mr.capps posted:

caillou is the only cartoon character you are allowed to have a righteous rage against in real life

god i hate that kid

atomicthumbs posted:

im persecuted lawyer computerstomper58. i first started hearing broadcasts from the worldwide communist gangster computer god when i was about 12. by 14 i got really obsessed with the concept of “the communist parroting puppet gangster scum-on-top” and tried to channel it constantly, until my thought process got really bizarre and i would repeat things like “computer god sealed robot operating cabinet” and “i’ll give it to you to suck! finish him!!” in my head for hours, and i would get really paranoid, start seeing assassins in the corners of my eyes etc, basically prodromal schizophrenia. im now on gangster government eyesight tv gngster spy cameras. i always wondered what the kind of “felonious” style of sneak shameless hangman rope gangster government was all about; i think it’s the unconscious leaking in to the conscious, what jungian theory considered to be the cause of schizophrenic and schizotypal syptoms. i would advise all people who get this letter to be careful because that likely means you have a predisposition to being in worldwide living death frankenstein slavery. peace.

A GLISTENING HODOR posted:

That girl skipping up to the dweeby news reporter and saying "gently caress me right in the pussy" and then the anchor ladies laughed at him was awesome and made that meme 100% worthwhile so that goon is horrible and joyless.

Enhydra lutris posted:

An Interesting Fact is that "Bear" is a Euphemism [Gentle Phrase] for a Large and Hairy Homosexual Man; "Otter" is a Euphemism for a Thin and Hairy Homosexual Man; I was informed of this by the Fab Goons; I am Large and Hairy; I also wear Spectacles; I could refer to my self in a Light Hearted Fashion as a Spectacled Bear (Tremarctos ornatus); but I am not a Homosexual so I can not use this Term. Here is a Photograph of a Spectacled Bear with prominent Markings; it is a Handsome Bear.

Heresiarch posted:

Mendrian posted:

Sometimes I think, we've come so far. And other times I think, where the gently caress are we.

GAINING WEIGHT... posted:

I've never heard of this meme and it sounds stupid as hell but I'm crying laughing

Moltke posted:

White privilege now says that a white person can dye their skin and be any race you want to be as long as you believe it in your heart. The future is finally looking up for white people.

Puppy Galaxy posted:

Super Waffle posted:

Anyone got the post made by some mod detailing his method for meeting women, which consisted of wearing distinctive clothing and striking up conversations with every girl he could, then obsessively scanning his local Craigslist Missed Connections page for any mentions of him?

Say Nothing posted:

Semprini posted:

Oh god, one of the Twin Towers just fell over!

Thump! posted:

WATCH MCMAHON START A loving WAR

The Fuzzy Hulk posted:

I like how how this thread won't die (unlike everyone on the plane)

Kawasaki Nun posted:

My top peak to date was in highschool, you son of a bitch.

at the date posted:

yeah, my life peaked in 5th grade tbh

EVA BRAUN BLOWJOBS posted:

Your life peaked when your dad came.

Kung Fu Fist gently caress posted:

incest is not a thing to joke about bud

Tiny Lowtax posted:

Yesterday watching TV with the wife there was some gross fat dude with 3 chins. Without thinking I said, "I'm the dude's 3 chins".

My wife just looked at me like what the gently caress.

drat you, AUG thread.

canyoneer posted:

I grew up in a really wealthy family. We lived in a small-ish rural community on the highest hill, and my dad was a fixture in local politics. I don't meant to boast, but things were really good and the whole family had a very comfortable life thanks to the wealth and influence of my father.
When I was young, my father unexpectedly died in a climbing accident. We were all devastated, and the empire that he had built fell apart rapidly. I ended up leaving home at a young age to go live with some friends of the family while mom tried to pick up all the pieces at home.

It was a really bad time for me, but I grew a lot personally when I went from a position of privilege to a humble upbringing with a couple of hippies. I'm so embarrassed now about how angsty and awful I probably was as a teenager to them, but they were so patient with me and remain mentors to me even today. I moved back home in my mid teens, now that I would be able to be more of a help than a burden to my mother.

Things were so bad. The property was in disarray, and unscrupulous scavengers swept in to fill the void left by my father's passing. I was surprised to see that my dad's brother was living there now. I adored that uncle when I was a kid, but learned over time that he was a manipulative, lazy mooch leeching off the family's wealth. He was still doing so, and was responsible for squandering almost all of it away.

