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3 yrs ago
3 yrs ago
I am also not like other girls. I am not a girl.
3 yrs ago
NEVER forgive. ALWAYS forget. Remain in a perpetual state of confusion and anger forever!
4 yrs ago
Honey is the best insect vomit I’ve had so far.
4 yrs ago
It's fucked up that there are 1000 Christmas songs but only one song about the boys being back in town.


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People on my junk mail list <3

@The Ghost Note
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Sierra Hilton

The incident at the campground was as terrible as it was unexpected. Sierra, for all of her skills and constant over-preparation, couldn't outrun a speeding bullet, or jump a skyscraper in a single bound. While she was many, she was undeniably human.

When the attack began, her first instinct had been to take cover. With this many super-powered people around, fireballs and explosions would undoubtedly follow suit. She wasn't looking to be turned inside out by someone's mind, and if statistics were anything to go by, friendly fire was going to be just as big of a threat as the assailants. When she felt the first of her collective suddenly sever from her consciousness, she realized then that she would have to run.

Most of her made it out, some dragging others. Some were saved. Some weren't. When Sierra looked at her hands now, all she could think about was the ringing her her ears and the blood and dirt that caked her hands afterwards. In the grand scheme of things, there was still a few of her on the mainland, and some of her at the school. There was almost no real threat to her. Her lives were many- meaningless even, on their own. Her peers only had one. She should have multiplied- ran into the battle to drag out the injured. So what if a few of her took a round? That would've been one more round that her classmates wouldn't have had to take.

Should've been, even.

But she didn't. Her survival instinct, or cowardice, took control.

Nobody blamed her- probably in part because she was so new and so many people didn't know what she was capable of, but she blamed herself. So here she was, few friends, no house to call her own. A few bullshit classes that she could do in her sleep these days, and nothing but time to wallow in her thoughts on what had transpired. She found herself at the library a lot. A few other copies of her went off to do their own thing- as she always willed, but they were just following orders and going through the motions, too. It was hard. It all felt so... exhausting.

At least her books had happy endings.

"I came to Pacific Royal because I needed help getting my abilities under control. They've helped me do that, and with the H.E.A.T. program, who knows? I can run into fires without getting hurt. I've interned at a few fire-rescue operations as part of my schooling. I'll never forget my first rescue- that little girl... she called me a super hero."

Her finger hovered above the right click on her mouse, and then hit the restart. She listed to the young man's words. Again. Again. Again. This young man had the ability to turn to stone and was using it to be a fire fighter. This interview was old now, having come out in the year of our lord, 2017, but there were dozens like it, in which PRCU interviewed previous students who were either at the tail end of or had completed their tenure at the school. This place did a lot of good. Both for her people and for the world. Yet here she was- running away from the call to action like a coward.

Sierra was about to click it again when the felt the floor beneath her shake some in time with footsteps, and then heard the groan of the chair next to her. She glanced over- then up. Her vision was obscured by an impossibly large fellow- whom had folded himself up rather comically to sit on the chair and be able to reach the computer. He was so big that his head, even while sitting, towered above her standing height by a good two feet. His frame blocked the view of anything behind him. Behind him, a long scaled tail thicker than her entire torso draped along the floor- curling around their seats like some sort of black and white anaconda. He was also out of uniform? Adjourned in a navy blue hoodie with the PRCU logo and grey sweat pants. His hood was up= but as she leaned forward to get a better look at her neighbor, there was an indistinguishable snout that peered out from under the hood. His eyes, each the size of baseballs, were focused on the screen. She must've been staring for too long, because when he blinked, they were looking at her.

She squeaked, and sat back in her chair, eyes forward. He had caught her red handed. She tried to focus on what was in front of her but the interviews seemed far less interesting now. She contemplated changing to a new video, but an enormous hand, well over a foot in diameter, waved in front of her screen. The claws- god, they had to be over four inches long. She meagerly turned her head, expecting that this was her end-

"Everything okay?"

His voice was so deep that she could feel it. She looked at him and he looked at her, his other hand having plucked out a comically tiny airpod that must've been hidden behind his hood. Surprisingly, his voice wasn't unfriendly. Just... neutral. She looked down at the keyboard and tried to find the words to answer. This was a person, and she was ogling him like an animal at the zoo.

"You smell stressed. I'm not bothering you, am I? I can sit somewhere else."

"No=no, you're fine. I'm just lost in thought." she answered, almost too quickly. Wait, smelled stressed? Just how did he know that?

"You're new, aren't you. Part of the recent class. Went camping right?"

