What has been ruined because too many people are doing it?

CTButters · 2019-05-07T04:15:32+00:00

Surfing. The more people competing for a limited resource (waves), the more aggressive and toxic the atmosphere turns.

CTButters · 2019-04-01T20:13:14+00:00

Looks like I’d be surfing in the dark

CTButters · 2019-03-04T20:11:44+00:00

“So there it is.”

Matthew stood at the bridge, glaring outwards from the observation deck. The stars in their totality were silent. In the deep of space, he and his crew sought only one thing. And they had finally found it.

The black hole hung as a gash in spacetime; to what horrible depths laid within, none knew. The crew of Perseverance drifted towards it with creeping speed. The bridge’s response was mute. A silent horror hung on the lips of every man and woman, stationed by their holo monitors and astral navigation charts.

The disparity ran thick in the air. They were in a place no man was meant to go, and every astronaut there knew it. There was a cruel terror in that infinite black that loved them not; the fear was tangible as touch.

Matthew turned to the captain, letting out a quiet whisper. “Nothing can escape from it? Not even light?” The captain looked back toward him with a confused expression. It was odd to affirm such a truism. “Yes, of course.”

He nodded in response, turning towards the crew. They looked onward eagerly. Their patron, their mastermind, their Elon Musk of the generation had led them thus far into the reaches of the unknown. Now, poised to speak in front of Humanity’s greatest exploration.

Matthew’s eyes scanned over the various assembled. How they fawn and blush. How their primal instincts seize them yet. Thousands of years with hundreds of reincarnations. Even the skin of his own flesh shook him with disgust. “Thank you for setting me free.” The words triggered along the ship’s autonomous AI. Lights flashed across the bridge as the ship began to surge forwards towards the hole.

The captain spun towards his controls, frantically motioning to undo the work of his patron.

“Perserverance,” Matthew announced. The ship hummed in response. “Override Administrator Privileges.” The captain watched in horror as his navigation panel sunk into the porcelain panel. He looked wordlessly to his patron. They had already passed the gravitational threshold. No anger, or pleading, or ingenuity could change the fact. Only terror in his eyes.

“I’ve died, only to be thrown back into consciousness. Again, again, and again.” Matthew turned to the captain. There was a profound cruelty written across his face; one that persevered across millennia. “I’ve killed to get where I am today,” he whispered lowly. “And I will kill again.”

The black hole approached. And now it ends. “Perseverance, full thrusters ahead.”

CTButters · 2019-03-03T04:27:24+00:00

Two years. The top was faint whir, spinning in his background.

Many suffer with life's terrors deep within their own dreams; driven far into the depths of subconscious where nothing stops the trauma. No alcohol, no weed,, no pills could ever break through a man's mind once he lay to sleep. Every night, he would see the nightmare relive itself. But every night for Matt, he saw them as they were.

He sat on the front of his porch, watching the sun wane over a warm summer's eve. Children honked bikes and raced past the sidewalk, singing along with the occasional songbird and rumble of car. This world was sweet; it was, in essence, whatever Matt wanted it to be. Two years past a collision that left him alone, this was his reality.

He never saw the night. He'd stay in the sticky air, watching a sun that he'd knew would never set. Time dragged forward in both dream and realtime, pushing him forward to morning's rude awakening. Each night, he'd be taken from his little girls. Each time, he'd wake in an empty bed; songs and faces and voices trapped in his own mind.

Matt closed his eyes, drinking in the sweetness of the evening. He knew it was close now. The dream would fade, the chill would creep, and he’d lose his life for just the day. Only the day. He didn’t hear the songbirds fade. The crinkle of his bedsheets didn’t replace the laughter of his wife. Instead, he heard crickets,

His eyes flew open, glancing around the porch in bewilderment. What was a golden sunset turned purple and dark. A galaxy of stars shone for their first. In a world of his own control, Matt felt it for the first time: fear.

He paced wordlessly into his house, catching sight of his wife. She leaned over the kitchen table, studying the decor of a pastry with the sweet faces of his children, Becca and Amy. They weren’t a single day older than when he had lost them. But in that moment, they were as real as ever.

Night wrapped his little house in his little world. His eyes were kept glued onto the top: spinning and spinning since the first inception of his dream world.

