A Really Useless Post (With Pictures!!!!)

Last night was very cold. So was the night before that and the night before that.... This, my friends,  is what winter is like.  But on this particular night it was -20 degrees Celsius, and we were cold. Little did we know that a frozen monster that was creeping inside behind the curtain of out backyard window.
Our windows have pretty bad insulation. It all happened after we had them replaced rather terribly and even through all my parents' complaining they still didn't get them fixed.

As you can see, the window is a little blurry.
And for a better viewing, check out how it looks at night:

Here is the texture of the window:

Here is my dirty, dirty finger pointing to it in case you missed it the first time:

And now if that wasn't creepy enough check out these bubble looking things that formed. This sight literally kept me up at night, so skip it it you have a faint heart! Click image for bigger picture.

CLLLOOSSSSE UUUUUPPPPP

Yiish now that thats over with, let me show you some of the more beautiful aspects of this.

Water frozen in the act of flowing inside and flooding the carpet.

And the way this house looks behind it.

And

So you see, even though this is the sign of bad windows, and it will probably drench our carpet and maybe leek through the floor, it can be worth it to witness something so cool.

Oh and here's a picture of Thor shooting lighting.

Have a coooool day!

What has become of me.

I'm going to share a new short story that I wrote for some contest just so that I could get myself writing again.
I realize I work best at night, not that this is any good. The hard part was to fit the whole thing into 750 words.

The darkness closed in around us. I hugged my teddy tight and waited again for the noise. I looked around, trying to see, but there was not one speck of light to help focus. The room was totally black. Teddy brushed my cheek, so I held his head. My lower lip quivered.

“Soon it will be here again.” My teddy warned. I nodded shorty. My breaths were heavy.

“Ouch,” Teddy groaned. I turned fiercely, and gasped in relief. I loosened my grip on him. The hole in his neck was still small. Shaken, I turned my fear back onto what might appear. I was so scared a quiet cry escaped me. When I shut my mouth, the cry proceeded. That’s when the metal floating thing, with its lights and all its strange arms arose from the foot of the bed.

It swiveled as it approached me. I whimpered in silence while I watched all its spidery arms test the tools they were holding in midair. It took all my might not to scream while it shined its light at the things in my room, turning around until the light pointed at me.

I couldn't see it now. It was too bright. But I knew it was there heading straight for me with its sharp tools, meant for use on me. I crushed Teddy. He choked in my ear to stop and I stopped. He was just as scared as I was. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more. They filled with tears of fear and pain from the light. I tugged on Teddy’s tail – the signal that I was about to scream. I knew that if I screamed, the thing would attack, but I had to. I opened my mouth but nothing escaped. I was frozen sitting it bed my mouth open, eyes shut tight, with the light shining through, getting stronger and stronger. The hum of the machine got closer and closer.

Teddy! It took him from me! I groped next to me. I touched my pillow, grabbed it and shot it at the machine.

Still scared to scream, I rolled out of bed, pulling one of my covers with me. The light followed me like a spotlight. The hum grew. I ran for the door holding the blanket like a cape.

“Dylan!” I had just reached the door when I heard Teddy. I looked up at the floating metal thing only to be blinded with the light. “Save yourself!”

I closed my eyes, I took a second to decide.

Hummumumummmummmummummm

The sound was so close now. I flung the blanket upwards as hard as I could. As I had hoped it covered the metal humming thing, diming the lights and the sound. The thing spun and swerved in the air throwing shadows of everything in the room in odd directions. I tried to blink away the blindness it gave me, searching for Teddy. I found him on his back with the pillow I through covering him.

“I’m coming, Teddy!” I lunged at the pillow and hugged Teddy tight.

Suddenly the room was flushed with light, and the humming was back. The robot managed to cut the blanket in half with one of its razor-sharp tools. It found us again. I ducked and rolled till I hit the door. I ran through the hall to the living room, regretting running passed the front door. I wished my parents weren’t such deep sleepers.

The robot was nearing, it would have me cornered again, but at least I had Teddy to tell me what to do.

“Look around for something to throw” he whispered.

I grabbed the couch pillows. Tossed them one by one at the machine, who bounced them back at the floor. There was nothing left to throw.

“Throw me.” Teddy said.

“No!” I cried.

“Dylan, it’s the only way! Throw me.” I didn’t have much time. Tears drizzled from me. I flung my Teddy up to the robot and it hit a claw, spinning it, but not much else. I watched Teddy try climbing on top of the metal beast as it closed in on top of me, its claws and needles raking my skin.

I woke up on the floor. It was morning. I could hear the radio and smell pancakes, but I couldn’t move.

“Hey Teddy!” A hand squeezed me hard.

Dylan comes to smirk at me in the window pretty often. No one’s ever going to buy me with that hole in my neck.

My Exquisite Corpse, Try Your Best

SO,
Bla
Bla
Bla
Bla

Bla

Bla


Bla 



Bla


Bla


There,
Now you can see it.

Chapter One: Just Post It Already

Chapter One: Running

All my life, my dream was to fly.

Without an airplane. Without a jet-pack. If I had a jet-pack, though, I’m sure I wouldn't mind.

Looking up at the birds, I could never help but feel jealous. They were born to fly, and don’t have any other care. They don’t have school. Their life is easy. They fly with grace.

Grace. The way people are supposed to move around. What’s the point of walking around if you weren't going to do it right? Although wherever I was, I heard only, “sorry,” “oops,” and “I’ll… uh… clean that up”.