Sierra didn't answer, her fingers instead gripping the table so hard that her knuckles turned white. She felt the weight of an enormous hand rest on her shoulder. She turned to look at the weight and briefly marveled at how gentle he was despite his size. He was warm, too. Despite looking reptilian, he was warm blooded. How did he know she was new?

"Yes. To all of that. How'd you know?"

"Everyone smells different." he said, moving his hand away from her shoulder. "I recognize everyone in this school by their smell. Well, almost everyone. I'm sorry that happened to you, that must've been awful."

"It was."

They fell silent now, neither quite knowing what to do or say to one another. It was his turn to seem uncomfortable now- realizing that he had touched a nerve. Way to ask a terror attack victim about the terror attack. Maybe he should start shooting off fireworks in a neighborhood with a lot of veterans. She was still looking at the table and he was lost. He was always bad with talking to people.

"Hey," he said, managing to her her attention. He offered her his hand. "My name is Henry."

She looked at his meteor-palms and then at him, and offered her own- a hand smaller than even one of his fingers, and shook as best she could. "Sierra. It's nice to meet you, Henry. What year are you?"

"American college sophomore equivalent. Hard to keep track of how this school does it." he said, crossing his arms. "House Ursus." he looked between her and the computer, and pulled his hoodie down to reveal a muscular, serpentine neck that was just as scaly as the rest of him was. He was certainly impossible to attribute to a person, and frankly looked only roughly human. Sierra wondered what that meant for him. He spoke up before she could go down that rabbit hole much more. "Big dreams?" he said, motioning to the graduate interview on her screen.

She laughed, a dry sad cackle. "A while ago I'd say yes. Now I'm not so sure."

He hummed, sensing the subject's sensitivity and changing the subject. "Know anything about Kafka?"

She perked up. Kafka was, in her opinion, the greatest short story author in history. Did his scent reveal the future or something? "Plenty, The Lady With The Little Dog is my favorite. Why?"

"I'm writing about him. HU 302, Studies in Literature. I've chosen 'The Metamorphosis'. I need some help."

"That's his most famous work. A bit basic, yeah?"

"Well, it's less about the piece itself and how it can be re-evaluated by a modern audience. The professor wants my thoughts on it. You can probably see why." Henry said, motioning to all of him with an awkward smile. Sierra stifled a laugh. "Didn't your professor just call you a roach? What do you even need my help with if it's so personal?"

Henry smiled back at her. All teeth, but she didn't feel scared of him anymore. He motioned for her to look at the table, and then placed his enormous hand on his keyboard. It clicked them- while he could 'type', these keyboards were made for people an order of magnitude smaller than him. He just needed a scribe. "Say no more. Scooch." she said, pushing the hulk of a man playfully. Henry swatted at her hands and eased himself over a foot or so, probably to avoid stressing the chair he was in any more than necessary. "Alright, from the top, Goji."

"You know, that could be an insult."

"Is being called humanities' savior really all that bad?"

"Of course not. I'm just half Japanese."

It didn't make what happened better. There was still tons and tons of emotional unpacking to do. Between her family and what happened at the campsite. But talking to someone about anything else made it feel easier now. Less overwhelming.

Less lonely.
My pheromones just drive people away (i have not bathed in 5 weeks)
A list appears before my very eyes.

I have seen the future.

Sierra Hilton

“It’s my dad. He thinks they’re cool, like Spike, but I like the longnecks.... Can you put it back? I’m sticky.”

"He never told his name so until he does, I'm going to call him 'Dominik'. Because he looks like a Dominik. I'm sorry if that offends you, 'Dominik'."

Sierra hummed in response. The Land Before Time was something she had missed the bus on, having been born in 2005. But she at least knew the reference. She also knew it was beloved by many and it was probably not the best idea to bring up Ducky. She wordlessly got up to return the plus to its original resting place. She handled it with care- it was someone else's after all, but the meaning behind it earned its 'handle with care'. She and her own dad used to have their own inside jokes and sentimental items. Her favorite, for a long time, had been an arrowhead that they had found together while hiking well over a decade ago. There was something about it that sparked a fascination with history- and hearing her father tell her so much about the tribes that used to inhabit the region and how many he had found stoked the flame that much more.

Her powers had developed not too long after that, and then her relationships with most people disintegrated. The arrowhead, along with other mementos, were left in a small box in her mother's house back in Montreal. It was better that way.

"I'm not sure what you mean." said another instance of Sierra, whom piped up from a few dozen feet away. It took her a moment to realize she was talking to Ariel. "He introduced himself just fine! Nice to meet you, Sticky."

