The Writing Thread

[Abethedemon]

Are the hooded figures going to be related to the creepy cannibalistic animal religion in any way?

Not really. The animal religion represents the gods and the flesh eating represents the true practices to honor them. The hooded figures are simply etherial forms of the main bad guy although I haven't thought too much about it. I am working this out though.

 

[Surtur]

Im almost done with my novel, just another thousand words or two.

 

[Abethedemon]

I decided to revise Sarglath a bit, to build on the world and its atmosphere and also flesh out the characters.

Spoiler

In the heart of the night, in the heart of the monastic camp-city Ewom in the heart of Enrakior, a youth recieved a vision. This was as uncommon as there was sand on the ground, for the draw of magic led many of all cultures to engage in religion. In the curved, semi-monastic tent of the fairly young Yor, there were odd hooded figures with chains for arms, rulers clad in serpentine garb and strange monoliths with endless sets of hands. These visions passed and flowed into one another as quickly as cultures in Rarglath became aware of one another. When all that could be heard was simply the chirping of the lizards, a tired yet excited Yor went to his computer and typed about what he had seen in his computer, published it in his blog, Arcanics, did some research about the artifacts of Enrakionian Traditions and fell asleep at his computer, anticipating more visions. This was the first part in his Becoming.

Because Yor was undergoing an act of becoming, he was forced to fast for seven days and seven nights. Even though this improved the quality of the visions, his rotund belly shrivelled in impatience. As Yor got hungrier, the sights became weirder. Now there were whirling wizards wielding flaming flails fanatically, lizard creatures with thousands of heads, and grotesque imitations of man, moaning about, crying for help, covered from head to toe in ritual daggers. On the final night, after waking from an unspeakable trance, Yor went to his computer, published his latest visions and drank a foul liquid known as dream-mead. The ritual was almost complete. All that was left for Yor to do was dream of his artifact, all of which were unique to the practitioner.

The dream came to him in two acts. The first told of a mighty scepter used to call the Realm of Gods into the Realm of Sarglath and how it was destroyed by the Serpent King of the Larzonaks to prevent a great evil from spreading. However, his advisor, Floask, hid the scepter in a crypt, where he rebuilt it with his blood in a personal ritual to bring harmony to the land once and for all. Floask died peacefully without recognition of this act. The next part showed the Realm of the Gods. Eyeless figures danced with spider-legged warlords, tentacled giants ate entire cities and continents, armies of beast-men fought against each other as their tides of blood flowed to create bizarre seas of skeletal fish. Everything blended together to create an amorphous abomination, which painfully morphed into the scepter. After what seemed like eons, Yor woke up in a sweat, wrote in his blog and hurried to the communal mess hall for the completion of his ritual.

The mess hall was the grandest building in Ewom. The outside was decorated with Larzonak gold, detailing the forge god Dring and the spread of his religion and technology. Yor walked into the tent, the sound of voracious eating and scholarly debate growing louder each step he took. Yor greedily stuffed his plate with exotic pleasures reserved for the final day and sat down at an elegant chair next to his friends Erior and Plior, with whom he grew up with. The three had always hung out together, fantasizing about the world and the unexplored parts of Sarglath, judged only as “primitive” or “exotic.” They had always craved something different in life, with Erior wanting fame and renown in life and Plior wanting a form of spirituality to attach to. Yor was a bit different, he wanted power, magic, the arcane in physical form. They were all willing to look past the restrictive lifestyles, even if it meant not interacting that much, except by networking. As Erior and some slob of a student talked about their visions while having heavy sips of Serpent Juice, the Elder in the Pronged Crown handed out swords from the mountains in the North and then cast a spell of silence.

“Attention!” the Elder in the Pronged Crown shouted, even though everyone could clearly hear him, “I wish to congratulate you all on surviving your Nights of Vision. You have shown great courage and fortitude and for that I give you your artifact.”

Moans and complains were heard throughout as the monks stared at the lumps of metal staring back at them.

“Hey man, I had a dream about an axe-orb! What’s this Lizardshit?” said Erior in a whiny voice.

“These, my uncultured friend, are placeholders. If you may look past their appearance, you will find them quite useful in searching for your artifacts. They come from our friendly neighbors to the north, the Larzonaks. They act as a compass to find the true relic. This is the final part of your quest.”

“Hey man, why do I have to do this? I wasted seven freakin’ days not eating and having hallucinations about food wizards! When I signed up–”

“You can channel magical energies through it,” Said the Elder in the Pronged Crown.

Every monk breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now get on your lizard and find it!”

At once, the everyone in the canteen scurried to the communal parking and hopped on their lizards, after getting a tome of spells. Plior went east, Erior went south, and Yor went north. Everyone spread in such a great direction that it was impossible to see each other, even without the constant sandstorms. Yor was hopeful, yet anxious for the other students and what troubles they would encounter. He would later come to not worry about this as much, because he would have plenty of troubles to deal with.

 

[Mourning Dove]

Nice vivid imagery in the visions! Does it foreshadow anything in the future? And how do computers/internet even fit within the fantasy genre??

 

[Abethedemon]

Nice vivid imagery in the visions! Does it foreshadow anything in the future? And how do computers/internet even fit within the fantasy genre??

The visions would be mainly symbolic, but they would also have some foreshadowing (I won't tell what) The computers/internet were added as part of a commentary on globalization. The Larzonaks have a higher tech-level, and they spread that and their faith of Dringism to every corner of Rarglath. In my original ideas, I had the Larzonaks more as bad guys, but here they're more like colonizers. Also, the internet is magical, and created by inventor monks. However, there will be parts of Sarglath that are even higher in technology, even though Rarglath doesn't know about it.

 

[Mourning Dove]

So my brain just vomited this out. It's supposed to be preliminary for the upcoming main piece of describing Purple Man's past of being a sadistic fuck, while hiding it from everyone the whole time so no one was any the wiser. It complements the FNAF fanfiction I posted earlier.

Spoiler: Graphic descriptions of death sensations ahead!

You shouldn’t feel sorry for me. All of those actions I did in the dark were truly reprehensible. As for my wife and son, they were merely tools of mine, unwary of my secret nature. They served as a façade of me being a decent person without sadistic tendencies, and nothing more. For how could a kindly family man ever be a serial murderer at the same time? Truthfully, I had minimal emotional investment in the two known as my nuclear family. And if they were emotionally tortured by my absence? I don’t care.

It was bound to happen eventually, the killer becoming the killed. I must have hidden inside that suit because sheer panic clouded my judgment. I should have known that entering that suit was a bad idea when I could smell the pungent odor of mildew, dust, and dried blood inside the suit upon opening it up. But by the time I was giddily jeering at the specters of those I had slain while in my little disguise, it was too late.