People seemed only bashfully happy to me. So very grounded by what they have to do, by either force or necessity or desire. Being able to fly would pretty much be the exact opposite of being grounded, wouldn't it? That’s what I’d liked. To have been different from my Grade 6 classmates at school, each of whom had their own anchor. It was usually video games or TV or sports.

My friends gave me a share in their fun from time to time, and they always insisted I was crazy for not having much of a video game system at home. I used to agree with them, but I got over it. Now I felt lucky. I didn’t have to worry about my scores. I heard that’s all they talked about, which gave me nothing to talk about, whatsoever. My friends were Simon and Chase. The only two people I really felt comfortable to talk to, even though all they talked about is video games. They didn’t seem to care when I didn’t understand them, they seemed to enjoy explaining things to me.

They were the only ones who enjoyed coming to my house, where I had just a computer to entertain them. My TV was “lame,” and anything else was nearly inconsiderable. At school we did everything together.

That was before I knew I could fly.

It was early September, and I had decided I wanted to fly. Our teachers took us out to the park at lunch, and I didn’t want to play soccer. We hung around the field at first. After a while, we managed to wander away from everyone, up a small hill. It was where the running track was, but seeing it in front of me revealed that this would the perfect place to practice my plan to fly.

I once read in a book about someone that had learned to fly after following instructions in a book. They told him what yoga positions to do, what to say and what to put in a blender. After that he was able to fly. It described how flying had felt. It made me so angry that this was only fiction.

Nobody told me flying was impossible. I never asked, but everyone kept saying that anything is possible. All the teachers said that with a confident smile. We really could do anything. They could give more homework, I could become a genius, animals could talk, when the lights turn out your chair can attack you. I could fly.

All I had to do was want it enough. And what better position to be in to start flying, randomly by the power of will, than a running one?

So every lunch I started to lead my friends over to that little hill beyond the soccer field and run. After my friends got tired I would continue. I tried to cry a bit; maybe that would help build my will.

Eventually I started to jump, and grab at the air every once in a while, but still nothing happened. I tried to push off the ground with the Force, like a Jedi might, but still, nothing. I didn’t give up though, and I could feel myself getting stronger from this endless running during the lunch recess.

Maybe I may have stopped after a while, realizing how crazy I was, but I didn’t get the chance to. One day, I was running, sweat was just starting to bead down my forehead, I could feel. Chase and Simon were on the bleachers talking about video games or something.  I felt like it was time to try jumping. I tried my “Force Method”: I concentrated really hard, bringing my eye brows down, squinting. My hands open at my hip, I leaned forward, tried to feel the stony track without touching it. The space in between. My eyes shut and I thrust everything I could off the ground. Air blew over my face. In my hands I could feel something. It felt like compressed air, or the feeling you get when you push and pull your hands at each other repeatedly. The feeling was gone I opened my eyes and I was falling. But I was falling from way higher than I have fallen. I started to whoop in joy, but I yelped as I fell hard onto my feet and landed on my hands in the grass right after a turn in the track. Chase and Simon saw me lying there. “Jesse!” they called, “Jesse, are you okay?!”

“I did it,” I told them, “I flew.”

It had truly been only the sky and I. 

╞╕╒╡

So, you read the first chapter in the story! At least that's what I assume you're doing at the bottom of this post! I hope it was short enough, the word count is 871 words! So... My first story since... my last one! I'm pretty amazed that I'm doing this! So far this is going according to plan, but you may remember me saying I don't have one, so... I'm not going to try and fill you with any hopes! This is pretty much all I've got!

PLEASE let me know what you think!

YOU are The Exquisite Corpse

The Exquisite Corpse is a strange name for a contest. I'm not making a corpse. But if I did it would probably exquisite, if I do say so myself. I'd turn killing it an art. That line triggers something in your brain doesn't it?

 

 This isn't a competition to find the greatest corpse, is it? I was told it is a contest to find out who can impress Derek Landy, author of Skulduggery Pleasant (...), this month.

 

 My only possible explanation for the name is that you probably don't want to participate in this competition, if you want to live.

 That's all I can say.

 Even so, it is what has been taking up my free time at the moment, so you may not see "Chapter One" until I'm done. Then again, you may not see it at all...

 I shouldn't joke about that. Of course I don't see myself winning, so don't worry, the story is coming.

 It's a silly little thing but the good part about it is that each chapter is short, and each chapter has many possible follow-up chapters, so if you are getting bored, please tell me, and I'll see what I can do. 

 There's no fighting in the first chapter. You'd have to wait for chapter two. But then if you wanted any REAL fighting, you'll have to wait for chapter five or six.

 No, I don't know what's going on in my story I think about all day, from when I wake up, to when I try and fall asleep, everything that happens to me, or in the news, it happens to my characters. 

 It's pretty interesting. I just need to... finish this "Corpse". That's what their calling the entries, right? Even if it's just a story, or a picture... 

 Otherwise it's the invitation to mine. 

 

Impossible

I have at least four drafts for this new post. I have been waiting for a very long time to post something, and it is finally about time I did. For a very long time I've been thinking about what I would say in this new post, and wording it perfectly, trying to figure out how to start it, and I used none of those ways. Nothing like being fresh!