It was a bad dad joke and she knew it, but she had a smile on her face and her tone was lighthearted. Sufficiently disarming, she hoped, that it wouldnt be misconstrued as a dig. She decided to lean into her twin's antics. She exchanged a brief look with her twin, who winked to her.


"My name is Sierra."
"My name is Sierra."

They both spoke as one, their voices pitch perfect with one another, and raised a hand to shake. The one in front of Lucas realizing her folly quickly and giggling as she lowered it, since he was, indeed, sticky. "It's nice to meet you. What- uh," her eyes dashed to her twin for support but found herself more focused on Ariel. No matter. "What brings you to this school?"

“Yeah. Used to go camping outside of LA as a kid. I mean the tents didn’t do that but it wasn’t bad. I’m sorry—Whoops. Sorry! I thought you were a hologram or something. So, what’s your name? I’m Coop... Nature’s napkin? That’s very hot of me, I know.”

"Camping in LA, huh? You look pretty good for being homeless." Sierra said, a wry smile breaking out across her face as Cooper patted her. "Don't sweat it, it's not the first time. Wouldn't be the last. Could be here all night if I told you all the... interesting responses I've gotten out of it."

Sierra leaned against the tree the young man used as a makeshift napkin, and raised her eyebrow at his antics. Better than her first time out at least- she managed to give herself a nasty rash after interacting with a certain plant that she shouldn't have been touching in the first place. As he extended his greasy, leafy hand, she envied how unabashedly 'himself' this boy was. Most of her life she had been trying to further herself just to pass the time in the day or to make herself seem better for others. Namely her family. Meanwhile this man shows up with a goofy smile and greasy hands and she's already sold? What she would give to have that kind of charisma.

Sierra looked down at his hand, and then up at him again. Time to be brave.

Sierra lifted one of her hands to her face and spat in her palm, and shook his. "Sierra." she said, leaning in without letting go. She looked at him intensely for a moment. Stormy gray, like distant rolling thunderous skies right after a good rain. "You have pretty eyes." she said simply, then took a bite of his pizza and leaned away, proud of herself. Inside, her heart was thumping against her chest even if she was managing to reign herself in. "Nice to meet you, Coop. What do you do? How'd you get here?"

@Lawful Newtral, @psych0pomp. @Nemaisare
Sierra Hilton

Generally speaking, the day went by both incredibly fast, and incredibly slow.

All days went by slowly for her though, it seemed. 86,400 seconds in the day ticking away, oftentimes she spent almost as much time trying to think of new things to do as she spent doing them. On December 31st, a leap second was incorporated into the atomic clock- 86,401 seconds that day to allow the world to calibrate as days got progressively longer at the mind numbingly fast rate of about two thousandths of a second per century. On this day, Sierra woke and dressed five of herself figuring that any more would be somewhat overkill for the day ahead of her. She felt her breath catch as she stood in the mirror realizing all at once that this was not her home any longer. It hadn't been for a while, really. Her mother and her father resented her. It was understandable, and they did their best to never show it, but she could see it in their eyes and the way they spoke to one another. It was always a favor to take her for the weekend or so. She was not wanted here much longer.

She ate, and packed at the same time. Alternating who was doing what. Her mind was abuzz with activity despite the time of day. It was 6AM now, and her mother was asleep. Sierra would not wake her, she didn't want to see her mother fake a goodbye. She, working as a unit to pack her cars, a lifted 2011 Jeep Wrangler and a 2009 Ford Explorer. After sliding into her seats, two in the Jeep and three in the Ford, she was wordlessly on her way British Columbia.

Quebec, despite its reputation as a French speaking state, actually gets its name from Algonquin. The original territory being 'Kebec', simply meaning where the river narrows. She found herself reading a good deal about the island beforehand. How it had been a mansion, and then developed into a school. How governing agencies got involved, then there was the H.E.A.T. recruiter. She couldn't say no to that- she was young, and this was an opportunity to make things better than they had been before. Better than she had it. Between her mother and her father, if it meant saving one more hyperhuman from that sort of environment... she didn't have to think long on it.

Quebec's state seal simply meant 'The Great Seal of Quebec". Most territories had a saying attributed to them. Her personal favorite was South Carolina's, which bore the Latin phrase "Dum spiro, spero,".

She breathed a shaky breath at that and diverted her eyes to the window. While I breathe, I hope.

