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X-TREEEEEEME indifference.


The Truth behind stuff.

Posted by Janus , Oct 13 2012 · 304 views
Animal Crossing, City Folk and 2 more...
Becca and I have come to the conclusion that Animal Crossing: City Folk takes place within the Capitol.

Also that President Snow only became President because he wanted to be the mayor in Animal Crossing SO BADLY.



Posted by Janus , Oct 11 2012 · 765 views
Mass Effect, Glitch, Hilarious and 1 more...


Posted Image


One of the best things about Rob ...

Posted by Janus , Oct 03 2012 · 360 views
oops, silly rob and 2 more...
... is that he leaves himself logged in to his computer at all times, so I pretty much have free access to his account. :D

♥ you, Rob!

- HH

(honestly aside from this, all I really do with his account is fix his spelling and grammar, and edit his profile and then wait until 3 months later when he actually notices)


Why Rob could never be a video game critic

Posted by Janus , Oct 02 2012 · 786 views
Mass Effect, Video Games, Critic and 1 more...
Rob: I'ma boot up Mass Effect for the first time ever, but all I'ma do is make a character.
*Boots up Mass Effect and starts creating Commander Joan Shepard*
Rob: I am satisfied with this thing I do.
*Clicks on accept*
Rob: WHOA GAME STARTS RIGHT AWAY? Kind of a boring cutscene, though.
*First dialogue option comes up*
*Answers first two dialogue options, begins walking down the hall of the Normandy*


And I can handle way more danger than--

Posted by Janus , Jul 25 2012 · 593 views

Hey, watch out!

All we can do...is wait for my big brother to come and pffffffhahahaha I can't even finish that

[You’re not really good at this damsel in distress thing.]
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Consciousness 1.0

Posted by Janus , Apr 07 2009 · 365 views


I'm a terrible person who was terrible for updates last week. I know.

But I have ideas for this week, and PLEASE bug me if I don't update. I want to update on time and stuff.

Anyhow this is an idea that came to me sometime earlier this week...it's rough. Very rough, I'm not really that impressed with it--however the concept isn't complete.

Word count: 1,072


Consciousness 1.0

Code streamed across the many monitors that lay scattered across the small desk, the rapidly scrolling text dimly lighting the large room.

It was a vast expansive room, a high-topped ceiling with various chains hanging at differing lengths and a guide rail that surrounded the small recess where the screen--and the two men, were located.

It was this recess that the room appeared to be constructed around--though it could have been a warehouse at one point, it was now separated into many different recesses, all linked together by the sprawling network of railing that ran the length of the complex.

And it was in this small, dimly lit room, that two men worked tirelessly. Their backs hunched and their goggled faces averted from the streams of text that even now filled the screen--had they looked, they have seen the blinking lights that alternated between red for two pulses...and then switched to green.

However these two men were far to enrapt in their work to notice such things. Each had eyes only for the object that lay on the table before them.

At first glance it was a body...which would have made the two men a sort of twisted doctor...and in a way that was true. However once one looked past the rough humanoid shape, things would come to bare that revealed the true origin of the object.

It was large: about 6 feet long and a good 3 feet wide, but more than that it was heavy and...plastic.

While some exposed metal remained on its outline--which the two men worked furiously to cover, nearly the entire shape was coated in a smooth grey plastic that gave a vague human shape to the thing--all but its head. Where the face would be on a human there was nothing more than an ovaloid dome of tinted plastic.

There were faint lights beneath that darkened dome, and if the men were not so focused on the machine's knee joint, they would have noticed that these too pulsed in the same order as the computer. Holding a solid red for two pulses, and then switching to green.

A loud grinding sound caught their attention and the two men gasped as they rose from their work, glancing around to see where the discordant noise had come from.

"A bit of a shock, eh, Fred?" Said the shorter of the two, wiping the back of a black-gloved hand against his forehead and adjusting his goggles with the other.
"Yes indeed, Dominic" the taller said, running his fingers through his sandy hair.
"Jeese..." the one called Dominic spoke quietly, glancing in the direction of the machine's hand.
"Is it supposed to do that, Fred?" he said nervously.

The machine's digits shook almost violently as power coursed through the arm circuits; the fingers snatched and clawed at the empty air...before finally clenching into a cold metal fist. All this time the light patterns beneath the tinted 'skull' continued to pulse rapidly.

Fred watched this with a detached calmness, returning his tools to the workbench as he watched the machine's hand grope the air.
"Don't worry, Dominic." He said slowly "That thing is strapped down for a reason...still, I wonder why it's reacting so oddly..."

There was a loud shriek of metal as a door above the two men opened and a figure in a black business suit walked in, staring down at them from above.
"Gentlemen, I trust that your project is coming along well?" the man spoke smoothly, almost offhandedly, as he adjusted his tie.
"Yes sir." Dominic responded, removing his goggles and looking up at the man. "However there is a slight glitch, it seems"
"A glitch?" The man frowned, drawing out a small metal cylinder and pressing it to his temple. "That's not going to make my bosses happy."

Fred, face averted from the smooth-talking man on the catwalk, scowled at the attitude of the man's words. With a sigh he turned to face the man and spoke:
"Sir, if you'd like to come down here...perhaps you could see for yourself." In response the man simply raised an eyebrow, then, with an expression of interest he descended the staircase; the metal stairs clanging loudly with his every step.

"I must admit, I'm interested in seeing this glitch" the man said glibly, sidling up to the two scientists. Both Fred and Dominic chose not to spoke, instead indicating the still moving hand of the machine as it grasped the air.

The man, for his part, simply smiled.
"That's no glitch, gentlemen" he said with a wan smile. "That's exactly what we want." Fred and Dominic stared wordlessly, indicating for the man to go on.
"You see, gentlemen," the man began, watching the machine's hand endlessly clawing the air "You're not building a cyborg or an automaton. This is not an AI operated machine."

"I don't understand..." Fred muttered, removing his goggles to better see the man. The man pointed in the direction of the various computer monitors that were scattered across the table, and to the code that still streamed across every one.
"That's not a computer program, per se." he said teasingly. "Rather it's the approximate digitization of one of our fallen comrades...a backup, if you will"
"So this is operating off a computer program based around a dead former employee?" Dominic asked, incredulously.

The man simply laughed, withdrawing the metal cylinder from his breast pocket.
"Not entirely. This cylinder is my backup...every one of us is assigned a backup. However that is old technology--not something that we would assign two top level scientists such as yourself." Both Fred and Dominic acknowledged the compliment, but still felt a shudder of dread run through them as the man spoke.

"No gentlemen, what you're creating is but the frame...the shell, if you will. And we all know that a shell is useless without a soul."
"You can't mean..." Fred began to speak, his eyes widening slightly.
"Oh yes. This is our first experiment in harnessing the spirit of a deceased person--to give them a new lease on life!"

Behind the men the monitors ceased their constant streams of code, now only two words blinked on the green, surrounded by the pulsing green lights.

The man glanced at this and smiled at the two scientists, laying a hand on each of their shoulders'
"Congratulations, gentlemen. It looks like it's a success."


I Wanna Be Sedated

Posted by Janus , Apr 01 2009 · 342 views


It is DONE.

And with this the summary of my time off last week is basically complete.

I was on various fun things that caused me to have dulled...everything.


Word count: 820


I wanna be sedated

Well, after all the fun I'd had not a day ago (See: The Joy of Painkillers for more information) I quickly figured out how to actually ingest a painkiller. Oh the fun.

It wasn't that bad, actually. In fact if I avoided biting into them then the disgusting taste was barely present. They went down just like any other vitamin.

However, as I got used to my little routine of swallowing a painkiller in the morning, a painkiller at lunch, and a painkiller later in the night...I was unaware of the fun that lurked for me in the future.

