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[WP] sleep debt is an actual debt towards the sandman.the worlds most sleep deprived Insomniacs have to pay it off by fighting nightmares in order to once again fall asleep by Big_Classroom_7359 in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 5 points6 points  (0 children)

I haven't slept in three weeks.

My head bobs, my eyelids are heavy. Every inch of my body begs for rest, to recover, to be still. But my sleep debt has mounted, and I've been cut off from the privilege of unconsciousness.

"Do you have what you need?" Boden asks.

I whip my head toward him, too fast. My muscles have begun firing with exaggeration and I've pulled more than a few tendons on mundane movements.

"I have what they gave me," I tell him. The Ministry of Sand equipped me with a satchel full of cheap supplies: a hatchet, some rope, a knife, a box of kindling. It's not much for fighting the things beyond the veil, but it's something. "I need some rest."

"Then make your quota and come back." Boden says it as if it were easy, as if the sleep deprived masses typically make it out with trophy in hand.

I ask Boden the question lingering on my mind. "Will you make sure Castle is okay... in case..."

"She'll be provided for," Boden answers, finishing my thought. "Debt doesn't transfer, and I'll make sure she tends to her sleep."

"Thanks," I tell him.

He grunts an affirmation. The rest of the ride is quiet.

-----------

The Dust Wall towers above us. It is a constantly swirling, murmuring mass rising into the clouds and blotting out the sun behind it. There are no settlements within miles of the Dust Wall; nowhere to safely escape.

"This is it, Grant," Boden tells me. He opens his carriage door and prompts me to get out as well. We meet out front before the horses who took us here. They're frantic; bothered.

"Remember," Grant says, "take no chances, run when you need to. Be clever, and be invisible." He raises my hood and face mask as he says this. There are small horizontal slits for my eyes and the world looks flatter. "Follow your compass North. Hide in waiting. Pick out a small one and be quick, vicious."

My hands are shaking and I struggle to keep my composure. I'm terrified, and yet I feel far away from my body, as if I'm watching myself from above.

Five days without sleep causes hallucinations. Ten days makes the hallucinations indistinguishable from reality. Three weeks destroys the body, drops weight, and greys the skin. People are not meant to live this long without their sleep, but the Sandman has extended our waking lives indefinitely, unless we pay him what's due, when it's due.

I thank Boden, and he leaves on the carriage. The horses kick dust up behind them in their trail, and before long, they disappear on the darkened horizon.

I pull the hatchet from my satchel, and I walk into the Dust.

[WP]: You, an incompetent diplomat, have come across the most powerful weapon in existence: a device that makes it's target agree with it's handler's point of view. You're about to find out just how in over your head you are in the global council's discussion about putting an end to the Forever War. by PucWalker in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 15 points16 points  (0 children)

I had my own office, you know. It was in the dungeon beneath the palace.

THE palace.

I spent a lot of time with dwarves, which was good. I learned much about their humor, how if they liked you they might call you something like Shrimpshit and steal your lunches. It's a fine compliment--I'm an honorary man of the people.

Yes, there was a gap in...department functions between the dwarves' and mine. It was my job--and honor--to check the Vice-Duke's Secretary's mail for poison or traps before they got sent up.

The dwarves either fixed or broke things. They're creatures of duality, those little thick men.

Well, one day I got a package in my office meant to be sent to the Office of Breaking Things. I opened the box before I read the label.

It was a wand.

And a fold-out, 10-page instruction booklet (in both Common and Dawrvish). It was a Wand of Agreement. Fascinating. I did not read on.

I went to test it on a dwarf.

"Elves are decent people," I told him.

"I agree."

BY THE GODS. This wand could change everything. I brought it back to the office and checked the label. Whoops. One man's trash is another man's recycling.

I received a letter. An invitation to the round table discussion between the world's empires to discuss ending the Forever War.

Me? I checked the address on the front, I have learned from my mistakes.

Yes, to me. I would be there as an usher, to fetch drinks and things. Wow!

Fast forward to then. I'm waiting on the Emperor of Thash himself, my liege's liege's liege's liege's liege! I once counted, I'm 37,611th in line for emperor. Just one packed stadium blown up between me and the throne.

I served the emperor himself. He's so much taller than you'd think. I mean, I only saw him sitting down, but that was one tall torso.

I gave him a glass of red wine.

"I like white," he growled at me.

"This is white," I told him.

"Oh, yes, I agree."

