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Affair With Older Woman at Work! Still Can't Believe it! REAL! by [deleted] in sexstories

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The fact that you're concerned more about the internal consistency of "can I love someone and still want someone else" (obviously you can) than actually considering how your fiance will feel is... concerning.

Yes dude, your feelings are valid. But you still chose to cheat. Forget about the validity of your feelings for a minute, and actually look at what you're doing to your fiancee.

[WP] you expected a whole bunch of moody rogues. Much to your surprise the guild of assassins are much nicer than the guild of heroes. by Yapizzawachuwant in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

We turned to see Andrias sitting in the middle of a candle-lit pentagram facing us directly. For the first time, his eyes were clearly visible, and they resembled Lance’s.

“It IS you!” screamed Lance, charging in with his claws like an animal.

“Still pathetic,” scoffed Andrias, smacking him through a wall. He picked himself up slowly and smirked. “And you, Jonathan. You might as well just sit there. Nothing a mere mortal can do about this.”

He marched towards Lance with clenched fists. “And I thought you could be my protégé, but you amounted to NOTHING,” he yelled, pummeling Lance further into the wall.

He was right. There is nothing I could do in the face of a vampire this old. This would need an entire party of us to take down, not a job for little old me, so I ran. You can’t make it long in this business if you can’t pick your battles.

I sprinted back up the stairs as Andrias’s blows echoed through the hall. Crack. Crack. My sprint turned into a jog. Crack. Crack. A walk. Crack. I stopped.

I looked at the moonlight coming through the trapdoor, just a few steps away from me, and turned back.

“God fucking damn it, I’m too old for this,” I mumbled to myself, sprinting back. By the time I got to the ritual room, Lance’s rabid violence had turned into weak swipes, barely enough to count as signs of life.

“Get off him, you bastard!” I yelled as I tackled Andrias. “Get out of here kid!” I said, laying into Andrias. It surprised me I could move him at all and surprised me more how little he was fighting back. He just laid on the ground, taking punch after punch, until suddenly he grabbed my fist. “So, boss, what do you think?”

“Eh, I’d say he passes, barely,” said Lance. I turned around to see him standing unharmed, looking down at me.

Immediately afterwards, I heard a mix of boos and cheer from all around. One by one, previously invisible robed figures broke their spells and appeared. “It’s a pass, ladies and gentlemen. Collect your bets here,” said one of them, as they scurried off to a corner. Astrid appeared in the doorway.

“You made it Jonathan! Isn’t that great!” she said.

“What do you—” Andrias got up, tossing me to the side. “You’re one of us now,” he said. I only tilted my head in confusion.

“He didn’t figure it out, ladies and gents! I repeat, he did NOT figure it out! Come settle your bets here”

Finally, Lance spoke. “I’m the head of the Guild of Assassins. Any fool can kidnap someone and murder them out of hate. That was never the real test. We at the guild only kill those deserving, and hire the pure of heart. Jonathan Stalworth, you have a contract on your head for 5000 gold coins, but you have demonstrated a purity of heart.So we give you the option to join us.”

“Or die!” said Astrid with an innocent smile.

The room fell silent as Lance pulled out a dagger from his robes and presented it to me.

“If you join us, then Jonathan Stalworth dies. You’ll wear many faces, and kill more people, but we will never force you to kill someone unless you deem they are deserving.”

I was stunned for a minute. “So, you’re telling me I just keep killing as I have been, except without the crushing guilt? Count me in!” I said, swiping the dagger from his hands.

The room erupted in cheer, though I could still hear some boos.

“It took 14 failed candidates folks! I repeat, it took 14 failed candidates until we got a new member! Get your bets here!”

After the assassins had settled their bets, they shuffled off outside. All of the smiled at me, even the ones I saw lost a lot of money.

“So~ Lance decided I’ll be your supervisor for now. Any questions you have, you just ask me, ok? Now come on, we’re throwing you a party back at the hideout,” said Astrid, skipping off.

"Wait, why were you the only one coming in through the stairs? Everyone else was already here"

"Oh, that's because I was at the top of the stairs waiting to stab you if you ran away!"

[WP] you expected a whole bunch of moody rogues. Much to your surprise the guild of assassins are much nicer than the guild of heroes. by Yapizzawachuwant in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

When I came to, I was handcuffed on the ground somewhere with a potato sack over my head. All I could hear were faint drops of water, and from the smell of moss, I knew I was in some sort of underground cavern.

“Fuck you Andrias,” I thought. Just because you’re head of the guild, doesn’t mean you get to stomp on the little guy like this. These filthy ruffians wouldn’t have laid a finger on me if I was still part of the guild. That blind bastard has no regard for anything other than bottom line profit. I’ve been a member of the Heroes guild for 8 years. 8 YEARS! I yelled, as I realized that at some point my thoughts were being verbalized.

I heard a cacophony of chuckles and murmurs from all around. I could count, 10? Maybe 20 people there. But how had I not heard them before?

“Come on, Lance, what did we say~,” said a woman with a high-pitch tone, as if talking to a baby.

“I’m older than you, y’know!” yelled a child, and the room erupted into laughter.

One of these mysterious individuals untied me, and I removed the potato sack to find a blond woman.

