#only white thats got grubby

[rosagoldpastel]

#carpe jugulum #discworld #discworld quotes #granny weatherwax #discworld witches #only white thats got grubby

[tigris-types]

Graduation Dress

So if you follow me, you know that I go to school A and I play quidditch at school B. I recebtly got a quidditch jersey from school B with school B's logo on it. I'm also graduating from school A in May, and since no one can see what I'm wearing underneath the grad gown, I thought "wouldnt it be funny if I wore quidditch jersey to my graduation".

I told the quidditch team, they thought it was hilarious, I tell my mom, and shes confusesd as to why ots funny. I try to explain, but she asks why I'm doing it for attention.

She asks if I'm confusing graduation with a sporting event where people do crazy, immature, "in your face" stunts for attention.

She says its disrespectful to the school and to others.

She says I'm going to beaten up.

She asks why the graduation ceremony is a joke to me.

She asks if I'd rather be graduating from school B.

She asks if she should just get out her white flag and cancel the whole thing.

She asks, since I dont care, if she and my dad just show up in their grubby gardening clothes that make them look like hillbillies.

She accuses me of not having loyalty to my school or being proud of my accomplishments. (I told her I'm loyal to my friends ive made their but not the school since its just a building. I decided not to mention how my the 4 years were just more school really, no different from high school)

She wonders how I could ever be so immature to think something like this is okay.

I try to explain, that I dont plan on a reveal. That since I would just be wearing casual clothes underneath my gown, why not wear something fun? But I dont feel like getting into an argument, so I say I'm fine dressing up a but wearing a dress/vest/leggings/boots combo because that would also be fun to wear. (It has pockets, and gloves that match the vest that look like gauntlets)

She asks if thr quidditch team would even want me flaunting around their team at school a. I tell her I told them my idea. She says "of course they think it's a good idea, they wouldnt be the ones doing it. They wouldnt be beaten up for gradutating in a quidditch jersey on their campus"

But she says its my day, so I should wear what I want to wear. She doesnt want to "kill my dreams", but she doesnt understand how I could be so silly and immature to think a stunt like this would be okay. And if I'm not doing it for attention, what would be the point of it at all? Wouldnt I want to show it off to my friends?

I tell her I wouldn't, but she doesnt belive me. She accuses me of just doing for attention again. I ask her how keeping a secret is a call for attention.

She wants to end the conservation, I say that fine. She goes through the list of questions again, blaming me for being silly, immature, and disrespectful. I say okay. I say that I'll wear something else.

She says I can wear what I want, but that we'll revisit this again I'm May.

She walks away, so I walk to my room. She then follows me and says "I appreciate you telling me this. Really. I like it when you share."

Okay mom.

"Really, thank you for telling me"

You're welcome.

"Love you"

"""""Love""""" you too

Because like really??? I'm super silly!! Thats like my whole character!! Its as if she doesnt even know me! Oh that's right, because she doesn't!! I try so hard to please her and I try so hard to be her "perfect little girl" while still trying to be my own person, and she doesnt even know! She doesn't know how much of myself I keep hidden just to try to be a person she can be proud of. Yeah, I'm quiet, beacuse I'm always inside my own head being the person/fantasy adventure hero that i want to be. I live in day dreams becasue they are better than reality and keep me sane and steong so I can deal with her.

And she calls me silly amd immature like it's a bad thing?? Like I'm sorry I'm not a boring adult? I'm sorry I have to day dream all the time to be okay with my life? I'm sorry I'm comstantly building stories and adventires in my head? I'm supposed to be sorry that im silly? I'm supposes to ashamed of it?

At forst I thought she didnt think it was funny beacsue it was a generation thing. Like ots funny to my friends and I because yeah, maybe it is a little disrespectful, but no one would no so no harm no foul right?

But for her to not understand who I am, that I am silly, and to wonder (quite seriously I might add) if I got graduation mixed up with a sporting event? That's the same as calling me stupid!!

And she was so infuriated my actions (you know, of merely suggesting the idea) that she didnt want to deal with it right now. Like I did soemthing really bad, and well, I havent done a thing.

