Yep. I write fanfiction because I'm cool like that >3> For starters, I'm putting up my most recent fic. It's Hetalia, but I think it's really good. Regardless, I hope you enjoy anything I post here! [Each fic gets its own post to be fair]
This story is related to the dissolution of Prussia in 1945, just as a quick background. In Hetalia, Gilbert is the representation of Prussia.
What had happened to him? Where did it all go â€" why did it all go?
Such things were hard to consider when like this, but in reality, he didn't give two craps right now. Perhaps binge drinking was therapeutic to him. Perhaps it was some odd source of comfort, something to just distract him from everything. Which is really what he needed. His mind was fuzzy, head pounding wildly, eyes blurred from tears.
Crying. He hated the feeling. Crying was a form of weakness. Strong people never cried â€" they held back their tears and carried on. It was just a sign of how pathetic he was now.
Despite the nausea building in his stomach, Gilbert went for another bottle of beer, having little thought before chugging it down. Sick? So what if he felt sick? What was there he had to be well for?
Nothing. Free states weren't anything. They were just there, forgotten by others in a course of a few years. Who knew if people would care for his history in the future? Would he even be remembered?
"Crap…" He hissed, nausea spiking once again. Shakily, he rose, vomiting in the sink, coughing, more tears springing into his eyes. He knew better, so much better.
But after today, he just couldn't give a care anymore. He'd lost his country. So who cared what he did? Gilbert could continue to drink himself sick and no one would care. No one relied on him anymore. No one needed him, looked up to him. He was a nothing at this point.
Gilbert was shaking, gripping the counter with his empty hand. A wave of anger passed, causing him to smash the half empty beer bottle against the counter. The bottle shattered - and oh god, that noise. It made his head even worse- glass scraped and poked his skin, small cuts opening in his hand. Blood oozed onto the wet counter, the alcohol stinging his hand.
But, again, who cared?
No one. He'd probably fade, wouldn't he? Like Rome, Germania and all the others. Only spoken about in history books. Only known as a country where ancestors had come from. Only remembered as an empire that had crumbled away and torn into pieces.
He opened his mouth to give another curse, but resulted in being sick once again. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, his head aching even more.
'What are you doing to yourself?' His mind spoke. 'Gilbert, everyone would be so disappointed in you.'
And he replied, in a hoarse whisper, "There is no one to be disappointed in."
That was the truth, plain as day. He just knew all the other nations would shift into a happy post-war era, on the road to recovery. And what would he do? If he lived, he'd just remain here forever, watching the world prosper around him.
And if he faded away â€" which should happen soon, shouldn't it? â€" well, that was that. He'd die off and no one would pay any attention.
Another round of sickness passed â€" he wasn't sure why, though. Maybe it was from all this horrible, crushing realization. The fear of just going to sleep and never waking up.
Old Fritz. He'd be ashamed. So, so ashamed that Gilbert couldn't keep Prussia strong. That Gilbert let the country slip through his fingers and crumble into millions of little pieces.
Gilbert slipped back against the wall, leaning his head backward. Time slowly passed, and he could only focus on the clock. Minutes turned into hours, and he knew that he wouldn't fade away. If he were going to, Gilbert would be gone right now.
As much as he despised it, and really, he did, Gilbert hung his head and let out a painful, long awaited sob. For the rest of his life, his long, long life, he would forever be haunted by this day. The day Prussia dissolved.
The day he lost all his power.
The day he became nothing.
EDIT: Took out the swears so I wouldn't break any rules. Doesn't change the fic.
Even though I know nothing about Hetalia, I still felt like I could follow along perfectly! That was a very, very good one-shot (is it a one-shot?) I really liked all the intricate details that you focused on: the sweat on Gilbert's forehead, the development of his growing despair. Very good job.
Thank you! And yes, it's a one-shot. I'm too lazy for chapter fics. xD I loooove writing emotionally charged stories like this. You have NO idea.
Its rather good! Except did you look here? (http://www.ninsheetm.us/smf/index.php?topic=95.0) I don't think you did...
No swearing? Crud! DX Should I go and fix that or...?
Bit late now...I think that we should ah...turn a blind eye to this, but next time not be so nice
>_< It's one word.. I can fix that. I feel bad now.
It's very good. I used to watch Hetalia a bunch, but now...eh. Still, a very good piece of work.
:D Thanks!
Also, I figured about once a week I'll update this thread with a new fic. Sound good?
Cool!
Sounds good!
I'll update every Friday.
Fanfic Friday~
[Happy fanfic Friday! Here's the fic I wrote yesterday (or early this morning, I guess?). It's another Hetalia fic and it's the one I striving for a title. So enjoy!]
Every day, it was the same thing. His nails would rake into the hard cement of the wall, trying desperately to see the other side. The side he wished to be on, the side that everyone was yearning for. Freedom. Away from this horrid place. A pathetic excuse of a nation.
He hated the Soviet Union. He hated being restricted, being told what to do. He would live his life the way he wanted, because that's what he was told, and raised Ludwig on that same policy.
"It's always the same thing with Ivan," he continued clawing at the stone, leaving bloody streaks. Bah, that always happened. His fingers would bleed and tear. But what would that matter? If he could get back home, all the pain would be well worth it. "You can't escape! This is your home! It will always be your home!" One hand turned into a fist, banging against the wall.
