The Good News Thread: I'm So Excited! And I Just Can't Hide It!

[Queen Elsa Steelheart she/her]

That's good, I wish I had the same luck. Hockey season starts in a week and I still can barely walk let-alone run.

 

Sorry to hear that I hope you get better before the Hockey season starts.

[Kestrel she/her]

Made sweepstakes in band tonight! My band director's first contest, actually. Happy for all of us! What a great year!

[Briar King]

Woot woot! Just saw a lot of live streaming of Star Wars Celebration Day 1 and was treated to see the 2nd teaser!! Yay

[Kestrel she/her]

My crush gave me a flower today

I

It was so pretty I

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

My crush gave me a flower today

I

It was so pretty I

 

What kind of flower was it? 

[Kestrel she/her]

A little pink rose

I shall keep it safe forever

Until it wrinkles and dies but I'll worry about that later.

[Kobold King he/him]

My crush gave me a flower today

I

It was so pretty I

 

 

Ah, nothing like young love. Walking together on starry nights. Chattering excitedly together about whatever the other's interested in. Seeing the smiles of someone you care about more and more each day. Heartbreak when she dumps you. Grinding gears as you create a metal automaton in her image. The chill of a cloudy night spent digging at the cemetery for brains suitable for implantation. The clanking and clicking of the completed machine, the perfect iron woman. The rush of power, realizing that you are Dr. Frankenstein, Pygmalion even, the creator of life.

 

The knock-knock of FBI agents at your doorstep. The fumes of your life work going up in smoke as they raid your dwelling. The harsh stare of the judge as he calls your beautiful automaton an act against God. Your own laughter echoing through the chamber as you call him and all the jurors fools and imbeciles. The banging of the gavel as he orders you hauled from the chamber. The hatred pouring out of your mouth in a gush of curses and promises of pains no mortal has ever born before.

 

The bite of handcuffs as they transfer you to a maximum security prison in the Atlantic. The palpable fear and revulsion from the guards. The jeers of the prisoners, cutting off when they see the burning, genius soul boring into them through your eyes. The squeaking of your cell door, trapping you in solitary confinement for years.

 

The exhilaration of being woken up in the middle of the night by a familiar clanking. Your automaton, the beautiful woman forged from iron and renounced passion, cutting through the bars of your cell. They called her an abomination, an act against God! If only they could see her now, carrying her gleeful creator on her back as she soars across the ocean with the rocket boosters you so thoughtfully installed in her clockwork feet!

 

Gratitude and passion surging through your veins as you land again on the mainland. Looking into her glass eyes, expecting to see love, only to see a dead blackness. Reaching out to her only for her to wince back with the creak of a rusty hinge. Tearfully asking what's wrong. Why are you being rejected by the fruit of your own labors?

 

Watching her disengage her rockets and take a step backwards towards the ocean. There's a sheer drop, she won't withstand a drop from so high! Begging her to stay and explain why she rescued you, only to reject you and take her own life. Words falling on perfectly crafted ears that nonetheless refuse to heed them.

 

Watching your beloved automaton step backwards off the cliff. Barely hearing the splash of metal meeting the ocean over the sounds of your anguish. Sobbing for hours on the dark cliff side, wondering what went wrong in the design you were so sure was perfect. Wondering if perhaps you were the one with the flaw, expecting a newborn sentience to fall in love with you. Plunging her into a world not ready for her. Putting her in danger from authorities who tried and failed to destroy her.

 

Standing up. Facing the sunrise. Realizing your mistakes but knowing you can do better. Walking down the nearest road, a smile on your face and a plan stirring in your skull.

 

Weeks later. The cool, crisp air of the morgue. Carefully packing away the brain you've harvested. Hiding it in your empty lunchbox and walking up the stairs of the hospital.

 

Waving at the receptionists and nurses who have come to know you as the brightest, friendliest mortician they've ever seen. Heading to your car--stopping at the grocery store on your way back home. Casually tearing down the "Wanted" poster they've hung up on the billboard, chuckling internally at the dramatic goatee you'd grown during your mad-scientist days.

 

Pulling up at your apartment. Heading inside. Turning on the lights. Entering the closet.

 

Gazing at the perfectly crafted metal woman, waiting for the spike of life. Implanting the brain. Attuning it to the unique programming you've designed for this new being. This will not be an undead parody of the cadaver that supplied the brain--this will be a new consciousness, a new entity rising from the ashes of one that's left the mortal world behind.

 

You finish your calibrations. You flip on a switch. The lights of your apartment short out, as do the lights of every home for miles and miles around. Darkness is a small price to pay for the birth of a new soul! There's a crispness to the air as the energy pours into the metal form, sparking a new life into being.

 

The room is dark, but glass eyes light up. A metal hand creaks as it raises in greeting.

 

You raise your own hand, a smile on your face and exhilaration filling your spirit with delight. This is not the exhilaration of a lonely man who built himself a girlfriend. This is the pride a father feels watching his daughter step into being.

 

This time, things will be different. You open your mouth to tell your mechanical daughter the glorious destiny you've planned for her...

 

...

...

 

Sorry, what were we talking about?