And then, she has the audacity to say she appreicates me telling her. Yeah right, you just want to make sure I dont completely cut you out of my life and never tell you a single thing again. Which if I didnt rely on her for funds for college, healthcare, and other needs, I totally would have. Besides, I cant leave my dad to deal with her alone.

Because i know she complains how my brother "doesnt tell her anything" and that "shes always the last to know". So maybe thats a fear with her when it comes to me. But also, ive also told her that i dont like talking to her beacse she yells at me and I would appreaciate if she would try to yell less. She says shes working on it.

Ive also said that I would be willing to talk to her more if she yelled less, but she says she only yells when she feels her point is being listened too. Ive responded maybe it would be easier for other a to listen if she didnt yell. When I introduced her to my little pony (because she wanted to know what i was watching even though i knew she would frown on it because it was too immature) I showed her an episode where that was the lesson. All she said was "the animation is pretty smooth. I can see why you like it. Trying to learn more about their simple style?" I lied and agreed, knowing she had ENTIRETY missed the point.

But just. This is what I have to deal with. A simple joke turned into a 20 minute lecture where she says that i should be ashamed of my main character traits and could get beaten up if I pull a "stunt" like a wearing a shirt with another schools logo to my graduation.

#i know its long #but someone please read this and just #idk #empathize of symphasize with me #whichever one it is #quidditch #graduation #complaing about my mom #again #but wjats new there really #personal

[mathieubellamont]

oh i forgot to actually do some art of my new gal!

this is The One Who Is Known As she-who-makes (or Eyes bc i dont know how to draw cats so i made a khajiit thats just. too dark to see. shes just eyes)

her horse matches bc i couldnt stop myself spending all those crowns on The Aesthetique

some more dets below cut?? only if youre interested ofc!

shes just known as she-who-makes bc no one knows her, and shes nonverbal so shes known by her pastime, makin stuff! What stuff??? a l l  s t u f f. If she doesnt know how to do something shes so so keen to learn, maaaybbee to the point of a little bit of unhealthy obsession, she kinda beats herself up a bit if she cant wrap her head around new skills, but i guess it pushes her to learn faster??

She doesnt pursue magic arts (kinda thinks its a bit.... cheating? to make stuff with magicka and not hands and pure physical items?), not really her thing, but shes got the knack for illusion magic- just enough for what she needs! Of course shes a thief just because i cant keep my grubby hands as a player away from Those Sweet Red Illegal Items (also she needs the materials to make things...) but like............ invisible in a jiffy, in and out soundlessly weaving her way into boxes and chests before you even know it. Super agile. really agile. Soundless when she needs to be, but also can muffle noises w illusions soooo

Physically apart from bein black as the void shes a big gal! White mane, she puts things she finds in there sometimes to keep them close like nails, quills, sometimes bc theyre pretty (flowers, leaves) and sometimes bc she just likes the item! I guess puttin it in her hair is a special thing for her. Stuff like pretty scraps of cloth she finds, maybe some rocks with Good Textures, that sorta thing. whatever it is.

Personality wise she definitely keeps to herself, people are a little too loud for her and well.............. they expect ya to talk. So she makes things, heads out in the night to take things. shes observant, she’d never willingly take from those who are poorer, those who arent doing good mentally/emotionally, and she’d never willingly take things like inherited items if they had great meaning to their owner (unless their owner Sucked ya know). She gives things though to people she likes! Whether that like is a friendship like or shes seen you and you have the right Feel, you may get a gift from her! Not the most common thing, but very special. Whether its a tiny box or big piece of furniture or shes walking with you, finds a really pretty leaf on the ground and decides you can have it, its kinda a big thing for her to do that.

tl;dr she good. she big. she fluff. she Sneaky and pure. 