You see, I had conveniently forgotten about the prescription my dentist had written for me. Why? Because quite simply, he told me as he began to jot out the various pills I'd need to be taking:
"I'll write you a prescription for an antibiotic to help your gum heal, and I'll give you some Advil to help the pain. However I'll also give you a prescription for Tylenol threes. They have a sedative in them."

Now for those of you who actually know what I do. you will know this is the antithesis of what I need--for those of you who don't. You need to stalk me more effectively.

I kid, of course. I am a Martial Arts instructor--you can see how well that would match up with taking a sedative. The answer, in case you are wondering, is not at all.

And so I simply 'forgot' about my prescription. Or rather, I misinterpreted it. I believed rather foolishly that my dentist had written me two prescriptions--one for a painkiller WITH sedative and one for a painkiller WITHOUT sedative. I was dumb.

Unfortunately it was my very own dear mother who realized what a putz I was. She very quickly informed me of the fact that I had only one painkiller prescription and that I would have to take a sedative--what fun.

And so it was that one I came home and two pill bottles rested on top of the counter, almost innocent in their commonality. Of course they contained the things I really wasn't eager to be taking.

"This one is your antibiotic" My mother dearest explained, indicating the bottle with MASSIVE pills inside. I mean pills that were bigger than skittles. It was terrifying.
"You'll need to take these three times a day."


Then of course she picked up the second bottle and told me that it was my painkillers--and that while the Advil was good for me for quick pain (and indeed, the non liqui-gel stuff actually tasted kind of skittlely on the way down. Mmmm) the Tylenol is what I would need for big pain--so I'd best take it at lunch and allow the painkiller to run its course.

I complied.

Getting myself some food I downed the painkiller, it was easier to swallow than the antibiotic or the liqui-gel capsules before it. However I didn't really feel much different.

"Hum" I thought to myself "Perhaps it takes some time to take effect. After all, even the so-called fast acting advil took about ten-fifteen minutes to activate and dull my pain"

And so I waited.

And waited.

I mulled various thoughts in my head as I surfed the internet, waiting for my supposed sedative to take effect. I mean, the pain was dulled but that could have been after-effect from the advil I had taken that morning. Where was my sedation?

I frowned and continued to surf the internet listlessly.

Then, following a request from my father (and upon realizing that I needed to put my dirty dishes in the wash) I made my way to the kitchen.

Or rather, I attempted to.

You see, my legs appeared to be stuck fast to the ground, and in no apparent hurry to move elsewhere. However I being a Black Belt, knew how to force my way past such menial things and heaved myself from the chair.

To say that I did a nose dive isn't entirely accurate. I began to fall into a nose dive, however quick thinking avoided such a fate and I fell rather heavily into my chair with a
"Whuuuuuh" sound.

My father made a comment from the kitchen about my inherent wussiness to sedatives. I ignored him and attempted to stop my head from spinning.

To sum it all up, sedatives are not fun, but they're also not entirely what you expect.

Sedatives dull the senses and make you freaking TIRED. I would have gladly slept for HOURS with that dang thing in my system--so for those of you who have not yet experienced the so-called 'buzz' that these painkillers can give off...that's basically it.

You get really, really tired.

So basically you can get the same feeling from staying up really, really late.

Which I do anyhow.

I think I'll stick to that, sedatives suck.


The Joy Of Painkillers

Posted by Janus , Mar 31 2009 · 239 views
I am staff, Hear me roar


Late. I know.

My plan was actually to have this when I woke up this morning, y'know, a little early morning writing.

There was one flaw in that little plan--I didn't wake up this morning.


With luck I will have another up tonight, because I try not to suck.

This is based on a true story, and yes, it was revolting.

Word count: 819

Enjoy! (I sure did, eventually)

The Joy of Painkillers

Grey clouds rolled in... turning the previously blue sky overcast. I frowned but remained outside, safely under the cover of the large fabric awning above me.

In my right cheek there was still a pulsing pain, one that had almost driven met to tears less than ten minutes ago...but now I held what I hoped was my temporary cure.

I glanced back inside the dentist's office, waving curtly as I began to walk around the shopping complex--I didn't exactly want to stand outside their door the whole time. I mean, how dumb would that look?

And so I set off, walking without any real purpose. It had been years...and I do mean years, since I had set foot anywhere near here. Unfortunately for me, though the outer shell had barely changed, the innards of everything was completely different. It was a bit of a shock returning to a place of my childhood and finding--well, no childhood remaining.

All the while I was walking I could still feel the packages rustling around in my pocket. The dentist had given me four of the things, along with some prescriptions... I had hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but my tooth...or rather, my gum had decided otherwise. I felt the pain emanate from my cheek, felt the swollen gum pulse and spasm and though it stung I allowed myself to ride it through. Then, as soon as it was complete I immediately drew out my cell phone and called my ride--I had to wait about 35 minutes for pickup.

Oh the smile I had on my face. If smiles were upside down, and involved glaring...and looked more like you were angry.

And so my hopes were dashed, my hopes that I would be able to eat a lovely lunch with my delightful painkillers--that way I would avoid that disgusting little "Vitamin" taste, the one that clings to the back of your throat.

However I had come to a point where I could no longer make that allowance. I needed pain relief before I tore out my tooth manually.

With cold and clumsy fingers I reached for one of the packets, small and square and coloured in blue. The plastic rattled as I removed it from my pocket, and continued to crackle as I hastily tore it open. Inside were two blue capsules, oblong shapes with "ADVIL" stamped into the side.

They looked like a bizarre form of candy.

Following the instructions listed on the back I popped one into my mouth--and then my brain simply ceased working. I do not know what it was that compelled me to do this, friends, I do not know.

You see, somehow as soon as the capsule entered my mouth I chomped down. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.

The response was instantaneous: After an almost audible crack, the most vile fluid I have ever tasted flowed out across my mouth, coating my tongue and the inside of my mouth in a disgusting viscous film.

The taste was...indescribable. It was a cross between a large amount of pepper, and some unknowable thing. It was spicy and pungent, it was the most disgusting thing I have ever had the misfortune to taste.

I coughed once, twice, three times. Tears sprang to my eyes and my stomach churned as that vile liquid coated my mouth. All thoughts of walking around fled and I quickly made myself back to the dentist's office, getting there as quick as possible in order to prevent myself from losing the control I had over my churning stomach.

Of course, as is the way with the world, as soon as I entered the dentist's office both of the [u]two[/i] secretaries were busy with other people...just chatting. I didn't particularly feel like interrupting them, however and so I sat quietly in the corner with that sickening fluid burning my mouth.

Then I felt it, some sort of growth on my upper gum, it was semi-solid and stuck to my gums. I panicked. I knew that taking vitamins or painkillers or various other things the wrong way could cause problems, but swelling of this magnitude in one place? It seemed wrong.

And so it was. I prodded it with my tongue curiously and found not engorged flesh, but the slowly melting remains of my painkiller, stuck like glue to my mouth. I almost laughed.

And that's when it occurred to me that I could no longer feel the blossoms of pain that came from my tooth. Though it was the most sickening experience I'd ever had...though I had taken it wrong, though I'd had to suffer through a taste more horrible than I care to remember: It. Had. Worked.

I sat back in my seat, still tasting the vile fluid in my mouth and no longer caring. My tooth no longer hurt.




Posted by Janus , Mar 28 2009 · 515 views
General Crazy
A Swollen Wisdom Tooth!
Sounds uncomfortable, no, sounds like a lot of pain!

But here in our little town of White Rock, British Columbia
You might say every one of us has a swollen wisdom tooth...
But I'm only speaking metaphorically

It's not easy having a sensitive, bleeding mass of muscle in your mouth..
But, there it is!

White Rock is home to many strange dentists. A big swollen, puffy gum...you may wonder, how does he deal with it?

That, I can answer in one word: Painkillers!

Painkillers, Painkillers

Painkillers, painkillers

So, yeah. That's where I've been this week.

FOR SCIENCE! Returns Monday, with a story about...Painkillers!

If you know what the above tune is, I love you. If you know me and know specifically what the above tune is, I love you more. Like, tons.





