Given that I think “My Immortal” is a troll (with the reason generally being that author Tara references both Marty McFly and TOM BOMBADIL), I just reread it and I’m astounded by the effort put into it.
The spelling and grammar gets steadily worse over the course of the story, messing up simple words and even the main character’s name (variations on Ebony include Enoby, Enony, Eboby, and my favorite Enopby). The author gives frequent shoutouts in the A/N at the beginning of each chapter to someone called Raven, who she considers a friend and apparently functions as a beta. In chapter 16, Tara severs ties with Raven, expels/murders Raven’s character Willow, and changes Ebony’s full name to Ebony Dark’ness Dementia TARA Way. It’s suggested that they fought because Tara stole Raven’s poster of Gerard Way. By chapter 17, they appear to have made up and Willow is brought back with no further explanation.
The plot, of course, is just insane, but the story was obviously being read; Tara begins each chapter furiously ranting about “flamerz” leaving bad reviews, terribly misspelled. At one point, Ebony was referred to as a Mary Sue and she immediately tried to shut that down, citing “Satanism” and “depression” as flaws. She held each new chapter hostage, demanding a certain number (usually 5) good reviews before she would update. Assuming the spelling and grammar mistakes were intentional, the natural progression of them getting worse and worse is incredible. The difference between Tara’s A/Ns and Raven’s edited text is also astounding, although chapter 16, during their supposed rift, is not noticeably more poorly written than the chapters immediately preceding and following it.
The misspellings of character names and general slipups get worse and worse to the point that once, “Enopby” is referred to as “Tara”, and at another point, “TaEnby”, further to emphasize that Ebony is, in fact, the most obvious self insert in the history of literature. The reference to Marty McFly (he appears at the end of chapter 35 to spirit Ebony into the future) confounds me; Tara does not seem like she’d been aware of pop culture enough to have seen “Back to the Future”, given that she describes “The Nightmare Before Christmas” as this serious, depressing, Adult movie. She’s young enough to consider “he put his thingy into my tool” an accurate description of sex. Further, she references Tom Bombadil, a character in “Lord of the Rings” who I believe just shows up and sings for a while and is strongly implied to be God and then disappears, not really relevant to anything. He’s not even in the movies. Would Tara Gilesbie have read “Lord of the Rings” when she admits she’s never read the Harry Potter books?
Read through that lens (that this was an elaborate hoax), can you believe the rest of it was so organically terrible? Even now, 10+ years after the fact, no one can agree on whether this story is a troll, and until anyone finds out who Tara Gilesbie really is, it’s going to be impossible to know for sure. This is just crazy to me.
GUESS WHO’S DOING ANOTHER MM X PKMN CROSSOVER FOLKS In light of the news of Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon, I just had to make a sketch of the Choi Twins with new versions of Solgaleo and Lunala! Gonna complete this for the Choi Twins’ birthday on 11th June yay~
Text from Nichelle Nichols’ biography “Beyond Uhura”
Usually, though, Leonard remained Vulcan-cool. Perhaps the most elaborate hoax involved his son, Adam, who about eight years old while we were filming the original series. It required that Adam be fitted in a child-size Starfleet uniform and be made up, ears and all, to look just his daddy.
The script called for a scene on the bridge in which Spock would be sitting in the captain’s chair with his back t o the elevator door. A yeoman was supposed to enter and say some lines, at which point Spock was to spin around in his chair, so he was facing the yeoman, and continue their brief exchange.
They had Leonard’s son, in his Vulcan disguise, waiting in the elevator. The door opened, Adam delivered the yeoman’s lines, then Leonard turned to him and answered without breaking a smile or missing a beat.
We couldn’t get so much as a Spockian arched eyebrow out of Leonard. The real kicker came when Adam “stepped out of character,” so to speak, to say, “But, Daddy, I love you.”
“Thank you, Adam,” Leonard said evenly. As the whole cast and crew stood around in breathless anticipation of Leonard’s big crack-up, which never came, by the way, the joke was on us.
