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Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Hello I would like to request a location for a story, also here is horse.

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Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Yoruichi posted:

I can't belive you're making me do this, what am I your mum

Here is your horse, which is actually Chairchucker's horse



The Ducks had it Coming Though, TBH 514 words

The hunter sighted down his barrel at the flock.

“17,” said a voice from behind him.

He lowered the shotgun and turned around. “What? And also, who are you, and where did you come from?”

“Oh, sorry,” said the figure who was now before him instead of behind him, since he’d turned around. The man was very sharply dressed, and his cloak was simultaneously the blackest black, but also completely fabulous. “I’m Ivan. There are 17 ducks. I assumed you were trying to count them, since you were looking at them so intently. Thought I’d help you, since I’m so good at counting.”

“What?” said the hunter. “I wasn’t counting them, I was trying to do some sport hunting.”

“Sport?” said Ivan. “I don’t mind some sport, actually. Quite good at tiddlywinks, in fact. Not familiar with this sport though, what’s the rules?”

“Rules?” The hunter frowned. “I’m trying to shoot the ducks.”

“Right,” said Ivan. “And they shoot back? I’m trying to figure out how this works for the other team.”

“No. They get shot and I take them home and put them on my wall.”

“Whoever invented this sport is an idiot,” said Ivan. “Gotta give the other team more to do.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” asked the hunter. “You’re not some kind of animal loving hippie, are you?”

“Hmm,” said Ivan. “Not sure what a hippie is, but as to loving animals, I suppose it depends on the animal. For example, I don’t really care for dolphins or roosters, but bats and wolves are agreeable fellows. Don’t mind ducks either, for that matter.”

“Right,” said the hunter. “Well, it strikes me that as this is a wildlife reserve and I’m not supposed to be hunting here, I’d probably better not leave any witnesses.” He pointed the shotgun at Ivan. “Any last words?”

“Hmm,” said Ivan. “Is that weapon sanctified in some way?”

“What?”

“Or loaded with stakes? Maybe garlic coated ammunition?”

“Enough questions,” said the hunter, and pulled the trigger.

At the crack of the shotgun, there was a thick plume of smoke, and a large flock of ducks rose into the air. The smoke cleared to reveal Ivan was no longer standing where he’d been. “73,” said Ivan from behind the hunter.

~

If the hunter’s body had been discovered by the wrong people, it might have caused An Incident. There might’ve been a great deal of unpleasantness regarding the death of another human at the hands of a space vampire. Fortunately, most humans obeyed the sanctity of the wildlife reserve, so when the body was discovered, it was by the ranger, who decided that actually, it was extremely good for poachers to get killed by space vampires, and there was no need to do anything about it.

Plus the ranger was secretly a space werewolf, which he hadn’t listed on his CV when applying for the job, because it didn’t seem all that relevant, and anyway, the point is space werewolves and space vampires are pretty chill with each other.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



in, cat

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Sheer Force of Will 322 words

“Any change?”

Bob checked the fridge. “Nope. Still empty.”

“Hmm,” said Petunia. “I really thought I could will it full.”

“Will it.”

“Yeah. Like. Through sheer force of will, cause it to fill up with treats.”

“Because this is something you’ve done before?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Uh huh.”

“Like, last summer, it was really hot, and then I wanted it to rain, and then it rained.”

“Right. I wonder if you can see maybe a slight difference between those two things?”

“Yeah, the rain thing worked, and the fridge thing hasn’t yet.”

“OK, sure, that’s one thing I guess.”

“What’re you two talking about?” asked Tahlia, having just entered the room.

“Petunia’s trying to restock the fridge through sheer force of will,” said Bob.

“Ah, like last year when she made it rain.”

“Exactly!” said Petunia.

“What?” Bob shook his head. “You don’t honestly believe she made it rain.”

Tahlia shrugged. “Can’t think of any other explanation.”

“Well, the fridge hasn’t worked.”

“Not yet, no,” said Petunia.

“She probably just needs to concentrate harder,” said Tahlia. “And your negativity can’t be helping.”

Bob shook his head. “You know what, I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

They waited until he’d left.

“Check it again,” said Petunia.

Tahlia opened the fridge. “Still no food, but now there’s a portal to another dimension.”

Petunia peered over her shoulder. “Hmm. Mind must’ve wondered. You know what, we can work with that.”

~

When Bob returned, the fridge was still empty and there was an interdimensional invasion in the kitchen. Just, like, a whole bunch of interdimensional beings tracking interdimensional mud or slime or whatever through the house, sitting on the sofa with interdimensional snacks which they were spilling everywhere, and worst of all, watching the season finale of The Bachelor when he was still only up to episode five.

“Hell with this,” he said to himself, “I’m getting new housemates.”

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



It's me, an rear end in a top hat.

EDIT: wiki me please

Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 09:58 on Mar 8, 2021

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.






My (33M) partner (69M) of the last 12 months turned out not to be who I thought he was 579 words

So, before you mention the age gap, I didn’t realise how old he was at first. I met Seth just over a year ago, and we hit it off immediately. I usually have really bad luck with guys, and met so many total jerks who just wanted a one night thing, or who turned out to be catfishes, and even one guy who was legitimately on the run from the police. (Long story, I’ll make a thread about that if there’s interest.)

With Seth, though, it was different. We just hit it off instantly, had a lot of interests in common, he got on well with my friends, and even my sister, who has never liked any of my boyfriends. Also, he’s really good at cooking.

The problems started two months ago when the Reptoid army invaded Earth. Turns out, Seth is actually a Reptoid advance scout. The first time I saw him in his Reptoid form I just about fainted.

The thing is, apart from the whole ‘actually being an advance scout for the army that invaded Earth and subjugated humanity’ thing, Seth has been nothing but honest with me, and I still do really like, maybe even love him. I think he’s the Reptoid I want to grow old with. (Oh, on the old thing – Reptoids have a much longer lifespan, that’s why he’s 69.) He apologised for deceiving me into thinking he was human, and although I was mad at first, I get it, like, there’s a lot of stuff about my work I’m not allowed to tell him, either.

We’ve talked about kids, and I’ve always thought that because of who I loved I’d have to adopt, or go some surrogate route or something like that, but it turns out Reptoids reproduce by planting eggs in the belly of their mate. I’m not totally sold on having Reptoid eggs hatch in my belly, but all prospective parents have doubts, right? Besides, we still have the option to adopt if we want.

So, we both still really want to make this work, but my sister’s pretty mad. She always finds it harder to forgive men for hurting me, and I love her for it, but I really want her to get along with Seth; they’re the two most important lifeforms in my life, and it sucks not being able to hang out with both of them at the same time.

TL;DR: My boyfriend Seth is actually a Reptoid, we still want to make it work but my sister’s pretty mad.

EDIT: OK, very clever, you can all stop commenting ‘nice’ now.

2nd EDIT: OK, to those of you telling me that’s a ‘red flag’, and to break up with him now, I’m not going to throw out the perfect relationship just because of one lie. He’s apologised for it, and I understand why he did it, even if I don’t agree with it.

3rd EDIT: I’ve blocked all the xenophobes calling me a ‘race traitor’ or ‘Benedict Arnold’ or any variation on that. We don’t need that negativity, we’re trying to live positively here.

4th EDIT: Thank you to u/IHeartReptoids for letting me know more about the Reptoid spawning process. I don’t think my ribcage could take that kind of trauma, so I’ll definitely hold off at this stage. Maybe we’ll investigate the adoption thing more thoroughly.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



I seek knowledge of dragon facts.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Antivehicular posted:

Your dragon was man-made and does not know it.

The True Story of Georgia Jenkins and Harold Jumpington 999 words

Molly Jenkins had been told that if she believed hard enough, anything was possible.

When Molly made her clay dragon (named Georgia Jenkins. Georgia on account of it was a cute name, Jenkins on account of she was her mum because she’d made her) she believed very hard that she would come to life. This was probably not what was meant by ‘anything was possible’.

