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.