#edit: i forgot to mention i dont generally stylise this much??? but it just suits her too much #ill end up drawing her and some other oc and theyll be semi-realistic and she'll be black blob w nondescript eyes #my art #she-who-makes #i should probably make a #misc ocs #tag??? i guess??? i dont have many tes ocs #hands /// #traitor's ramblings

[bloodandcream]

Title: finger the pink

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Destiel

Wordcount: 812

Notes: it’s 5 am, Ive been drinking gin all night, I am really bad at casual texting whatever, but here @pecanpiedean have another anish kapoor/stuart semple inspired Destiel au 

---

D : can u belive this fuckin dbag

S: its 3 am

D : he copyrighted a color

D : a color

D : who the fuck does he think he is

S : again

S : 3 am

---

D : he named it vantablack

D : fuckin pretensious dbag

S : so youll spell out pretentious but not douchebag

D : dick bag

D : but douchebag is good 2

---

S : are we talking abt Castiel

D : yes we are talking about no last name castiel

D : c a s t i e l

D: srsly he changed his name legally

D : no last name

D : dbag

S : hes not even that famous

S : doesnt he have like 1 sculpture that ppl talk abt

D : the chicago bean

D : everyone talks abt it

D : he called it cloud gate fkn wtv

D : he hates it when ppl call it the bean

D : so always call it the bean

S : thats what I called it

---

D : how is it even legal to copyright a color

S : technically he copyrighted the use of that color for art

D : fancypants lawyer

S : so just make your own color and copyright it back

D : that is childish and petty

D : what color should I make

---

D : hey did Kev change his number

S : Tran? maybe why

D : i need his help on this

D : kids a genius

---

K : why pink

D : bcause I like the color

D : so are you in

K : why do artists make so much drama

D : its part of the process

K : how much are you paying me

---

S : I cant believe you banned 1 person from using it

S : thats not even a thing

D : its totally a thing

S : you know someone is going to buy it and give it to him

D : which is illegal per the agreement of the sales you helped me on

D : so ha

D : ha

D : ha

S : very mature

---

D : he put his middle finger in my pink and took a pic of it

S : ….

S : you do realize how that sounds

D : i cant believe that son of a bitch got his dirty hands on my pink

S : pls stop saying it like that

D : hes gonna pay for this

---

D : i got that son of a bitch

D : i got him and the grubby paws that bought it for him

S : congrats

S : your petty drama is coming to fruit

D : HA

---

D : this isnt fair

S : i am 1 room over from you

S : why r u texting me at 2 am

S : we have another meet tmrrw for the settlement

D : hes really hot

D : he smells so good 

S : omg shut up

D : i cant sleep

S : i dont need to know abt ur gay problems

D : ull be hearing my problems if u dont talk to me

S : i hate u

---

C : How did you get my number?

D : called myself on it while u were in the shower last night

C : Why do you have my number?

D : dick pics?

C : We just settled for a hundred thousand why would I want your ‘dick pics’?

D : well you wanted my ass last night

C : That was different

D : yeah? Why?

C : One time only.

---

D : I am going to paint you in the whitest white

C : -frowny face-

D : come

D : jizz

D : spunk

C : You are awful and not funny.

D : im freaking adorable

D : and ur still sending me dick pics

C : I’m hanging up now.

D : you cant hang up texts

---

S : you slept with him?????

D : i am a weak man

S : why did he sleep with you???

D : you’ve seen my ass

S : pls dont remind me

---

D : Cas

D : Cas

D : Cas

D : so im in london

C : Why?

D : bored

D : not much to work on rn

D : going sightseeing

C : Did you really come here for a ‘booty call’?

D : i can hear that in your voice and its hilarious

D : u should call

D : guess what im wearing rn

C : Send me a pic.

D : you free?

C : Maybe

D : so i made the glitteriest glitter

D : and brought some 4 u

C : Why glitter, and pink?

D : srsly, have u met me

C : Unfortunately.

D : cmon babe lets make some art together

---

S : why is the wedding in chicago

D : were getting married at the bean

S : you really want to ruin your marriage before you actually get married

D : shut up

D : itll be great

---

C : Why am I marrying you?

D : bcause you have the hots for me

D : bcause i challenge u artistically

D : bcause you cant get enough of my pink

C : We are not getting married at the Cloud Gate

D : babe

D : your an angel and you take me to heaven

C : You are insufferable.