I mean really, it’s very bad advice. No matter how hard you believe, there’s a bunch of stuff that you will never be able to do.

Except if your best friend is an actual wish granting genie, which Molly’s best friend Raoul was, on his dad’s side. This was not common knowledge, in fact even Molly herself was unaware of Raoul’s genie heritage.

Their teacher, Ms Mackintosh, put the clay creations into the kiln. Raoul had made a frog, named Harold Jumpington, who was also going to come to life. The rest of the class had made mugs, because that was the actual task they’d been given. The mugs would not be coming to life, but they would work as actual mugs, so when you think about it, was any transformation weirder than another?

Molly stared at the kiln and said, ‘I can’t wait to bring my pet dragon home’, and Raoul nodded and stroked his beard. He was the only one in their year with a beard. The only one in the school, for that matter. It was a good beard.

Georgia and Harold were not yet alive when they came out of the kiln. Molly was briefly concerned, but Raoul suggested they should paint them first, because a clay coloured dragon and frog isn’t that fun. Raoul painted Harold an extremely bright green, and Molly painted Georgia purple, then added glitter. They looked at each other’s creations, nodded solemnly and agreed that of all the clay creations, theirs was most certainly the best dragon and the best frog, whereas only one of the other ones could possibly be the best mug, and which one was entirely up for debate.

So really, all those mug making chumps looked very silly, now.

The bell rang for lunch. All the other kids scattered to the various corners of the school, but Molly and Raoul sat next to the creations with their lunch, and watched Georgia’s and Harold’s paint dry, so as to make sure that they were ready for when they both came to life.

Harold came to life first, which makes sense because frogs are less complex critters than dragons, as well as actually existing, and also Georgia’s glitter added an extra layer of complication that probably mattered in some way. Harold ribbited in the way frogs do, then slowly hippity hopped his way over to Raoul and sat on his shoulder, because what’s the point of being a half genie if the things you bring to life don’t treat you like their buddy.

“What do frogs eat?” asked Molly.

“Harold will probably find flies and stuff,” said Raoul, “and live in my backyard on a lily pad and ribbit all the time.”

Molly nodded. That certainly sounded like what a frog ought to do.

Then Georgia came to life, slowly unfurled her wings and flip flapped over to Molly, perching on her head and blowing fireballs into the air near her, but harmless fireballs that went a few inches then dissipated without burning down the school or anything like that.

“What do dragons eat?” asked Raoul.

Molly scrunched her face in thought for a moment. “I think dragons usually eat humans and cows and things, but Georgia is small and my friend, so she will eat mice and rats and mosquitoes and snakes.”

“Snakes?”

“Well, she’ll probably eat a snake over several days, because they’re quite big, or maybe she’ll just scare them away with her fireballs.”

Raoul nodded. What was the point of having a pet dragon if you couldn’t use her to keep snakes away, after all?

The bell rang, and Ms Mackintosh came back to the classroom. She sighed. “This isn’t ‘bring your pet to school’ day,” she said.

“We didn’t,” said Raoul.

“They were here already, we’re doing the opposite, we’re taking them home,” said Molly.

Ms Mackintosh sighed again. “Fine. What is that anyway, some kind of lizard?”

“A dragon,” said Molly. “Her name is Georgia.”

“All right,” said Ms Mackintosh. “Well just make sure she doesn’t kidnap any princesses or whatever dragons do.”

“She’s not that kind of dragon,” said Molly. “She’s a small and friendly dragon, who scares off snakes.”

Ms Mackintosh sighed a third time. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Mr Blooples only ever catches native birds, and leaves them my back porch.”

“Who’s Mr Blooples?” asked Molly.

“My cat,” said Ms Mackintosh. “Here, I’ll show you a photo.”

She showed them a photo of a black cat.

“That’s a good cat,” said Molly.

“Thanks,” said Ms Mackintosh, “but I really wish he’d leave the native birds alone and stick to eating pests, and not leave them on my porch.”

“If you believe hard enough,” said Raoul, “anything is possible.”

Ms Mackintosh shrugged. “I don’t think I can believe hard enough for that.”

“I’ll believe for both of us,” said Molly.

~

That night, Molly brought Georgia over to Raoul’s house. Since Raoul and Molly were best friends, it stood to reason that Harold and Georgia had to be friends, and Georgia had to know not to eat any frogs. Plus, her parents would probably have to be eased into the idea of a pet dragon.

Also that night, Mr Blooples exclusively killed and ate cockroaches and mice and left the birds alone, because Raoul liked Ms Mackintosh, even though she was sometimes bossy, because she didn’t yell at them or get angry when they did things like make a living dragon and frog out of clay instead of a mug like she told them to do.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Yeah OK I'm gonna write a story.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Time for Filing 1428 words

First thing in the morning I am summoned to the Captain’s office. The meeting is to discuss the fact that I recommended for declassification a file regarding one of our many war crimes. I knew when I did it that it was a mistake. Not a mistake in the sense that I was incorrect; a mistake in the sense that they will obviously not heed my recommendation, and it may cause issues for me at work.

‘So,’ says the Captain. ‘This file.’

I wait for him to explicitly prompt me to speak, because it’s been my experience that’s safest.

‘Did you mean to recommend this for declassification?’

‘Yes, Sir. The events occurred over twenty-nine years ago, so it meets the time requirements. Additionally, the incident was extensively covered in the media anyway. It is an opportunity for us to demonstrate we are putting such events of the past behind us.’

‘Hmm,’ says the Captain. ‘The thing is, we’ve got these anniversary celebrations coming up.’

I’d thought they were more commemorations than celebrations, but what do I know.

‘I just think, maybe it’s not the right time to be bringing these files to light. Might distract from the celebrations, ey?’

I mean, celebration seems an especially odd word because we lost thirty years ago. Although, given the contents of the file that was definitely not going to be declassified, and many like it, perhaps that was a good thing.

I shrug. ‘I am only a recommender. Approval is above my pay level.’

He nods, happy that I know my place. ‘Quite, quite. We’ll just shelve that for another year or so, shall we?’

And in a way it’s not really his fault either, I suppose. The chiefs will want to maintain the fiction that all those atrocities occurred without the direction of the regime at the time.

The meeting ends, and I head back to the archives, relieved that the conversation went, relatively speaking, quite benignly. The Captain and I have a good arrangement. He mostly leaves me alone, because no one else wants to sort out the files in archives. No one but me and Petra. Most people find it boring. We don’t mind. No one else there to bother us, free to blast our own music, just get in the zone and sort through the files. And very little oversight, so we can take our time and make sure we actually go through the files properly.

‘What’d he say?’, asks Petra.

‘Not this year,’ I tell her.

She shrugs. ‘Sure there’s a good reason we just can’t see.’

She is, perhaps, a slightly better patriot than I am.

We’re sorting through the files from the same conflict where the various atrocities happened. A great number of atrocities, all documented very carefully, with the names of the people involved, and the people who told them to do it, and the people who told them, all the way up to the chiefs. So when I see the file on Temporal Displacement, which sounds very un-war crimey, I gladly pick it up and have a flip through. Reading the war crime files can get a bit depressing. They bother me more than Petra, I think because I’m the one who goes to the meetings with the Captain, so she’s better able to divorce the events in the files with the people now in charge. Me, I sometimes wonder.

‘Check this out,’ I tell her, and I pass it over.

She flips through. ‘A time machine? That ridiculous.’

‘Right?’

‘But if it’s in the archives…’

‘Yeah,’ I say. If it’s in the archives, we take it at face value.

And besides, who wouldn’t want to read about a time machine?

We read the whole thing cover to cover.

