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Apr 16, 2019 13:14
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| # ¿ Apr 19, 2024 06:04 |
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im confused as gently caress so assign me one please also 
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Apr 24, 2019 01:45
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The Lonely Girl 312 words Once upon a time there was a little girl in a huge castle. The castle had a lavish garden which provided all the food for the little girl to eat. The little girl tended to the garden every day, and she took pleasure in the work because the plants were the only other life she knew. She would sing for the fruits and the vegetables, sing louder for the ones that grew underground, and then pick them when they were ripe. But as she grew older, the little girl grew lonely among the sprawling halls and wide ballrooms that could never be put to use. Her plants could never come inside and play with her. She began to cry often. She would wander the castle shedding tears on every stone she crossed. She continued tending the garden, but sang less brightly and watered the plants liberally with her tears. One day, the little girl discovered a bizarre new plant in her garden. As if it had emerged from the soil overnight, a hand just like hers except the skin was brown and the nails leafy-green, motionless. The little girl pulled and pulled on the hand but it wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t try digging the hand out because it was too close to other important plants, so all she could do was try singing to it. As soon as the girl’s little voice rang out, the hand started to twitch in the soil. And after about five minutes, there was an entire arm reaching up from the ground. The girl kept singing for hours until a shoulder, head, and eventually torso were all visible. The girl stopped singing because she was out of breath and her throat was parched, so she bent down to look at the plant person. It looked up at her from its slouched position and said, “I love you.”
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Apr 29, 2019 07:49
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in with Season your life with Sunchang
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Apr 30, 2019 18:50
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Exmond posted:
in addition to blowout's caveat, if you accept then you have to brawl me too Mr. Steak fucked around with this message at 07:08 on May 2, 2019 |
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May 2, 2019 07:06
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steeltoedsneakers posted:Ex-Anomalous Steak brawl toxx~
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May 2, 2019 09:52
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May 2, 2019 20:54
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Prompt: Season your life with Sunchang "Sunny" 1341 words NATION MOURNS LOSS OF COMEDY SENSATION FOLLOWING a long struggle with cancer, Sunny Perez was found dead Wednesday morning while on tour for his new act, Curse Of Laugh. The actor and comedian was perhaps best known for his role on long-running family sitcom Double Decker, which he both created and starred in. Among his many accolades were Best Lead Actor, Excellence in Screenwriting, and Handsomest Man Under Five Foot Six, a title he coined himself. Funeral arrangements will likely be made during the next few weeks by Perez’s only living relative James Chandler. We were unable to reach Mr. Chandler for comment. *** “This is a joke, right? Tell me this is one of his dumb pranks and there’s another one somewhere that actually makes sense.” The lawyer once again ran his eyes over the document. “I’m afraid he was quite unambiguous with regard to intent. As the named executor it is your responsibility to follow these instructions to the letter.” James scrutinized the relevant portion of his copy, trying desperately to find any semantic interpretation of the text that might make it less stupid. There were none. My wealth will be distributed according to the following terms: Six million (6,000,000) dollars will be used for the hiring and subsequent payment of researchers in accordance with the stipulations below, for the time of one year. Up to five million (5,000,000) dollars will be used each additional year for payment of researchers. Fifteen million (15,000,000) dollars will be supplied yearly for the purpose of funding research in accordance with the stipulations below. This will continue until the stipulations have been met, at which time the remainder of my estate will go to my brother James. All research referred to in this document will be for the sole purpose of achieving the following goal: I want my legacy to last forever. Therefore, I would like to live on as an Artificial Intelligence clone of my personality. To this end, I have paid a company to cryogenically freeze my brain in the event of my death, which researchers may use freely in their due course. Until such a time wherein I exist again as a sentient mind with a fully autonomous body, the aforementioned research will continue to be funded by the executing of this document. *** After five years, they could extract memories from the deceased. Two more