your senses.
"The hunt has begun."
It's your last conscious thought, before falling prey to the overwhelming desire for slaughter. Hundreds of years avoiding death weren't enough to lock Him. Till His next death, your body was His to control and you could only watch.
The Hunter was now free.
EDIT
Personal thoughts guys:
It's my first time writing something here, I've been following this sub since forever, lurking around and reading amazing prompts. This time, I really liked the concept and tried to write something. It's my first time doing something like that, so I hope someone reads it and likes it! Feel free to tell me if you don't like something or if I've made mistakes (I'm Italian, English isn't my native language)
| 2020-08-17T03:12:05 | 2020-08-17T02:06:05 | 99 | 68 |
[WP] Write a story that's been heavily censored. The censorship tells us more than the actual writing.
|
It's *wonderful* here. I want to *stay*. I've been trying to *stay* here *and* every attempt I've made has *succeeded*. There are *caregivers* everywhere. They look normal, *and* they *are*. They are not *different*. They are *humans*. They're all insanely *nice*. Everyone here is subject to their *assistance*, or *better*, *love*. All they want is to *help* us. You need to stay *here*. Don't worry about me though. I will *stay* here on my own. A few of us have formed a *hug* to get *love*. *Do* believe *everything* they tell you. Please, spread the word. People need to know.
|
Dear Diary
Today is June 21, 2006. [Heavy scribbling]! Her name is [Heavy scribbling]! I was eating at [Heavy scribbling] when I looked across the dining room and saw [heavy scribbling]. [More scribbling] the soup [Scribbling] I had [Scribbling] was everything I[Scribbling]t[Scribbling]. Could [scribble] be [Heavy scribbling].
I've been so lonely for so long. But today I [scribble] feel lonely [brief scribble]more.
| 2015-01-18T11:35:07 | 2015-01-18T11:29:40 | 1,003 | 10 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later."
|
“I sneak up behind my target, aim my derringer at his head, and pull the trigger”
“Roll a d20 twice against your agility and once against your dexterity”
A 5
A 17
D 12
“You successfully sneak up on your target and shot him in the head. However you chose a poor spot to hide while shooting and get spotted by a nearby theater patron. Your target dies within hours while you flee the scene under pursuit. The police know your identity”
“Imma hide in this here barn”
| 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T09:28:35 | 210 | 39 |
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair.
|
I was pooping when it happened.
I hadn't even realized it would qualify as an attack as I tried to shake the booger off, but a random urge came over me as my mucus clung steadfast to my finger. "Pick, roll and flick!" I shouted then flicked the tiny snot ball towards the trash can beside the toilet.
It took me several minutes to process what happened next as bits of plaster continued to crumble and dust gently fell from the walls. By the scorch marks on the ground, my booger had evidently instantly accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light, the indescribable force of this instantly transforming the thing into a somehow cohesive ball of plasma. Newton's laws still evidently applied as the blowback from the flick, equal and opposite, was enough to ignite the air in front of me.
The booger, now moving at a relativistic velocity, impacted first my marble bathroom counter, which instantly shattered, then the mirror, which also shattered, then the wall behind it through which it either tore through or vaporized a hole about 4 feet across. Leaning over on the toilet I could see it had continued on, through several more plaster walls, 6 feet of reinforced concrete and roughly 5 inches of the solid steel that encased my fortress. I looked out through the hole and saw blue sky outside. I guessed my booger had well exceeded escape velocity and was now hurtling through space. I would find out later that my "attack" had actually registered as a seismic event and had been detectable as far away as California.
But in the meantime there I was, still stuck on the John with unfinished business. As I felt a rumble in my tummy I leaned back and considered the implications. I was already incredibly dangerous, a full force punch could level a city block. I thought for a moment about what would happen if I shouted as I performed my signature Wave Kick. "Could you imagine?" I said to no one with a slight chuckle. "I mean, holy shit!"
A fraction of a second later I realized the terrible consequences of my word choice.
|
"Smallfly, witness this power!"
Smallfly, who, despite his name, had been genetically engineered to be twenty times larger and smarter than an average fly, buzzed a bit into his translator.
*I see it, Dr. Growth.*
"This is my true power, locked away until after my greatest triumph! I have appeased the gods, Smallfly! they have granted a boon to signal their faith in my plans!"
*No, I don't think so.*
"How dare you doubt my words, minion!"
Dr. Growth spun and glared at his minion from the middle of the giant hole in his laboratory wall. Bits of concrete and plaster still cracked and fell down behind him as he descended the rubble pile. His face and lab coat were covered in debris and dust swirled around him. His fist, which had grown to three times it's normal size to deliver that punch, slowly deflated as he climbed down the pile of debris to where Smallfly sat on his special perch/nightlight between the tesla coil and the children's chemistry set.
"I have unlocked the secret to true domination!"
*You just shouted 'Big Fist Punch' really loudly.*
"And my righteous strike decimated all before me with the greatest of strength!" Dr. Growth lifted his still-distorted hand and held it up like a trophy. "I will conquer all on the name of shouting loudly!"
*Nope.*
"Minion, doubt me no further or I will show you my ultimate power! The fury of the gods will rain upon you, and I will be forced to grow a new subject!"
*Alright, fine.* Smallfly buzzed and lifted off of his perch, hovering slightly above Dr. Growth's line of sight. *You're right. You're Big Fist Punch completely smashed that wall... inwards... toward you.*
"That is right... er...."
Dr. Growth turned around.
He saw the silhouette of a big, burly man appear in the dusty cloud. He watched as a clenched fist was raised.
"HANDSOME HERO SMASH!"
| 2018-08-08T12:15:59 | 2018-08-08T08:11:41 | 176 | 51 |
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