I confronted him about it outside, and we ended up in a shouting match. He tried to justify his spending, and eventually even boasted that he was responsible for my dad's climbing accident. I lost my mind. I jumped on his back and started beating him down. I had never really been in a fight before, but I was stronger as a teen than my old, out-of-shape uncle. I shoved him, and he fell backwards off a ledge. He was dead when he hit the ground. The scariest part was that I didn't feel anything but satisfaction that I had killed him.

I didn't end up suffering any legal consequences for it, as everyone else nearby hated him too and it was never really investigated. It worked out great for me. I ended up marrying my half-sister and becoming king of pride rock and the whole surrounding savanna.

canepazzo posted:

canyoneer, mocking a reddit thread about killing in self-defense, (which obviously instantly became "Times I was a badass")

canepazzo posted:

canyoneer, mocking a reddit thread about killing in self-defense, (which obviously instantly became "Times I was a badass")

A GLISTENING HODOR posted:

These kind of misdirect stories own and I love them.

A GLISTENING HODOR posted:

These kind of misdirect stories own and I love them.

pentyne posted:

Wasn't there a multi-page E/N thread like that, and some people picked up on it early but didn't say anything and let all the other posters tear into the OP?

Smythe posted:

Future Style Prediction: Sexy gothpunks with cybermanced implants. Lithe girls in 4 inch lucite heels have chains from their bull ring to their navel piercing. everyone gets the jane from daria haircut

Reality: Girthy MRA PUAs manspread on an underfunded light rail line while reading hate speech on a 4.6" black rectangle

Bip Roberts posted:

Maybe if you get a divorce you can get at least one of your balls back in the settlement.

Jamwad Hilder posted:

someone post the one where haoma critiques a goon's fantasy story

"NuclearEagleFox!!! posted:

A couple nights ago, I came up with the idea of being "In Snap", a state of mind where time slows down and you become highly aware of your surroundings, even to the point of being able to see near-past and near-future events. I liked the idea, and started trying to fill out the world. The part about having to take painful drugs to get into Snap came next, then the main character being able to do it freely, and then the part about the Eyes in the sky. It all fell together rather quickly actually.

Without further ado:

What is snap?

They said it burned, but I wouldn't know. You stuck the needle in, and it burned, they said. Then it spread. The poison moved through your veins, burning everywhere. Then you're consumed entirely by the flames in your blood. Some people took painkillers, but that didn't help. Some people drowned themselves trying to parch the flames. Some people simply died from the pain.

Then it stopped, all at once. Instant relief. It felt good, really good, they said, it was arousing, they said. Some people took the drug just for this feeling.

But most people, most people took it for what happened next. That euphoric relief made you feel light, really light, weightless even. Then you stood up, or sat up, because you'd fallen over. You looked down and see you'd left your body. You weren't worried. You couldn't feel worried. You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't touch, hear, taste or smell. You could only see. Oh, and what things you saw! Everything was brighter, more vivid somehow. You could see everything in almost infinite detail. You could see things that were just there, and things that were just about to be. They called it Snap.

Time was strange in Snap. Inside, time moved at a very slow, plodding pace, but Outside, everything was moving along just the same as it was when you left. Sometimes people lost years in Snap, they came out of it to find everyone they loved had moved on. My mother, well she...she..

I forgot to tell you how it ended. Eventually, the drug wore off, and in Snap, you felt this tugging, and suddenly you were being pulled along, it got faster and faster, accelerating to blistering speeds. Its a rush, it was the rush. It pulled you back to your body, because you'd wandered away. You fell into your body again and woke up Outside.

It wasn't all fun and adrenaline though. Sometimes people felt the rush, they got pulled back, but their body was dead. They became stuck, rooted to their body, unable to move, unable to die. They were stuck there forever, or however long their body lasted. How terrible that feeling must have been, watching time pass in that slow, aching way.

This world they called Snap was formed from humanity's collective memory. It was for the most part exactly like Earth, like the Outside. Even though it was a sort of dreamworld, you couldn't change anything, it would be your mind pushing against a billion others, see? I mean, for the most part it was accurate, but something was wrong with the sky.