The Berlin Wall. It made him sick to look at it. On the other side was his home! His and Ludwig's home! It's where he belonged. This place was no good for him.
And every night, it was the same thing was well. Ivan would drag him back, throw him into his room and hit him. Gilbert did nothing to fight against it. The more he took, the stronger it made his will to escape. Even if his fingers were worn raw, numbed with pain, it wouldn't matter at all. After all, Ludwig was worth it.
He missed his brother so much. Ludwig had tried so hard to keep him home. But no, of course, Ivan just had to have his sick little way. Gilbert laughed to himself one day on his way back to the wall. He must look like such a mess! Bruises littered all over his body, a black eye, and fingers stained crimson.
'I must look like a psychopath to these people.'
But he wasn't. Ivan was. Ivan was making him do this, tear and tear at the wall. No progress was ever made, and it was impossible for one person to tear through pure stone. But that didn't stop him. Nothing really would, Gilbert supposed. His love for his brother was too strong for trivial things like that to get in the way.
He faced the wall again, engulfed by its shadow. Looking at the marks all over his hands, he sighed, bringing his fingernails up to the wall yet again.
Sure, it stung.
But once he got to see Ludwig again, all of the pain would be worth it.
That made me wince...you know it's amazing writing that can provoke unpleasant images.
I really liked it, it's short length is misleading of all the cool story inside.
Just curious, what made you in wince in particular?
Absolutely great. I found myself clenching my teeth at the end XD
xD Haha, really? Why?
I'm not quite sure what it's about, but I liked it :)
"Nails raking against cement," "fingers bleed and tear"
Also winter if you don't know what APH is you'll never understand this.
^ Yeah, pretty much. Your historical knowledge only gets you so far with some of my Hetalia fics.
Quote from: SlowPokemon on July 29, 2011, 11:36:44 AM"Nails raking against cement," "fingers bleed and tear"
Also winter if you don't know what APH is you'll never understand this.
^this.
Too bad you used an acronym. Cause otherwise, I'd have an idea.
Not really xD
Axis Powers Hetalia
:<
It's Friday
...wow you guys like my writing that much?
Well, it is Friday, and night time! so it's very appropriate to post a creepypasta!
[This isn't my newest pasta, but it's an old favourite, so I rather post this one instead for this week. Enjoy!]
Nature is a delicate, fragile thing â€" something to be left alone, to let it handle itself. The ecosystems intertwine with each other, forming an image of beauty for many to withhold. The orange of the leaves during fall, icicles hanging from buildings during the winter… it's all just magical.
Yet, in the world, there are some people that have a more modern view on beauty. They appreciate nature, yes, but not in the correct sense. Instead, they tear into their forests, trees torn away for buildings. Cities and towns begin to replace the lush greenery. Habitants are forced to move.
The smell of smoke fills the air. The horizon is blocked by bright lights and buildings. Cars drown out the sounds of the Pidgey chirping in the morning.
And it is all so sickening.
The forest. They want to take it down. Not all of it, mind you, but they're going to take trees. My trees, the trees I am destined to protect. It is my territory and no one should be allowed to ruin it. Would the humans appreciate it if I ruined what was sacred to them? Would they appreciate it if I tore down their fancy buildings and took their powerful tools?
They are nothing without them. They know they aren't. Humans aren't powerful enough to fight off nature.
Natural disasters. Raging storms. Anything nature throws at them, they can't even manage to throw back.
As a guardian of Ilex forest, I intend to prove it.
--
It's depressing to see the trees cut down. They were once tall and gorgeous, with the sun peeking through their leaves. Now there's nothing… just stumps and splintered wood. Those damn humans keep coming back. Sooner or later, they won't have a forest to cut. Not if this keeps up.
A horrid smell â€" gasoline, is it? â€" filled the forest. Eyes widened in horror, I turned around to see a horrific sight.
The sound of a chainsaw roared through the forest, disturbing its tranquility as another innocent tree's life is brought to a halt. Woodchips and sawdust scatter about the grass, some even tainting the pools of water near it.
It's murder. Plain, disgusting, murder.
Murderers like them… they don't deserve to breath the fresh air we do.
And perhaps I should fix that.
The chainsaw roared to life again, ready to go for another tree. With a simple flick of a hand, it's in my control. His muscles, his body… it's all just a mere puppet under my whim.
Do you want to know what it feels like to lose something you care for? Something that's important to you? A friend, a dear part of your life?
Just like how a friend is important to another, the forest is important to me.
The chainsaw tore through flesh this time, his friend staring in horror as the flowers are painted crimson. He wants to stop, but then again, it's the same thing I feel when the forest is hurt. The body falls to the ground with a thump, the chainsaw dropped on the blood-soaked grass.
But instead of letting the other escape, he is simply torn to shreds as well. But it doesn't matter â€" it's a simple matter of letting the bodies rot. The putrid odor of gasoline is much viler.
-
For a few days, the forest remained undisturbed. The bodies were removed for the sake of their image ruining the beauty of the forest. The blood spattered flowers weren't a bother, though. It really was a lovely shade of crimson. And in nature, all colours are beautiful.