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Ah, nothing like young love. Walking together on starry nights. Chattering excitedly together about whatever the other's interested in. Seeing the smiles of someone you care about more and more each day. Heartbreak when she dumps you. Grinding gears as you create a metal automaton in her image. The chill of a cloudy night spent digging at the cemetery for brains suitable for implantation. The clanking and clicking of the completed machine, the perfect iron woman. The rush of power, realizing that you are Dr. Frankenstein, Pygmalion even, the creator of life.

The knock-knock of FBI agents at your doorstep. The fumes of your life work going up in smoke as they raid your dwelling. The harsh stare of the judge as he calls your beautiful automaton an act against God. Your own laughter echoing through the chamber as you call him and all the jurors fools and imbeciles. The banging of the gavel as he orders you hauled from the chamber. The hatred pouring out of your mouth in a gush of curses and promises of pains no mortal has ever born before.

The bite of handcuffs as they transfer you to a maximum security prison in the Atlantic. The palpable fear and revulsion from the guards. The jeers of the prisoners, cutting off when they see the burning, genius soul boring into them through your eyes. The squeaking of your cell door, trapping you in solitary confinement for years.

The exhilaration of being woken up in the middle of the night by a familiar clanking. Your automaton, the beautiful woman forged from iron and renounced passion, cutting through the bars of your cell. They called her an abomination, an act against God! If only they could see her now, carrying her gleeful creator on her back as she soars across the ocean with the rocket boosters you so thoughtfully installed in her clockwork feet!

Gratitude and passion surging through your veins as you land again on the mainland. Looking into her glass eyes, expecting to see love, only to see a dead blackness. Reaching out to her only for her to wince back with the creak of a rusty hinge. Tearfully asking what's wrong. Why are you being rejected by the fruit of your own labors?

Watching her disengage her rockets and take a step backwards towards the ocean. There's a sheer drop, she won't withstand a drop from so high! Begging her to stay and explain why she rescued you, only to reject you and take her own life. Words falling on perfectly crafted ears that nonetheless refuse to heed them.

Watching your beloved automaton step backwards off the cliff. Barely hearing the splash of metal meeting the ocean over the sounds of your anguish. Sobbing for hours on the dark cliff side, wondering what went wrong in the design you were so sure was perfect. Wondering if perhaps you were the one with the flaw, expecting a newborn sentience to fall in love with you. Plunging her into a world not ready for her. Putting her in danger from authorities who tried and failed to destroy her.

Standing up. Facing the sunrise. Realizing your mistakes but knowing you can do better. Walking down the nearest road, a smile on your face and a plan stirring in your skull.

Weeks later. The cool, crisp air of the morgue. Carefully packing away the brain you've harvested. Hiding it in your empty lunchbox and walking up the stairs of the hospital.

Waving at the receptionists and nurses who have come to know you as the brightest, friendliest mortician they've ever seen. Heading to your car--stopping at the grocery store on your way back home. Casually tearing down the "Wanted" poster they've hung up on the billboard, chuckling internally at the dramatic goatee you'd grown during your mad-scientist days.

Pulling up at your apartment. Heading inside. Turning on the lights. Entering the closet.

Gazing at the perfectly crafted metal woman, waiting for the spike of life. Implanting the brain. Attuning it to the unique programming you've designed for this new being. This will not be an undead parody of the cadaver that supplied the brain--this will be a new consciousness, a new entity rising from the ashes of one that's left the mortal world behind.

You finish your calibrations. You flip on a switch. The lights of your apartment short out, as do the lights of every home for miles and miles around. Darkness is a small price to pay for the birth of a new soul! There's a crispness to the air as the energy pours into the metal form, sparking a new life into being.

The room is dark, but glass eyes light up. A metal hand creaks as it raises in greeting.

You raise your own hand, a smile on your face and exhilaration filling your spirit with delight. This is not the exhilaration of a lonely man who built himself a girlfriend. This is the pride a father feels watching his daughter step into being.

This time, things will be different. You open your mouth to tell your mechanical daughter the glorious destiny you've planned for her...

...

...

Sorry, what were we talking about?

And I thought my "met a guy who turned out to be a jerk, which you only learned after he'd thoroughly overstayed his welcome, so you dumped him only to have him write a bunch of nasty breakup songs about you and post them on Facebook, forcing you to block him for fear he'll use stuff on your profile to write more awful songs about you" was the most horrifying turn a young love story could take.

[Kobold King he/him]

And I thought my "met a guy who turned out to be a jerk, which you only learned after he'd thoroughly overstayed his welcome, so you dumped him only to have him write a bunch of nasty breakup songs about you and post them on Facebook, forcing you to block him for fear he'll use stuff on your profile to write more awful songs about you" was the most horrifying turn a young love story could take.

 

Maybe I should start a blog called "It Could Be Worse" filled with stories like the one above. It never hurts to remind people that things could be a lot worse, not to mention surreal and supervillainish, then they are right now.

[Kestrel she/her]

That was

Art

[Delightful]

Kobold......

In the most complimentary way possible.

With a sizeable side dish of "what the actual heck".