No one looked at it, almost as if they couldn't. I could, and I tried to get other people in Snap to look, I jumped around and pointed at the sky, trying to get them to see what was wrong, but they shrugged it off as if they didn't even know the sky was there.

You know what was wrong with it? Of course you don't. It was pitch black, all the time, day or night, always black. Black black, deep black. Sure, there was light enough on the ground, but where did it come from? I never saw any sun, or moon, or stars for that matter, all I could see in the sky was the Eyes.

The Eyes were always there, two of them, directly overhead. Brown eyes, looking down, always looking down, and you know what? Whenever I looked up at those eyes, they were always looking at me. At me. Why me?

-----

Any critiques welcome. And is this worth writing more?

Haoma posted:

What is snap?

TheyThe auxiliary characters of my narrative, who existed in time and space and maybe could be described as my infantile college dorm buddies Greg (we called him Greggy Gay Face) and Antonio said it burned, but I wouldn't know. Why not? Because I was clinically diagnosed with being an Aspergers retard who doesn't know certain things. It made me a cliche piece of nerd poo poo and great at being kind of unknowing about poo poo, you know.. whatever, but at least it made me something. You stuck the needle in, and it burned, theyGreggy Gay Face and Antonio said, while we ripped huge bong loads and downloaded the Dark Knight Trilogy on our computers. Then it spread. The poison moved through your veins, burning everywhere. Then you're consumed entirely by the flames in your blood. Some people took painkillers, but that didn't help. Some people drowned themselves trying to parch the flames. Some people simply died from the pain. Some people did a number of other tersely described and fairly f*cking ominous things to avoid the flaming burning Greg and Antonio said would occur, or did occur, or had occurred, with the needle and the other in, in an ugly-*ss dorm room at Hofstra University, where me and my Super Smash Brothers Melee teammates hung out to, well, play Super Smash Brothers Melee, and also do ridiculously epic drugs.

Then it stopped, all at once. Instant relief. It felt good, really good, they said, it was arousing, they said. Some people took the drug just for this feeling. Those people Greggy Gay Face called "us". The characters in this narrative. 3 college freshman who think drugs are sweet but also that tiers absolutely f*cking exist which is why like 7 out of 10 SSB:M champions play either Marth or Fox.

But most people, most people took it for what happened next. Those people Greggy Gay Face called "most people", but what he really meant were people like us who definitely understood music was better on drugs, and that so were movies. And what happened next? Well I'll just g*ddamn tell you: That euphoric relief made you feel light, really light, weightless even. Lighter than weightless! Like you were floating. Like if you were the Princess Peach character and Bowser's smash didn't quite knock you out and you floated back real sweet on drugs and punched him in the nuts. High, I guess? Yeah, high. Then you stood up, or sat up, because you'd fallen over on the floor of your dorm room, where things were taking place in the narrative. You looked down and see you'd left your body. You'd look up and you'd see right into outer space! Ha ha ha.. Cool pun? Oh and BTW, not because the dorm didn't have a roof, but because you were insanely weightless on drugs. You weren't worried. You couldn't feel worried. You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't touch, hear, taste or smell. You could only see, which is a different sense than those senses, and possibly easier to describe. But I won't describe it. There were drugs. Well, what the heck, I'll describe it a little bit. Oh, and what things you saw! Everything was brighter, more vivid somehow you know what I mean? No? Well... somehow it was all sharp or something. From the drugs, I guess. There's Antonio, picking his ugly *ss Italian nose while nobody is looking. Greggy Gay Face is scraping the crud off the Nintendo Gamecube controller. Or were they? You could see everything in almost infinite detail which was nice, because infinite is a huge number, extremely large, and pretty much indescribable. But in a cool way. A drugs way. You could see things that were just there, and things that were just about to be. TheyGreggy Gay Face called it Snap, which Antonio said, "is a totally sweet name for it, the drug thing" and I said, "It is like a floating light. Which is intense and solid. Moving, but made of blocks".

