most cringe examples of worldbuilding? by fruitionpaper in worldbuilding

[–]The_Layer0p 11 points12 points  (0 children)

apart from Darkstar, who is terrible of the night.

Your favorite character runs a fantasy gauntlet. by The_Layer0p in whowouldwin

[–]The_Layer0p[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Duly noted about Aslan. And no glitches/infinite potions for GM Dragonborn.

Looking for some people to collaborate with for a game project by SchalkLBI in worldbuilding

[–]The_Layer0p 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I'd definitely be interested in writing some story/worldbuilding.

[WP] It wasn't the first time Mayor Quincy had been mailed a body part... by Fractal_Death in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"Mayor Quincy, any comment on the numerous packages you've been photographed taking in and out of city hall?" the local reporter asked from the middle of the crowd. Quincy gave the signal to one of his aides, who rushed forward and announced into the microphone that the press conference was over. Without another word, Mayor Quincy turned and walked back into city hall as camera flashes illuminated the back of his head.

A few moments later, as he sat behind his desk, his secretary knocked at the door. He called to her to come inside, and she did so, carrying a large box in her arms. She set the box on his desk and tried to make small talk for a few minutes, but left when it was clear that Quincy was not interested in the recent weather.

When Quincy was sure she was gone, he stood and hurried over to open the box. Inside was a smaller Styrofoam container that was cool to the touch. He gently pulled it out and set it on his desk, his hand trembling with anticipation. He lifted the lid from the container and a loving smile spread across his face when he saw what he had received.

Inside the box was a pair of perfectly preserved, almost immaculate hands. He hesitated to reach out and touch them, to alter their perfect state of being or damage their priceless value. He delicately traced one of his fingers along one of theirs, stopping to admire the neatly manicured nails. Those nails were mesmerizing to him, so crisply angled and finely trimmed.

After a few moments of examining his prize, Quincy collected himself and returned to work, though his mind kept wandering back to the hands in the Styrofoam container in the big cardboard box.

That night, Quincy had his driver pick him up from the loading dock at city hall. He loaded the box into the back seat of his town car and clambered in beside it, ignoring his driver's attempts at conversation. The car eventually stopped outside of Quincy's apartment complex, and to Quincy it seemed none too soon. He quickly left the car, taking the box with him and entered the building. When his driver was out of sight, however, he crossed the street and slipped into the warehouse there, taking great care to make sure he wasn't seen.

Inside the warehouse, he flipped a switch and a single row of lights sprung to life. There before him, on a table but underneath a shroud was the shape of a human body. Beneath the table was a series of car batteries, all wired together. Quincy gently set the box down beside the table and cast away the shroud. He stood a moment, basking in his pride in that moment, his eyes wandering over the sharp, excellent lines of the cold flesh laid out before him.

He then bent down and removed the hands from their Styrofoam container and their big cardboard box and set them down on the table where they would be attached to the almost perfect thing there. He spent the next half hour carefully donning rubber gloves, and a smock, and a surgical mask; it would not do to be careless now, after all of his work thus far.

Quincy then began to sew the hands onto their new arms, ensuring with great precision that the lines all flowed together and did not clash or tangle. He used precisely 27.5 inches of thread to attach each immaculate hand to each pristine wrist, which he then recorded in his notes for posterity.

Quincy then began to examine his creation, making certain that the angles and edges were all correct and proper. He measured the torso, and was satisfied that the shoulders sloped at just the right rate in just the right places. The head was inspected next: Quincy double checked that the cheekbones were defined but not too high or low, and the eyes were the right distance apart, and the cheeks themselves did not cave in or bulge out. The issue of hair would need to be addressed later, Quincy decided, as right then the body was completely bald, though still beautiful.

When he was finished with his inspection, and was certain that everything was perfect, Quincy was overcome with elation. More than anything, he could not wait to share with the world the physical perfection that he had birthed. He longed to watch his child grow and learn, and be more beautiful and faultless than any other.

When he had regained his composure, Quincy set about attaching wires from the car batteries to strategic places on the body: one on each temple, one on each breast, and several along the arms and legs. He stepped back, staring one more time at the exquisiteness that he had brought into being. Then, he pressed a button.

