geekhyena asked: Sloe gin fizzes were like a grown-up version of a milkshake - sweet and creamy and too easy to overindulge on. Much to her dismay the next morning.
It wasn’t the usual “one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor” kind of headache. Those could usually be dealt with by a Tums, a Tylenol, and two bottles of gatorade.
This was knives-in-the-head painful.
Euw. Her entire left side was sticky.
And she was lying on a lot of sharpish, hard, painful objects.
Did she fall asleep in a Lego bin again?
She risked opening an eye.
An abominably cheerful metal face was staring back at her. It blinked, grinned, and vanished from her view of a gravel driveway.
"She’s not de-dead, guys!"
Blink. Try to focus. Fail. There was a tastefully appointed garden. The aforementioned gravel drive. A freaking mansion in the best Victor Frankenstein/Frank N. Furter/Edward Scissorhands style gothic heap.
And a small robotic giraffe gambolling on the lawn, leaving happy puffs of steam in its wake.
A man in a dapper suit approached with a tray. As he got closer, she could make out that he, too, was metal. Chrome. And, ridiculously, almost as sexy as his fleshy counterpart in her previous reality.
Bless his metal heart, he had gatorade and painkillers.
"When I dream," she slurred, "I go all out…" It had to be a dream. Occam’s razor wouldn’t allow for anything less.
"Sip slowly," said The Spine in his delicious velvety Bass. "You organics have easily disrupted systems."
"This is not real." Oh yes. The gatorade was already helping. "Walter Mansion is a figment of Bunny’s imagination. You guys are folks in makeup."
She blinked again, absently picking bits of gravel out of the indentations in her skin. The pain was fading slowly. The world swimming back into focus.
The sky was full of zeppelins and planes. And hot-air balloons. And your regular, everyday clouds. “This is too painful to be a dream. Too weird to not be.”
The Spine snorted. Little puffs of steam escaped his chrome nostrils. “Oh. And I suppose where you came from, technology that works is just thrown away for the next new thing…”
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Ri-ri-diculous," said Rabbit. He was up a tree. "That’d mean you’d be ov-v-verwhelmed with trash and facing a global c-c-climate crisis."
O God. She could see the clockwork spinning in his head. “Why’re you up a tree?”
"In ca-case of z-z-z-z-zombies. They can’t c-c-climb trees."
She decided not to argue about why a robot would be scared of zombies. Rabbit had a near-reality orbit at the best of times.
O God. She was surrendering to the continuity. She checked her phone.
"WHOAH! C-c-c-c-cool!" Rabbit scrambled down from the tree. He immediately took lookie-loo position over her left shoulder.
She could hear his clockwork brain working. Yup. It was slipping a few cogs.
What sold her was the smell. Electricity and metal and oxidisation and -yes- steam. And that sort of fusty smell that clothes got when they hadn’t been on a human body for some significant time.
None of her dreams were ever that detailed. “Hi,” she managed. “I’m Paula.”
"Pleased to meet you," The Spine offered a chrome hand.
When she took it to shake it, he kissed it with cold, metal lips. And her libido still ramped into overdrive.
"Now, how the devil did you get past QWERTY’s security system?"
"Yeah, there’s this fat guy who keeps getting pa-past it once a Yulemas? I get a c-cool hat, but we wanna know how it’s d-d-d-done."
"Can’t help you there," she winced. Light was still painful. "Too many sloe gin fizzes."
"Ooh, those sound fun."
"Of course. Inebriated organics can do things a mechanical mind can’t even fathom," said The Spine. "Why don’t you come inside and get washed up? That way you’ll be presentable for the cab, when you’re ready to go home."
There was still a signal. But Apple Maps was saying her home didn’t exist, any more. Not in this reality.
"Mind if I stay? It looks like I have no particular place to go."
 Strictly IMO, The Spine is teh sexx. Just The Spine. Not David. I’m old enough to be his parent FFS
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Tony Abbott: determined to move Australia backwards in time…
I pray he’s a one-term wonder
Anonymous asked: I'm looking for an X-Men: evolution fic, and I think it might be one of yours. Even if you're not posting, can you remember a story where a lot of the mutant kids got outed, and it was a minor point but to prevent them from getting expelled a lot of them signed on to a learning difficulties register - Scott for colourblindness etc. - which Kitty was already on
Sorry. That’s not one of mine.
Anyone out there know of this fic?
Challenge #00340: Send Me an Angel
There are two main Slenderman mythos’ on the internet, both spawned from the same sets of images and data, and later the games.
The Second is a monster that hides in the shadows, a silent watcher and protector. He likes the children, they can see him sometimes, and he will keep them safe. His punishment may be swift or slow, sometimes deadly and always utterly terrifying. If an adult can see him, it is already too late no matter how far they run. They have already committed their crime.