Time was strange in Snap.It was exactly like playing the Super Smash Brothers: Melee slow motion mod, except slower and more infinite. Inside the Hofstra University dorm room where we played video games and I am also writing a book when classes are over, time moved at a very slow, plodding pace,that is to say, extremely f*cking slow from the drugs, which historically have been thought to be Bad but are actually Good.but Outside our dorm room, everything was moving along just the same as it was when you left. Other college children were going to classes and studying things, and maybe they would become bankers, or work at a factory. Who the f*ck knows? All I know is that Fox is my character, and its great because he is a Tier 1 character. And that Antonio plays Bowser like a baby b*tch. And Greggy Gay Face is also my friend who is at this moment on drugs with me.Sometimes people lost years in Snap, they came out of it to find everyone they loved had moved on. My mother, well she...she..was a b*tch!!!!! Stupid b*tch told me to study more. And do my homeworks. Well guess what, whoreslut, I'm in college now and I'm an independant Man who can do drugs if I freaking want to all day and you're just a divorced bad of non-infinite sobriety. Loser *ss bad Mom. B*tch! Drugs rule. They do things, that are infinite. But maybe I shouldn't be saying all this because you're dead or hurt or something terrible and suspenseful...?

I forgot to tell you how it ended. How what ended? It doesn't matter. They say things that don't end are still going on. And that a car crash having my b*tch Mom in it occurred. But I don't know. My college bills still get paid, so Whatever!!! Eventually, the drug wore off, and in Snap, you felt this tugging, and suddenly you were being pulled along, it got faster and faster, accelerating to blistering speeds. It was like if you and Greggy Gay Face were doing a arm wrestling contest or whatever, and it got extremely f*cking intense. And he looks at you with his BROWN EYES and you look at the GRANITE TABLE and there is some kind of LIGHT OF SOME COLOR and everything is fast and heavily drugs. Its a rush, it was the rush. It pulled you back to your body, because you'd wandered away. You fell into your body again and woke up Outside in the dorm lobby from doing too many sick f*cking drugs. But you don't give a crap because Mom had her head chopped off by a tricked out Hummer H3's windshield.

It wasn't all fun and adrenaline though. Sometimes Greggy Gay Face would leave and go to Church. Those days were called Sundays. But Antonio called them NoFunDays because we wouldn't do any ridiculously infinite drugs. Sometimes people felt the rush, they got pulled back, but their body was dead. They were dead people, and it would be dumb as sh*t to waste your drugs on them. Put those drugs in a body that can freaking feel how floaty it would become, and also kind of bad but in a real beautiful Mom's funeral kind of way. They became stuck, rooted to their body, unable to move, unable to die. They were stuck there forever, or however long their body lasted. How terrible that feeling must have been, watching time pass in that slow, aching way. Imagine something like the repeating undergraduate cadence of this narrative, but in real life, with drugs. Get the picture? I wouldn't know. Because I'm an autistic drugs guy who is practically f*cking unbeatable as Fox.

This world they called Snap was formed from humanity's collective memory one night when Antonio found a box filled with Ben and Jerry's ice cream and Greggy Gay Face got extra money from his money-giving, alive family to buy extra drugs... You could say the stars freaking aligned that night, in our collective memory or whatever. It was for the most part exactly like Earth, like the Outside. It was actually. Or maybe it wasn't? I wouldn't know. I've only traveled to other planets while on drugs. Which I was on, that night, in the dorm room and as a character in this narrative with my two aforementioned friends. Even though it was a sort of dreamworld, you couldn't change anything, it would be your mind pushing against a billion others, see? No? Me neither to be honest. But what the gently caress, right? I mean, for the most part it was accurate, but something was wrong with the sky. The Playstation was not as good as the Nintendo Gamecube. People said it was. They said it was good. But it wasn't. Why? I don't know. I do know, though: because it didn't have Super Smash Brothers: Melee, a game which is f*cking sick to play while high on drugs.

No one looked at it, almost as if they couldn't. To describe it: it was my face. It had all kinds of gross pimples and even pimples that formed on top of pimples. Pimples on top of pimples, sprouting off of other pimples. Why? Because in Snap, things became fractals. I could, and I tried to get other people in Snap to look, I jumped around and pointed at the skymy face, trying to get them to see what was wrong, but they shrugged it off as if they didn't even know the sky was there. I mean, my face. The one my dead mother who died gave me, half of anyways.

You know what was wrong with it? Of course you don't. I don't, either. Why? Because of drugs. They make everything kind of complicated but also mysterious and cool. It was pitch black, all the time, day or night, always black. Black black, deep black. Black as sh*t! Sure, there was light enough on the ground, but where did it come from? The black, probably, in some kind of reverse drugs bullsh*t I'm too high on drugs to get into right now. I never saw any sun, or moon, or stars for that matter, all I could see in the sky was the Eyes. The star is a powerful weapon. Lure your enemy next to you before you get it because if not Bowser will just stand on the far ledge and not get hit by it. You can direct it a little bit with your control stick. Why? Because that is how the Japanese game designers designed it.