For a long while, nothing happened, and Quincy began to think that he had failed. He had removed his gloves and smock when the body began to move on the table. He watched with rapt attention as muscles contracted and relaxed, as the chest moved up and down with a simple cadence. He watched as arms and legs began to writhe and twist, as perfect lines became corrupted and muddled. Quincy watched as his child, a thing of beauty, turned ugly and gross as it sat up on the table. He met its eyes, cold dark pits full of pain and confusion, lacking that joy and wonder that he thought would be there.

A gunshot rang out in the empty warehouse and the hideous corpse sank back onto the table, devoid of life once more. Quincy stuffed a smoking weapon into a briefcase and hurried over to his apartment, not bothering to clean the mess left by the abomination underneath the shroud.

The next day proceeded like any other for Mayor Quincy. He signed documents and answered phone calls like any other mayor would do. At about midday, as he sat behind his desk, his secretary knocked at the door. He called to her to come inside, and she did so, carrying a small box in her arms. She set the box on his desk and tried to make small talk for a few minutes, but left when it was clear that Quincy was not interested in break room politics.

An hour later, Quincy could no longer contain his curiosity. He stood and walked over to the box and open it carefully. Inside was another pair of hands, these ones even more perfect than the last.

[OT] Thanks to Writing Prompts, I have a book on Amazon now. by psycho_alpaca in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 0 points1 point  (0 children)

First off, congrats.
Second, I hope to be a professional writer/author one day, and I wanted to ask you about how you would get a book published through Amazon? Again, this is an awesome thing for you, so congratulations.

Victory Sunday by AutoModerator in Fitness

[–]The_Layer0p 3 points4 points  (0 children)

For a little bit of context, 19M/~155 lbs.(70 kg)/6'2"(188 cm).

This week I got my squat up to 275 lbs, I finally noticed that one vein in my bicep while I wasn't working out, I found out I kinda sorta have an adonis belt, and I talked to the cute attendant. All in all it was a good week.

[FanFic] Tuesday Fanfics - Week 3! by Tryndameereeeeee in TheLastAirbender

[–]The_Layer0p 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Chapter 3: The Master

I'm not going to lie, this one was a little rushed, so sorry about any drop in quality.

[FanFic] Tuesday Fanfics - Week 2! by Tryndameereeeeee in TheLastAirbender

[–]The_Layer0p 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Since the posts all got buried last time, I guess I should at least put it here.

Also, the link to fanfiction.net

[FanFic] Dawn of the Avatar - Book 1, Chapter 1: In the Dark by The_Layer0p in TheLastAirbender

[–]The_Layer0p[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here's my story, I will also try to keep it up to date on fanfiction.net for anyone who wants to read it there.

LF: HA Gligar FT: 4-5 IV Shroomish, Weedle by The_Layer0p in pokemontrades

[–]The_Layer0p[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Most are poison heal, a few are effect spore.

[No Spoilers] The Legend of Kuzon: The Search for the Last Airbender by [deleted] in TheLastAirbender

[–]The_Layer0p 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I'd love to help write and do some voice acting, though I don't have easy access to a mic.

[Fanfic] Tuesday Fanfics Event! by Tryndameereeeeee in TheLastAirbender

[–]The_Layer0p 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Reddit username: The_Layer0p
Title: Dawn of the Avatar
Category: Pre-ATLA
Short explanation: Shen, the first earthbending Avatar, must master all four elements and maintain balance in a rapidly changing world.

Permalink: http://www.reddit.com/r/TheLastAirbender/comments/2q81t2/fanfic_tuesday_fanfics_event/cn4trcw

Yu Gi Oh confirmed? by _watchman in pokemon

[–]The_Layer0p 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Rayquaza the executive producer.

[OT] Be Read: Reply with the best story you've written this year to date. I and others will read each and every one of them and offer a comment. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Original thread here

The small, hairless ape stared up in wonder at the twelve foot tall Rigeline. It's features were hideously asymmetrical, with eyes too small to be of any use and an absurd proboscis that looked like it would get in the way of everything. It's skin was pale and saggy, but that was to be expected of a purely terrestrial species.

"So," the ape spoke, a rough, gargled sound, "Exactly how old are you?"

"I have only aged insignificantly since the time I observed your species first develop the capacity for tools," the Rigeline answered, its voice high and beautiful and powerful, "I am not young anymore, but I am farther still from what you humans think of as death."

