Nocturnis66
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ThrillingHuman
always be casual, never be careless
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I'm sorry please don't eat/kill/torture me
D
Deleted member 84247
Guest
It depends on the protagonist, but one of them is a marshmallow who tries to be friends with everyone. For her, I would just say "hi", and she would take over.
Another protagonist is the opposite of a marshmallow. For her, I would pledge my fealty, and hope I don't end up saying something wrong.
NotaNuffian
This does spark joy.
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"Suck my dick."
*Hoping for assisted suicide.
*Hoping for assisted suicide.
D
Deleted member 113259
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"Have you heard of Lucas McClain?"
AThriftyFilipino
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".... How's life?"
ThrillingHuman
always be casual, never be careless
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*takes out a soul-sucking leech*
TheEldritchGod
A Cloud Of Pure Spite And Eyes
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You might be wondering why I wrote you the way I did.
I'll let you in on a secret. If you live long enough there will be a point where gold loses its luster, diamonds stop sparkling, and the only thing you will value is TIME. Nothing else matters, except time. You start to measure everything you say and do in units of time. How much time is wasted doing X, and how to save time doing Y. What is important and needs to get done, and what you can put off because there are more important things.
Time spent with those who may not be around to spend with anymore.
However, given the situation, I, ironically, find myself like I am right now, sitting around and waiting while other people do what I cannot. They are being paid money both directly and indirectly by me to take the course of action that will give me more time. All I do is sit here, watching time pass.
It is amazing what you will sacrifice for mere moments.
And it is also amazing what becomes important. What gets brought into sharp clarity. What was important in your life, and what wasn't.
It. Is. MADDENING.
Trust me, You might WANT to spend every moment worrying about the one you love, but there's no point. I am helpless. I have no control. At this point, it is up to the winds of fate. The butterfly will flap its wings, and maybe a tornado destroys a trailer park in Ohio.
To sit here and obsess would weaken me. It would leave me mentally unfit. So many people depend on me. The one that I love is the one dying, not I. I simply do not have the luxury to worry about myself. I cannot allow myself to spiral into depression. I MUST remain of sound mind. I MUST hold it together. Failure is not an option.
But you cannot FORCE yourself to hold it together.
The only way to remain of sound mind when the universe is falling apart is to experience Joy. Happiness will be beyond you, but not joy. You can't hold your breath in anticipation forever. You have to keep breathing. Moments of positivity can give you just enough "oxygen". A mouthful of air.
A gasp in a vast echoing void.
When I find myself unable to sleep, and unable to do anything productive, I write. I write about the life of a man whose life is infinitely more screwed than mine. I write about you.
Nothing I write is just for fun, although I hope it might make people smile from time to time.
I am describing a man who is fighting ultimately against cosmic horror because I am fighting a more mundane horror and of the two, I would prefer the cosmic one. It would make more sense. The world that you live in is a terrible place, but it also has something the real world does not.
It has a face to punch.
There is something to blame for the horrors of your world. There is reason. There is logic. As unfair as your world is, There is a face somewhere that deserves to be punched. Your world has meaning.
My world has none. In my world, good things happen to bad people, bad things happen to good people, and there is no justice. Life is not fair in my world. And I tell myself, over and over, that this is a GOOD THING.
It is a good thing. Because if life was fair, that would mean I had it coming. It would mean I was a bad person being punished, or the people I love and care for are being punished and they are suffering because they are bad people... IF... the world is fair.
I know a man who was a first responder. He helped a little baby 18 months old. She had been raped by her stepfather so the mother could film it and sell the video online to make money to buy the Heroin-Fentanyl combo that is so popular here in central New York.
But his story... He told to me at 2 am one night, I work the night shift you see. When the clients have problems, I'm the one who handles them. This was just him unloading about the horrors that finally broke him. When he finished describing it, I asked if the baby had it coming. He almost attacked me. And I asked again, "Did the baby deserve it?" And he screamed "No" and, "How could I ask such a thing?"
I replied, "So you know that life isn't fair. If it was fair, she would have deserved it. People want life to be fair, but not me. If life was fair, then everyone would win half the time, and lose half the time. Most people when they say they want things to be fair actually mean they want the world to be UNFAIR in their advantage."
"Me? I want everyone to win. I want everyone to be happy. Even the people who raped that baby. I wish they had been happy enough they didn't HAVE to have done it in the first place. I want to cheat. I want everyone to cheat and everyone to win. Because that would be unfair. And in an unfair world, that would be possible."