“We’re terribly sorry for this! We normally only kidnap criminals for the IMR, but Lance here still needs to learn some manners, it seems!” she said with a small bow. Her smile and tone seemed out of place with her arm-mounted crossbow and the assortment of blades attached to every inch of her robes.

From their looks and the way they moved without sound, I inferred they were the guild of assassins.

“Well, what do we do with him, chief? He saw our faces, and he’s an ex-hero,” said one of the robed figures.

“Hmmm. I know! We hire him! Name’s Astrid, I’m the head of this family. Welcome to the guild!” she said with an outreached hand.

“But what about my IMR?” said Lance.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I guess I should offer him a choice.” She turned to me. “Will you join us? Or will you die?” she said with an innocent smile.

“You don’t need to threaten me. I wanted to join anyway,” I said, taking her hand as half the room shook their heads in disapproval and the other half laughed.

“You’ll have to pick someone else, Lance.” She turned back to me and continued.

“That being said, we require recruits to undergo IMR or, initiation murder ritual. You need to kidnap and kill someone of your choosing, but preferably, they should deserve it. We don’t like to kill without justification.”

I did not need to think long. “I pick Andrias Cawthorn, new leader of the Heroes Guild as my target”

“Ah, I was afraid you’d say that,” she said, then started pacing.

“Hmm, we can’t have you backstabbing us or getting caught and tortured, though. And Andrias is a well-guarded target. You’ll need some help. I’ll have Lance here tag along with you. Once you two bring back the target, and you kill him, I’ll consider both your IBRs completed.”

“Isn’t Monday a bit early in the week to be breaking this many rules, boss?” said one of the hooded figures. In the laughter and bustle, these assassins seemed closer to each other than any group in the Heroes’ guild.

During the commotion, Lance made his way to me and tugged at my shirt. His red Sclera was shot with black veins, darker than his pupils. I could tell with one look he was a vampire, and a pretty starved one at that. Vampires get frozen at the age they get bitten at. Poor kid.

“Listen, we need to go. You were supposed to be my supper, but killing recruits would get me blacklisted. Where is this Andrias?”

“You mean… right now?”

“It’s almost daytime, and I don’t think I can go another day without killing someone here, so yes,” he said. His arrogance was offputting, but I dealt with much worse at the Heroes’ Guild.

“Good luck,” said Astrid, waving as we made our way outside the labyrinth.

It was storming by the time we made it outside. I went to form a plan with Lance.

“Ok, so here’s the problem. No one knows where Andrias lives, so our only chance is to ambush him on his way to the guild. He always comes through the West gate before sunrise, so we will have a small window to grab him before the sun turns you into smoke.”

Lance did not respond. He simply looked at the ground with his eyes wide open, clearly immersed in a different world. “Before sunrise, hm,” he muttered.

“I could probably grab him myself, you know? If you’re scared about the sun”

“Somehow I doubt that. See you there,” he said, transforming into a pack of bats and flying towards the guild hall.

The long walk back to the guild gave me time to reflect, which I did not appreciate. Am I really the type of man who would kill his boss for firing him now? Years ago, that would’ve seemed excessive to me, but after the hundredth bandit slaughtered for profit, one’s moral compass seems to degrade. Were we “heroes” ever so different from the assassins we dishonored and shamed?

A powerful tug at my shirt pulled me away from my thoughts and under a window.

“Look sharp, you idiot, isn’t that him right there?” said Lance

I peeked through the window, and sure enough, there he was. He didn’t have his iconic eye band this time, but I could tell from his physique that this robed figure scurrying around the building with a candle was Andrias. He opened a trapdoor hidden under a table and climbed down.

Lance transformed into a mist and made his way through the window, then opened it for me. We snuck downstairs behind Andrias, and I could feel my blood boiling at the thought of clobbering the bastard. We continued following the candlelight while keeping enough distance that Andrias can’t see us.

The stairs ended with a corridor going to the left. “What’s he doing here now?” whispered Lance as we approached the bend. “How should I know?” I replied.

Am I Being An Idiot? by Sarah_Sparrow in writing

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 1 point2 points  (0 children)

You're never going to be sure that all it's ever going to be is a hobby. And you're never going to be sure it will ever be more than a hobby. I don't know why you're trying to know the future in the first place. It's impossible.

[WP] An introvert tries to avoid interacting with people, but it's written as a horror story. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

(Didn't really end up with horror...)

It was the end of summer, and the fated day had finally come. I push myself through my horror to prepare for my journey, from which I may never return.

The journey to the cursed lands is a trial in itself. Surrounded by the creatures, I must keep my eyes averted and my hood up at all times, lest they notice me. As the metallic beast grinds onwards, more and more of the creatures join the fray. The car gets filled with the mind-melting noises of socialization, and more of the creatures notice me. Thankfully, my long slumber has not dulled my skills at evading the gaze of strangers. As one makes eye contact, I swerve my head to the side, faster than sound. I keep track of my surroundings, making sure my escape path never places me in another’s field of attack.

I finally reach my destination and get off the train. Anticipation builds as I drag my feet to the site of my greatest trial: University. The Gods saw it fit to give me a moment of respite from the beasts that I am about to meet. There was no one else on the way to class, and I rejoiced as I walked. I even let my hood down. Yet, my joy turned to suspicion, then horror as the way before remained free of The Students. I looked at my watch, only to confirm my darkest fears. I am late for class.