All aliens are by now intimately familiar with the reputation of humans as being fearless to the point of insanity, and, though still regarded with something resembling a mix of awe and terror, the quirks of humanity have by and large been accepted, even if the occasional new piece of information sends ripples of fresh shock or dismay through the alien community.
Until, that is, some poor alien humanologist comes across an old Terran show called “Crocodile Hunter”. At first, it is dismissed as a work of fiction (though the concept of fiction in film was something that aliens had also had difficulty grasping); surely, not even humans could be so mad as this “Steve Irwin” was purported to be.
It didn’t take the researcher long to find humans who remembered the show, despite the fact that it has now been centuries since it aired. To a one, they all insisted that, not only had Steve Irwin been a real person, and not only had he truly done all the bafflingly risky things portrayed on his show, but he had, in fact, DIED for his line of work.
Most alarmingly of all, to the aliens documenting this new piece of evidence, was how the Crocodile Hunter was regarded by the humans that remembered him. Whereas such a case of clear and utter insanity would serve as a warning to any other species that PLAYING WITH DANGEROUS LIFE FORMS IS A BAD IDEA, humans, without exception, look up to the Crocodile Hunter as an inspiration. The man who was to humans what humans are to the other civilized races, far from inspiring the fear and shock that OUGHT to be shown, spurred humankind to ever greater risks, to seek out and hug ever more deadly forms of life.
There are aliens who simply refuse to believe that Steve Irwin existed as the humans remember him, insisting that it must be an elaborate hoax, or a fictional character misremembered as real.
Surely, even humans could not be so mad as to idolize a man like the “Crocodile Hunter”.
Could you do one of the writing one-shot thingys where Prince gets upset about him not being able to find a princess or his true love, and Anxiety comes to the rescue to comfort Prince. If you could do this, it would really make my day!!!<3
Okay okay okay. I know what you are asking for, but I’m going to teak it a bit. You gave me a great idea and I’m going to run with it. So if you see where I’m going with this idea, send in more ideas for thing Anxiety can do for Prince.
“I have no purpose!” exclaimed Prince, throwing himself on the couch.
“Who told him?” Logic joked, and Anxiety had to bite back a snicker. Prince threw Logic a dirty look.
“There is no one to save. I have no princess. I have no love. I have no purpose.” Prince sighed dramatically.
“Now that’s not true. You just haven’t found her yet. That’s not a problem.” Morality urged, with a wink.
“Statically, you still have about 30-40 years before you would be too old to go on a quest.” Logic provided, setting a hand on Prince’s shoulder. Anxiety quietly walked out of the room, nothing he could say would help Prince any. And he desperately wanted to help Prince.
But what was the likelihood of Prince finding some girl to save? Or even some girl who would love him? Even someone to love him? Not that he was impossible to love, but what was the likeliness of love in general? Did love even exist or was it just a made up emotion?
Anxiety knew love like he knew heartbreak. Because who could ever love him? No one. It had to be make believe. A trick his mind played on him.
How else could he be in love with Prince? How else could he feel the need to cheer him up? How else could he feel the need to make Prince be happy again like he felt the need to breathe?
It had to be make believe.
But that didn’t stop Anxiety from finding Valerie. It didn’t stop him from setting up this elaborate hoax to prove to Prince he was worth something.
Because regardless of if it was real or not, he still felt it. Like a twisting knife in his chest. Anything was preferable than Prince being unhappy. So he plotted.
At dinner the next night, Prince was still moping.
“I heard about a girl who needs rescuing.” Anxiety casually remarked.
Prince perked up, “A maiden in need of a prince to save her?”
“Yeah, too bad you would mess it up.” Anxiety sneered.
“I would never mess it up!” Prince exclaimed, his heart racing. A chance to prove himself. Finally. “I will find her and save her!”