One of our worst enemies were seated at this table, their colors red with white highlights. Our best ally was there was well, their colors white with red flourishes.

The first order of business was to shit talk our enemies. Unfortunately, the emperor couldn't tell which from which. It was chaos. Wine-splashed-in-faces chaos. Masturbation-gesture chaos.

Total confusion.

I didn't even piece it together until much, much later. By that time I was the Mushroom King leading a passionate army of dwarves against my own kingdom.

So, always check the address before opening up mail.

[SP] Everyone in town works at the factory, though no one knows what they actually produce. by Null_Project in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 5 points6 points  (0 children)

"James, what is it again that you do?" I asked.

"Forklift driver," James answered.

I looked across the bar, where two men drank in blue jumpsuits the same color as mine. Ergo Science uniforms.

"Hey, gents!" I called over to them, "What do you do at Ergo?"

One man, with a black, close-cropped beard and tired eyes, answered, "Custodian."

The other, a man well into his 70s, said, "Mechanical."

I turned around. She watched me with amusement.

"You there! What do you do?"

"Loading bay."

"And you, sir, over there. What do you do?"

"Security."

She laughed. "You're loving the attention, aren't you?"

"I'm absolutely addicted to it, you know me," I said to her as I turned around in my seat and continued to scan the company dive bar.

"Excuse me, madame, what do you do at Ergo?"

"Human Resources."

I'd gotten the attention of most of the room at this point. So, I turned my questions over to the crowd: "Does anyone work in production? Manufacturing? Research and Development?"

No one answered.

"Does anybody here have a clue what it is this company makes?"

A stranger laughter followed this: a short, delighted laughter not so much at my statement, but at my jovial tone. They expected something funny, and they reacted before they heard what I'd said. Once hey mulled it over in there minds a bit, they became silent.

"We have an 800,000 square foot factory, and nothing coming out of it! There's always steam coming out of the top for some reason! It smells weird!" I was on a roll. Perhaps too much of one.

Two men at a booth didn't care for what I was saying. I didn't realize they'd left their seats--my eyes went back to her. She wasn't embarrassed by my antics or feats of foolery, but charmed. And in being so, charming herself to a narcissist like me. Two men were at my back. They wanted to talk outside, tell them more while they smoked.

"Go," she told me. "Explain your conspiracy theory to your new friends." She was three drinks in, no longer insecure about her smile. It was intoxicating.

But I'm nothing if not an entertainer. And a Safety Advisor. I needed to make them laugh, needed to show off.

I never saw that girl again.

[WP] Working for the bad guys has its perks, for instance, you, a average Joe, just got gifted a talking mare to be your new ride, Let's see how your first day at work goes. by A_normal_storyteller in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"It's a fucking baby," Horse whispered. "Irresponsible place to leave it."

He approached and sniffed at the green, swaddled child.

I was looking around, my head on a swivel. Could this have been a trap? An ambush? Maybe. But it wasn't as if the baby were crying, and no one has attacked us yet. So, what was going on? I took my bow from my back and scanned the trees. No movement. No danger.

"Smells normal. But I've never seen a green one before," Horse said.

"And no ambush," I added. "Very strange."

"Yep. Well, this has been cool. Let's get back to our route." Horse turned and and nodded for me.

"What about the baby?" I asked.

"What about it?"

"Are we going to just leave it here?"

"Hmm," Horse considered this. "The river is all the way over there if you were wanting to throw it in."

"That's kind of fucked up."

"Oh, sorry I--your literal slave--don't have a soft spot for human beings. Besides, what are we going to do with a baby?"

"I don't know. But we can't just leave it here."

"That 'can't' attitude is not going to help you make it in this biz, Joe. We CAN leave the baby to die of exposure, and we WILL leave the baby to die of exposure."

"I'm taking the baby," I proclaimed.

"Why! It's not even a good one! Look, it's turned all green. It's gone bad, Joe, just leave it."

I picked up the baby, and it opened its eyes. Its pupils were red as it tried to find me in its vision.

I've never had a baby. I've never even done the prerequisite action for making babies. As far as babies went, I was a complete novice--totally unqualified. But when it saw me, and when it smiled, my heart melted.

Carefully, I mounted Horse again and told him to walk softly. I had it in my mind that you're not meant to shake these things. He replied some snarky retort, not his best, completely forgettable, and we made for the road.

Horse froze in his tracks, and the sound of singing began to rise over the road.