years and they were emulating feelings and experiences in a digital replica of a human brain. It was nine years before James was given a prototype that spoke convincingly like his brother. “When I talked with a version of you last year, I asked about why you wanted this. Do you remember?” “I remember wanting immortality. I don’t remember you asking me that.” “Right. Well, what’s your answer this time?” “I knew this would be weird.” “What?” “Ha.” The word was spoken more than laughed. “You look so old.” “I... Did you hear me?” “Yes I heard you, James. I was afraid of death. What else is there to explain?” “Alright. And what about now?” “Now?” “How do you feel about death now?” “It feels like... an identity I once had. I no longer think about it as something relevant to me.” “What are you afraid of, then?” “I don’t imagine anything.” “Mm.” Later that evening, James drafted an email to his head AI programmer. Stefan, You’ve made remarkable progress these past months, but I’m going to be blunt with you. I need this project to be finished within the year if you’re going to receive the pension I promised. The program is amazingly adept at holding a conversation, but it’s still just an emotionless box full of my brother’s memories. Nobody will believe in a humorless Sunny Perez. You need to find a way to make him shine, fast. James Chandler *** Hey you! Do you ever find yourself wishing someone would cheer you up? Are you looking for a bit of good cheer in your depressing day to day life? Well, look no more! You’ll never be lonely again when you get SunnyVision. We all have a little voice nagging at the back of our mind. You know the one. That little voice that’s constantly reminding us we’re bad. That everything we do is wrong. That we don’t deserve to be happy. What if I told you we can replace that voice with a better one? No, I’m not talking about some wishy washy self help routine. SunnyVision is completely scientific and one hundred percent reliable. It’s as easy as taking a pill, cheaper than buying a new phone, and lasts forever! Order a pack for your whole family now! Don’t let your little voice convince you otherwise! “Season your life with SunnyVision.”™ *** Stefan Hershkowitz conducted a press interview. “Yes, it was rocky at first. Back when I volunteered to be the first alpha tester for the SunnyVision line of perception-enhancing drugs, it involved a series of complex neurosurgical procedures. We weren’t even thinking about entering the realm of consumer products, but after joining with the soul of everyone’s favorite personality Sunny Perez, I stopped doubting. I knew we had to get this into every market we could, into as many homes, as many people as possible. “I spent nearly ten years designing the AI system used in SunnyVision, but in all that time we were never able to fuse that technology with the essential humanhood of each and every one of us. That is, until we decided to stop wasting time on the code, which had reached a plateau, and start looking for ways to implement. We quickly found that when interfaced with a living person’s frontal cortex, our system was able to transcend the current limits of artificial intelligence in a way never seen before. Essentially, we were emulating Sunny’s superego using the brain as a processor. This is similar to the neurological processes present in patients with dissociative identity disorder, but in the case of SunnyVision the function is not to repress trauma, but rather to elevate your present life to a higher state of existence.” *** By the same date the next year, 80% of households nationwide were fully integrated with SunnyVision. Rates of mental illness were down by 60%, suicide by 75%, and crime by 90%. James sat at his grand piano with an empty bottle of Chianti in his left hand, and said “TV on.” At the opposite wall, a large flat-screen television slid smoothly up out of its stand as the lights automatically dimmed and the window blinds closed. Then the screen blinked on. James had purchased this private island many months earlier with a small portion of his inheritance money. His brother may or may not have indirectly kicked off an apocalyptic series of events culminating in mass brainwashing, but James didn’t see himself as culpable at all. He had resented Sunny even before he’d become the face of an AI hivemind, even before he’d died, really. But now that his resentment for his brother could be merged with his resentment for the world at large, he felt overwhelming apathy. He had avoided the riots where huge crowds had made their way through entire cities forcing pills down the throat of anybody not yet assimilated. He had seen massacres and terrorist attacks in the news reported as massive victories for the human race. In rare cases he had even stood on the beach and watched plumes of fire rise from somewhere on the distant shore, with about as much emotion as he would watch the sun set. Airing right now was a show called Guilty, where captured resistance members were forced to participate in bizarre torture games for the entertainment of viewers. James watched the screen blankly, experiencing neither enjoyment nor disgust. Interesting how nothing mattered anymore. James downed a glass of brandy that had been left on the top of the piano since last night, then passed out onto the keys.