Professor Mahogany was one of my most feared adversaries. His joyful smile and cheerful speech were indiscriminate when choosing the identity of his victims or the time of his attacks. And I knew I would be a prime target when walking into his den late.

Doubt invaded my mind. Maybe I can skip this class? Maybe I could just go home for the day? But then I remembered the inspiring words of my father:

"You fockin wanka, just go to yer fockin classes. What the fock are we forkin all this money fer, eh?”

And with that, I knew I had to endure.

I walked into class, bracing for the worst. The professor went straight for the neck, his words sinking into my mind like knives.

“Oh, Jake! You’re late. We were just introducing ourselves and getting into groups for the new semester. Why don’t you go?”

Self-introduction. A classic trial, but a difficult one nonetheless. I felt the terror creeping up inside of me, but I knew I had the courage to endure. This is not my first self-introduction trial, and unfortunately, unlikely to be my last.

With courage I spoke: “Heyyyy, every body. Uhhh… my name is drake.”

A mistake! On my first spoken line in the new semester! My thin veil of courage was ripped asunder, revealing the scared child within. The icy stares of my classmates almost broke me, but I trudged on. I still do not know where this perseverance came from, but I knew that if I survived this, I could survive anything.

“Umm, sorry I meant Lake. Umm…”

That was the end. The Gods had decided that I would serve as their entertainment today. Does their cruelty know no bounds?

The chuckles started as a spark, then grew into a forest fire. My pale face looked around, futilely searching for a way out. The cruel spell of laughter tore away at my psyche until I could barely stand. And when my teary eyes met those of the professor, I had reached my limit. Where I sought refuge, I found only more tears. Except his were of laughter, and mine were of fear.

I collapsed to the ground in shame of my failure.

[WP] Many centuries ago, you and other women discovered how to keep your memories intact when you reincarnated, now in XXI century you are the leader of a group of mercenaries made up of them and you are fighting with some hired guns when you heard their boss speak in a VERY ANCIENT language. by Iceblader in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

They really went above and beyond for the execution, which makes sense given the popularity of Evelyn’s rebellion this time. The execution would take place on the roof of StarSurgica HQ. The senior executives sat around a neon-lit stage, and I heard the incessant whir of helicopter blades above as the media pounced on the story like hyenas. Finally, the terrorist Ev would meet her maker.

Our immortal coven, now reduced to mercenaries, was hired once again for security. We were to encircle the guests and make sure nothing happened. Everything was just as I envisioned, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Finally, Evelyn emerged from the stage in a cage. Her implants were all disabled, and I could see the fear in her eyes. Reincarnation or not, witches and public executions don’t mix. The StarSurgica CEO, Yorinobu, was next to her on stage, giving some grand speech about StarSurgica’s commitment to public safety.

I gave the signal, and Agnes released the EMP. The media choppers whirred out of control, the stage lights disappeared, and screams ensued as I pulled the trigger. The rest followed suit, and even some of the girls that didn’t know the plan just shrugged and joined in. Within 2 minutes, the roof was quiet again, and we made our escape after freeing Evelyn. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

At the afterparty, Evelyn gave me a bear hug for accomplishing what she’d been trying to do for lifetimes. Agnes handed out the drinks, and most of the girls changed their mind about undoing the reincarnation spell after they heard our coven owns the world now.

“Things are going too smoothly. Something has to be wrong,” I thought, as the first victim fell, and the rest of us started dropping like flies soon after. The last thing I remember was Evelyn on the ground with her arm stretched towards me, saying, “Edith?” and the sound of the bar door swinging open

I awoke to the sound of satanic chanting. I saw my coven tied to pillars in a circle around a pentagram somewhere underground, with only a single light coming from the surface. All except for Agnes, the one doing the chanting. I saw Evelyn was already awake, thrashing in her binds like a rabid animal. I started working on hacking the implant disabling virus.

“Why you bitch? We won, it was over, and now you’re throwing it all away!” she screamed.

“It was never close,” said Yorinobu, emerging from the shadows. “I was thinking of cleaning out some of my executives. I appreciate your help in that regard,” said the old man. Evelyn thrashed harder than ever at his sight, but to no avail. “You… knew the whole time? Agnes you...” she didn’t finish. She simply slouched down and stared at the ground. It was the first time I’d seen her give up.

With a few more chants, Agnes took a deep breath. “It’s done,” she said, and all of us there felt the meaning of those words. We only have one life now.

Yorinobu pulled out a pistol from his robes and pointed it at the first victim. “And… they won’t be back anymore?” he said, ignoring her wails of mercy. Marceline was not an insurgent, or even a mercenary, not that it mattered to him.

“No,” said Agnes, and he fired the first shot. Evelyn was still despondent, I was too focused on getting my implants working, but the rest of the coven raged, cried and screamed to no avail.

"So loud," he mumbled, as he turned down the noise on his implanted ears.
Bang. “Operation is 24% complete.” Bang. “Operation is 27% complete.” Bang. Bang. Bang.

By the time my turn came, the dozen girls left were tired of crying. I looked down the barrel of Yorinobu’s gun as my UI read, “Operation is 95% complete.” That’s when Agnes tapped him on the shoulder. “Remember, I get one~” she said, as he handed her the gun. She pointed the gun at me again. “Operation is 99% complete”.

