#fanfic — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #fanfic, aggregated by home.social.
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McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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McGruff's Bridge Part 1 of 3
#Fanfic WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 #TrollSaya, the Charcoal Witch, hurried down the road, an urgent summons by the United Magic Association in her robes. Above, wheeled the country’s red and white Gulls. “Nasty creatures,” she said to no one in particular. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have finished this trip hours ago! I could have been flying, not walking.” She reached back and checked that she still had the tassel tying back her black hair. “Try to steal it, would you?”
The road she was on wound through a landscape of low scrub, climbing and falling as it paralleled the sea. The gray dust of the road had settled almost invisibly on her charcoal-gray robes but stained her black boots. Ahead lay the old stone McGruff’s Bridge, and a few miles beyond that lay the Three Goats Inn. White-walled, with a thick thatched roof, the inn would be warm. Saya dreamed of its smoky common room and the hot, steaming punch they served.
“D-mn gulls! If it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying their punch with Elaina. She’s probably already there stuffing herself with their bread pudding and cream puffs.”
She turned to look behind her. Sheila, the third summoned witch, was just a dot cresting the ridge behind her. Saya could imagine the cloud of tobacco smoke that must surround her. It was going to be an interesting night when they all finally met up at the inn.
When she turned back, McGruff’s Bridge was in sight, its stone arch thick with lichen.
Hurrying forward, she was soon on it.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” came a booming voice from under her. At the same time, a mottled, gray hand the size of a dinner plate appeared on the edge of the parapet. It would have been hard to tell it from the lichen-encrusted stone if Saya hadn’t seen it appear.
“It’s little old Saya, the Charcoal Witch,” she responded and readied her wand.
“Well, Charcoal Saya, I am the #troll of McGruff’s Bridge, and I’m going to eat you.”
A second hand appeared with gnarled knuckles like walnuts.
“Mr. Troll, you don’t want to eat me. I’m small and have scrawny limbs like matchsticks. I would barely make a bite for you. But in a few years when I come back I will be nice and plump. Besides, another witch will be along in a moment, and she is full grown, tender, moist and juicy.”
“She is big?”
“Much bigger than I, sir.”
“She is tender?”
“Absolutely, sir. And sweet. Her teacher fed her nothing but milk, honey, and sweet baby vegetables.”
“Then you may pass, but I will expect you back in a few years.”
Saya hurried off the bridge and found a place to settle under an elm. The tree stood on a little hill and overlooked the bridge. Its rustling leaves blended with the rippling sound of water.
“What a delightful view,” she said. “This should be interesting.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
The next part in this little saga, where we see the new... er, old V!
"Can she puppeteer her onto me please?"
- Hypnotic-Ink's review of my art#murderdrones #fanfiction #genie #art #krita #hypnosis #hypnoart #hypnosiskink #dollmd #doll #serialdesignationv #bellydancer #serialdesignationn #fanfic
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 2 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Ace / Baron von Richthofen / Red Baron #TimeTravelAuthors FixingThe doctor nodded encouragingly.
“It was when I returned it happened. I own a book containing rare and previously unpublished letters by Hemingway. To my astonishment, there was one from his time during the Spanish Civil War. In it, he perfectly described me and my prediction. Nothing has been the same since. The experiences grow ever longer, and I have increasing trouble waking. It’s not as if I can avoid them. A billboard can set it off or the blurb on a food package. On one occasion, Baron von Richthofen, a World War I #Ace, almost shot me as a spy. That was due to a serial box. Another time, a billboard for rum dumped me on a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico, and I was mistaken for a worker. The conditions were terrible. The sugar company treated the workers like slaves.”
“I am terrified every time it happens,” I said.
He nodded again, “Yes, that would be awful.”
I showed him my copy of “Three John Silence Stories” and said, “You have to help me; it’s happening again.”
[FINIS]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 2 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Ace / Baron von Richthofen / Red Baron #TimeTravelAuthors FixingThe doctor nodded encouragingly.