D : and yet you love me

C : Yes. I do.

C : -smiley face-

#pecanpiedean #destiel #art au #fucking kapoople au dont ask #texting fic #drunk fic #just go with it

[trendingnewsb]

The Right Can’t Fight the Future

It seems axiomatic that the past and the future cannot exist at the same time. Thanks to the space-time continuum, people from different centuries cannot live simultaneously. The same goes for a nation, which cannot survive pulling toward the future and toward the past at once.

The United States is at a fulcrum. We are two countriesone lurching for the future, one yearning for the pastthat cannot live together, because we cant be both things. Donald Trump may have brought on the breaking point, but he didnt create the schism. It was already there for him to exploit. It was there during enslavement, when President Lincoln declared that the country could not survive half slave, half free, and it took a civil war to force these two nations: one brutal but pastoral, the other urban and focused on finance and technological innovation, often with its own kind of cruelty, to remain under one roof.

Today, Trump is speeding us toward declinethe very decline his supporters so feared. His imperious leadership; his familys grubby pretense at royalty and the apparent mad dash among members of his cabinet and White House team to hawk their positions for cash and luxuries have the feel of a decrepit regime looting the palace in its final days; stuffing the silver in their coats as they flee into exile.

Trumps announcement of anachronistic trade tariffs this week was portrayed as out of the blue, but it was no such thing. Trump ran on ending multilateral trade agreements and recreating an America of the distant past that culls every human and material resource from within. Republicans who are now in full blown freakout over a potential trade war voted for exactly what theyre getting.

In every way, Donald Trump is a president built for the past; a benighted, late 19th Century figure who spun his supporters a tale that he could restore a bygone era when coal fires burned, factories hummed, steel mills belched out soot and opportunity and a (white) man with a sturdy back, a high school diploma and a song in his heart could buy a little house, marry a little wife and have 3 cherry-cheeked kids he didnt ever have to cook or clean for, plus if he can afford it, a hot mistress on the side. Trump is the slovenly but brash, gold-plated emblem of a time when in the imagination of his followers, black women hummed a tune while they cleaned your house or did the washing, black men tipped their hat on the street but didnt dare look you in the eye, and neither would dream of moving in next door. A time when women asked their husbands for an allowance, not their boss for a promotion, men were allowed to be men complete with ribald jokes and a slap on the fanny for the pretty secretary at work, and there were no gays, no trans people, no birth control they somehow just didnt exist! The rural folks were the salt of the earth and we only let in a certain kind of immigrant whose only goal was to shake off his ethnicity and assimilate. Everyone went to (separate) church on Sundays and everyone got along. Its a plasticine world that for many must feel like it truly existed, though of course it never did.

Going backward, to a world without ambiguity on race, gender and work is a powerfully attractive idea, particularly for those who fear losing their cultural and social hegemony as the nation browns, and their economic ascendancy as technology creates new industries they scarcely understand.

But heres the thing: the past really is past. Coal is still a dying industry and America will never again have an industrial revolution. Its other countries turn to do that now. Black and brown people arent giving up our dignity, including the right to protest and to survive mundane encounters with police. Immigrants arent going away (and in fact we need them to keep the economy and the safety net flush). LGBT people arent going back into the closet. And women are staying in the workforce, with many aiming to become the CEO, while insisting on hanging onto our reproductive liberty. There is indeed a sizable minority of Americans who want to go back to the old times. But we arent going back.

Neither is the world.

While we regress, the rest of the planet will go right on trading without us. Tariffs on other countries will invite tariffs on us (Europe is already considering levying them on everything from Levis to Kentucky bourbon to Harley Davidson motorcycles). And protectionism will protect zero American jobs, while hiking the prices of everything we buy thats made with aluminum and steel, from cars to washing machines to pots and pans. Donald Trump, who never built a building with American steelpreferring the Chinese variety insteaddoesnt care about any of that. He only cares about the show. And he always gives his people a good show. But the economy does care. And America will pay a price for their P.T. Barnum president and his temper tantrums.