The Truth

Posted by Janus , Mar 24 2009 · 664 views


Really not much to say, I've had stuff on my mind. Some of that came out in tonight's entry, some of it didn't.

Oh, play Cave Story.

Word Count: 991


The Truth

I'm writing this (though I am more than away it's no story) not so much for purposes of entertainment, so much as the purpose of expressing myself and allowing you to better know me.

I've always found that writers use their art to express who they are, and upon some self-reflection I found I needed something a little more...intensive, shall we say?

You see, for as long as I can recall people have found me an interesting individual, whether it was my writing, my viewpoints, my MOCs or Models--people have always found me someone who they enjoyed speaking with. Why?

I really couldn't tell you.

You see, the truth is...I'm not. I'm not an interesting individual, in fact this entire entry is dedicated to that very fact. It amazes me daily to know that I've inspired people and that people find me fascinating--because quite frankly I'm nothing more than anybody else. More particularly I'm more annoying than most.

I hide it, I've always been able to hide it remarkably well (and that has obviously served me in my life) however the fact remains, and seems to have eternally remained--I am but a boy with delusions of grandeur.

Truly it is infuriating.

You see, I write because I enjoy it. I truly do. There are all sorts of things that I have written, or drawn into concepts that nobody (and I do mean nobody) will never ever see. Why? Because I love writing and always have.

But then I get that little worm of a thought into my brain that little "I should post this" parasite that niggles into my thoughts...and shortly thereafter my will is reduced into...well, nothing. I almost always end up posting it, and then I watch, I wait. I act like a hawk slowly circling, ever circling its prey.

I wait and I wait and I wait for that first comment.

And then it comes! And my thoughts?

"Well, that was okay"

And then I return to my waiting, my watching. I await what I view as the inevitable second comment. Often I wait for quite some time...or I give up waiting as I realize that the comment isn't coming.

"But wait!" you cry,
"Isn't this entry supposed to be about you, and your delusions of Grandeur?"

Ah, patience gentle reader. It is.

This is not by any means a slandering of those who do not leave comments, I do not even know you, how could I possibly slander you?

No, this is more to say that I expect it. Why do I expect it? Because clearly I am superior, clearly I am quite an incredible person with amazing talent and surely everyone will realize it when I post this handwoven masterpiece of supreme amazingness!

Yes. I am that bloody arrogant.

This is what my mind whispers to me, day in and day out.

Now I do my best to counteract this pervasive influence, but one has only ask my friends...honestly -ask- them, and they will tell you.

I get defensive with my writing, I get catty and snarky and angry and bitter when people make comments on my writing--why? Is it because I believe in my craft and think that these comments are obviously out to insult?

Lord no. It's because deep in my mind all I can see is "How could they not like it? I mean, I did my best HOW AM I NOT THE BEST?" Arrogance at its finest.

When at last my inner egomaniac is subjected I am left with a feeling of melancholy and sadness, because I clearly cannot be the best. Clearly I am the worst, I am nothing and I am terrible.

While that was done out of sarcasm, that is truly the thoughts that play through my mind.

Really, I'd love for this not to be the truth. I'd love to just be able to say to people "Yes, I am that amazing." I'd love to be able to actually believe what people say about me and my work. But I've fought long and hard against allowing my ego to consume me, and I have to continue.

Because I am the most arrogant person you will ever meet. Though I am not proud of it, I look down on people who I do not even know--because they're 'wrong' and they clearly 'don't understand' and a litany of other ridiculously stupid excuses.

I have always believed, even from the youngest of ages that I was destined for something better, that somehow I above all others was superior, was the better of everyone else--how this happened, what with two older sisters who were all too quick to put me in my place, I will never understand--but regardless it did.

In fact, for as long as I can recall I've been having experiences that have simply cemented that twisted thought, the thought that I am in fact inherently superior to the rest of the planet. Some were paranormal in nature and some not--the common thread amongst them is very simple, in looking back I cannot honestly detach the true event from my embellishment. Because no matter what I must be the best.

I am a fool with delusions of grandeur. I think I am far better than I am.

This is not to say that I do not accept any of my talents. I am not here to say I am a terrible person and I should be reviled and suffer the slings and arrows of the world.

I'm saying don't always believe what you see. I'm an expert at maintaining a facade, I have been for a frighteningly long time.

And please, please, please feel free to call me on my arrogance. Do not allow me to insult you or your works in my tone or my actions.

That's really all I have to say. I just needed to get out the truth.


Let's Do The Time Warp Again!

Posted by Janus , Mar 21 2009 · 327 views




THIS STORY WOULD NOT END. I seriously tried. I tried, I wanted to end it around 1,000 words.


Read. Please read. AGH.


Word count: 3,017


Let's do the Time Warp again!

Blazing heat emanated all around the dry dunes of Po-Koro, and amidst this heat the Toa Nuva, brave heroes that they were, slogged onward. All about them there was only desolate desert, the only hope for some revitalizing shade being the distant canyons and mountains that ringed about the arid wasteland. It was towards those canyons that the Toa made their way, their eyes set grim and their weapons slung like weights across their backs.

Pohatu led them across the blazing sands, and he was the first to break the heavy silence that had fallen across the group.
“We really have to do this again?” He muttered grimly.
“Unfortunately” Tahu grunted, wiping a bead of moisture from his mask.
“Couldn’t we at least have the Matoran carry us? I mean, we are Toa!” Lewa chirped in
“Nuva” Kopaka added curtly
“What he said.” Onua began, always quick to ensure proper word usage amongst the Toa. “Well…that, and the fact that the Matoran are all living in Metru Nui, so there’s nobody here.”

“Oh Yeah” Pohatu and Lewa both chorused.
“As for why they didn’t put this thing down in Metru-Nui…” Gali murmured.
“Budget!” All the Toa yelled synonymously.

When at last they had made it to the inviting shade of one of the canyons the Toa allowed themselves to relax, depositing their weapons into one of the conveniently placed “Tool” storage bins. Then they all got ready for their least favourite experience. Before them, in the shadows of the canyon stood a newly erected Theatre, this time easily four times the size of the last.
“Think they’re compensating for something?” Lewa snickered upon seeing the massive tower.
“Yes.” Kopaka muttered, the rest of the Toa Nuva simply chose to ignore the two of them.
“Well, may as well just get this over with...” Tahu muttered, striding toward the massive stone structure.

Suddenly he halted mid-step and put up his fists, shouting “Toa! Get ready!” and each Toa in turn began powering up their elemental powers, temporarily devoid of their weapons.
“Stupid bins!” Lewa was heard to shout as he saw the danger that now faced the Toa…a danger that seemed rather…uninterested.
“Hmmm? Oh. Hello Toa.” Came a dark and gravelly voice
“Nuva” Onua corrected.
“Yes, yes. Toa Nuva. Whatever” The Master of Shadows said offhandedly, waving an armored hand.
“Makuta! Enemy of the Matoran and Toa everywhere, how dare you come to invade our former home!” Tahu shouted, raising a flaming fist toward the imposing figure.

Makuta frowned and checked what appeared to be a watch on his wrist. Then he looked nervously toward the sky, one of his heavily armored feet tapping the ground in an odd tattoo. He appeared to not even notice Tahu’s challenge.
“Um?” Pohatu responded, finding it very difficult to look imposing in the face of Makuta’s utter indifference.
“Makuta?” Gali questioned, allowing her elemental energy to fade and walking toward the armored colossus.
“Hmm? Oh, what do you want Toa?”
“Nuva.” Onua interjected helpfully.
“Whatever!” Makuta snapped.
“I trust that you are not here to deny us entry, or otherwise impede in our mission in any way?” The Toa of water said soothingly. The Master of Shadows simply sighed, his entire body slumping forward.
“Indeed no, Toa Nuva. I am not here to be your enemy…in fact I do believe we have both been called here for the same reason.”