Speaking of fresh...
I have been thinking about doing somthing new for me. Writing short stories has been what I wanted to do, because when I started this blog, I expected people to be bored of a long story that you prolong over a number of posts, so I stayed away from that, and shared a new short story whenever I had one I wanted to share. But you may have noticed I have become very distant from that. That stupid artwork of mine is just faster. I probably should take me a bit longer if I want it to look any good, but I have immense pleasure in looking at whatever I come up with. Because every time I make a new painting, I experiment with new things, and the pictures are like little bits of my genius in a picture...

Last post- no wait- the post before the last post, I told you I'd give you a story about a yellow house, shaped like a droopy cone, which sort of makes it look like a wizard hat. This story was going to be awesome. Awesome because it was going to be quick, funny... But then it became too long. And boring, in my mind.

Now, how would you like to read a full length story, with chapters and everything, like you guys make, and I really enjoy reading?

I'm going to try this, because there've a couple of ideas on my mind that have just been bugging me to a point where I feel like I'm being tortured. I need to write one of these stories. I want to see how far I can go. My record so far is four chapters before getting bored. That was before I realizes I should just write shorter stories.

So what'd'ya think?

HI!

Say hi back!

HI!
Go ahead.

Waddiawantfromme etc.

I have been busy! Okay?! Stop asking me to come on and spend time with you when I have better things to be doing!
Hmm... This doesn't really apply to anybody that I really know of. . . I think I'm just trying to talk like that other guy, who always starts posts like that. . . and writes really cool books that kind of make up for anything...

But really. I've been having quite a blast doing things. This that would surprise even myself if I had just told me what I'd been doing. But I guess a lot of the time I am the most surprised at random things I would never expect me to do, while everyone else just seems indifferent. Not even a hint of surprise.

As usual, (this is the follow up thing I do to introduce most of the surprising things I do after telling everyone they will, but probably won't be surprised.) Ahem, as usual, I have been thinking. Letting time pass infront of my eyes, waiting for the time to set my plans into action, surprising everyone. As usual, I haven't actually gotten to that yet. I'm a little busy thinking. I can't pass the chance that I might miss something important.

I want to try something. I want to TELL you my plans.

Wow.

That was unexpected. Even for -. We've been through that, haven't we? Yeah, thought so.

Okay, I'll be honest, when I started this post, I had no idea I was going to say that. Sometimes I just blurt out random things, sorry. I'll try no to let that happen again.

Anyway, back to what I was saying before.

I have been busy. And I have been learning. Teaching myself. How to make this:

...

Yes. That is the grand thing I have been hiding from you this whole time. A silly song thing. The picture of the black lightning blot wasn't supposed to be part of it. Blogger forced me to make the song into a video, so I thought 'hey, why not put an old picture of how you thought the lightning from the scepter looked? It would be perfect!'
(I made that to envision  the bolt... because I kept getting confused, don't ask how. I made it with Paint.)

  Okay, so the music part was made with an app I'm now addicted to: Garageband. You may have heard of it.
  It's this lovely little app that costs five Canadian dollars, and is meant for producing music but is also impossible to use. Until I found out a whole new way, a way that takes a lot of patience, and a bit of musical knowledge, but is completely worth it in the end.

  By slowly editing each independent note, songs can be perfect, exactly as you want them, without the need of a whole band.

  So this one short, pitiful clip took two days (including breaks), and is only 9 bars. I admit, it isn't supposed to be the best. There's a reason I call this song "Waddiawantfrommethisisthefirstsongiveeverreallymade". I was just showing off (to myself) in the end, which is why it becomes all bumpy and stuff. I just wanted to see if I could do that rising thing, because I had the "Flight of the Order of the Phoenix" song stuck in my head. I realized so many things from this experience, that I think I'll continue making these short things. To keep my head in order.

  Whenever I hear a song now I see notes in Garageband-form in my head. (I don't actually know which notes go to which letters, etc, I just put them somewhere on the imaginary chart thing, and assume where the other ones go as apposed to my random placements.)

   Basically, I learned a lot. That's all I should say without trying to make you understand what I mean. It would help a lot if I understood what I was doing...

  Another thing I have been doing is thinking about writing more. All I do is think. Think. And draw useless pictures. I have developed so many story ideas, I keep adding one every time I try to count them...

  So as I have been thinking, and drawing, I realized I was creating yet another story. So I have decided to finally write that one story, because it was small, and sort-of-simple.

  And incidentally, I don't trust myself to write it. I think I need to force myself. And that having been said, I present to you . . .


THE COVER:

This Isn't What You Think It Is... Maybe, I don't read thoughts.

Happy New Year, fellows. The day has inevitably arrived. Yes, it is now 2013, not that you need me telling you. In fact, how unoriginal this is of me, making a New Years post. You're probably bored of these already. I'm not, by the way. I haven't read any yet save for Derek's, which was awesome.
Now that I've deleted that totally long ramble on how awesome it actually was, explaining what I found great, I'll have you know that this isn't a New Years post at all.

It's actually just another one of my posts that show off some picture I drew, but this one just so happens to be posted on New Years.

And this is that picture.
Who is the mysterious fellow floating in mid-air? Why is he in a mysterious cave with a weird looking opening? Is he a Necromancer, because it looks like those are shadows being manipulated?
I'm not sure. I just closed my eyes yesterday, lying in bed and I saw this picture. Well, a lot awesomer looking than this, but really, I had to draw it. It was like... Like... That box in "the Button" story. It was a lot like it, anyway.
In case it's hard to see, if you care, this is a picture of some sort of Necromancer, without necromancer clothes, which was kind of a mistake because in my "vision" he had black clothes, I think. The Necromancer is floating in mid-air, and he descended into the cave to get more shadows, because as you can see outside, it's day time. Yes. My artwork has deep, deep uh... Stuff
Happy New Year, all!