But as beautiful as nature is, there are still people stupid enough to go and destroy it. Of course they know two workers are missing. But apparently, that's not enough. If the workers decide to come back again, a message needs to be sent.
It's spring, the more gorgeous season. The flowers are in full bloom, and they're treading upon them. The chainsaws are back, ready to spread the vile odor of gasoline once again. They converse, setting two glass bottles down in the grass and are ready to murder once again.
And I will not let this happen again. The ground trembled, roots snarling around their wrists and ankles, throwing them into the trees. They continue to struggle, but are simply tied tighter until the bark is scraping into their backs, tearing the skin.
I'm going to make sure this stops. Humans will see how wrong they are. Humans will see that it is wrong to destroy nature.
-
The two workers were found outside the forest, covered in scratches. Jagged, deep scratches, obviously made from broken glass.
Once taken into the hospital and inspected, a single phrase was carved onto both of their torsos, the cuts still a brilliant red.
'I speak for the trees'
That was exhilarating!
Visualizing it in my head makes it a whole lot better and worse at the same time. Very good.
But LITTLE PARANOID BOY
^ HE CAN WAIT UNTIL NEXT WEEK
[ This is my all time favourite pasta. I never get tired of it - there's just something about the way I wrote it that makes me love it so much. Anyway, enjoy!]
Three years ago, much after Team Rocket broke apart, the rumored hauntings in Lavender Town came to a halt. No worries about Pokemon Tower, no Pokemon being killed, nothing of the sort.
Shortly after things were normal â€" well, as normal as that town could be â€" foreigners moved in. From another region named Johto, where different Pokemon roamed. Customs were different; there wasn't a town there to respect the deceased. Not even a memorial.
Quite rude, the people would call them. They talked about setting up a radio tower, to fit in, supposedly. But Lavender Town was so tiny, snuggly built into the side of a mountain. It wasn't very populated; why build a tower? Where would it be put?
Much to their disgust, the manager decided to tear down their tower. When asked, he claimed, "Oh, it was old and falling apart!" Or some nonsense similar to that, anyway.
Construction workers came in, tearing their beloved tower to pieces. Graves were moved to a smaller memorial home. It wasn't the same â€" cramped, crowded and awfully humid. No spirits would want to rest in here.
The tower finished its completion, much to everyone's dismay. DJs seemed to flood the town, moving into new houses and setting up their shows.
But we all knew this story, didn't we? Yet a few weeks after the radio tower finished its completion, the rumors picked up again.
They were more gruesome, more horrifying than last time. People said that DJs were found dead, wires tightly wrapped around red-stained throats. Rooms were left a mess, papers and records littering the carpeted floors.
With rumors come disbelievers. They scoffed, claiming that their town was known for silly stories. It was to scare people, to uphold the tradition of how "creepy" it really was. So what if one ghost appeared? It was three years ago. Not like it mattered anymore.
No one else took much of it. A few remained wary, keeping their eyes on the tower into the late hours of the night. They looked for anything odd â€" flickering lights, murmurs, whispers, any signs of angered spirits.
To some people's surprise, the rumors didn't stop. Due to the town's size, it spread like wildfire. Each one got more disgusting, the mental images burned into their minds. Some even leaked out into other towns, stopping all incoming trainers, who ended up taking another, longer way around Lavender Town.
More asphyxiation due to wires. Long, deep gashes caused by shattered glass. A few crushed under filing cabinets. Some rooms have the nasty odor of burnt flesh â€" somehow, electrocution has played a part as well.
DJs that are still alive claim of seeing odd things. Some have said loud, ear-splitting screeches have filtered through the headphones, nearly deafening a few. Rooms have gotten colder, with that horrid feeling of two eyes following you, wherever they went. Noises, faint hissing, had been heard as well.
But of course, the manager laughed everything off. Hauntings? What a joke â€" dead Pokemon can't do anything! So what if he destroyed a tower? The graves got moved. That made everyone happy, right?
His staff had diminished to the point where there's only a few left. Others have left, insanity taking over, fear of being killed by angered spirits.
For a while, things remained calm. Maybe the ghosts were satisfied? The people have heeded their warnings and visit the grave home every day, giving their respect and condolences to their trainers.
Weeks later, the tower was closed, caution tape covering every door and window.
The three remaining were found inside, dead, blood staining the walls and carpets. Believers give a smug grin, telling others that they knew it was inevitable. Spirits were never meant to be disturbed.
Disbelievers say otherwise, of course. They see nothing wrong, and say that it was just a dangerous tower, hastily built and lazy in construction.
And others just pass it off as another legend to be passed from generation to generation. Perhaps a tale to tell at night around the campfire or at sleepovers to scare their friends â€" whatever worked for them. Then there are people who do believe, warning others to not disturb the spirits anymore. Everyone believes a different story.
Whatever you believe, it's entirely up to you.
It is Lavender Town, after all.
meh
It's not that scary :/
That was awesome! Doesn't need to be scary for me to enjoy it. Well done Nebbles! :D
I enjoyed it :)
Definatly brings the creepiness back to Lavander Town ;) Well done
Oh, it doesn't have to super scary. >3> Just a touch of creepy.