Like an iron maiden, the mechanical insides of the suit closed in on my vulnerable body. The wires and the crossbeams, they dug into my skin, my muscles, my organs, and eventually scraped deep into my bones, searching for the marrow. My body shuddered violently in response to the overwhelming pain and blood loss. I buckled to the floor from weakness from exsanguination. As I twitched uncontrollably against the wall, the encompassing pain faded into dullness, and my consciousness faded into nothingness.

At some point I became conscious again. How long ago had I died? I couldn’t sense time anymore. It were as if my agonizing death was simply a bizarre fever dream to awaken from. In fact, I felt more alive than ever; even though I could not move, it were as if my deceased nervous system were electrically charged by the corroding battery of my new animatronic body. While I could not blink anymore, I could see every minute crevice of the dark hole of a room I was trapped in. And I could no longer feel any pain, let alone be tormented by that from my untimely death. The rusted metal parts that had fused themselves into my mutilated corpse ensured that I would never perish like a normal human would.

You see this rictus grin on my new face? I can’t stop smiling. But why wouldn’t I? I don’t regret anything. This new body was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

 

[Abethedemon]

I finished all of the first part of Sarglath! I need to read it through to correct for some errors, but I think it makes a good prelude to the action.

Spoiler

In the heart of the night, in the heart of the monastic camp-city Ewom in the heart of Enrakior, a youth recieved a vision. This was as uncommon as there was sand on the ground, for the draw of magic led many of all cultures to engage in religion. In the curved, semi-monastic tent of the fairly young Yor, there were odd hooded figures with chains for arms, rulers clad in serpentine garb and strange monoliths with endless sets of hands. These visions passed and flowed into one another as quickly as cultures in Rarglath became aware of one another. When all that could be heard was simply the chirping of the lizards, a tired yet excited Yor went to his computer and typed about what he had seen in his computer, published it in his blog, Arcanics, did some research about the artifacts of Enrakionian Traditions and fell asleep at his computer, anticipating more visions. This was the first part in his Becoming.

Because Yor was undergoing an act of becoming, he was forced to fast for seven days and seven nights. Even though this improved the quality of the visions, his rotund belly shrivelled in impatience. As Yor got hungrier, the sights became weirder. Now there were whirling wizards wielding flaming flails fanatically, lizard creatures with thousands of heads, and grotesque imitations of man, moaning about, crying for help, covered from head to toe in ritual daggers. On the final night, after waking from an unspeakable trance, Yor went to his computer, published his latest visions and drank a foul liquid known as dream-mead. The ritual was almost complete. All that was left for Yor to do was dream of his artifact, all of which were unique to the practitioner.

The dream came to him in two acts. The first told of a mighty scepter used to call the Realm of Gods into the Realm of Sarglath and how it was destroyed by the Serpent King of the Larzonaks to prevent a great evil from spreading. However, his advisor, Floask, hid the scepter in a crypt, where he rebuilt it with his blood in a personal ritual to bring harmony to the land once and for all. Floask died peacefully without recognition of this act. The next part showed the Realm of the Gods. Eyeless figures danced with spider-legged warlords, tentacled giants ate entire cities and continents, armies of beast-men fought against each other as their tides of blood flowed to create bizarre seas of skeletal fish. Everything blended together to create an amorphous abomination, which painfully morphed into the scepter. After what seemed like eons, Yor woke up in a sweat, wrote in his blog and hurried to the communal mess hall for the completion of his ritual.

The mess hall was the grandest building in Ewom. The outside was decorated with Larzonak gold, detailing the forge god Dring and the spread of his religion and technology. Yor walked into the tent, the sound of voracious eating and scholarly debate growing louder each step he took. Yor greedily stuffed his plate with exotic pleasures reserved for the final day and sat down at an elegant chair next to his friends Erior and Plior, with whom he grew up with. The three had always hung out together, fantasizing about the world and the unexplored parts of Sarglath, judged only as “primitive” or “exotic.” They had always craved something different in life, with Erior wanting fame and renown in life and Plior wanting a form of spirituality to attach to. Yor was a bit different, he wanted power, magic, the arcane in physical form. They were all willing to look past the restrictive lifestyles, even if it meant not interacting that much, except by networking. As Erior and some slob of a student talked about their visions while having heavy sips of Serpent Juice, the Elder in the Pronged Crown handed out swords from the mountains in the North and then cast a spell of silence.

“Attention!” the Elder in the Pronged Crown shouted, even though everyone could clearly hear him, “I wish to congratulate you all on surviving your Nights of Vision. You have shown great courage and fortitude and for that I give you your artifact.”

Moans and complains were heard throughout as the monks stared at the lumps of metal staring back at them.

“Hey man, I had a dream about an axe-orb! What’s this Lizardshit?” said Erior in a whiny voice.

“These, my uncultured friend, are placeholders. If you may look past their appearance, you will find them quite useful in searching for your artifacts. They come from our friendly neighbors to the north, the Larzonaks. They act as a compass to find the true relic. This is the final part of your quest.”

“Hey man, why do I have to do this? I wasted seven freakin’ days not eating and having hallucinations about food wizards! When I signed up–”

“You can channel magical energies through it,” Said the Elder in the Pronged Crown.

Every monk breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now get on your lizard and find it!”

At once, the everyone in the canteen scurried to the communal parking and hopped on their lizards, after getting a tome of spells. Plior went east, Erior went south, and Yor went north. Everyone spread in such a great direction that it was impossible to see each other, even without the constant sandstorms. Yor was hopeful, yet anxious for the other students and what troubles they would encounter. He would later come to not worry about this as much, because he would have plenty of troubles to deal with.

The deserts of Enrakior were vast, yet varied. As Yor sped through the shifting sands, he noticed sand forests, complete with sand trees, sand mountains, and even caves made of dry sand. It seemed as if the world was grander than what was shown in the limited, and ultimately censored internet. Too distracted by the ever-changing and flowing scenery, Yor didn’t notice his sword was talking to him about where to go until he reached a flat piece of desert, flanked by nothing in particular.

“The first part of your journey is almost over. Keep on going north.” Said the sword in a whiny, aggravated voice.

“Ah! A talking sword!” Yor nearly fell of his lizard in fright. “I thought you were for direction and magic!”

“Well, that’s where me talking comes in. You know, not everyone has such a tool to use. The Larzonaks would consider me a god! A minor, animistic god, but a god nonetheless.”

“A god, even with all of that technology to determine what’s right or not? In my school, we learned that the gods exist on a plane above our perception, but still can be called by the humans who worship them,”

“All is flowing with the energy of magic. As the gods once lived here, and shaped this land, we are products of this magical energy. You may view us as products of the forge god, Dring. Now why don’t you go north?”