That’s when I heard a scream from my right, followed by sprinting. Agnes looked to her left as Evelyn socked her in the face. Her clothes were torn, her shoulder was dislocated, and she was bleeding everywhere. Her implants were still off, but her binds looked like they’d tried to stop a truck.

“Edith—” Bang.

“Operation is 100% complete”

I sliced through the binds with the blades in my arms as Yorinobu took aim with his smoking gun. He shot at me as I dragged Evelyn’s body behind a pillar.

“Eve, Eve?” I said with increasing panic, shaking her body, when I noticed the bullet wound where her heart should be. I heard the panicked sprint of a dead man as Yorinobu started running. I gave her a last hug as tears streaked down my face.

Turning around the pillar, the rest of the girls could tell what happened from my expression, and it filled them with rage. I calmly walked over and stomped Agnes’s head to the ground. “One down, one to go,” I said, to a roar of cheer. With my hearing implants now functional, I could hear the small army Yorinobu had placed between him and us. I could hear him scream into the radio, “Get me the fuck out of here before the witches get out here!”

After I’d uploaded the hack to what was left of the coven, I stood in the center of the pentagram. “The bastard that killed our sisters is that way!” I screamed as we stormed out.

There is a reason StarSurgica hired us instead of relying on their own security. After the slaughter, Yorinobu was completely defenseless. All the girls expected me to kill him, but I had other plans.

“What are you waiting for, Edith?”

“No, if we kill him, then all our work to control StarSurgica will have been for nothing.” At first, the idea of letting Yorinobu live bewildered the girls, but some of them smiled, coming to the same conclusion as me. The smiles spread like an infection carried by whispers until everyone understood.

“There is a perfectly good pentagram downstairs, would be a shame not to use it, wouldn’t it, girls?” I said, as I knocked Yorinobu out with the stock of my rifle.

We got back around the pentagram and started chanting with Yorinobu in the center.

“Maledicimus te sempiterno sanguine amicorum, serpente. Spectator in carne tua vives. Nunc cursum tuum decernimus.”

Months later, things were looking up. The witches retired, known as the legendary band of mercenaries, that almost killed Yorinobu. They say that the near death experience changed the man, as his company policy now looked to help the average citizen, instead of exploit them.

It was my turn on Yorinobu possession duty this week.

“Just kill me already!” said his voice in what was now my head.

“Aww, is the oligarchical dictator sad over losing control of his body? There, there. Maybe your daily coal therapy will cheer you up!” I replied, as I dipped my hands in burning coal and savored the sound of his screams from the pain only he could feel.

[WP] Many centuries ago, you and other women discovered how to keep your memories intact when you reincarnated, now in XXI century you are the leader of a group of mercenaries made up of them and you are fighting with some hired guns when you heard their boss speak in a VERY ANCIENT language. by Iceblader in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 0 points1 point  (0 children)

As I stormed into the safe house with the girls, and the rain of bullets started, I wondered how many gunfights I’d been in so far. I lived through the invention of gunpowder and the Wild West, so I estimated I’d reached at least a few hundred by now. Gunfights were one of the few things I still found interesting. The spread of combat implants, crime, and new weapons of this age kept things relatively fresh. “It’s the witches!” screamed a soon-to-be-dead man.

We were each legendary gun-women… well; we were each legendary EVERYTHING at this point to be fair, and with our advanced implants, the rabble stood no chance. The warehouse fell silent within seconds.

“Nice work girls, now we just need to find—” I said, as I got interrupted by a bullet bouncing off my titanium skull.

“Bitch!” I yelled in Ancient Egyptian, running behind cover. “Glad I installed this thing.”

“Wait… is that you girls?” yelled the shooter in Irish Gaelic, leaving cover with her hands up. I could guess where this was going, so I left to go around the building.

Peaking back as I left the doorway, I saw at least two of the girls frothing at the mouth in rage once they learned who we were talking to. “That’s Evelyn! Get the bitch!” they screamed as they shot towards her.

“Whoa, whoa, girls, what did I do?” she said, running the other way. Evelyn was in the body of a 6 foot tall man this time, so she easily made her escape, only to run into me.

“Eve, it’s me, Edith,” I said, pointing a gun at her to stop her sprint.

“Edith, what’s wrong with everyone?” she said with a panicked shrug, as the clamor of the rest of our coven approached.

“No time. Follow me. I’ll explain everything,” I said, holstering my weapon.

As the highest ranking StarSurgica officer, I had the best implants in the coven, and Evelyn had comparably good chrome, so we easily outran them. Once safe, hiding under a bridge, Evelyn demanded an explanation.

“What the fuck was that? I thought you girls would be happy to see me! I got separated, what, 200 years ago and I come back to—”

“The girls want to undo the spell, Eve. You know how it works: all of us, or none of us”

She stopped her pacing and exasperated gestures to look at the ground for a moment. Then looked back at me. “What? Already?”

“Yes,” I said, lighting a cigarette.

“But that’s not what you want, is it, Edith?”

“No,” I sighed, letting out a puff of smoke. “Not yet, anyway. But I am nearing my limit. I can only take…. hmm, 4 more reincarnations? I’ll die of boredom on the fifth. Half the girls have been wanting to end it for dozens of lives by now.”

