#and then just... keep doing that until they're all dead. all fifty of the bastards. horrible way to play. would absolutely do it again. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neganmct · 2 years

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Fifty Comedic Prompts

"Noooooooo, really?"

"Well if she/he/they weren't flat before they certainly are now"

"You have one exhausted guardian angel, dude"

"We've nearly died enough today so please get the fuck down"

"How? How do you fall in love with the fucker who is currently chasing us down with a fucking chainsaw?!"

"I have several questions but mainly I'm just wondering how you got up there"

"Will you stop being a cockblock for one day please?"

"No, no, sweetheart, that's a predator"

"You already are stupid, she's/he's/they're gonna be fucking you stupider"

"I don't care who started it I'm coming back there to finish it!"

"We have bigger problems than you trying to sheath your sword right now"

"Your God right now is pissing on us, how is this a blessed day?"

"Can we go one day without chaos? I really need to take a two year nap"

"I need to pull the shutters dow- Is that a God damn trampoline?"

"You were so high you had a staring contest with my mother's photograph"

"You literally told the clock you're not drunk you piss head"

"The only way anyone is sucking that is if they have a microscope and tweezers"

"Suck my duh... door.... doorknob.... Yeah, suck my doorknob!"

"This heat feels like we've accidentally walked straight into Satan's anus"

"I feel like I'm talking to a toddler who knows every swear word in the English language with guns"

"I was away for five minutes and I came back to you guys having a bot invasion, Princess Diana returned to Earth with vengeance, the park was invaded by dinosaurs and the sun exploded"

"Last time I went to the doctors it involved rubber gloves and jelly"

"There's literally no traffic right now, man, just ignore the red light"

"Wow! I've never been so dry! I can use your picture to keep me safe from the rain!"

"Why is he/she/they handcuffed to the radiator?"

"What ass? You're flatter than the flat earther's theory"

"We're in the middle of nowhere, how good can it really be?"

"Guys... Guys... Guys! We forgot someone!"

"Oh look, it's Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum"

"I do not have enough hands for this"

"Hey, man, I need-Oh my God, that is a third leg! Your poor wife/husband/spouse..."

"You can't go one day without breaking my shit!"

"Quit sighing in disappoint I can hear that"

"You're just upset because your KFC can run away from you"

"Can you set me on fire? I'm cold"

"I need to make sure I'm holding a shield when she/he/they come here because I am am definitely gonna find myself on the floor"

"Who you gonna call? Those bastards!"

"If you die I'm bringing you back just to put you back in the ground myself"

"Do you go outside? Ever?"

"What's it mean when you're non sexy horny for something?"

"I hope you die first so I can eat you"

"He/she/they said they need a firm hand and I will give them/him/her a firm hand on the back of the skull!"

"Red Dead Depression honestly, Red Dead Depression"

"They're very intelligent until we leave them alone in a room together because together they share one braincell"

"I am a twig compared to you please don't hurt me"

"All that fucking hair, are you sure that's a man?"

"He... He is aware he just said girls night, right?"

"You guys make me age fifty years in a day"

"It's not like the smart smart but the smart smart smart"

"Who the hell let you of all people have a gun?"

#writing prompt #writers prompt #dialogue prompt #story prompt #story ideas #writing ideas #writing inspiration #comedic #funny

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lostadrianda · 4 years

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The house of wolves

Part I

*версия на русском языке по ссылке:

https://ficbook.net/readfic/8551009

There are dark times. I thought that the death of my parents was the worst thing I would ever see in my life. But now it's so bad… I have to admit that it's worse.

Smoke from the fire rises into the sky, twisting and dragging sparks with it. An axe clatters, and a tree falls with a crunch, breaking neighboring branches. I have almost no life left in me. Almost nothing is inside. People are scurrying around. The camp is growing in front of our eyes, turning from a temporary to our permanent campsite. I look at it, trying to figure out what’s going on. I'm not used to being in camps. The detachments held out successfully for four years in the Dominiana, where we took over the houses, and everything went well. But recently we were forced out of those lands, and the Sly Fox moved all of us to the Islands. It seems to be logical decision. But on the Islands we are not welcome. We could have gone to the south to sparsely populated areas and stayed there. However, we did not do this. But why?

I was the only one who seemed to be asking questions. I don't know. I didn't have much contact with anyone from the camp. I glance at the people sitting next to me. Their faces are dry and earthy. Only the reddish glare of the fire is on them. And their eyes are fixed. You always had to keep in mind that those were wolves around you, not people. They look alike, they even show humanity from time to time. It's all a lie. And if there is any kindness in someone, it will soon be beaten out of them. It's the only way around here. I am among the enemy, I am in their ranks. I help put up new tents. But I have a feeling that I will soon be finished with. It's about time. But the Sly Fox keeps stalling. I think he understands how much this torments me. That's why he keeps me close to him. He's not stupid, no. Therefore, his decisions are not discussed.