~

It’s the next day, and I’m waiting outside the Captain’s office, and this time Petra is in there first. And we should’ve just tucked the file away, but it’s our job, you know? And I can just make out the conversation Petra is having, and it’s not with the Captain, it’s with the Colonel, and I know we’re in trouble this time. Because Petra is very smart, and she’s talking about how even though this file is technically over twenty-nine years old, it refers to events that are more recent than that, and she’s technically right, I mean I wouldn’t even have though of that, but it really feels like the Colonel would prefer not to have people who know about a working time machine roaming free.

And she leaves, accompanied by military policemen who have just been summoned, and it’s my turn. I am better at playing dumb, because again, not as good a patriot as she is, which is also why I eavesdropped on their whole conversation, so I know how to play it.

‘So,’ says the Colonel, ‘you’ve recommended this file’ – and he’s holding the Temporal Displacement file – ‘for reclassification. The Captain tells me that’s the first such recommendation you’ve given.’ The Captain is there as well, and he’s smiling at me almost apologetically, like he knows that he’s accidentally gone and disposed of his archivers and he’s really sorry, because no one else wants the job, and he doesn’t want to give the bad news to someone else that they’re going to have to do it.

‘Well, this one was only classified beige’, I say.

‘Right,’ says the Colonel.

‘And we can assume from this that the device listed in the file doesn’t work,’ I say, hoping I can spin my way out of the trouble Petra found, ‘but the fact that such a device was nonetheless funded should mean a classification of at least’ – and I scrunch up my face as if thinking hard – ‘yellow, if not red.’

‘I see,’ says the Colonel, and for a moment I think I’ve gotten away with it, but then he asks ‘what’s your favourite number?’

And I know, because of the eavesdropping moments before, and a few other times besides, what that means. But the thing is, I’ve also read the file, and I know for a fact that no one else other than Petra has, because no one else other than Petra ever does, or ever will. That’s why we had no competition for the archiving job.

‘Pi,’ I say.

‘Huh’? asks the Colonel, and I start to list off the digits, but he waves his hand. ‘Whole number, if you please.’

‘Three hundred and fourteen, then,’ I say.

And the Colonel smiles, but it is not one of the sheepish or apologetic smiles I get from the Captain, it is an unpleasant smile of someone who thinks they have a great joke at your expense. ‘Cell 314 it is’, he says, and the door is opened and a military policeman takes me away.

And I spend the next year or so in cell 314, but it isn’t quite as long as the Colonel had planned, because like I said, I read the file, and I know which cell was used to test the device.

So, after about fourteen months, one night the device appears in my cell, and I prevail on the gentleman operating the device to take me with him, because I can give him a first-hand account of the future, and I further prevail upon him to omit me from the records, because I didn’t read about me in the file.

I also use the device in cell 5, which is Petra’s cell, but I go a little bit earlier so she only has to spend a week behind bars.

And once I fill the time machine operating gentlemen in on the results of the conflict, and all the war crimes and such, the three of us take a bit of a trip, and we can go where we want, because political borders and such are meaningless when you can jump to a time period with no passports and no border guards.

Petra is still too much of a patriot for what the two of us have in mind, so we drop her in a time period with fewer war crimes.

And then we defect.

And I suppose technically I’m a traitor. I suppose technically what I’m doing is treason, when I, 30 years in the past, divulge to the Other Side the details of files that describe war crimes – especially when I do this before they happen, and create witnesses.

And I suppose some would say I haven’t been a very good patriot, and have betrayed my country.

But they started it.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



in

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



The SS Big Old Upside Down Boat 1377 words

‘Check it out,’ said Alice. ‘Over there. Big old metal thing on that atoll.’

‘Huh,’ said Simon. ‘Looks like one of those big old timey boats, if they’d built them upside-down and with a hole blown in them.’

‘We gotta check it out,’ said Alice. ‘We need provisions. And there might be some neat stuff.’

So, they pulled alongside it and tied their boat off a little loop thingie on the side of the big old metal upside down boat. Simon chucked a grappling hook up to where the big explodey bit was, and it snagged and held. The two of them climbed up and peered over the edge.

‘Man,’ said Alice, ‘it is a good thing you have so much rope.’

‘Can never have too much rope,’ said Simon. He tied a length of rope to one of the jagged exploded bits along the side of the hole, and they lowered themselves down. ‘So, I guess down there it becomes less massive gaps and more passageways or whatever,’ he said pointing to one end of the room where it was less massive room and more passageway. An end kind of away from the exploded bit, that was significantly less exploded but still a bit worse for wear, but that’s how explosions usually went, right?

So the two of them wandered in that direction until they came across a hole in the floor, with a ladder that went all the way into the ceiling, but didn’t really go down into the room below. ‘This whole upside-down business is gonna be a nuisance,’ said Alice. Simon shrugged and pulled out more rope. ‘How much of that stuff do you have anyway?’

‘Enough,’ said Simon. ‘We’ve gotta remember to collect it all on the way out, though.’

There were a few doors along the side of the next passageway, but they appeared locked. ‘Lucky I bought my can opener,’ said Alice.

‘I don’t think that thing’s designed for this kind of metal,’ said Simon.

Ignoring him, Alice pulled out the can opener, cut a circle in the nearest door, put her arm through and opened the door. ‘Never doubt my can opener again.’

‘I never will,’ said Simon.

The room it opened into appeared to be a bedroom, although the mattresses had fallen onto the ceiling and the cupboards had fallen and broken open. ‘Heck yeah,’ said Alice. ‘Loot.’

They had a look and there were some basic provisions, some coins and a video disc. The video disc had pictures of naked women in various poses on the front, with big words reading Backdoor Milfs 37. ‘Wow, ancient smut,’ said Alice, and tucked it all away in her backpack.

‘We don’t even have anything to play that on.’

‘That’s not the point. It’s history. Future anthropologists will thank us. Financially.’

They systematically worked their way through the entire floor with Alice’s trusty can opener, relieving the no doubt long dead inhabitants of the rooms of their coins, their canned goods, and their smut. Also, one of the rooms had a big metal club that said Easton along the side, which Simon stuck in his belt loop.

‘Obviously this boat is from the East,’ said Simon.

‘OK,’ said Alice, ‘but how far East? I mean, if you go far enough East, you end up West.’

Simon shrugged. They cleared the passageway, then used some rope to get to the next level down. This level was clearly a kitchen or something, and had a lot of canned goods. ‘We’ll have to make a few trips,’ he said. ‘With what we’ve got here, we’ll never miss a meal again.’

‘Could just make this place our new base,’ said Alice. ‘That way we don’t have to carry all the stuff up and down the ropes.

‘OK,’ said Simon, ‘but if we’re making this place our home, we’re fixing up the ladder situation, so we don’t have to climb up and down ropes everywhere.’

So, they put most of their accumulated rations with all the other rations in the kitchen. Also, they found a big old cleaver that the rust hadn’t gotten to, and Alice pocketed that.

The next floor down, they came to what appeared to be the bridge, with a bunch of important looking smashed up electronic equipment. ‘It’s a shame none of this survived,’ said Simon.

‘I guess,’ said Alice. ‘We wouldn’t know what to do with it if it had, though.’

‘Radio other ships,’ said a voice that was neither of them.

They turned towards this voice and saw what appeared to be a skeleton wearing a captain’s hat and carrying a sword.

‘Oh, hi,’ said Alice. ‘Didn’t know anyone was here. We were about to claim this place as our new base, but if the place is already occupied, that’s our bad.’

‘Hmmm,’ said the skeleton. ‘I haven’t seen anyone in… well since the event I suppose.’

‘Oh wow,’ said Simon. ‘How old are you?’

‘Dunno, my electronic calendars aren’t working’.

‘Fair enough,’ said Alice. ‘I’m Alice, by the way. This is Simon.’ Simon waved.

‘I’m Captain Bonebeard,’ said the skeleton, and he did indeed have something resembling a beard made of bone.

‘Honestly didn’t think skeletons could grow beards,’ said Simon.

‘Or walk or talk,’ said Alice. ‘What’s up with all that?’

‘Probs magic,’ said Simon.