Annoyed, Yor shoved the sword in a pouch of his lizard and rode like the wind in a sandstorm.

Eventually, the land would turn from a sea of dunes into a sea of scrubby mounds. Smooth, artificial mounds towered into the sky. On top of these mounds were pitch-black monoliths that seemed to radiate an aura of civilization, no matter how foreign. Yor could hear people on top of the mounds throwing disks and toasting the sunset, albeit in a manner unlike anything he had seen, even though he had read about it. Their accents, although in the same language, were barely comprehensible, and their ultraslender bodies were in stark contrast to the short and stocky Enrakionians. Some of them didn’t notice Yor zip by, and some did. The hills grew larger and the streets grew more urban as Yor passed through the area. Sentience bars, street sigils and internet cafes grew more common, and everyone seemed to possess a beard. As the night wore on, Yor stumbled across a small hole-in-the-wall litel (lizard hotel), bartered with the clerk, and got a cheap room with the view of a nearby mound and monolith. Yor fell asleep reading his book of spells. The last thing Yor thought of before going to bed was how the monolith looked a lot like the one in his dream.

Yor awakened to the sound of his room being torn apart. Groggily, yor turned his head towards the ceiling, only to find a large black hand staring back at him. Frightened, Yor took all of his things, and ran towards his lizard. With a stroke of fear, he picked up his sword and murmured a prayer to the god Yrium, lord of knives. Nothing happened. Mildly annoyed, Yor murmured a prayer to the goddess Niumor, queen of ice. Nothing happened. Frustrated, Yor screamed a prayer to the extradimentional being Yi’llormnioandiroeromntioamndor, the androgynous master of searing death and vile destruction. Nothing happened. Suddenly, a rain of knives came down from the sky, puncturing every inch of the large creature. Smiling, Yor got on his lizard and rode as fast as he could. Suddenly, a block of ice came down and crushed the creature, breaking it into small fragments. Yor was almost out of town when he heard a piercing scream as bat-things, rat-things, cat-things, hat-things and fat-things descended from the heavens to tear the creature apart.

“Be patient,” warned the sword as he was violently stuffed into the pouch of the lizard. Yor journeyed onwards into the north, getting more confused as the land got more confusing.

As Sarglath impressed Yor with technopolises, death palaces, underground seas and even rockets to realms beyond Rarglathian perception, Yor felt left out. Even though he was slicing through horde after horde of Progrot, Hoemnfent, Ewoen and Guereeren that stood in his way with prayers and curses to the many gods, he had never had anyone ease him into doing such a thing before. His time at the monastery was both too short and too long, in that it prepared him for what to do, but it didn’t prepare him for what he’d see. While Yor was in awe the times he spent soaring through the forests, eating strange food and seeing the wondrous flora and fauna, he was in awe too much. This awe crept over him as a great evil would creep over an unsuspecting village. The hills gave way to plains which gave way to forests which gave way to mountains. The land became more and more civilized, with large cities being the dominant settlement up north. Finally, he left the city of Uronq in the mighty mountains with a hammer in his heart. Yet as he got further north from there, a great fear slowly vanished. He heard tales of great power over the Scepter of the Dimensions, and these tales boosted his initiative to seek it. After days of searching, camping out and fighting off lizard-bugs, he came across a magnificent palace. Coated in Larzonak gold, it had the grandeur and rarity of an invading being from the Ancient Space, or even the Realm of the Gods, rarely explored by mortal men and stepped in otherworldly magic. Yor parked his lizard at the parking lot, got his sword and walked up the shimmering staircase.

Inside the palace was in ruins. Parts of other rooms and ceilings were completely dismantled, and as Yor crept through the place, he noticed the downstairs was in much better condition than the main hall. Fountains of the many gods spun around in pure delight, and the ceiling was wrought in grotesque splendor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Scepter. It was a grey lump of metal with a simple crescent at the top, but its shape suggested a pantheon of colors, jumping to and fro in every direction. He reached to grab the implement, when suddenly, he heard a ghastly sound radiate from the crypt. The floor burst open and there appeared an unholy sight. A shambling, many headed dragon creature swung its massive arms towards Yor. Frightened, Yor prayed to Ilililirii, god of doors, chanting and raving every which where, trying to dodge the massive blows of the ever-approaching thing. Remembering the event from the mound city, Yor tried not to pray to any more gods, instead cowering in a corner next to a globe of the world waving his sword and the scepter in the air. Suddenly, an astral door opened and dragged the dragon and the rest of the palace into it. In the void of howling fear, before all became black, the last thought Yor pondered was that the gates to the Realm of the Gods have opened and that could be a good thing for the rest of humanity, but certainly not for him. He was right about one of those things.

What do you think?

 

[Mourning Dove]

The part where Yor prayed thrice yet got delayed responses from the gods was pretty hilarious.

 

[Ryker]

Edit: book info redacted/too much powerlevel

The book is now out and my chapter has been officially published. I'm well chuffed! It's my first major publication and I'm well pleased with the result; the publishers did a fine job and I've no complaints.

 

[Surtur]

Been doing some formatting and editing on my novel. Now that the first Draft is done I am sending it to some friends to beta read.

 

[Abethedemon]

New part! Taking place in the land of Jarglun

Spoiler

Rom’n was trapped. Surrounded at all sides by dire liches, flailing his bone-sword around as if to ward off these horrid beasts and their unnatural magic. He knew the God Times were upon the land of Jarguln, as the land terraformed into gross imitations of itself, and people had to survive by killing or being killed. Even now, in the deserts just beyond the city of Iii, the survival instincts of the land kicked in, creating a deathly feeding frenzy of man, beast and what was once man or beast. Rom’n sliced off of the heads of the many giant liches enhanced by some horrid sorcery. His slender, muscular figure was getting progressively covered in Death Aura, and as he tried to wash it off with his Bio-Cleanser, he was swarmed further. The bone-sword he carried was injected with an anti-regeneration poison, brewed by the alchemist priests in the High Tower. Rom’n had lived amongst them, although he was too afraid to try the magic and participate in serving the gods. Instead, he opted to fight the harrowing hordes of malicious magic, created by power-high sorcerers serving the darkest of gods on Sarglath. Rom’n ran as fast as he could, jumping and impaling, until he reached an even emptier spot of land. He stretched his hand to the ground and tore off a piece of his flesh. Rom’n stepped backwards and smashed the flesh with his sword. A strange aura enveloped him while the liches shambled forward firing bolts of arcane magic. What felt like hours of excruciating pain were only seconds as Rom’n was transported to his home street in the city of Iii. The streets were made of dried carcasses of Rhinormbols, yet were scented by the biolords as being mildly flowery and pleasing to the nose. Rom’n walked up to his flat, door covered in animal hides.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What is it dearie? Did you find the Pillar of Distortion?” Said his wife, Qorin, a biolord and alchemist

“Nah, I was swarmed by Dire Liches, you know, it’s the God Times, I had to tear off a piece of my flesh to teleport as a tribute.”

