Safe For Work Worm Ideas thread

"'X' her into a quivering mess" ?

 

Oh, that's good. But it doesn't ring quite right. A little too explicit... maybe? I dunno, I am stuck on this part...

 

I meant more that there are more people over there, and they'll likely have plenty of ideas for such euphemisms.

How is a verb a spoiler?

 

Depends on the verb.

Bees, for example.

... In Worm, that *is* a verb.

 

If you recognized my username, read my story on SV and read the last sentence of the newest chapter it could spoil the ending. I'm currently writing the last chapter, sluggishly.

 

what?

 

Awoken Again​

---

I woke up on the floor of my bedroom feeling my body had twisted into an uncomfortable position when I had blacked out. I started moving my limbs comfortably as I thought about what had led up to this. I had been bleeding in my bed that was for sure. How my injures had transferred over from my dream into the real world I don't know. It probably had something to do with the fact that I had been able to feel pain in my dream and not wake up.

Next was the ritual. The activation of the star by using my blood that was drying out on my skin. When the eight pointed star had activated something had changed.

Or broke

When I used the star the screech in my head had returned only a hundred times worse than before. Funny thing is that I don't feel any bleeding right now which either meant I had run out of blood and was still alive, or that it had not damaged me like before. I had definately felt it though. Suddenly an immense pressure then utter darkness. Something in my mind had snapped, I just knew it. I didn't feel any worse for it though, so I was probably just imagining it, or, I just obtained a minor case of serious brain damage.

Eventually, I tried to stand only to be overcome with dizziness. While it seemed that standing was out of the question for now, sitting was within my capabilities. As I waited for the dizziness to pass I pondered on what had appeared to have been the world shattering. It had seemed like glass had suddenly manifested in front of me and the screech that had caused me such pain had caused it to be blasted apart. I am pretty sure that people do not black out like that as most describe it has being suddenly being plunged into darkness, never glass shatters then darkness. Perhaps when my dizziness clears I will investigate my drawing. After all it seemed to have caused this since I don’t remember any cape in Brockton Bay causing the effects of dreams on a person become reality, though I didn't take it off the table.

What is that noise?

It was sort of like humming. Not human humming though, more like when a blade in a movie came out of it's sheath. There was something alluring about it. Like a siren’s song was to sailors in some of the stories that Mom used to read to me. It seemed to be coming from on top of my desk. What was on my desk that made that noise? I could probably copy the sound by just getting a knife and running it off another knife though it wouldn't be as prolonged nor as unique. There was something about it that made the sound different

Finally, my dizziness was gone and I made another attempt at rising. This time I held onto my chair for support in case the dizziness stuck at me again. I settled into my chair and gazed upon the desk where I saw the source of the humming. A small knife floated above my star, rotating slowly. There was little decoration for it yet it was entrancing. Everything about it called to me. The black leather strip handle tightly bound together to help grip the knife yet sustain a sense of unity among the strips. The short silver blade as long as the handle glinting in the moonlight. There was a pentagram engraved into the base of the blade on both sides that seemed to pulse a little. Finally the song that the knife sung seemed to strike a cord within my soul as tears started to fall down my face.

This knife floating on my desk was now one of my most important possessions. The only thing that could amount to its importance now was my mother's flute. Nothing else but those two items of all my possessions could hold a candle to this knife and Mom's flute. If I had to choose between the two I am not sure I would be able to pick which I valued more. Slowly with my greatest care I reached out to grab a hold of my blade. As my fingers grasped around the handle I felt something of a connection with the blade. It was alive somehow. I am not sure how but it was. Yet while it was alive it also seemed to be an extension of myself. I was at least somewhat sure that if I got into a knife fight with another amateur knife fighter I would win nine times out of ten.

Turning around I was about to make my way to my bed until I saw the state that it was in. Blood covered the pillow that I had been using when I went to sleep. As I got closer I noticed that the blood didn't start to smell until I got much closer to my bed. The blood had started to crust over my pillow case and with the amount of blood there I would have to wash the pillow as well just to get rid of all of the blood, never mind getting the stain out. Turning the pillow over to the other side I started to hop back into bed when I realised that I was still holding onto my knife. Looking down at it I hesitated to turn around and put it back on my desk and not just because of my dizziness.

I'm sure it's fine.

With that decided I slipped in between the covers on my bed and prepared to get what little sleep I could get in before my Dad would come to wake me up. Most of the evidence of last night was hidden underneath my pillow and my new knife was in my hand so the only thing that could be worrying would be the eight sided star with some dry blood on it. If Dad asked about it I could just say that…

Knock knock

"Taylor it's time to get up." Already? Looks like I will just have to deal with this. Leaving my knife underneath my pillow with no blood under it I slowly rise back up from my bed. I start to head over to my dresser when the dizziness became to much. I felt faint and I wildly groped for my chair to hold on to for support. Unfortunately I was already falling when I got a hold of it and it fell with me crashing against the desk hard as I tumbled to the floor.