‘Can’t be,’ said Alice. ‘Gotta be a scientific explanation.’

Captain Bonebeard shrugged. ‘Radiation or something I guess. It was hot and it hurt like heck, but afterwards… well you see.’

‘How can you do anything with all your vital organs gone?’ asked Simon.

‘I dunno,’ said Bonebeard. ‘Some kind of radioactive mutation thing I guess. Also my chin exploded which is why I have this bone beard, which is cool because I could never grow a beard before.’

‘Right,’ said Simon. ‘Well. Sorry to bother you, but I guess we should be going.’

‘Can’t let you leave, actually,’ said Captain Bonebeard.

‘Don’t see why not,’ said Alice. ‘Look we’ll give you back some of this ancient smut, how’s that?’

‘What? Show me that!’ Alice showed him. ‘Dammit,’ he said, ‘I knew those scumbags had contraband.’

‘They’re not allowed smut on the boat?’ asked Simon.

‘Ship,’ said the Captain. ‘It’s a ship, not a boat.’ Simon shrugged. ‘And no, it’s poor discipline, I run a tight ship and I don’t allow for those shenanigans.’

‘All right,’ said Alice, ‘well I’ll leave this contraband with you, and we’ll just be on our way.’

She handed him the smut, and he took it from her muttering ‘Disgraceful. Shameful. That one’s just unrealistic. Hmmm, I wonder if there’s a working player…’

Simon and Alice left the bridge, took some of the provisions back from the kitchen, then climbed back out to the exploded bit, where they once again encountered Captain Bonebeard. ‘I told you I can’t let you leave,’ he said.

‘How did you even get here this fast?’ asked Alice.

‘Secret passages,’ he said.

‘Ah, we’ll have to look for them after,’ said Simon, and he took the metal club, walked up to Captain Bonebeard, and clubbed him hard in the skull, which went flying.

‘Ow,’ said the skull of Captain Bonebeard. ‘All right, fine you can leave, if you really don’t want to stay here for dinner.’

‘Well, we did kind of want to stay here,’ said Alice.

‘Then why did you knock my skull off?’

‘You were sounding all threatening,’ said Simon.

‘What?’ said Bonebeard, then thought for a moment. ‘Hmmm, now that I think about it, I did phrase that poorly, didn’t I? Almost menacingly, in fact.’

‘We thought you were going to try to kill us,’ said Alice.

‘You know, now that I think about it, I can see that,’ said Bonebeard. ‘It’s just, I haven’t really talked to anyone for a while, so I guess I got bad at expressing myself. Sorry, didn’t mean to imply I would kill you or whatever.’

‘No worries,’ said Simon, ‘sorry for clubbing your head off, all a misunderstanding I suppose.’

Anyway, long story short, Captain Bonebeard joined their crew, and they made the upside-down ship their base, but they never did find any working machines to play the ancient smut, much to his poorly concealed disappointment.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Hello please provide me with an animal picture.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.




Monkeys Are Good Drivers, Actually 900 words

The monkeys had discussed it at length, and all agreed that actually, it was getting way too cold. Time to move somewhere warmer, like, uh…

Anyway, time to move.

They hatched a plan, or rather, they saw the zookeeper and agreed, ‘hey, let’s do this thing’. They all crowded at the bars and made various hootings or whatever sound monkeys make, and he came over to the bars and chuckled at them. The monkeys near the top grabbed parts of his face and pulled him towards them.

He chuckled again and allowed himself to be dragged towards the bars. Then they inexplicably let go of his face and lost interest. He shrugged and went on his way. Who could understand the mysterious ways of the monkeys.

After he had left, one of the monkeys took the keys it had pilfered from him, and as a team they tried to place it into their cage’s door lock. They only dropped it about 3 times, and hardly any fights broke out over the correct way to turn it. Before long, the cage was open, and they all spilled out. They removed the key from the lock and took the keyring with them, and let out some of the other monkeys – but not all of them, because that pack over there were a bunch of jerks – and also most of the birds, but not the penguins because it was even colder over there, and they weren’t dealing with that nonsense.

Well, they opened the cages, anyway. Most of the birds just stayed in their nests, but the other monkeys all left their cages and started harassing zoo visitors or throwing poo at the lions.

The original monkeys, or OMs, found a tree near the zoo’s wall, and scampered up and over. There were a few vehicles here – they didn’t really know this, but they were in the staff carpark. One of them took the key ring and started trying the various keys in various keyholes, and also keying a few of the cars because, heck why not. Then a motorbike beeped. The monkey prodded the button he’d accidentally pressed again, and the motorbike beeped again.

The monkeys swarmed over to the motorbike. Some of them sat on the pedals, and others sat on those monkeys, and others sat on those monkeys, then some sat on the seat, and some sat on the handlebars, and it was basically just a mass of monkeys. There was a helmet on one of the motorbikes, and, agreeing that safety came first, three of them crammed themselves into the helmet and perched at the top of the monkey mass. Then, the mass of monkeys inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine.

Riding a motorbike as a swarm of monkeys is quite difficult, perhaps even more difficult than riding a motorbike as a person, but they managed it, after only driving into a few of the cars a few times. Fortunately, monkeys have very good balance. Before long, they had driven under the boom gate, although it took some monkey-like agility to do so without knocking all the monkeys flying; only a few of them got knocked off, and they chased down the motorbike and got back on, on their positions.

They were cruising down the highway, and all the other cars were going the other way for some reason, but the monkeys had gotten quite good at this motorbiking thing, and managed to avoid the cars, also the cars mostly got out of their way, so it was a pretty good system over, all, really. Then they saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens, and the next thing you know a car was chasing them.

Eventually the flashing car managed to catch up to them and force them off the road. The monkeys weren’t happy with this turn of events, but there’s not much you can do when other motorists insisted on driving recklessly. The other motorist got out of his car and brandished a gun at them, which is rude and also dangerous, so they did the logical thing, which was to quickly get into the car he’d just vacated and close and lock the door.

He tried to stop them, but monkeys are fast and nimble, and people are less so, so bad luck chief. Also, he’d left the keys in the ignition, which is just careless, so they drove off and left him in the dust. One of them found out how to work the window, and they threw out the helmet, as they would no longer be needing that since they had seatbelts and airbags and things. They’d put the driver’s side seatbelt on, which some of them clung to for safety, and others kind of clung onto those monkeys, and also there were monkeys on the pedals and stuff, which was kinda hard to get used to but not so bad since they’d just driven a motorbike, but also the monkeys on the pedals couldn’t see where they were going, so communication was key, anyway the point is they can hardly be blamed for the traffic accidents they left in their wake, because no one forced those other cars to drive into ditches or each other.

Anyway, the house they crashed into was pretty warm, so they hung out there for the entire winter.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Yoruichi posted:


If you want to know how we made any of these decisions, you can find out, here! Listen in as your judges Sebmojo, Morning Bell and I eviscerate your stories and argue about the results, and then Sebmojo does a most metal reading of this week’s most metal story, Blood Trench!

I enjoyed listening to this

The colloquialisms will continue. :colbert:

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Give me a cosy song please.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Flash rule: If music be the food of love, play on

Got No Rhythm 966 words

“That’s your new stepsister?”

“Yep.”

“She’s…”

“Yeah. She’s one of the Fair Folk.”

“Right.” Finn mulled this over for a moment. “So, your mum married a fairy.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess they do say it’s not the size that counts.”

“Oh, come on,” said Michael, “please can you not.”

“But how would that even work, mechanically?”

“Shut up.”

“He’d be, what, less than half a foot tall?”

“She.”

“Oh.” Finn was silent for a moment. “So, you have a fairy stepmother.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Is it weird having two mums?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “That is absolutely the least weird thing about this situation.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Whisper, who’d just flown over.

“Nothing,” said Michael.

“Hey Whisper,” said Finn, “how do you feel about having a human stepbrother?”

“I like it!” said Whisper cheerfully. “Humans are fun!”