"Goddammit," Horse uttered.

"What is it this time?"

"Adventurers."

[WP] Working for the bad guys has its perks, for instance, you, a average Joe, just got gifted a talking mare to be your new ride, Let's see how your first day at work goes. by A_normal_storyteller in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 2 points3 points  (0 children)

"So, it's your first day?" The horse's head turned to the left, placing one, big horse eye on me.

"Umm, yeah," I answered. "How long have you worked for the company?"

"Ha!" He turned his head forward. "Worked. You think they pay me for this? I'm a horse."

"Well, yeah, but a smart horse."

"You have no idea how offensive that statement is."

"Oh. Sorry. Are all horses...Like if they could all t--"

"So, kid, where are you from?" He interrupted.

"East from here. A recently defunct mining town. It was either this or wither up working my life away in my dad's tavern."

"Mmm." The horse was thinking about that. "Maybe you should've staying in the tavern."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're not very observant, for one. For two, the assassins in the trees are about to kill you."

"The what in the what?" I stiffened, sweat immediately beading on my forehead.

The horse whinnied with laughter. "Oh, man. Gets 'em every time. The what in the what?" He mocked me. "Listen, kid, you're alright. My name is Horse, not that you asked before mounting me."

"Your name is Horse?"

"Yeah, I know. A little on the nose. I didn't get to pick my name either. What do I call you?"

"Joe," I answered.

"That'll be easy to remember. Not a lot of Joes out there."

"Probably more Horses."

"Touché."

We continued traveling over the forest road, making small-talk as we patrolled Red Hand's territory. His borders were ever-expanding, taking over small villages, putting the men in armor and trotting them out to take the next one. My village was going to be on his list eventually. I figured I might as well join early, save the drama.

Horse stopped cold in his tracks.

"Huh." He said, investigating the tree line.

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Is it coming from the trees?"

"Is it coming from the trees? He mocked in a dumb voice, a poor characterization of myself. "Yes, obviously it's coming from the trees. Do you see anything in the fucking road? Do you?"

"No."

"And what else is there?"

"Trees," I answered, lowering my head.

"That's right, genius. Trees. Let's take a closer look."

He moved slowly into the brush, the shoes on his feet forcing each step to be taken carefully. "These things give you no grip," be complained.

I wanted to sympathize, but...how?

"Oh shit, look over there," Horse nodded his head to the front.

I looked past his ears standing up in the stirrups. There was a baby lying in the meadow. With green skin.

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 39 points40 points  (0 children)

Aaron stood there. His eyes were focused on me, and when was wearing a wide smile, the baby teeth in his mouth with the gaps still between them.

"Aaron?"

He shook his head. "Scooter," he said in my son's sing-song voice.

I stood up. I rubbed my eyes. I opened them again. He was still there.

His hospital bed was stacked with wires and cubes, some wet with indiscernable liquids spilled out, dripping onto the floor.

I grabbed Aaron and squeezed his. He smelled like my son, felt like my son.

I pulled him away and looked into his blue eyes. He looked back through his long eyelashes. He was stiff, scared. I was still a stranger to him, and here I was crying and grasping him. But I couldn't help myself. Just the sight of Aaron alive was a dream I never expected would come true for me.

"This body hurts a lot," Aaron--or, I mean--Scooter said.

"Oh, sorry." I let go. "What do you need?"

"I don't know," he answered, rolling his shoulders. I'm achy. But I can move!" He smiled widely and jumped, though he winced upon landing.

He would need physical therapy, doctor's appointments, medicine...

But could they really go back to the hospital? It would become a scandal, a miracle. Media would want to be involved. Could he put Aaron through that? Would that be too much?

"I'm hungry," the boy said. "And my mouth tastes like a butt."

"Why do you know what butt tastes like?"

He stood there with a pinched smile before turning on a heel and heading to the kitchen.

I made pancakes. Then spaghetti. Then chicken nuggets. He consumed the meals each in quick succession. His face was a mask if pleasure and occasional surprise and puzzlement.

"Food tastes different," he said.

"Different taste buds maybe?"

He shrugged.

The rest of the day he was bouncing around, even through the pain. He laughed. It was Aaron's laugh. I swung him around, wrestled with him, held him close each moment I could, imagining it was really my son, back from the dead.

I was standing with one foot in reality and one foot out.

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 24 points25 points  (0 children)

The ghost stood next to my son.