“It was when I returned it happened. I own a book containing rare and previously unpublished letters by Hemingway. To my astonishment, there was one from his time during the Spanish Civil War. In it, he perfectly described me and my prediction. Nothing has been the same since. The experiences grow ever longer, and I have increasing trouble waking. It’s not as if I can avoid them. A billboard can set it off or the blurb on a food package. On one occasion, Baron von Richthofen, a World War I #Ace, almost shot me as a spy. That was due to a serial box. Another time, a billboard for rum dumped me on a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico, and I was mistaken for a worker. The conditions were terrible. The sugar company treated the workers like slaves.”
“I am terrified every time it happens,” I said.
He nodded again, “Yes, that would be awful.”
I showed him my copy of “Three John Silence Stories” and said, “You have to help me; it’s happening again.”
[FINIS]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 2 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Ace / Baron von Richthofen / Red Baron #TimeTravelAuthors FixingThe doctor nodded encouragingly.
“It was when I returned it happened. I own a book containing rare and previously unpublished letters by Hemingway. To my astonishment, there was one from his time during the Spanish Civil War. In it, he perfectly described me and my prediction. Nothing has been the same since. The experiences grow ever longer, and I have increasing trouble waking. It’s not as if I can avoid them. A billboard can set it off or the blurb on a food package. On one occasion, Baron von Richthofen, a World War I #Ace, almost shot me as a spy. That was due to a serial box. Another time, a billboard for rum dumped me on a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico, and I was mistaken for a worker. The conditions were terrible. The sugar company treated the workers like slaves.”
“I am terrified every time it happens,” I said.
He nodded again, “Yes, that would be awful.”
I showed him my copy of “Three John Silence Stories” and said, “You have to help me; it’s happening again.”
[FINIS]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 2 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Ace / Baron von Richthofen / Red Baron #TimeTravelAuthors FixingThe doctor nodded encouragingly.
“It was when I returned it happened. I own a book containing rare and previously unpublished letters by Hemingway. To my astonishment, there was one from his time during the Spanish Civil War. In it, he perfectly described me and my prediction. Nothing has been the same since. The experiences grow ever longer, and I have increasing trouble waking. It’s not as if I can avoid them. A billboard can set it off or the blurb on a food package. On one occasion, Baron von Richthofen, a World War I #Ace, almost shot me as a spy. That was due to a serial box. Another time, a billboard for rum dumped me on a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico, and I was mistaken for a worker. The conditions were terrible. The sugar company treated the workers like slaves.”
“I am terrified every time it happens,” I said.
He nodded again, “Yes, that would be awful.”
I showed him my copy of “Three John Silence Stories” and said, “You have to help me; it’s happening again.”
[FINIS]
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A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 2 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Ace / Baron von Richthofen / Red Baron #TimeTravelAuthors FixingThe doctor nodded encouragingly.
“It was when I returned it happened. I own a book containing rare and previously unpublished letters by Hemingway. To my astonishment, there was one from his time during the Spanish Civil War. In it, he perfectly described me and my prediction. Nothing has been the same since. The experiences grow ever longer, and I have increasing trouble waking. It’s not as if I can avoid them. A billboard can set it off or the blurb on a food package. On one occasion, Baron von Richthofen, a World War I #Ace, almost shot me as a spy. That was due to a serial box. Another time, a billboard for rum dumped me on a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico, and I was mistaken for a worker. The conditions were terrible. The sugar company treated the workers like slaves.”
“I am terrified every time it happens,” I said.
He nodded again, “Yes, that would be awful.”
I showed him my copy of “Three John Silence Stories” and said, “You have to help me; it’s happening again.”
[FINIS]
-
"...Greek #myth is always full of...random...#fanfiction..."
#Homeric scholar referring to the many different and disputed versions of #Odysseus' story, going back to #Homer himself, and how all of the #Greek #myths are stories built upon stories.
Meaning #ChristopherNolan's The Odyssey is as historically accurate as every other version of the story.
Get over yourselves bros, it's #fanfic all the way down.