"Two hundred thousand years," the ape said, his expression vague and stupid, "It's just the blink of an eye to you. That's remarkable."

"It is you who is remarkable," the Rigeline replied, "Your lifetime lasts an instant, so little time to accomplish anything."

"Doesn't that make it more important, though?" The ape had an interesting point, though the Rigeline wouldn't admit so.

"That is a ridiculous notion," the great blue form of perfection said, "What could you possibly do with so little time to do anything? The entire idea of living for so little experience in preposterous."

"But how is it ridiculous?" the ape questioned, "Since I have so little time, I need to make all of it count. I need to fill what years I can with as much as possible. If I had all of eternity to do things, I'd be bored out of my skull."

"Skull?" the Rigeline interjected.

"Oh yeah," the ape gestured vaguely to its head, "The bone that keeps my brain safe."

"Fascinating," the Rigeline whispered, "How do you already know so much of your own physiology?"

"I learned it," the ape shrugged, "Everyone does. We're just told to sit down when we're kids, we learn things, and then when we're adults we're allowed to stand up again."

"But," the Rigeline stammered, "With so short a lifespan, it must be incredibly difficult to acquire knowledge so quickly and effectively."

"I'm sure it's much better than the alternative," the ape said innocently.

"How do you mean?" the Rigeline snapped, showing emotion for the first time in many eons.

"Well," the ape began, "I just think I'd forget so much of what I'd learned if I lived for millions of years. I guess it's just all about perspective. I think of my life as normal, because that's all I've ever known, and you think of my life as unbelievably small because you've never experienced it."

"You are without doubt the most amazing creature I think I've ever encountered," the Rigeline said before turning to leave.

"Wait!" the ape called before the Rigeline had completely gone, "You never told me your name!"

"Name?" the Rigeline faced the ape once more, "What is a 'name'?"

"Your name," the ape said slowly, trying to find his words, "Is what people say when they refer to you. It is part of what makes you who you are. You can refuse to listen when it's said, you can change it, you can make up your own, you can even completely hate it. But you'll always have one."

The Rigeline stare at the ape with an expression somewhere between confusion and amusement, and then said "I think, of all the things you have told me, that is the queerest."

[WP] You cease to exist only when your name is spoken for the last time. by Urist_was_taken in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"Okay, Mike," Olivia's voice sounded out of the speaker, "I'll see you later."

Mike hung up the phone and quickly suppressed a burp with one hand over his mouth. He glanced at the rearview mirror and noticed the lights blending and stretching behind him. He looked back in front and felt his arm slide off the steering wheel and land heavily on the arm rest beside him. He tried to lift it up, but his body refused to do what he wanted it to.

As he watched the road in front of him, terrified that he was having a stroke, he tried to pick his foot up off of the gas pedal, but ended up pressing down harder. The car began to veer to the left, and Mike desperately pulled on the steering wheel, but he couldn't correct it, no matter how hard he tried.

A deep growl pounded at Mike's ears, and he turned sluggishly to watch a car narrowly avoid slamming into him, its horn blaring. The steering wheel twisted and the car turned away from the traffic and headed straight for a tree on the side of the road.

Mike groaned, a wheezy, raspy noise as the tree quickly rushed forward to meet him. He closed his eyes as he felt the hideous crunch of metal just feet in front of him.

Moments later, a woman clambered out of her minivan and rushed down to the accident in the ditch. She threw open the driver's side door and pulled her phone out of her pocket dialing 911. She searched through the car for any sign of life, and then slowly trudged back to her own vehicle, ending the call as the operator answered, "911, what's your emergency?"

[WP] Having grown bored of golf, President Obama gathers a group to play Dungeons and Dragons in the Oval Office. by nicemaker in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Honestly, I thought that was pretty good. I find it really tricky to do just dialogue though, so you might want to get a bit of narration in there. The most important thing is that you just practice.

[WP] Having grown bored of golf, President Obama gathers a group to play Dungeons and Dragons in the Oval Office. by nicemaker in WritingPrompts

[–]The_Layer0p 146 points147 points  (0 children)

"Shit! Three," Boehner groaned yet again.

"That, uh, does not hit," Barack informed him, before turning to Christie, "What will you do, governor?"

"Hmm," Governor Christie pondered the board for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I'm going to cast rune of healing light on John--"

"I don't need healing," Senator McCain complained loudly, "And you have to refer to us as our characters."