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May 6, 2019 08:39
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The System Knows I'm Grateful by Saucy Rodent CRIT -I feel like the term “starting point” could have been replaced with something more evocative or something that places me into the world more. As the first unexpected phrase I come across, it’s much weaker than “StaffSync” for example. Besides that, I love the idea of renting out your literal body for labor. Great start. -At first I was like, it’s hard to believe that the Algorithm could be a more effective actor (let alone porn actor!) than a human, but then I realized CG facial acting is already so good in present day that its not infeasible for them to like... program a scene into a human’s face too. Weird setup. I like it. -drat, okay I feel like this is a solid first half of a story that ends too abruptly. I was really interested in the resolution of the arm cut plot, but it was left a bit disappointingly up to my imagination. I was also hoping for more to come out of the interaction with Jang-mi. This sounds weird to say, but if he made a different choice in the elevator, a weird sex scene could have been super interesting. To be honest, I was really invested in your world even though, like... it’s not that crazy original or anything. But hey, boilerplate cyberpunk poo poo can be great, and I was in for the ride. My biggest complaint is that the ride was really short and didn’t feel complete. I can’t ignore the fact that you had so much time left and so many more words available to use, and I wish you’d taken advantage of both of those.
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May 7, 2019 18:08
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alazia
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May 7, 2019 18:39
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in!
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May 14, 2019 15:52
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oh yeah, in, obviously
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May 25, 2019 00:29
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The Man Who Had Everything (1000 words) Before, Tom knew he loved money, but today he suddenly wasn't sure. He woke up in his room full of gold chairs and gold tables, and walked over to the window, which was dressed in gold on all sides. On a normal day, the gold would have been a pleasing sight, a sign of how much he owned (and owning a lot of things made Tom very happy), but this morning the bright light only made his head hurt. For a moment, he wished his room was covered in dirt like those people down in the distance, but he quickly snapped himself out of it. Those people were poor, and he was not. But he continued to look down at the people with something approaching longing. They were so far down that they looked as small as pieces of sand, their houses like little stones in a huge field. Tom watched the tiny people move between their little buildings on roads made of dirt. His eyes followed each one like he might watch a shooting star travel across the sky. Tom went over to his kitchen, picked up a gold glass and some gold plates from the top of his gold-lined counter, and began preparing an early lunch of fresh greens topped with fish eggs, then poured himself a side of his finest red wine. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about all those tiny people out there, living their tiny little lives. He wanted to know what it was like down below, in that world of dirt. Not because he wanted to be poor, but because he longed for something different. He needed to know what he was missing. Because for Tom, having everything was the only thing that meant anything at all. Such feelings often hit Tom later in the afternoon, when the sun began to drop behind his home and the building's long shadow stretched out over the world like a thick sheet. On those days, Tom could shrug the feeling off easily and go about his life, but today the feeling simply would not leave Tom alone. It screamed inside his heart, tearing through his insides with a want so deep and so loud that he bent over in pain. Tom made a choice then, though it was really no choice at all. He would go and see the outside world up close. The ride down took thirty minutes, during which Tom felt more and more worried about his choice. When the metal doors finally slid open, Tom was met with a pleasing wind that carried a sweet smell. This calmed Tom down enough for him to step out into the sun. He faced the sky with eyes closed and took a deep breath. His worries from earlier were all but forgotten. However, then he opened his eyes and saw the people staring at him. He was wearing clothes of a rich blue color, with gold running down the sides. The people were dressed in brown pants, with nothing to cover the rest of their bodies. Some held children at their breast, others using their hands to help the old ones stand. The attention made Tom feel very strange, and he didn't like it. The people were staring not at Tom's face, but down at his shirt and bright gold shoes. Somehow, without thought or words, Tom reached down and removed the shoes one foot at a time. Then he pulled off the rest of his outer-wear until only a thin white covering remained, cut just below the knees. After that, the people left in all directions and Tom followed a group of men who appeared to be his own age. Their bodies looked strong, and they each held a large stick with a sharp point at both ends. They walked into a small town where Tom stopped to look around. The men walked off without him. The homes were simple, but seemed well-built. Tom looked into one of the buildings and saw rows of people laying in beds with yellowed faces and thin bodies. The few who were not asleep had wide, blood-shot eyes and expressions of pain on their faces. Tom wondered out loud what was wrong with them, and a passing woman answered that they were sick. Tom slowly put a hand to his chest, nodded, and moved along to the next building. Inside, he saw a room where rows of people sat on their knees and cried. Inside the third building Tom saw thin people holding their stomachs with one arm while with they other they fed those who no longer even had the power to feed themselves. Tom did not like to see all these things because they made a ball of dirt grow inside his chest that made it hard to breathe or think straight. The ball stuck to his heart and wouldn't let go no matter what he did. This pain was so much worse than the pain he'd felt earlier in the day, up in his room. He had felt so empty he could die, but now he was so full that he couldn't bear to live. His whole life Tom had wanted to have everything and then more. These people had what Tom would have considered to be less than nothing. They had nothing and then more. But their lives, he had felt the moment he'd set eyes on the town, were so much deeper, had so much more meaning than anything Tom had ever known. There was no way he could ever return. That was the truth that hurt the most. He would never again be wrapped in that rich blue, never again dream under his soft gold sheets. He very much wanted to stay, but it was still the hardest choice he would ever make. As the sun began to set behind the silver mountain he called home, and its shadow rushed across the ground to meet him, Tom laughed quietly to himself and turned away.