Tahu’s eyes became wide.
“You can’t mean that you’re going to be in the storyline again! You’re so…so….”
“Dangerous? Menacing? Cruel? Wicked? Villainous?” Makuta inserted, hopefully.
“..Overdone.” Tahu finally finished.
“Yes. Well...” Makuta faltered and fell silent.
“Um…shall we head inside?” Lewa spoke, indicating the enormous building and its now-open doors.

Makuta said nothing and lumbered off toward the shadowed building, and after a choice
“Awwwwwwkward.” By Pohatu, the Toa set off behind him. They’d almost made it to the towering theatre when they heard a cheerful voice shout out:
“Master!” In response to this Makuta mumbled something vaguely threatening…but incomprehensible to the Toa. Luckily enough the cheerful voice was more than loud enough for everyone to hear.
“But master! This is just a temp-job! Something to help me get back on my feet, I’ll be back to scheming with you in no time!” Makuta simply growled at these words and stormed inside.

“Um, guys?” Lewa whispered “Isn’t that the guy who worked at the theatre last time?”
And indeed, the black Rau’d Matoran who had staffed the ticket booth previously was sitting atop a luxurious looking stool directly outside the doors of the new building.
“Oh. Hi, Toa.” He said with a nervous grin.
“Nuva.” Onua muttered.
“Right, right. Hi, Toa Nuva! Welcome to the theatre, how are you today?” The Matoran spoke incredibly rapidly, getting more and more flustered by the second.
“You work for Makuta?” Kopaka asked, his voice like ice.
“…Yes.” The Matoran replied truthfully, lowering his head in shame.
“What’s the pay like?” Kopaka said, after a moment of consideration.
“Well…I get to live!” The Matoran responded.
“Not worth it.” Pohatu said with a frown as he passed through the doors. The Matoran simply shrugged his shoulders.
“I also get to control Rahi and wear this totally awesome mask!”

The Toa Nuva gave no response, simply ignoring the diminutive Matoran and walking into the well-lit hallway of the theatre. They promptly blanched as they saw Makuta, Master of Shadows…attempting to hide behind a garbage can.
“Um?” Lewa said, dumbfounded.
“Makuta?” Gali said gently, holding her hand out to the massive figure.
“It’s light in here. I hate light” Makuta said simply. Then, with a strong blush evident on his mask he stood up and walked through the door into the theatre proper—leaving a large Makuta-sized hole in the wall. The Toa Nuva followed him wordlessly.

Once inside (and once the Black Rau’d Matoran had been summoned to fix the gaping hole in the wall) they quickly found seats…as far away from the Master of Shadows as was possible.

Unfortunately for all involved, they had all arrived horrendously early and had nothing to do to kill time. This of course led to conversation.
“So…Makuta…what brings you here?” Tahu managed to force out, maintaining a large, fake, smile on his face the entire time.
“Oh.” Makuta responded simply. “Apparently they’ve decided that one Makuta isn’t good enough, so it’s no-longer just my name, but the name of an entire SPECIES.”
“Ohgod” Lewa squeaked, hiding half of his mask behind the stone backing of another chair.
“Yes, that’s the response I would expect,” Makuta said haughtily. “however I simply don’t like it! One: It takes away from my individuality…after all, they’re all going to be just as powerful as I am!”
“Mata-Nui…” Onua whispered, before joining Lewa in cowering behind his chair.
“And Two: The only way they can get a sufficient amount of Makuta into the story is to make them canister sets! So there’s going to be six incredibly powerful Makuta (who aren’t me!) running around, while looking about as strong as you Toa!”
“…” Kopaka said nothing, simply choosing to duck out of sight at that time.

Thankfully, before any more Toa could be petrified, the speakers and screen activated and that horribly annoying voice once again assaulted the Toa’s ears.
“Well hey there Toa! (and Makuta)”
“Nuva” Onua popped up quickly, before retreating behind his seat.
“We’ve got a fabulous show for you tonight! In fact we’re going quite a bit ahead in this one, this is Circa 2008, the “Final Battle” we like to call it. It sounds really dramatic, don’t you think??”
“Desperate is more like it…” Tahu muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“Anyhow, without spoiling too much, it’s about The Toa Nuva’s face off with Makuta’s evil army of Makuta…wow that sounded confusing! Either way, it’s a desperate race for a Mask that none of you know about yet! And also there’s flying ships with tons of guns! Man are the kids going to love it!”
“Please, please, please tell me they’re kidding.” Gali murmured, all idealism lost.
“They weren’t kidding about chainsaws, why would they kid about this?” Onua muttered darkly, finally having returned to his seat.

“Oh, one more note!” the announcer said cheerfully, his face filling the screen. “Due to….the creative process taking longer than it should. We’re only going to be able to show you three of each team: Makuta and Toa Nuva. We’ll call you back when they’re all finished!” Almost immediately as he finished speaking, the Toa Nuva looked at each other and then began fervent prayers that they wouldn’t be one of the three shown.
“Anyhow, on with the show!” the announcer cried, and the screen faded to black as drums and guitar riffs kicked in.

The Toa Nuva were not so easily tricked this time, not even one of them moving an inch as the music played. The Master of Shadows, however, seemed helpless to the thrall of the music…Even playing Air Guitar at one point.
“Dude.” Was Lewa’s only response.

Suddenly the screen lit up and text scrolled rapidly, explaining that the song currently playing was “Gravity Hurts” and that while it would be available for download in 2008—all of those in the theatre could purchase an advance copy for only $19.95! The Toa simply stared. Makuta bought five.

The music continued to play, but now a short video was playing, showing figures flying through a dimly lit sky amidst massive stalagmites. When it ended (with the words BIONICLE 2008 – THE FINAL BATTLE) the true show began.

A bright orange and grey figure appeared helicopter through the area, holding up massive claws that split into propellers and aiming an incredibly large cannon. On his face there was some sort of blue bubble and….
“The Mask of time!?” Tahu gasped, incredulous.
“Pohatu Nuva – Adaptive Armor” The screen stated, explaining that his armaments consisted of a “Midak Skyblaster” Twin Propellers (that double as drills) and the Kakama Nuva.
“What.” Pohatu said dumbly, looking at the screen, then removing his mask and comparing the two with a quizzical look on his face.
“How is that not the Vahi?” Tahu grunted. “That is totally the Vahi.”
“I agree, Toa” Makuta responded, suddenly sitting right beside the rest of the Nuva.
“Why are you orange?” Gali asked.
“I….I don’t know!” was Pohatu’s only response.
“Could be worse?” Lewa chirped in helpfully.
“Mata-Nui…next!” Onua shouted.

The screen flashed with thunder as a sinister looking red and black creature flew down, its clawed feet landing on the rough stone beneath. It was a lanky looking thing, with large bladed wings and vicious looking swords in its hands. Its chest seemed to be a glowing, pulsing orb, and on its face was a brutal looking mask unlike the Toa had ever seen.
“Makuta Antroz” the screen explained. Listing his armaments as a “Tridax Pod” the Kanohi Jutlin, and poisonous fangs and claws.
Both Toa and Makuta alike stared, mouths agape.
“Scary mask.” Kopaka muttered, crossing his arms.
“Why are my soldiers anorexic?” Makuta said with a frown. “What’s wrong with having a villain with some meat on his bones?”
“There, there…” Gali said, patting Makuta on one of his massive shoulders.
“Anyone really afraid of running into this guy?” Tahu asked
“Nah!” The rest of the Toa responded. Makuta began to cry.
“Next!” Lewa cried.

The screen lightened considerably and a powerful thrumming noise could be heard as a grey and lime green figure streaked across the screen three times before gingerly landing. The figure was tall and imposing with a single jagged blade and large get engines strapped to his arms. On his face there was bright green Kanohi with jet-intakes in the sides.