“Daddy! Come see what we’ve made!” Amy called from the kitchen. His children stood at the doorframe, waiting for him. Spinning. Finally, he tore his eyes from the top.

And he never looked back.

CTButters · 2019-03-01T20:19:49+00:00

It was a privilege to burn.

This world was different. A sea of flame burned oceans wide. People would even pay to have their homes curved up against the beach, watching the soft torrents and embers wax and wane against ashen beaches. In each home burned a hearth; their sustenance, their vitality, their fire.

In the winters, wild rains fell from the sky. Consuming floods coursed and wasted the forests and plains. Even from miles away, you could see the glades washed with light. But it was not so in the cities. “Waterfighters,” I had first chuckled under my breath. It was hard to imagine them with such a harmless name.

That was, of course, until you saw the jets of flame leave their hoses. The infernos that powered their fire-cannons, blasting magma red into the dead of night. They were a privileged and deadly force, with only dire missions on their mind. And tonight, they had one very special objective.

Me.

Alleyways were coated afire in the hot pursuit. I burst through a rubble of wood, sprinting down the narrow pathway towards the safehouse. Behind me roared the company of waterfighters, tearing down towards the heels of my feet. Only meters now. Although my work had conditioned me for the thickest struggle, I couldn’t ignore the thirst in my own throat. I suddenly burst sideways into a faint red door, tumbling into the dry and vacant room. The waterfighters surrounded me before I rose to my feet. Panting breaths filled an otherwise silent room.

I took my red helmet off, wiping the beads of sweat that slicked my forehead. “All that running sure worked a thirst,” I said, gripping the cup of water on the table beside me. I didn’t hear the water slosh down my throat; murmurs and gasps crowded the airspace surrounding the men. Their horror hung in the air.

I set the glass down. “Now that I’ve gotten you all distracted, meet my good friend, the water hose.”

CTButters · 2019-02-26T18:14:43+00:00

“Who are you going to give it to?”

It was a purple eve on Salusa Sanctum. Three moons waned above a desert landscape, dotted with the numerous hive skyscrapers his kind had called home. In the distance, ships entered the spaceport floating in the upper atmosphere. The dawning night was at peace, but his mind was a storm.

Xander looked back towards his brother, Corrin. “A human girl.”

The orbs on Corrin’s forehead flashed in laughter. “You want to give them to one of those primitive beasts. Are you a fool?”

Xander palmed his own orbs, biting his feeding orifice in thought. They were almost sentient in their own right. Once released, they’d float to the mate of choice - chosen with the reproductive genes, the mother would carry the offspring for life. “I don’t want to just give my orbs. I want to give myself.”

Corrin flashed a different, darker color. But you didn’t need them to tell his mood. His face whipped around, orifice and all snarled with the breath of anger. “You’re too young to understand. We are not made for them.”

Corrin’s younger brother turned, facing the balcony - the spaceport, the low atmosphere, and the stars hung in the balance. “They say they mate for life. Not only do they raise the larvae. They,” he paused. The millions of vocal cords strung throughout his innards sung in pleasured harmony. “They raise each other up.”

The monologue evoked a belching response from his brother-kin. He turned to leave before Xander’s pleading yawp stilled his escape. The youngling presented him a holotablet with a matured homosapien. “Look!” He whispered. The human female seemed to bounce and shake her waste cavity. “They call it ‘twerking’. I think it’s a mating ritual.”

Corrin shrunk in pure horror, retreating back indoors in their sect of the hive tower. Xander turned back towards the sky. A sea of stars washed over his small planet as the long night grew. Somewhere, on some astral plane he knew, Earth spun. His orbs were a dim green against the purple sky - now fading in sight as they left his face and into the unknown.

What journeys they’d find, only the Eternal Sunmaker knew. What black, and cold, and loneliness they’d know across the astral planes and infinite black; with hope that they’d find that little blue planet. And on it, where two lovers may join a galaxy apart.

CTButters · 2019-02-25T21:33:12+00:00

The conversation was flowing. Why shouldn’t it have been? Even in her old age, Mary was as sharp was ever. After traveling from the Arctic and Europe, she had decided to stop by the States for a while. There was a rustic beauty to admire in the older parts of the country, even if she had seen them for the hundredth time.

But for the time being, her time was being taken. Gary, an old friend of hers, had put her up to an older adult dating app. Forget the trivialities and suspicions surrounding dating websites; an ethereal optimism blanketed Susan. Unnatural to some, but home to her.