The Eyes were always there, two of them, directly overhead. Brown eyes, looking down, always looking down, and you know what? There was a face there too, attached to the eyes through some kind of infinite Mom reverberation. And do you know whose face it was? Jimi Hendrix live at Woodstock. Why? Because his music owns... do I even need to mention especially so on drugs? I do? Ok. His music owns on drugs. Its better than normal. Because of the drugs.Whenever I looked up at those eyes, they were always looking at me. At me. Why me? Because I sat in front of it all the time probably, playing Super Smash Brothers: Melee and eating drugs. Why? Because my Mom died and I'm sad and I f*cking cry sometimes. My own eyes start to look at Jimi's eyes, and I'm like... this world is f*cked up. I told Greggy Gay Face that once, and he said, "You cry? You're a fag, dude." But I kick his rear end with Fox, my favorite and best character in Super Smash Brothers: Melee. A tier 1 character.

Jamwad Hilder posted:

I couldn't find the one I was looking for but here's another one:

Martello posted:

This is a revision of this Thunderdome entry. The prompt was "Time Waits for No Man" and the tarot card I received was the Page of Cups. It's medieval low fantasy, something I haven't messed with since my late teens. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I might actually keep going with this if people enjoy it.

*snipped out the story*

Haoma posted:

==========================

Sten ven Ambord sprawled on a campaign stool as his elders and betters argued over how best to cut off Kard Balen-Gror's army before reaching the Usurper's host encamped before Ambrigan Castle. Sten rode in his oldest brother Bron's retinue and rarely concerned himself with the things his mother and her captains discussed. Regardless, he would ride with Bron and kill his enemies. Did it matter where he rode or who he killed?

Sten ven Ambord? Kard Balen-Gror? Sprawled on a stool? Usurper Castle, etc. *Farrrrts* Who are these things and why should I give a f*ck. Maybe if the first paragraph introduced a dude named Douglas and his girlfriend, who was physically described as a big-breasted babe from a place famous for having tons of sexy girls, I'd know what the f*ck you are talking about.


"I'm convinced we must cross the Sawtooth Range to intercept Balen-Gror," Hilda said. "Going around on the Kingsroad past Eversham will take too long."

I agree, because those places I've heard of and care about and know have important things such as dragons or f*cking pirate toads or whatever steampunk baddies inhabit this gay world that run around and doing narrative things in environments described by words.

"My lady." Silver Karal raised his withered hand. "It's true, marching through Eversham valley won't be fast enough to catch Balen-Gror, but we can slow him with skirmishing actions enough that Usubren can reach the Usurper's host from the East to harry his flank."

Three paragraphs into this story and the first real image is of some old b*tches withered *ss hand. Maybe if it was attached to a sick mace crushing Usubren's Mom or jacking off one of the Usurpers consorts somewhere in a Eversham valley grotto (described with words, of course) I would get horney and not go back to watching House Hunters Internationl on the HGTV.


"We don't want to merely harry him," Bron said. "Usubren has fewer than three thousand men. If the Usurper attacks him they'll be cut to pieces."

"Indeed." Hilda tossed her long blonde braid over one shoulder. "Passage over the Sawtooths is our only choice."

"But how are we to effect the passage?" Karal said. "The Sawtooths are full of bandits. They will harass and slow us."

"True," Hilda said. "So we must bind these bandits to us. I'll go up seek their chiefs to parley."

THigns might happen involving people with really freaking gay names. Ones blond, I guess? And theres some bandits or whatever. What is the weather like? Where are these people freaking speaking to eachother. I'm more concerned at this point if these two f*cking white-a*s doctors want to go with House 2 with the attached villa or House 2 in the gated community of f*cktard Carribbean retirees because they are things that have sensory connec*FAAarrrrts*

Mors Tessarind, Hilda's pet bishop, stood. He was styled Archbishop of Keloden, but the Usurper still held the capital and his lover still sat the marble throne in St. Braghan's Cathedral. Tessarind was a religious figurehead as far as Sten could see, a justification for Hilda's loyalist rebellion. Not a bad fellow for it, and Hilda's sons knew that she was sleeping with him despite their attempts at secrecy.