“Prince! At least wait until it’s morning!” Logic said, but the other was too determined to notice such insignificant details as the darkness of the night.
“Run along and save your princess so you’ll stop moaning about it.” Anxiety said.
Prince was gone in a flash. Logic turned on Anxiety.
“Why did you egg him on? He’ll get lost!”
“The gloom is supposed to be my job. Not his. If he kept it up, he would be taking my spot.” Anxiety smirked, before leaving the table.
Anxiety and Valerie had left an obvious trail for Prince to follow. There was a monster to defeat and a princess to save. They made up a fantastical story to complete the tragic tale.
All that was left was for Prince to complete the “quest”. And that would be easy enough for even him to do.
Anxiety could feel the knife in his chest twist a little more when he thought of the princess Prince was always wanting to save. A girl. Not him. Because he didn’t matter. He could never be Prince’s dream. He would never be good enough.
The next afternoon Prince got back with a glowing tale of monsters and villains and the beautiful princess waiting at the end. Alas, he was regretful to find out the princess had another betrothed, but she would forever be grateful to him and promised to give him any help he would ever need.
“There, Anxiety, told you I wouldn’t mess it up!” Prince gloated, “All the princesses will be begging for me to save them.” Anxiety felt his smile fall. All the princesses. Yes. Princesses. He would do well not to forget that.
“You might have won this time, but your luck won’t hold out.” Anxiety replied, and he quickly left the room, lest he give something away. Valerie had done her part. Now it was time for him to do his.
These images of the Hook Island Sea Monster were taken in 1964 by Robert Le Serrec. It was seen not only by Robert but by his family and a family friend. The creature is commonly referred to as a tadpole but is estimated to measure anywhere from 30 to 85 feet long. While nothing has been proven, this creature is thought to be an elaborate hoax using an incredibly long plastic tarp that is weighed down by sand.
CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Word Count: 1465 (Act
A/N: A five act mini-series.
The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the
missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. Whatever happened to
Sam and Dean Winchester anyway? Act IV is conveyed from the brothers’
perspective – their whereabouts and mischievous plotting revealed as the tables
are unexpectedly turned. Action-packed fluff-filled conclusion coming your way next week!
or gently encourage someone to do something.”
“Y/N sounded pissed,” Dean snickered, tone not at all
apologetic for the wild goose chase he and Sam sent you running on for the last
couple of days. Driving up to the motel you and the angel were staying in, he set
the Impala’s parking brake and smoothly released the clutch.
“Yeah, well Cas didn’t sound too pleased either,” Sam
pointed out, groping blindly for his bag in the backseat, “you of all people
know he hates being dicked around with. Well-meaning intentions aside, that’s
exactly what happened here.”
His words haunted him. Why did that matter? It shouldn’t. In fact, he should be grateful
that her relentless optimism had ceased. A healthy amount of fear for the Devil
wasn’t a bad thing, and it was about time Natalie started
She’s not even your problem
anymore. Why do you care?
He grit his teeth. It mattered
because he’d given up what remained of his wings for her. It mattered
because Death and Pestilence had brought her back wrong. It mattered
because he’d done it for the Natalie McAllister who knew him. The Natalie
McAllister who loved him.
The gospel is what made you ashamed to be yourself and live your life
The platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus), sometimes referred to as the duck-billed platypus, is a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal endemic to eastern Australia, including Tasmania. Together with the four species of echidna, it is one of the five extant species of monotremes, the only mammals that lay eggs instead of giving birth. The animal is the sole living representative of its family (Ornithorhynchidae) and genus (Ornithorhynchus), though a number of related species have been found in the fossil record. The first preserved platypus body was thought to have been a fake, made of several animals sewn together, when it was first looked at by scientists in 1799.