An Actual Post That One May Find Suitable to Call an Update-Thingy

Greetings. Today was a very strange day. I was obviously unhinged. I was too happy, too loud, too involving. I barely recognized myself. Much like my writing, nowadays. I have no idea why. I'm sure it had to do with some of the books I read over the past few months, and how I barely had any practice in a while. I read a book called the Messenger. Very good, but the author wrote in broken sentences, which had a good effect, but it affected me like a scar.

I loved that book, The Messenger. The ideas were perfect, I understood the main characters well, perfect characters. Very well developed. It's apparently a famous book, but then again I never heard of it before.

In fact now that I mention it, I have to give it credit for a small detail in the Story of Three, (a story I agreed to write alongside Kestrel and Val V, in case you didn't know. I put up my chapter yesterday. It's terrible, but Kes and Val V begged to differ, so that's how it is).

Anyway, the detail. The letter. I suggested Kes and Val V get a letter from Thrust because of the beautiful story called The Messenger. You're welcome, The Messenger. You ruined my writing but gave me an idea. Not many can do that. I wish you were like normal books and didn't ruin my writing.

If you have time you an check out our story. It's right here: http://kestrelvalandthrust.blogspot.ca/, you have to go all the way down to the first Chapter if you want to read it right. You can skip mine if you want, though. Even though mine is probably the most important to the story so far, it will also probably hurt your brain.

There seem to be so many stories like this online in our little sweet comunity, I really do understand if you can't afford to read any of it. But that's speaking for me. Val and Kes, they're absolutely marvalous writers somehow. Really.

My writing would be terrific if all my wonderful work would somehow make it past my brain. It's hard to imitate my own thoughts, somehow. I guess it's because my mind - used to, at least - be programed to be original in it's own way, taking what I've seen and create something new in some respect. I enjoy writing like that. I suprise myself, making it enjoyable.

Yesterday I was really depressed so I got thrudged through almost all of Kingdom of the Wicked. I'm a slow reader, I suppose. I don't know if it had anything to do with how wonderful I felt all day today. Now. It was truely a different experience.

Okay, before I write a novel here, I'm going to stop musing here.
I really hope you all had a great day, and stuff.

Valkyrie and Her Death Stare

Procrastinating, I found this old thing I made. I guess the point of this post is that I need to be doing other things, and I'm too annoyed to do them. And I haven't posted in a little while, so I think that's a good excuse too.  I better go.

Show Me the Picture-Thingy of Skulduggery Pleasant

Imagine some awesome words here, like awesome for example, and gaze upon this picture of Skulduggery.
I drew it with my fingers.

One Year

On this date in 2011, Thrust Ominous, that would be me, posted his first word on the blog. "hey" was almost all he said on that day. A word that he will carry on in his memory ever since he forced himself to remember for the purpose of this post. Not it was any trouble or anything...

One year. One year since I created a blog. One year since I wrote my first comment, "hey." One year since I've started to meet all you epic people, almost instantly becoming their friend.
This post is for you guys, you deserve much more, but it's the least I can do...
It feels like such a long time ago that I was struggling with writing and posting my first comment. It hurts my brain to think about, and I have been ever since I saw a YouTube video about how each year of your life feels shorter because each one is a percentage out of your life, but that's another story...
When I first commented, I wanted my first comment to be perfect. I thought I may have to struggle to gain your friendship and trust (which still is a bit questionable), if my first comment wasn't absolutely right. By the end of the day I finally found out how to do it, of course before that I took some breaks and had a long enough time to make up a name, and take a Skulduggery picture and fiddle around with it on Photoshop.
 My first comment was "hey" on this date pretty much three hundred and sixty-six days ago.
 A few weeks later I started commenting again. I wasn't so crazy back then, but I was still crazy enough. I was sure I was getting tested ever since I was noticed. But to my utmost surprise, everyone was so accepting of me, and I had felt like I lived on the blog forever. Maybe that's why the year felt so long.
 There is always a smile in the voice of the reader in my head when it reads your comments to me. You're imagination is always so original I have to shake my head in disbelieved amazement.
And when I'm down, and I am often, the blog has become my primary space of refuge. Company, laughs, genius, friends. I used to wonder why we don't get into too many fights. I used to be jealous of people who did because their life seemed more interesting with them. But we help each other out when we're in need, laugh together. We don't even really know each other in much detail, but we know what we have to, and that seems to satisfy everyone. Books, TV shows, and closeness to Ireland are all most of us care about. Oh, and making sure we don't mess with each other.
When anyone is having trouble with life, you're there.
If anyone needs to be cheered up, you're there.
If anyone wants to just be bored, you're there.
There is a place for everyone, over there.
You guys are the best, you confound all people who think that there's cyber bullying every where.
I wish I could share with you a story, dedicated to you, or do something epicly amazing that would blow your mind, but my brain is very forgetful, and if I planned anything like that in the past, the ideas have left me.
Now, in absolutely no particular order here are some of your names so far, and what I remember you by. This is basically stuff you already knew about yourself, so it's probably going to be really boring.
Derek Landy- Your awesomeness. Your replies to questions, and Paffles.
Nixion- Your imagination. Your friendship, and yes, your genius.
Zathract- Your art, amazing stories (even though I haven't read many), and your awesome demeanor, and your rants.
Val V- You are hilarious, random Skulduggery fandom, and the fact that Derek loves you.
Eve- You are probably the most funniest, randomest person on the blog, your rock, and your knowledge of chickens.
Sir- You are hilarious, your sharkness is true to the last row of teeth, you are so brilliant and epic, I can't go through one of your comments without at the very least smiling. Unless what your saying is sad, but it never is.
Kestrel- You are so creative and I love your ideas, especially your stories. *secret fist bump (so that no one can take my arm away THIS time)*
Sparky- You are friends with everyone, and have a great picture of how things work, and so it is reflected in your writing
Kal- Kal, you are so nice, and you have marshmallow guns or something... And I won't forget how we discovered the giraffe pit together.
Lav- I know you're not around much anymore, but I have to let you know for when you were, I enjoyed talking with you..
Star- you are definitely insane, nice and epic. I can't even describe how insane, nice and epic you are, so I will leave it with one word: trains.
Luc- Luc, you are so very strong, keep that hope, and you are so very amazing.
Willow- You are very strong too. You have good friends, and know what's right.
Adra-YOU WROTE A FREAKING MANUSCRIPT!!! You love Doctor Who, and ye are funny.
Vlaedr-You are really extremely nice, and I couldn't have finished that second story of mine if you didn't ask me for more. You have great ideas yourself.
Zaf- You are so cool, I love your love of books and craziness for blowing stuff up.
Lynx/Shad- You are super smart. Your stories are rich with awesomeness, and YOU figured that Thrust2 was my reflection.
Em- Thanks for making us remember. You really, really deserve a lot.
Am I missing anyone? Obviously. Not my fault. I am too forgetful to be guilty.
I hope I didn't hurt anyone in the past, and if I did, I most likely didn't mean it.
Thank you for entertaining me with your insanity. I believe it's healthier than most thing you can do on the internet. You people are good for my health. You've made my year great...
All I want is to keep the giraffe pit. That's a thing now.
A million thank yous from the epitome of my soul.

