This is really beautiful, and made me reflect on all the moments I've already forgotten with my wife ❤️

The Quarians and the Geth would like a word

Into the gray brick room Sir Calidan opened the heavy door. He liked this room. It had one of the few doorways he didn't have to duck through.

"Ah, Calidan, late as always," the Queen said, folding her hands into her lap, "I trust you did not tell others where you were headed?"

Calidan bowed, "Of course not. It's only been twenty or so years of service. I think I've learned secrecy by now."

"You think," replied the Queen. Calidan could almost feel her eyes rolling.

"Is this about the. . . strange boy?" Calidan stood, taking up half the room.

The queen's eyes threw daggers at Calidan."How did. . . Yes, it is about that traitor, but more importantly, about that village," the queen sighed, "There are troubles. Talks of free speech. . . personal liberties. . . voting. . ." she trailed off, now looking out the window beside her. Even the birds knew not to sing. She wasn't in a vengeful mood, but how could the birds know. They kept their songs to themselves, and hopped away.

Calidan straightened his back at the word "voting". The first sunny day all year, and I have to water the fields with blood.. he thought. Everybody knew the royal family was voted into power generations ago. They kept the power to themselves.

He had been asking himself how much longer he wanted to be a knight, let alone the queen's most trusted -- he wondered if he had ever wanted to be a knight at all, or if fate forced him into being the violent fist of the queen.

"Do you want us to go and, uh, well, 'water the daises'?" he cracked his knuckles, a habit of his when he's not looking forward to the answer.

"Twenty years of service, huh? Really?", the queen looked at him sharply, "Do you think I tell you these things to make myself feel better? Yes, go water the fucking daisies or whatever else you want to call it."

Calidan slumped, and looked at the ground, "Yes m'Queen" and turned to exit the room. He was hoping to enjoy the day, now the sunshine will make the blood ripen quickly. He grimaced, thinking of the copper stench.

He marched to the barracks, each step goading him into writing his notice of retirement. The queen would just behead me --same day-- if I was fired. Do I even need a two week notice? He entered the barracks, and told the guard on duty to round up seven others. I don't want to smell today, he thought, and changed into breathable clothes. Today I'll be an observer.. Yes YES that's it! I'll decide who gets a promotion, and then the queen will tell me there's no room for promotions, and I'll tell her there's a space freeing up as "most trusted knight" and.. he paused as he thought of the queens reaction, and then there might be some space freeing up right above my neck.. he sighed, tightening his leather boots.

A guard yelled from outside, "Here, sir!". Calidan walked out into the courtyard, and only saw the single man at attention. "Is it only you", Calidan asked, "You announced when only you arrived?"

The guard fidgeted, "Err -- Yes, sir!". Calidan slapped his forehead, Fuck me, I'm never going to retire. "How long have you served the Queen?"

"A fortnight, sir, but I have generations of service from my father and his father befor--" Calidan's mind drifted as the guard continued on and on. We're really using kids now, huh? Maybe the war isn't going as well as I'm being told... when he looked up, three more guards had fallen into a line behind the teenager.

"Right, are you lads ready? The others can catch up on the road," Calidan said as he turned to walk out the thick iron wrought gate. He heard the metal boots move quickly, forming a rhythm as they fell into line behind him.

The gate groaned open, exposing them all to the hot sun and dirt.

"Where are we going, sir?" the child in shining metal armor asked.

"To water the fields" Calidan replied sharply. A pause let him know the guard was thinking. "Sir. . . Isn't that a job for farmers?" he asked sheepishly. Good King, I've never killed a guard but that my change today, Calidan thought.

Calidan looked back and saw another guard had fallen into line. Missing two; ruining a sunny day AND I need to do paperwork? Great. Wonderful day, he thought to himself, kicking a rock on the path.

They reached the outskirts of the village, and Calidan told the soldiers to march into the center and yell about traitors, free speech, etc. He was going to do some reconaissance. As the metal clanging grew quieter, Calidan went into the pub.