“Oh, no biggie,” She said. “Make sure to stop by tonight and pick it up, okay?”

She took a piece of ghost toxin and rubbed it over Rom’n’s hand. As the toxin slowly made his hand regenerate, Qorin mumbled prayers of protection over Rom’n’s bonesword, slowly scraping her hand over it to drench it in magical blood.

“Now be sure to find that Pillar of Distortion.” She said, “I’m sure it’s somewhere in the deserts beyond the city. Have you tried looking inside the tunnels below Sarglath?”

“That’s not a bad idea” Rom’n said as he darted out of the door and painfully teleported himself into the deserts beyond Iii.

Rom’n journeyed long and far, searching for an entrance. Far off in the distance, sorcerers gathered for strange rituals, but they did not care for any mortal being. The desert became hotter as the day wore on, and the malicious rays caressed Rom’n’s supple body as he tried to find cover. Finally, the moon started to shine. Beaten and weary, Rom’n decided to walk back to the city of Iii even though it took a long time. As soon as he lifted his feet from the rocky desert, he was falling. Falling into a strange pit of fiends not meant to be known, but at least he was closer to his goal.

 

[Mourning Dove]

Now with these different parts featuring different protagonists in the same universe, are they ever going to meet up with each other at some point?

 

[Abethedemon]

Now with these different parts featuring different protagonists in the same universe, are they ever going to meet up with each other at some point?

They all take place at different times in Sarglath's history. The regions will become aware of each other by about the 3rd part.

 

[Connor Bible]

Been feeling a little philosophical lately. Listening to The Wall can do that. So, as a result, I've been brainstorming one novel idea that I've been kicking around for a long time. I'm putting Alphaboy aside right now. As much as I want to do that, I feel that I need to get more darkness out of me.

 

[Mourning Dove]

Here's something I wrote for one of my environmental studies classes. It's not creative writing, but it's still writing, so why not share it?

Spoiler: Prepare to learn something...! Or fall asleep.

The biggest noticeable theme of episode 2 of Years of Living Dangerously is the juxtaposition of how different places treat their forests. The people of the more affluent country of the United States fight to prevent and extinguish forest fires that occur in the western parts of the country. On the other hand, in the less affluent country of Indonesia, people destroy the rainforests on purpose, often with fire, to make room for lucrative palm oil plantations. Many companies in the United States use palm oil in products from margarine to body wash. The biggest reason for this is because the United States may be further along on the Environmental Kuznet’s curve than Indonesia.

The Environmental Kuznets curve shown in chapter 4 of Shannon O’Lear’s book describes how a country’s environmental degradation may eventually decrease once the country’s per capita income gets high enough. However, the curve does not account for how the country in question has connections to different places. Many countries have connections to each other economically: they import and export goods between each other. On the Kuznets curve, how could the environment be improving if the per capita income is increasing? Perhaps the country is importing the resources and goods from outside to make their profits. This way, this country can keep their environment intact since the second country would be the one degrading their environment to acquire resources and manufacture goods for the first country to use.

In the case of this video, the United States is an economically “northern” county that has come to respect its natural environment. It is further along on the Kuznets curve. It gets its resources from elsewhere, so environmental degradation on its own lands for resource acquisition is relatively limited. The United States respects its natural environment enough that hotshot firefighters organize to prevent and extinguish forest fires to not only to save nearby settlements from burning, but to also preserve the forests.

In contrast, Indonesia is an economically “southern” country that still degrades the environment to support their economy. Indonesia has not yet reached the point on the Kuznets curve where their environmental degradation is waning while the per capita income is increasing. The palm oil industry is a major, if not the biggest, source of income for Indonesia. Where do they sell all that palm oil to? Many United States-based companies use palm oil and derivatives in various products, including foods and personal care items.

The reason why there is a juxtaposition in the way the United States and Indonesia treats their forests is due to their differences in position on the Kuznets curves. The United States is more affluent and can import their goods while keeping their natural environment intact. Indonesia is the less affluent country that degrades their environment so that it can provide goods to the United States.

 

[Mourning Dove]

Moar stuff I've written for school. I hope you love reading somewhat dry academic environmental studies reports!

Spoiler: Environmental justice in a poor Phoenix, AZ neighborhood

Phoenix, Arizona has a variety of air quality concerns. Many construction projects in the metropolitan area disturb the desert crust and creates a lot of dust in the air. Alongside traffic from uncontrolled urban sprawl, there is also a lot of emissions in the air from industrial facilities and vehicles. Because Phoenix is located in a relatively calm valley area, the emissions and pollutants remain and concentrate. For this reason, metropolitan Phoenix has failed to meet EPA criteria for atmospheric pollutants for over a decade. (Grineski et. al.2007) Neighborhood leader Lupe Hernandez describes the problems from the air conditions. Many residents’ children have respiratory problems, and require breathing treatments and tubes. A perpetual sulfuric odor in the neighborhood causes nausea all day and night. (Grineski 2006)

This case study focuses on the southern Phoenix neighborhood of Homedale. Homedale is a neighborhood in southern Phoenix built after World War II. It was built along a railway and is bordered by environmental harms such as power plants, recycling plants, junkyards, and a busy interstate truck stop. Between 1948 and 1952, more than 100 industries moved into the area, creating more than 9000 new jobs and 1000 manufacturing plants. (Bolin et. al. 2005) Many of the houses in Homedale were built between the 1950s and the 1970s. After the war, many Caucasians left the Homedale neighborhood for new developments on the edge of the city, and the growing Latino population took their place in these residences. According to the U.S. Census Bureau in 2000, 88% of the Homedale residents are Latino and 25% don’t speak English. Additionally, half of the Homedale residents are foreign born, primarily from Mexico. (Bolin et. al. 2005)

In 2000, Pinnacle West Energy Company had plans to expand its Arizona Public Services (APS) power plant located just west of the Homedale neighborhood. Local environmental justice activist and founder of nonprofit organization Don’t Waste Arizona (DWAZ) Steve Brittle viewed these plans as an additional stressor on the impoverished Homedale community, which already had a high concentration of hazardous waste-producing facilities in its area. Brittle filed a civil rights complaint against Pinnacle West in October 2000. The complaint was settled in November 2000, where Pinnacle West paid out $53,000 to Valley Interfaith Project (VIP), which is a local nonprofit group that empowers local communities. Additionally from the settlement, VIP organized a series of meetings during the summer of 2001 to pass out air filtration devices purchased by APS. This settlement did not cease construction of the power plant, but it did begin dialog about environmental and social conditions in the neighborhood. (Grineski 2006)

During one of those summer 2001 meetings, Steve Brittle met with Homedale neighborhood leader Lupe Hernandez. They agreed that something needed to be done about the air quality of the neighborhood. Brittle suggested calling the environmental hazard research group of Arizona State University (ASU), since he had used papers of theirs in the past to help conduct environmental justice activities. He also hoped that the researchers could assist with current studies for environmental health and hazards for Homedale.