Thanks for the comments! :D
Quote from: Nebbles on August 12, 2011, 03:51:02 PMConstruction workers came in, tearing their beloved tower to pieces. Graves were moved to a smaller memorial home. It wasn't the same – cramped, crowded and awfully humid.
I just wanted to post that this was probably the best part of the story.
"God damn jerks, this place is so humid."
"I'm more concerned with the disrespect they've shown us, but why do you care about the humidity? You're a ghost."
"It makes my aura all frizzy. Anyway, brb gona kil dem"
... Well, it was funnier when I thought about it in my mind, at least.
"It makes my aura all frizzy" omg XD
No that was definitely still funny Mashi xD
Quote from: Mashi on August 13, 2011, 08:41:20 AMI just wanted to post that this was probably the best part of the story.
"God damn jerks, this place is so humid."
"I'm more concerned with the disrespect they've shown us, but why do you care about the humidity? You're a ghost."
"It makes my aura all frizzy. Anyway, brb gona kil dem"
... Well, it was funnier when I thought about it in my mind, at least.
Lol you're so full of win
[I've decided as a little present, every once in a while between Fridays, I'll upload little drabbles! C: Since they aren't huge blown out fics, I think it'll be a nice read between every week.
So here's a little Distortion World related thing that I wrote~]
It had been long banished from the world, forced to reside in dark, cold isolation. It was only accompanied by barren, torn landscapes. Rocks were suspended in mid-air, light blue fog swirling all around this so-called home.
Such a long time it had been down here. It longed to be the regular world. Often, it’d try and desperately find its way out. But there was no escape - for the longest time, it sat in the shadows, waiting.
And for the first time in years, there was light. Giratina rose, seeing a bright, glowing light. It was being summoned - allowed back into the world. No more of this Hell it was banished to.
As the light grew brighter, the size of the portal increased, allowing Giratina to start climbing through. Its body was covered in pure shadow, black anti-matter splattering over the broken columns as it spread it wings wide. As it gave a mighty roar, the ground rumbled, pebbles and dust blowing in its wake.
Black clouds began swirling around the mountain, more of the anti-matter dropping off its body, sizzling and eating up any rock it had touched. More pillars and columns crumbled, some even rolling off to the ground below. Giratina curiously stared down at the ruin below it, red eyes focusing one human being only. The one that allowed the normal world and the underworld together - allowed this beast to break free from its Hell.
And Cyrus could only grin at the beast he had awakened.
Chilling. Makes me want to play Platinum again.
[This isn't super scary as a creepypasta, but it's definitely got some disturbing undertones if you read deep enough. Enjoy!]
You always wonder, what happens to lab rats, failed experiments? Are they left in a cell to rot, or killed off for the sake of its uselessness? Or do they try and try again, to make it better?
In science, or at least here, giving up is never an option. You keep trying and trying again, hoping for a better outcome. Anything to keep you from being a laughing stock. It's almost futile, but whatever works is practically the phrase they identify themselves with.
Maybe what you're doing is a little… odd. So what? The world they live is odd, isn't it? You could capture the most powerful Pokemon on earth and easily control it like a puppet. It'll obey you no matter what. It's a strange, strange world out there. And there are so many mysteries.
Mysteries that need to be solved, for the sake of knowledge. For the sake of knowing more of this world and all who inhabit it. Perhaps experiment after experiment isn't the right way, but they don't care. Pokemon have been man-made before. And, it's about discovery, right? Finding new Pokemon to fill up the Pokedex. More Pokemon to benefit trainers.
So, of course this practice isn't wrong.
"Subject X is another failure. Doesn't work right."
"W-why haven't we gotten it by now? We've made so many…"
"Yes, we have. There's room for improvement as always, no? Dispose of it."
A small whimper. "I-I…" They condoned harsh experiments, perhaps illegal ones, but not killing. How ironic of them. "Okay."
A shrill is heard, after much thumping and whining, there's silence as the failed experiment is tossed.
"Y and Z… if we run out of letters, what will we do?"
"Stop at Z. Whatever Z will be like, it'll be the best we can do."
Y was another failure. Perhaps it was closer to what they were looking for â€" but not enough. It was disposed of. The scientist frowned, wondering â€" what were they doing wrong? Why on earth couldn't they get this right?
'See this? Dubious Disc? Don't use it. It's corrupt beyond belief. It does wacky things to the computers. Burn it, throw it out, just… get rid of it.'
The curious person he was, the scientist didn't get rid of it. He kept it, thinking he could either fix it or use it for something else. It had to be pretty bad if Silph. Co didn't approve…
But, at the same time, it could be the very thing they needed.
"This should be perfect. Get me another Porygon."
It was sleek, shiny â€" odd looking eyes â€" but it was the best yet. It looked normal, just like another version of Porygon 2. It was going to surpass it, and be able to contact all sorts of life forms â€" and maybe even talk. A revolution! He had created a scientific revolution!
"Perfect! Just… perfect! We are done! No more!" It look so long to get here. Porygons A-Y were a bust â€" all mutated, weird versions of Porygon that would make them look bad. But this one â€" oh, trainers would just want to eat it up.