“Whatever,” said Michael.

And then the bell went, and they all went to class.

~

While walking from his maths class to basic enchantment, Michael heard the voice from inside a classroom. “What’s the matter, Tinkerbell? Out of fairy dust?”

He sighed and opened the door. It was Fred, and he was holding the top of an upside down box. “Let her out, Fred.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let go of the box.”

“Who’s going to make me?”

Fred wasn’t a big guy, but some of his friends were. Nonetheless... Michael picked up a chair. “You’re going to do it out of the goodness of your own heart.”

Fred shook his head. “Easy, chief.” He let go of the box and stepped away. “Not gonna make any friends acting like that. I’ll be seeing you around.”

Fred left, Michael picked up the box, and Whisper slowly flew out from under it. “What happened?”

Whisper frowned. “He said he wanted to play. That wasn’t a fun game at all!”

Michael shook his head. “You can’t be that careless, Whisper. Some kids are jerks.”

“Well, thanks for helping me!” said Whisper. “I knew having you as a big brother would be great!”

“Whatever,” said Michael. “Mum would ground me for a year if I let some oaf squash you. I’ve gotta go to class, try not to get in any more trouble.”

~

Fred and his friends found Michael during recess. Well, they found Michael and Finn. Michael saw them coming. “Run,” he said to Finn. Finn ran.

“Your friend ditched you, ey?” said Fred. “Smart move.”

And then Fred’s friends hit Michael while Michael curled up and tried to take the blows on his arms and legs, until a teacher came, broke up the ‘fight’, and gave them all after school detention.

~

“Ouch,” said Finn, looking at Michael’s injuries. “Thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Michael shrugged. “No reason for both of us to get bashed. Teacher came pretty quick, that your doing?”

“If anyone asks, they just happened to be there.”

“Thanks.”

Whisper flew over, at that point. “What happened to you?”

“Fred’s mates,” said Finn.

Whisper frowned. “Someone should punish those boys.”

“Don’t worry,” said Michael, “they’ve got after school detention, same as me, so justice prevails I suppose.”

“That doesn’t sound like justice.”

“I believe the official school policy is ‘it takes two to tango’,” said Finn. “Or in this case, four.”

“Tango?” asked Whisper.

“It’s a dance,” said Michael. “And also a saying.”

“Human dances sound dangerous. Someone should teach them a better dance.”

Michael laughed. “I’m sure you’d make a great dance instructor.”

~

Fortunately, there were no further run ins with Fred or his friends until after school detention. Michael sat in his desk and worked on some of his maths homework, because really, what else was there to do? Well, there was making threatening gestures at Michael, which is what Fred’s friends were doing. “Psst,” said Whisper.

Michael looked down. “What are you doing here?”

Whisper shrugged. “I’d prefer to wait so I can walk home with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Walk?”

“Well, fly while you walk.” She looked around. “Those are Fred’s friends?”

Michael nodded. Whisper grinned, took a small flute from her bag, and started playing.

“What are you doing?”

She paused and grinned again. “Time for their dancing lesson.”

The volume slowly rose. It was a lively tune, and Michael found himself tapping his toe. The effect seemed to be stronger on Fred and his friends, however. They had gotten up out of their seats and were dancing wildly.

Whisper played her flute for the entire hour of after school detention, and for the entire hour, Fred and co. danced madly. Sweat ran down their faces, and they yelled out for Whisper to stop, but she kept playing.

At one point early on, she paused, but started tapping a beat on the flute, which inexplicably played a different but equally bewitching tune. “No more tangoing, right?” she asked them.

“What?”

She sighed. “You’re going to stop being jerks.”

“I’ll tear your wings off,” said Fred, and Whisper sighed and played faster.

She waited until halfway through, and tried again. “Perhaps you’d like to reconsider my request?”

“What request?” asked Fred.

“No more tangoing.”

“I’m never gonna dance again.”

“You’re not going to pick on anyone anymore?”

Fred and his friends all nodded. “Now, please let us stop.”

“Hmmm, I’ll think about it,” said Whisper, and went back to playing.

~

When after school detention was over, Whisper put the flute away, the music stopped, and Fred and his friends collapsed painfully into their chairs. “Remember our agreement,” she said, grinning. They all nodded.

Michael walked home, Whisper flying at his shoulder. “Still think humans are fun?” he asked.

She smiled. “That was lots of fun!”

He smiled back. “Yeah, it was.”

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



In

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.





Pete 1108 words

It was the school holidays, and Mariam and Omar were playing in the pyramid behind their house. Their parents had occasionally told them not to play in the pyramid, on account of the architects had probably left a bunch of death traps, and also there were mummy’s curses to be contended with, and snakes and bugs and such, but they’d found that with a bunch of rocks, and rope, and long sticks and such, they managed to trip the traps while they were conveniently not in them. As to the mummy’s curse, they just didn’t open any sarcophagi, because after all, who wanted to look at some old dead pharaoh anyway? Gross. And Mariam had her snake handling badge, so they were pretty sure they had the creepy crawlies covered.

They’d already gotten past some spike pits and a corridor with spinning blades, and walked past some sarcophagi without attempting to open them. Omar leaned against a wall. ‘You know, this pyramid exploring business is hard work.’

Mariam nodded. ‘It’s a good thing we packed provisions.’ She took a sip of water and looked around the room they were in. ‘I really expected for us to find more valuables. Weren’t pharaohs buried with their fortunes?’

Omar shrugged. ‘We probably just need to get to the centre. Those sarcophagi we passed were obviously not actual pharaohs, but servants, or maybe just nobles.’

‘Yeah, probably,’ said Mariam. ‘Some cool architecture in here, though. Once we clear out all the death traps, this would make for a pretty good hideout.’ She paused to pet a statue of a cat. ‘Lot of cat statues.’

As she ran her hand over the cat statue’s head, there was a ‘click’, and then a loud shifting of stones.

‘What was that?’ asked Omar.

‘Looks like I just found a secret passage!’

‘Nice,’ said Omar, and high fived her. Then they both went down the staircase that had just opened.

After they’d descended the stairs for what seemed like a billion years, their passage opened into a large hall. In the middle of the hall was a spaceship. “I knew it!’ said Omar. ‘I knew aliens built the pyramids!’

‘Hmmm, can’t necessarily assume that,’ said Mariam. ‘We should check inside the spaceship, though.’

They walked up to the spaceship, but didn’t immediately see a viable entry. Fortunately, they had ropes and poles and such, and they managed to climb on top of the spaceship. There, they found there was some damage, and a makeshift entry. They lowered themselves into the spaceship using a rope, and started to explore. Omar was the one who found the pod. ‘Hey, check this out,’ he called.

‘Huh,’ said Mariam once she’d arrived. ‘Definitely an alien.’

‘Right?’ said Omar. The alien in question appeared to be frozen in some kind of pod. ‘I wonder if we can revive them.’

There was a control panel next to them, which they took turns poking at. Pressing buttons, turning dials, the works. When Omar pulled a big red lever, an alarm went off, and a mechanical sounding voice started speaking in a language neither recognised.

‘Must be some alien language,’ said Mariam.

‘Could also be Latin.’

‘What?’

Omar shrugged. ‘Lots of aliens speak Latin, I saw it in some movie.’

‘You sure that’s not demons you’re thinking of?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Omar turned and pointed. ‘Look! It worked!’

The alien had indeed been unfrozen, and was twiddling a dial on their belt. They held out a hand, then nodded and spoke into a device in their other hand. ‘What’s going on, losers?’

‘Hmm, bit rude,’ said Mariam.

The alien shrugged. ‘Translation difficulties, perhaps.’

Omar stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Omar. This is my sister, Mariam.’

The alien paused, twiddled a dial, cocked his head as if thinking, then said, ‘You can call me Pete.’

‘Doesn’t sound like a very alien name,’ said Omar.

‘My name wouldn’t translate well. I chose the human name with the most gravitas.’