He settled down and let go of me. I waited until he had time to think before I continued, "I'm telling you this, because you want the world to be fair, and it CAN'T be fair. You can never make this right. You can NEVER punish the guilty enough in this case, and you can NEVER compensate the victim enough. If you try, you'll only fail and eventually try to kill yourself again."
"I'm sorry. I really am. But you need to accept this hell you are in and let it go. Life is a pile of good things and a pile of bad things. They don't cancel each other out. They both exist and you have to deal with both SEPARATELY. Nobody who ever won the lottery deserved it. That baby didn't deserve what happened to her either. All we can do is accept what we cannot change and try to make things better going forward."
"So you got a choice. You can drag everything down into flames and burn the world to ash, or you can try to make the world a better place. Let those who committed wrong be dealt with by the justice system. That's what it's for. It's not perfect, but it's better than the alternative."
"I don't expect you to forgive the mother or the stepfather, but you need to put yourself first. Not just for you, but for those who depend on you. You aren't going to survive like this. You will keep breaking and winding up here until you find a way to let it go."
And he asked me how. I said, "I don't know. However, I have a board game over here. Let's try and get through the next twenty minutes."
...
Sometimes all I can do is get through the next twenty minutes.
And so I write. I write about silly things and horrifying things and true things and new ways of seeing things. I build a world based on truth and nonsense. It is a wall. It is a house of cards. It is a toy. It is a metaphor. It is a cross. It is... It's...
It's just a game.
A game I play to make myself forget the horror of the real world where I am powerless and helpless and alone. If I lie down nobody is coming to save me. In that respect, I identify with you. In the end, nobody will save us. We get back up, or we die where we fall. That's my life. That's always been our lives.
I tell myself that this is how things are and that every other option would be worse.
This IS the best of all possible worlds because every other option would be worse.
And occasionally I take some time to forget and to rest, not because I can't handle it. Far from it. I can handle the horror of my life just fine. The question is, For How LONG? Moments, where I write the shit I put you through, are just to rest. Not because I want to, but because I NEED to. I need to relax and rest because...
Well...
Things will get worse. When things get worse, I need to be ready. I need to be at my best. I cannot allow myself to be anything less than 100% ready to do everything I can at a moment's notice. All I have right now is hope. All I can depend on is chance, and chance is a fickle thing. If chance gives me an opportunity, I will have to be ready.
This is what I pour into you. I pour all of this into you and it fills you and then I try to break you. Again and again and again and again I shatter you against the rocks. I pound the surf into your soul and lash the wind into your back. Because if you can make it 20 more minutes, maybe I can make it 20 more minutes.
If life was fair, hope couldn't exist.
If life was fair, nothing would change, except that you would deserve all the shit that happened to you. That's all it takes for life to be fair... for you to DESERVE what happens to you. Nothing changes, just the purpose... just the reasons... just the MEANING of your suffering. So, between the two: life being fair, or life having hope, I'll take hope.
Your life isn't fair.
Neither is mine.
But we both have hope.
And it will have to be enough.
But for what it's worth, I've had people talk to me and tell me that you inspired them. That, like me, they found solace in your suffering. Because no matter how far down I beat you, or how I cripple or scar you, you shrug it off and get back up.
Because in the end, that's what makes a man a man.
He gets back up.
He doesn't get up because he has a plan, or back up, or because he has nothing left to lose.
He gets back up with the hope that a miracle will occur and somehow it'll all work out in the end.
...
I want to live in a world where sometimes...
Things work out in my favor...
Even if I don't deserve it.
Because right about now...
I could REALLY use an unearned miracle.
I'll let you in on a secret. If you live long enough there will be a point where gold loses its luster, diamonds stop sparkling, and the only thing you will value is TIME. Nothing else matters, except time. You start to measure everything you say and do in units of time. How much time is wasted doing X, and how to save time doing Y. What is important and needs to get done, and what you can put off because there are more important things.
Time spent with those who may not be around to spend with anymore.
However, given the situation, I, ironically, find myself like I am right now, sitting around and waiting while other people do what I cannot. They are being paid money both directly and indirectly by me to take the course of action that will give me more time. All I do is sit here, watching time pass.
It is amazing what you will sacrifice for mere moments.