Before his eyes could adjust, he heard whispers, "Unionization . . . Collective bargaining . . . Sick time--" he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He absolutely could not believe that he was agreeing with them.

"-- and we can depose the Crimson Bitch once and for all!" A scraggly man banged on the table with such gusto that Calidan felt admiration well up inside him.

"Crimson Bi-- you mean the Crimson Monarch?" he asked, having heard that name before but never understanding, "What is that?"

The man laughed, "The vengeful tyrant, the murderous woman, the queen!" the man laughed, then fell silent and eyed Calidan, "Where are you from?"

"Err," Calidan cracked a knuckle, "From the, uh. . . I arrived by boat earlier today, on the way to see the queen. . . but I got thirsty! Haha." he looked around, gauging the others' faces.

The group stared at him, until a burly man sitting down said, "Then take this to her" and flipped his middle finger. They exploded into laughter, and beckoned Calidan to join them.

The mead was served quickly, and consistently. Laughter was not often heard throughout the kingdom, especially in the castle, but it was abundant here. Calidan slammed his fist on the table, "Down with the queen!" and raised his glass. The force of several others clinking against it splashed the drink high. . . . .

That's all I'm able to write for now, will come back to it if there's any interest. Thanks for reading!

r/XandertheWriter

Kiss and Make Up

Snow swirled on the rooftop of Neutron industries, Star City's tallest skyscraper, a modern day coliseum where those more than human did battle. Dr. Neutron was up to his old tricks again, threatening to detonate an electromagnetic pulse bomb, cripple the city's power grid and bring it to its knees. His eternal nemesis, Fuzion, had to stop him, like she always did. The two were locked in a standoff.

The superheroine powered up. Her long orange hair stood on end, her matching cape furiously flapped in the surge of power. Green nuclear flames raged in her pupils, matched her green domino mask. An explosion of swirling plasma exploded from Fuzion's fist. The mad doctor merely raised his gloved hand, absorbing the attack. Steam billowed from the glove.

"Good thing I'm wearing safety goggles, that would have singed my eyebrows. Don't tell me that was your best shot." Neutron smugly smiled at his adversary, running his hand through his wavy grey hair. "Allow me to retort." In Dr. Neutron's hand even the simplest objects could become weapons of mass destruction. He tightly packed a large snowball, tossing it lightly in his hand, letting the core form into pure hydrogen.

A weapon is only useful with a good delivery system, Neutron was a man of science, not an athlete, his throw landed at Fuzion's feet, no kaboom either.

Fuzion chuckled. "Good arm doc, that went a whole.....five feet." She teased.

"It's cold, haven't had time to let my arm warm up." Neutron windmilled his right arm trying to get the old blood flowing. "Give me one more try." Neutron began forming another weapon, a blast of green flames from Fuzion's eyes melted the snow around him.

"Come on Doc, why would I give you another chance? Running out of tricks already?" She mocked.

Neutron slyly smiled. "Far from it. Just needed you to stay still for a second, make sure the payload lands in the right spot." He turned his gaze upwards.

Fuzion followed suit. A clear dome descended from the clouds, slamming down around Fuzion, trapping her.

Neutron slowly paced around the dome. "This certainly fits the holiday aesthetic. Want me to toss in some snow and shake you around? Really get the snowglobe effect?" Neutron's sinister laugh echoed from the rooftop. Fuzion banged her fist on the dome. Neutron tapped on it.

"Punch it all you want, you're not going to break it. Nano carbon, one thousand times stronger than diamond, not even your immeasurable strength could crack it, much less destroy it. For your own safety I should let you know something, the material takes Newton's third law quite seriously." Neutron loved delivering a monologue, he didn't do it nearly enough for his liking.

Fuzion cocked her head curiously as she paced around the enclosure.