‘Pete has the most gravitas?’ asked Mariam.

Pete shrugged. ‘Maybe I just like it.’

‘You’ve probably been frozen for a while,’ said Omar. ‘You’re probably hungry. And it’s getting close to dinner time, you should come have dinner with us. Mum and Dad won’t mind an extra.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Pete, ‘I wonder how long I have been frozen for?’

‘I’m guessing over 4000 years,’ said Omar.

Pete leaned over to the control panel and pressed some buttons. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Much longer than that.’

‘How much longer?’

Pete shook his head and muttered to himself. ‘I see what I did now. Rookie error. Oh well, can’t be helped.’ To Omar, he replied, ‘looks like about 503,000 years.’

‘Wow,’ said Mariam. ‘You have aged very gracefully.’

‘Thank you,’ said Pete. ‘And since you mentioned it, Omar, I am actually very hungry.’

So, the three of them climbed the stairs and made their way out of the pyramid, past all the death traps and whatnot, and went back to Mariam and Omar’s home.

‘Hi Dad,’ said Mariam. ‘We brought a friend over for dinner, is that all right?’

Their dad smiled. ‘Always happy to meet one of my kids’ friends.’

‘I’m Pete,’ said Pete.

‘Hi Pete,’ said their dad. ‘You look, uh, a little different from most of Mariam and Omar’s friends. Are you from out of town?’

‘Uh. He’s from Australia,’ said Mariam.

‘Say no more,’ said Dad, with a knowing look.

So, they had dinner, which was some kind of chicken thing with rice, and some sauce, that their dad had just whipped together from whatever was in the pantry and the fridge, because apparently Mum, who usually cooked, was out at a friend’s place for the evening, and after that they had ice cream.

‘Well,’ said Pete to Omar and Mariam after dessert, ‘your hospitality has been lovely, but I probably should get back to the spaceship.’

‘We’ve got a spare room, if you want to stay the night,’ said Mariam. ‘That’s fine, isn’t it Dad?’

‘Sure,’ said their dad.

So, Pete agreed, and stayed the night, and waited until the next morning to sneak out early, go back to the spaceship and radio back to his home planet to not actually invade, after all, because there was nothing here worth taking over, and also he couldn’t come back after all because his spaceship was broken, and don’t worry about a rescue mission, he probably wouldn’t survive that long anyway.

And he moved into the pyramid full time, and his new best friends Omar and Mariam never found out that their hospitality and their father’s cooking had saved earth from being subjugated by alien overlords.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



cat

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



https://cfa.org/ragamuffin/

Everybody Wants to Be a Cat 907 words

It was Wednesday, and Allegra had been a cat for about three hours. This had come as something of a shock to her, and didn’t fit with her plans for that evening at all. Her plans for that evening had involved surprising her boyfriend with a home cooked dinner. When she thought about it, the surprise part might still happen. Dinner would be a struggle. It had taken her those three hours to make it to his house, since driving was off the table in cat form. Fortunately, there was an open window, and it turns out that as a cat, she was pretty good at climbing.

She jumped up on the sink, turned the tap on, and washed her paws. Hygiene was still important. The fridge resisted her attempts to open it. Door too heavy, magnet too powerful. Fine, the pantry it is. She opened the pantry, with difficulty. Hmm, what’s in here? Spices, flour, sugar. There really wasn’t much worth eating in here. Wait. Her ears twitched. There was an unmistakable squeak of… what? A mouse? Heck yes. Mouse was a delicious meal, right? Right.

The hunt lasted only a minute or so. The mouse came out from under a skirting board, Allegra’s powerful paws came down on it, and bam. Dinner was served. She grabbed the delicious mouse and climbed up on the table with it, dropping it at Dirk’s usual place. Was that enough?

No! She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t realised at first. There were two of them. She would need another mouse. Or another… something. She poked her ears up. She couldn’t hear much else going on inside the house, it was probably a single mouse. Outside, though…

She came back in ten minutes with a small lizard. The mouse was the tastier treat, so she’d leave that for Dirk. The lizard, she dropped at her own place. Not a moment too soon, either – there was the sound of his car. And she was still a cat. Well, it wasn’t to be helped. She’d make herself scarce. She looked around, but wasn’t sure where to hide. Ah! There! Up on the bookshelf, behind that vase!

She was standing very still behind the vase when Dirk entered. He looked at the table and saw the meal she’d prepared. ‘What the hell?’ he said. Well, that was certainly surprise, but he didn’t seem that thrilled. You can’t win them all, though, right? He turned and looked right at her. Oh no! She must’ve moved slightly! He sighed. ‘This was her little surprise? A cat?’ He shook his head, then went to the fridge, got out a beer, and sat down in front of the TV.

As Dirk didn’t seem to object to having a cat around, she got down from the bookshelf and climbed up on the couch, then onto Dirk’s lap. ‘Nope,’ he said, and pushed her onto the floor. His phone rang, and he answered. ‘Hey mate. Nah not much, just watching the game. Nah, she’s not around, but it looks like she got a cat. Yeah, it was just waiting for me when I got home. Killed some critters, too, and left them on the table.’

And you didn’t eat them, thought Allegra. Rude.

‘What?’ asked Dirk. ‘Yeah, still wasting her time at uni. I don’t know what she’s thinking, you don’t need a journalism degree to be a stay-at-home mother.’

Hmmm, thought Allegra. This is new.

‘What? No, of course I’m proud of her achievements, she’s the top of two of her classes. She’s even beating the men, not just the other women!’

Not just the… Allegra frowned and growled.

‘But it’s a waste of time, right? Her place is going to be at home, looking after the house. Well of course I haven’t told her yet, there’s no need. It’s science, once I put a baby in her, the hormones will kick in and she’ll give up on this career nonsense.’

There might’ve been more conversation planned, but Allegra opted not to wait for it. She jumped up on the bookshelf, braced against the vase, and pushed.

‘Bugger me,’ said Dirk, ‘I gotta run mate. Allegra’s not here, I guess it’s up to me to clean this place.’ He got up and went to the cleaning cupboard. Allegra, however, was not done. She did a parade of the bookshelf, knocking everything off. Coffee table, same thing. She went for the curtains, scratching them up and down with her claws, then jumped up and knocked down the framed, signed poster of the entire New South Wales State of Origin team that he seemed to love so much. When he returned to the room with dustpan and broom in hand, she was behind the TV, pushing hard. He was just in time to catch the TV as it toppled over.

Allegra bolted for the window. ‘Not so fast, you feral,’ said Dirk, and turned to grab her. He probably should’ve secured the TV first; he dropped it on its screen, and missed Allegra as well. She launched herself out the window, landed in a tree, and then scarpered.

She wasn’t sure what her future held. She would’ve liked to finish her studies, of course. If this cat thing didn’t wear off, that might be in jeopardy. One thing she was sure of, though, cat or no, was that her future did not hold Dirk.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Hmmm it's disappointing that there's no prompt yet, but once there is, IN.

Assign me a bird

Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 07:30 on Jul 6, 2021

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



https://twitter.com/AurasBirds/status/1412092539323224067

No Escape 561 words

Adrasteia, goddess of inescapable punishment, looked down upon Moira from wherever it is that gods and goddesses look down. Olympus, right? Moira was seated at her workstation, doing some work. Or trying to. Metatron, the office mascot, was making things difficult. ‘Who’s a good office worker, then?’ asked Metatron.

‘It’s me, right?’

‘Yes, you are,’ said Metatron, and bobbed his little feathered head up and down. ‘Metatron wants a snack.’

‘It’s just, I’m really quite busy at the moment.’

‘Metatron wants a snack!’ Metatron bobbed up and down more vigorously, cocking his head from side to side and staring at her with one eye, then the other.

‘Fine,’ said Moira. She opened her drawer and pulled out a yoghurt.