It's funny that the Fox has committed so many crimes, but if somebody asks to show the main bastard, everyone will point the finger at me. I betrayed my family. Not native, adopted. Yes, they are all dead now, too. I guess my life didn't work out. But I didn't betray anyone. When the door was kicked in and twenty men entered with the Fox at their head, it was all over. There was nothing I could do about it, no matter how much I think about it. I pretended that I always hated my new parents. And I joined the side of the enemy. I should have given my sister time to escape. I didn't expect much more. I didn't think about anything. I didn't think I'd have to break into houses like this with the others. That now I will always hear the sound of those black boots wherever I go. I didn't think I'd have to run around in the woods. I didn’t know I'd be stuck with them for five years. I thought they would kill me that night, in the same house, as soon as they realized what I had done. But they did not understand or pretended not to understand. They still look askance. And I'm not allowed to be absolutely free. The Sly Fox sometimes calls me, asks questions, and I answer, but I keep waiting for the punishment to come. And he lets me go. During all this time, not a single suspicion was expressed. And he's smart. And there is nothing left for me, I am in his hands, always in his sight, even if he is watching me with a hundred other people's eyes, wolf eyes. He is always somewhere above me, behind me. All the time my life is suspended, and I know it.

My only hope is that my sister will return. I have nothing else left. Everything is so empty. And I’m doing something wrong. I close my eyes so that I don't see anything, so that I don't understand what is happening to me. Because as soon as I start thinking, it turns me inside out. When I forget myself, I gather wood for a fire, go with others and scout the area around the camp, draw some maps. And everything seems to be as it should be. I make an obedient and silent employee, everyone is happy, I do not interfere with anyone. The whole body shakes, as if with a strong chill, and no fire warms. So something inside is resisting. It remembers, and remembers well, that the Sly Fox is the enemy. That he killed a lot of people. But he's good, he's built everything right. He's got an army of about three thousand men, and they all look at him and catch every word. Only one person I've ever known, only one person in my entire life, could stand up to him. And this is my sister. Isn’t it funny, huh? As I remember her, thin, fragile, as I look at the Fox… I can't believe it. But that’s true. Her playful dark eyes flashed with such power sometimes that I was willing to believe that she would overcome anyone. And every time I look at the Fox, I always look at the scar on his cheek. My sister left this for him as a souvenir.

But I haven't heard from her in five years. It's too long to wait, you know? A person waits, waits for a week, a month, maybe a year… And then begins to live, throwing a veil of oblivion over the past. Only I never started again. The air balloon ends sooner or later, you know? And I'm still trying to grab the mask and breathe, breathe. Nothing is inside. In the camp, when people talk about her, all they say is that she must have been dead for a long time. I wished they say something else, even nonsense. Nooo. There are no other options in anyone's mind. Only my brains resist. Things can't be that bad. No matter how much life beats me, I won't believe it. It can't be that bad.

Smoke from the fire gets in my nose. It's getting colder, the earth is blowing in autumn, and the leaves are not the same as before. I rub my flushed hands together. The Islands don't like us. We are like an ulcer on their body. We tried to move deeper into the mountains and fortify ourselves. Fifty of our men were killed in two days. A couple of detachments remained in the dense forests at the foot of the mountain, while the rest were scattered along the coasts hiding. We choose places so that we are not found for as long as possible. And it’s strange that the Fox ordered us to fortify ourselves here. But let hell be with it.

The sky has been cloudy all the time we've been here. Today, for the first time, I see the sun shining. Even now you can't see the sky — it's all white, with darker clouds floating across it. The horizon is dark-blue, grim, colliding with an even darker, colder sea. I look into the distance and for the first time I think that my sister must be dead. It scares so much. It's like I'm no longer a human being and I'm becoming a wolf, like all those people around me. That’s really scary. For some reason everything turns to be meaningless. No, I won't give them my soul. They took everything from me, but they won't get it. I will believe till the end. I will resist until I lose my mind. Why am I sitting now here with them, as if I really took their side?

It makes me feel sick. I kept hiding in their ranks and waiting for my sister to break out. Five years have passed. Time flies quickly, terribly, the further away, the more ghostly. I forget how it all happened, I forget why it happened, I forget what a mistake we made. I still think that I did everything right. I acted as I should. As well as I could. But for some reason, it all turned out to be really bad.