I'm a big gay IT baby and I watch Game of Thrones and I went to see The Hobbit in theaters because Bilbo is a freakeing riot. THe orks get smashed! Theres swords and sorcery, which are things that excite me.

"Hilda, I urge you not to go yourself," Mors said, hands spread wide. "You are too important to this war to hazard death in a bandit ambush."

Hands spread wide out of F.R.E.A.k.I.N.G. Nowhere... Jesus!!! Just when I thought this was just a list of stupid gay names and idiot b*tch warlocks talking about some forest or something, some dude's hand spread out and ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzPPPPLOCK I get sucked into the narrative. I'm now IN this space. IM here with Hilda, sucking on a dog's dick and listening to the Bishop pet or whatever dry heave when the little globs of gross dog cum kind of spill out.

Hilda turned to him, ice-blue eyes burning, but her second son cut her off.

"He's right, Mother," Red Conar said. "Send me up. My Highlanders are perfect for it. And I hear there's a 'Bandit Queen,' supposed to be lovely." He showed his big teeth. "I'll charm this Queen out of her boiled leathers."

"Like you need more bastards," Hilda snapped. "No, you and your scouts are too valuable to risk. I need you to leave tonight and take the Kingsroad, follow Balen-Gror and keep us informed by pigeon."

The Bandit Queen sounds like the sexy babe this narrative has been lacking! I can't wait to get to the part in which she is gotten outed of her boiled leathers in a way which is at once described and involving dialogue transposed from a 3rd tier World of Warcraft guild chat. Epic!

"Yes Mother," Conar said good-naturedly. He left the tent to ready his banner of long-haired savages.

"Yes Mother," Boner Haver Dude said nice-erectionedly. Now THATS a sentence, f*cker.

"My lady of Modenset," the Pendraffin spoke up. "I would be happy to send some of my men into the mountains. They have hill-fighting experience aplenty."

Who the f*ck is Pendraffin and what kind of hands spread does he use as he speaks? Is he a bandit? Or a sick fu*king Ork slayer. Why do "his men" have hill-fighting experience? Last I checked hills are stupid loser places dumb&ss teenagers go to roll around and get pollen all over their shorts. IF thats fighting , then , well... *Farrrrts*

"No, my lord, it must be one of my family." She favored the Landgrave of Clyff Gror with a rare smile. "I mean no insult you you and your men, of course."

"None taken," the Pendraffin replied. Sten knew his mother didn't want the half-wild Cumri hillmen parleying with anyone. And sending half-pagan heretics as emissaries would hurt the rebellion's credibility as a righteous endeavor with the blessing of God behind it, even if they were only sent to deal with mountain bandits.

God? Hahahaha ok... I could believe the hill-fighters and the Pendraffin dragon or whatever. And the Bandit Queen with the sexy breaches the guy who Hildren's blond hair flapped at or whatever described, but ....GOD? Now you're just makeing poo poo up.

Hilda turned to Bron. "I want one of your lieutenants to go. I trust your men above the rest. Who do you recommend?"

"Send Sten," Bron said, pointing to his brother. Sten looked up at Bron with a start. "He's fought fiercely and with skill, and I believe he's ready to take his own entourage."

Hilda narrowed her eyes at her fifth son. "I believe you're right. Viklar's too busy talking to animals, and Taid is with Usubren in the East."

Sten stood up, but still said nothing.

Sten sounds like a stupid retard mute deaf standing up bastard idiot loser. Maybe your protagonist should be a muscled cool guy who stands up and says "I'LL FUC*ING SLAY THE CRAP OUT OF THE ORKS IN THE CRAWNSHAM FOREST AND SCREW THE BANDIT QUEEN IN HER LEATHER C*NT." ANd then he spreads his hands so freaking far apart they wrap around on themselves and he uses the wrapped-up knob hand to beat the crap out of Bron or whatever, the priest??? I don't even know who else is here or why Man must be put up against Food at this time of night. WHy..? Theres loving liquid chicken batter in this bast*ards stew and he is throweing a ton of peppers and some horse balls into it and this frumpy little f*cker is going to go up against it in some kind of fight??? What the gently caress is wrong with USA? *Needs to escape to the Crawnsham Forest or whatever it is called after working on computers al day*

"Pick twenty huskarls and fyrdmen from my banner," Bron said to him. "I suggest you give him some of Conar's Highlanders for this venture, Mother."