Neutron sighed. "If you attack it...it attacks you back. That's the point I was trying to make. Well no delaying the inevitable. I'll figure out what to do with you soon, but back to business. Take a look at those brilliant city lights darling, it's the last time anyone ever will. Enjoy the show." Neutron strolled along the rooftop to board his War Zeppelin, needed to make sure the bomb went off in precisely the right spot.

He decided to take one last look at his nemesis in the light. She was gone. Neutron lifted his goggles, squinting through the snowflakes. A gust of warm air tickled his ear, soft lips pressed against it.

"Another swing and a miss. You really thought that would work? Didn't you?" Fuzion whispered softly.

"How did you?"

Fuzion reached down into her boot, Neutron snuck a peek down her cleavage, Fuzion noticed. She retrieved a small glass tube filled with a swirling galaxy. "Borrowed this from you, came in handy."

"That's where my short range wormhole generator went. I've been looking for that. You never cease to amaze me." Neutron embraced Fuzion, planting a deep kiss on her lips.

"How DARE you kiss me!? Do it again....please." Fuzion asked sheepishly.

Neutron laughed, a wholesome laugh this time around. "Knew that would make you break character. Can I ask a favor honey?"

Fuzion snuck in another kiss. "Shoot."

"How come I always have to lose? Be nice to have at least one victory during our sparring sessions." Neutron admitted.

Fuzion flipped her hair back, she leaned in close to whisper into his ear again. "If the hero doesn't win, it's not a happy ending. I know how much you like those...." She purred, taking Neutron's hand, leading him up the steps onto the War Zeppelin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out more at r/StarCityChronicles

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Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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A great knight is expected to battle many dangers in life. From dangerous terrain to monsters larger than life, there’s no rest for the weary. My days are often faced with trials and tribulations only befitting a hero of legend.

Today was no different.

I conquered the darkness underneath my bed, undeterred by the monsters lurking within. I wrangled a furry four-legged beast into submission and even dared to confront the green demons that plagued my evening meal. Despite these obstacles, I made it through the day relatively unscathed. Or so I thought.

When subduing Max, our four-legged beast of legend, I was wounded in the most pitiful of ways. Max’s altercation with a squirrel led to chaos, and despite my super-strength, the leash I tethered to my furry friend dragged me to the ground. While I was able to control the beast in the end, the scrapes on my knees and elbows bore wounds so horrific, I may never walk again.

But I’m a hero.

I remained strong.

Well, until my evening bath.

That woman that cares for me attempted to remove my pants despite my protests that no fair maiden should witness wounds as bad as mine. But her words were kind, and my dissent soon withered under her persistence. Her eyes widened as she took in my body's trauma, but she claimed to have just the medication to fix it.

Her lips soon puckered, and she planted the softest kisses on each knee.

How dare she kiss me?

The great knight of legend does not require such treatment.

…

But my wounds did feel better.

I asked her to kiss them again, just to make sure they were okay.

After all, I, the great knight of legend, had to be ready for the battles of the next day.

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

"La Puta Madre," I thought to myself. "Well, I need to ring the news stations and warn the masses of a serial killer on the loose." I got up from my desk, the mustard stain from the hotdog still on my brown blazer. I walked over to the chief's desk, opened the door, and peeked through. Chief Holt yelped and quickly closed a tab on his computer.

"Err... Sorry for not knocking," I said.

"What do you need?" He said, flustered.

"The Christmas Killer is back. I am going to call the stations and let them know."

"That's fine," he responded. I closed the door.

I was sitting back at my desk now thinking, "Jesus, Christmas Killer and walking in the boss in one day? I am one unlucky dude."

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Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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Reminders:

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Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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As I see the letters on my desk I am prepared for the normal weird Christmas problems that come every year. Flying reindeer sightings and that is obviously the real Santa. That is until I see the familiar vellum envelope addressed directly to me. Hand delivered as always by a random person, always different people. I turn it over to see the dread filled wax seal with the same imprint, a c that's in flames. I call over my superior as I always needed a witness last time so better start on the right foot with this one. I open the letter written on thick ancient paper and read aloud. 