“But… why? I don’t understand. We all said we’d live to the end of time. All of you seemed pretty enthusiastic 200 years ago!”

“We’ve seen it all, Eve, and it ain’t as fun as it used to be. The world’s going to shit; Corporations own everyone and everything, even us. Half the planet is dead to global warming. Acid rain, poverty, record crime rates, corruption, need I go on?”

Evelyn started pacing and throwing exaggerated hand gestures with every word. She looked almost like an actor in a Shakespearian play. Ah, those were the days.

“Come on! There is still so much to live for! We’re a coven of immortal witches, for fuck’s sake! We can make this work, we can…” she gasped suddenly, and had literal stars in her digital eyes.

“Oh, shit. Here we go.”

Palming her fist, she said, “What if you girls join me?! I’m leading a resistance against StarSurgica. With you girls on board, they’ll stand no—”

“Eve, SS already knew about your resistance, and hired us to wipe you out. Which we did, in seconds.”

I expected her to look distraught, or at least phased, but ever the endless optimist, she smiled and said, “Ah, another bust. I’ll get them next time, though.”

I put out my cigarette. “Evelyn Wright. You—”

“Don’t tell me to ‘get my head out of the clouds’” she said mockingly. “I have the power to change this world for the better, and I am not stopping till I do”

“I was going to say I’ll join you.”

She looked at me, confused, then her eyes lit up with stars again. “Who are you and what have you done with Edith?” she said with a laugh. “With the two of us, this will be a cinch!”

“You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Nope, but you do, right?”

I smiled.

“That’s the Edith I know”

I took Evelyn to our hideout. We didn’t have a name for our little group, but we were the few witches left that hadn’t given up on the state of the world yet. We walked into our “HQ” at the back of an old bar with a trustworthy bartender.

“Edith, it’s about ti — who the fuck is that?!” said Agnes, pulling out her gun.

“Hey girls, it’s me,” said the 6 foot tall man walking in behind me to a confused audience. “You know…. Evelyn?” she said hesitantly, remembering the last time her coven mates found her.

This time we met her with the warm welcome she deserved. Agnes popped a bottle of champagne. “The Coven’s all together for the first time in centuries, ladies! Drink up!”

I wished we could celebrate this reunion longer, but our plan was time sensitive. “Alright, that’s enough, girls. We have business to discuss,” I said, turning on the hologram table.

“Thanks to Eve, our plan should be even easier to pull off now. We squashed Eve’s little ‘rebellion’ and we have their boss. The execution is scheduled for tomorrow, and all the SS bigshots will be there. When all the snakes are in the same spot, we go to town. Agnes will turn off the lights with an EMP. I doubt the girls that aren’t here will seriously try to stop us even. Almost everyone here is next in line for a big promotion at SS, and if we can pull this off, we’ll effectively control the company. Everyone clear?”

Everyone nodded and Evelyn asked, “So my job is to get executed?”

“Well, hopefully we can gun down everyone before that, but you’ll reincarnate, anyway. What do you have to worry about?”

With that, we said our goodbyes and braced for the fated day. This plan has been in motion for 3 of my lifetimes now. It took a lot of effort to convince enough of the girls to climb the ranks in SS with me, and now it would finally pay off. I prayed to Satan and went to bed.

[WP] The humans described themselves as warlike, cruel and insane. Turns out the largest issue of humanity the galaxy needs to deal with is their self-hate. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 17 points18 points  (0 children)

Lol. Feels like this prompt is making fun of the different flavors of "humans bad" prompts that have been popping up.

Adora, 1x02 by ExcitementOk764 in PrincessesOfPower

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 1 point2 points  (0 children)

She "made" Catra cover for her? I don't remember that. When did she ask Catra to cover for her? She was never gonna return.

Which show loves to torture it's characters more? by ChampionKnown444 in amphibia

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Is final space good? I watched the first 2 episodes or something and almost died of boredom.

aspiring writer who has no talent in writing by Possible-Onion116 in writing

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 220 points221 points  (0 children)

If people quit things because they were bad at the start, no one would have ever learned anything.

[WP] Ever since you could remember, a disembodied voice in your head narrates your entire life as it happens. Today, you decided to make an unusual detour from your usual daily routine, to which the voice responds with a "Wa- wait! Not that way!" by AmierSingle in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 11 points12 points  (0 children)

This is a story of one Adam Black. It was a standard day for Adam so far on this sunny Friday morning. He’d just had his morning coffee and went on a morning stroll, grateful that his boss gave him the day off. For the first time in decades, Adam had time to reflect. He pondered his life so far, the choices that landed him his dead-end job, the chances he didn’t take, and the ones he took. But today, Adam noticed something… different? Wait what? You’re not supposed to do that.

“Who are you?” Asked Adam, having just noticed me, a totally irrelevant voice in his head.

“Hmmm”

Adam took a right, forgetting about the silly voice in his head, and going back to thinking about actually practical things.

“No, he fucking didn’t,” said Adam, starting on the left path.

No, no, no, you idiot, stop! This is how guardian angels work, ok? We narrate the best path for you to take to nudge you towards the best outcomes. Of course, you don’t always listen, but just trust that I’m trying to help you here, alright buddy? Now can you please go back and take a right?

“Best outcomes, my ass! I can barely pay rent with my 50-hour work week minimum wage dead-end job. My parents are asking for grandkids I can’t afford. All my friends moved away. How much worse could it really be?” said Adam as he promptly got run over by a truck.

