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steps-to-success-luxan-er · 6 years

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I’m posting this in case you all need some inspiration

Our civilization had finally reached its peak; our domain stretched nearly the entire length of the galaxy. Hundreds of civilizations pledged allegiance to our rule, and for that were pampered with our love and resources. Some did not comply, and they were punished for being unruly upstarts in our domain, and once we had shown them the error of their ways they accepted our ways and were loved and pampered as the rest.

It was toward the last part of the cycle of 420^M51, our scouts had found an irregularly large solar system. Only one planet had life upon it and what we found disturbed us greatly. It was a planet of evolved sapient apes, naked as they were, wrapped themselves in the skins and fabrics of the other life around them. They were suicidal, destructive, aggressive, deceitful; everything we were not. I had never known another species to kill one of it’s own, or even to take it’s own life, but these creatures did it all willingly. I learned a work while monitoring their world beyond what they called the Kuiper belt, Genocide.

It had taken me many glanns to properly give the word a definition that I could comprehend, and when I did I wish I hadn’t. The utter annihilation of a group that was not your own,every adult, child, every bit of it’s culture, is what it meant. To do so not only confounded me morally but even through an ecological standpoint would it not greatly change the environment and cause more species to go extinct? Truly no creature would be capable of such an act, but as I continued to monitor them, the more I realized they would not only willfully, but willingly, fanatically, dogmatically. I fear we have stumbled upon a species that fully deserved punishment for it’s ways.

I reported my findings back to the Council and they deliberated the fate of this race. This civilization so prone to civil war, our strategists assumed that we would be able to silently pick off many of their factions while the rest were at war with the others. It was simple, but we felt it should work. I had failed to gather how fast they were able to adapt and engineer,for by the time our ships arrived, they had not only gone to the moon and back, but they had learned to split the atom, and had already colonized the fourth planet and many of the moons of the fifth and sixth planets all within five of their generations!

Fortunately, all of their society was splintered, the planets had demanded their own sovereignty like the “nations” they had left back on earth, so there was not a single united group among them besides alliances different groups had against others. Our ships descended upon the moon of what they called Titan. Our delegates landed and forced the inhabitants to submit or else we would employ force to make them do so. Our translator caught a single word from the moon’s military leader; it simply said “Nuts.” We did not know what it meant, so another warning was sent. We intercepted an outgoing distress signal to the other colonies around it. I found it amusing, as the moon’s around Titan weren’t even in a non-aggression pact, no one would come to their aide.

Our sensors indicated that they were picking up multiple signals off our starboard side. Many signals indeed, hundreds of the colonial attack craft had been summoned from all across the system. The instant unification had our commander flabbergasted, we all had assumed their independence was one out of inherent genetics, not of circumstance. How horribly wrong we were. We found more communication flaring to and from all of the planets in their solar system, more warnings, more information, more united resolve. We began to calculate the total miniature empires and alliances they had, coupled with all of their individual armies and the technological might of each one. We soon realized we needed more ships.

What we thought was a simple policing action on a broken and faulted race such as these turned into an outright war against an entire solar system consisting of tens of billions of souls, all of whom would die before submitting to our divine rights as rulers of the galaxy. Our efforts soon shifted from social progress to keeping this tiny system at bay, they had already forced us out multiple times, and had taken many more of our systems around them. Their empire was growing, unknowingly, we had united them. All of their millennia of war and strife had trained them and bred them to this moment in history when all of their accumulated data would finally be taken out on some ignorant outsider, something they could completely focus their hate and resolve on. We did not realize what kind of mistake we had truly made until we received the last transmission we would ever get from them, “We know where your home is. No survivors, no prisoners, no mercy.” We were finished, because though their diplomatic branch had withered and fell; their martial branch never showed us respite.

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steps-to-success-luxan-er · 6 years

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I am very interested in this

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

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How to portray a power driven character.