And it is also amazing what becomes important. What gets brought into sharp clarity. What was important in your life, and what wasn't.
It. Is. MADDENING.
Trust me, You might WANT to spend every moment worrying about the one you love, but there's no point. I am helpless. I have no control. At this point, it is up to the winds of fate. The butterfly will flap its wings, and maybe a tornado destroys a trailer park in Ohio.
To sit here and obsess would weaken me. It would leave me mentally unfit. So many people depend on me. The one that I love is the one dying, not I. I simply do not have the luxury to worry about myself. I cannot allow myself to spiral into depression. I MUST remain of sound mind. I MUST hold it together. Failure is not an option.
But you cannot FORCE yourself to hold it together.
The only way to remain of sound mind when the universe is falling apart is to experience Joy. Happiness will be beyond you, but not joy. You can't hold your breath in anticipation forever. You have to keep breathing. Moments of positivity can give you just enough "oxygen". A mouthful of air.
A gasp in a vast echoing void.
When I find myself unable to sleep, and unable to do anything productive, I write. I write about the life of a man whose life is infinitely more screwed than mine. I write about you.
Nothing I write is just for fun, although I hope it might make people smile from time to time.
I am describing a man who is fighting ultimately against cosmic horror because I am fighting a more mundane horror and of the two, I would prefer the cosmic one. It would make more sense. The world that you live in is a terrible place, but it also has something the real world does not.
It has a face to punch.
There is something to blame for the horrors of your world. There is reason. There is logic. As unfair as your world is, There is a face somewhere that deserves to be punched. Your world has meaning.
My world has none. In my world, good things happen to bad people, bad things happen to good people, and there is no justice. Life is not fair in my world. And I tell myself, over and over, that this is a GOOD THING.
It is a good thing. Because if life was fair, that would mean I had it coming. It would mean I was a bad person being punished, or the people I love and care for are being punished and they are suffering because they are bad people... IF... the world is fair.
I know a man who was a first responder. He helped a little baby 18 months old. She had been raped by her stepfather so the mother could film it and sell the video online to make money to buy the Heroin-Fentanyl combo that is so popular here in central New York.
But his story... He told to me at 2 am one night, I work the night shift you see. When the clients have problems, I'm the one who handles them. This was just him unloading about the horrors that finally broke him. When he finished describing it, I asked if the baby had it coming. He almost attacked me. And I asked again, "Did the baby deserve it?" And he screamed "No" and, "How could I ask such a thing?"
I replied, "So you know that life isn't fair. If it was fair, she would have deserved it. People want life to be fair, but not me. If life was fair, then everyone would win half the time, and lose half the time. Most people when they say they want things to be fair actually mean they want the world to be UNFAIR in their advantage."
"Me? I want everyone to win. I want everyone to be happy. Even the people who raped that baby. I wish they had been happy enough they didn't HAVE to have done it in the first place. I want to cheat. I want everyone to cheat and everyone to win. Because that would be unfair. And in an unfair world, that would be possible."
He settled down and let go of me. I waited until he had time to think before I continued, "I'm telling you this, because you want the world to be fair, and it CAN'T be fair. You can never make this right. You can NEVER punish the guilty enough in this case, and you can NEVER compensate the victim enough. If you try, you'll only fail and eventually try to kill yourself again."
"I'm sorry. I really am. But you need to accept this hell you are in and let it go. Life is a pile of good things and a pile of bad things. They don't cancel each other out. They both exist and you have to deal with both SEPARATELY. Nobody who ever won the lottery deserved it. That baby didn't deserve what happened to her either. All we can do is accept what we cannot change and try to make things better going forward."
"So you got a choice. You can drag everything down into flames and burn the world to ash, or you can try to make the world a better place. Let those who committed wrong be dealt with by the justice system. That's what it's for. It's not perfect, but it's better than the alternative."
"I don't expect you to forgive the mother or the stepfather, but you need to put yourself first. Not just for you, but for those who depend on you. You aren't going to survive like this. You will keep breaking and winding up here until you find a way to let it go."
And he asked me how. I said, "I don't know. However, I have a board game over here. Let's try and get through the next twenty minutes."
...
Sometimes all I can do is get through the next twenty minutes.
And so I write. I write about silly things and horrifying things and true things and new ways of seeing things. I build a world based on truth and nonsense. It is a wall. It is a house of cards. It is a toy. It is a metaphor. It is a cross. It is... It's...