Good job

[+Slowswift]

Kobold? Terror upvote. Please don't kill me.

[Delightful]

Kobold? Terror upvote. Please don't kill me.

So this is Kobolds new rep strategy!

[Kobold King he/him]

That was

Art

Kobold..... .

In the most complimentary way possible.

With a sizeable side dish of "what the actual heck".

Good job

Kobold? Terror upvote. Please don't kill me.

 

Smiling in front of the computer, grateful for the praise and laughing at the terror. Watching the upvotes rolling in, the number in the green box rising. The feeling of jubilation and achievement. This is why you joined the site in the first place; the thrill of being appreciated.

 

(Thanks, guys. I'm toying with the idea of editing the story a bit, tidying up a few inconsistencies and screwy sentences, and then posting it to Creator's Corner. What do you think?)

[+Slowswift]

Do it. A horror story to rival the works of Shelley and Stoker.

[Kaymyth she/her]

Smiling in front of the computer, grateful for the praise and laughing at the terror. Watching the upvotes rolling in, the number in the green box rising. The feeling of jubilation and achievement. This is why you joined the site in the first place; the thrill of being appreciated.

 

(Thanks, guys. I'm toying with the idea of editing the story a bit, tidying up a few inconsistencies and screwy sentences, and then posting it to Creator's Corner. What do you think?)

 

Are you sure you're not Jonathan Coulton?  Because that whole spiel had distinct notes of "Skullcrusher Mountain" and "The Future Soon" in it...

[Kestrel she/her]

Smiling in front of the computer, grateful for the praise and laughing at the terror. Watching the upvotes rolling in, the number in the green box rising. The feeling of jubilation and achievement. This is why you joined the site in the first place; the thrill of being appreciated.

 

(Thanks, guys. I'm toying with the idea of editing the story a bit, tidying up a few inconsistencies and screwy sentences, and then posting it to Creator's Corner. What do you think?)

oh no, guys, don't upvote. Don't do it. It gives power. I fear if he becomes too powerful. There is a horrible plan here. Horrible. Something. It will end us all!

(Yes, do post it.)

[Delightful]

End us, or turn us into creepy automatons. Who can then fight back from within at the unsuspecting Kobold king!

.....for a Kobold king, your kobolds seem pretty absent. Never seen 'em.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Are you sure you're not Jonathan Coulton?  Because that whole spiel had distinct notes of "Skullcrusher Mountain" and "The Future Soon" in it...

 

It is like something JoCo would write! I love that guy. 

[Kobold King he/him]

Are you sure you're not Jonathan Coulton?  Because that whole spiel had distinct notes of "Skullcrusher Mountain" and "The Future Soon" in it...

It is like something JoCo would write! I love that guy. 

 

I haven't read anything by him, but now I think I should.

 

 

.....for a Kobold king, your kobolds seem pretty absent. Never seen 'em.

 

Oh, they're there. Pray that you never have need to see them.

[Kaymyth she/her]

I haven't read anything by him, but now I think I should.

 

 

Well, more listened to.  He's a musician.  More specifically, he is the King of Geek Rock.

[traceria she/her]

End us, or turn us into creepy automatons. Who can then fight back from within at the unsuspecting Kobold king!

.....for a Kobold king, your kobolds seem pretty absent. Never seen 'em.

He used to have one in his pic awhile ago, I believe...at least it looked like the kobolds from the D&D board game (this one) we have.

 

On the love note...  How about a guy who one minute was saying he wanted to marry you, the next was saying he was interested again in his high school girlfriend (who didn't want to get back together with him) and then the next (or, you know, three years later) sending you an email asking you to buy his self-published ebook like he wasn't a complete jerk that hadn't been blocked from your one email account immediately after you told him you'd see him next in the Tranquiline Halls and not a moment before then (apparently I forgot to block him from the other email account).

[mail-mi he/him]

Prom is next saturday, and I'm going with my crush. Which is really exciting, but not really unexpected, since we've been "almost boy/girlfriend" for about six months now. But what is really exciting is my friend, you know, the type that refuses to date because girls are scary? Yeah. TOMORROW HE'S ASKING A GIRL TO PROM!!!

Edited April 24, 2015 by mail-mi

[Quiver he/him]

On the love note...  How about a guy who one minute was saying he wanted to marry you, the next was saying he was interested again in his high school girlfriend (who didn't want to get back together with him) and then the next (or, you know, three years later) sending you an email asking you to buy his self-published ebook like he wasn't a complete jerk that hadn't been blocked from your one email account immediately after you told him you'd see him next in the Tranquiline Halls and not a moment before then (apparently I forgot to block him from the other email account).

 

...Sympathies? Because damnation, that is... pretty chullish behavior. I think this guy is a real life Diamond Tiara.

 

Uh... random good news? I saw a midnight showing of Avengers: Age of Ultron. So that was pretty cool; doubly so since I was attending it with an old friend of mine.

I'm exhausted now though.

[traceria she/her]

Oh man, Quiver, I'm a tad bit jealous of the early showing!  (At least, it's early for us in the states since the official release is May 1st.)  Good?!?