"Get the professor on the line! We've discovered a new Pokemon."
As the scientist turned his back to his subject, it began shaking erratically, its mind hearing nothing but static and glitched, warped speech.
Poor Porygons A-Y. :'(
Quote from: Nebbles on August 19, 2011, 10:18:13 AM[This isn't super scary as a creepypasta, but it's definitely got some disturbing undertones if you read deep enough. Enjoy!]
You always wonder, what happens to lab rats, failed experiments? Are they left in a cell to rot, or killed off for the sake of its uselessness? Or do they try and try again, to make it better?
In science, or at least here, giving up is never an option. You keep trying and trying again, hoping for a better outcome. Anything to keep you from being a laughing stock. It's almost futile, but whatever works is practically the phrase they identify themselves with.
Maybe what you're doing is a little… odd. So what? The world they live is odd, isn't it? You could capture the most powerful Pokemon on earth and easily control it like a puppet. It'll obey you no matter what. It's a strange, strange world out there. And there are so many mysteries.
Mysteries that need to be solved, for the sake of knowledge. For the sake of knowing more of this world and all who inhabit it. Perhaps experiment after experiment isn't the right way, but they don't care. Pokemon have been man-made before. And, it's about discovery, right? Finding new Pokemon to fill up the Pokedex. More Pokemon to benefit trainers.
So, of course this practice isn't wrong.
"Subject X is another failure. Doesn't work right."
"W-why haven't we gotten it by now? We've made so many…"
"Yes, we have. There's room for improvement as always, no? Dispose of it."
A small whimper. "I-I…" They condoned harsh experiments, perhaps illegal ones, but not killing. How ironic of them. "Okay."
A shrill is heard, after much thumping and whining, there's silence as the failed experiment is tossed.
"Y and Z… if we run out of letters, what will we do?"
"Stop at Z. Whatever Z will be like, it'll be the best we can do."
Y was another failure. Perhaps it was closer to what they were looking for â€" but not enough. It was disposed of. The scientist frowned, wondering â€" what were they doing wrong? Why on earth couldn't they get this right?
'See this? Dubious Disc? Don't use it. It's corrupt beyond belief. It does wacky things to the computers. Burn it, throw it out, just… get rid of it.'
The curious person he was, the scientist didn't get rid of it. He kept it, thinking he could either fix it or use it for something else. It had to be pretty bad if Silph. Co didn't approve…
But, at the same time, it could be the very thing they needed.
"This should be perfect. Get me another Porygon."
It was sleek, shiny â€" odd looking eyes â€" but it was the best yet. It looked normal, just like another version of Porygon 2. It was going to surpass it, and be able to contact all sorts of life forms â€" and maybe even talk. A revolution! He had created a scientific revolution!
"Perfect! Just… perfect! We are done! No more!" It look so long to get here. Porygons A-Y were a bust â€" all mutated, weird versions of Porygon that would make them look bad. But this one â€" oh, trainers would just want to eat it up.
"Get the professor on the line! We've discovered a new Pokemon."
As the scientist turned his back to his subject, it began shaking erratically, its mind hearing nothing but static and glitched, warped speech.
LOL I love this still. Makes me laugh at the explanation for the random Z in its name, and is pretty readable, easy to get through.
Haha, nice one!
I always imagined Porygon-Z to be an unauthorized patch to Porygon2, cranked out of some dubious laboratory, possibly funded by illegal activities. The patch was meant to make Porygon2 more powerful, altering its stats only, making it a powerful Pokémon to use in tournaments. It would look just like any normal Porygon2, nobody would suspect a thing. Everyone would just assume that it was well-trained. As a bonus, it could travel through the Distortion world, where normal Porygon2 would glitch as a result of clashing logic (for instance, trying to calculate gravity would lock the program into a paradox because the gravity in there is seriously messed up).
However, the project was cancelled. Perhaps the maker got bored, or he was having regrets, or something. It was copied to a disk and forgotten.
Then one day, somebody found it, copied it, and tried to integrate the disk's data with Porygon2's data, by converting them both to raw data through the use of a link machine. That's the way it was done with Porygon's up-grade disk, so it would sure work this time as well. The curious trainer only wanted a stronger Porygon2.
The result, however, was unexpected. One on hand, Porygon2 became stronger. On the other, it was warped. Its body parts would not assemble properly. The head insisted on being upside down, the program mistook legs for arms, and the tail was mostly ignored. Its eyes were just a static mess. Even the trainer's Pokédex couldn't read the Pokémon any more. It registered that it was a version of Porygon, but the last digit of the name (imprinted somewhere in the program) was warped and unreadable. Its internal reCAPTCHA test assumed that it was a Z, and put a hyphen in between to warn that this was just an assumption.
Luckily, the trainer was a honest one. The new version of Porygon2 was examined by doctors and professors, who concluded that the code was indeed working, if not working right. "Porygon-Z" was to be registered and put on the official lists. It was supposed to be named Porygon3 at first, but Silph. co denied to include this unathorized creation in their respected Porygon line, so the professors agreed to roll with the name the PokéDex had churned out. The trainer even insisted on keeping the hyphen.