The trip from Montreal to the Isle was uneventful, but Sierra was never entirely bored. She read, and listened, and watched. Books, movies, chess, she found a way to keep herself occupied while she drove. She couldn't imagine how people did this normally- she would go insane if she had to do this regularly. When she finally arrived, therein came the first of the complications. Most people her age had family that were much more involved in their lives than her. The adults had their own means of arranging transportation, but she had neither. Catching the ferry was the last step between Pacific Royal and the civilian world. For her it was quite the obstacle.

Sierra did what she did best- divide and conquer. Two of her would have to remain here on the mainland. The drivers were the natural choice. While it would limit their travel distance away from the island, at the end of the day she was going to a super school. Likely full of hot heads and people eager to earn their stripes. Secure or not, if something were to happen, she wanted a fail-safe. Someone to keep her updated on the events in the outside world and to protect herself in the event her population on the island was...

Sierra reigned herself in. Too many Batman comics. She needed someone to keep an eye on her vehicles and keep her other endeavors running. That was all. The school was safe. She would be okay. The goodbyes were non-existent. She didn't need to send off herself, and everyone knew their job well ahead of time. They had arranged lodging until they could find a more permanent place to live. The remaining dozen or so of her would now have to carry on the journey by boat.

When she finally arrived at the PRCU, Sierra did what she did best, which was divide and conquer. Four of her began the process of getting the keys to her dorm and unpacking while one her went to orientation. It came and went, with stragglers coming in here and there and scrambling to their seats. She did her best to focus on the speech. Power training, school, school teams for the yearly showboating starting with a hedge maze, don't bang on campus, but you can do that in the woods as long as you're back by 8.

A small smile graced her features at that. Her phone dinged. A group chat of fourteen or so numbers- all her. It was a few new T shirt designs. A vibrant pink men's medium with the caption of "THE HYPE FACTOR" with a stylized DNA strange, and another dictating "SIGMA MALE" with the sigma symbol. A few other messages rolled in of approval, some voicing concern. She felt her mind buzz with directions from various versions of her across campus. Another text now. 'Got access to the industrial washing machine and some extra uniforms. A dozen right?' 'It's a start. We'll work on it more later.'

By the time she made it to her dorm, it was already unpacked and organized the way she would have wanted it to be. She was on team Firebird, and would be taking part in the trials. Camping on the southern plateau, Dundas Island. How quaint. The preparations were immediate- one would be dispatched for the trials. The remaining would stay on campus.

When she arrived, she wasn't particularly interested in the others. Yet. She was much more interested in how they would present themselves to one another. Instead she set up a crude tarp to conceal herself from immediate view and laid out five changes of clothing. Then she got to work.

As one, the newly christened copies brought down the tarp and began constructing the tent. She was like a machine- the tent, the most complex of all camping equipment, the bane of all dads everywhere, was up within a minute. It helped that it was designed to erect on its own, but four people securing it in position at once shortened the process that much more. Satisfied with her progress, Sierra nodded to the other three clones, who dispersed to the others, offering help with the securing process.

"Need another set of hands?"

"I've got an extra hammer if you want help nailing it down."

"Ever been camping before?"

Three different approaches to three different people. Hopefully one of them would be either unfamiliar enough with camping or just generally friendly enough to accept conversation. Otherwise she'd simply send them off on that one other thing she had in mind- but she'd take care of that later if she could. The remaining Sierra moved forward and took a seat next to a tall, lanky young woman with a smattering of freckles who seemed nice, a pensive young man who seemed to have an affinity for a Stegosaurus plush, and young Afro-Canadian woman who seemed very curious about the young man's comment on burning things.

She briefly tossed around ideas of how to spark conversation, but the plush had her attention the most. Nobody asked anybody about their favorite dinosaur as an adult. Maybe she should start with that.

"Is Stegosaurus your favorite?" she offered, motioning to the plush. "There's more time between T. rex and Stegosaurus than there is between T. rex and us. Really threw me for a loop when I read that."
A list appears before my very eyes.

I have seen the future.
Y’all dont understand it was either Utility character or Harry Spotter, the boy who Lifted.

There was no in-between.
Well @Lord Wraith, I managed to bust the BBcode somewhere along this sheet. In either case, here's my submission.

It wasn't often that Dexter had the chance to really open up the throttle. Usually there were swerves in the road, or obstacles like people or vehicles or buildings or trees or whatever that made going fast as dangerous as it was exhilarating. He had elected to leave his car, lest he run the risk of drawing any more attention than necessary- it would be just his luck that some cop with nothing to do would drive past the access road and elect to either investigate or tow. Neither of which were particularly appealing. So he had decided to walk.