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steps-to-success-luxan-er · 7 years

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Yay!! ^u^

Tweets From The Egos || Part 14

The egos congratulating Sean for 17 million subscribers

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steps-to-success-luxan-er · 7 years

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This was my birthday ^u^

happy friday the 13th

#wtf #confusion #boi #lol #funny #funny humor #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth

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steps-to-success-luxan-er · 7 years

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Steps To Success [chapter one]

Step One: Research

////------------////

It was a sunny day for autumn. The sun was out, warming the earth below it. Oddly enough, it was still chilly. People just chose to ignore it, like the jocks. Quinn looked up from his book, peering over at the sports-crazy students to see what it was they were doing that required them to be so loud. The shouts were coming from the football field; half of the school’s team were running up and down it trying to make a goal without throwing it.

Quinn sighed, brushing his blonde-green hair out of his face. “Idiots…”

Suddenly shouts of awe echoed through the air, and a loud ‘heads up’ met Quinn’s ears just a second too late before he was hit with a flying projectile. The blonde was lying on his back on the bleachers, a football next to him. Sitting up, he grabbed the football and tossed it up and down a few times.

“Yo!!” A loud voice shouted.

Quinn looked at the base of the bleachers to see a member of the team, possibly the person who threw the ball in the first place. “Hello,” Quinn said calmly.

The young man waved. “Can you pass me the ball?”

He tossed the football up and down in his hands once more. “It’s ‘may’.”

“What?”

“It’s ‘may’,” Quinn said, turning to look at jock, “‘Can’ indicates terms of ability while ‘may’ indicates a request.”

The confusion faded from the male’s face. “Ah, I get it now. So… May you pass me the ball?”

A smile formed on the blonde’s face. “Of course.”

He tossed it to the jock and turned to pick up his book. Quinn was about to leave, but he decided on a question that wouldn’t leave his mind so easily. “Excuse me,” he said, turning to look at the jock once more, “May I know your name?”

The jock nodded. “Yeah. I-I’m Blake. You?”

“Quinn.”

Confusion was once again painted on Blake’s face as Quinn walked away. He made his way off the bleachers quickly but was once again stopped, but not by the antics of his mind this time. “I’d like to treat you to coffee,” He heard Blake say.

The blonde turned around. “What?”

“I’d like to treat you to coffee. To say ‘sorry’ for hitting you in the face with a football.”

It didn’t even take Quinn ten seconds to contemplate his answer. “Okay… When?”

Blake tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought. “Tomorrow during lunch?”

Nodding his head, Quinn began to walk away again. “Alright.”

“How’re you going to find me?”

“I’ll figure it out!”

Quinn knew that he was confused. He did say he’d figure it out without the help of him. Quinn had his ways. It was the same way he figured so much out about the rest of the people on his list.

The blonde watched the football team continue their game as he walked away. This was place number seven. He had to find some other place to read. It was getting annoying having to move his spot every two weeks. Quinn was debating on whether or not he should just read at home again.

A gust of wind blew from the south, causing him to drop his book. It hit the ground with a soft thunk and opened to the page his bookmark was holding. Sighing, Quinn pushed his dyed hair out of his face and picked up the book. It was titled Home Security: Alarms, Sensors, and Systems. People found it odd as to why he read such pointless books. Others just thought he wanted to help the community and was researching such things for the benefit of the world.

Neither guesses are correct.

If he wanted to pull this off he needed to be prepared. If he wasn’t prepared he’d end up six feet under or in prison. This needed to work. He must be satisfied. It was aching. It had to be soon.

Calm down. Replay the scenarios in the case of failure.

1. Severe injury(s) - fracture of skull, ribs and extremities: depends on if subject is bigger in size or faster in names of speed; be sure to carry extra weapon when it’s time. Wear all necessary gear to prevent injuries, or at least severe ones.

2. Prison - prisons can be cruel and worse than any injuries sustained during operation; if not a prison then you’d go to a mental hospital. Be as careful as possible. You mustn't get caught.