And, it turned out to work perfectly in the Distortion world. The only downside was that it refused to obey the data commands used to control Porygon and Porygon2, pushing the project back to square one. It appears to some reseachers that Porygon-Z has no internal logic, that the code mutates and it sometimes make strange noises, but Pokémon keepers and breeders have managed to communicate with it, and say it's more emotional than its cousins.
And the original disk? It was copied and distributed in secret. Rumours say it's possible to obtain, if you know where to look. Porygon-Z remains legal in use and distribution, though the disk is not...
I thought that Porgon2 went into space (Which it was desigened for) met a space virus(Deoxys perhaps) which messed it up and the it evolved in Porygon-Z. As a result a tiny bit of Deoxys is inside Porygon-Z hence the high Sp. Atk and poor weaknesses. That's how I imagined it.
EDIT: Except that in no way would involve the Dubious Disk.
EDIT: Unless Deoxys created/inside a disk and then Porygon2 touched and evolved 8O
[It's Wednesday, and I have a drabble for you guys! ...well, A ficlet, but I'll be with friends on Friday so I'm trying to give a little more incase I totally forget to update on Friday.]
It'd been a long time since he'd stepped off the mountain. He was so used to hail pelting his bare skin, worn and hardened, used to the freezing temperatures. His breath always had fogged before his vision - not like he could see much past the snow. Yet, he knew, it'd be unwise to stay there forever.
Almost reluctantly, one foot moved forward, fresh snow crunching beneath his feet. He continued to walk down the icy, uneven side of the mountain. The snow shortly began to slow down, before nearly coming to complete halt. He'd reached the lower half of Mt. Silver. The snow on his body melted, spotting his clothes with droplets of water. Oh, well. He was used to that, wasn't he?
Home. It was odd to think of the word. Why return? He'd been gone for so long, steeling himself against the forces of nature to train. But what was there left to do? He'd beat almost any challengers who braved the climb. Any losses meant harder training, forcing to focus in even colder conditions. The warmth was almost welcoming. He really wasn't used to such weather.
Lone pieces of grass clung to his wet jeans, dirt staining the bottom of his shoes. He reached a stop as he approached the gate connecting here, Victory Road and the route connecting to Viridian.
Was he really ready to return home? He hadn't even spoken in years. Of course, the ability didn't vanish… he had just gone mute after isolating himself for so long. The bond between him and his team was close enough - so really, his Pokemon just knew what to do in battle. His opponents found it odd, but it's not like they ever tried to speak. Not much other then, "I'd like a battle, please."
Uttering a soft sigh, he pushed through the doors. The guard gave him a small smile, going over to open the gate that paved the way to Viridian.
"Ah, Red. Nice to see you again."
Red gave a slight nod in his direction. Viridian… it still looked the same. It held the same nostalgic sent. He even remembered it, even after all these years. That memory made him smile, almost. The journey he had…
He thought of visiting Blue, but who knew where he was now. Maybe he had returned home as well.
The Route 1 sign soon came into view. He rested his hand upon it, glancing forward, seeing Oak's lab far in the distance. Red smiled once again. His mother would be overjoyed to see him - everyone would be.
Maybe it was time to return home, after all.
Really awesome.
:o Red left Mt. Silver?
Quote from: Clanker37 on August 25, 2011, 12:31:57 AM:o Red left Mt. Silver?
SHOCKING ISN'T IT
But aaahhh I assumed he'd have to leave sometime unless he wants to die of hypothermia /rolls
[ IT'S FRIDAY, FRIDAY, GOTTA POST FANFICTION ON FRIDAY]
Dear diary,
Have you ever had the feeling… like that off feeling, that something isn't right? Like you have this odd feeling swimming in your head. Like someone's eyes are on you, 24/7.
But I must be imagining it, right? It could be just due to being tired. Long days.
It can't be anything serious. Yet, it seems colder in here. My room feels different â€" and… there's a faint ringing. I swear. I need to sleep.
Maybe tomorrow, things will be different.
Dear diary,
The noises won't stop. Streaks of light blur across my vision. I'm hearing things. My friends tell me I could be still imagining things. We did have a weird run in a few days ago, but it can't be that, right? It's not like I get shaken too easily…
They're all fine, though. Which confuses me. Nothing is wrong with them. I should be like them â€" fine, no issues.
I'd love to tell you more, but I can't write too easily without messing up. I'm shaking. It's freezing in here. I need to go to sleep.
Dear diary,
What is this
I can't sleep
The voices are even louder. It's gone from little whispers to cackling, shrieking laughter. I've turned around to see if anyone was behind me. But no one is there. So why am I hearing things? Why do I see unshaped masses at the corners of my room? Why do I feel like it's below freezing here?
Oh god I just reached for something and it moved by itself. By itself â€" with nothing â€" just out of thin air.
I want to sleep but I can't. I need to talk to someone. I need help.
Dear diary,
The therapist says that run in â€" the disturbance in that cave â€" has severely upset me. But I can't believe it's just that. I'm never scared this easily. I don't… believe that. I can't. Why would I let a scary thing ruin my life? Whatever this is, it has to go away soon, right?
There's small black figures dancing across the pages… but I can still write over them. It's like they want me to write. They enjoy it. They crave the paranoia spilled upon these pages.