The unusual appearance of this egg-laying, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal baffled European naturalists when they first encountered it, with some considering it an elaborate hoax. It is one of the few species of venomous mammals: the male platypus has a spur on the hind foot that delivers a venomcapable of causing severe pain to humans. The unique features of the platypus make it an important subject in the study of evolutionary biology and a recognisable and iconic symbol of Australia; it has appeared as a mascot at national events and is featured on the reverse of its 20-cent coin. The platypus is the animal emblem of the state of New South Wales.
Ok! So this is a little something I wrote for Kinktober. Since I may not be able to do every day, I’m just going to write kinks I can think of when I have time. This one is with G and a nongender reader involving a smoking kink, as well as a bit of admiration and intrigue. I wanted to explore more with how G smokes and meeting him for the first time. Enjoy!
Begrudgingly you dragged yourself out of bed, wishing you could hit the snooze button a seventh time. A small shiver danced down your spine as your feet hit the cool floor and you groaned, “Ugh, gotta remember to set the thermostat again…” You quickly pad across the room and open your dresser, grabbing some jeans and a t-shirt. The brisk morning air made the warmth of your bed all the more painfully sweet, but you were determined to start the day off right…
The Premise: Jamie sends a dying Julia (aka Faith) and distraught Claire back thru the stones before he returns to the battlefield at Culloden, but there’s a catch.
Mother and daughter are separated on the journey.
Claire believes Julia to have remained with her father, and when she finds a small grave at Lallybroch bearing Julia’s name, it further solidifies this belief. Jamie, on the other hand, was left alone atop Craigh na Dun and believes his precious daughter to be in the future with his wife.
Julia was, instead, transported sixty years into the future ahead of Claire and grows up there. She is welcomed into a warm and loving family, but tragedy strikes as her adoptive mother is killed in a car accident. Three years later she is kidnapped by a band of buffoons looking for her birth parents.
October 30th, 2017; Somewhere in the middle of the woods. Julia.
The sun had set long before we got to where we were going, which was apparently somewhere in the middle of nowhere in North Carolina. It was pouring down rain and the windshield wipers could barely keep up. If I hadn’t been tied to it, I think I would have bounced out of my seat with the amount of potholes we hit. I swear Cruella was purposely hitting them all.
Our progress came to a stop quite suddenly and I wondered if we had hit something. Jasper unbuckled himself and moved to untie me. “Now, no–” he began.
Rolling my eyes as far as they’d go, I interrupted him, “No funny business, I know.”
The circulation to my hands returned in a rush and I rubbed them on the skirt of my school uniform to try to stop the unpleasant sensation. It didn’t really help. I peered out the front window, wondering where we were. A dim glow shone thru the downpour, but aside from that I had no idea what lay outside.
Horace slid open the door of the van and yanked me out into the freezing rain. He pulled me along beside him, straight thru the giant puddles that filled the front walk. A door opened ahead of us, illuminating our muddy path in a strange fluorescent light.
There was a man standing in the doorway, a silhouetted figure menacingly blocking our way.
“Here she is, boss,” Horace shouted to be heard above a roll of thunder and shoved me forward. I tripped and all but fell at his feet, whoever he was.
He steadied me with a firm grip on my shoulder as he held me out at an arm’s length for inspection. The light was still coming from behind him, shining right in my eyes and making it impossible for me to see. “Damn, you look just like him,” the figure commented.
Like who, my elusive birth father? This guy knew him too?
I felt like a guest on one of those prank shows. Surprise! This has all an elaborate hoax with hidden cameras! You’ve now completed level five and won a lifetime supply of Fruit Loops! In addition to these wonderful prizes, you get to confront the people who abandoned you as a child! All without parental supervision!
His hand lay heavy on my shoulder and made it clear that he was in charge.
Was this Crawford?
I looked up at him to see what he looked like as he ushered me inside, but found a rather ordinary looking guy. He wasn’t overly tall, maybe a little above average height, and didn’t have any remarkable facial features. His nose was straight, his teeth even.