3. Death - it has to come eventually, but not yet. Not when we’re so close. It can’t happen.

It can’t happen

iT cAn’T HaPpEn

Quinn sighed deeply. He had to calm down. Tucking the book under his arm, he began to walk towards the fountain in the town square. Though it was a busy place in the usually quiet town, it was tolerable in means of interruption. The teen pushed his way through the crowd of people, aiming for the fountain. People were bumping into him left and right, but somehow he made it to a bench in front of the town’s landmark.

Sitting down, he opened his book and began to read once more. His mind wandered to Blake. Quinn rested his head in his hands and stared at the ground below him. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Quinn pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. It was a list of names of people from the town. He took a pen out of his left pocket and wrote down the name ‘Blake Michaels’.

There was now seventeen names of the list. Seventeen people. Seventeen witnesses.

A grin broke out of his face. He began to chuckle silently. It was getting harder to suppress it. His chuckle got louder and louder; people began to stop what they were doing to look at him. Not that he minded. He wanted people to look at him. Quinn wanted people to notice him.

They would have to notice what he was doing if they wanted him to stop anyway.

The crowd around him began to dissipate, and Quinn started whispering to himself.

“Rachel ‘Axel’ Marks, sixteen years old, but she’s turning seventeen next month. Her father works at a local plumbing company and her mother is an editor for the town’s newspaper. Both of them work late.” He made a mental checklist of the names on the paper he held in his hand. Quinn made the check mark symbol with his hand as if he was done with that name for now.

“Delia Farmer, eighteen years old. Father died in a car accident four years ago, and her mother is now an alcoholic. Wastes their money on booze and drugs. Avoided arrest three times. Relies on sister for money when they run out. Doesn’t leave the house.”

He made a check mark with his hand again.

“Mikey Roland, turned seventeen last month. His mother and father work overseas; they entrusted him to their in-laws.Only the male works.”

Another check mark.

“Marsha and Tony Darling. Twins, fifteen years old. Parents are store owners. Only home on the weekends.”

And again.

He shouldn’t be doing this here. He shouldn’t be rehearsing the profiles of them in public. They could begin to crowd around him again. It would be annoying if someone decided to ask questions. It was already annoying having to explain himself to his parents when he arrives home late. Research was time-consuming, so he was usually out late.

As he walked down the road to his home, he continued with the list. He had done five, so he had thirteen left. He sighed and slowly breathed in the afternoon breeze. “Mark Sims, twenty-four years old. He just got out of college and is now looking for a job compatible with his degree in art. Parents live in Arizona.”

He mentally made the check mark. Quinn watched as two young men jogged past him, chatting indistinctly. Then he stopped walking and slowly looked back to the two that ran past him. “The one on the right…” He whispered. “Lane Ester turned twenty-three days ago. Moved out of his parents' house a month ago. Lives alone with a cat named Raque. Still in college, but online. Leaves the house every night at four and doesn’t return until nine.”

Quinn faced forward and continued to walk home. The leaves on the ground brushed at his feet every few seconds, but it didn’t bug him. “Katie Burkard, eighteen years old. She moved out of her parents' house four days ago. Finishing high school, no job, only goes out on weekends.”

Another mental check mark.

The teen arrived at his neighborhood and began to walk along the sidewalk towards his house. People and children walked by him every now and then, but said nothing, as if not acknowledging him. He decided to speak a little louder so they could hear him when he walked by. “Jasper Rachels, twenty-one years old. He lives with his grandmother, who is currently sick and bedridden. Leaves every Tuesday for groceries.”

A child walked past him, staring as Quinn walked away with a wide grin on his face. “Daniel Home, sixteen years old. Works at his family’s diner every afternoon, four to six. Only leaves on Sunday for church. Parent’s are only home the weekends.”

He arrived at the driveway of his house, petting a stray cat as it walked by. “Garrett and Jennifer Spencer, the female is forty-three and the male is forty-one. Lives with their son.” He walked into his house, making his voice quiet as his mother walked up the stairs. “They leave every Wednesday and Friday for work, other than that they’re always here.”

“Oh,” His mother said, slightly surprised. “Quinn, when did you get home?”