It's just a game.
A game I play to make myself forget the horror of the real world where I am powerless and helpless and alone. If I lie down nobody is coming to save me. In that respect, I identify with you. In the end, nobody will save us. We get back up, or we die where we fall. That's my life. That's always been our lives.
I tell myself that this is how things are and that every other option would be worse.
This IS the best of all possible worlds because every other option would be worse.
And occasionally I take some time to forget and to rest, not because I can't handle it. Far from it. I can handle the horror of my life just fine. The question is, For How LONG? Moments, where I write the shit I put you through, are just to rest. Not because I want to, but because I NEED to. I need to relax and rest because...
Well...
Things will get worse. When things get worse, I need to be ready. I need to be at my best. I cannot allow myself to be anything less than 100% ready to do everything I can at a moment's notice. All I have right now is hope. All I can depend on is chance, and chance is a fickle thing. If chance gives me an opportunity, I will have to be ready.
This is what I pour into you. I pour all of this into you and it fills you and then I try to break you. Again and again and again and again I shatter you against the rocks. I pound the surf into your soul and lash the wind into your back. Because if you can make it 20 more minutes, maybe I can make it 20 more minutes.
If life was fair, hope couldn't exist.
If life was fair, nothing would change, except that you would deserve all the shit that happened to you. That's all it takes for life to be fair... for you to DESERVE what happens to you. Nothing changes, just the purpose... just the reasons... just the MEANING of your suffering. So, between the two: life being fair, or life having hope, I'll take hope.
Your life isn't fair.
Neither is mine.
But we both have hope.
And it will have to be enough.
But for what it's worth, I've had people talk to me and tell me that you inspired them. That, like me, they found solace in your suffering. Because no matter how far down I beat you, or how I cripple or scar you, you shrug it off and get back up.
Because in the end, that's what makes a man a man.
He gets back up.
He doesn't get up because he has a plan, or back up, or because he has nothing left to lose.
He gets back up with the hope that a miracle will occur and somehow it'll all work out in the end.
...
I want to live in a world where sometimes...
Things work out in my favor...
Even if I don't deserve it.
Because right about now...
I could REALLY use an unearned miracle.
Succubiome
Well-known member
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"So, uh... first of all, sorry, I think I'm kinda your author. You know, the one writing your story? I was fairly sure you were just sort of an idea I had, but uh... here you are, so that calls into question several of my beliefs about reality. But hey, since you are here... are you interested in seeing if I can use the power of narrative authority to fix both of our worlds?"
Sola-sama
Corpo
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My mc is the most murderous Magus of his civilization. He'd kill me before I could say anything, my corpse would be refined into a puppet, and my soul will be devoured by him, all memories plundered. He then started to murder the trees and all the living things in his proximity before finding a way to go home, in which he'll kill everything on the way.
D
Deleted member 113259
Guest
Yeah, but what did you say to him?
ArchlordZero
Stage 4 Cancer Shitposter
- Joined
- Aug 10, 2020
- Messages
- 328
- Points
- 133
I have several novels already, and I will just act as a prophet for them.
To Yohan: Your girl's gonna die.
To Amphere: You will all die.
To Alaric: You can break the 4th wall, so I'm gonna die.
To Xenon: All must die!
To John: Your sequel died.
To Ulysses: Your readership died.
To Elzane: I'm dying to finish your story.
To Jonathan: You hope you die.
To Yohan: Your girl's gonna die.
To Amphere: You will all die.
To Alaric: You can break the 4th wall, so I'm gonna die.
To Xenon: All must die!
To John: Your sequel died.
To Ulysses: Your readership died.
To Elzane: I'm dying to finish your story.
To Jonathan: You hope you die.
D
Deleted member 113259
Guest
I don't think OP was asking for writing advice.
ACertainPassingUser
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If i wrote a documentary news with real person written as character, and then I would probably just greet them, walk together, and chat as usual like how we did it before and during the writing process.
Piisfun
Playful Spacetime Dragon
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2020
- Messages
- 474
- Points
- 133
I would be less worried about the conversation, and be more concerned with why all the trees are either firing darts or trying to stab me with needles...
D
Deleted member 58005
Guest
They're me. He's me, but with the power to back his superiority complex.
That being said, I'd ask him to give me some of his powers.
That being said, I'd ask him to give me some of his powers.