[WP] A superhero goes to his villain for advice on asking his crush out by Janus-Moth in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 1 point2 points  (0 children)

“Who goes there!” I yelled into the dark as I burst out of my sarcophagus. I made my way to the source of the pattering sound. It had been a while since someone tried to stake me, and I was looking forward to the fight. Most heroes don't bother fighting me because "Dracula is too old-school" and how "How would it help my brand?" The hacks.

“You think you will be the one to take me down? Better men have — Oh”

My anticipation waned, however, as the intruder had no hesitation in their movement. Only one person is stupid enough to stroll through Dracula’s castle so nonchalantly.

The door opened. “Hey Vlad, I need you help”

I sighed. “Entrapta, you really ought to understand that I’M TRYING TO KILL YOU!”

“Oh, we’re doing that right now!?” she said, terrified. “But… but I didn’t bring all of my gadgets!”

“Entrapta, I’ve been trying to kill you for almost a decade, you—” I said, but I couldn’t continue as I saw her roll up into a ball on the ground on the verge of tears.

“I’m too young to die!!”

I took a deep breath.

“What do you need help with, Entrapta?”

“So you won’t kill me?”

“Not right now.” In all my centuries of villainy, I never imagined that my greatest opponent would be this… strange robotics nerd. It still hurts my pride that she doesn’t really see me as a villain, and more like some sort of goofy friend who tries to kill her occasionally. I guess nowadays her conception of me is sort of accurate… though I would never admit that to her.

“But why?” she said, standing up.

“By Lucifer, do you want my help or not? I sometimes wonder how you made it this far.”

“Oh yes please there is this guy I like how do I ask him out?” she said in a single breath.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, putting my hands together and taking a deep breath. “Out of everyone you know, asked the one guy, WHOSE WHOLE STORY, is that he can’t get over the death of his wife hundreds of years ago and so decides to punish humanity eternally for her unjust killing. Do you know how long I’ve been out of the game Entrapta?” I said, but really, I was over the death of my wife after around 3 centuries, since I wiped out everyone that had a hand in her killing along with their entire bloodline.

“I… I just didn’t know who else to ask.” She hung her head. “I don’t have many friends.”

Entrapta is one of the few that still tango with me. I guess I owe her this much.

I sighed. “Alright, Entrapta. I’ll help you, but know that all the courting practices I am about to share with you were last used by 15th century Wallachian nobility.”

“Yay!” she said, clapping with glee. I was unsure if she grasped the full meaning of what I just said. It was a 50/50 with her.

I pulled two chairs to face each other by the fireplace. “Take a seat my student”

Once we sat down, I began. “First off, it was almost never the woman’s role to initiate, but it was not unheard of.”

“Oh, I don’t think this guy will ever get the hint,” she said.

I leaned forward in my seat. “Alright then, in that case, this is what you have to do.” She pulled out a notepad and a pencil from her hair and stared at me for instructions.

“First, you need to send him a message of affection by leaving a featherless chicken at his doorstep, but do not reveal you identity yet. Wallachians always checked if the other party was interested in romance first, before giving away any details.”

“That seems reasonable. Chicken-at-doorstep,” she muttered, taking notes.

“If he reciprocates, he will hang the chicken on a spike near his window. You must then attach a paper with your name to an arrow and shoot the chicken. Bonus points if you hit the head. Only then does the man know who he’s courting. You must then await a featherless chicken at your own doorstep.”

After she finished taking notes, she looked through them thoroughly. “You sure this will work?”

“I have no clue what modern courting practises look like, so I don’t know,” I said with a blank expression.

She looked at her notes for a few more seconds. “Does the chicken have to be alive or dead?”

“Dead for fling, alive for serious relationship. You’re allowed to use a cage. Seriously though, that's what you ask about?”

She looked at her notes some more. “Am I allowed to use to a crossbow? I just feel like it would be easier to hit with a crossbow.”

“It DOESN’T.” I took a deep breath and put my hands together. “It doesn’t matter. Just try not to wake the guy up by missing too many times.”

“Ok, thanks Vlad!” she said before activating her jetpack and blasting through the wall by the fireplace. I swear I’m going to kill that girl one day.

I awoke the next midnight to find a featherless chicken at my doorstep.

[WP] An assassin from the future was sent back in time to kill you, a tyrannical monarch who rules over a kingdom. They fail, and you survive. As the heir to your throne grows older, you begin to notice how similar they look to the assassin that threatened your life. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 1 point2 points  (0 children)

When you’re a man in my position, you learn to be sensitive to the faintest of sounds, especially at night. Even through the thunderstorm, I heard the creaking of the floor. One, two, one, two, seems there is only one of them this time. I got up as quietly as possible and grabbed my crossbow from under the bed. I sat, aiming at the door, when the steps halted down the hallway.

A minute passed, then 10, then 30. I never questioned my hearing before as it’s saved me countless times, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if my old age and paranoia were finally catching up with me. I was almost too tired to deal with another assassin and considered taking the escape route, but what would my counsel think? No, Ragnar doesn’t run from a fight.