‘What does Metatron look like?’ asked Metatron. ‘Metatron wants a proper snack!’ He bent down and started chewing on her keyboard.

‘Wait,’ said Moira, ‘don’t do that, I’ve got other snacks available.’ She sighed. She hadn’t intended to open them yet, but… she pulled out the packet of Tim Tams, opened it and offered one to Metatron.

‘An acceptable offering!’ said Metatron. He ignored the offered Tim Tam, grabbed the packet with his claws, and flew off.

Fine, thought Moira. Whatever gets rid of him.

~

‘Whatcha doing?’ asked Artemis. (Goddess of the hunt and animals and stuff.)

‘Hmmm?’ said Adrasteia. ‘Just a bit of mortal watching, you know how it is.’

‘Yeah,’ said Artemis. She peered down. ‘Oh, Moira. You’ve been tormenting her for a while, right?’

‘This one isn’t my doing,’ said Adrasteia. ‘It’s good viewing, though.’

‘Ah, so you won’t object to me stirring things up a bit?’

Adrasteia shrugged. ‘Do what you gotta do.’

~

The eagle didn’t know why it flew through the open window. The eagle didn’t know much of anything other than prey. But before anyone could object, there it was in the office, flapping furiously, destroying the nearby cubicle, and pooing on the carpet.

‘This is Metatron’s domain,’ said Metatron.

The eagle cocked its head and looked at Metatron. It saw prey. It soon became apparent that its usual tactic of flying up very high and swooping down wouldn’t be effective, as the ceiling was only 3 metres high. It abandoned its attempts at climbing and swooping, and started to alternate between flapping, walking and hopping towards Metatron.

‘You dare approach Metatron?’

The eagle dared.

‘Aha,’ said Metatron. ‘You have the audacity to challenge a master of fire! Prepare to burn for all eternity!’

This had all become a bit too intense for Moira, who saved her work, locked her workstation, and headed off to the break room.

~

When Moira returned, there were several scorch marks and feathers in the office, and one of the cubicles had been melted into slag. Bertha from HR was talking to Metatron.

‘Metatron cannot be held responsible for the actions of lesser birds!’

‘We’re talking about your actions, Metatron,’ said Bertha. ‘You burnt down a cubicle.’

‘Metatron is a master of fire! Those who anger him must suffer!’

Moira wasn’t sure she liked where this was going, so she ducked out to a nearby café for an early lunch break.

~

When Moira returned from her early lunch, there was burnt rubble where the office block had been.

~

‘Well, I guess things were stirred up,’ said Adrasteia.

Artemis shrugged. ‘She hated that job anyway.’

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



word me

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Flash: Concert

The Case of the Violist 1205 words

It was five minutes past six, and Ava, who was supposed to do the viola solo, had not yet arrived for practice.

‘Maybe she forgot,’ said Russell, who was second viola.

‘Can’t have,’ said Charlotte. Charlotte was the oboist. ‘She would never forget practice. Maybe she was kidnapped.’

‘Yeah, kidnapping is more likely,’ said Emery, the trumpeter. ‘Or alien abduction.’

They discussed the possibilities until quarter past. The consensus that they reached was that, most likely, she was on the run from the government, who probably wanted to perform tests on her or whatever the government did when it wanted to mess with small town people like them, which it presumably did all the time because there seemed to be fewer and fewer people in their small town, and where did you think they were all going, just up and leaving? Pfft.

At quarter past, a man with a bushy moustache, a large jacket – seemingly too large – and a black trilby entered the hall from a side office. ‘Looks like a detective,’ said Eleanor. Eleanor played the flute. ‘She was obviously kidnapped after all.’

‘Good evening, fair small town people,’ said the detective looking man, with a strong accent that none of them could place. ‘My name is Wilhelm Dunstan. I regret to inform you all that practice is cancelled tonight, owing to the untimely death of Ava, the first violist.’

A gasp went up from the orchestra members.

‘Is it really violist?’ asked Charlotte.

‘Yes,’ said Russell. To Wilhelm, he said, ‘Well surely we shouldn’t cancel practice. As second violist, I can simply move up one and perform the solo.’

‘Shh,’ said Charlotte.

‘Practice must be cancelled,’ explained Wilhelm, ‘because Ava has been murdered, and I must interrogate you all immediately.’

‘Ugh, such an inconvenience,’ said Russell.

‘Shh,’ said Emery. ‘A real live detective! This is amazing!’

‘Amazing?’ asked Eleanor.

‘And tragic, naturally.’

‘Quite,’ said Charlotte. ‘Well, who do you want to interrogate first?’

Wilhelm pointed at Russell. ‘You, sir, please step into my office.’

The two of them stepped into the office that Wilhelm had apparently chosen as his interrogation room. Over the course of the next three hours, Wilhelm gradually interrogated each of them. All those who hadn’t yet been interrogated chatted about how exciting it was to have a real live detective and a murder mystery – and tragic, naturally, but Ava would no doubt appreciate the situation if she were here, and would want them to take in the moment. All those who had already been interrogated were shuffled into another office so as not to talk to those who were still waiting, and potentially taint whatever evidence they might provide, or so they were told by Wilhelm.

Finally, only Eleanor was left. ‘You, please, young lady,’ said Wilhelm.

‘Ah, at last!’ said Eleanor, and followed him into the office.

‘So,’ he asked when she’d sat down, ‘how well did you know the deceased, Ava?’

‘Well,’ said Eleanor, ‘it’s a small town, so I guess everyone knows everyone else.’

‘It says here,’ said Wilhelm, ‘that she was first violist, and also the soloist, which would imply that she was also the best musician, correct?’

‘Well, best violist,’ said Eleanor. ‘The part is written for viola, so who knows, if they’d had an oboe solo, it might have gone to Charlotte, or to Emery if there was a trumpet solo.’

‘Your point is well made,’ said Wilhelm, ‘but certainly she would be considered a better musician than the other violists, like that Russell fellow, yes?’

Eleanor shrugged. ‘Those decisions aren’t for me to make, that’s a conductor decision.’

Wilhelm nodded. ‘I see.’ He looked thoughtful and tapped his pencil on the desk next to him. ‘I think I’m ready to speak to the group again. Would you be so kind as to bring them all back into the hall?’

Eleanor, feeling somewhat confused regarding his interrogation methods, went and did as he’d asked.

‘Ah, thank you all for sticking around,’ said Wilhelm. ‘My interrogations were really quite fruitful. As it turns out, there are a number of you who had either motive or opportunity to murder poor Ava.’

The orchestra members sat on the edge of their seat. It was a rare treat to witness a detective’s closing monologue.

‘Emery,’ said Wilhelm, ‘isn’t it true that you and Ava had something of a rivalry in terms of your vegetable garden?’

‘I don’t know if I’d call it a rivalry,’ said Emery. ‘My pumpkins have won the last four years running.’

‘Ah,’ said Wilhelm, ‘but there was chatter that this might be Ava’s year, was there not?’

‘Chatter?’ asked Emery. ‘From whom?’

‘A detective never reveals his sources,’ said Wilhelm. ‘Now,’ and he turned his attention to Charlotte, ‘is it not true that your husband enjoyed dalliances with Ava?’

Charlotte blushed. ‘Well, I don’t know how you heard that, but that’s not the whole story.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Wilhelm. ‘In fact, both you and your husband enjoyed such dalliances.’

The rest of the orchestra gasped. Charlotte, still blushing, said, ‘We have a very loving relationship, we just like to keep things fresh.’

‘In fact,’ said Wilhelm, ‘is it not true that your husband came to enjoy those trysts more than when it was just the two of you?’

‘We both did,’ said Charlotte.

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed?’

‘She was spectacular,’ said Charlotte.

‘Spectacular!’ said Wilhelm. ‘Well then.’ He turned to Russell. ‘Russell. You were jealous of Ava’s position as first violist, were you not?’

Russell shrugged. ‘I just think she’d been coasting on reputation too long. I’m clearly the better violist.’