Ancient-Geezer Storys by a Younger-Version of Me: Shesteus

The name of this story is Sheteus. It was writen last year for school. Which is why it is a finished story. My teacher hated it happily giving no consideration to the fact that I was the only one who even WROTE a story.
Enjoy.

Once upon a time there was a boy named Shesteus. He was just your average boy you would find in the city of Thud, which is where he lived. Shesteus was raised by a mom and a dad. He went to school usually, his long brown hair attracted a lot of girls, and he trained to fight with a sword. He was very confident about his fighting skills which would eventually lead to his down fall, but that’s another story. His family wasn’t so rich so he had to help out with gaining some of their livings.

He used to go out and sell the socks his mother would make, but he didn’t get much business.

“Why don’t any of you want my socks?!” He shouted in the market place one day. “They’ll look beautiful on your feet!” He then remembered that these were Greek times, and wearing socks under sandals just looks weird.

Now, being Shesteus, he was creative. He took out his sewing and hairdressing kits he kept on him at all times and got to work. His comb went scritch, scratch, scritch and his needle flew in and out and in and out. “There’s just enough material here to make a beautiful stock of togas!

“These are the best togas you’ll find in ALL of Thud!” shouted Shesteus to the marketplace, but no one was buying it, excuse the pun.

Shesteus was just about to get back to work, when someone behind him said “Don’t embarrass yourself, fool,” with pity. “Uh… let me help you.”

“OK,” said Shesteus, “but it’s a tough crowd. I’m thinking of painting them gold with this hair die. You take half.”

“I don’t think you’re a very good sales boy, fool. Why don’t you fetch me some bread from that guy all the way over there and I’ll give you some of the fruit I’m selling. And I’ll throw in this barrel of milk if you promise to quit trying to sell your…whatever…”

“It’s a deal,” Shesteus said excitedly, and a deal’s a deal, for in less than a minute the guy got his bread and lost a few pieces of fruit and a couple kilos of milk, but everyone was happy.

Shesteus loved the concept of trading favors for stuff he needed. So he tried it again. Shesteus went on quests for people for money and other valuables he needed in order to keep his family going. He was doing a great job too, and he was developing into a character that was very dependable and always kept his word. “A deal’s a deal,” he always said.

One day a powerful island called Terex, which was known for its heavy duty products, army and the accidental nuclear mutations which take place in the factories, declared war on Thud because their king, Sonim was bored. Thud was tired of this happening every few years, so the whole city agreed to make a treaty with the king of Terex.

“You know about that crazy mutated moose-bear we keep in the basements of the factories?” Sonim said to the king of Thud, Arpo.

“Yes, it used to be a man but he accidentally mutated himself and somehow became the moose-bear that loves to eat little children.”

“Yes… He loves the little ones. That is why I’m going to make you an offer. You send me two boys and two girls every two years for us to feed the moose-bear and let us call you Looser Ville for all eternity, and then we will stop attacking you when I am bored.”

“How about we give you 6 boys and girls every eight years, and drop the name?”

“Seven boys and girls, and I’ll even throw in an extra year, and then we can drop the name.”

“Deal.”

So even as Arpo walked away from that meeting feeling a bit confused , he knew, just as Shesteus always says: A deal’s a deal.

So when nine years was up, Shesteus was very confident that he could kill the moose-bear, so he volunteered to go to be killed in Terex.