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May 27, 2019 04:48
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Pit (369 words) “Steady on the left!” “How’s it looking down there, Sergeant?” Wires as thick as a man’s fist creaked with aching complaint as a tremendous weight shifted below. As taught as strings on an impossibly giant guitar, their notes resounded at a deep inaudible tremor. The sergeant was secured at the bottom of the wire by several carabiners and rotated slowly at a slow, constant rate. He held a military-grade flashlight which illuminated the walls fifty meters away, and was strapped to his wrist with velcro. Too geometric to be natural, too massive to be man-made. It was discovered by a couple hiking in an obscure region of the Swiss alps. On initial investigation by the Swiss government, etchings in an unknown writing system were identified twenty meters below the surface. Suspecting they had found evidence of an ancient civilization more advanced than previously known, a number of archaeologists had been contacted, including an esteemed American researcher. That is how the American government became alerted to the phenomenon. The wires groaned again as the sergeant was lowered further into the pit, along with several dozen heavy duty observation devices dangling just above him. “Sergeant? Come in, sergeant!” “I said all clear, Private! Are comms malfunctioning?” “Not as far as we can tell, Sergeant.” The radio chittered for a spell, but all signs indicated a perfect connection. The sergeant was lowered to a hundred meters below the surface, scanning his flashlight methodically across the stone walls as he descended. Suddenly, he twitched and nearly dropped the light. Once he focused the beam again, he squinted to try understanding what he was seeing. The texture of the wall had changed from stone to something white and bizarrely shiny. Was it a smooth vein of quartz perhaps? The sergeant was lowered deeper and the white area widened more and more until it was taking up and entire section of wall. He didn’t realize the true nature of the area until it was already too late. Approximately fifty feet below where he had first found the change of material was the first time he noticed any movement. And then, like a solar eclipse, a massive black circle darkened the sergeant’s entire field of vision.
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May 27, 2019 08:01
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thats for my brawl by the way
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May 27, 2019 08:01
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in
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May 28, 2019 20:32
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ROBOT DREAMS 830 words “You like Mecha-Dragus? Oh please, he’s so lame-sauce!” Derek proclaimed, proudly holding aloft a this plastic card of his own. “I challenge you with Destructo-Bot!” he said as he threw the card onto the table. “He has 500 attack power! Beat that!” Penelope was startled for a second and almost dropped her hand, but she recovered quickly when she remembered the auxiliary weapon card she had been saving. She activated it from her hand onto Mecha-Dragus, boosting its attack power by 300. Derek was aghast. He stared at the table motionlessly for several seconds, and then suddenly burst into motion, flipping the table and storming out of the classroom. “Geez, touchy” Penelope said, collecting her cards, then gathering the cards that Derek abandoned. “One second guys,” she said to her friends before following after him. “Derek, wait up!” she said once she found him a ways down the hallway. “Don’t talk to me!” Derek said, but stopped walking and didn’t try to escape the confrontation. “Hey...” Penelope said, handing Derek his deck. “Why do you love Destructo-bot so much? Don’t you know he’s a bad guy?” When Derek didn’t respond, she continued. “He kills like, a hundred people every day. On purpose!” At that, Derek snapped “Destructo-Bot isn’t bad!” Penelope flinched a little at the sudden aggressiveness in Derek’s voice. His tone softened before he continued. “You wouldn’t understand.” “Well,” Penelope said, glancing around. “I’m the only one here talking to you. So you better just say it anyway.” “Destructo-Bot fights for the good of all people. Everyone just thinks he’s mean because of his scary design and how he never talks. He never kills people on purpose! Never!” “But I saw on the news...” “gently caress the news!” Derek exclaimed, at which Penelope’s eyes opened wide and she vicariously put a hand over her mouth, looking to see if any teachers had heard the