Additionally, during an October 2001 meeting, Paula, the VIP activist running the meeting, listened to all the stories and concerns from neighborhood residents. After hearing these, Paula suggested that the residents partake in political action to enact neighborhood change. That is, for the residents to attend local government meetings and schedule appointments with their elected representatives to voice their concerns about their neighborhood. Steve Brittle added that the council person representing Homedale’s district, Doug Linger, could be convinced to award Homedale a “Fight Back” neighborhood grant. Such a grant of $90,000 would help the neighborhood improve infrastructure, fight crime, and enact environmental sustainability.

Meanwhile, ASU researchers were beginning to conduct both social surveys and air monitoring efforts. Their social surveys included questions about health conditions, neighborhood concerns, and demographic information. Homedale Action Team (HAT) members provided feedback to the researchers on how well the questions would be received; they suggested that the health questions be mentioned first in the survey since residents would be the most interested in those. The meeting with the researchers and the HAT members ensured that the questions were both valid from a social science standpoint and were appropropriate for the neighborhood. As for the air monitoring efforts, the HAT members also gave suggestions to the researchers of where to place the monitors. While the researchers initially wanted to place the monitors near the community center, the HAT members mentioned that the monitors would not be secure there. Rather, the monitors were placed in two HAT members’ homes to measure air quality over six weeks. (Grineski 2006)

On May 4, 2002, the Homedale Environmental Conference was organized by the Homedale Action Team. Many stakeholders were present during the event, including residents, local government officials, industry representatives, and ASU researchers. The event began with a “toxic tour” of Homedale on a rented city bus, so those not familiar with the area could see the sordid conditions. Later, residents gave their testimonials within the community center. While many of the residents mentioned health problems that they or their loved ones had to face, the residents also mentioned that they did not want to leave their community because they had an emotional connection to the area. Finally, because the ASU air monitoring research was still in progress, the research methods and preliminary results were presented.

By the end of the meeting, city council person Doug Linger was convinced enough to award the Homedale community the $90,000 “Fight Back” grant for the next year. The community ended up using the grant for community improvement, including the installation of speed bumps, stop lights, and regular trash pickup. By this time the ASU air monitoring results had returned, and they had determined that air was in fact very dusty. Therefore, the grant was also used to mitigate the effects of the dust, such as by placing walls around industrial facilities. Through this grant, local change was enacted in this poor Latino neighborhood of Homedale. Involved in the community activism were the ASU researchers, professional community activists, and local residents. It was through cooperation between these stakeholders and their political activism that the community was able to improve their air quality conditions.

Writing all this stuff for school makes me want to go back to writing Five Night's at Freddy's fanfiction. And I'm not even that big of a FNAF fan either.

 

[chimpburgers]

Wrote this for my business communication course I got done with not that long ago. One of the many assignments that I had to do for the class was going to a speaker event at my college and writing a memo about it and it was one of the final assignments too. She was pleased with what I wrote and I had mostly written this the day before it was due.

Spoiler: Going to see Dr. Michio Kaku speak

As you requested, I am reporting on the business presentation that I attended featuring Dr. Michio Kaku as the speaker.

Venue

The event was held at the Student Center Ballroom, which has a maximum capacity of 950 people. Most of the seats were occupied, and prior to Dr. Kaku presenting his speech, some people were using their laptops and others were texting on their smartphones. Some of them also used their smartphones to take photos during his speech.

There were different ethnicities present at the speech and I sat beside two people that did not speak English. Older adults were present in the audience. The audience was quiet when Dr. Kaku was speaking and laughed whenever he made a humorous remark. They also clapped loudly before and after his presentation. After the presentation ended, most of them walked out of the room and I overheard people discuss what took place during the speech.

Ease of Attendance

I went to the ballroom 15 minutes before Dr. Kaku began his presentation at 3:30 PM. Although most of the seats were already taken, I was able to find seats in the back of the room. The black seats were evenly spaced between each other and I was able to see the podium where he spoke and the projector, even from that area of the room.

Speaker

Dr. Michio Kaku is a theoretical physicist who attended Harvard University during his undergraduate years. He graduated with a physics degree in 1968 and attended the University of California Berkeley for his doctorate degree.

He has lectured at the City College of New York and has written several New York Times bestsellers, including his most recent book The Future of the Mind. His background also includes hosting Science Fantastic, a radio program that airs in over 130 markets in the United States.

Delivery Style

Dr. Kaku incorporated humor and pop culture references in his speech along with quotations from the likes of Woody Allen and Albert Einstein. He varied the tone of his voice and used PowerPoint slides and videos to coincide with his key points.

Kaku also used an extemporaneous speaking style and used stories and historical information throughout his presentation when he wanted to explain what kinds of technology is being developed in the present.

He did not forget what he wanted to say and did not stumble over any sentences. When he made his points, he used hand gestures and made eye contact with the audience for the entirety of his presentation.

Content

He organized the content of his speech chronologically beginning in the 1800s with the development of steam power and the Industrial Revolution. Then Dr. Kaku used this as a way to discuss other developments like electricity, computers, and nanotechnology. He focused the rest of his speech on different types of new technology being developed and what impact they could have on society in the future.

Recommendation

I endorse inviting Dr. Kaku to participate in the Business Professional Development Conference. He has proven his suitability with his organized presentation that people could easily follow what he had to say.

He took the time to describe his background so that even people who are not familiar with his work could be able to understand his point of view on the content that he delivered. This also helped to emphasize his credibility as a physicist and a speaker.

There was not one moment when I wanted to leave the room early. He kept the content relatable and relevant by talking about the ways in which new technology can change how people conduct business in the workplace. The humor he used kept me engaged enough to keep listening to what he had to say, and his confidence in talking about the material made his presentation worth the time to attend.

This is my report. If you have any questions, contact me at (student email), so we can arrange a convenient time to meet.