Meanwhile, there is another America, which is busy concerning itself with the future. Its the America that produces two-thirds of this countrys economic output, though it represents just hundreds of counties versus Trumps thousands. Its the America that objects to Russian interference in our elections, that welcomes immigrants and their economic contributions, that recognizes that even ancient institutions like marriage can modernize, that views womens full equality as a boon not a threat to civilization, that doesnt want to be ruled from Biblical texts or by a savage gun lobby, and that wants America to be a part of the world, not its creaky, cranky, lonely adversary.

In particular, young AmericansMillennials and post-Millennials, have had enough of our tired wrangling. Theyre sick of the Baby Boomers social agonies and the clenched grip of the World War II generation on American social and political life. They want an end to throwback rigidity on guns, gays, and religion. And they neither respect nor revere the current president of the United States.

Far from becoming more conservative with time, young Americans are staying right where they were when Barack Obama was first electedon the left of centerif not growing more progressive. Its why Republicans are so keen to suppress their votes. Where my generation, Generation X, polls at 51-41 percent blue over red, for Millennials the Democratic-over-Republican preference is a daunting 62-29, while Boomers are 48-46 D versus R and their parents, in the Silent Generation, tilt Republican 51 to 45 percent. The main reason for the increasing liberalism of the younger cohorts? These generations (including the youngest group, Generation Z) are chock full of young people of color. They are the most racially diverse generation in modern American history. And by next year, Millennials will be the single largest generational group in America, with their ranks swelled by immigrants (which explains the urgent right wing push for mass deportation.)

Does anyone really believe they will somehow morph en-masse into NRA-obedient, Fox News-zombie, anti-gay, anti-woman, anti-immigrant, maniacal healthcare destroyers wholl vote for serial sexual predators? Sure, the so-called alt-right can nab some Millennials to conduct their meme wars and more extreme members for their torches and khakis brigades, but truth be told, the majority of their peers are abandoning them or even refusing to date them. Young Republicans are more likely than their older counterparts to have left the party after Trumps election, with nearly a quarter of those aged 18 to 29 doing so during Trumps first six months in office. They live within a popular culture that tilts overwhelmingly to the other side; one where NBA players are hanging out at the museum rather than going to the White House, and openly calling the Republican president a bum.

With its broad and seemingly absolute power over the country, the Republican Party may not feel like it is dying, but it is dying nonetheless, at the hands of youth and multiracial population growth. The GOP can rush to install voter suppression traps and other restraints on change to try and keep the tide from coming in. But it will come anyway.

For the Democrats, the challenge is that they havent exactly built themselves for the future either. They will benefit from the coming wave because they are the default vehicle for the futurists ambitions. But that doesnt mean they wont have to change as well, by delivering on the soon-to-be largest generations demands, so they truly believe that political participation is a meaningful path to progress.

Perhaps the biggest challenge future-facing America faces is that past-craving America has a dogmatic and consistent voting base and a determined and persistent ally: Russia, which alongside its embedded mercenaries from the so-called alt right are harnessing maturing modern tools like social media to keep the futurists at bay. But we wont have a president who cuddles up to Russia and neo-fascists forever. Eventually, the fight against them and their propaganda will be joined in earnest and won.

The future is coming. It cannot live alongside the past. And in the end, it cannot be stopped.

Read more: https://www.thedailybeast.com/the-right-cant-fight-the-future

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2GC1MlX via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #38: Stories.

Written: 2/5/2017

Shifting nervously in his chair, he looked down at the expectant child (who he believed to not resemble him) in their bed, confused about their question towards him. “You want a what?”

“A bed time story.” The kid responded. Mechanically, the father picked up a children’s book that was lying on the floor, opened it to the first page, but the child smacked it with its grubby little hand. “No!” It screamed, and started jerking, spasmodically, in its bed. “You have to make it uuuuup! Like in the movies!”

The father put his face into his hands, mumbling “Do I have to?”

“YES!” The child began to chant this, jumping around in their bed, refusing to go to sleep and give their father some peace.

The father sighed, checked his watch-a quick story couldn’t hurt-and gave in to the request.