If I am the only one left here, who is still fighting, who still remembers that there were better, brighter times, if my sister is dead, and no one is fighting without her, isn't it time for me to get up? Isn't it time to remember who I was and how I was brought up, and what was on my mind before I got bogged down in this mire? I'm biting my lip nervously, they are already looking at me with suspicion.

What a coward I have become! Just thinking makes my temples sweat. I’m used to waiting for a miracle, but as soon as I imagined that I had to act myself, I shrank from fear and wanted to hide away. If only they didn't touch me, if only, if only... I did not to experience new horrors. You don't like me, do you? Despise? Look at me, all that is left of me is my skin, hanging on my bones! These wolves, damn them, have broken me so badly that none of my old friends would recognize me. But what good are these friends: they're either dead or they're first in line to take my head off.

I stand up from the log I've been sitting on all this time and feel my legs go numb. They are frozen to the bones. I stand still to stretch them a little. The two men sitting next to me look at me lazily.

— Where are you going? – Their cracked lips move, yellow teeth appear in between them. Those men probably don't like camp life either. And how long this will continue, no one knows.

— I'll go up to the river. There's one place I don't understand, I want to look at it.

— Don't run into anyone. We don't need you to bring the villagers here.

I nod. I don't get into fights, I don't get involved. Everything I have inside, I keep inside, and it’s a habit that has covered me like armor. I walk past the tents, from campfire to campfire, and turn onto the path that leads higher. I climb up and look back. Lights, trampled paths, people. I'm sick to death of such views. The further away from them, the better it is. I know I'll be back anyway. It's sickening. But the closer I get to them, the more I can learn about the outside world. I'm still waiting for news. At least one piece of news about my sister would be great. No one else will tell me. Only sitting by the fire I learn something new. Everyone in the outside world that I strive for hates me so much that they won't hesitate when they see me. They’ll kill me instantly. Here in the squads, I'm just one of hundreds. To the outside world, I stand in one line with the Fox. And he is happy for this — to keep a traitorous son and show everyone that even I recognized his power.

#story #story time #writer #writing #writing in quarantine #writings #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writers #writblr #house of wolves #part #dark #darkness #feelings

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

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@its-whitetomorrow

I appreciate that you take the time out of your day to read my witterings, and respond to them in detail, but I'm somewhat intellectually limited and it takes a while to write an answer.

The final one is a bit of a problem. The original post is long, your bit is long, and my addition is probably twice both put together.

Did you know Tumblr has a limit: no more than two hundred and fifty text blocks per post? I discovered this from experience, unsurprisingly.

I think the only solution is to split it across several posts.

I wasn't going to say anything, but I suppose I should.

I started this blog last May, to relieve the boredom of my main embarrassment, whose only likes (all three of them) were from porn bots.

It wasn't even meant to be about Pokémon. I'd left the fandom years previously. It was odds and ends, but I happened to find a few silly screen shots so wrote a couple of joke remarks, not expecting a ripple of interest.

Within a couple of hours I got more notes than t'other's managed even to this day. I had the idea this was where I was more at home, so I started taking it seriously.

My pseudonym was just daft thing I'd made up previously, to reflect that, whilst still in love with old days, I'm not exactly pleased with how it's gone.

I thought it might stand out as memorable, plus I like acronyms, so it affords me the opportunity to call myself 'T.A.P.'

In the early days the focus was on the 'maniac' aspect. Anger as a description didn't fit at all. The farther back you go, the more stupid and clownish it gets. It's not been like this all the way through!

Seriously, it used to be an entertainment blog, designed to make people laugh. It's all ages: no swearing, no porn, nothing to put anyone off.

(This post under discussion contains the only profanity I've ever deployed. I thought saving it up might add some oomph.)

I mean it, it's was all light-hearted ridicule. Every so often, there would be a slightly cutting remark, but mild compared to now.

Then, last September, someone I spoke to regularly, who assured me we were friends, suddenly cut off all contact.

At first I wasn't aware of it, but by October it became too glaring a silence to ignore.

I thought rifts started because of massive disagreements, but as far as I remembered our last exchange ended normally.

I found out by accident that the reason for it was because I am repugnant and morally inferior and so swollen with my own ego that the existence of others doesn't register. Instead they are but soulless droids built to worship the great T.A.P. mollusc.

Well that was news to me. I had no idea I came across like that. As far as I knew, I was on my best behaviour when we interacted.

I was polite. I tried to be ingratiate myself. I kept talk to the fandom. I didn't pry. I attempted humour when the opportunity arose.

I thought I'd done all I could to be liked, but apparently I hadn't. It was a revolting experience for them, for all of saying they loved me and I was 'honey'.