 

[Abethedemon]

Writing a bible-inspired fantasy

Spoiler

In the beginning, after the gods had made the heavens and the earth, the earth did grow and prosper. For the deserts of Shemior flourished with life, and with death. The days after the Deluge were short and brutal, and the people of Shemior made sure of that. They gathered in masses, in city-states and in tribes, worshipping idols through unspeakable rites. This displeased the Nameless God, for he was a jealous god, and his followers were solitary. They roamed around the dunes off the coasts of Caanaa and the Scarlet Ocean, waiting for His promise. The Nameless God blessed his greatest followers with the powers of prophecy, for he hated the infernal magics used by his fellow Gods. The followers divided into groups, and then schisms, regarding The Nameless God’s views and their theurgic practices as true and the various civilizations as heretical idolators. They wandered the desert, performing miracles in the name of Him and combating the evils of mankind.



One such prophet was Erah, daughter of Deror, son of Solgon, son of Bolgon, Lord of the Pass. She was rife with visions of chariots, insectoid angels spawned by rouge gods, giants, dwarves and hungry spirits of the deserts that plagued her as she made her mission to be devoted to the Nameless God, for He speaks to all through all. She rode astride an ass, carrying a staff shaped of the kings of ages past. Her family dwelt in Aegypt, as she wandered through the surrounding sands. For the Nameless God said unto Erah, “Go East” and that was exactly what she did. She knew not except for to follow the signs and travel to the Unmapped lands.


Upon approaching the town of Savlon off of the coast of the Scarlet Ocean, Erah heard the cries of thousands of angels writhing in the distance, reeling from sort of unearthly horror. Nevertheless, Erah entered the town only to find a procession around an enormous idol. It was one of the Hated Gods, painted in garish shades, bearing a large phallus and the head of a Bull. This displeased the Nameless God, so Erah reluctantly cursed the idol in His Namelessness, as the statue came to life through the hand of the staff. It reared its head and breathed a pillar of smoke into the air. The worshippers stopped in their tracks and began to bow, kneeling and kissing the blood covered pedestal. And lo, did the figure rise and smite thirty and three of the worshippers, and the Nameless God saw that it was good. However, the idol continued to shed blood, charging at full force towards Erah. Verily did she dodge astride her ass, as she galloped towards the back of the beast and knocked over its head with a fell swipe. As the beast crumbled, Erah hung her head in shame and rode off into the sunset.


As Erah continued on her way, the Nameless God helped her smite several other heathen villages, filled with despair and vice. Her visions grew stronger as she destroyed the many towns in the Namelessness of her God. Erah went east, slowly approaching her goal, whatever it was. The buildings progressively got more and more square, and appeared to reach into the heavens, vying for the attention of the Gods. Horsemen, sorcerers and even bird people fell to the mighty powers of the Nameless God. For the Nameless God said unto Erah “Thou must continue to go east” and when she replied, finally asking why, He simply said “Establish a palace in my name, for I am the Nameless God, and I desire to be everywhere at once.”

“What is in it for me, o Nameless One?” quoth Erah.

“Thou shalt seeth” replied the God, “Be patient and my dominion shall shine for all eternity. Do you not want that?”

Erah meekly nodded, seeking out the far eastern lands, occasionally asking if she was going east enough.

 

[Atropos]

I was told that I should post my fanfictions here from now on. This is chapter four of a fanfic of a fanfic. The other chapters are in the DisneyFan-01 thread.

Spoiler

~Gaston Takes Away Marina Seadrift’s Already Loose Grasp on Her Sanity~

Chapter Four: Anticlimax

By Atropos


“You want this back? Well, all you gotta do is say yes!” sneered Zapata. The Beast growled in anger, refusing to respond to the nightmare. Zapata started to wave the glass around in her hand, making it look like she was about to drop it.

“Put that down!” Beast threatened at the top of his lungs. Zapata giggled.

“Not likely.” She said as she took out her dirty handkerchief from before and wiped some rain off of her face. As she was saying that, Silver made his way to an open window on a turret and ducked inside for some cover. He fired off another shot from his arm cannon. Perry and Jack leapt out of the way while Zapata rolled to the side, still clutching the rose.

“Stop interfering! You’ll break it!” The Beast yelled at Silver, who ignored the Beast’s request and began charging another shot.

“Exactly, Silver! Stop interfering!” Perry taunted as he drew out a revolver, and took aim at Silver’s head. The gun looked as if it were modified to fire the same shadow-y projectiles that the Pearl had been equipped with. Perry fired at Silver, but Silver ducked back into cover at the right time. The impact from the shot left a pretty nasty blast in the turret. It seemed that those shadow powers turned the dinky revolver into a friggin hand cannon.

“Urgh! Come outta there, ya fat bastard!” fumed Perry, as he ducked behind a gargoyle, firing off another round at Silver. The Beast leapt off of the turret he was on, and charged Zapata directly. She evaded his gnashing and slashing while still keeping a grip on the rose. Beast almost got ahold of it a few times, but she always managed to steal it away again.

The others were still watching the brawl, and managed to go unnoticed. Belle tugged at Gaston’s sleeve.

“You’ve got to help him! I know we’ve had our differences, but just this once!” she begged. Gaston waved his hand, letting her know that he had no qualms. Now that he’d been travelling across the galaxy in a space ship, just one monster wasn’t going to bother him much.

“Let’s see…”he pondered as he pulled out a bow and arrows from his knapsack, “I can probably shoot her in the foot, that’ll mess her up!”

“No!” protested Mrs. Potts, “She’ll drop the rose!”

“It’s all right.” Gaston assured them as he drew back his bow, “That Beast’ll probably catch it-“. Gaston fired his arrow at Zapata’s foot; there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. The arrow only grazed her foot, causing her to draw back in pain and drop the rose! The members of the castle panicked as the rose flew through the air! The Beast lunged at the rose to grab it, but it was whisked out of his hands by Jack Sparrow!

“I’ll be needin’ that, mate.” Quipped Jack, as he nimbly jumped out of Beast’s reach.

“No!” yelled Beast, as he started pursuing Jack. Silver poked his head out and looked at Gaston standing triumphantly in the window.

“It’s about time I got me some assistance!” he shouted before ducking to avoid Perry’s fire.

“Belle, stay up here! Marina, draw that sword and try not to die!” ordered Gaston as he jumped out the window and slid down the roof! Marina drew her sword out, and followed suit. Gaston withdrew his knife, jumped over Zapata’s head, and rushed towards Perry! Perry took his attention off Silver and ran from Gaston instead, trying to dodge the knife. Silver laughed in triumph and started firing his energy blasts at Perry again.

“Atta boy, Gaston! Perry, stand still, ya filthy rat!” Silver continued laughing like a maniac while Perry frantically stumbled away. Beast wasn’t having as much luck chasing down Sparrow. The latter was much more nimble, and had no trouble weaving along the rooftop and into a window. Beast followed him back into the castle, and the two vanished from the fray outside.