Once upon a time there was a bold prince, who was smart and handsome but had been trapped in a castle by an evil ogre who constantly demanded him to tell stories. At first the prince was unwilling, so the ogre left the castle and destroyed a village, threatening more destruction unless the prince gave him more stories. This was an easy task, at first, but as time went on it became harder and harder for the prince to tell any stories, his imagination was only limited, and the ogre would punish him every time he told a story that sounded the same. If the prince couldn’t come up with a story for the night, the ogre would destroy another village, leading half of the countryside to be destroyed, in flames, and farmers and villagers wandered around, homeless, searching for food, shelter, or safety.

Because of this ogre’s selfish and mindless destruction, these refugees were quickly taken advantage of by bandits, marauders, ne’er-do-wells. These bad men would promise the refuges what they needed, but it all came with a terrible price. One farmer needed food to feed his family, he had twenty children to feed and his crops had all been trampled, so the bandit king

“What did he look like?”

Uhh, he was ten feet tall, had a big beard that was filled with feathers, knives, bones. His teeth were sharp and yellow, he wore a crown made out of the rubble from destroyed houses, and his nose was broken and always running with blood.

“What was his name?”

Um, King Killbeard

“Thats a dumb name.”

Are you going to let me tell the story or what? Anyways, Killbeard is dealing with this farmer, the guy just wants to feed his family-ya know? And Killbeard tells him ‘Aye, I’ll keep your kids nice and fed, but you gotta either pay me with a hundred coins of silver, or give them over to me as workers.’ The farmer didn’t have any money to give, and had no way of giving it, but if he refused the offer he knew for sure that his children would either starve or be eaten by wolves, so he had to give them as workers and they had to serve him by cleaning out his beard, chewing his food, picking up all of the bandits poop, putting apples on their heads so the bandits could shoot arrows at them, but eventually, they had to work in the mines.

“What does any of this have to do with the prince?”

The father had to ponder this for a second, he was getting a little off topic.

Okay, so like the prince is the one in charge of the kingdom right? Nobody can give any orders without him there, the armies are waiting back at his castle, and all the while the ogre is tearing up the kingdom, Killbeard is taking over the destroyed land, his troops gaining larger, wealthier, and better equipped every day, with nobody to stop him. At one point the ogre tells the prince about the bandits, using it as a further threat, maybe an incentive, to get the guy to tell him more stories. The prince gets on his knees, starts crying and stuff, snot running down his nose in huge bubbles, and begs the ogre to stop the bandits so that the kingdom wont fall to evil. The ogre ponders this, and then tells the prince that if he can tell two stories a day, for a fortnight, then the ogre will take care of the bandits. However, the prince has trouble coming up with even one story a day, so the bandits continue to get out of hand.

Years go by and the prince is now an old man, all frail with a long white beard, and the kingdom is almost completely destroyed, and Killbeard has begun to plan to take over the royal castle, which is the last structure that the ogre has not destroyed. The royal troops could easily take down the bandit army, but they have nobody to give the order, so they just wait inside of the castle. At this point, most of the refuges have either had to become bandits themselves, or slaves, and hope has completely been wiped out from the kingdom, all due to the ogres greed, the en-

“No! That can’t be the end, it has to be happy!”

The father was pretty annoyed by this request, but mostly at himself since the moral in the story went right over his kid’s (well, if the child was actually his, and not the bastard offspring of his wife and his best friend) head. It was time to take another route, and maybe the kid would stop asking after tonight, so what could be the harm.

Okay. Okay. So, every things all bad right? Well, uh, remember those kids that were sold to Killbeard? One of them, lets call him Grimble, had escaped from the bandit king at an early age and had runaway to live in the mountains. Now, on his own the kid was scared, vulnerable, and lost, but more importantly he was starving. There was no time for him to eat, or even rest, because some of Killbeard’s troops were right behind him, hunting him down, and he had to keep moving.