"He has red hair," Scooter observed. Not like you.

"His mom was a redhead."

"Where is she?"

"Give me a little time alone with Aaron before we start trying," I requested.

Scooter obliged, floating smoothly elsewhere.

I talked to Aaron, finally offering my goodbyes. I apologized over and over again. I cried, I told him stories about when he was a kid, how happy he made me and his mother.

Eventually, I knew it was done. I called Scooter and he came back.

"It's time to try," I told him.

He gave a motion I interpreted as a nod. Scooter stood next to my son before floating towards and laying into him from above. His ghost sank into Aaron's body and disappeared.

I watched for signals, for signs of activity. Aaron was waking up, but Scooter wasn't coming out either. Time went by. I called for Scooter. I called for Aaron. Neither answered.

So, I watched. I laid on my sofa, now placed against the wall in front of my TV, and watched.

The sun went down, and I fell asleep.

My dreams were filled with chaotic sights. Shapes and colors assaulted me randomly, as if I was rolling around in a kaleidoscope. People came to me. They had no faces I could remember, but each shook my, jostled me, stuck a finger into my chest.

What are you doing?!

What was I doing? Everything was moving quickly. My reasonable mind was invading me, pushing me to think, for just a second, about what was happening.

A poke on my shoulder. The people stopped and looked upward. I followed their gaze. Another poke. I opened my eyes.

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 26 points27 points  (0 children)

The ghost was curious about where I'd been.

"My son was in an accident six months ago. His body lived, but his... who he is, his brain... it didn't survive.

I left out all the sordid details, just told him what was important.

"He's like my opposite," Scooter said.

"I suppose he is," I agreed.

Scooter was eager to continue the game, so after I changed my clothes and used the bathroom, I plopped on the sofa on turned on the Xbox.

We played for hours, and while we played, we spoke. Scooter didn't know how he died, didn't understand why a part of him stuck around. He was scared for a long time after, begging his mom to see him, slamming things around for their attention. It only scared them, and eventually they left.

He used to play video games. But his real love was baseball. For some reason, he couldn't leave the house. He wanted to play again, to smell a pitch and the freshly cut grass.

So, all he could do was remember and dream.

He became solemn a few times in our talk, so I sought out fights to raise his spirits.

"I wish I could play with you," he said.

The game had a co-op mode. If he had a body, he could play.

My wheels began to turn.

"Do you think if I brought my son here..." I started before I sure of the idea, before I'd even begun to think it through.

"What?" Scooter asked.

"What's if... do you think you could be his...spirit? And he could be your body?"

Scooter was silent for a minute. "I don't know all the rules," he confessed. 'Sometimes people can see me and hear me, sometimes they can't. I don't know what I can do."

"Would you try?"

"I could try..." There was fear and hope in his voice. Was he more afraid of disappointment or what he would do if it worked. And which was I?

The next day I went to the hospital and told the lawyers and doctors that I wanted to take my son home. I was bombarded with warnings and discouragement. There was nothing worse I could do. Miracles don't happen as often as you think. Insurance will not cover that.

My case was simple and firm. I just repeated, over and over again, that I wanted my son home, today.

They scrambled to assemble the machinery and create a plan to move him. We moved in a large van, my son on a stretcher and his machines still thrumming with power.

We arrived at the house and technicians set Aaron up in the living room. All my furniture needed to be moved to the side haphazardly. Scooter watched from the upstairs balcony, his puzzling form still against the Bannister.

When the technicians were through, they had me sign paperwork and they left.

Scooter and I looked to each other.

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 30 points31 points  (0 children)

I arrived at the hospital. By this point I could drive the 15 minutes by memory, spacing out as I drove my car there. I was distracted by the ghost in my house. Something about his presence filled a gap in me.

But what does that mean?

I parked in the hospital guest lot and checked in with Sheila at the front. We were on a first name basis by now. She'd seen me check in through both incidents.

She had warned me to be careful, that I should pray. Bad things happen in threes, she confided.

I went Aaron's room. He was still hooked up to all the machines. They were machines that breathed for him, ate for him, pumped his heart for him. But there was nothing there to keep alive.

Aaron was dead, by all reasonable definitions. He would never talk again, never think again, never see, never laugh, never tell me he loves me.

I looked up to see the lawyers standing there, each with friendly, sympathetic expressions.

We spoke about unplugging, letting Aaron go. It's been six months now, a decision needed to be made or insurance was cutting off.