“Lessovikk?” Gali murmured. “Oh wait, I’m not supposed to know who he is. Carry on!” she said quickly, ignoring the strange looks the rest of the theatre was giving her.
“Lewa Nuva – Adaptive Armor” The screen said, showing his equipment consist of a “Midak Skyblaster” the Air Saber, and of course the Miru Nuva.
“It’s not as ugly as my current one!” Lewa cried happily, looking at the mask.
“What is with those giant cannon things?” Onua muttered darkly.
“Why do you only have one sword?” Kopaka asked slowly.
“I’m not entirely sure. I’m also not sure where my WINGS are and why I have JETPACKS. But my mask is less ugly and that’s all I care about!” Lewa cried, looking about wildly.
“But it still looks nothing like your original Miru…or your Miru Nuva.” Pohatu said carefully.
“LESS. UGLY.” was Lewa’s only response. Tahu sighed.

Everything went dark and only a silhouette with piercing yellow eyes could be made out. Gradually as the light returned to the screen it could be seen that the figure was entirely black and silver, with cruel looking blades for hands and large batlike wings. Adorning its face was a vaguely skull-like Kanohi, and like the creature before it, its chest pulsed with an eerie orange light.
“Makuta Chirox” The screen listed, showing his accessories to be a “Tridax Pod” a pair of Hook Blades, and the Kanohi Shelek.

Makuta screamed. “Oh come on! You can see his ribs! Why are all of my soldiers so blasted skinny!?”
“You don’t feed them?” Pohatu said with a shrug.
“Of course I don’t!” Makuta trilled. “Do I look like a mother to you? But I do make sure that they eat four square meals a day—otherwise how can I expect them to kill you accursed Toa?”
“Fair enough point.” Kopaka said offhandedly.
“Still, those blades look pretty scary!” Gali said in a desperate bid to pull Makuta from his funk. Of course Onua didn’t exactly help matters when he finally spoke.
“…So far they look like I could break them in half. Without using my Pakari.”
in response Gali shot him a glare so venomous that even Maktua winced. Scrambling away from Gali Ground Zero, Pohatu shouted

Light flooded into the room as the screen displayed a dark grey and white warrior effortlessly cruising through the air. With a slight spin and a loop-de-loop the warrior landed, folding large wings behind his back. He was holding an enormous cannon like the Toa before him, but this time it was two-handed with a tiny blade peeking out from the front. His mask was entirely white and resembled a cross between the great Ruru and the Kanohi Akaku.

Kopaka looked up in abject horror, his mouth constantly moving but no words coming out. Then at last the inevitably happened and the words appeared.
“Kopaka Nuva – Adaptive Armor” showing his equipment to be a “Midak Skyblaster” a Blizzard Blade, and the (There was a howl of agony from the audience) Akaku Nuva.
“THEY GOT IT ON THE WRONG SIDE!” Kopaka shrieked, his normally cool exterior gone.
“I could live with the butterknife. I could even live with the lack of a shield…but HOW in the name of MATA-NUI did they get my SCOPE on the WRONG SIDE?” Throughout Kopaka’s entire outburst, Makuta stayed oddly silent…then began whistling and twiddling his thumbs. Kopaka whirled on the Master of Shadows, his eyes ablaze.
“This is your fault. Your entire existence will be agony so long as you live.” He said coolly, and then seated himself. The Toa simply sat there with stunned looks on their faces.
“All in favour of never ticking Kopaka off…ever?” Lewa said meekly. Both the Toa and Makuta alike raised their hands in utter silence.
“NEXT!” Kopaka growled, his eyes never leaving Makuta’s.

The screen flashed with lightning as a dark, bat-like shape prowled through the air, at last coming to rest upside down. From their vantage point the Toa could see that the figure was almost entirely dark blue and silver with a blunt, vicious looking mask and baleful eyes. They could also see that unlike the other Makuta before it, it was not humanoid: With large looks for hands and wings sprouting directly from its arms…not to mention diminutive feet and legs, it resembled nothing more than an enormous bat.

“Makuta Vamprah” the screen declared, explaining that his armaments consisted entirely of a “Tridax Pod” razor sharp wings and claws, and the Kanohi Avsa.

“Now my soldiers don’t even have legs?” Makuta said blankly, his eyes wide. “What had I done so wrong?”
“Try and conquer Mata-Nui and kill us, maybe?” Pohatu responded glibly, ignoring the vicious glare that Makuta sent his way. “It was just a thought” he said with a shrug.
“Maybe it helps him fly better” Gali said soothingly, gingerly patting the armored colossus’ arm.
“And that’s another thing!” Makuta said suddenly. “Why are there no girls in my army? I am an equal opportunity employer!”
“Yeah, we know.” Tahu said darkly. “We heard all about Roodaka, thanks.” At his words the entire room shuddered violently, remembering all the trouble that Roodaka had caused with her blatantly female form.
“I think even I could break this one in two” Lewa said cheerfully, glancing at the screen. Makuta gave out a wail.

“Well that’s all there is to show, folks. We hope you enjoyed this preview! Remember, these aren’t final—after all, the focus groups haven’t gotten their chance yet! We’ll call you back in a few months to show you the finalized versions—and the rest of the lineup for the FINAL BATTLE. DUHN DUHN DUHN DUUUUUUHN.”

The entire theatre blanched.
“Did he really just do that?” Pohatu asked, wincing.
“Yes, yes he did.” Gali responded with a sigh.
“Let us leave and never again return?” Onua questioned hopefully.
“Contract doesn’t allow it.” Makuta responded darkly, stalking out of the theatre.
“May next month never come…” Tahu said grimly.

Together the Toa and Makuta walked from the theatre, ignoring the shrill cries of the Black Rau’d Matoran and picking up their various weapons. They half-heartedly swore to defeat each other, but both sides could tell that their hearts weren’t in it. Everyone was too preoccupied with thinking of what horrors yet lay in store.

If they only knew…



Posted by Janus , Mar 21 2009 · 541 views


Late. I know. I'm a terrible person who has been busy and lazy lately. This story came to me last night before I went to bed and is probably better than what I'd had planned beforehand.

I hope to have a second story up today, and then both days missed will be made up for.


Word count: 1,040.



To say I was afraid of the dark wouldn’t too far from the truth, but I was never the darkness itself that frightened me so. Even the thought of things lurking in it did not perturb me. Instead, somehow, it was the thought of what wasn’t there that caused me such fright. The absence of light was the obvious fear, but my nights were filled with vague horrors of myself grasping blindly about in the blackest of night, reaching and groping for something that no longer existed.

And just to add on to those existing fears was the pervasive knowledge that there was no way to escape the darkness. No matter what it would come. Even the brightest of lights would eventually flicker and die—leaving me alone in the darkness, where things moved on their own and I vainly struggled to find what I would never be able to.

You can imagine, then, how I felt when I awoke to find myself in a brightly lit cell. The floor had deep recesses in between crisp white tiles and dotting the walls and high-anchored ceiling were powerful floodlights. It wasn’t a painful amount of light—all it really did was make me aware of just how large the holding area was.

I stood there, washed in the powerful lights that shone all over the room, and felt that prickle of fear. I could only identify one exit and it was magnetically locked. I knew that much.

“How are you this morning, Doctor?” came a slightly garbled female voice from the loudspeaker. Of course they were observing me.
“Quite well, and yourselves?” I managed to get out with only the slightest quaver in my voice.
“We’re quite eager, Doctor. You were doing some truly fascinating work on light deprivation…” I heard snickers in the background, her comrades no doubt. I heard papers being flipped over…those cretins were looking through my work! For an instant my fear was forgotten as rage took over—First these insignificant snots hold my staff and I at gunpoint and forcefully take over our lab—and now they’re stealing my research?

“I’m especially interested in this one, Doctor” Came the female voice again.
“And which one would that be?” I bit my tongue, holding back a choice name.
“The theory that the human brain can be so very disturbed by darkness that it can seem like objects are moving. I’m most eager to test this.” I could hear venom dripping from her voice—I only hoped that my other staff were managing to escape torment like this.