It really, really, really got to me, and the feeling hasn't abated, if anything it's worse.

As I said, I don't know what I did wrong, and because I don't, I can't mend my ways. If I am this repellant waste of flesh I'd like to change, but if I'm not told my offence, what am I meant to do?

If what I thought was the best I could be wasn't good enough, and instead was so sickening I don't deserve their presence, then I have no idea how to interact with people.

Maybe every time I respond to someone, thinking I'm at worst, civil, is really grotesque conceit, because my arrogance is so extreme I'm not even aware it's there. In my head it sounds normal.

It'd be too easy to scoff that they were the one with the problem, but, given all the arguments that happen in life, it can't always be someone else's fault. It's got to be you at least once.

They obviously think they were justified, so who's to say they weren't?

You may say not to let it worry me, that I should just get over it, and you'd be totally right. Being bothered makes me feel pathetic and petty on top of the rest, but this is me you're talking to, not a sane person. Self-hatred is more instinctive to me than breathing.

I always dwell on the negative. If one hundred people were assembled, ninety-nine of whom declared me the most wonderful being ever to live, and one remarked I wasn't all that special, it's him I'd remember.

It's called ghosting because that's what happens. There comes a moment when you accept that, no, it's over, rejected again, and it's like realising I'd died, and had been gone for a while.

Except I hadn't noticed the process, so I was always dead in a way, and they spoke to the silvery silhouette left behind, until that too dispersed into untraceable nothingness. Again, the silence is my fault for dying, not theirs.

I feel there's no point in messaging anyone, because I'll only disgust them too. Some blogs encourage contact, and when I see it I always think:

Yeah, but they don't mean YOU.

If it's another person I already spoke to, I can't shut up. I bombard them with text in the hope they know I don't think they're a menial droid. Every one I immediately regret, and wish I could take back, because that will irritate them until I'm just a sad, nagging past.

The Ghost-Maker used to reblog 99% of my work. This dropped to nothing overnight, so not only am I worthless, but so is everything I do.

Posts G.M. didn't like got 0-5 notes. Ones they did had 20+. Many a time, it took their reblog for anyone else to notice.

It was like others used that blog as a filter to pull the fool's gold from the murk of this one. Once their favour evaporated, so did a lot of the goodwill from elsewhere, so it's was as if Tumblr agreed I was scum.

Saying that above just shows they were right, because it takes one smug bastard to believe their existence registers with anyone else.

Please don't think I'm demanding likes, that my stuff deserves them, although as I'm arrogant I am. It's just that 99% to 0% is a bit of a fall.

Up til then, I held back much of what I thought about the current state of the anime, as they liked it, but now I have no reason to stop.

If I'm to be accused of all these vices I might as well have them. I'm dead, so who cares what I say? No one listens to a ghost.

It's not that I'm unconcerned if I upset anyone, it's just the truth that I don't matter enough for what I write to be valued enough to offend.

As a ghost, I think of this blog as invisible. It's there, but not really, so how can anyone mind?

Incidentally, the first week I was here I got blocked by someone who hates all fans from the Nineties. I don't care about that, as they sound like a cretin, and I'd have to be defective to gain their approval.

I just want to say I find that moronic. I don't hate new fans at all. I wouldn't block someone because we disagreed.

Blocking denies people access to your blog, stating they don't deserve your ART. That's arrogant to me.

Blocker likes Ghost-Maker, but...

Ever since around October, I've progressively become angrier and angrier. Whenever I'm here or Pokémon enters my head, it just reminds that I'm pond slime, about the most crude, malformed half-life freak you can envision.

I don't like being here anymore. I keep intending to leave, the site and the fandom, and set fire to it all before I go, wipe away the slug trail to spare people's stomachs.

I kept quiet until now, but holding it in just made it more intense. If I may describe myself in ridiculously flattering terms, I feel like a shaken champagne bottle, but the cork is welded in, so the only option is for the glass to shatter.

If anyone's reading this, wondering where the fun went, well this is why I flipped. The red mist won't clear. I can't see beyond it.

I won't name Ghost-Maker, because I don't want to start anything, plus most will take their side. They may see this as they still rifle round these parts occasionally for posts that aren't mine.

Well done, Ghostie. You're the lucky one. We'll never meet and you haven't seen me. Pity the poor sods I've encountered. There must be vomit trails across the land provoked by my vile condition. I wasn't aware of this until you let me in on the secret.

There's an English television presenter called Caroline Flack. She killed herself yesterday and everyone loved her. I feel guilty that I'm alive and she's not.

#Pokémon #Tumblr

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