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"...Greek #myth is always full of...random...#fanfiction..."
#Homeric scholar referring to the many different and disputed versions of #Odysseus' story, going back to #Homer himself, and how all of the #Greek #myths are stories built upon stories.
Meaning #ChristopherNolan's The Odyssey is as historically accurate as every other version of the story.
Get over yourselves bros, it's #fanfic all the way down.
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"...Greek #myth is always full of...random...#fanfiction..."
#Homeric scholar referring to the many different and disputed versions of #Odysseus' story, going back to #Homer himself, and how all of the #Greek #myths are stories built upon stories.
Meaning #ChristopherNolan's The Odyssey is as historically accurate as every other version of the story.
Get over yourselves bros, it's #fanfic all the way down.
-
"...Greek #myth is always full of...random...#fanfiction..."
#Homeric scholar referring to the many different and disputed versions of #Odysseus' story, going back to #Homer himself, and how all of the #Greek #myths are stories built upon stories.
Meaning #ChristopherNolan's The Odyssey is as historically accurate as every other version of the story.
Get over yourselves bros, it's #fanfic all the way down.
-
"...Greek #myth is always full of...random...#fanfiction..."
#Homeric scholar referring to the many different and disputed versions of #Odysseus' story, going back to #Homer himself, and how all of the #Greek #myths are stories built upon stories.
Meaning #ChristopherNolan's The Odyssey is as historically accurate as every other version of the story.
Get over yourselves bros, it's #fanfic all the way down.
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
A #Pastiche in Time: Algernon Blackwood Part 1 of 2
#FanFic #AlgernonBlackwood
#Wss366 Brief / Hemingway's birthday #TimeTravelAuthors Fixing“Doctor Silence, it is the most disconcerting feeling. I can no longer read. If I pick up a book, I soon enter a fugue state and am transported to that time and place.”
I was seated in a room painted a calming green. A servant had provided me with a chair that was inexplicably nailed to the floor. The doctor sat across from me listening intently.
If I had to describe him, I would first say he matched his name. He gave off a quiet air of calm, despite an eerie aura. His whole manner left you convinced he was both incalculably benevolent and knowledgeable. As for his dress, he wore a tasteful plum smoking jacket, for I had arrived at his consult in the early evening, far past normal visiting hours.
“Go on,” he said. “How did it start?”
“The first time it happened, I was reading ‘Time Machine’ by H.G. Wells. I was nearing the end when I had the most realistic dream that I was walking under a dim sun by the sea. On the beach were alien, muddy-brown crabs of enormous size. The experience was quite #brief, and I awoke presently.”
“Only it wasn’t a dream, was it?” the doctor said.
I relaxed; he understood. I knew there was an alternate chamber with padded walls for delusional visitors. That they hadn’t taken me to it should have been reassuring, but it was good to see tangible evidence that Dr. Silence accepted my bizarre story.
“No, but I didn’t know it. It seemed too fantastic to think I was actually traveling to those times and places.”
Forgetting the chair was immobile, I attempted to scoot closer to my audience. After a nervous laugh, I continued. “I had several more experiences of this nature: a visit to the Khyber Pass; Paris during the French Revolution; and a 1920s speakeasy. I rather enjoyed the dreams. They were so vivid and realistic, each longer than the last. I felt quite safe, since if anything bad happens, I’ll wake up, which is something I can generally force myself to do.”
“When did you realize?” Silent asked.
“I was reading #Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ and found myself in a crowded Spanish tavern. There was a fellow American there, and I offered to buy him a drink. We fell to talking, him about being a war correspondent. I was excited to actually be talking to a famous author and, well, one thing led to another, and I told him I was from the future and that the Republicans would lose the war. He laughed. I don’t think he believed me.”
[Continued tomorrow]
-
new pokémon fic!
Our lives have crossed (but we understand not)
actually really pleased with the first half of this fic, even if the latter half turned out a bit wonky....
During an argument about a comfey with a hibiscus flower, Kukui and his class start to realise how different the life of a travelling trainer really is.