“And how do you suggest you do that?” I asked meekly, disgusted with my own cowardice.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way.” As she spoke, the magnetically locked door snapped open and two men dragged in a large couch with some very lumpy pillows. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“I’ll let you get acquainted” She said maliciously, then the loudspeaker went dead.

I’m not ashamed to admit that the second the loudspeaker was turned off I let out a stream of venom and curses the likes of which I’d never uttered before…These impudent brats deserved every word of it. It was then, gasping with breath, that I moved to investigate the strange couch—and jumped back in shock and revulsion as the lumpy pillow began to thrash and convulse. Sickening though it looked, I swallowed my fear and moved forward…finally catching sight of a zipper. To say I was shocked and disgusted didn’t even come close, one of my staff was in that!

Angrily I grabbed the zipper and pulled it down, revealing a familiar form.
“…Martha?” I gasped out, seeing my wife before me—I hadn’t thought that these sickos would stoop so low! Martha for her part was silent, and it took me some time to discover that was because of a gag roughly stuffed into her mouth. Gently cradling her with one arm I undid the gag…just in time to see the lights go black.

“Fred!” I heard Martha cry, but to say that I was slightly frightened wouldn’t have been accurate. I was terrified, and in that terror it was all I could do not to hold Martha in a vice-grip.
“Shhh, hon,” I murmured, attempting to quell her fears…and with luck my own. “we’ll be fine, let’s just move to the door…maybe we can get out of here when they open it!” I spoke, sounding far more confident than I felt. Martha for her part, had always been a strong woman and giving my hand a tight squeeze she moved from the couch and to the tiled floor, with me not far behind.

About midway through the room (I estimated, it was impossible to see anything…or gauge distance in the thick darkness) I paused, frowning.
“What is it, Fred?” Martha whispered, sensing my reticence.
“The couch.” I muttered. “I just can’t figure out what the point of the couch is…surely they could have just dropped you on the floor?” Martha made a small noise of indignation at this, bringing a smile to my lips.
“If it’s bothering you that much, why not go investigate it?” She said softly. “I can make it to the door on my own, and then we’ll meet up, okay?”

Hesitantly I agreed and set off toward the direction I thought the couch was in. About twenty minutes later I became aware that I was hopelessly lost…but that didn’t make sense. Martha and I had moved in a straight line from the couch…and I had just reversed that…it should have been here…unless…
“Martha!” I cried, panic gripping at me. “Martha!”

There was no response. I searched the room for hours but it was exactly as I had expected…not just the couch, but Martha too…had vanished forever. Visions of my wife reaching blindly in the darkness came to me, I saw her fingers groping for something, anything before…before whatever it was that happened. I knew it couldn’t have been the door, because not only would I have heard the magnetic lock, but the light from the corridor would have been near blinding.

Though it defied all logic, my wife had simply vanished into the darkness…and I was left.



Genetic Emancipation

Posted by Janus , Mar 19 2009 · 255 views
Games & Stuff

It's been so many years...

Resenting the Years...and my Heredity.


The Masquerades

Posted by Janus , Mar 19 2009 · 581 views


I'll be perfectly honestly with all of you. I have no idea what this is, none whatsoever.

I mean, I attempted to add some measure of logic and sense, but my original plan went spiraling madly out of control.

For those of you wondering, my original plans were as follows

A: Family-type story wherein younger brother discovers older brother is in fact part of a rebel faction that has been tearing apart the community in which they live
B: A poem-type thing about said situation.

I'm not really sure what happened.

Word count: 753


The Masquerades

A Half mask was their mark, a harlequin painted strip of fabric—it wasn’t enough to cover their faces entirely, but apparently it was enough to strike fear into people’s hearts. Enough to get them what they wanted.

Who they were was a mystery to everyone, there was no statement, no public address…nothing. One day people simply awoke to find that their world had changed, to find that they were living amongst strangers.

They didn’t have a name, or a purpose seemingly. The fearful public simply referred to them as the Masquerades—perhaps due to the half-mask that they bore, perhaps due to their penchant for striking at crowded theatres. For their part, the gang didn’t seem to care what they were called, so long as they got what they wanted.

Of course that was the mystery…that was the thing that nobody could quite figure out. While it had been hundreds of years since crime of any sort had occurred in the city, they still had records; thousands of files that gave the raison d’etre for many different criminal syndicates. The Masquerades didn’t match any of them.

When offered money they simply sneered and laughed. In fact, none of the many different pleasures of the flesh—which had been the reason for many criminals in the past, seemed to appeal to them a whit. They only thing they seemed to take satisfaction in was the deconstruction of everything.

They had never killed anyone, never hurt a single person—but the destruction they caused was immense…having burned down several theatres in the span of weeks.

Their game plan was simple, really. They would enter the theatre sans mask and split up: From there all but one of them would begin working to siphon each of the theatre goers out of the building while the final member would ignite the building. The most peculiar part was that the Masquerades would not let their captives escape for some time, forcing them to watch the building burn. All the while they would remain silent and simply stare into the flames, half their face hidden by their masks.

It came as no surprise when the police force was resurrected to deal with the threat—what was shocking, however, was when the Masquerades simply showed up at the district, masks and all.

“We’d like to surrender” they said, raising their hands, half their faces still unknowable. The police standing guard outside of the building said nothing.
“It was an experiment, you see” The Masquerades explained as they came closer to the building. “To see where the social structure broke down. To see when we reverted to the system of enforcers” As they said this, each of them reached up his or her face and removed their mask. Girls and boys, whites and blacks, colours of every shade reached up and pulled the garishly painted strip of fabric from their faces.

Somehow it came as a surprise to everyone to see that these hated and reviled dangers to society, these menaces who hid half their face behind a mask…were not just children, but their children. To see daughters and sons in a line of what was thought to be enemies was a shock to the system of the city as a whole.

And then the Masquerades-no-longer turned to embrace their families, to show them that they were not the monsters that the media had made them to be.

A shot rang out, those who had been spared still shrunk back as though they’d been struck. Then gradually a circle formed around the young man in the centre who’d taken the blow. It was a clean shot, a killing shot. The former Masquerades turned their wrath upon the officer who had fired. No words were spoken, no blows were exchanged. The young officer crumpled to the ground.

“He…he was my brother” he sobbed.

It was later discovered that the young officer had fired simply due to the stress of the situation. It had not been a deliberate aimed shot, simply a misfire due to the overwhelming stress…a misfire that had taken his brother’s life.

And the Masquerades saw their experiment bear fruit. After the death of the young man, a newly revitalized police force was instigated—with an in-house police force to supervise them.

A single mistake compounded by the naiveté of youth saw the world again restructured as the enforcers grew stronger and stronger yet—until the criminals rebounded and everything returned to the beginning. The dance had begun anew.



Posted by Janus , Mar 18 2009 · 295 views


This story hurt my brain. It really seemed like a simple enough idea in theory--but actually putting it into reality? It feels like my brain was out walking in the wrong side of town and got strung up and beaten until at least two vertebrae shattered.

Yes, I am aware that brains do not have vertebrae. FIGURE OF SPEECH.

Word count: 115 (SUPAH SHORT)



Shyallright, thus heer iss atest. Wile et maight luk lyk rendam gybbersh, ets aktully en ettamt tu rite samthin antyrely en a korupt anglysh. Et maight halp tu reed et weth a slyt ecsent.

Ubvyusly et’s naut goang tu b es laung es mye uthar wehrks, semplay bikus these s difikult.

Oh god, my brain. Ow. Oh man it hurts.

Okay that was an attempt to write something entirely in corrupt English. Post your translations and we’ll see if anyone hit it properly.

I like experimenting, I’m crazy, and silly.

Maybe one of these days I’ll write something entirely in slang, or code. I dunno. It was fun in a brain shattering kind of way.



Posted by Janus , Mar 17 2009 · 308 views


You have no idea how long I have been trying to upload this blasted story.