There was no where in town that Dexter couldn't make it to in half an hour or so, in theory. That was assuming he was staying within the town though. Here it was an open, straight road. So now he was running. It was so rare that he got to do that. Even the track field turned too much for comfort. It stressed his ankles and hurt his legs afterwards when he took those turns at speed. Here he was firing on all cylinders. In the few times he had visited the CoL gym run by the Ted and Cotton pair, they had clocked his maximum speed on the vehicle treadmill at a little over three hundred kilometers an hour in a full sprint, but that had been limiting. Between the dangers of being indoors at that speed and the fact that he was limited to a small treadmill, he couldn't totally gun it. When Dexter hit his stride, he traveled as far as he was fast. Passing two hundred miles an hour, a single stride could carry him almost thirty feet. He couldn't turn or stop like that, so enclosed spaces or areas with obstacles became death sentences. His acceleration capabilities rapidly outpaced his braking power. Pun fully intended.

Fortunately it was a clear day, and he could see Helen's car with enough warning to hit the brakes without hurting himself or his shoes. That being- letting himself slow down naturally. Dexter finally came to a stop by Doug and rested a hand on it to steady himself and catch his breath. Like a car, stopping and going frequently taxed him a lot more than a sustained run, but he still wanted to take a moment to ensure he didnt gas himself out before the tunnel run. He checked his watch. Five minutes and fifteen seconds to get out here, two and a half of that being spent just getting out of town. 'I could've run faster.', he realized. He was getting faster. Dexter was clad in a simple work shirt with blue jeans and boots. Not at all the best running gear, but it would protect his feet and skin from whatever was in the water should he accidentally step in. He breathed, satisfied that he had caught up with himself, and approached the passenger window= which Helen rolled down so they could greet one another.

"Seems most of the group is here," he said, "Thanks for showing up. No way we're getting through that gate without Henry, though." he said, looking over to the access gate that had been dead bolted shut with a steel gate with bars two inches thick. Ramming it with the vehicle probably wouldnt even do the job.

"Over here!" the giant called from above them, emerging from the woodland on the other side of the road's hill, and easing himself down the hill's incline. Henry, like Dexter, had walked. Unlike Dexter his trip had been something akin to half an hour, although far less stress had been placed on obstacles and terrain. For lack of better wording, Henry was an all terrain vehicle. His shirt was about the only thing not mussed in some way. The bottoms of his pants were wet, likely from wading through a stream or two, and his feet were dirty. He hadn't even worn shoes, but then again he never did. The bottoms of his feet were as tough as Kevlar and three times the thickness. How he had navigated here through the woodland would be nothing short of a miracle to anyone else, but with his nose all he had to do was follow the scent of Helen's weed and sewage. Even if there were plenty of other places around that had one of those things, nowhere within his sensory range had both.

"Sorry for the wait." He said, knocking on the tail of the car with two light thuds. "I'm going to get to work, just come on through when everyone else is here."

The giant moved past the car, and gingerly slid down the cement incline to the floor of the access point. His leg had healed nicely, essentially good as new, but he wasn't quite willing to let it alone break his fall yet. He was too big, any uncontrolled fall could be bad. There were a few empty plastic bottles here and there, and some broken glass that was off on the other side, but not much else of note. He approached the gate and placed his hands between the bars, giving it a gentle shake to gauge the strength of the structure.

The whole entrance was protected by the gate but there was a door, about human sized, that was installed to allow easy entrance and access that was locked via a deadbolt and some sort of mechanical lock. It would be a lot easier to attack that weakness than it would be to try to tear the entire gate out of the structure- the rebar and steel was likely deeply embedded within the concrete and likely much stronger since it was protected from the elements. He repositioned, and lifted his foot to gauge distance, and when he was satisfied he delivered a swift shot to the door, approximately where the locking mechanism of the door was. The entire gate shuddered violently against his strength, the metal door warping into an aggressive concave and tearing the deadbolt out of the lock. The door was almost opened now, but with the deadbolt angled like this there was no way it could be opened unless he pried further. Fortunately, it was one piece of metal against two-thousand pounds of him.

Henry wrapped his hand around the deadbolt and half-curled, half-twisted the metal, which groaned under the immense stresses that it was never built to sustain. He grunted in exertion, but succeeded in tearing the deadbolt out of its bent metal lock. The door was fairly mangled now, half of its corner was scraping into the concrete. He huffed in frustration at this door's stubbornness, and delivered another, much angrier kick against it. The metal gate shook again, and the door finally relented as it was just about torn off its hinges and sent down the tunnel.

"It's open!" Henry called out. The sewer was accessible now. For better or for worse.
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