#sad story

i miss mcdonalds

so on friday i found out that i have celiac disease and today i had to give away the rest of my easter candy because it all contains wheat

For someone who who struggles with two seconds of attention, I dream of becoming famous far too often.

*stressed bird noises*

Killing your favourite character in your own story or fanfiction is a whole different kind of pain.

A story ag the same level of KEY’s Visual Novel

i really love this, my little’s yarn

agentladyhawkeye:

misscheiviousandmim:

I’m not the most eloquent writer, but I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while and figured I’d put it out into the universe.

A lot of the basis for the “humans are space orcs” stuff is the idea that we’re pretty durable compared to many species, yeah? When it comes to physical trauma, we can bounce back from most things that don’t kill us outright, especially given the benefit of hypothetical space-age technology, and adrenaline is one heck of a drug when it comes to functioning under stress. 

But that doesn’t make us unkillable, and even though we can survive debilitating injuries and not die from shock, it doesn’t mean it’s fun.Dying of shock sucks, but at least it’s probably quick.

So - Imagine a ship, adrift in space, slowly being drawn into a star or something. In order to save the ship, someone has to repair the hyper-quantum-relay-majig on the hull or in the engine or whatever. Bit of a problem though- there’s a ton of deadly, deadly radiation (Wrath of Khan style) or poisonous fumes or, I dunno, electrical current, between the crew and the repair. Like, enough to kill most species instantly, so the crew is just like, ‘welp, guess we’ll die then’. But then.

BUT THEN

They ask the human. Because everyone’s heard the stories - you’re basically unkillable, right? Could you survive long enough in there to fix it? And their human goes real quiet for a second, but still says ‘Yeah, I could fix it’. And the rest of the crew is like, ‘Whaaaaaa, it won’t kill you?’ and the human repeats “I can fix it” (which isn’t an answer, but no one catches that, not yet at least), so they send ‘em in. And the human fixes it, they come back, the ship flies to safety, and the crew is thrilled to survive. If the human is a little quiet, well, they’re entitled after pulling off a miracle. Everyone else is just excited to get to the nearest station’s bar to tell their very own human story, cuz, ‘those crazy humans, amiright?’.

The good mood keeps up until the human is late for their next shift. At first it’s just faint unease, but- but they earned a bit of a lie-in, right? No reason to begrudge them some extra rest, even if it is a little weird for them to oversleep. They’ll be fine. Humans are always fine. 

(Right?)

(…Wrong.)

- What is… help. Help!-

- ake up! You have t-

- been days. You need sleep, you-

- nother transfusion. We could-

- out of sedatives!-

A week later, the crew finally reaches the station. They stumble into the bar, haggard and haunted. And over the next months and years a new rumor about humans starts to make its way through space. A rumor unlike any before.

‘Be careful with your humans’ it whispers. ‘Their strength is not always a blessing. Be sure they don’t do something they can’t come back from, because when a human dies… they die slowly.’

The thing is, humans can be tricky. And if they’re sufficiently pack-bonded with a ship’s crew? And that crew is in danger? They’ll willingly offer themselves up to make sure the crew survives.

They won’t tell their crewmates that whatever danger it is will just kill them slowly, that they can endure the exposure but not the long-term effects.

But the idea that humans can be fragile? Can dielaterfrom exposure to radiation or toxins or electricity or even smoke inhalation?

It seems preposterous!

There are too many stories about humans surviving all sorts of conditions that would kill their other crewmates. A human dying slowly, later, lingering and in agony? It’s a creepy story but of course it’s not true.

But then… another crew shares their own story. Their human volunteered to go into the danger zone to fix what needed to be fixed. Or maybe she had to retrieve a critical component or resource. And she lingered. Wasted away. Later the human doctors told their medical team there was nothing they could do but make sure she was comfortable, ease her pain before the end.

And yet another crew, whose human plunged through smoke and ash to make sure his crew could escape. He choked and coughed and couldn’t get enough air. Their medical commander performed an autopsy and found his lungs and throat and sinuses all coated in black soot and blackened mucus and red blood.

So the stories spread. Just because they don’t die of shock, just because they don’t die right away doesn’t mean it won’t kill them. They linger in agony or unconscious or waste away slowly.

But what’s most horrifying of all?

When other humans hear the stories from the traumatized crewmembers?

They aren’t surprised or horrified.

They say “Of course”

They say “I would have done the same”

They say “it was the Right Thing to do”

And they’ll smile (what the crew’s human would have called a sad smile) and toast to the dead. For making “The ultimate sacrifice for the folks they loved” and every human listening will say the name and drink a shot of liquor.

Write a SAD 4 word story and POST HERE.

George Weasely has been acting strange for weeks, and his friend is determined to get to the bottom of it. What she doesn’t expect, is what he has been feeling for far longer than she ever could have known.

“What?” I grabbed him by the shoulders, and he still avoided my eyes. “George, please! You’re scaring me”.

“You and him! He says your name and your face lights up like the sun. He kisses you and the whole universe dissolves around you. And you look at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters. You love him. I can’t see you with him because..” He was looking at me now, and for the first time, I wish I didn’t know him as well as I did, because I could see in his eyes that his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. “Because I wish it was me instead.”

“George..” I whispered, his name catching in my throat. He was in agony, and only now I could see it. “How long?” His shoulders slumped, and I could see him fighting with himself as he choked- “forever.”

I barely saw him sink to the floor through my own tears. My best friend, the one person I trusted more than anyone. How many times had we laughed together, cried together, talked until the sun came up and then fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders? And all the while, I’d been tearing him apart.

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely there, forced over a mountain of guilt that sat squarely on my chest. It might not ever move.

Nem bírtam ki, hogy ne forduljak be az utcába abban reménykedve, hogy látomőt.

Ésláttam…