The teen sighed quietly then put on a fake smile. “I just got home, Mom. Where’s Dad? Is he not home yet?”

She shook her head, her blonde hair shaking as she did so. “He’ll be home soon, though. What would you like to eat? It’s your night to choose.”

For a moment, Quinn didn’t answer. He just stood in the doorway, thinking. “Hmm…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Do we have any Blue Crab?”

“I think so… I’ll check the freezer just in case, though.”

His mother walked into the kitchen, humming happily. Quinn watched, a glaring at her as she walked away. His phone rang suddenly; the song ‘Can I Get An Amen?’ blaring through the air. Checking the caller I.D., Quinn sighed. It was his father. “Hey, hey, Quinny!!” the man said, sounding quite happy that night, “Did ya just get home?”

The blonde pushed his blonde-green hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Where are you? Mom said you’d be late.”

“Jen said that, huh? She knows me pretty well. Yeah, I had to escort my boss home. Give me ten minutes, okay? I’m stuck in traffic right now.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Tell Jen I love her, alright?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“‘Kay, see ya in a bit, Quinny.”

“See you, Garrett.”

Quinn’s father chuckled. “Hey, it’s ‘dad’ to you!”

The teen chuckled as he hung up. His parents were on his list. Garrett and Jennifer Spencer; numbers eleven and twelve. They’d both be dead in a month. Before he could break into laughter, Quinn ran upstairs and into his bedroom. He sank to floor, sitting on his knees. His knuckles turned white, gripping his hair tightly.

He began to chuckle, his voice rising in volume every few seconds. He turned his head to get a good look at himself in the mirror he had beside his door. His blonde-green hair was messy, his face was red, and he looked as if he was on the brink of tears.

Not because he was sad, though.

He’s happy.

He’s amused.

All of this… is funny.

He felt like laughing. Laughing so hard that he cry. It was all too amusing. Thinking about what facial expression they’d all make when they found out they weren’t dreaming, his smile grew larger. He couldn’t wait. It was only a month away.

Quinn stared at himself in the mirror. “Harold Firm, fifteen years old. Parents travel often for work. They’re both currently in Texas for a business proposition, and they won’t be back until the sixth of November. Harold doesn’t leave unless he’s called by his older siblings, which is every Wednesday.”

He took off his jacket, shaking the dust and dirt off of it as he did so. “Jim Doland, nineteen years old. Lives in the dorm rooms of his college. Leaves every night and doesn’t return until ten at night. Has a parrot named Fir.”

Quinn stared at the pictures and notes taped onto his door and wall. Pictures and notes on every person on his list. There were bright red numbers on each picture. His blue eyes wandered over to the picture that had the number fifteen on it. “Erin Daniels, she’s seventeen years old. Lives with her aunt and uncle because her parents are currently in Brazil. Goes to the same high school as I do, different schedule. Doesn’t return home immediately. She visits a cafe that two blocks away from the school, stays for an hour and leaves.”

He had notes on what they did every day, where they went, what they ate, their hobbies, everything he could possibly think of. He’s interacted with all of them in some way, even if it’s brief and insignificant, it was still enough. “Antique Buil, twenty-four years old. She lives alone and is a news reporter for the local news station. Leaves every Wednesday, Thursday, and Monday.”

He was determined to succeed. His objective would not be disrupted. Quinn heard the garage door opening and saw the headlights of his father’s jeep from his window. He stared out the window, noticing the darkness that seemed to drape over the town perfectly. Suddenly a grin was plastered on his face. “Number 17…” His eyes wandered to the newest picture on his wall. “Blake Michaels, eighteen years old. Lives with his parents in a large apartment complex. Goes to the same high school as I do. Leaves home every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday for football games. Always has about three people over on the weekends until three in the afternoon. Unemployed.”

The teen took the list out of the pocket of his discarded jacket. All the names were in order.

“Quinn!! Dad’s home!!”

Quinn set the list down on his desk and slowly walked towards his bedroom door. The names on the list haunted him all night.

…

...

He loved it.

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