Now, when he grew to tired, climbing up Mt. Wonder, he had to rest on a ledge and could see the bandits below. At first they hurled insults at him, like “booger face” or “butt nose”, but these weren’t very effective since the child was too tired to hear. Then they decided to hurl stones at the kid, and these proved to be more effective. Eventually this got boring for them, and they decided, when the kid had fallen asleep, to climb up there and get him, so they could eat him or whatever they did. You know, bad guy stuff. So they’re climbing up, and the kids sleeping, and all the sudden he wakes up and sees this bandit staring him right in the face, and goes to stab the kid with his dagger, which is also his hand, but then there is a bright light that hits the bandits and evaporates all of them. The kid looks up to see what saved him, and not to far above him, on another ledge, there is a wise old wizard looking down at him.

The wizard lowers a rope down to the kid, and lets him into the cave, that is also his home, on the side of the mountain.

“What’s the wizard like?”

Well, the wizard is a.. Uh… She’s an old woman, like your grandmother, but her hair is made out of light and long and wild, it covers most of her. She wore bright yellow and brown robes, and didn’t have any eyes. Her name was… Magiciferous. Now, Magiciferous takes the kid on as her apprentice, but it doesn’t take long for her to realize that the kid is just unable to learn any magic, he wasn’t born with the magic gene, but one day she takes him out to learn how to forage on the mountainside, and they stumble upon a kid (you know, the mountain goat baby), who is trapped on a high rock, with wolves below, waiting for the poor thing to slip, scratching at the rock, snarling and barking, snapping with their teeth. Seeing what the child will do, Magiciferous refuses to help the poor animal, so, not wasting any time, the child quickly leaps, lands on the rock, snatches up the kid in his arms, and hops back to the ledge with the wizard, bringing it to safety. After this task was done, the old wizard smiles.

The child asks, ‘Whats so funny?’

The wizard responds, ‘Nothings funny, you have passed my test!’ She waved her hands and the wolves disappeared.

‘So does that mean I can cast spells now?’

‘No no no, its impossible for you to harness the power of magic, but you have something better! The heart of a hero!’

So, in order to get teach the child how to become a hero, she starts training him night and day so that he became an expert at using a sword, even being able to cleave a boulder right in half, became super muscular, eventually being able to create tunnels in the mountain with his fists, and he became skillful with his heroic duties, like making his bed, doing the dishes, and eating his vegetables.

The father paused to try to get that to sink in, but the kid only looked impatient.

Whatever. Eventually, when he turned 18, the hero became old and strong enough to go on the quest to save the kingdom. The wizard had given him a map that would lead him to the magical sword that he would need to slay the ogre, and also he received a bag that was always full of jellybeans, so he would never go hungry, a ring that allowed him to see in the dark, so he would never be afraid, and a blanket that made any surface he slept on extremely comfortable. He also had his trusty companion by his side, who was the goat that he had saved earlier in the story, who was now as big as a horse and was ridden by the hero, but was also skilled enough to fight at his side.

The hero rode the goat to the bramble forests, where many of Killbeard’s men were located, but which also contained a ravine that had the magical sword at the bottom. When the hero and his companion traveled through, the had to go above and below the bandit’s camps, making sure to not be noticed when they would reach the ravine. However, although they reached their destination unnoticed, they were dismayed to find that the bandits had set up one of their child mines on top of it, and had a small army of men guarding it. Accidentally, the hero and his companion had stumbled out of the bushes and were in full view of the bandits, who sounded their alarms and rushed the hero, who dismounted his goat, pulled out his sword, and they had a great fight.

The hero and the goat were surrounded by bandits, fifty of them, who had formed a circle who surrounded the heroic pair, who were back to back. As the bandits closed in on them, the goat knocked them into the forest with its mighty horns, the hero cut down ten with one cleave of his sword, the goat bucked one bandit into the bandit’s clubhouse, which crumbled when it was struck, the hero punched the ground, causing it to shake, and the remaining bandits fell to the ground. There were only about four left who were still able to fight, and they were quickly willing to surrender. The hero instructed the goat to watch them, to make sure they wouldn’t escape, and then went into the mine. He stood at the entrance and called for all of the workers to come out, and was surprised to see his siblings, who were small, malnourished, and starving! The hero wanted to cry, because of what had happened to his family, but as a single tear trickled out he sucked it up, back into his eye, and decided to cry later. He had work to do now. So, to solve his immediate problem, he turned his back upside down and jellybeans poured out, and they kept coming until they formed a pile as large as the garden shed out back. The siblings crowded around it, eating quickly, and the hero rushed into the mine.