When the boat finally docked, all the fourteen moose-bear-diner to-be’s were invited to the kings castle, where they were forced to enjoy themselves, have a final meal, and were given a supposedly encouraging, heartwarming speech from Sonim about how they were heroes and should be proud of themselves.

The king’s pet, a platypus-wolf, had a different perspective on how they could be heroes. It saw how confident Shesteus looked, so it decided to approach him.

 He somehow wrote a note and put it under Shesteus’s pillow while he was sleeping. It said to meet it early in the morning by the entrance to the basements and it would help him. In return, Shesteus would have to take him off the island so that everyone can look at its gloriousness.

Shesteus met the platypus-wolf at the entrance to the basement a few hours before they were to be sent into its depths. The platypus-wolf gave him a sword, a few lanterns and candles, and a huge ball of string, which he would tie to the door and would use to find his way back once the moose-bear was dead.  

“And remember, you must bring me off this island so that everyone can bask in my gloriousness.” The platypus-wolf said his human voice strangled between a crackle and wolf.

“A deal is a deal,” Shesteus said.

 

Shesteus and his fellow girls and boys were hoven into the darkness of the factory basements. As soon as the first few lanterns were lit, their eyes were opened up to a long endless tunnel.

“Wow,” said some of Shesteus’s associates.

“You stay here. I’ll go down there and kill the moose-bear, then we’ll all be free!” said Shesteus

“What’s the yarn for?” asked someone.

“It will help me find my way back here when I’ve killed the monster,”

“What if you die?”

“I’m not gonna die.”

“How ‘bout you hold the yarn really tight, so that if the string in our view falls to the ground we know we’ve lost hope?”

“What if I drop it?”

“We’ll think your dead.”

“See, what if I’m not?”

“I donno! Am I supposed to know everything?”

Shesteus sighed “Just be safe and stay over here. That’s all you need to do. Light your lamps and torches when you need to. Each one should last about an hour.”

“And we’ve got one… two… three… four… of them,” said a boy, with a match in his hand “so that means we’ve got four hours!” He lit them and watched the flames dance with a grin.

“It doesn’t work that way if they’re all lit at the same time!” said a girl taking three and smothering the flames.

“OK, you just keep each other company, don’t move, and make sure the string doesn’t dislodge from the door,” and Shesteus walked away sword and light steady.

Half an hour later the boys and girls were talking and noticed the string fall to the floor. They didn’t move.

“He’s dead!”  The girl who argued with Shesteus exclaimed.

It took a whole five minutes, but the boys and girls cheered as the string jolted.

It took another twenty minutes, but Shesteus emerged into the children’s light, he’d dropped all of his.

“We thought you were dead!” said the girl who shouted Shesteus was dead.

“You thought he was dead,” said another girl to her.

“I did too,” Shesteus intervened. “I nearly drowned in the monster’s stomach fluids, but luckily I slashed myself out. Here’s his pancreas!”

“What do we do now?” asked a boy.

“We’re free!” said Shesteus.

“Yay, I feel so free behind this locked door inside this dark dungeon!”

“I guess we have to wait for the platypus-wolf.”

A few hours later, halfway through an annoying song about a pigeon, the door opened and the platypus-wolf poked its head in “Oops,” it said a little sarcastically, “Must’ve lost track of time.”

“Yeah,” said Shesteus, “You must’ve, because you would never make me sit through those horrible songs for a really long time.”

“Um… Uh… yes – exactly. Now, come quickly, our boat is waiting.”

Under the command of Shesteus, the boat sailed toward Thud for a few days. Shesteus wasn’t happy, however. He was mad at the platypus-wolf for making him sit through those annoying songs, and he was sure the platypus-wolf had something planned. He didn’t know what, but he was sure there was something.

He went to the platypus-wolf’s cabin. It was sleeping softly. He decided to do it. He had to. It would be better for everyone.  

He docked near a deserted island, and put the sleeping platypus-wolf on the beach. He made all of his friends watch its gloriousness, because after all a deal’s a deal.

Soo, yeah..
I hope you noticed that it is a ripoff of Theseus and the minotaur. And that Shesteus is just an anagram of Theseus. And that YOU loved it. And will get your pitchforks ready if  I ever need you.
I referenced a load of random stuff in this story, mainly from Avatar. The chaces just kept popping up. And last of all... It feels weird writing a post title that long.

Pensive: Writting Ideas. (an actual legitimate boring post)

I have been killing myself over the last few weeks set on the idea that I suck. This is false. Yes, I've been thinking that, but I do not suck unless I have to. I get pissed off at myself for thinking it.
The following is my boring view one thing in particular that makes me feel stupid. This is mostly meant for myself, however you may find it encouraging aswell. You may even find it offensive. You may even fall asleep. You're brain may explode. It's all up to you.

I always find myself killing myself over a good idea to write about, because I've always got to write the best story in the world.
I always need something new, something creative. It must be something no one's ever done, and it's gotta be because it was just way too awesome for them to think of. I'd start to rack my brain pushing aside different ideas that are just wisps of vague parts of my life that I am too terrified to mess around with due to my fear of confusing myself. I find my fear is not so much confusing myself as it is more of starting anything I'm worried I won't finish. I find that before I start thinking about what I confuse myself about, I think confusing myself as a rather amusing pastime.

Sometimes I get good ideas I'm too scared to even try answering my questions about. Often I'd get scared that my choices will alter the non existent story that goes along with it. Sometimes I won't bother killing myself over how to make a small secret society of males and females live together without being married and with out getting too out of hand in a way I can't control.