Whatever I had been expecting to see as I walked thru the door, it wasn’t this. There were bulletin boards everywhere, each one carefully organized and labeled. A small table was shoved into the corner with two rickety chairs sitting next to it. Every surface was piled high with books and stacks of papers.
“How was your trip?” the man I assumed to be Crawford asked nonchalantly, letting go of me as the door closed behind us.
“Unexpected,” I quipped, growing colder and more annoyed by the second.
“I see you’ve your mother’s tongue too.” He turned to me as he picked up an apple out of a bowl of fruit and tossed it to me, “Hungry?”
I caught it easily and studied it for a moment.
This man believed a fairy-tale to be scientific fact.
I’ve seen Snow White. I know how this goes down.
I was not about to eat an apple offered to me by the bad guy and I tossed it back. “You take a bite first.”
He cocked an eyebrow as he did so, “It’s not poisoned.”
“Please excuse me if I don’t believe you,” I muttered and took it from his outstretched hand. Crawford shrugged indifferently as I took a bite. The tart, crisp apple made my mouth water and I devoured more than half of it before speaking again. “I take it you knew my birth parents, then?”
His eyes were guarded and his jaw clenched as he answered, “In a way.”
He knew them all right.
Something had happened between them and Crawford had been on the losing side, “They left me in the rain to die, what’d they do to you?”
One corner of his mouth tugged upwards at my sarcasm, “No love lost there, hmm?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I lowered the apple and spoke distinctly. “What did my parents do to you that you think kidnapping me will solve?”
Fandom: Brooklyn Nine-Nine Pairing: Jake/Amy Rating: General/Teen (nothing explicit, or particularly mature. This is pure fluff) Disclaimer: Obviously I own none of the characters etc. Also, this is my first B99 fanfic, so beware (??). All mistakes are mine (feel free to point any out - I welcome constructive criticism/feedback).
Summary: It’s been a long week for Amy, and the last thing she expects is for Jake to pull an elaborate hoax to celebrate one of their anniversaries - and it’s not even an anniversary they’ve really celebrated before. But, because she loves him, she puts up with it (and in the end, it’s totally worth it).
Amy was exhausted after following
up leads for almost a week concerning what seemed to be a low-level drug
dealer. But after this many dead-ends, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was
potentially more complex than she originally thought. Well, imagining that it
was more complex was better than the alternative—that she missed something.
She entered the bullpen close to
midnight, focused on how else she could approach the case. Case file
in hand, she reread all available information. She just needed a new
perspective, and potentially a new binder. She could organize all her
leads and maybe she’d get that new perspective she needed.
“Five, four, three, two, one…”
Confused, Amy looked up to see Jake
finish counting down before turning on celebratory music. Various members of
the squad shot confetti into the air and began dancing in place with Jake before he slid forward on one
knee. He only stopped when he was kneeling in front of her with a familiar red
velvet jewelry box in his hand. It brought on an intense sense of déjà vu, but
also made her heart stutter in anticipation.
Part of me still thinks this could be an elaborate hoax. It’s so over the top. Right-wing Christian organizations drive a bright orange bus down the east coast insisting that there are only two possible options for gender identity (and only two combinations for chromosomes)? Their writing their own parody! Are we supposed to take this seriously?
Well, yes. And I’ll tell you why. I know @buzzfeed isn’t always a destination for serious news (no offense, Buzz), but this quote is pretty serious:
“This is not about live-and-let-live,” he added, saying transgender people pose an threat to norms of sex and procreation. “This is about what is best for the common welfare of society.”
This, this heterosexual agenda, isn’t about live-and-let-live. Dreadful. But not a shocker. In fact, this echoes something my mom said to me over Thanksgiving , after calling my transness “delusion.”
“I think you and I have different ways of viewing the world,” she said.
I asked: “Do you think that gives you the right to call me delusional?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Because I believe my way is the right way.”
My mom is a devout Christian. She doesn’t support hate or murder. Still, her perspective and the #freespeechbus share the belief that trans people are wrong, and they can’t be allowed to “live-and-let-live.” Boil that down, and it sounds a lot like trans people can’t live.