Maybe this is all a dream. It's possible.
Right?
Riiight…?
Dear diary,
The words are moving across the page. The letters are switching places. I have to make sure everything looks okay before I start writing again. It's like everything is jumping out at me.
It's been five days since I've slept. I feel sick, I can hardly eat, and my skin is blue. It looks blue â€" maybe it isn't? Maybe it is? Maybe my mind is playing cruel tricks on me? The red marks on my arm pop out so much…
It's cold, too cold, and I know something is watching me. Eyes are drilling into the back of my head and scrutinizing â€" watching â€" seeing â€" every word I write. I hear light whispers, high-pitched laughter.
They're laughing at my fear. My mind is reeling, head pounding. I don't know what's wrong with me anymore.
I hate them. Those… things that did this. So cruel, so sadistic to find amusement in this
I don't know what to do anymore
I need help. Someone. Please. I think whatever they are, they want to kill me. The words are jumping out again at me â€" trying to bind me to the desk and suffocate me.
That was the last entry recorded. The police had scanned up and down the journal, frowning.
The handwriting had gone from neat to rushed, messy scripture and blotted ink on some of the pages. Pens were scattered among the desk. Other than that, the room was eerily neat and tidy.
They had been called in at the report of a neighbor's worry, hearing loud screams earlier this morning, then a large thump.
The boy had been dead. There were several scratch marks on his arm â€" some bloody, some just faint pink lines on his skin. Evidence pointed to severe head trauma â€" someone, or maybe himself, had bashed his head several times into a blunt object.
Upon asking his friends, they finally gave details on what happened that night.
The group had disturbed a small group of Mismagius and their children, and tried to capture them on the spot. His friends fled at the scene due to fear, yet the boy had stayed. And after further research, the pieces had come together.
Mismagius and Misdreavus were known to cause hallucinations. Known to make people hear high-pitched noises.
And that had driven the poor boy to his death.
I see you wrote that Mismagius and Misdreavus story ;)
Very good
[because I'm iffy on posting some hetalia fics here (nothing bad about them but idk) have another creepypasta >_> )
Have you ever wandered Eterna Forest at night? Maybe you have, maybe you haven't.
If not, have you ever wondered about the abandoned mansion, placed behind the myriad of wilted trees? No matter what the season, the trees always seem dead, bark black and twisted. The Old Chateau, it's called. The owners have supposedly vanished years ago, leaving the house behind.
Many would wonder â€" why build a house in such an outlandish place? Who'd want to live in a forest, considering Eterna City was so close?
A few brave trainers have ventured into the house. Everything is eerily in place. Plates and silverware are lined up perfectly on the table, all covered under a layer of dust. Books are lined up neat and orderly, spare the cobwebs in the corners.
Of course, what disturbs everyone is that the lights are always on. If the house is as old as people say it is, wouldn't the lights have burned out years ago? Even at night, faint lights shine from the window. If one listens hard enough, faint buzzing is heard as well. No one knows any more, as they leave as quickly as possible, much to scared to continue exploring.
The story surrounding the place… it's why no one goes anymore.
No one knows every detail. But they know enough not to go anywhere near it.
Story is that two ghosts live there. A young girl, and an old man. They are sometimes seen floating beyond the windows, staring into the forest. It's almost as if they're trapped; they can't leave. As if… something is holding them back, you could say.
Other than the standard Gastly floating around, another ghost type is said to live there.
It's always in some electronic device. It remains in the TV mostly, hoping someone would be foolish enough to enter the Old Chateau. Two people aren't enough, it thinks. It wants more people, friends â€" to scare, to cause enough havoc until insanity has driven them to death.
If your Pokedex or Poketch act up near the chateau, it is best to drop it and run.
If not, a zap of blue electricity might be the last thing you ever see.
So perhaps, maybe you won't wander the forest at night. After all, it's for your safety.
[ New creepypasta! I really love this one - it's a new style, but it turned out so interesting. I love the Ruins of Alph. I really do.]
It’s almost as if you stepped into a different world. The cool autumn air is gone, and you’re only left with stagnant, stale air. It’s breathable, but by no means pleasant. It’s not exactly warm in here either, and you’re wondering why the stiff air isn’t matching the indoor temperatures. But what are you to question this place? They’re ancient ruins, you tell yourself. Surrounded by an air of mystery. No one really knows what’s inside.
But that’s what makes it appealing to you. And with little hesitation â€" perhaps swallowing your fear â€" you continue to walk inside, the dim light from the opening already fading. And it’s fading a bit too quickly, you notice. It unsettles your stomach a bit, but you just ignore that.
It’s dead silent. Even your footsteps seem to melt away in here, not leaving an echo at all. And you wish so badly for there to be one. It’s uncomforting, the silence. It’s creeping up on you, threatening to swallow you up whole. But, no, that’s not possible. After enough exploring, really, you can just leave.
That is, if you can find an exit.
Your flashlight isn’t living up to expectations. It provides a path, but there’s another problem: the path looks the same, no matter how far you walk. The scenery is starting to look alike, as if it were rotating endlessly. It bothers you greatly â€" you’d like to leave here eventually, wouldn’t you? You’ve got things to do, a journey to complete, badges to earn. You’ve got little time to spend running in circles.