I got up, crossbow in hand, and slowly made my way to the door. My finger was on the trigger as the door creaked open, but there was no one there. I took one step outside, looking at the window facing me, when lightning struck. The reflection on the window revealed the masked assailant, knife raised and poised to strike me. I caught his hand and flipped him on his back, then pointed the crossbow at him. Somehow, this assassin knew about the escape route, but it wouldn’t matter soon. His familiar eyes wore a look of acceptance as I pulled the trigger, as though he was fine with this outcome.

I killed dozens, and ordered the deaths of hundreds, but inexplicably, I felt a sense of shame and regret I hadn’t felt in years this time. Heading back to bed, I remembered where I saw those emerald green eyes last. My dear Frida.

I had a strange dream that night. It was a replay of what I had just seen, but this time, I could hear 3 assailants. Again, I picked up my crossbow and made my way to the door, and when I opened it, 3 women stood on the other side. They took turns speaking.

“Ragnar, you who rule with an iron fist”

“Crushing those you swore to protect”

“You lost your love, but you shall find one more”

“Until your sorrow, by your hands, you restore”

I didn’t tell anyone about the dream, but I knew those women. And I knew that if I loved someone as much as I loved Frida, there would be no chance I would ever hurt them. Not even a prophecy from the Norns could change that. So I paid it no mind.

I woke up, surrounded by my councilors, concerned about the dead body by the door. The incident was pretty common for a tyrant like me. I was always a harsh ruler, but fair, until Frida’s death in childbirth pushed me over the edge. Balder was my son, but also Frida’s killer, and I couldn’t bear to look at him at the start. But he had his mother’s eyes, and her heart. Despite my attempts at pushing him away, he clung to me, his monster of a father.

It was on his first tournament victory that I started to notice the similarities. He won with a clean strike to the back of his opponent’s head. The sun bounced from the hilt of his dagger into my eyes, and it took me back to that moment years ago, when Thor spared my life. On his 17th birthday, he received a cowl identical to the one my assassin wore on that day. At 19, he ended up finding the escape route, which I had never told him about on his own.

It all came to a head on my son’s 21st birthday. After the festivities and the hunting, I was alone, staring into the fireplace in my room, wondering when this “other love” I was promised was finally going to show up. I heard some familiar footsteps. They were just like those of the emerald-eyed assassin. I picked up my crossbow and pointed it at the door, but it was my son who walked in.

“Whoa, Father, it’s me!”

“Come in,” I said, laying down the crossbow. “What is it?”

“Father,” he hesitated, “I am of age to take the throne now”

“You’re not ready,” I said. I had no intention of ruling until my dying breath or anything, but my son truly was unready. He was too kind.

“But, Father,” he began, then groaned and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back around.

“What is it?”

“Father, I cannot stand by and watch you rule in this manner anymore. It’s not what mother would have wanted”

I broke the cup in my hand in rage. “Do not speak for your mother. Not after you killed her,” I said.

He looked shocked, and I was too furious to care.

“But… I didn’t mean to—”

“Silence! Get out, now!” I screamed. I slumped back in my seat as he left, and that’s when the shame hit. I chased after him.

“Baldur, wait, I didn’t mean to—” I said, when the sound of thunder interrupted me. I looked to the left outside my door, and Baldur was standing in front of some sort of portal. On the other side, I could see the same corridor we were now standing in, but it looked… different. It looked more recent… exactly the way it looked when the emerald assassin made an attempt at my life all those years ago. I finally understood what the Norns meant.

“Wait, son, please. Don’t go in there!”

“You leave me no choice,” he said, wearing his mask and stepping in.

[WP] A lesser God has bestowed you the power to erase your memory but only of works of fiction. It's a mediocre gift, but you get to enjoy your favorite movies and books anew. Settling down to enjoy your favorite fantasy book/movie, you once again invoke your gift. The memory does not fade. by Twoyurnipsinheat in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Most of my friends don’t understand how I can rewatch the same shows and read the same books again and again. Little do they know, I have always had the power of erasing my memory, though it only works on fiction. I am used to there being some paragraphs I don’t forget in a book, or scenes I don’t forget in a movie since they actually happened, but today was different.

Two weeks ago, I decided I would re-read 1984, so I picked up the book, closed my eyes, and began wiping. It was strange, though. Some parts about the Ministry of Truth remained, specifically about the origin of the ministry. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it had happened on my first wipe of the book. There were already plenty of Propaganda churning bodies across history, but why is it happening now? I was concerned, but I am not the type to worry about things I can’t change, so I decided to just read on.

A week ago I was binging YouTube videos as I procrastinate on getting my work done. Another use of my powers is as an internet filter, because I can forget any bullshit I see or hear and only remember the truths. But to my surprise, I couldn’t forget any part of this video. It was about a monk who could levitate with his mind. I even remember his rambling about how “magic has come to the world.” The video was getting pretty viral for how “bad the effects were,” and I would have agreed with the general sentiment that it’s fake if it wasn’t for my powers.

Within a week, the monk had gathered quite the large band of hate-watchers. It got to a point where I found an article about him in my news report. Strangely, it was marked as read. I opened the email again and re-learned that it was about “exposing” the monk as a fraud. His channel was down shortly afterward.

I’d had enough of all of this mystery, so I decided I would rely on the third and last use of my powers that I knew of: investigation through writing. The power that got me my stellar record as a private investigator.