On the one hand, this “free speech” bus is just a publicity stunt. They want to provoke a reaction. Unfortunately, my mom already did that a few months ago. So did my dad, and my brother and my coworkers and my friends on Facebook. The belief that trans people are under a delusion is not radical or new or unheard-of. I’ve heard this all before, and I’m already pissed about it.
I just hope that having to see the free speech bus does for the majority of Americans what my mother’s comments did for me.
Like I think what I’m maddest about above all is Cedric?? Like not even the fact that the fate of the wizarding world hinged on Cedric’s death, it’s that the fate of the wizarding world hinged on Cedric becoming a death eater. LIKE…. HOW DARE U COME AT ME LIKE THIS JK LIKE H O W D A R E
Cedric’s death is one of the most important events in the entire series. Tonally and emotionally for both the reader and Harry. It’s significant. When I was eight years old and reading Goblet of Fire I threw my copy of the book across the room when Cedric’s body hit the ground. It completely changed the Harry Potter books for me. It’s a turning point for the series and for Harry as a person.
THEN WE HAVE THIS FUCKING PLAY.
This mess not only trivialises Cedric’s death within the narrative, it destroys it as an emotional blow for the reader. Cedric’s death was significant because Cedric himself was not significant. He was seventeen year old kid, he was on the quidditch team, he had a girlfriend, he was normal, kind, happy. His death was important bc he’s the first real death we experience in the narrative and it’s just this normal kid; a casualty of a war he had nothing to do with. His death charges the events of the next book, and marks a change in Harry that drives his characterisation for the rest of the series.
Harry is plagued by nightmares of Cedric for months. Cedric’s ghost haunts his relationship with Cho, and both bolsters and hinders his ability to teach Dumbledore’s Army. His perspective of Cedric’s death defines the tragedy of Order of the Phoenix, and of the series as a whole: “all that stuff was luck” Harry says of his achievements to the DA kids. It’s all luck. Throughout Harry Potter we keep coming back to luck. It was luck that saw Cedric in the graveyard that night and it was luck that saw Voldemort choose the Potters instead of the Longbottoms on Halloween in 1981. A prophecy that speaks with the surety of fate comes down to a chance between two different boys. The dichotomy between fate and chance and the fallacy of being “chosen” in Harry Potter is thematically critical to the series, and Cedric’s death is a part of that.
He knew all the spells, he was one of the best wizards Hogwarts had to offer. The Goblet of Fire chose him. “He did know this stuff,” Harry says, “He was really good
at it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze…but if
Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don’t stand a chance.” The absolute randomness of death and suffering is held in the grief that lies in Cedric’s wake, and it echoes through the next three books. Cedric, who was good, and kind, and normal, who died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And now?? You come at me like “oh don’t worry! Cedric’s death is a Good Thing because otherwise this normal kid who has never been presented as anything but kind and well intentioned would have become a death eater that went on to shape how the world falls to absolute evil!!” LIKE??? WHAT KIND OF EMOTIONAL NARRATIVE STRUCTURE IS THIS. It strips the event of Cedric’s death of all pathos. It completely destroys its emotional significance. It’s so completely at odds with the thematic progression of the original series I’m actually astounded to see it set down in ink by the very woman who wrote it.
There’s a lot of crap I read in that synopsis that doesn’t fly but this is the sticking point for me, it’s so utterly jarring that despite an overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary, I’m still tempted to believe that this is all an elaborate hoax.
Archaeological Hoaxes, Cryptozoology, and GIANTS!? Pt. 1 The Cardiff Giant
On October 16, 1869, workers in Cardiff, New York, unearthed what appeared to be the body of an ancient 10-foot-tall petrified man. Over the next several months, people flocked to catch a glimpse of the so-called “Cardiff Giant,” and many hailed it as one of the most significant archeological discoveries of the 19th century.