Hahahah is he talking about his freakeing boogers? Because they sound like him. And he calls his nose his 'banner'. Because that is about as interesting as Bron and his retard suggestion for some kind of highland venture? Describe the Mother. How big are her breasts? How much of a vagina does she wield? Can she fight hills with it?

"Make it happen." She put both hands on Sten's shoulders, her blue eyes level with his green ones. "You're 19 and ready for this responsibility. Go and represent us well, my darling. Turn these bandits to our cause, and guide us through the mountains to Ambrigan."

"Thank you, lady Mother," Sten said. "I will execute this mission well and faithfully." The formality was for the benefit of the other captains. He bowed and then kissed Hilda's cheek.

FINALLY... questions answered. Mother has blue eyes and Sten has green ones. And hes 19, which is an extremely horney age when boys want to have sex with girls, even if they are a Bandit Queen or just a hole in some stupid-rear end stump in the middle of the Crerwnshawn Forest on the way to BUllbery Pass to fight Gnarl-bok Thol.

****

Sten rode at the head of his column beside Donal TanCruath, cousin to Conar's icy wife Catrona and an experienced scout. Donal wore his hair in a long ponytail in the Highlander style, a fur cape over chainmail. Conar had assiged six scouts to Sten's banner, bringing his men up to thirty-five along with those chosen from Bron's command. Two thegns from the southern shires of his mother's lands, cousins named Gadwine and Wigherd Eadwaer, served as his lieutenants. His banner was filled out by fifteen huskarls, and the rest common fyrdmen but skillful and brave.

*Lifts up his leg, rolling onto the left butt cheek a little bit.* *Reaches down and give himself a nice rear end spread by pulling the right cheek upward and outward*

The Sawtooths were true to their name, sharp peaks rising on either side of the narrow passes. Two miles into the mountains, Sten had seen no life save for a few vultures wheeling overhead. Donal's scouts went ahead at times, and reported small signs of men here and there.

A few hours later, the bandits struck. Donal and two Highlanders had just returned to the column.

"My lord," he said. "We've seen movement ahead. We must proceed with great care."

*Starts to rip a really long, and gross fart which starts out like OOOOuuuumMMMFff and slowly transforms into a extremely loving epic SSssFfffTtttt rippling sound*

Sten grinned fiercely, his bloodlust rising. "Let them come to us." He turned and ordered his men to be on guard. He unlimbered his axe from the saddle-bow and shrugged his kite-shaped shield onto his left arm. The wooden shield, rimmed and bossed with iron, was painted a dark blue. The top-left quarter bore the ven Ambord red eagle, the top-right the Hrodlen silver tree and helm in honor of his mother's late father. Hilda ven Ambord was the only daughter of Viklar Hrodlen, and inherited his lands of Modenset as well as her husband's after his death. Bron was nominally the Earl of Ambord, and Conar the Landgrave of Modenset, but in truth Hilda still ruled both fiefs.

*Winces as he squeezes out all the juice of the fart, really wringing that sucker dry, getting out every ounce of Win from it*

Donal grunted to Sten's left as an arrow hit his left arm just above the rim of his round leather buckler. "Shields up!" Sten barked, wheeling his horse to face the rocks on his left. Arrows rattled among his column, he heard grunts and cries as some found marks. Men in fur, leather, and rusted mail rushed from among the rocks, howling and waving weapons. Sten's heart pounded and he felt a wild, ferocious joy fill his being. He lifted his axe and returned the bandit howl with the first few bars of his favorite bawdy song, "The Red-Haired Maid," at the top of his lungs.

*Eyes widen as a little spurt of slimy poo poo squirts out into his knickers*

"Her hair is red
Her eyes are green
She's the prettiest maid
I ever have seen!"

He always sang that song in battle. Sten spurred his horse at a man with a boar-spear. He jerked his horse to the left, neatly avoided a thrust, split the bandit's head with a backhand swing. Another lunged with a rusted sword, tip ringing off Sten's shieldboss. Sten's mare rose up and smashed her hooves on the bandit's chest, dropping him.