‘But if that were true, surely you would be the first violist, and soloist, would you not?’

‘That’s what I’m saying,’ said Russell. ‘I should be. And now I suppose I will be.’

Wilhelm shook his head. ‘Denial. It comes with grief, I suppose.’ He turned to the orchestra as a group. ‘As you can see, all three of these people had ample motive. All three had reason to be jealous.’ Emery and Charlotte each raised an eyebrow, but Wilhelm continued. ‘However, none of them killed Ava. Because!’ and Wilhelm reached up, took a hold of his moustache, and pulled it off.

The orchestra gasped.

‘That’s right!’ said Ava, for it was she. ‘I played you all as skilfully as I play my viola, which is the most skilfully out of all the violas.’

‘There’s only two of you,’ said Eleanor.

‘Which proves,’ continued Ava undeterred, ‘that I absolutely can convincingly play a European man!’

‘Oh, for the love of…’ said Eleanor. ‘Is that what all this was about?’

‘Yes!’ said Ava. ‘Surely, after what we’ve all witnessed tonight, you can’t honestly claim there is a better person for the role of Hamlet!’

‘You know,’ said Charlotte, ‘if that’s all this was, I suppose you don’t need the rest of us anymore.’

Ava shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll see you later on tonight, since we all know how spectacular you find me to be.’

Charlotte blushed. ‘Did that really need to be shared? But yes, come on round as soon as you’re done here.’

The rest of them went home and left Eleanor to deal with Ava.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Week 468: Disney Sleepover



Hello gentle domers. Me and two of my Dome BFFs (who will hopefully volunteer soon after this post) are due to have a Disney sleepover. But OH NO! We have no Disney products to consume on this sleepover. I need you all to write me some stories that would totally work as Disney cartoons. Here is what I want from these stories:

Relatively child friendly. No swearing, no graphic violence, no sex.
Not too much moral ambiguity. Heroes are mostly heroic, (can have small flaws like greedy, lazy, selfish or whatever, and can be a small time criminal if justified by circumstances or whatever, but flaws will mostly get resolved or addressed within the narrative) villains are mostly villainous. (Or they were once a good person and if so maybe they can be reformed or something I dunno.)
No casual death. Death is generally pretty significant in Disney movies, and mostly perpetrated by villains! It can also be somewhat life shattering and be part of a hero's tragic backstory. If a villain dies, it's usually as a result of their own hubris or, if they are slain by the hero, it's after the hero tried to spare their life but they made a last ditch effort to stab them in the back, OR the villain was transformed into some absurdly monstrous form or something.
True love. Romantic interests, if present, are in it for the long haul. They're not in it for a casual fling, they want to fall in love and live happily ever after. Speaking of which:
Happily ever after. Happy endings only please. Heroes win, villains receive comeuppance or get reformed. Bittersweet endings somewhat permissible as long as they still make me feel like victory was achieved.
Fun hijinks and adventure.

A note on royalty: Disney seems to like princes and princesses and I enjoy them sometimes as well, but they're not mandatory. Early princesses seemed to be little more than trophies whereas recently, princesses and princes have been a bit more equal in terms of agency, and IMO the latter is better, so probs don't write a love interest who's nothing but a prize, is what I'm basically saying here.

What I don't want: a retelling of a fairy tale or a Disney film. Even if you pull a Maleficent and give us 'the real story'.

Also, I will give everyone a Disney song. When you sign up, you can if you wish make some vague request regarding the Disney song, like 'song from the 40s please' or 'may I please have a love song' or 'may I please have a song that is bad' and I will probably try to fulfil that request. You can either use that song as vague inspiration or ignore it and just enjoy it for a song, but I don't want you to try to literally use any of the characters or plot points from the song.

You have 2500 words

If you have any questions, ask me on the Discord and maybe I will clarify in thread as well if it seems like a thing a lot of people would want to know.

EDIT EXTRA RULES: No normal Toxxes allowed this week, but if you feel you need some extra motivation, you can Toxx to contribute to some kind of For Kids charity instead of Toxxing to get banned. Also, if, inexplicably, 2500 words isn't enough, you can earn more by donating money to some kind of For Kids charity and proving it here with a screenshot or something. Every dollar you donate gets you twenty extra words.

EDIT: No fanfic.

LOL I forgot about deadlines

Sign up deadline is Saturday 24 July at 6 pm, Canberra time
Submission deadline is Monday 26 July at 6 pm, Canberra time

Sleepover buddies:
Chairchucker
BFF 1
BFF 2

Disney movie directors:
Chili https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g00kEcGh4j8
Thranguy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gi58pN8W3hY
Rohan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOL-EJZjmp0
My Shark Waifuu https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzQig2VIhXw
QuoProQuid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93lrosBEW-Q
Chernobyl Princess https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEEpavnk7Uw
Zurtilik https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yhqfd3DbzJw
Voodoofly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJfUfKUg7hY
ZearothK https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08NlhjpVFsU
sparksbloom https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GibiNy4d4gc
Nethilia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThMwHKfzz1I
Pththya-lyi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dulbsyPiog8
a friendly penguin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZNRzc3hWvE
Simply Simon https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmqcKtD3cnw
Tyrannosaurus https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Km4WiqKtZ-E
crabrock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLQ2sYxktMQ

Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 01:36 on Jul 24, 2021

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Chili posted:

Pre-emptive in.

Placeholder in case Chili wants to make any kind of request

Thranguy posted:

In.

Give me a villain song.

Hell yeah, Disney villain songs are awesome

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gi58pN8W3hY

rohan posted:

Oh I am absolutely in, dealer’s choice of song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOL-EJZjmp0

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Also I added some new rules.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzQig2VIhXw

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Chili posted:

Pre-emptive in.
You've now clarified via Discord that you're happy to take dealer's choice, so

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g00kEcGh4j8


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93lrosBEW-Q

Chernobyl Princess posted:

In!

and just in case you were looking for a charity to donate to, I fundraise for Extra Life, which donates to children's hospitals, and I will make you crocheted things as bonus incentive: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/Della-Collins-2021

This is extremely cool IMO

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEEpavnk7Uw whoops, edited

Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 11:18 on Jul 20, 2021

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Zurtilik posted:

I'm in!

Hit me with a rad tune, please.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yhqfd3DbzJw

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Voodoofly posted:

In. Song me with a good song from a bad Disney flick.

I haven't seen this one, but apparently it was not reviewed well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJfUfKUg7hY


ZearothK posted:

In. Give me a song from a movie that does no apologia for monarchy and has no romance whatsoever.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08NlhjpVFsU


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GibiNy4d4gc

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Nethilia posted:

In.

A song from a movie that prominently has people of color.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThMwHKfzz1I

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Pththya-lyi posted:

I'm singing an I Want song about winning Thunderdome. Will my dream come true? In

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dulbsyPiog8

Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 09:20 on Jul 21, 2021

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



a friendly penguin posted:

In. Give me a song that'll build my vocabulary. I'm talking expectorating Gaston levels of word usage here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZNRzc3hWvE

There's totally cartoons in this clip so it counts

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Simply Simon posted:

in

Give me a song you personally can't stand and I'll try to redeem it by writing something decent from it


EDIT:

'Can't stand' is tough for me to find amongst Disney songs, but I'm not wild about this one

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmqcKtD3cnw

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Km4WiqKtZ-E

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



crabrock posted:

In I'll probably fail so give me your least fav song so i don't waste it

I already gave out a song I don't care for all that much and there are very few of those in the first place but OK fine I guess here's a song that is pretty unimpressive

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLQ2sYxktMQ

Also there is about 8 hours for anyone else who wants to enter to do so.

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Entries are closed. Write good words!

Still after one judge if anyone's keen.

Also, a reminder that completely ignoring your song is totally fine if it doesn't inspire you at all.

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Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.



Hello! Submissions are closed! But if you're late and you write a story anyway, maybe I'll crit it!

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