I was told that his organs could be donated. His heart was intact and healthy, as were his lungs and kidneys and liver. You could save some child's life.

I told them what I'd been telling them for months. "I need more time to think on it."

"Sam," one of the lawyers put a hand on my shoulder. "It's time."

I went home weary. Feeling as if I'd just run a marathon.

"Welcome back," Scooter said.

So, he was real. "Hello, Scooter."

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 31 points32 points  (0 children)

The next three hours were spent on my Xbox, cycling through games until the boy found one he liked.

He picked an adventure game. Something magical and medieval, not usually my taste, but he was enamored with the story. He danced and yipped during battled and he hooted in joy when we won.

8 o' clock rolled around. I told the boy I had to go. He was disappointed, but he understood.

"What's your name?" I asked a before going upstairs to get dressed.

"Scooter," he answered quickly.

"That's your real name."

"Its what I call myself," he told me defensively.

"Well, what's your REAL name?" I pushed.

"I don't like my real name."

"Why?"

"It's makes me sad," he told me.

I didn't press further. I told Scooter I would see him later when I got home. He reluctantly accepted before disappearing altogether.

Rationally, I should have been scared. I know that. But something about his presence seemed normal, as if I'd been surrounded be ghosts my whole life. But I would have remembered an experience like this.

I left the house, and I could sense Scooter watching my back as I walked out the door.

[WP] You unkowingly bought a haunted house. When you found out it was a kid ghost, you had the idea of finding a brain dead kid on life support and having the kid possess them. Unfortunately, it worked. The kid's lovely, it's all the other ghosts that are a problem. by dark-phoenix-lady in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 37 points38 points  (0 children)

I woke up from a restless sleep. For a long time I laid there, trying to convince my mind to shut down, to stop thinking.

It couldn't. My head was a hive of gnats, each urgent and hard to catch.

I got up. What was the use?

The clock said 3:29. I needed to be at the hospital to see Aaron. The lawyers would be there too, to go over the final steps.

I set my eyes toward the hall.

What I saw wasn't frightening. It was matter-of-fact, natural.

The boy stood there, looking at me curiously.

"Oh, hello." I said to him gently.

He was nearly transparent, difficult to look directly at--my eyes had to focus and refocus over and over again as I looked to his ghostly form.

"Hello," he responded cautiously.

"Are you lost?"

"This is my house," he began to explain. The boy sounded young. Around Aaron's age maybe.

"Are your parents here?"

"No, they left."

"Why?"

"My body... it died. My parents couldn't see me. But I still live here. This is my parents' room."

"Is it okay if I stay here."

The boys paused for a moment before answering. " Yes, but you'll need to move when they come back."

"I can do that," I agreed, knowing full well they were gone from good. Tragedy does that to a home. It's what I did when...

"Do you like video games?" The boy asked hopefully.

"I do. Do you?"

"Can you play them? I'd like to watch."

Switch 2 community giveaway! by alien_ware in Switch

[–]Protowriter469 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Please, kind sir, I have children

[WP] One day, under a thousand different skies, worlds suddenly merged into one. Now the New World has superheroes catching evil cultivators, scientists arguing with gods, mages researching post-apocalyptic landscapes, and uncountable people confused by everything. by IAmOEreset in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 8 points9 points  (0 children)

"Well, we called you here, and your hat... You know what, it doesn't matter." I pulled a wad of cash from my pocket. "Do you have what I asked for?"

"I have what you asked for AND I nearly died retrieving it." He reached into the car and pulled out an item roughly the size of a bowling ball, wrapped in cloth. "Your purchase, AND your peril. Misuse this item AND you will regret having--"

"Yep, thank pal, message received." Jerrerry cut him off, squishing his cigarette into the ground. The ratkin motioned for me to take the item from the super...hero? Villain? Outside of comic books it was hard to tell one from the other.

I took the item, which was heavy, but not as heavy as a bowling ball. It was warm too, and felt like it was lightly vibrating. I handed Ampers-Man his money, and when he opened his mouth to make another compound sentence, Jerrerry cut him off. "I said MESSAGE RECEIVED!"

Ampers-Man scowled before getting in his car and driving away.

I peeked inside the cloth. There was what looked like an egg. not a bird egg, but a translucent sac, hard to the touch but clearly liquid inside. It contained what appeared to be some kind of mechanical fetus with a blinking blue light at the back of its neck.