I finished it at...oh, about 12:04 AM this morning, and found that BZP's server was dead. So instead of waiting and struggling for an hour (Oh wait, I did do that) I went to bed. I awoke and tried to post it again and found that while the FORUMS were operational, all BLOGS were dead. Oh, unending fury.

SO at last I managed to get this story uploaded and I am happy.

It's a thought I've had multiple times while flying, by the way. Inordinately creepy, but a common thought of mine nonetheless.

Word count: 1,491



People milled all around me, eyes averted and eyes focused down the end of the cavernous passage; beneath me the ‘fast track’ path ground slowly toward my eventual destination. I was in no hurry, instead I allowed myself to relax languidly against the moving track and simply let it take me to where I wanted to go.

Every once in a while people would pass me, their expressions varying from irritation to exhaustion—everyone in this place was in such a hurry it seemed. Pilots and stewardesses bustled in and out of crowds, security agents clothed in crisp white silently watched from their posts—or walked briskly to their destinations. And then of course there were the passengers: Throngs of people all desperate to get to their own destination and all more than willing to do whatever it took to get there. I gazed around at the sea of faces around me, noting the heavy looking carry-on bags that some people carried I rolled my eyes, clearly that’s why they looked so tired.

Now me? I wouldn’t ever be that silly. No, instead I always arrived with more than enough time to spare, I didn’t want to rush or bustle. I didn’t want to panic or exhaust myself searching around the labyrinthine airport.

I smiled as I arrived at the end of the moving track, hoisting my light bag over my shoulder and setting off at an easy pace. I kept my eyes up and focused, ignoring the thousands of people on either side of me—just as they ignored me. It was a mutual ignoring. However the important thing was that I kept my eyes open and I remained aware of where I was at all times, carefully studying the clean white signs placed around the bustling airport. Within a short matter of minutes I had arrived at my destination.

I entered the roughly circular room, taking note of all the various different exit gates in rapid succession. Then, as soon as I had ascertained the location of my gate, I allowed my gaze to drift higher and take in the gorgeous view afforded to me and my fellow passengers by the nearly 360 degree ceiling high glass walls.

It was truly a magnificent day outside—a perfect day for flying. The few clouds in the sky were white and fluffy, drifting leisurely through the sky. The sun was out in full force, its rays shining down on the tarmac and the aircraft assembled there, so bright was it that the luminous glare simply became a white blur in my eyes. It was almost painful to look at.

Blinking and shaking my head to clear the remainder of the brilliance from them, I carefully found myself a seat and sat down to wait. Then, almost as soon as I was seated, I removed a small book from my bag, a fiction I’d been attempting to finish for the past few weeks. I flipped through the pages until I found my landmark, but found that the glare from the sun was brighter than I expected. Even my book’s pages seemed much more brilliant than before, approaching a nearly white sheen.

I groaned internally and rubbed my eyes. Clearly I wasn’t going to be able to read any time soon. Instead I replaced the book in my bag and settled off to a light nap, leaning back in the seat and allowing the comfortable blackness of sleep to take me.

I awoke to the slightly reverberating twang of an airline employee on the intercom. I glanced tiredly at my watch, and then at the main desk for my gate.
“We will now begin general boarding for slight UA7643.” The young man said, indicating where exactly we should form our boarding line. I felt the slightest twinge of panic rise within me...I had completely slept through the pre-boarding! I could have missed my flight!

I felt the prickles of fear threatening to rise and overwhelm my sense and forced them back, lifting myself from the seat as I did so. Then, while I appealed to my logical side to drown out the irrational fear, I slowly slid into line, my face emotionless.

To say that the line went quickly would be somewhat of an overstatement. It didn’t exactly fly, nor did it crawl. It must moved along at its own leisurely pace—allowing me plenty of time to learn how best to avoid the bright beams of sunlight that threatened to turn my vision into nothing but a brilliant white expanse. In fact doing this helped to keep myself calm…to soothe the savage beast so-to-speak.

When at last it was my turn to hand in my passport and deal with the smiling young man I found that my fear had completely evaporated—in part due to my own management, and in part due to the fact that I was clearly going to be onboard the flight. I returned his smile and retrieved my passport, setting off down the boarding hallway.

Upon boarding the aircraft and double checking my boarding pass, I found myself fortunate enough to receive a window seat. A small smile briefly graced my face, and then I had seated myself and safely stowed my luggage. Shortly after I watched vacantly as the stewardesses went through the usual show and dance about aircraft safety—however it was at this time that I realized what good fortune I really had. Not only was I lucky enough to receive a window seat—but a window seat with nobody else in the adjoining seats! I was all by myself in an entire row of seats. How wonderful.

The flight passed without even the slightest bit of interference—not even a pocket of turbulence disturbed the aircraft as it made its way through the skies. In fact the flight was as close to perfect as it could have ever been, from my comfortable row I saw mountains and rivers, lakes and cities, great plains of green and jagged peaks of ice. I saw gorgeous scenes stretch below me and I drank in every minute of it.

However as is the way of the world, all good things must come to an end. The announcement came on the loudspeakers that we would be landing shortly and the craft began its gradual decline. I turned away from the window and leaned my head on the hard plastic that made up its surroundings. I had just begun to relax when I heard something strange. Sort of a “zzzt!” sound, like what we all imagine an electric shock sounds like. Opening my eyes slowly I looked around the craft and found that everything had gone dark, the lights, the TV screens—everything. All that was lighting the claustrophobic craft was the brilliant white light shining in through the windows. I paused with a frown. White light? Surely the sun couldn’t be that bright?

Glancing out the window I found that we were submerging through the cloud cover, meaning that the only light that entered the airplane was nearly white. I made a face and turned back to glance around the cabin just in time to see the entire thing blink rapidly, flipping from total darkness to everything lit up and active multiple times.

Getting a headache I averted my gaze again, choosing to look out through the window. This time I could almost see the distant outline of the landscape through the clouds, almost like it was a drawing in sand—the details being washed away by the wind. It stayed there for but the briefest instant before a large cloud mass eclipsed it from view—and at the same time everything in the aircraft blinked off for the final time.

I paused in my chair, feeling that familiar panic welling up again. Then I felt it, the plane’s engines were thrumming just as mightily as ever but the plane wasn’t moving. Some how, in some way, the plane had simply frozen in the sky.

With a sick feeling of dread I again turned to my window and glanced outside. That cloud mass hadn’t passed—if anything its seemed stronger, brighter. There was nothing I could see outside the crowded cabin of the airplane, nothing but those clouds.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. Other passengers were beginning to feel the same feelings of dread that I had, but they hadn’t realized it entirely yet. There were rumblings moving throughout the people on the craft—talking about the strong cloud cover, and of course about the mysterious darkness that had invaded the vessel.

But nobody turned to their windows and really looked. Had they, they would have seen what I did.

They would have seen the infinte timeless expanse, they would have felt the sickening feeling of being trapped—as though in an enormous block of ice.

They would have seen what I saw: Nothing but endless white.


Flying High In The Sky

Posted by Janus , Mar 10 2009 · 193 views
General Crazy
I'm off to Las Vegas for crazy awesome ninja fights.

No FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 until next week.

Love you all <3



Posted by Janus , Mar 07 2009 · 257 views


This is just a concept I was toying with today, it's a bit interesting in my opinion but harder than I expected to develop.

Word count: 495



24 Hours after the world ended.

Oh yes, I know just how strange it seems to see those words…imagine how it feels to be scrawling them on this page. Then again, I seem to be assuming this page will even be found—or perhaps I’m simply trying to keep myself sane by inventing a new persona with which to interact. Well hello there possibly-non-existent-person-reading-this, would you like to be my friend?

You would? Smashing!

To say that the world ended unexpectedly would be…untruthful, all those wonderful theories about the universe imploding, or the underworld vomiting forth legions of unholy warriors, or even the sun exploding…all of them were proven false. Unfortunately that means that with the world ended there aren’t even any downed alien spacecraft to take refuge in—or alien overlords to pack us up and ship us away. All that remains is the desolation of a brutal war.