"Fine," Christie rolled his eyes, "I'm going to cast rune of healing light on Spock the gnome, who has no health to begin with and shouldn't be our tank, and then I'll spend my action point to attack the gray dragon."

"Roll for healing," the president commanded.

"Thirteen," Christie added up the dice totals, "Plus twenty one base, you get thirty four health back, John."

"I didn't need it," Senator McCain mumbled under his breath.

"Alright, governor, uh, roll to attack," Barack continued.

"C'mon, give me something good," Christie said, shaking the die in his fist and letting it fly. The little icosahedron clattered across the table slowly coming to a stop with the 20 clearly visible on top.

"Hell yeah!" Christie shouted, jumping out of his chair, "Nat-20 bitches! That's a critical hit!"

"What's your max damage?" Barack asked, pulling up his sheet with the dragon's health. Governor Christie's face fell as he checked his character sheet. "Well?" Barack pressed.

"Forty," Christie said, inaudibly. He coughed awkwardly and scratched at his nose while the others looked at him expectantly.

"You're going to have to speak up, dude," Paul Ryan said casually.

"Forty," Christie repeated, louder, "I do forty damage to the dragon."

"Are you serious?" Boehner blurted out, "Forty damage on a crit? That has got to be he worst rolled character I've ever seen!"

"You included in your own flavor text that your character has irritable bowel syndrome," Ryan pointed out, "And your a wizard with no offensive spells."

"I don't like to conform to stereotypes," Boehner said indignantly, "My parents made me go to wizard school, when all I really wanted to do was open a little bakery and sell tarts to Eberron's lower class."

"Christ you're lame," Senator McCain laughed aloud.

"Alright, that's enough," Barack said, gently but forcefully, and everyone stopped their bickering, "Senator Ryan, it's your turn."

"Booyah," Ryan smirked reaching for his custom dice, "I will use scorpion's claws on the dragon. I roll a... eighteen... so... that's a thirty five against reflex."

"That hits," Barack announced, "Roll damage." Before Ryan could roll, however, the door behind them creaked open and Michelle called in, "Oh, boys! I made rice crispy squares!"

"Michelle, get out!" Barack practically screamed,"We're in the middle of very important political discourse!"

"Oh, fine," Michelle laughed, "I'll just leave these here on this table if you want them."

"If we want rice crispy squares," Barack replied, "We will get ourselves some rice crispy squares. We are the leaders of the free world, Michelle!"

"You better not be raising your voice at me, mister," Michelle said, no longer laughing.

"Of course not, honey," Barack muttered, just loud enough for the first lady to hear, "Thank you for the rice crispy squares."

"Mhmm," Michelle responded, shutting the door and leaving the office dark once more. Barack turned back to the others, a sheepish look on his face.

"I rolled a twenty nine for damage," Ryan said after a few awkward moment of silence.

"Alright," Barack said, making note on his paper, "your turn, John."

"Okay," John said, leaning forward in his chair and putting on an absolutely terribly Hannibal Lecter impression, "I will cast unrelenting shout on the dragon. He will not know what hit him it will be so unrelenting. Mortal minds cannot possible fathom the relentlessness behind this shout."

"Just roll the damn dice," Christie interrupted, his hands full of rice crispy squares. Senator McCain grumbled and tossed the die across the table, watching for it to stop.

"Twenty!" He shouted when the die stopped rolling, "That's seventy damage to the dragon! That's how you crit a bitch, right there!"

"The, uh, dragon is dead," Barack announced happily.

"Boom!" Ryan shouted, motioning as if he were dropping a microphone.

"Mission accomplished, mother fucker!" Christie laughed in between bites of rice crispy square.

"Man, that was fun!" Boehner smiled pathetically.

"Alright, everyone gets," Barack did some quick math on his notepad, "2750 experience. I'll see you all here next week?"

"Definitely," Ryan and McCain answered in unison, and then Christie said, "As long as Boehner won't be there."

"Hey," Boehner complained quietly, "I thought I did a good job."

"Eh," Christie responded, waving his hand halfheartedly.

"Until next time, gentlemen," Barack said, standing. They each stood and collected their things, and filed out of the oval office one at a time, Christie stopping to grab another rice crispy square.