"Taylor!" I head Dad shout as he barged into my room. I hope he doesn't see the star. Dad had said that Mom used to be in some sort of occult club in high school with some other girls before heading to collage. If he saw it he would just be reminded of Mom and get quiet like he usually did when he was reminded of her.

"Taylor are you okay honey?" He had rolled me over to face him as he started to panic over me.

"I-I'm fine Dad." Even I would doubt that response if it came from a completely healthy man let alone me. Given the concern that persisted I knew that he also didn't believe it. Especially since I also looked like crap right now. Slowly Dad started to slide his hands underneath me and pick me up. I couldn't help my self from curling up a little while in his arms. He hadn't done this with me since before Mom died. It made me feel like I was a little girl again safe in her daddy's arms. Then it all ended as he laid me back on my bed and pulled up the covers over me.

"I'll call the school and tell them that you can't make it today. Then I'll get you some water and breakfast. Okay?"

"Okay." My voice was weak as I answered him and he left my room. Maybe it was a good idea to stay home. How productive would I be if I went to school like this. I wouldn't be able to focus on the lessons being taught. Instead I would be trying not to feint in the middle of class where Emma or Emma's new friend Sophia could get at my bag and maybe do something with it. They had started bullying me since the start of last month just as school was starting and it did not look like it would be letting up. It wasn't anything major just simple things like some passing words from Emma or Sophia purposely bumping into me in the hall but it wasn't to bad right now but I hoped that it would stop sooner rather than later.

"Hey kiddo. I brought you a pitcher of water and some aspirin." I look up and Dad is walking into my room with our largest jug of water and a full plate of leftovers from last night. Precariously balanced at the edges of the plates was a full glass of water and a bottle of what I assumed was the aspirin. He left for a second after only to bring back the home phone from downstairs up to my room and install it into the wall and placed it on my side table.

"I'm going to have to go to work soon so I brought up the phone in case there is any problems… If you start to feel light headed or faint again just take one of the pills. You should also drink lots of water to get rid of it permanently. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright… I love you Taylor." He gave me a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave. As he reached the door frame of my door he turned around and seemed about to say something when he stopped and then turned back around and left me to go to work. When he finally left I started to have my left over breakfast. It consisted of some rice, vegetables and chicken that I had made last night for our dinner.

I didn't leave my bed for most of the morning as I lay recovering by drinking water periodically and taking the aspirin before I had attempted to go back to sleep listening to the sweet lullaby that my knife sung underneath it's pillow. Though sooner or latter I had to get up. When Dad came back I would need to have the blood on my pillow cleaned up along with anything else that I had gotten blood on last night. As I got up once more the dizzying assaults did not come. It appeared as if my light handedness had come down to a manageable headache.

Stripping the bed of the sheets and taking my pillow I headed down stairs to the basement making sure to take my knife with me. As I placed my bed sheets and pillow case into the wash I noticed a bookshelf covered in what must be a half inch of dust. It was right were the junk had been in my dream. Cautiously I approached the shelf. Every shelf on it was filled with encyclopedias that took up every space on the shelf and kept the back from being seen. I was probably being paranoid because of the dream but, it wouldn't hurt to check. Making sure to turn on the washing machine before I started on my task I began to take down the books from the bookshelves until I could move the shelf itself. Gripping the side of the shelf I pulled at it's deceptively heavy weight to reveal the door.

Its, it’s the door from my dream. But that can't be right! My Mom wasn't some sort of witch! That’s, that's impossible.

Yet there it was sitting there ignorant of the knowledge of what it's presence was wreaking upon my psyche. Wasn't that nightmare just that, a nightmare? Or was it a long forgotten memory like I had thought it was originally. Perhaps this is just a abnormally large coal chute door, or some sort of supply cabinet and not some dark ritual room that mom used to do… things. Yeah, I just need to find out what this actually is. Then I can put this nonsense behind me for good and just forget about last night. Reaching for the doorknob I give it a jiggle and find that it is locked. I let out a breath that I had not realised I had been holding. Maybe I shouldn't try to find what is on the other side of this door. It must be important to have been locked up like this. There is probably some skeleton in there that I would be better off not knowing about. Something that would be different than the norm.

Like a ritual circle…

I stare at the door as if waiting for it to tell me it's secrets or to open and let me find out what is behind it. Though predictably it does not oblige either of this and sits there mocking my attempts at rationalising the situation.

Only one way to be sure.