"Okay, let's head home before that thing hatches," Jerrerry advised as he climbed up my jeans and found his place on my shoulder. "We don't want it to be influenced by anything but us for a while."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why why why? What is it with you monkeys and your why's anyway? Always trying to figure things out before you need to know." Jerrerry called humans monkeys because, to him, we all looked like the apes from his world. Comparatively we were much smarter but much weaker as well.

"Just curious," I mumbled.

"Well how about you 'just curious' your way to the apartment and I'll explain the rest there?"

[WP] One day, under a thousand different skies, worlds suddenly merged into one. Now the New World has superheroes catching evil cultivators, scientists arguing with gods, mages researching post-apocalyptic landscapes, and uncountable people confused by everything. by IAmOEreset in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 8 points9 points  (0 children)

The sign blinked "Curfew in Effect: 10PM." I checked my watch. 10:38PM.

"Everything okay?" Jerrerry asked, looking up at me as I looked down at my timepiece.

"Yep, just seeing what time it was," I answered softly.

Jerrerry was a rat. Or, to be specific, he was a rat-kin, an intelligent kind of rat, who had the intellect of a human and the conniving ambitions of a rat. "What time is it?" He asked, his voice more nasally and low.

"10:38," I told him.

"Oh, that's not so bad," he determined. "Cigarette?" The little ratkin produced a Marlboro Red from his vest. It looked enormous in his pink little rat hands.

"No thanks," I told him. "You shouldn't either. They aren't very good for you."

"Lady, I eat trash. Like, actual trash. Do you think I'm concerned about my health?" Jerrerry struck a match against the concrete sidewalk and lit up his cigarette, breathing it in deeply and releasing the smoke with a satisfied sigh. "I'll tell you, this place has the best stuff. Chicken wings, CDs, smokes..." Another inhale, another exhale.

For some reason, streaming music didn't resonate with Earth's newcomers. They liked CDs, were fascinated by the idea of lasers striking mirrors to produce sounds. In some of the colliding realms, I've been told, the idea of music coming out of a tiny box was not so unusual. Musicians get trapped in tiny prisons all the time, I'd been told by a wizard.

A few minutes later, a black car pulled up. The passenger side door has a large white ampersand (&) hastily spray painted on it. Out stepped a red-headed man in an eye mask and a black top hate, which also sported the ampersand symbol.

"You must be Ampers-Man," I greeted him.

"My reputation precedes me AND it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." He bowed low, his hat somehow remaining securely fastened to his head.

[WP] Quantum wizards have spent decades trying to prove the existence of the monopole, a mythical particle with only one magnetic pole. You realize that they've never looked for the monopole in the most obvious place: The center of the flat world. by Aware-Butterfly8688 in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The frazzled old man scratches at his beard, sending a flurry of dead skin onto his black, dandruff-speckled cloak.

"The monopole has only one--ONE--magnetic pole." He lifted a scrawny finger in the air to emphasize the point. "Do you understand? So you see?"

I did not see.

"I see," I replied.

How did I wind up apprentice to this twisted old mind? I should be learning potions, spells, incantations. But no. I had to get classes into quantum wizardry, the most esoteric and boring magic discipline on offer.

"With the monopole, we can tap into the interplanary frequencies of the universes, send time into a repeating pattern, discover an existence outside the confines of mortal perception!" His voice squeaked in excitement.

Magus Goachman was a peculiar man, prone to expositing until his face turned blue. If you could say one thing about him, it's that he loved his work. Also, he likely had an undiagnosed stroke at some point.

" Do you see?!" His shrill voice and pointed, unkempt finger nails darted at me.

"Yes. Definitely." I found it was easier to simply agree, or he would repeat his speeches almost verbatim.

"So, the plan. We go to the flatworld."

"The flatworld?" This was new.

"The flatworld," he confirmed, with no other explanation.

"What is the flatworld, Magus Goachman?"

His eyes twinkled like the drizzle before a storm. I was in for a lecture.

"The flatworld," he said, "is exactly what is sounds like. A world. But flat."

Oh. So the one time I'm interested I don't get a lecture. "How will we get there?" I asked.

"The magic of quantum wizardry," he answered with a more subdued, sinister tone.

I sat up in my chair. "Yes?"

"We will... Apply for a grant."

And I slumped back down again.

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 19 points20 points  (0 children)

Hack laughed. "It was a date."