Oh yes, it was we that destroyed us—should that come as any surprise? How often have writers clamored about how our own hubris would destroy us all? Hmm, I can’t recall the exact number, but I do know that philosophers and others of note have put forth the claim that we were inevitably doomed to destroy all that we created—including ourselves.

And so we have. It almost seems banal when you think about it.

You might expect that I would feel some great sense of sorrow about all of this…I don’t know, after all we just met. However I am somewhat surprised to tell you that I do not, perhaps I’m simply not entirely sure that I’m the last human left alive...after all, doesn’t all good fiction have at least one small group of surviving humans? I half expect to wake up tomorrow and find either a group of mutants at the door, or have the entire ruin in which I am staying transformed into some sort of Mad Max’esque fortress.

I feel I must also say that a post apocalyptic world is simply not as interesting as it is portrayed in fiction. In fact it’s quite disappointing. There’s no mutants thus far, no foliage, and nothing prowling about in the ruined city—not even some vaguely disfigured brain-addled humans. Instead there is nothing but the wind blowing its lament over our infinite foolishness. It blows through the canyons that were once shopping malls, through the decimated city, even atop the now-poisoned water.

It really is sad in a way. Not just in that we were inevitably failures in our own destruction—after all, I survived…and others likely did as well. So not only is pathetic that with our last act as a species we were still cursed with failure. It’s also sad in that this is the end of the human race. Not some great and splendorous thing Not some monumental crash and epic destruction. No, instead it’s just an old man scrawling out our epilogue.

Don’t you think it’s sad, my friend?


And Mortals

Posted by Janus , Mar 06 2009 · 236 views


Gah, this took way too long and was way too forced at points.

But it's done. There, you have part two.

I'm going to curl up and die in a corner now (That means sleep, mmkay?)

Word count: 1,040


And Mortals

Sam and his new ‘companion’ arrived home, having decided that it would be best to retire for the day. Or rather, Sam felt compelled to leave the rapidly darkening park and without consciously willing it began to stand up and walk through the near-empty streets.
“Was that you?” He thought, wondering if his newfound compatriot would be able to hear him.
“Of course it was” Came the near instantaneous response. “It’s not particularly hard to control you, Sam. You’re just bits of flesh connected to muscle.”
Sam frowned but said nothing, instead concentrating on resisting his muscle impulses…just to see if he could resist the ‘God’s’ power.

His legs continued to pump mindlessly and his steps never missed a beat.
“Nice try” Came the dark humor of the voice. Sam bit his tongue in response, thinking about what he could possibly do—and the first thing he felt was to get information.
“At least give me a name to curse, then” he mused.
“I have none to give, mortal. I was given none” the voice responded. Sam’s face crinkled into a frown and his mind raced—in all of the reading he had done, he’d never heard of nameless Gods, in fact every God seemed to have a name and be at least semi-well known by the humans of the era.

“And why do you think that is, Sam?” The voice murmured questioningly. Sam paused.
“Because….Gods make themselves known to humans so that they might influence their world? Like you’re doing with me?”

Dark laughter echoed all around Sam’s head as the voice chuckled maliciously.
“No Sam, you’ve got it all backwards. Gods influence the world for only two reasons: To prolong their existence or to exact revenge.”
“…And which are you here for?” Sam asked, the question sounding tremulous even within his own mind.
“Neither.” The voice replied simply. “I’m here to benefit my parents.”

The voice fell silent for the rest of the walk, simply steering the body to where it wanted it to go. Sam, likewise, remained quiet and ceased his efforts to regain control of his body, simply attempting to stop his racing mind from overwhelming him.

At last they arrived at Sam’s home, and, upon entering promptly collapsed on the nearest chair. Though exhausted, Sam immediately felt a presence in his home and warily looked over—the child from the park was back.
“It seems my experiment was successful” the boy said in his rich, dark voice.
“You…left?” Sam asked hopefully.
“Not entirely.” The boy said with a smile. “I’m still there, I’ve simply allowed some of my essence out.”

Sam sighed.
“Tell me again about this, please. Explain it to me, after all if you’re going to be inhabiting my body it seems only fair.” The boy paused for a moment, averting his eyes downward. Then with a sudden movement he stared unblinkingly into Sam’s own eyes.
“Very well, mortal.” He softly growled. “It really is quite simple…the world of Gods is very different from the world of mortals—whereas everything here is bound in physical form, the world of Gods is unconstrained energy. Unfortunately that means that in order to access this realm we must also bind ourselves in physical form.” Sam nodded, his mind racing to keep up, but not wanting the boy to stop.
“However this binding gives us limited time and once said time has elapsed we’re immediately snapped back through into our own world—naturally the process is quite painful and some of our energy doesn’t make it back.”
“…And using me you won’t get snapped back?” Sam murmured, faltering slightly.
“I never said that” The boy said with a wide grin. “All I said is that using you I’m able to stay here longer—for all I know you could come to the world of Gods with me…”

Immediately Sam’s eyes lit up and his mind began to fill with imagery from the many books he’d read. Massive mountains and pillars of ornate stone, gorgeous scenery and Gods milling in and out of temples erected in their honor. He smiled.
“Not quite” The boy said flatly, interrupting Sam’s reverie.
“Not only is it not like that…they wouldn’t be particularly happy to see you”
“Why?” Sam said, perplexed. “I haven’t done anything to them.” The boy smirked.
“Not you personally, no. But Gods and mortals do not get along…very few Gods enjoy spending time with their creators.”
“Creators?” Sam said, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yes.” The boy said. “Legends, myths. The creation of Gods, the more belief the Gods get the more powerful they get—as their believers fall the less power they have and the more they fall from grace. You mortals are responsible for the creation and decay of every God.”

Sam fell silent for a moment, simply allowing everything that he had learned to sift through his brain. Naturally none of his reading had prepared him for anything even close to this.
“Then how do you have any power?” He finally asked, unsure.
“Because I was born while my parents were at the height of their power and in the front of worshippers minds…but shortly after the entire structure folded—far too early for any child to join the Myth.” The boy smiled slightly.
“But that means…”
“Yes, Sam. That means that I’m not constrained by you mortals. I don’t have to worry about your belief in me.”
“Then why are you here?” Sam asked, mystified. Who was this mysterious God and what did he want?
“I want what any child wants, I want to help my parents.” The boy smiled widely and vanished again, simply ceasing to be in Sam’s eyes. Then he again heard that insidious voice in his head.
“Gods of War, you see. So you’re going to help me out, Sam. Together we’re going to cause absolute mayhem…and when the streets run with blood then my parents will be revived. Sound like fun?” Sam said nothing, finding his jaw unable to move. He thought a variety of curses but almost nothing coherent, he was scared now.
“Like I said, Sam. You and I are going to be getting to know each other quite well. Now let’s hurry…we have plenty of work to do.”


Signifying Nothing

Posted by Janus , Mar 05 2009 · 275 views


First attempt at new title graphic, I dunno if I like it enough yet.

We'll find out.

You'll get part two of Gods another night, tonight I simply wasn't in the mood.

Word count: 167


Signifying Nothing

Sound and fury signifying nothing…that’s what this entire entry is about. I would have loved to write the second part of Gods—unfortunately when your mind is pre-occupied with other things it becomes most difficult to write to a satisfactory degree. (Or at least I find it hard to match my standards)

As such I will instead default to my backup—that being this: A bunch of hot air, a bunch of anger that will do nothing and change nothing.

Very little in this world infuriates me more than pointless discrimination—even discrimination is bad enough. However something has happened which I feel shows a clear example of this, and has even set me at the throats of my friends. Something of which I am not proud.

But to be honest, the rage has left my system and now I’m just feeling very, very drained. Exhausted, really.

So I’ll end this early and go to sleep, apologies for wasting your time.

I did say it signified nothing.

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