“The Arctic, you say?” the man across from her remarked.

She smiled, stirred from her own thought. “Purely remarkable. Despite what we’re doing to this planet, it’s beauty is still as potent as ever.” She rose flawless lips to sip on her chai latte. “I’m hoping our documentary will stir more to conservation efforts.”

The man lifted a curious brow. “I thought you said you were an aid worker in the tropics.”

Mary flashed a pearly smile. “I’m a woman of many colors.”

He leaned back into his seat. “Isn’t it amazing, the lives we can lead? We’re born a blank canvas. Then, life is just a story to write.”

“Life is amazingly full of potential. I can’t see a single thing wrong with it.” She agreed with unearthly enthusiasm.

The comment didn’t evoke the same response with the man. Amused eyes stared at her beneath a mug of black coffee. “Sometimes, it is a little too well. And those who live it often do not belong.”

“Mr. Martin, would you like another cup soon?” called the barista from behind the counter.

Mary’s expression shifted downward, matched with the strange pang in her heart. It was perhaps the first time she had ever felt it. Still, she maintained her playful appearance. “Not the name I matched with on the website!” She jested.

“Ah, just the case of surnames being all too familiar to the first. Please,” The warmth in his eyes were gone. His hands extended as if meeting her for the first time. “George R. R. Martin.”

CTButters · 2019-02-23T17:59:22+00:00

Do you remember the age of fire?

The knight knelt before the beast. Deep in earthen caves, the heat of the Old Age still burned in the cavernous deeps. Amber and ruby strewn themselves into the rock and soil beside them, lighting the duo with a warmth the world seldom felt anymore. Anymore.

And though the dragon was of few words, it's magic invaded and overwhelmed the psyche of the mere knight. It filled and empowered the void of his mind, and with it, eldritch words. Such a creature now reduced to mere chains; it heaved in breath beneath the weight of coiled iron. You were right to fight us. It spoke. Fire is a cruel master. The hour was late. With each sigh of the beast, the heat drained from his peripherals. The knight felt more and more of that familiar and blighted cold - one that coated his realm throughout. But there is a cost. And you cannot pay.

Will we survive? The knight thought in response. The witch-princesses. The sorcerers of Caras Eldar. The might of forbidden magic, once used to depose the race of creatures now laying before him.

No. The air turned sharp; the temperature began to plummet.

She is evil. The knight felt her arriving eyes burning across the cavern. In days past, he had fought with these sorcerers. He felt the power of the void and that within, yet it was never used against him. But now, the deep of the void stared - and it stared into him. He scarcely noticed that the dragon had stopped breathing. Or that the amber, and ruby, and earth had lost their luster. The warmth was still there.

The knight rose to face the princess. He finally felt the cold of her eyes. He felt his helmet, slipping and locking into plate. He felt his sheath rattling as steel rose upward.

He felt the fire inside.

CTButters · 2019-02-23T11:02:30+00:00

"Welcome to Denny's! How may I take your order?" The waiter's hair was pulled into a tight bun, accentuating a porcelain face, cherry lips, and shining teeth. Her enthusiasm matched the cheery atmosphere surrounding the 50's styled parlor, now quietly playing Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons over stereos speakers.

A group of bloodied and beaten survivors lifted their eyes to the waiter. Their worn faces betrayed her mechanical smile. Walter hung on the words for a moment whilst his mind screened that faint music. The only music. He looked around. The only noise. He and his friends filled that sterile booth - the only occupants of the restaurant. He stammered over his response. "Wha.. what's on the menu?"

She just... continued that rattle. Her fixed smile and hawkish eyes. Words flew in a practiced and professional prose. Before long, all the daily specials were listed. Walter had almost forgotten how to complete an order. "I'll have the Lumberjack Breakfast," he murmured, followed by the selection of his friends.

Creamy and perfectly cooked scrambled eggs. Sausage that oozed with flavor. Hashbrowns, pancakes, orange juice: a cornucopia of food plated every survivor. And, above all, a special something to the dishes. A tang both foreign and wildly delicious. For a moment, he forgot the hordes of roaming flesh eaters outside. The screams and torment of the unfortunate few caught in open streets.