Marina faced Zapata and held her sword in a fighting stance. Zapata glanced over Marina, and smirked.

“Looks like you wormed your way out of the brig.” She said. Marina continued to point her sword at Zapata’s face. “You like playing with swords too? Let’s hope you know how to use that.”

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, but you better leave this world at once!” threatened Marina.

“I couldn’t care less, girlfriend. But I think I’ll just humor you. Did you ever meet my hankie?” asked Zapata. Marina looked at her, confused. Sure she’d seen Zapata use the hankie a bit, and seemed to be attached to it, kinda like a kid with a blanket, but this was pretty odd. “I’ll show ya.”

Zapata wrung up the fabric like a towel, waiting to be snapped on someone’s bare ass. Only when she snapped it, the fabric stiffened up, and transformed into a dazzling great sword! Marina’s eyes widened; she was finally going to be put to the test with something she considered herself to be good at: sword fighting. Her blade versus Zapata’s. Every adventurer had their own decisive battle to prove themselves to be a hero, and this was going to be Marina’s. The nightmare held the blade close to her face and made a kissy-face.

“This dirty thing is mi hijo; how I love it!” she chirped. Marina continued to stay in her fighting stance.

“Torch!” she uttered as flames engulfed her sword; the rain hissed as it hit the blade. The sword was a gift from the great sorcerer himself. Only someone like Marina, the daughter of Chancellor Darren Seadrift, was worthy to wield such a majestic weapon. Its fire burned bright like the sparks in her heart! Her… Faithful heart… (queue rly epic music).

“Kinky.” Zapata mentioned.

“Shut up!” Marina shouted as she charged at Zapata, her sword ready to meet Zapata’s. As Marina started charging, Zapata brought up her sword to strike back. Marina braced herself, and clenched her eyes shut. This was her chance. In the blink of an eye and the clang of the steel, their swords had collided! The force of Zapata’s blade was more than Marina had imagined, and the force of the impact should have knocked Marina’s blade into her shoulder- but it didn’t.

Marina’s eyes were shut, but she could hear the sound of steel clanking to the ground. She opened her eyes to find that the blade of her sword had been sliced clean off! There was a fleeting moment of silence as Marina looked at what remained of her beloved weapon, and of her beloved adventure.

“That’s embarrassing.” stated Zapata. Marina was too shattered to make a comeback. “I guess I have to do this now.” Zapata raised up her sword and hit Marina over the head with the pommel. Marina yelped in pain and dropped on her hands and knees. Zapata waved her sword about and it transformed into a different type of blade: a Japanese longsword. She gripped the blade with both hands and raised it over Marina’s head. “This is how you restore your honor in feudal Japan, I think.”

Marina lay quivering on the ground; she knew it was over. She should just be glad that decapitation was quick and easy. Before Zapata could bring down her blade over Marina’s neck, something flew at her and hit her right in the face, causing her to fall back on the roof! It was a chair, unexpectedly thrown by Belle who had wondered into the middle of the fray, seeing that Marina was about to be executed.

“Marina!” she gasped as she helped the poor woman to her feet. Zapata got up, still shaken up from the impact. Her eyes flashed with a fury not seen before, as Belle and Marina backed away from her. She was about to speak when Perry bumped into her, and with Perry’s arrival came Silver’s fire. The two of them dodged Silver’s barrage while Belle and Marina continued their retreat back to the window. Perry vanished into an open window, and upon seeing this, Silver went inside the castle as well, cackling about how he was gonna ‘get that son of a bitch’.

Marina was once again pushed to the floor, this time by Jack Sparrow!

“Pardon me, loves!” he quipped as he flew past Marina, and took Belle in his arms! Beast followed him out of the window as he joined up with Zapata. The Beast froze when he saw they had taken Belle.

“I’ve had enough.” Panted Sparrow as he surrendered Belle and the rose back to Zapata

“No! Let her go!” ordered the beast.

“Not until you agree to go with me!” demanded Zapata, as she yanked Belle up by the hair. “I don’t even know why you refuse me. You want to ruin the universe, right?” The Beast cringed at the sight of Belle’s pain. His look of anger was quickly replaced by helplessness; he was too far away to rush to Belle’s aid. Marina tried to get up, but her head was still aching with pain; there was nothing she could do to save Belle, no sign of Silver either. The Beast turned his head to the ground and uttered in a defeated voice:

“I’ll go with you…” he complied, broken and defeated.

“No…” mumbled Marina. A wide grin came across Zapata’s smug face. Belle too had a shocked expression on her face, as she began to tear up.

“Finally, that took long enough, don’t you agree? Now you can have your things back!” she said. Belle was still squirming in her grip, “Hmmm… But then again this little slag did throw a chair at me…” A look of alarm appeared on everyone’s face; surely she wasn’t going to go that far. The Beast collapsed on his knees, Marina covered her mouth, and Sparrow simply rolled his eyes (he was pretty used to this shit). Zapata handed the rose to Jack, and drew her sword again; it took the form of a great sword again. She spun Belle in front of her and prepared to plunge the blade into her back! The Beast yelled in agony for her to stop, but nothing could stop her feverish rage.

Suddenly Sparrow yelped in surprise, as he was pushed aside, and the rose removed from his grip. Zapata tried to turn around, but someone had grabbed her by the horns and lifted her up, causing her to relinquish her grip on both Belle and the sword! Gaston held Zapata by her horns and slammed her with all his might down the rooftop! She bounced down the incline of the roof several times before colliding with the parapet! The impact didn’t kill her, of course, but it was clear she wasn’t going to be up and fighting again. Gaston dropped Sparrow, who slid down to where Zapata was, picking her handkerchief up on the way down. He whispered something in her ear as she attempted to get up.

Gaston helped Belle up, as the Beast ran towards her. Marina got up in utter shock. It couldn’t be! Gaston just saved Belle’s life! Gaston saved the day, and not Marina! How did this happen, she was the one with a heart of gold! She was the one who deserved it! He likely didn’t even care about them at all! He just wanted the glory! Marina stomped towards Gaston, but was interrupted when Charles Perry dropped down before her, and scurried down to rejoin Sparrow and Zapata. His hand was covering his now blackened eye.

“Get back up here, ya’ coward! Now it’s time for ya t’ lose your eye!” bellowed Silver, as he jumped out of the window, and tripped over Marina. Perry took refuge behind Zapata and Sparrow; his tail was literally between his legs.

“I think it’s time to beat a hasty retreat, love.” Sparrow whispered to Zapata. She looked around, and hung her head low. She was done with the whole situation, and it showed on her face.

“What in blue blazes are you three even doing together?” Silver yelled at them, as he stood back up. Zapata mumbled to herself, as Perry and Jack leaned in closer.