Alternatively: most of the world uses smartphones, but serious trainers often have a pokédex which work just a little※ bit differently.
Oneshot. [3.7K words]
#fanfiction #fanfic #pokémon #pokemon #alola #AshKetchum #ProfessorKukui -
Just posted the Epilogue of The Right to Refuse on the #ao3 !
...and now I'm tempted to edit Bionics, the story about how Zach got his hardware & the S5s were formed in my universe!
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Just posted the Epilogue of The Right to Refuse on the #ao3 !
...and now I'm tempted to edit Bionics, the story about how Zach got his hardware & the S5s were formed in my universe!
-
Just posted the Epilogue of The Right to Refuse on the #ao3 !
...and now I'm tempted to edit Bionics, the story about how Zach got his hardware & the S5s were formed in my universe!
-
Just posted the Epilogue of The Right to Refuse on the #ao3 !
...and now I'm tempted to edit Bionics, the story about how Zach got his hardware & the S5s were formed in my universe!
-
"You've all been so thoughtful" I whispered. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."
"Nothing.* He said. "You don't earn being loved by being useful."
-
"You've all been so thoughtful" I whispered. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."
"Nothing.* He said. "You don't earn being loved by being useful."
-
Reincarnated as a Riolu, a lightning technician tries to fulfill his dream of becoming a movie star.
Though set in a fantastic world, the verisimilitude of working on a film set is particularly striking.
I stayed up until 5am to read this almost 280k words and still updating story, that's how you know it's good!
-
Chapter 9: Stand-Off of my #GalaxyRangers #fanfic The Right to Refuse just went live on the #AO3 - now only a short epilogue is to do.
Yes, this fic ends with a stalemate of sorts.https://archiveofourown.org/works/87440591/chapters/235802556
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Chapter 9: Stand-Off of my #GalaxyRangers #fanfic The Right to Refuse just went live on the #AO3 - now only a short epilogue is to do.
Yes, this fic ends with a stalemate of sorts.https://archiveofourown.org/works/87440591/chapters/235802556
-
Chapter 9: Stand-Off of my #GalaxyRangers #fanfic The Right to Refuse just went live on the #AO3 - now only a short epilogue is to do.
Yes, this fic ends with a stalemate of sorts.https://archiveofourown.org/works/87440591/chapters/235802556
-
Chapter 9: Stand-Off of my #GalaxyRangers #fanfic The Right to Refuse just went live on the #AO3 - now only a short epilogue is to do.
Yes, this fic ends with a stalemate of sorts.https://archiveofourown.org/works/87440591/chapters/235802556
-
Oof. Reading a piece of long form fanfiction and this quote just jumped up and punched me ~straight in my psyche~ :
"People think I’m tough. And maybe I am. Maybe I’ve earned it. But tough doesn’t mean untouched. It just means you learned how to bleed quietly."
-
Oof. Reading a piece of long form fanfiction and this quote just jumped up and punched me ~straight in my psyche~ :
"People think I’m tough. And maybe I am. Maybe I’ve earned it. But tough doesn’t mean untouched. It just means you learned how to bleed quietly."
-
The Mermaid of Jakku Bay
archiveofourown.org/works/72531496
A thing that fascinates me about #writing is how it is tied to Libido - the art that originally inspired this #Fanfic is sexy, to say the least
#Reylofic -
The Mermaid of Jakku Bay
archiveofourown.org/works/72531496
A thing that fascinates me about #writing is how it is tied to Libido - the art that originally inspired this #Fanfic is sexy, to say the least
#Reylofic -
Every so often I get reminded that in 2020 I wrote this monstrocity following a fever dream.
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Every so often I get reminded that in 2020 I wrote this monstrocity following a fever dream.
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The part of the fanfic that Doll has been waiting for, where she brings V down to her level...
Fanfic links below as usual
#murderdrones #fanfiction #genie #art #krita #hypnosis #hypnoart #hypnosiskink #dollmd #doll #serialdesignationv #bellydancer #femsub #femdom #fanfic