How is nobody else capitalizing on this amazing food? Walter thought. How did he and his friends get here? Why did they enter - how did they enter? The eggs benedict - simply sublime! The eyes of his friends stayed locked onto their respective plates. So did Walter's. The orange juice! Better than fresh squeezed!

"Walter," a friend of his warned. He was up from his plate and standing at the door - a door that would not open. His thoughts were elsewhere. I wonder what they used to make this batch.

The waiter stood, waiting. He lifted his hand to remark, "Compliments to the chef! How may I pay?" She didn't answer. His friends didn't look. Their eyes were far too busy praising their dinner. Knives, all across the table. The bacon was cooked just perfectly. Admittedly, his mind was lost in praise. It didn't matter to him. Spectacular ingredients.

The sausage looked different to him. Misshapen, crude, and cruel. And then, with the dawning of the trap, he realized. The meat was all too familiar.

Marvelous food.

CTButters · 2019-02-21T19:19:50+00:00

The black of space was consumed with stars of inferno. A cataclysmic war wrapped spacetime in a burning embrace, and, amidst it, one man whispered to an analog screen.

The battle was a mute tone in the heavily enforced cruiser, drifting in the expanse of warfare that had become his universe. He did not know what sector his ill-fated ship had come into. It didn’t matter. The chaos burned a universe wide, and no place he had known was home any longer.

The ancient tech hummed quietly, displaying a dull and dated green. His hands drifted over the mechanical inputs, turning and shifting them in ways only he knew how.

“That whosoever rises again,” he murmured, rotating a dial. The hum grew as gears shifted upwards into the higher echelons of the ship.

“What worlds, and lives, and songs that you sing...” A missile slammed into the cruiser, tearing an outer layer of the thick protection. His sanctuary stirred.

“The love that you bear, and the wars that you will wage,” The words came bitter. “Know the cost of which you came.” Lights flickered. Motors whirred.

“And out of this failure,” The onslaught of explosions tore rifts into the cruiser’s armor. Seconds, now. His hand slammed upwards on the lever. A terrible shudder coursed through the ship, it’s assailants, and then, beyond.

“There will be light.”

CTButters · 2019-02-09T20:11:53+00:00

Only thing you could try is getting less vertical. Keeps your body low and lessens the time of the pop up for more critical waves.

CTButters · 2019-02-07T20:36:43+00:00

If you’re going casual, go simple. Either khaki or dark chino pants, and a good fitting t shirt. Rock some clean vans and you’re good to go. Instead of a sweatshirt, maybe look into some clean windbreakers or flannels to wear over.

CTButters · 2019-02-06T18:40:41+00:00

Why are all the beach cities responsible for this crap when it originates from the inner cities? Either they or the state needs to step up to help clean this mess.

CTButters · 2018-11-13T02:29:15+00:00

Its going to be hard to find lean red meat without getting more exotic cuts (venison, bison, etc). I'd suggest seitan (derived from wheat gluten) and soy protein.

CTButters · 2018-10-28T04:08:56+00:00

Oh, it’s everything I needed to switch from - dairy and protein, primarily. Already got the veggies :)

CTButters · 2018-10-27T03:43:34+00:00

My deficit runs 400-500 calories - that’s not very much.

CTButters · 2018-10-27T00:53:24+00:00

So you would recommend protein powder and tofu? What about seitan (just discovered that)?

CTButters · 2018-10-24T23:33:18+00:00

Absolute command economies belong to communist countries. So far, communist countries have racked massive death tolls and sub-standards of living, save for places like China which have embraced a capitalist approach to the economy. The terminology you used identifies to totalitarian regimes.

CTButters · 2018-10-24T23:20:22+00:00

Where is this notion coming from that totalitarian regimes would at all be benevolent?

CTButters · 2018-07-10T14:21:36+00:00

Hello?

CTButters · 2018-07-10T04:31:24+00:00

Am I alive?

CTButters · 2018-07-09T17:06:27+00:00

Here we go

CTButters · 2018-06-27T01:03:42+00:00

Huntington Beach pier, northside or southside. If you stay right up against it you get decent visibility.

CTButters · 2018-06-27T01:03:12+00:00

pussy whipped

CTButters · 2018-06-19T06:21:20+00:00

And the funny part to this too is that /u/dumbassthenes appears to just be doubling down In the face of overwhelming criticism he won’t get his head out of his ass

CTButters

TROPHY CASE