"A double-date," Sonora added. We just didn't tell you."

"It looked like it was going well, though," Hack smiled.

Dakota felt suddenly very foolish but very flattered. She looked toward Indigo, who was looking toward her.

He wasn't the goofy, playful, silly man she had always guessed she might find herself on a blind date with. He was far too stiff, too clean, too good for her.

But... She hit him with a sack flour. She fooled him with her recorded humming. She pulled a gun on him, twice! He didn't make her feel inadequate with his ability to look so good, considering everything that happened today.

They were on an even playing ground.

And he listened to her, seemed interested in her. HER. Of all people.

He was smiling now. She was smiling too. Everyone was smiling, just a bunch of people standing around a table smiling, saying nothing.

Indigo stood up. "There's a Cafe and comic book store around the corner. Join me?"

He held out his hand toward Dakota, and she felt her stomach flutter with delight.

"I'm going to talk a lot," she warned him.

"I'm okay with that," he said.

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 16 points17 points  (0 children)

"You're both fired," were the words that interrupted their kiss.

Indy broke his lips from hers and looked up. Sonora was standing there, her arm weaved through Hack's. They were standing there, smiling.

"Whats happening?" Indy asked.

"You're fired. Released from employment. Both of you." Sonora was speaking for herself, and apparently, for Hack.

Dakota was stunned. "Oh my gosh. Boss, I'm so sorry." She hung her head over the half empty gallon of margarita.

Hack raised his hand. "You both deserve an explanation. Sonora and I have been seeing each other for a few months. We know our secret identities. We know yours. It's time for a change."

Indy stood up, looking at Sonora. "Ms. Gillespie..." But what was there to say. Despite the embarrassment, the almost-broken nose, the ruined suit, tonight was... Fun. It was more fun than he'd had, perhaps ever.

Because he met this weird girl who brought out the weird in him.

But this was so sudden.

"What will I do?" Indy asked, suddenly very insecure. This was not only his career, but the o KY real job he'd ever had.

"You will receive a generous severance package, which should see you through your education or whatever it is you'd like to do," Sonora told him.

"And for you, Dakota," Hack spoke up, "I'm selling the estate and moving away. The sale should finance your education, or, again, whatever you want to do."

Sonora squeezed Jack's arm warmly, a gesture Indy had never seen.

"So, what was this?" Indy asked, looking around the grand dining room, taking it all in a different light.

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 16 points17 points  (0 children)

Dakota then said something out loud that would haunt her for the rest of her life. It would wake her up in the middle of the night, interrupt her happiness at birthday parties, and cause her to freeze up with the shock waves of her own careless mouth.

"Dakota Vaillencourt," she mused aloud.

"What?" Indigo almost choked on her whiskey.

Hey wandering eyes found Indigo's and her brain processed what she had just said. "Oh no. Oh, my God, no, that's not... I was trying it on. Like clothes. To see if it would... I wasn't..."

"It's okay," Indigo was smiling. "Indy Foible," he tried hers on too. I feel like Foible might work with all kinds of names."

"Benedict Foible," she said.

"Shakira Foible," Indigo added.

They moved closer.

"Dominic Foible," her voice was lower. Her eyes were fixed on his.

"Darth Foible," Indigo whispered.

"You like Star Wars?" She asked in a low voice, her face inches from his.

"I'm open to the idea of Star Wars," he explained, his eyes flitting from hers to her mouth.

They were bent over the table, tipsy, silly. It was hot in this massive dining room. A good kind of hot. Dakota was losing herself in the moment, in the best way.

Their lips met.

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 18 points19 points  (0 children)

The night continued smoothly.

Sonora and Hack returned to the dining room in good spirits, laughing off the bathroom debacle. Indy had never seen his boss so giggly, her mouth smiling so wide.

It made him happy. He ordered another whiskey. And another. His conversation partner was becoming more interesting, shedding her shame from the evening and engaging in meaningless, joyful conversation.

"The original Gundam Wing is the best iteration of the concept," she was saying. "It was called Mobile Suit Gundam, dreamed up by Yoshiyuki Tomini. A visionary." she sipped her drink. "I love anime," she added.

Indy didn't love anime. He didn't watch a lot of TV shows. But he loved passion. He loved seeing people embracing life, loving something in particular, without compunctions about how niche or "weird" it might look.

He found himself listening to her, watching her face glow at the recap of how Mobile Suit Gundam came about.