"To my friend," they always started this way.

"On the first day of Christmas my friend couldn't stop me, from destroying an enemy." 

My heart sinks as I read these words. I thought i had put this case to bed 5 years ago. But no of course not. Something always felt wrong about the arrest that was made but no one would listen to me and now they are back and have probably already done it again. The Christmas killer is back, and I won't make the same mistake again.

Two pages or not you are an amazing writer you just gotta find something you love to write about

The problem with prophecy is that the universe can, very broadly, work in one of two different ways.

The first way almost guarantees that by seeing the future, you will change almost anything that you see, just by virtue of having seen it. Chaos theory assures that even the smallest change in your actions, compared to the future in which you did not see those events, will ripple outwards until nothing is as it would have been.

The other possible version means that once it has been seen, there is no free will for those events. They will happen, no matter what. Because in many ways, they already have. All opportunity to change already occurred, and it was over the moment the future was seen.

While there are absolutely lots of quite interesting uses for the first, the second is, fundamentally, much darker. If you don't act, that lack of action may cause the events. If you do act, your very action may cause the events.

No matter what, you can not alter anything that you have seen.

There are still things that one could do with visions of the future under those conditions, but they would be sharply limited.

It sounds like they are stuck in the second kind. May whatever deities watch over them have mercy on their souls.

Two pages is kinda the problem. I kinda hit a wall around two pages. Not sure how to get a long story than that….

[poem]

Five golden rings, five less married men.

A partridge alights upon a pear tree, next to the orchard owner hanging there.

The man dressed in red brings no presents but horror, only burning coal

Thank you! Having some fun with this one.

"How is this even supposed to work?" I ask.

My abductee/optimistic admirer is of the extraterrestrial persuasion. Not like a hot space babe from Star Trek, or a hot Spock also from Star Trek. Not even a little green man.

It's a rock.

Well, rock is maybe a bit disingenuous. My admirer is more crystaline than stone, several jagged spires radiating a blend of colors, gold veins crisscrossing all over the surface. Plopped directly in the center of a stark white room with cables attached to its base, the crystal referred to itself as a 'geo sapient'.

For the record, I still don't know where the voice is coming from, how it can speak English, or why in the name of God it sounded like Marilyn Monroe. I have decided to internally refer to this thing as Monrock.

"I believe you will make the ideal dance partner,' Monrock says. 'Mammalian, not too many limbs, and you don't excrete acid."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere."

Monrock is silent for a moment. "At this party we are going to-"

"I didn't agree to go."

"...that I would like to take you to, there will be ajll kinds of dancing."

"You already told me about this. How exactly do you dance?"

I notice that Monrock's colors fade a little. "It is difficult to explain. But when I say 'all kinds of dancing', I do mean that in that in the most literal sense. Dancing is not even the exact word. What I am talking about is the expression of the self through one's own physical and mental capabilities. There will be beings there who exist in multiple timelines simultaneously, entities that only exist in our minds, and species that are little more than sentient colors."

Well, it sure did sound like a hell of a party, at least.

"For my kind, it is incredibly difficult to compete with such strange and beautiful expressions. That is why I need a partner to help me."

I fold my arms. "And why me exactly."

Monrock goes quiet again.

"I just like you."

I roll my eyes. "What? Over celebrities, politicians, doctors, lawyers, billionaires...over all the billions of people on my planet?"

"Status and wealth on your world mean little to me. I vetted over one-thousand candidates, and you seem like the most fun."

Well, assuming that it isn't yanking my chain, I do find that flattering.

"All right. I'll give this a shot. But I'm not doing any 'sexy' dances, you hear? And there had better be food that I can digest. And booze."

Monrock, quite literally, brightens up.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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Well, there goes all of modern medicine and computing and transportation and any electronic device. Good luck chaps.

FR-4 is a plastic laminate and it's in just about every circuit board made in the past 40 years.