"Her breasts are full
Her hips are wide
Her haunches swing
In a bawdy stride!"

*Completely tips over onto his side so as to not allow the unwanted poo poo juice to seep through his knickers and stain his Mom's couch* *Mom walks in the front door, back from the Grocery store*

He spurred foreword again, Donal at his side, plying his broadsword among the bandits heedless of his arrow-wound. Sten knocked aside a spear-shaft and opened a man from shoulder to breastbone. Hot blood sprayed up into his face, and he laughed.

"She stands so bold
In the market square
She wiggles her hips
And tosses her hair!"


*Runs into the bathroom and takes a sudden shower, his fourth of the day*

The fight was over in less than ten minutes, only four of Sten's men dead. Most of the bandits were slain or fled, just a few left alive and captured. Wigherd Eadwaer called to Sten and waved him over with his bloodstained langsax. Sten dismounted and strode to where the thegn had a fat, hairy bandit on his knees, wrists bound in front of him. The man's right knee was wrapped in a bloody rag, and his eyes were downcast.

Wigherd Eadwaer. langsax. White woman are unattractive, they have flat asses and they are obnoxious, whiny little whores.

"This man was there leader, I warrant," Wigherd said. "I heard him shouting orders before I cut his knee out from under him."

Sten smiled a wolf smile. "Tell me where to find this Bandit Queen." He lifted the bandit's chin with his axe.

Summary so far: Things happened in a vacuum. Theres Orks and a Bandit Queen, I think.

"gently caress you, whoreson," the bandit said casually, refusing to meet Sten's gaze.

YEs.... Yes. YES... YES!!!!!!!! STORY REDEEMED

"If you knew my mother, you wouldn't have used such language," Sten said. He chuckled and winked at Wigherd. "She'd gut you alive and flay you to bridle her horse. But mark me, you impetuous fool. We came here to parley, not fight. These mountains will be my mother's by tomorrow, and we want to take them peacefully, make an arrangement with your so-called Queen."

The climax is a bandit named Wigherd talking about his mother. A mother who will at a later time possess mountains? *Watches KoRn videos on the internet*

The bandit scowled at Sten and said nothing.

"I haven't the patience for this kind of mummery," Sten growled. "Wigherd, turn him over to Donal and his men so they can question him the Highland way. I want to be moving in an hour, and for this Bandit Queen's lair."

"Yes, my lord," Wigherd said. He pulled the bandit to his feet as Sten walked away.

FOod wins. They purchased House #2. Western civilization is doomed and not even a million words about gay Orks and Bandit Queen matter for sh*t , if we dont learn to spread our hands and scream: "My mother, fights hills. And mountains. Don't gently caress with her!"

...Oh and BTW, I was referring to our Mother Gaia, who is the sickest b*tch in the Universe and we should all worship and respect, not destroy with huge tractors.

22 Eargesplitten posted:

Why does every nerd writer want to be a mix between Hemingway and Hunter S. Thompson?

GOTTA STAY FAI posted:

Neither of those guys had to worry about Mom hiding the N64 controllers until their homework was done

Al Nipper posted:

My wife exhibits several traits which I believe to be desirable in a human partner including ideal arrangement of physical features, success at her place of work, and commitment towards the standard goals of child rearing and home ownership. Furthermore my family is impressed that an (attractive) woman is interested in me.

Vete a jalar el pescuezo al pollo! Tu madre es puta y pendeja!!!!

nnghYes dear

Tiny Lowtax posted:

Yesterday watching TV with the wife there was some gross fat dude with 3 chins. Without thinking I said, "I'm the dude's 3 chins".

My wife just looked at me like what the gently caress.

drat you, AUG thread.

Mans posted:

Megaspel posted:

Vegeta was literally worse than Hitler, he's got to be like 10 Hitlers or something. He's personally wiped out villages, and assisted in the genocide of probably trillions of people. But hey, he's in a pink suit now so it's all cool.

Soylentbits posted:

Yeah but that got undone pretty quickly. Also he lives in a universe that's filled with bigger Hitlers.

Ernie Muppari posted:

there's always a bigger hitler

Sydney Bottocks posted:

Can what is dead ever truly die?

NTRabbit posted:

Only if it minds the fear killer

dpack_1 posted:

There was, i don't remember who by, but it turned out he was describing life as a literal bear, feeding his kids raw meat and such.