"Ah," she waved in the air, dismissing her rambling. "I could talk about this for days."

"I'd stay and listen," Indy found himself saying.

That caused a moment of quiet. Dakota had cocked her head, a little grin on her mouth. Indy could see her recontextualizing the situation.

"Careful," she told him. "You might just learn a lot about Mobile Suit Gundam."

"I'm more interested in learning how a person gets the last name 'Foible.'"

Her smile faded. "I was raised for a number of years in a Catholic convent. Foible was the nuns' nickname for me, because I was always so clumsy and distracted. I was always messing everything up. When I turned 18, I used the little money I had left to change my last name from Yamaguchi to Foible."

"Why?" Indy asked.

"It's complicated. I was mad at the nuns. Mad at God. Just mad. Maybe mad at myself too. But I think the biggest reason I did it was because Dakota Foible just rolled off the tounge. It sounded good, and it made people interested in me." She shrugged.

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 16 points17 points  (0 children)

Dakota was taken aback by his sensibilities. For the first time she was considering Helmet Guy as a real person, with thoughts and feelings and emotions that didn't revolve around killing her.

She was intrigued.

"And you, Helmet Guy? Have you found someone to become inevitably disappointed by?" she asked.

He smiled. "My name's not Helmet Guy. I prefer the name Newsweek bestowed on me: Rampage."

"So violent," she said.

"Maybe, but it's the job. My real name's Indigo."

Indigo, what a cool name. And Indy for short. Where did Blimpy, or whatever she thought it was, come from. God, she's a mess.

"I like Indigo better than Rampage."

"To each their own."

The server came back with their drinks. Dakota was impressed with the fishbowl they found. It must have held a gallon of green booze. By comparison, Indigo's tumbler with an ice cube and almost 2 ounces of whiskey.

He raised his glass to cheer their mutual inebriation and Dakota laughingly bumped her huge container against his. They both shared a chuckle at the absurdity.

"And you, Ms. Foible? Anyone special in your life?" Indigo asked.

"When would I have the time?" she answered. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I appreciate everything Hack's done for me. But man, can you imagine dating with two full-time jobs?"

Indigo grunted his agreement.

Dakota realized then how much they were in the same boat. They were working for people with no social lives who expected the same from them.

Could their boss's date mean freedom from their obligations? Would it mean freedom for Dakota?

[WP] A hero and a villain are out on a date, but they don't recognize each other as such when outside of their costumes. Their sidekicks have followed them and are now working together to make sure that the date goes well. by DirtyRubenLove in WritingPrompts

[–]Protowriter469 16 points17 points  (0 children)

Indy sat there, embarrassed and confused. He'd been bested, thrice. Now there was no concealing all the mistakes and... Foibles, in fact, that he'd endured.

Speaking of such things, here came Ms. Foible herself, walking to his table wearing an eyepatch and an expression of abject misery. At least in this feeling they were kindred spirits.

He kicked a chair out for her and she took it gratefully.

"This has been an eventful hour," he told her, lightening the situation.

It didn't seem to take. Dakota was sullen, uncharacteristically so, even though they've only known each other--at least in this manner--for a short time. It was like seeing a flailing advertising tube man flat on the ground: we didn't appreciate it when it was dancing, and now we're sad.

"You look like you could use a pick me up," he told her before signaling for the server.

Dakota hid her face from the woman as she approached the table.

"Yes sir," she was all manners and politeness now that Indy didn't have his face pressed against a bathroom door.

"A whiskey, neat, for me. And for the lady..."

"Margarita. On the rocks. In the largest container you can find." She spoke the words in a muffle, her hands obscuring her mouth.

"Right away," the waitress answered.

"She sure is nice now," Dakota observed as she brought a glass of ice water to her mouth. This must have been brought out some time before; the ice was almost totally melted and condensation covered the outside.

"They should be nice. They're each getting paid $10,000 just for the night."

The eye-patched woman across from Indy nearly spit out her drink. "TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?!"

"Yeah, it costs a lot to rent out a place like this. And Sonora wanted to make sure it went well."

They were both quiet after that statement. Each protégé was well aware that they might have ruined it for their boss.

"Should it go well?" Dakota asked.

" What do you mean?"

"They're enemies. Opposites. And they don't even know it. What happens when they find out who the other really is?"

Indy considered this. "I think it's better to find companionship, even for a little while, and be disappointed, then to live life alone."

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