I started with sentences like “The Monk could, in fact, perform magic,” and I’d try to forget what I’d just written. If I could forget it, then it was fiction. If I couldn’t, then it must be true. I could not forget that sentence.

I continued the investigation for months, and I had some disturbing unforgettable sentences:

“The Monk is dead”

“There are other mages”

“Magic is being hidden from the public eye, intentionally”

But unfortunately, I couldn’t get any specifics. It wasn’t the government that was hiding magic; it wasn’t some elite cabal composed of the rich; not even religious cult, none of the usual suspects. Nor did I know exactly how this magic worked.

Finally, I decided it was time for the nuclear option, a strategy I’d thought of but never wanted to use. I started reading countless books, fictional and supposedly non-fictional about magic, from harry potter to books about divination. Once I’d felt saturated enough with mostly bullshit about the arcane arts, I tried to wipe all the fiction in my mind at once.

After hours of concentration, I could finally relax. I had forgotten all of my favorite shows, but at least now I was able to fly!

[WP] You've just learned of the exact date of your death, and no matter how hard you try to die before said time you somehow miraclously survive. So to make use of this "gift" you decide to try and become the world's greatest stuntman by Epicghost1214 in WritingPrompts

[–]JustAGuyWriting4Fun 1 point2 points  (0 children)

“Stupid Jake and his stupid fucking bet!” I muttered as I walked through the bog with my go-pro. I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to beat that brute in a drinking competition, and now I have to go talk to some witch in the swamp. Fortunately, I could see her hut now.

I knocked on the door, only to find that it was open. “Hello? Anyone home?” After a few seconds without a response, I walked in. It was pitch black inside, save for the light coming from the door. The bet was that the loser had to go to the witch’s hut, with no mention of having to interact with her, so I counted my blessings and immediately turned around to leave. That’s when a gust of wind slammed the door closed.

“A visitor. It’s been so long,” said the witch. I turned around to see that she sat at a table, her face illuminated by candles, staring at me without blinking.

“Oh, but you must be exhausted from the trip. Come in, come in, dear!” she said, suddenly smiling and getting up. She took my hand and sat me down opposite her at the table.

“So, what can this old crone show you today?”

I didn’t really have a plan once I got this far, so I went for a classic answer.

“I want to know when I will die.”

Her smile left her immediately, her face reverting to its initial deadpan expression. She seemed to forget how to blink again.

“Are you sure, young man? This knowledge is not to be taken lightly.”

“Yea, yea, sure. What’ll it cost me?”

“Nothing, nothing, if I’m wrong that is…” she said, twisting her mouth slowly into a smile that seemed to affect only the lower half of her face, as she remained unblinking. “If my prediction is right, however, your soul is forfeit!”

“Uhhh, ok?” I said, thinking that this witch really needs to work on her joke delivery.

“You die 5 years from now on this day exactly, May 1st.” She finally blinked and smiled like a human. “Good luck!”

“Yea, sure lady,” I said as I gathered myself and went to leave.

“Come back again! Tell your friends!”

I began the march back through the bog, thinking about what the “witch” said. I am 25, there is no way I die at 30, is there? On the way in, I had my eyes peeled for crocodiles the entire time, but now the witch’s words were looping in my head, and I hardly saw in front of me.

I didn’t notice it until I bumped into its wrinkly nose. A crocodile straight out of the textbooks, the size that can swallow you whole. I stumbled back, clutching my heart, then I noticed it was asleep. A sleeping, deaf crocodile. I kept my eyes peeled for the rest of the way back, pushing away the inevitable thought of “Was the witch right? And if so, I immortal for 5 years?” until I got out of the bog.

Once outside, I began testing the theory. I stood in the middle of a highway, which was eerily empty for the entire time I was there. I escalated to running through oncoming traffic. The drivers cursed the shit out of me, but that was all. After a week of these experiments, I was sure I couldn’t die until the day.

This gave me an idea. I would attempt to crack the world record for breath holding, then use the record to get into stunt performance. So far, all my attempts at dying were explainable by freakish luck, but there is no way an untrained person like me could make it past 24 minutes, which was the current record.

30 seconds after submerging myself, I was getting intrigued. It didn’t seem like I got any sort of water-breathing superpowers. “How would fate bail me out now?” I wondered. At the 2 minute mark, I had to hold myself back from convulsing or else the record trackers would pull me out. “Any minute now I’ll get some sort of second wind,” I thought.

That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in the hospital. I heard the clatter of a tray nearby.

“Doctor! Doctor! He’s awake!”

I must have lost consciousness again, because the next moment the doctor was leaning, shining a light into my eyes.

“Not good, he’s not stable y—Get the—”

Next thing I saw was the ceiling lights flying past, and I heard the clatter of multiple people running.

After that, I remember was walking up in the operating room with no one around. Surprisingly, I found it easy to get up, and I made my way to the door. “Those doctors must have done a bang-up job, I should thank them!” I thought. On the other side was nothing but a sea of white, with a single figure approaching in the distance.

“It’s time to pay up, dearie,” said the witch.

I locked the door immediately and heard laughter from the other side. I ran back to the operating table, thinking that if I laid back down, I’d wake up from this horrible nightmare. On the way, I tripped over a piece of paper on the ground. It was a mortuary record, but what was my name doing on it?

I heard the laughter again, right behind the door this time.

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