Decisions are one of the hardest things for me to make. It's hilarious. For some reason I feel like I have to have the whole entire story down in my head before I can start writing, before I find  out there has to be a perfect middle.

There's always something that stops me from doing anything. I've come to one solution. Don't stop. It sounds really tough, and I'm gritting my teeth as I write this, because I know it it will be tough, but I'm going to write a story. A real story. Just like my old amazing ones.

Lord Vlaedr, (big fan of your comments, by the way,) you know why my past two stories were so new and fresh, and admitably, humbly awesome? Because I wrote on what was on my mind. Those ideas were a lucky two which I actually liked. They were simple and easy to remember. Not once (I'm lying a bit here) did I have to stop to rack my brain for an answer, because there were almost no answers to give. But I saw I developed the story for myself I invented new things that mattered.

What I'm getting at is your ideas should be written down before you lose them in the incredible mind. Do not worry about details until they present themselves to you.

These are the rules I'd like to be going by for the next new- ahem, uh, one of them- story I put up. If there is one.

I think you should read this

Writing to epic music is epic.
Especially when the epic music is completely awesome.
This is something I wrote in five seconds while listening to music.

Day is not night and night is too dark to be day, but today no one could tell the difference, no one knew why, and no one cared.

In conclusion epic people listen to epic music while writing epicness.

A Story I Would NEVER Write

You say you would never write this story? Why not? You just wouldn't? Okay, okay, I get you... SO WHY DID YOU?! You wrote it, because you would never write it? One story, two parts. Separeted by a squiggle. And all the characters have Irish accents? You're right they are awesome.

O negative

By night they traveled, and by day they rested. Because they could be seen by day. And they were easily sun burned. And few places for shelter were big or dark enough to protect them. Every time they traveled, they sometimes had to stop short of their preferred distance to settle in a nice cave for the day, because the plains of the Magical Candy Kingdom of Death and Power and Doom are neatly mown small wavy hills, with few trees. And caves are even rarer.

In the cover of their safe-spot, they would take the little rest the needed, and gather energy while munching on the Fruit Loops they packed of the journey.  Because everyone knows that the only other thing vampires can compare to blood is Fruit Loops, and cats.

“We shouldn’t be far off” said a skinny, pale skinned, dark haired, female vampire. Crystella. “Maybe a night”

“If we’re lucky. This cave was a pretty fortunate find; we can actually have room to breathe different air. But we stopped too short; the sun won’t rise for another hour,” said a tall, broad shouldered, pale vampire man, Shayne, his dark eyes carefully selecting his next Fruit Loop. Red. He held it up in the darkness studying it, again with his dark eyes, and ate it.

“This is getting unnerving. If we weren’t nearly there, I’d say that our journey is almost not worth the discomfort"
"Keep your eyes on the prize, Crystella, tomorrow all of this will have been made worthwhile.”

When the sky finally turned colours, from blue, to blood red, the sun had made most of its way under the horizon; they set off, making their silent sprint westward.

Peripheral vision blurred, the vampires had their eyes on nothing but their destination, a castle, small but growing quickly with their approach.

All of a sudden the sky was tainted orange, and the vampires fell to their knees frantically digging a wide enough pit in a sloping hill in front of them. The sun was making its slow ascent beside the castle.

"NOOOO" Crystella howled,"NO! We were SO close. SO close! Maybe only five seconds away! Five!"
"In which time we could be cinders, Crystella, keep digging!"

They were safely hidden inside their burrow by the time the sky was pink, and they began to wait for the sun to fall. But today would be different.

"We were there!" Crystella hissed, "I can almost taste it from here. Our prize."

"I know, Crystella, me too. We have to stay in here though." Shayne said, sadly.

"But wouldn't it be great if we could just dash up there, just in time to avoid getting scorched?"

"Like a dream, Crystella, too great. We can't take any of these risks. It would be an embarrassing way to loose it all."

Crystella look down dissapointed, "I thought you said we were different."

Shanye gave her a little smile, "This trip would have been one thousand times more difficult if we didn't have each other."

Then he leaned in and started snogging her like a crazy wild animal.

Crystella broke loose, "So you admit it then, we're better than everyone else. We can accomplish more than most."

Shayne looked down, with shame in his dark eyes, "Yes," he stated, then he muttered, "As long as we're not distracted."

Crystella beamed, "It's been a long six days. A long time since we've felt the taste of blood in our mouths" she approached Shayne, "You know you want it."

Shayne swallowed, "I know, Crystella, you know that. But we have to be strict about this. We could die."

"And when's the the last time you said that? When's the last time something so fierce you could die, has stopped my Shayne from overcoming it? How can you let this be where you step down? Where you let someone, no, a thing, unliving, beat you? Where has my Shayne disappeared to? Show me you are fierce. Come with me, for I am going. I know we can make it. Five seconds."

"Are you sure it is five seconds? It looked more like ten to me."

"Who cares the limit is ten anyway."

"The limit is not ten, it was six! We'll never make it. Such a distance. I'd kill myself running if I made it to the castle in time!"

"I'm still pretty sure it's ten, but Again, try to be more impressive, I cant brag a out my tough boyfriend of he's scared of a little sun."

"All vampires sizzle in the sun. I am no different."