“Speak up!” demanded Silver.

“I’ll get what I want! Even if it kills me! I am no weakling! You’ve made a powerful enemy!” Zapata threatened, though it didn’t sound so tough, due to her voice cracking.

“What about the crew?” Asked Perry.

“They’ll be fine.” Commented Jack.

Zapata surveyed her surroundings and raised her hands to the air. She took what little strength she had left and warped the three of them off the roof, presumably back to the Pearl, which was probably going to be short of a few parts.

A few seconds passed, and there was no sign of the trio. After it was presumed that the worst was over, Silver holstered his arm cannon, and clasped his hands together.

“Well, t’at was unexpected.” He declared, “I reckoned we were all gonners! I hope those boys I sent t’ the Pearl came back okay.”

“I say we’ve earned a round of drinks!” Gaston announced victoriously.

“Don’t go sayin’ that till we’re all squared away, now.” Expressed Silver, “Are you both needing our assistance?” he asked, facing Belle and Beast.

“No.” Beast stated bluntly. Belle, however, held up her finger and addressed them.

“We are very thankful that you helped us get rid of those pirates!” Belle assured them. Beast just grumbled and kept a keen watch over the strangers.

“Well, Belle, I’m glad you’re happy. How soon till our wedding was it again?” Asked Gaston, striking a heroic pose before Belle and the Beast.

“Married?!” grunted Beast. Thankfully for Belle, Silver picked up on her concerned look, and responded accordingly:

“Now, Gaston, don’t tell me yer goin to up an’ leave so soon without even seeing what the other worlds have to offer! After all, yer the best sailor I got!” This answer apparently made sense to Gaston, as he stood, stroking his gloriously cleft chin in contemplation.

“Yes, I haven’t done everything on my list... It’d be a shame for me not to go the extra mile. Besides, I already promised to myself that I would bring Belle the heads of nightmares and monsters from every world, and so far my head collection is lackluster.” Silver rolled his eyes a bit, but he couldn’t really complain. The disgusting head collection littering Gaston’s quarters was the only downside to his presence, in Silver’s eye.

As Gaston finished, nobody noticed Marina off to the side. To be honest, she herself wasn’t all that cognizant of her own being. Everything had gone awry in her eyes. All was lost for Marina Seadrift, and it was all his fault. Everything was a blur of rotten emotions, and pure hatred. Everything that happened to her was just plain unfair. There was no other way she could describe it.

“Uhm… Yes, Gaston! Don’t come back until you have all the heads!” lied Belle, nodding at Silver in gratitude, “You should thank them for helping you.” Belle told Beast.

“But they almost shattered the rose!” he protested, “You saw them.”

“Well, they got rid of those criminals, and succeeded. That’s all that matters.” Belle said. Beast sighed, and turned to face Silver and Gaston.

“Thank you for uhm… Helping, you… You strange people.” Beast admitted in his humblest voice, which wasn’t very humble at all.

“No need t’ be thanking us, lads. It’s just our business.” Avowed Silver.

“Oh, and Gaston!” Belle exclaimed, “I, uh. I think what you did was. Nice. It was nice.” She admitted, blushing a bit in embarrassment. Belle was a indeed a fair woman, and even though she thought Gaston was a brutish pig, Belle could admit that he was making progress. A wide grin stretched across Gaston’s face.

“I knew you’d warm up to me Belle. Not much longer, and you’ll be dashing back to Gaston! Of course, I couldn’t have done it without my new sidekick! I bet Lefoux is going to be awful sore that I’ve got a new, faithful lackey: Marina Seadrift-“

“NO!” screeched Marina at the top of her lungs, “NOOOO! NO! NO NO NO!” She began stomping her feet and swiping at the air like a mad animal suffering from rabies. Silver sighed in frustration yet again as the rest watched Marina completely lose her shit, and I mean really, she lost every single shit she had. “IT’S NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR, ARRRGH! AUGH!” Marina continued to yelp and screech and bitch and whine. She let out every bit of frustration she had since Gaston joined their party, albeit unwarranted frustration. While Marina threw her heinous, hysterical hissy fit, Beast informed Gaston and Silver that they should probably go.

This is where the story ends. Gaston continued to be the manliest, most competent sailor, and Silver got to punch a fellow furry in the face. They returned to the ship, delighted to find that Panchito and Jose had recovered some parts for their engine, which meant that the crew would be having high-flying adventures to come! Silver and his crew continued to have said swash-buckling adventures throughout the galaxy, all the while watching out for their newest foes, who were surely licking their wounds and preparing for the next move. All was well except for Marina. She was going to be dishonorably discharged.

 

[Mourning Dove]

I know the Bible actually has really trippy imagery and a wrathful "loving" God, but is it really to the extent of your story? wow I wouldn't know because I've never actually read the Bible.

Verily did she dodge astride her ass, as she galloped towards the back of the beast and knocked over its head with a fell swipe. As the beast crumbled, Erah hung her head in shame and rode off into the sunset.

Also, how does she ride off into the sunset if the ass is decapitated??

Here's some more Five Night's at Freddy's fanfiction I've written in between studying for finals. It concerns that purple serial killer. I don't think I'm too good at writing serial killers.

Spoiler: I should go back to studying after writing this ugh...

Many ask, how do serial killers become the abominable people that they are? However, there is no tragic backstory to explain who I am. My upbringing was pleasant and normal as the ideal. I was never abused or neglected by my family. I was never bullied as a child. No explicable mental illnesses are present in my family medical history. There are no definite answers to explain this atrocity known as myself. My twisted thoughts and actions are simply my nature, and I find absolutely nothing wrong with this. In fact, to the misfortune of many I had slain, I embrace it.

However, finding pleasure in watching living things slowly, agonizingly writhe in pain to the death is not deemed normal nor desirable by society’s standards. For this reason, I had to keep my true nature hidden to everyone but myself.

I did what proper society expected of me to follow its mores. I got married. I had a child with the person I married. I doted upon my nuclear family. But these were all simply superficial actions. Supposedly someone can repeat fake actions enough until they become this mask, but I never became my kindly persona. My true desire to cause pain and death never went away, as they have always been an integral part of me.

At times I had fantasized of what would happen if I gave in to my urges and actually killed my family. They would be far too easy of a target because they trusted me as their beloved husband and father. But I always abstained, and not out of any sort of familial love: they served as my mask. If they were gone, I would be exposed for my true nature. The convicted serial killers from the evening news were far too obvious. They were reclusive freaks. They didn’t blend in with proper society, and that’s why they were caught. I was determined to not be like them. Unlike them, I had the ability to hide and keep myself hidden.

But those animals, they were not enough. I needed something with more…feeling, to perish at my hands.