Turning on a dime I head back up the stairs and make a beeline straight to Dad's room. The room is very barren and Spartan looking. The only pieces of furniture in there was his double bed that he had slept with Mom on when she was still alive, the dresser with a mirror on it that Dad had gotten Mom for her birthday one year, and a bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock on. Before Mom died there used to be more furniture in here. It seemed to represent Dad too well and maybe even me. After Mom died we were both stripped of something incredibly important from us. Where I had Emma back then he seemed to be going through it alone. Sure there was Kurt and Lacy but they weren't as close as I was with Emma before she turned her back on me and started bullying me.

Bending down I opened the bottom drawer where Dad kept some of Mom's old things. Most of them were old books that Mom had from collage like her "The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare" that she had annotated completely. Other items were family pictures that had her within them. Since her death Dad had taken all of these pictures off the walls and placed them here so that he could walk around the house and not remember Mom every time he looked up from his feet. Every once and a while I noticed that he just stared at one of the pictures and would talk to it like it was her. He would launch into conversations with the picture sometimes walking about talking which was highly reminiscent of one of the plays mother read to me once upon a time.

Drip…

I had started crying while looking at the pictures of Mom and the rest of us. It was happier back then and life made sense. Back when Mom was alive, when Dad didn't socially curl into himself when Mom came up in a conversation, back when Emma was my friend. Wiping my tears away I started on the task of finding the antique key from my dream. Dad would have kept it here if it was Mom's. The only other place it could be was in the small key cabinet. I found the key tucked within a book acting as a very thick bookmark inside of a black tome that looked almost just like mine. Deciding to take both, I shut the drawer. Best to keep Dad's shrine to Mom as clean as possible despite anything the dust in the room had to say about it.

When I returned back to the door and inserted the old key I hesitated to open the lock on the door. This would be my last chance to stop all of this. I could just turn around and leave. Forget everything here. I would never speak about the door and the dream. If I did I could keep my memories and possibly false image of her alive. After all they say that ignorance is bliss after, why would this be any different? I slowly turned the key until I felt that I could turn it no more. Moving my hand down towards the door knob while tightening my grip on my knife, I swung the door open with a loud squeal of the rusting hinges.

Like the dream, the stairs that were beyond the door were covered in an inky darkness.. Taking a cautious step onto the cobblestone stairs I descended into the sub basement, knife first into the dark. At the bottom, my fears were confirmed. There in the root walled room lay a glowing deep red pentagram. This one though was different. A a different rune here and a extra circle there but it was close enough that if my dream had not been so vivid I would have mistaken it for the exact same one. Other than the pentagram there was a lump in the middle. It lay there still as death not making a sound. From what little I could see it had hair all over skeletal form that made me look like Chubster. Taking a step forward I started to approach the lump in the circle.

"H-Hello?" I called out. Suddenly it perked up and twisted it's wild rotting straw like hair covered head towards me where it's pink eyes seemingly showed no intelligent thought. I started to take a step back when it began to rise to its feet on shaking legs never taking it's eyes off me. Slowly it ambled forward as I took a step onto the stairs. What ever it was it could not be good for my health to let it get near me. As I turn and start to run up the stairs I hear something like someone exhaling after being hit in the stomach and the scratch of claws on cobblestone behind me.

Not good! Not Good! Not Good!

I make it to the door and I am about to get back into the basement proper when my foot catches on the last step.

NO! Crack!

My face collides with the concrete floor and blood starts to pour out immediately from what I can assume is my now broken nose. Spinning around I see the thing is on top of me standing almost at it’s full height which goes far past the door way to where if it wasn't kneeling it would be hitting the ceiling. As it descends onto me I make one last effort to save myself. Using both my hands I shove my knife at it's chest and close my eyes not wanting to see the oncoming claws from the beast. I feel the beast impacting with my knife and for several seconds nothing happens until two thuds beside my head on either side shake me from my shock. Opening my eyes I see the beast being held aloft by my scrawny arms as brownish blood starts to drip from the wound onto my hands.

 

Not especially. It was interesting enough that I read it all, but I found myself caring less and less about it as I went on.

EDIT: Someone with better focus might be able to help you improve it.

 

Honestly, that was pretty bad. As an intro to a longer story, it might work, but as it is, it leaves too many questions unanswered, even with the FAQ included, to make a satisfying story.

 

Here's my idea.

Taylor gets a different Power.

The Power of being Multiple.

She has the ability to generate clones of herself. These clones are not individuals but are remote controlled constructs controlled by Taylor. She can multitask and control multiple bodies at once.

If something happens to her original body she can move into a clone and make it more real. Thus getting a new body. As long as she has enough clones stored up she does not have to fear death.

So...