A child taken by him is one that will be glad to go, and may play with him forever, or grow into another faceless guardian.
A small child huddled in a dog house. There is a chain around her thin neck, attached to a post in the middle of the yard. The water bowl by the plastic shelter has frozen over. There are bruises over most of her body, and her knuckles are broken and bloody from cracking the ice to get a drink. She is barefoot, dressed only in a T-shirt and thin jeans.
Snow begins to fall.
Her desperate attempts to keep quiet. The shiver in her muted ululations.
Her unvoiced prayer for an angel.
The next best thing.
She hated being called Simon. Daddy had found her notebook with the E sticker on the end of her name and had gone all out. He said she deserved it. He said she was an abomination for wanting to be a girl.
She tried to explain, but the PVC pipe kept coming down on her body. Driving the devil out of her, he said.
All she tried to tell him was that she was really a girl all along.
And now she was in the yard until she stopped crying.
She remembered thinking that, if there was a kind and loving god, He would send an Angel to make everything better.
And then… the angel came.
He looked like a tall man in a dark suit. Except there was no face. Just a featureless white orb. He tried to take the chain off.
She shook her head. “Daddy says I’m a dog until I man up.”
The Angel didn’t speak. It never made a sound. But Simon got the feeling of great sadness and great anger. His clawed hands reached into his suit and bought out a golden envelope. Showed her how to open it into two magic, thin blankets that helped keep the cold out.
The razor-sharp talons never hurt her. They even took the pain away when he sucked all the bruises off her skin.
Then he turned into shadows and poured himself into the house through the crack in the basement window.
Fucking kids. He only had one goddamn son and he was the seven plagues in one skin. Wanting to be a girl. Shit.
Well, if he wanted to be another bitch, he could stay in the goddamn dog house until he learned to be a man.
Serve the little bastard right.
The lights flickered.
The shadows changed.
The TV stuttered and flicked across stations. Very rapidly.
"You/should/ne/ver/hurt/sim/own," the TV said. "You/will/be/pun/ish/d."
Something was behind him.
He turned and looked. A big, looming shadow. Almost, but not quite like his own.
And then came the stinging sensation just like being hit with a piece of PVC pipe. Again and again and again. He shouted. Screamed. Tried to escape.
But they kept on coming.
And the shadow turned into the image of a man. A tall, thin man in a black suit.
By then, he had no way to tell if there was a face. Involuntary tears obscured his vision. And it was not long after that, that a biting cold chewed at all of his body.
"You/sh/ood/ne/ver/hur/t/Simone," the TV repeated again and again. "You/will/be/punish/d."
It was all over but the cold. He crawled all the way to the heater and turned it up.
But the cold still stayed, no matter how hot he made the heater.
"Police and Chid Protection Services are conducting a full investigation following a fire in East Lompoc," the news reported. "Neighbours were alerted by the screams of the child, who was later found chained in the backyard, with only a plastic dog house for shelter.
"The father was killed in the fire, and neighbors have stated that they attempted to report signs of abuse, but were ignored, owing to the ‘colour’ of the neighborhood."
A clip of Nanny Arbest, who lived two doors down from where Simone used to be. “I know that poor child was in trouble. I know that man was hitting on her. Following that cursed book. Whenever I could, I’d sneak that poor little girl a hot meal. Sometimes, I’d sneak her away for a night. Let her play with my dolls, poor dear. She was so terrified… And every time I called the CPS they said they’d send an agent. And they never done nothing. Never!”
"That ‘cursed book’ is the controversial parenting manual, To Raise—"
"Enough of that nonsense," said Nanny Arbest. "You don’t need any more ugliness in your life. You hear?"
"Yes, Nanny," Simone smiled. Smiles had come easier, since the angel came.
"I got some pretty little clips for your hair. It’s not long enough for ribbons, yet. I’m sorry, honey."
"It’s okay, Nanny," Simone ran her fingers over the array of sparkly triangles on the cardboard. Lingering on the one with the beautiful yellow flower. "It’ll grow out. Daddy said it always grew too fast."
Nanny Arbest pressed her ample lips so hard together that they made a line in her dark, kind face. Simone knew why. She didn’t like to speak ill of the dead until they were “cold in the ground” for a week.
A week from today. Then, they could speak freely about how awful Daddy had been.
Nanny got her to stand, and fussed with her dress, stockings, and coat before they stepped out to Uncle Joe’s car to go to the funeral home.
Daddy couldn’t afford to be cold in the ground. All his money was still being recovered from the charred mess of his mattress in the attic.
So he was being cremated.
Simone let herself have a secret smile at that thought. He was going to burn three times, all up.