"But it doesn't seem to be stopping me. That puny is no match for my speed. And nor is it for yours. Join me. You did say the today we would already be there. Will you allow yourself to lie to me? Besides, don't you want all that warm. Juicy Blood. Right... Now?" She was close to Shayne. Breathing on him.

"Okay" he winced, then a mad smile split over his face from sideburn to sideburn. "Okay!"
He stuck his head out of their pit and looked up squinting. "Puny sun!" he roared.
"Wow, slow down there, tough guy," she looked him in the eyes, "We go together."

He charmingly growled in response, "I want it now! I need all that blood now! Too long without it! Six long days!"

"Yes!" Crystella agreed, "Now!"

And they made a mad vampire dash around the burrow and over the hills toward the now massive and still growing castle.

Shaynes legs were burning. Shayne's everything was burning. He knew Crystella was beside him. He knew she must feel it too. His sonic ears didn't hear her cry out, so he sucked it up too, and kept running. Eyes on the prize. Thing were moving too slowly, he wasn't covering as much ground as he'd like to. Then again, only half a second had passed. He felt a hot, burning sensation overcome him, yet he didn't stop running, eyes staying open until it started to strengthen, his muscles tightened, his energy anaerobic, he allowed himself to blink. There was a massive snapping noise, and the world toppled over. Or was that him? Yes it was him. And the crack was a tree, now splinters; he had tripped over the tree trunk. He looked up to see Crystella, doubled over. He could hear a high pitch whistle, which came with the burning, but even over that, he could hear her cackles.

"You think I would let you take my prize, Shayne? I'm not sharing it with a fool like you."

She smirked at Shayne, but he could not do anything; he was too exausted. And the PAIN. Perhaps those were the reason she was laughing.

"But since Shayne, I did love you, I will tell you that I have cheated you. I am in fact wearing sunscreen. You were right though," she watched him, "it was six se-..."

Her voice was droned out by now. The flames erupted from under his epidermis, then he blew away in the wind, leaving the smoldering tree stomp behind.

Crystella pondered on what she had done. She killed her boyfriend the bond was definitely broken, she could be weaker now. She felt weaker. She was sad.

"I will avenge you, Shanye. I did love you."

She turned to the castle, and tore the metal gate apart.

              ~


Inside the damp corridors of the enormous castle, Crystella sprinted silently sniffing out her prey. The smell was masked, she could smell the putrid garlic they used to mask it, but the fool still allowed himself to show her the way.

No one had seen her so far, and she was almost there, she hoped no one would find her. She wanted her catch to be the first thing on the menu.

She stopped in front a large pair of doors. Chains of garlic hung from them. They think I cannot touch it, she smiled. Okay, I'll play along, for now.

The doors cracked as the vampire burst into a giant ballroom holding a big torch and bracket.

Someone let out a high pitch scream.

Crystella stabbed the prongs at the end of the bracket to send attackers flying thirty feet in the air, slapping the ceiling and plummeting with a sickening crash to the marble floor.

Crystella took strings of garlic off a wall and covered the bodies with them. She didnt want their blood tainting the air, or drawing her attention.

She faced the last man standing. He hadn't attacked. His name was Collomere Persnickety, and he was the reason she was here.

"I was expecting you," he said. The man was dressed uncomfortably. He probably wore that armor those Long Johns, and that ridiculous scarf all day and night. Expecting. "They told me you were coming. Though I am surprised you arrived so... Early in the day."

"So it's true? All those tales, we followed... Our efforts were not fruitless."

"Maybe," he said.

"Do not try and hide from me what I will inevitably find out! Of course you are the one. I can smell it. You have pure blood running though your veins. The purest of them all, I can feel it even over all this garlic. And now it's mine!"

"They helped me get ready. And I am prepared for you."

"Yes, I can sense that too. All you need to defeat a vampire is a pair of really ugly tights."

Then she ripped forward as he was trying to think of a remark, and thrashed her claws at his face. He pairied them with a sword he'd been hiding, and he gave another swing. She ducked and dodged him with amazing speed. Getting behind him she clawed at his armor, openning it uncovering more layers of clothing. He tried to keep the armor on but it fell, and he kept fighting, aiming for anything vampire.

She returned the favor with lashes to every part of his body. He had so many layers of clothes, he must have been a twig without them.

Finally, she got his face. Gashes from hair to chin.

She pulled off his scarfs revealing a steel cervical collar. She ripped it off with ease, then felt the sword come down in her side. She slashed downward and the sword fell.

Crystella leapped up and kicked out her legs. She landed lightly as Persnickety toppled onto his back. She dove for the kill, and an arrow penetrated her thigh.

Looking up she saw a hooded archerer, standing on a balcony arrow notched in bow, ready to shoot again.

Crystella unstuck the arrow, and went down again for Persnickety. Her sonic hearing knew the next one was coming. She whirled around and the arrow penetrated Persnickety's stomach. She was holding him up and could nt help herself. She bit down into his twiggy neck. The blood. Oh it was good to drink blood again. Finally after a long six days.

So this is what pure blood tastes like. Without the added proteins. A good experience, but it tasted too... Plain.

She dropped Persnickety licking her lips, she picked up her torch and bracket, throwing it out at the balcony intercepting the next arrow and sticking itself into the archerer.

She licked the blood off Persnickety's hands, and finished up, deciding she doesn't particularly like O negative blood as much as the protein-filled type.

I'll stay a while, she thought, try and clean up. There's sure to be someone around here with AB positive blood somewhere.