What do you all think of this?

 

Thats... not really an idea for a story. Just a power, which isn't enough to base a story on.

Also there's a thread for power ideas only, in my sig.

 

Idea for a one-shot snippet that I kind of want to write: Appeal to Probability.

Basically, one of Dinah's predictions is really fucking wrong (I'm thinking Taylor gets killed by the Butcher during what would have been the canon Butcher fight) and she gets chewed out for basically gambling with the entire world's safety with probabilities. Because I've kind of been lingering over the fact that she really doesn't ever get called out on how monumentally fucked her methods of operation and decision making process are, even among fans and it's been bothering me something fierce.

 

Could you expand on that? I didn't read much of later Worm but my understanding was people asked Dinah questions and she gave them an answer in % . She doesn't really have much say in anything.

 

Who had a bad role model to imitate.

 

FTFY, but Coil is also a valid answer.

 

Why would you want to imitate her anyway? Ya she's fairly badass, but she was also utterly miserable.

 

By being a self-righteous bitch, basically. The single most accurate Dinah I've ever read in fanon was in Maternal Instinct Quest, and I hated her there.

 

Link.

 

I thought she was twelve? Which is middle school age. Not a grown adult, but not a little child either.

 

After she gets free from Coil, she starts using her 'numbers' to try to increase the world's chance of survival. She very quickly falls into the 'forest before the trees' issue and stops actually seeing when she's causing individual harm if it makes her numbers better. People forget, she willing gave Tagg the information that led to the Arcadia fiasco because it made her numbers better.

 

Wasn't it because he's an asshole that kept her in his office to tell him and her powers mean that it's very hard for her to not tell people what she sees? Because I recall her pretty much telling him 'fuck you' the entire time, also I'm pretty sure they got that info from elsewhere, it's not that hard to find a Parahuman's real identity if you actually try.

 

Her thinker headaches get much worse if she doesn't answer questions. But that doesn't force her to answer a question, it just punishes her for deciding not to. Considering Taylor literally rescued her from slavery by a crime lord who kept her drugged senseless, suffering a migraine for her is a very small thing. And as someone who gets migraines, I think it's fair to say I'd be willing to have one for someone who I literally owed my life to. So she either decided to give the info willingly, or she's too much of a coward to take a headache for someone she owes her life to. Neither of these things are good things. They're just different versions of bad things. Given her later actions and her justification for helping Tagg when Taylor talks to her, I'm inclined to believe it was option 1.

Also, without her numbers, Tagg could have fairly easily found Taylor identity. But the school incident happened because Dinah's numbers told Tagg that was the plan with the best chance of catching her. So the school is still Dinah's fault.

 

I think you're making an error in compairing natural headaches with Artificially created soft limits on super powers granted by parasites with a good reason to make sure you don't go against it. You might as well saying that because you burned yourself on the stove once you know what the guy who's soul was immolated by a wizard went through.

 

I think you're forgetting that canon explicitly describes her headaches. They're migraines. Severe, agonizing migraines, but there's a limit to how much pain you can hit someone with before they pass out. Dinah actually does pass out from the pain once. But that's just the thing. Once it gets to that point, it can't get worse. The pain literally cannot be worse than enough pain to knock her unconscious because once she's unconscious, she stops feeling pain and her powers turn off.

She literally owes Taylor everything. Passing out once for her compared to what Taylor went through for her is nothing.

 

Again, you're underestimating the fact this isn't a natural thing. Hell it's painful enough to cause someone to blackout from pain. You're asking a 10 year old girl who's just gotten out of being constantly fed a cocktail of drugs and undergoing withdraw to suffer torture without cracking. Because it is effectively torture, real pain makes you black out too if you get too much of it, and how does it sound saying she should have had a strong enough will if say she was having her bones broken until she passed out. This isn't even getting into what ever mental rewiring a shard does to get to make her use her power like with Tattletale's inability to keep from blabbing what ever juicy tidbit she learns as soon as she learns it.

 

To be fair in this scenario: inaction is as much a choice as action. Dinah can ask questions and get odds back, and make a choice. People do that every day, hers is just better. And as they say, great power, great responsibility. This is pretty much a trolley dilemma.

Also, getting worse Thinker headaches isn't just pain. It also means she has less questions to ask, which means she has less margin for error to try and make things better. So withholding information would have downsides beyond just pain. Though pain does tend to make people worse at making good decisions, so you know, also a significant downsides.

That, and for someone who spent a long time drugged and captive, I sure as hell would not want to be in pain, vulnerable, or worse unconscious around people I didn't trust. That's nightmare fuel right there.

Not gonna try to debate whether it was justified, just pointing out some downsides on Dinah's end that you aren't mentioning.