Once in the home. Once in the funeral place…
And then forever in Hell, if there was a God.
And Simone knew there was one, because he’d sent her an Angel.
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Hugh Pickens DOT Com writes “Suzanne Koven, a primary-care doctor at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, writes in the New Yorker that the FDA has currently approved four drugs that will help patients lose weight but few primary-care physicians will prescribe them. Qsymia and Belviq work by su…
Thin privilege is getting the drugs you need to cure your condition because the doctors think you’ve “tried hard enough”.
I read the rationalization in this article and threw up in my mouth a little.
Challenge #00339: The Thin Man
There are two main Slenderman mythos’ on the internet, both spawned from the same sets of images and data, and later the games.
The First is a monster that lurks in the dark, steals or follows children for unknown purposes that vary from story to story, some more dangerous than others. Some accounts put him at merely feeding on momentary terror, others range through feeding on souls, or blood, or simply creating more slender, faceless creatures
I showed them, yesterday. The gif. The photos. Even showed them the ones other people had shared. So I could prove that I wasn’t faking it.
They know about him, too.
They know. Just in case one photo from a stranger is going to be my last.
I can see him, now.
He’s a brief flicker in the corner of my eye. A patch of black in the shape of a man.
I don’t know what he wants, but it can’t be good. It’s like he’s given up on waiting for me to have a picture taken and is cutting out the middleman.
I know he needs light to be seen. That’s why I’ve taken up living in darker spaces. My friends think I’m crazy. Even the ones who’ve seen the photos.
And I can’t help thinking that this might be my last journal entry.
Because I keep thinking he’s in the shadows, too.
The new creature blinked, though it had no eyes to do so. The computer screen, the words on it, the chair the creature sat on… all diminished in significance.
The fear had gone.
In its place, was a hunger.
Stand, said the Parent. No sound came, but the understanding of instructions persisted.
A brief memory of being shorter. An echo of the former life. The life that no longer was important.
I will teach you to hunt, said the Parent. I will teach you to feed. And when you are ready, I will teach you how to make others - and how to teach them.
The new creature followed the Parent. Seeing things that had once mattered. The last object it noted was a mirror by the door. In it were two identical creatures. Looking almost, but not quite like a human in a black suit.
Except for the faces.
There weren’t any.
They both let themselves out into the night.
They had to feed.
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So I just found out that Apple doesn’t like direct links to books sold through Smashwords. If I don’t fix it, they won’t stock my book.
I’ve already fixed it, by the way. And amended a typo that eluded me for like five edits.
I had to remove the links to the individual stories and add a link to my profile, which is apparently A-OK in Apple’s book. Not a big whoop, right?
Well, I uploaded my new version and discovered that I was at #677 in the fucking queue.
Which means that, until it’s converted, I can’t do jack shit about the tickets on my works… or my entry into the Aurealis awards [probably won’t win, but it’s worth a try] until the new version goes through.
Last time, it took AGES, subjective time.
Meanwhile, Hevun’s Rebel and Scavenger are tied for the number of downloaders at 376 each ^_^
So wait a day or two to get the fresh new version, folks. Or update and see if you can spot the difference :)
And tell your friends the book’s nominated for the Aurealis Awards. I can use all the help I can get.
OKAY SERIOUS TALK GUYS!
This clown has been seen over the past few weeks around Mansfield, Chesterfield and Doncaster, I haven’t seen a post about it on here and I really want people to know about it.
Okay so first of all besides it being really frickin creepy to begin with (designed to look like pennywise the clown) it has been roaming the streets at night time, it was started out by a student film director who was doing it for fun, but it has sparked a few people to take it farther.
Some of the clowns have been tapping on windows, trying to get children out of the house (Reportedly) also it is believed that some of them have knives and are marked as dangerous.
Please please please if you live in these areas or know someone who does, especially of they have kids, could you signal boost this? I just really want people to be safe!!
I heard friends say that he’s been sighted in Nottingham and Lincoln as well. Good thing I live on the 6th floor. Hard to tap my window.
There’s not just one, and they’re in sheffield too, a girl from my year got a picture of one on the road that my school is on. They will follow you home, muggings have been reported, although it is not believed that they go into buildings or actually attack anyone with their knives.
Apparently there is one in Lancashire and burnley too! Pls be careful!
They walk inside people’s houses if the doors aren’t locked. They also aren’t near my town, but everyone’s talking about them.
there was one at my school a couple of weeks ago and we got told that if you see one to report where they are to the police straight away
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN ENGLAND
this is so scary please be safe
That picture is a still from Stephen King’s It, and features Tim Curry in his Pennywise costume.
The real clown looks nothing like Pennywise, and is only terrorizing Northampton. Not that he’s doing anything but standing around….
If anyone has useful information, please help the authorities.