Your legs are starting to hurt a bit. The uneven surfaces of the ruins are starting to make you stumble around and trip. You keep a tight grip on your flashlight, almost terrified of losing it. Who knows what lies in the darkness? If your light source vanished, you could be lost for a very long time. Unless you’ve got a fire type with you, your luck is very short.
You need a break. Your legs feel as though they’re ready to give out. It’s gotten considerably warmer â€" uncomfortably so. A thin line of sweat coats your forehead, and you’d do anything for an ice cold glass of water. It sounds so pleasant â€" but sadly, the ruins have turned your water bottle into a nasty, lukewarm drink. It’s not really preferred, but it’s better than nothing.
You think to yourself â€" has anyone else really been down here? Maybe, but with a proper exploration team. You’re just a headstrong kid who dove into the ruins all by yourself. You’ve read about them, and heard stories about the residents of the bordering city. And oh, it was worth checking out, you said. You were so curious!
And curiosity kills the cat. You want to go home. You’re lost. The flashlight’s beginning to dim. And, you’re not sure if this is due to exhaustion â€" but you have the slightest hunch something is watching you. But how? Isn’t this place deserted? Who else would be here?
You remember that Pokemon inhabited this area a very long time ago. But… as said, that was ages ago. So that can’t be it. Right? They’re ancient. Written in books as history.
You sit for a while, contemplating on how to find an exit. Yet, you were just… so excited, you skipped past the Pokemon center. You can’t force them to help you. The gym battle wasn’t horrid, but they needed rest. And you regret it greatly. It might take hours, days to work through this place in the dark. You look upwards, hoping that shafts of light would make their way through the earth. But, things just aren’t in your favor. You’re underground, yes, but there aren’t any cracks through the dirt.
In frustration, you slam your hand on the wall. A shockwave of pain, brief as it was, makes your hand sting. You rub it silently, thankful there’s no blood. You’re not sure what you’ve got in supply of makeshift bandages, anyway. Other than socks and a few clean shirts, there’s nothing to stop any sort of blood.
You’re inactive for quite a bit, mulling over your options. You could try to retrace your footsteps. Try calling out â€" maybe a research team would come by. If desperate, reply on the help of your team. You hope the first option would work. With a sigh, you rise from your spot, hoping the last life of your flashlight can assist in the best way possible.
You’re trying to be hopeful. The same feeling â€" eyes are on you â€" returns, and in a much heavier sense than last time. It suddenly feels very cold, and you zip up your jacket fully, trying to bury your face in it. It was warm just a minute ago â€" and there was no way you could be near the entrance. Your stomach drops, a feeling of dread overcoming you. What on earth is causing this feeling? It’s empty. This place has to be empty.
You quicken your pace, despite your tired body telling you to not to. Your heart rate increases rapidly, your breathing coming out in short, quick pants. Something is after you. You don’t even know what, and your mind spits out every worst possibility it could. It does nothing to calm you. Your panic increases, and you trip over your own steps, the flashlight clattering to the ground and rolling out of sight.
Your eyes widen, panting, rubbing your injured knee. It’s bleeding now. Slightly, but the injury does nothing in your favor. With no light and now an injury, you’re really wondering how you’re going to get out of this place with ease.
With little options, you stay in place, patting your wound with a clean shirt. The stains will be questionable once back at the Pokemon center, but you’ll find an excuse, won’t you? Plenty of people must’ve gotten lost before. You can’t be the only one.
And suddenly, the silence is fading. You hold your breath, hearing shrill cries in the background. Not human cries â€" definitely not. Are they the Pokemon here? Were they friendly? Would they help you get out?
As your mind continues to wander, you don’t realize the creatures closing in on you. They tend to dislike disturbances â€" especially humans who cause such noise.
The last thing you see is a bright burst of light. And unfortunately for you, it doesn’t lead to the outdoors.
Unown Rape
I wrote about Giratina and the distortion world whoooo
It had been long banished from the world, forced to reside in dark, cold isolation. It was only accompanied by barren, torn landscapes. Rocks were suspended in mid air, with oddly shaped, dark trees protruding from the floating terrain. There was nothing but darkness.
Such a long time it had been down here. It longed to be the regular world. Often, it'd try and desperately find its way out. Yet to no avail. The dark blue fog continued endlessly, mocking Giratina.
You can't escape. Of course you can't escape. Arceus put you here. Why would you escape?
And for the first time in years, there was light.
It was unusual, seeing yellows filter through the blues, the fog dissipating. Curious. How curious. Giratina's wings stretched, rising up to the new source of interest.
Giratinas' body was able to slowly worm through the aperture, breaking free of its prison. A loud screech reverberated through the cold mountain air. Its body was covered in black, the ooze dripping off onto the stone, leaving stubborn, thick material. The columns began to bend and groan, unable to handle the force Giratina was giving.
The sky grew dark, the light gone again. Giratina gave another screech, piercing red eyes viewing the earth for the very first time in centuries. The humans backed away in awe - fear, perhaps - unable to comprehend the beast in front of them. Yet one human continued to stare, eyes locking with Giratina.
And Giratina leapt up, dragging the human into the hell that began to seep up into the earth.