naughty word. Derek quieted down again. “I’ve seen the videos too, obviously. But DB... he’s always just reacting to a threat. He’s only a bad guy because the good guys keep fighting him!” Penelope had no response. She couldn’t compete with a Destructo-Bot superfan when it came to rote knowledge of his battles. She could, however, think of something to say that would calm Derek down. “So hey, what does Destructo-Bot fight for then, like specifically?” Derek looked up as if expecting to see bemusement in here eyes, but there was only genuine interest. He looked back down. “Kids like me...” “Huh?” “You probably heard about it on the news. They love to use footage of it to make him look bad.” “Oh, you’re talking about the... abductions, aren’t you?” Derek shook his head. “Well, yes. But he’s not taking them! Those kids... they had nowhere else to go. Destructo-Bot took them in!” “But how do you know that...?” “Because my brother-” and then Derek got cut off by what sounded like a crack of thunder right over their heads, followed by a severe tremor in the ground. “Aw crap!” he said and ran directly to the nearest window. Lights were flashing randomly outside. Penelope couldn’t make out a thing. “Holy poo poo holy poo poo holy poo poo! That was totally Destructo-Bot’s laser cannon! His has a unique color!” “Wait a second,” Penelope said. “What did you mean-” but then yet another explosion, this time close enough to shatter the window by Derek, interrupted her. “Derek!” she yelled as she ran up to his prone body. She leaned over and saw that he hadn’t been hurt badly. Just a handful of light cuts that were bleeding onto the floor and pooling in an uncomforting way. Derek stumbled to his feet, then climbed out of the broken window with no hesitation at all. “Derek, what the f-” Penelope paused for a moment, unsure about the word she was going to say. She decided that now was an appropriate time to use the word, but by that point Derek had run out of sight towards the left. “Hey!” Penelope waffled about touching the broken glass for several seconds, then booked it to the nearest school emergency exit. The door opened onto a ruined track field, covered in soot and flaming debris. And shadow. Derek was in the dead center, looking straight up. “Timmy!” he was shouting. “Timmy, you came for me!” Penelope made to step outside, but as soon as she did, she heard a creaking that forced her to cover her ears. Looking up, she saw a gigantic metal hand descending towards the grass in front of where Derek was standing. It touched down and in the time it took for Penelope to stumble and catch herself on the wall, Derek was already enthusiastically scrambling up the digits to reach the palm. Derek looked back at Penelope for the first time since running, and as the hand began to lift him towards the sky, he looked more content than Penelope had ever seen him. “Bye, I guess,” she said.
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Jun 3, 2019 04:59
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in and give me the worst flash uve got
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Jun 4, 2019 20:47
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i missed a bunch of weeks but hi im here still. i *could* wait for the next prompt and sign up properly but im impatient so to write a really bad story by deadline
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Jul 14, 2019 16:19
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Rosa Flores. That was her name. Then she was a zombie. And zombies have no name. Only hunger. The capitalists were having their biannual money meeting when Rosa shambled onto the stage, took the microphone, and swallowed the entire thing in a single gulp. With the wire swinging from her mouth as she wildly flailed her head from side to side, the ex-Ms. Flores spat vile black liquid upon every onlooker. The crowd of suited men proceeded to dissolve into a homogenous yet lumpy flesh pile. It was gargantuan, massive, and fleshy. The mass, now of a single mind, raised its multitudinous appendages and prayed to its new goddess. Her name was Rosa Flores.
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Jul 15, 2019 04:39
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nevermind. pale one who came from heliopolis and judges babbling Mr. Steak fucked around with this message at 16:28 on Jul 15, 2019 |
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Jul 15, 2019 16:06
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Exmond posted:Pass wait, that's illegal
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Jul 16, 2019 17:21
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