|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Trouble with Tybalt “What light through yonder window breaks?
It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.”
“Beautiful,” whispered Splirda from the front row, dabbing a tissue to her eye with one of her many facial gnathopods. “He may be young, but I doubt there’s been such a moving performance since Lemon Nimrod originally took to the stage a thousand years ago.”
Splurg leaned forward, peering through his thick omnifocals. “I don’t get it,” he grumped. “Who’s that guy? What’s going on? Why is that battleturret made of plywood?”
Splirda sighed, exasperated. “That’s Romulo. He’s in deeply in love with Juliet, but they can’t be together because a Montagen and she’s a Capulet: Montag II is stuck in a bitter war with planet Capule, much to the consternation of the U
Where Seagulls Dare “There’s no escape, you know.”
Thomas put his head on one side, slapping the water out of his ear. “Sorry?”
“There’s no escape...from the island.” The heavily bearded man gave him a stare. “The same rocks that sank your vessel have defeated my every attempt at floating a raft.”
“Oh.” Thomas wasn’t sure exactly what one was supposed to say in this situation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“There’s food enough to get by here, if you don’t mind bitter roots, insects, sour berries. That’s almost the cruellest thing.” Beneath his stitched-leaf hat, his eyes gazed out to sea. “Compared with the open ocean, this place offers a fair chance of survival. But can it really be called living? Trapped here...on the island?”
BeastlyThe hide was cramped and Hinchcliffe was tired. “I think I might go home,” he said to Anglesey. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to see them today.”
Anglesey glanced at him and then went back to staring through his binoculars. “Just be patient a little longer. They do usually—”
He clutched at his companion’s arm. “Look! There they are!” Anglesey passed the binoculars to Hinchcliffe, who pointed them towards the horizon.
He laughed with surprise and delight. “I see them! I see them!” Ever closer and closer they galloped—the most enormous herd of adverbs Hinchcliffe had ever seen.
He handed the binoculars back to Anglesey. They weren’t necessary any more—it was already starting to be possible to identify the individual words by eye. A happily and playfully were frolicking together; a grumpily was attempting to bite a member of the herd that had got too close; a ubiquitously was— w
That's the Third One This Week! “Mirror, mirror on the wall...”
There was a loud crash and a shower of fairy dust. The face in the mirror flickered briefly, a look of horror upon it, before being replaced by solid blue. The message, “Unhandled exception. Contact your Fairy Godmother or technical support group for further assistance,” appeared in the extreme top left corner.
“Oh, bloody Hell!” snapped Medusa, stamping her foot. “Now how am I supposed to find out who’s the fairest of them all?”
Fresh HellShe missed the first sign that something wasn't right, and the second flashed past so quickly she mistook it for a misunderstanding. By the third sign it was getting a little more obvious, but still not enough to spark her curiosity.
The fourth sign, the one that should really have made her realise she wasn't alone, was the lovely scent of vanilla. She'd set her air freshener in the kitchen deliberately - it was one of those "spray when someone enters the room" types, and she'd left it focused on the door. She, meanwhile, was in the bedroom when the scent wafted around her. She put it down to lingering scent from an earlier spray.
The fifth sign occured late at night. She slept through it.
And so it continued, sign after sign of another presence in her house being ignored, misconstrued or simply unnoticed. She remained blissfully unaware and he, for his part, made good use of her ignorance. He had come from rags to riches, Hell to Heaven, and he was determined to make the most of it.
Runaway IronyTwenty minutes after finishing the documentary on New Zealand, Nicole had a plan worked out. She wrote it all down in gel pen, an itemised list of all the things she needed; then she got to work.
It wasn’t easy to convince the man in Bunnings to sell her nails, but she put on her best innocent face, and told him it was for her father’s garden shed. It wasn’t easy to convince the neighbour to let her have the old fence palings, either; nor the logs that had been earmarked for a bonfire, but a few hearty fibs and her best “I just want to help my daddy” smile went a long way to convincing them.
Two weeks later, she had bruised hands, a lot of knowledge about how not to use a hammer, and what she hoped would pass for a half-decent raft. She packed herself a bag with some clothes and spare underwear, then packed another bag, this one larger and wheeled, with as much canned food as she could carry. Before she left, she remembered to grab the can op
Wedding WailsIn the places at the bottom of the sea, there are whole worlds to explore. Atlantis, for example, or the clusters of shipwrecks found in the Bermuda Triangle. This story takes place in one such unexplored territory, though it is neither of those mentioned.
After countless discussions, everything, from the decorations to the refreshments, had been organised to the finest detail. It was going to be a perfect wedding, the kind that all who attended would remember for all time. The musicians, relatives of the bride, would sing their glorious songs; pieces of phosphorous coral tastefully brightened the seafloor, and someone had, very thoughtfully, strewn the aisle with cuttlefish pieces. It was beautiful.
The bride herself was also beautiful, though she swam in anxious circles while her friends and bridesmaids reassured her. "You're gorgeous," they trilled. "So perfect," they sang. "There's never been a more lovely spermwhale."
The groom kept pace, nervously, beside the pastor as the br
Here, There and Everywhere“I've had it.” Paul grabbed his guitar and strode out the door.
“You can't—” Ringo ran after him. “Hey, you can't leave!”
Paul spun to face him. “You know what? We aren't—weren't—even that good. Losing a member can't make it worse.”
The audience glared.
Ringo glared back. A handful of people from a handful of villages—there were fewer people in the tent than there were cigarette stubs. As they continued to play, he saw several groups come in, look at the three-Beatle stage, listen to a few bars of a three-Beatle song, and leave. He suspected that their potential fans living in Kottspiel—who could hear the music from outside the tent—weren't bothering to come in at all. It was obvious what was wrong.
“There are meant to be four Beatles,” said John. “We'll need another Paul.”
“Paul. Ha!” Ringo jutted his chin at the audience. “They're the proble
The origin of the dolls (RoTG Shift deleted scene)The origin of the dolls (RoTG Shift rp deleted scene)
Hilary and Mori were playfully arguing over names for their unborn shifter-human cross, "Akalex if it's a boy!" Mori said, laughing a bit as his wife whacked him with a pillow, "I think Marceline would be a beautiful name for a girl!" she responded, laughing as Mori whacked her with a pillow. The two kissed, Mori holding her close to him.
After being told the story of what happened to her Mom and dad in law and brother in law, Hilary began to cry, "I don't want our baby to go through this...I know I'll make stuffed dolls versions of them!" she thought, smiling through her tears. She ran to a craft store and bought some supplies. It took her what felt like weeks, but it was worth it to see three shifter dolls, all three representing Mori's parents and younger brother. "Oh!" Hilary said, laughing a bit. "You're a hard kicker, aren't you...a lot like me...".
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
Keep in Touch!