Too bad the miners were to busy eating to be able to warn the hero about the ghost.

So, the hero is wandering down into the mine, it should be dark enough to get him lost but with that magic ring of his he can see everything clearly and its easy to find his way down. While he’s traveling he looks at his magical map every now and then to make sure he’s going in the right direction, but when he gets to where the magical sword is supposed to be its nowhere to be found! The hero looks for quite some time, but cannot find it, and then the mine gets freezing cold, to the point where the hero can see his own breath, and he feels a presence in the mine with him. He turns around and sees a hooded knight, with only darkness for a face, wielding the magical sword. It goes to strike the hero, but he quickly jumps out of the way and unsheathes his sword. A second blow arrives, the hero blocks with his own sword, but then is dismayed when it is shattered! Afraid, not knowing how to deal with the ghost, the hero devises a quick plan and starts punching rapidly into the walls of the mine, tunneling quickly.

Now, as he tunnels the ghost knight is right on his heels, swinging wildly, trying to turn the hero into a ghost. However, the ghost isn’t paying attention to the direction of the tunnel, and the hero goes up into a loop and lands back into an earlier part of the tunnel, causing a steep drop. Knowing this ahead of time, the hero is able to tuck and roll out of the way and land safely, but the ghost knight is unaware and falls flat on his face, dropping his sword, which clatters away down the tunnel. Now, this was all a part of the hero’s plan, but there was one thing he didn’t account for, and that was that the sword had fallen further down the tunnel, and the ghost was now closer to it than the hero was!

The hero made a dash for it, tried to leap over the ghost, but the knight grabbed the hero by the ankle, tripping him, causing the hero to fall to the ground. The knight tries to climb over him, and they’re both tumbling around, trying to reach for the sword. The knight is on top of the hero, but the hero punches him right in the face, knocking his hood off, revealing that the ghost was all along-

He was actually exciting himself when he told this part of the story, but had to arrive at an abrupt stop when he noticed that the kid, who probably wasn’t his kid, was sound asleep. He wasn’t sure for how long this was happening, and even considered waking the kid up, but decided against it and slowly got out of his chair, tip-toed out of the room, and gently closed the door. The story could just be resumed the next day, since the hero still had to get the sword, slay the ogre, rescue the prince, fight Killbeard and hold the him off long enough for the goat to secretly take the prince back to the castle, so he could give the order and the army would come in and save the day.

Walking into the kitchen, the father quietly opened several cabinets until he found the one that had the whiskey, and took a couple swigs. It was always a challenge to find since he always found it in a different spot when he was drunk, and he wouldn’t always drink so much if he didn’t worry about the blood relation to the now sleeping kid. He started to think about all of the characters he could add in along the way, maybe the hero could form a group of knights on his path to save the prince? Or would it make more sense to have them form afterwards? What if there was a magical wizard who could turn into animals, maybe a sister of Magiciferous, who could pretend to be a rat in the prince’s cell and give him stories so he could hold the ogre at bay long enough to keep the castle intact. Wanting to write this all down, he looked for pens and paper, but had trouble finding any. While he looked he drunk, and the more he drank the more he forgot about his task at hand and decided to just go to bed.

Not bothering to turn on his bedroom light, he walked into the darkness of his room and fell face down onto his side of the bed. As he lied there with his face in his pillow, his hand reached over to feel his wife’s side, which, like always, was cold. He tried to hold back tears, but like every night this only made him focus on the issue, and he turned to a sobbing wreck. When the crying got out of control he buried his face further into the pillow, so as to not wake up the kid. Several pictures came into his head, like always: his wife cooking French toast in the morning, her in his arms when they danced at their wedding, her waving goodbye as she walked into the airport, the news reports that killed his happiness.

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #February