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Part 4 Six Part Challenge (please see details and do part 1, 2 and 3 first) We are writing a short story 300 or so words at a time!
Written by joyceanne in portal Fiction

Hiking Up the Falls (part 4)

Zoam vanished into the bracken. I started walking, keeping the sound of water to my left, as a rough path now guided me up the slope along the top edge of the gorge. I called for Patrick, but, after a while, discouraged, I slumped against an old, bent Pine with branches drooping into the ravine. Having seen large piles of dung, I was becoming more frightened about bears by the moment.

“Oh, woe is me, oh, oh!” The tree trunk vibrated and shook.

Startled, I cried, “Who’s that?”

“Nobody. I’m nobody. Who are you?”

“I’m nobody, too, I suppose, but my name is April May Tangle. You must be … ."

“I am Weeping Pine, and I can’t stop crying,” the long needles shivered. “I adore Emily Dickinson. Do you?”

“Why, yes, she’s one my favorite poets, but whatever happened?"

“The bear ravaged my trunk again.”

I saw deep claw marks in the tree.

"I'm so sorry," I stroked the tree's wounds.

I too suffered from abuse and lingering scars. Patrick and I had met during a retreat in which we were learning to cope with our emotions and the past, and our friendship had blossomed long-term.

"Do you have any friends?" I asked gently.

"Oliver," the Weeping Pine lifted a long branch towards a large barn owl on the highest branch, "but he sleeps during the day."

Suddenly, we heard a loud crashing in the brush.

"It's the bear!" the pine shuddered. "He's come back!"

"What can we do?" I whispered.

"Hold on!" the Weeping Pine ordered as it wrapped a long branch firmly around my waist and dangled me over the cliff where I hung on for my life. Looking out, quaking in the Pine's grasp, I saw a small, stone cottage at the top of Lucifer Falls.

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Part 4 Six Part Challenge (please see details and do part 1, 2 and 3 first) We are writing a short story 300 or so words at a time!
Written by joyceanne in portal Fiction
Hiking Up the Falls (part 4)
Zoam vanished into the bracken. I started walking, keeping the sound of water to my left, as a rough path now guided me up the slope along the top edge of the gorge. I called for Patrick, but, after a while, discouraged, I slumped against an old, bent Pine with branches drooping into the ravine. Having seen large piles of dung, I was becoming more frightened about bears by the moment.

“Oh, woe is me, oh, oh!” The tree trunk vibrated and shook.

Startled, I cried, “Who’s that?”

“Nobody. I’m nobody. Who are you?”

“I’m nobody, too, I suppose, but my name is April May Tangle. You must be … ."

“I am Weeping Pine, and I can’t stop crying,” the long needles shivered. “I adore Emily Dickinson. Do you?”

“Why, yes, she’s one my favorite poets, but whatever happened?"

“The bear ravaged my trunk again.”

I saw deep claw marks in the tree.

"I'm so sorry," I stroked the tree's wounds.

I too suffered from abuse and lingering scars. Patrick and I had met during a retreat in which we were learning to cope with our emotions and the past, and our friendship had blossomed long-term.

"Do you have any friends?" I asked gently.

"Oliver," the Weeping Pine lifted a long branch towards a large barn owl on the highest branch, "but he sleeps during the day."

Suddenly, we heard a loud crashing in the brush.

"It's the bear!" the pine shuddered. "He's come back!"

"What can we do?" I whispered.

"Hold on!" the Weeping Pine ordered as it wrapped a long branch firmly around my waist and dangled me over the cliff where I hung on for my life. Looking out, quaking in the Pine's grasp, I saw a small, stone cottage at the top of Lucifer Falls.
#fantasy  #fiction  #adventure  #spirituality 
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Written by Soulhearts in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The House I Live In

I live in a place where the walls are

uniformly lined Evergreens.

The ceiling is of white

puffy pillowy cumulus clouds

painting the cerulean sky.

The floors are made of moist green grass dotted with

pink and yellow wildflowers.

The air is a scented mix of freshly watered earth and sweet lavender.

Where the birds chirp a constant lullaby and the wind blows whispers

to the tune of the rustling leaves.

Butterflies and fireflies

are frolicking lovers here.

Never tiring, prancing till dusk.

Where the sun daily rises

to dance and play with lights and shadows.

I drink from a cold running brook

that refreshes my spirit

and eat freshly plucked blossoms

that perfumes my soul.

I sleep to the sound of rolling ripples,

set in a minuet of moonbeams.

This is your house

The house I love

The house I live in

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Written by Soulhearts in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The House I Live In
I live in a place where the walls are
uniformly lined Evergreens.
The ceiling is of white
puffy pillowy cumulus clouds
painting the cerulean sky.
The floors are made of moist green grass dotted with
pink and yellow wildflowers.

The air is a scented mix of freshly watered earth and sweet lavender.
Where the birds chirp a constant lullaby and the wind blows whispers
to the tune of the rustling leaves.

Butterflies and fireflies
are frolicking lovers here.
Never tiring, prancing till dusk.
Where the sun daily rises
to dance and play with lights and shadows.

I drink from a cold running brook
that refreshes my spirit
and eat freshly plucked blossoms
that perfumes my soul.
I sleep to the sound of rolling ripples,
set in a minuet of moonbeams.

This is your house
The house I love
The house I live in
#fantasy  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture 
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Write about a terrible character—a monster, a villain, the worst person you have ever known—and make that character sympathetic to readers.
Written by AlSalehi

The Dawn of the Night

Hush be still

and let me in;

You I’ll hold

and place within.

Open Yourself

as this is my Day;

This is my Time

prepare for my Play.

Constricting your vision

thus blinding your sight;

Completing my mission

as Darkness mates Light.

I am the One

who commits this Rape,

Whilst drowning your Sun

beneath my cape…

As no arm of Law,

has the reach of claw,

To escape,

my Escape.

Now I mean no harm

as I may seem dark;

But blame me not

for absorbing your spark.

Alas I’m held captive

in an equation;

By an ‘Empty Set’

that solves for Salvation.

Without you beneath me

I am potential in a womb;

For your being gives birth

to my arousal to consume.

I shall take your drought

and relieve all your fears;

As I rain upon you

with oceans of tears.

Should you elect to breathe

underneath my blinds;

It shall be by a bond

that forever binds…

Me onto you

with few tears left to cry;

Leaving you wet

with no warmth to help dry.

Succumb now to this slave

of Nature’s whimsical yearning;

For I’ve many visits to make

whilst this Earth keeps turning.

Hush my beloved

be laid tranquil and light;

For ‘at the end of the Day’

I am, the Night!

Copyright © 1986-2017

Al Salehi

All Rights Reserved

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Write about a terrible character—a monster, a villain, the worst person you have ever known—and make that character sympathetic to readers.
Written by AlSalehi
The Dawn of the Night
Hush be still
and let me in;
You I’ll hold
and place within.

Open Yourself
as this is my Day;
This is my Time
prepare for my Play.

Constricting your vision
thus blinding your sight;
Completing my mission
as Darkness mates Light.

I am the One
who commits this Rape,
Whilst drowning your Sun
beneath my cape…
As no arm of Law,
has the reach of claw,
To escape,
my Escape.

Now I mean no harm
as I may seem dark;
But blame me not
for absorbing your spark.

Alas I’m held captive
in an equation;
By an ‘Empty Set’
that solves for Salvation.

Without you beneath me
I am potential in a womb;
For your being gives birth
to my arousal to consume.

I shall take your drought
and relieve all your fears;
As I rain upon you
with oceans of tears.

Should you elect to breathe
underneath my blinds;
It shall be by a bond
that forever binds…

Me onto you
with few tears left to cry;
Leaving you wet
with no warmth to help dry.

Succumb now to this slave
of Nature’s whimsical yearning;
For I’ve many visits to make
whilst this Earth keeps turning.

Hush my beloved
be laid tranquil and light;
For ‘at the end of the Day’
I am, the Night!


Copyright © 1986-2017
Al Salehi
All Rights Reserved
#fantasy  #scifi  #fiction  #nonfiction  #romance  #horror  #adventure  #education  #poetry  #science  #philosophy  #mystery  #politics  #spirituality  #culture  #lyrics 
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Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Txabier in portal Simon & Schuster

The Fabulous and Ruined Grand City of Farallón

I. We Once Hit the Ground Running… Into a Wall.

"I beg you, grandpa," the young man in the ragged trousers and old, wide-brimmed beret adorned with a drooping turkey feather grumbled as he frantically reloaded the twin-barreled pistol he carried for 'additional good luck'. His breathing was troubled, every breath rumbling in his chest that felt as if it would burst into flame with the next heartbeat. He cleared his throat and spat a glop of saliva that fear, gunpowder smoke and physical exertion had made thick, viscous and sour-tasting. "Please tell me how in the Fifteen Hells did we get to be in this spot and how could the world go so crazy so fast, precisely here and now?"

"Is that what you learned while earning your keep as a… 'sailor'?" The man with the graying beard and silver-streaked long hair said over his shoulder. He had his polished blunderbuss trained on the small house's entrance, ready to fire it at the first thing that tried crossed the doorway. "Asking utterly irrelevant questions while under duress?"

"Irrelevant, you say? I only want to know why I'm most likely to die inside a musty, gods' forsaken hovel in this damned place! Shite, you even told me this quarter was likely to be deserted!"

The pair heard scuttling sounds coming from outside of the small building. Judging by the looks of it, the young man deduced it had been used a some sort of warehouse back in the days when this section of the city had not died, yet.

"Well, I guess I was… somewhat mistaken about that, Antonio."

"Oh, you think? You said no one lived in this section of The Vile!"

"That's why I said 'somewhat', boy. Those handsome fellows aren't—"

Suddenly, there was a blur at the threshold and a flash immediately followed by a loud bang and a cloud of smoke. There was a thump and a hideous hissing sound came from the shadowy figure thrashing in the floor. Its kicks and raking unsettled the dust covering the old wooden floor. Then, a wave of flailing limbs rushed in and trampled the creature under its collective weight as it entered the cramped space of the rundown warehouse.

Antonio shot his pistol—one shot at a time—finding both of his marks and hitting them square on their chest. As the wounded were thrown back, they took some more of their fellows to the floor with them. Still, there were too many of them for the two men to face in a even fight, even if none of their foes carried a weapon.

The older man quickly jumped from behind the box he used as cover and swinged two more of the assailants with the broad of his falchion, knocking them to the floor. He then quickly made his way out of the tangle of clawed hands in front of him, and skillfully jumped onto the wooden crate that was closest to a small window.

"Antonio! Damned be you, boy!" he shouted as he smashed the smeared glass on the old wooden framed with his blade. "To the window, now!"

The young man had barely unsheathed his sword when one of the pursuers reached for his eyes. It was reflex born out of sheer fright that allowed him to strike the rending claws away from his face using the pummel of his half-drawn sword. As if he was in a spell, Antonio barely noticed his kicking away the first attacker and stabbing another as he began his frantic run to the window his grandfather was smashing open.

"When you land, roll away from the window!" The man with the gray beard shouted as he jumped through the now-battered window. "Roll away!"

Antonio, now that he had had a good look at the pursuing throng, felt his heart sink all the way down to his groin at the thought of being left behind, and in the midst of such frenzied monsters. He was only able to run faster and use the crate to propel his jump, for a second doubting his momentum would actually carry him out of the cursed place.

While he was in the air, driving head first through the window, he could feel avid hands trying to grab ahold of his trousers. Still he made it through and just as ordered, he rolled as he hit the ground just as he realized the alley his grandfather had elected to make their escape good, was a rather too-narrow one.

"Oh, for the luvva—" Antonio was able to mutter before banging his lower back and legs into the boards of the rickety fence. There was loud crashing sound and a white flash of pain burst into his flied of vision, blinding him momentarily. 

The young sailor's speed and weight brought down a section of the rotting wooden fence he had slammed into with him. Antonio had the wind knocked out of his lungs, yet he still tried to turn on his side and stand up to face whosoever had dared follow him out of the rundown building. That was when he saw his grandfather throwing a sizzling object inside the warehouse and duck to help him get back on his feet.

An explosion drowned out the sound of his grandfathers voice and left his ears ringing. As in a dream, he noticed how he was taking quick, staggering steps with the help of his companion who supported half of his weight. After a few painful, anguishing gasps, Antonio felt the stinking air as it burned it way back into his lungs. His ears still rang and his backside hurt like when his shipmates kicked him for not doing something as told or properly.

By the time the young man recovered enough to keep running on his own, the old warehouse had begun to catch fire.

"Those… those were corpses hunting us down!" Antonio roared at the old man and had a sudden cough fit. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and continued on in absolute disbelief. "Dead men walking…"

"Those were neither dead nor men, any longer."

"What in Damnation's End are you blabbering about, now, ol' man?"

"The monsters we just destroyed aren't alive and, as you could grasp from their swift movements and unsophisticated-yet-vicious attempts at punching and raking us to pieces… not quite dead, at all. You see, boy, those back are what the arcanists refer to as the Undying."

"What? You mean those things were immortal?"

"No, you dolt! Our souls, the gods… these are immortal. The creatures roasting back there, can't die. They no longer breathe, yet their flesh turns neither to muck nor dust. Why, given enough time, it might even restore itself to the state it was before their Merging."

"Their merging?"

"Don't you seamen have alchemists or apothecaries onboard?"

"Well, yes… but they do make a habit of not scaring the crew sleepless, you know?"

"No wonder we lost at Puerto Alvarado, back then."

"I know nothing about that."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I mean, I wasn't on a ship that was part of the fleet. The Viceroy had it his way and outlawed the whole lot of us, the freebooters, so—"

"Yes, yes… a huge injustice, I'm sure. Here take this." The old man handed Antonio his plumed beret as he left him to stand on his own, and took point by advancing a couple of steps while the young man patted his tam clean of dust.

"Well, maybe it wasn't undeserved, but all of his high-horsing? That lost the hypocrite his battle, didn't it?"

"I never said that sorry excuse for a man wasn't an arse, though." The gray-bearded man accepted with a nod and a hard look at his grandchild. "Are you hurt? Did they wound you?"

"What…?" Antonio voice raised a couple of note with shock. "Am I turning into one of those?"

"What? Hells, no! This isn't a milkmaid's tale, Antonio. Still, infections happen and I don't think you'd like to earn your peg leg on land of all places, you salty sea dog."

Antonio had to laugh at his grandfather's grim sense of humor. He looked at the old man and, for the first time, noticed the way he conducted himself as they made their way through the alleys. His brass-coated blunderbuss hanging tightly from his wide leather belt by a short length of rawhide twine; his hand firmly holding the falchion at the ready position as he advanced. His almost imperceptible footsteps as they moved through rubble, gutter water, stale ponds and fermenting rubbish.

"Just what are you, grandfather?" Antonio wondered aloud, realizing too quickly he had uttered his question just clearly enough for the old man to listen to it and turn to face him.

"More questions?" The veteran fighter said and let out a theatrical sigh. "I guess this is a good a time as any to answer this one, at least. People usually have a predisposition against us, that if what you need to know first. Mostly out of superstition and ignorance, rather than true ill-intentions on our part. You see, Antonio, I'm… those of my… faction… are referred to as Reckoners."

"A Rec… Fifteen Hells! You're one of the Tallymen!"

"Yes… a few call us that, too."

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Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Txabier in portal Simon & Schuster
The Fabulous and Ruined Grand City of Farallón
I. We Once Hit the Ground Running… Into a Wall.

"I beg you, grandpa," the young man in the ragged trousers and old, wide-brimmed beret adorned with a drooping turkey feather grumbled as he frantically reloaded the twin-barreled pistol he carried for 'additional good luck'. His breathing was troubled, every breath rumbling in his chest that felt as if it would burst into flame with the next heartbeat. He cleared his throat and spat a glop of saliva that fear, gunpowder smoke and physical exertion had made thick, viscous and sour-tasting. "Please tell me how in the Fifteen Hells did we get to be in this spot and how could the world go so crazy so fast, precisely here and now?"

"Is that what you learned while earning your keep as a… 'sailor'?" The man with the graying beard and silver-streaked long hair said over his shoulder. He had his polished blunderbuss trained on the small house's entrance, ready to fire it at the first thing that tried crossed the doorway. "Asking utterly irrelevant questions while under duress?"

"Irrelevant, you say? I only want to know why I'm most likely to die inside a musty, gods' forsaken hovel in this damned place! Shite, you even told me this quarter was likely to be deserted!"

The pair heard scuttling sounds coming from outside of the small building. Judging by the looks of it, the young man deduced it had been used a some sort of warehouse back in the days when this section of the city had not died, yet.

"Well, I guess I was… somewhat mistaken about that, Antonio."

"Oh, you think? You said no one lived in this section of The Vile!"

"That's why I said 'somewhat', boy. Those handsome fellows aren't—"
Suddenly, there was a blur at the threshold and a flash immediately followed by a loud bang and a cloud of smoke. There was a thump and a hideous hissing sound came from the shadowy figure thrashing in the floor. Its kicks and raking unsettled the dust covering the old wooden floor. Then, a wave of flailing limbs rushed in and trampled the creature under its collective weight as it entered the cramped space of the rundown warehouse.

Antonio shot his pistol—one shot at a time—finding both of his marks and hitting them square on their chest. As the wounded were thrown back, they took some more of their fellows to the floor with them. Still, there were too many of them for the two men to face in a even fight, even if none of their foes carried a weapon.

The older man quickly jumped from behind the box he used as cover and swinged two more of the assailants with the broad of his falchion, knocking them to the floor. He then quickly made his way out of the tangle of clawed hands in front of him, and skillfully jumped onto the wooden crate that was closest to a small window.

"Antonio! Damned be you, boy!" he shouted as he smashed the smeared glass on the old wooden framed with his blade. "To the window, now!"

The young man had barely unsheathed his sword when one of the pursuers reached for his eyes. It was reflex born out of sheer fright that allowed him to strike the rending claws away from his face using the pummel of his half-drawn sword. As if he was in a spell, Antonio barely noticed his kicking away the first attacker and stabbing another as he began his frantic run to the window his grandfather was smashing open.

"When you land, roll away from the window!" The man with the gray beard shouted as he jumped through the now-battered window. "Roll away!"

Antonio, now that he had had a good look at the pursuing throng, felt his heart sink all the way down to his groin at the thought of being left behind, and in the midst of such frenzied monsters. He was only able to run faster and use the crate to propel his jump, for a second doubting his momentum would actually carry him out of the cursed place.

While he was in the air, driving head first through the window, he could feel avid hands trying to grab ahold of his trousers. Still he made it through and just as ordered, he rolled as he hit the ground just as he realized the alley his grandfather had elected to make their escape good, was a rather too-narrow one.

"Oh, for the luvva—" Antonio was able to mutter before banging his lower back and legs into the boards of the rickety fence. There was loud crashing sound and a white flash of pain burst into his flied of vision, blinding him momentarily. 

The young sailor's speed and weight brought down a section of the rotting wooden fence he had slammed into with him. Antonio had the wind knocked out of his lungs, yet he still tried to turn on his side and stand up to face whosoever had dared follow him out of the rundown building. That was when he saw his grandfather throwing a sizzling object inside the warehouse and duck to help him get back on his feet.

An explosion drowned out the sound of his grandfathers voice and left his ears ringing. As in a dream, he noticed how he was taking quick, staggering steps with the help of his companion who supported half of his weight. After a few painful, anguishing gasps, Antonio felt the stinking air as it burned it way back into his lungs. His ears still rang and his backside hurt like when his shipmates kicked him for not doing something as told or properly.

By the time the young man recovered enough to keep running on his own, the old warehouse had begun to catch fire.

"Those… those were corpses hunting us down!" Antonio roared at the old man and had a sudden cough fit. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and continued on in absolute disbelief. "Dead men walking…"

"Those were neither dead nor men, any longer."

"What in Damnation's End are you blabbering about, now, ol' man?"

"The monsters we just destroyed aren't alive and, as you could grasp from their swift movements and unsophisticated-yet-vicious attempts at punching and raking us to pieces… not quite dead, at all. You see, boy, those back are what the arcanists refer to as the Undying."

"What? You mean those things were immortal?"

"No, you dolt! Our souls, the gods… these are immortal. The creatures roasting back there, can't die. They no longer breathe, yet their flesh turns neither to muck nor dust. Why, given enough time, it might even restore itself to the state it was before their Merging."

"Their merging?"

"Don't you seamen have alchemists or apothecaries onboard?"

"Well, yes… but they do make a habit of not scaring the crew sleepless, you know?"

"No wonder we lost at Puerto Alvarado, back then."

"I know nothing about that."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I mean, I wasn't on a ship that was part of the fleet. The Viceroy had it his way and outlawed the whole lot of us, the freebooters, so—"

"Yes, yes… a huge injustice, I'm sure. Here take this." The old man handed Antonio his plumed beret as he left him to stand on his own, and took point by advancing a couple of steps while the young man patted his tam clean of dust.

"Well, maybe it wasn't undeserved, but all of his high-horsing? That lost the hypocrite his battle, didn't it?"

"I never said that sorry excuse for a man wasn't an arse, though." The gray-bearded man accepted with a nod and a hard look at his grandchild. "Are you hurt? Did they wound you?"

"What…?" Antonio voice raised a couple of note with shock. "Am I turning into one of those?"

"What? Hells, no! This isn't a milkmaid's tale, Antonio. Still, infections happen and I don't think you'd like to earn your peg leg on land of all places, you salty sea dog."

Antonio had to laugh at his grandfather's grim sense of humor. He looked at the old man and, for the first time, noticed the way he conducted himself as they made their way through the alleys. His brass-coated blunderbuss hanging tightly from his wide leather belt by a short length of rawhide twine; his hand firmly holding the falchion at the ready position as he advanced. His almost imperceptible footsteps as they moved through rubble, gutter water, stale ponds and fermenting rubbish.

"Just what are you, grandfather?" Antonio wondered aloud, realizing too quickly he had uttered his question just clearly enough for the old man to listen to it and turn to face him.

"More questions?" The veteran fighter said and let out a theatrical sigh. "I guess this is a good a time as any to answer this one, at least. People usually have a predisposition against us, that if what you need to know first. Mostly out of superstition and ignorance, rather than true ill-intentions on our part. You see, Antonio, I'm… those of my… faction… are referred to as Reckoners."

"A Rec… Fifteen Hells! You're one of the Tallymen!"

"Yes… a few call us that, too."
#fantasy  #fiction  #horror  #adventure  #mystery 
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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica

Wants.needs..

Let me sit on your face..

As your tongue

Explores..

My

Wet..

Throbbing..

Pulsating..

Pussy..

As

I

Grind..

And

Ride..

You..

Grab and squeeze..

My

Ass..

As

I

Ride..

Eat

Me..

Until..

I

Cum..

Until

My

Soul..

Leave

My

Body..

I

Need

It

So

Bad..

Please..

Pretty..

Please..

Take

Care..

Of

My..

Cravings..

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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica
Wants.needs..
Let me sit on your face..

As your tongue
Explores..

My
Wet..

Throbbing..

Pulsating..

Pussy..

As
I
Grind..

And
Ride..
You..

Grab and squeeze..

My
Ass..

As
I
Ride..

Eat
Me..

Until..

I
Cum..


Until
My
Soul..

Leave
My
Body..


I
Need
It
So
Bad..

Please..


Pretty..


Please..


Take
Care..


Of
My..





Cravings..
#fantasy 
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We all write right? Maybe you've written a book or a poem or something. Describe one of your book characters to me. or maybe a character you've made up in your head but isn't on paper. No Poems! Don't forget to tag me @Famewriter
Written by desmondwrite

Introducing Dredge

Dredge hunted among green ribboning leaves for the purple tongues of hyssop, which he plucked and tossed in a pile of creambells and kidney-colored roses. Except for the strains of songbirds, it was quiet in the bog garden. The ghosts and wolves had faded with the night, and the creatures of day were still shaking dew-licked bodies and blinking stupidly at the sun. This was the time Dredge enjoyed most. When there was nobody around to—

"Someone's coming."

Dredge jolted, crushing a coterie of petals in his hand, releasing a musk of mint. He glared at the brown spider on his shoulder. "For muck’s sake, Nook! Don't sneak up on me."

The spider stood very still and spoke again in a voice that sounded like a grown man with a beard imitating an adolescent girl. "There's someone coming. A boy-hero."

Dredge returned to the cull of his flowers, beheading those in full bloom and re-arranging them on the forest floor in red, white, and purple, although he was cautious now, an eye on the trees. "How do you know?"

"I received word from the Tame Lion,” said Nook. “A longlegs who stays in the corner window of Madeline the Mad (she keeps him for the flies and he stays there for the view) overheard the hero bragging about a prophecy to free the kingdom from a grave evil. I think he took the word grave literally.”

"So he wants to kill a necromancer?" said Dredge, thoughtfully. "What kind of hero?”

"A boy. Some fifteen years."

"Let me guess, a farmer?"

The spider was surprised. "How did you know?"

"Family was killed."

"His uncles and aunts were murdered by crow people—agents of a dark empire."

"Has a weapon of power?"

"A fire sword so sharp it can cut a horse in half by pointing at it."

"A Birthmark of Destiny?"

"Born with the word Destiny printed on his lower back. Do you know this boy?"

"No, but I know the trappings of a hero.”

"Should we summon the Hands and Teeth?

“Hmm.” Dredge pondered this. Then, gathering his flowers, he walked through the bog garden to a clearing punctuated by pools of algae bloom and crowned by old trees. In the center of the clearing was an oak, its spray of leaves creating the impression of a great turtle shell. Dredge climbed through a split in the tree to its interior—to a room coated in shelves of broken, moldy books and jars with labels like I think this is nightshade. Dredge took a tindertwig and lit an iron brazier; the twig cracking like a firework, emitting a red-blue flame. The brazier lit, Dredge heated a kettle then poured the steaming water into a shallow bowl, into which he sprinkled fresh-picked flower sheaf. Finally, task complete, Dredge sipped his tea, said “Hmm” once more, and peered through the break to the marsh. “Do you think if I stayed in here, he’d find me?”

“Probably not,” said the spider. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Stay in here."

"That may not be wise," said the spider. "If he stumbles on your door, you'll be cornered."

"Did the scouts say when the boy's to arrive?"

"Well," said the spider, tapping a leg on Dredge's shoulder. "It takes the longlegs about half an hour to reach Nuzzle in the cellar. You remember Nuzzle? Missing a couple legs. Likes hair."

"Right, right, right," said Dredge, sipping tea.

"Nuzzle dispatched fourteen scouts to carry the message. Just to reach the town boundary stones takes two hours. And the marsh is pandemonium for spiders. There's frogs and birds and squirrels. Squirrels, those bastards. The scouts were delayed by a sleeping hill giant. And then– and then, they were discovered."

"Discovered?"

"By a blue tit. It began to take the scouts as they crawled on the forest floor. They hid in a knot of a tree, only five scouts left, the blue tit sitting on a branch above, waiting. And they would have stayed there, only Wamble, you remember Wamble? He had those stripes on his rump that looked like a violin."

Dredge sipped his tea.

"Wamble said, 'Listen, men, our boglord is out there alone and defenseless. He doesn't know that there's a fifteen-year-old boy coming to kill him. We pledged him our lives—our souls.'"

"I never asked for either," said Dredge.

"'We must warn him. Or die trying.' Then Wamble distracted the blue tit by running out first, leading it away. The other scouts were able to make it out alive. Well, except for Balkis, who fell in a puddle. But if Wamble hadn't given us his life, if those scouts had not made their brave trek—"

"Right, right, but how long did it take for the spiders to reach us?"

"About three weeks."

"Three weeks!" shouted Dredge, dropping his tea. "That means he could be here already! We need to summon the Hands and Teeth!" The old necromancer leaped to his feet, interrupting the spider's petulant: "That's what I said." Taking an iron skull from the mantle, Dredge whispered into its eye, then brought it outside as smoke began to pour from its sockets. A green glint, like the flicker of a strange candle, flicked in its cavity. Dredge held the skull ahead of him, like an oil lantern, and in a cracking voice, said, "M-my Hands," coughed, and now in a deeper voice, "My Hands. My Teeth. Rise."

The patchwork of ponds tremored, becoming a lattice of ripples. Then black skulls emerged, bilious water pouring out of grim smiles. These skeletons had the countenance of puppets, except wiggling vines that had woven through their bones commanded their movements. Some carried rot-worn shields, or old brown swords, relics from an age of unrest. The creatures stomped out of the muck and stood about the necromancer, eyes quiet, betraying no sense of fear, only the calculating automation of undeath.

Dredge heard a manly shout from past the trees: "Necromancer!"

"Muck!" said Dredge. "If anything were ever to make me believe in the gods, it'd be my awful luck."

"Do not worry, boglord," said the spider. "I have a small army ready to take him out."

"Where?"

"By that forked tree over there. They'll drop off that lower bough when he passes underneath."

Dredge glimpsed brushstrokes of his enemy: a gleam of silver-green armor, a rustle of golden hair, a tall, armored silhouette. "But the boy's not going to pass by there."

"Oh," said the spider. "We didn't plan on that."

The boy appeared now, in the armor of a knight-errant, his sword leaping with yellow flames, a blue cape whispering behind him. "Necromancer," said the hero through gritted teeth, and Dredge could imagine what the boy was seeing: some twenty ghouls – the fodder things of a hero's quest – and a fell sorcerer behind them, a man with green skin the sheen of a plant stem, eyes white without pupils, almost pearls. A man wrapped in a tight brown monk's habit (although Dredge wore pants, having found a billowing skirt a detriment among the clawing roots of the forest), with a mustache that curled down into a chin-beard.

"I've come to ... smite ... guh ... you, you m-m-monster," stuttered the boy, and Dredge suddenly realized the hero was crying. Upon closer look, Dredge noted the boy’s face was coated in grime and tears, and some of his armor was missing or badly dented, and his undergarments, once a plain cotton, were stained in various shades of blood and mud, and he was missing a few fingers. The boy raised his sword toward Dredge, slipped to one knee, and vomited something black-and-green that looked like algae. When he spoke, he sounded drunk. "You've terrorized this ... swamp ... this hellhole ... for far too long." The sword dropped impotently from his nearly fingerless hand, blackened with gangrene, but the boy didn't notice. He pushed forward, lost his balance, smacked against a tree, and fell over – but the will was strong where the flesh (the horribly swamp-flayed flesh) was weak. "Your days are ... oh no ... oh gods ..." The boy's head dipped down, and he passed out.

Dredge pointed to the boy. "Bring him here." The Hands and Teeth creaked forward, and brought the boy to a stone table. It had once been used by the Old Religion to sacrifice youths of similar age, but now it was covered in alchemical vials and bowls of mashed leaves. "Clear it off." Dredge winced as the skeletons swiped the equipment onto the floor. "Gently," said Dredge, a little too late. "Now put him down." Then the skeletons dropped the boy on the table, and retreated.

“Let me bite him!” said the spider, on Dredge’s head now, jumping up and down. “C’mon! Let me at him.”

“I think a brown recluse is the least of his problems,” said Dredge, surveying the child. “Look here. A hobbleray licked his leg. And these rash stripes are from a strangler vine. These spines are melee-grove barbs and wow, he’s got bite marks from four different types of bear. This gauntlet was melted by a gelatinous ooze, I’m sure of it. And that pauldron was bitten by a basilisk – that’s why there’s so many bubbles in the metal. And is this mice? Mice bit him. A lot.”

“Don’t eat me,” croaked the boy.

“I don’t like leftovers,” said Dredge, plucking green spores growing on the boy’s neck and examining them closely. “I can cure you, but you must make an oath to me, on your heavenly virginity or something, that you will not try to smite me when I’m done.”

The boy nodded, and Dredge set to work like a gardener on a sour spot in the yard. Then for two days, the boy lay on the altar, mewing softly like an injured kitten, while Dredge drank his tea and waited.

When it was time, a vine-ghoul took the boy in its hands. Dredge touched the boy on his forehead, leaving a small, black dot, and told him, “Come back to kill me when you’re older. All right?” The boy put out his hands and Dredge recoiled. “I’m– I’m not going to hug you.” To the Hands and Teeth, Dredge said, “Carry him to the Tame Lion. He’ll have a fever for a few days, and Madeline's syphilis for the rest of his life, but he’ll be fine.”

The battle over, Dredge went back into the garden.

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We all write right? Maybe you've written a book or a poem or something. Describe one of your book characters to me. or maybe a character you've made up in your head but isn't on paper. No Poems! Don't forget to tag me @Famewriter
Written by desmondwrite
Introducing Dredge
Dredge hunted among green ribboning leaves for the purple tongues of hyssop, which he plucked and tossed in a pile of creambells and kidney-colored roses. Except for the strains of songbirds, it was quiet in the bog garden. The ghosts and wolves had faded with the night, and the creatures of day were still shaking dew-licked bodies and blinking stupidly at the sun. This was the time Dredge enjoyed most. When there was nobody around to—

"Someone's coming."

Dredge jolted, crushing a coterie of petals in his hand, releasing a musk of mint. He glared at the brown spider on his shoulder. "For muck’s sake, Nook! Don't sneak up on me."

The spider stood very still and spoke again in a voice that sounded like a grown man with a beard imitating an adolescent girl. "There's someone coming. A boy-hero."

Dredge returned to the cull of his flowers, beheading those in full bloom and re-arranging them on the forest floor in red, white, and purple, although he was cautious now, an eye on the trees. "How do you know?"

"I received word from the Tame Lion,” said Nook. “A longlegs who stays in the corner window of Madeline the Mad (she keeps him for the flies and he stays there for the view) overheard the hero bragging about a prophecy to free the kingdom from a grave evil. I think he took the word grave literally.”

"So he wants to kill a necromancer?" said Dredge, thoughtfully. "What kind of hero?”

"A boy. Some fifteen years."

"Let me guess, a farmer?"

The spider was surprised. "How did you know?"

"Family was killed."

"His uncles and aunts were murdered by crow people—agents of a dark empire."

"Has a weapon of power?"

"A fire sword so sharp it can cut a horse in half by pointing at it."

"A Birthmark of Destiny?"

"Born with the word Destiny printed on his lower back. Do you know this boy?"

"No, but I know the trappings of a hero.”

"Should we summon the Hands and Teeth?

“Hmm.” Dredge pondered this. Then, gathering his flowers, he walked through the bog garden to a clearing punctuated by pools of algae bloom and crowned by old trees. In the center of the clearing was an oak, its spray of leaves creating the impression of a great turtle shell. Dredge climbed through a split in the tree to its interior—to a room coated in shelves of broken, moldy books and jars with labels like I think this is nightshade. Dredge took a tindertwig and lit an iron brazier; the twig cracking like a firework, emitting a red-blue flame. The brazier lit, Dredge heated a kettle then poured the steaming water into a shallow bowl, into which he sprinkled fresh-picked flower sheaf. Finally, task complete, Dredge sipped his tea, said “Hmm” once more, and peered through the break to the marsh. “Do you think if I stayed in here, he’d find me?”

“Probably not,” said the spider. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Stay in here."

"That may not be wise," said the spider. "If he stumbles on your door, you'll be cornered."

"Did the scouts say when the boy's to arrive?"

"Well," said the spider, tapping a leg on Dredge's shoulder. "It takes the longlegs about half an hour to reach Nuzzle in the cellar. You remember Nuzzle? Missing a couple legs. Likes hair."

"Right, right, right," said Dredge, sipping tea.

"Nuzzle dispatched fourteen scouts to carry the message. Just to reach the town boundary stones takes two hours. And the marsh is pandemonium for spiders. There's frogs and birds and squirrels. Squirrels, those bastards. The scouts were delayed by a sleeping hill giant. And then– and then, they were discovered."

"Discovered?"

"By a blue tit. It began to take the scouts as they crawled on the forest floor. They hid in a knot of a tree, only five scouts left, the blue tit sitting on a branch above, waiting. And they would have stayed there, only Wamble, you remember Wamble? He had those stripes on his rump that looked like a violin."

Dredge sipped his tea.

"Wamble said, 'Listen, men, our boglord is out there alone and defenseless. He doesn't know that there's a fifteen-year-old boy coming to kill him. We pledged him our lives—our souls.'"

"I never asked for either," said Dredge.

"'We must warn him. Or die trying.' Then Wamble distracted the blue tit by running out first, leading it away. The other scouts were able to make it out alive. Well, except for Balkis, who fell in a puddle. But if Wamble hadn't given us his life, if those scouts had not made their brave trek—"

"Right, right, but how long did it take for the spiders to reach us?"

"About three weeks."

"Three weeks!" shouted Dredge, dropping his tea. "That means he could be here already! We need to summon the Hands and Teeth!" The old necromancer leaped to his feet, interrupting the spider's petulant: "That's what I said." Taking an iron skull from the mantle, Dredge whispered into its eye, then brought it outside as smoke began to pour from its sockets. A green glint, like the flicker of a strange candle, flicked in its cavity. Dredge held the skull ahead of him, like an oil lantern, and in a cracking voice, said, "M-my Hands," coughed, and now in a deeper voice, "My Hands. My Teeth. Rise."

The patchwork of ponds tremored, becoming a lattice of ripples. Then black skulls emerged, bilious water pouring out of grim smiles. These skeletons had the countenance of puppets, except wiggling vines that had woven through their bones commanded their movements. Some carried rot-worn shields, or old brown swords, relics from an age of unrest. The creatures stomped out of the muck and stood about the necromancer, eyes quiet, betraying no sense of fear, only the calculating automation of undeath.

Dredge heard a manly shout from past the trees: "Necromancer!"

"Muck!" said Dredge. "If anything were ever to make me believe in the gods, it'd be my awful luck."

"Do not worry, boglord," said the spider. "I have a small army ready to take him out."

"Where?"

"By that forked tree over there. They'll drop off that lower bough when he passes underneath."

Dredge glimpsed brushstrokes of his enemy: a gleam of silver-green armor, a rustle of golden hair, a tall, armored silhouette. "But the boy's not going to pass by there."

"Oh," said the spider. "We didn't plan on that."

The boy appeared now, in the armor of a knight-errant, his sword leaping with yellow flames, a blue cape whispering behind him. "Necromancer," said the hero through gritted teeth, and Dredge could imagine what the boy was seeing: some twenty ghouls – the fodder things of a hero's quest – and a fell sorcerer behind them, a man with green skin the sheen of a plant stem, eyes white without pupils, almost pearls. A man wrapped in a tight brown monk's habit (although Dredge wore pants, having found a billowing skirt a detriment among the clawing roots of the forest), with a mustache that curled down into a chin-beard.

"I've come to ... smite ... guh ... you, you m-m-monster," stuttered the boy, and Dredge suddenly realized the hero was crying. Upon closer look, Dredge noted the boy’s face was coated in grime and tears, and some of his armor was missing or badly dented, and his undergarments, once a plain cotton, were stained in various shades of blood and mud, and he was missing a few fingers. The boy raised his sword toward Dredge, slipped to one knee, and vomited something black-and-green that looked like algae. When he spoke, he sounded drunk. "You've terrorized this ... swamp ... this hellhole ... for far too long." The sword dropped impotently from his nearly fingerless hand, blackened with gangrene, but the boy didn't notice. He pushed forward, lost his balance, smacked against a tree, and fell over – but the will was strong where the flesh (the horribly swamp-flayed flesh) was weak. "Your days are ... oh no ... oh gods ..." The boy's head dipped down, and he passed out.

Dredge pointed to the boy. "Bring him here." The Hands and Teeth creaked forward, and brought the boy to a stone table. It had once been used by the Old Religion to sacrifice youths of similar age, but now it was covered in alchemical vials and bowls of mashed leaves. "Clear it off." Dredge winced as the skeletons swiped the equipment onto the floor. "Gently," said Dredge, a little too late. "Now put him down." Then the skeletons dropped the boy on the table, and retreated.

“Let me bite him!” said the spider, on Dredge’s head now, jumping up and down. “C’mon! Let me at him.”

“I think a brown recluse is the least of his problems,” said Dredge, surveying the child. “Look here. A hobbleray licked his leg. And these rash stripes are from a strangler vine. These spines are melee-grove barbs and wow, he’s got bite marks from four different types of bear. This gauntlet was melted by a gelatinous ooze, I’m sure of it. And that pauldron was bitten by a basilisk – that’s why there’s so many bubbles in the metal. And is this mice? Mice bit him. A lot.”

“Don’t eat me,” croaked the boy.

“I don’t like leftovers,” said Dredge, plucking green spores growing on the boy’s neck and examining them closely. “I can cure you, but you must make an oath to me, on your heavenly virginity or something, that you will not try to smite me when I’m done.”

The boy nodded, and Dredge set to work like a gardener on a sour spot in the yard. Then for two days, the boy lay on the altar, mewing softly like an injured kitten, while Dredge drank his tea and waited.

When it was time, a vine-ghoul took the boy in its hands. Dredge touched the boy on his forehead, leaving a small, black dot, and told him, “Come back to kill me when you’re older. All right?” The boy put out his hands and Dredge recoiled. “I’m– I’m not going to hug you.” To the Hands and Teeth, Dredge said, “Carry him to the Tame Lion. He’ll have a fever for a few days, and Madeline's syphilis for the rest of his life, but he’ll be fine.”

The battle over, Dredge went back into the garden.
#fantasy  #undead  #necromancer 
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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica

Nibbles..

Just a little nibble and a bite here and there, that's all i want.

It won't hurt too much..only a little bit..

I'm sure that you will love it as much as i do..

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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica
Nibbles..
Just a little nibble and a bite here and there, that's all i want.

It won't hurt too much..only a little bit..

I'm sure that you will love it as much as i do..
#fantasy 
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Written by Harry_Situation in portal Reviews

Harry Situation Reviews: Samurai Jack Season 5

Back to the past. Back to the past, Samurai Jack. Whatcha!

Jack is back in the final complete season of one of Cartoon Network's greatest animated series of all time, Samurai Jack. For those unfamiliar, Samurai Jack is an animated series that ran on Cartoon Network from 2001-2004, and was created by Gennedy Tartakovsky, who has done other works such as Dexter's Lab, Powerpuff Girls, and directed the Hotel Transylvania movies. The story is about how an ancient evil named Aku has risen once again to conquer the world. A young samurai goes out to put an end to this evil with the aid of a magic sword that is capable of harming the demonic entity. But during their first confrontation he is transported into the future (it happens). There, going by the name of "Jack", he sets out on a quest that will hopefully take him back to the past to vanish Aku's grasp once and for all. And throughout the series it is just pure action and awesome.

The best thing about the series is that most of the episodes don't have a lot of dialogue yet it makes up with it with amazing animation and outstanding action that help tell the episode's story. It was so amazing that it was a shame that the series never had a proper conclusion. Now Season 5 is that conclusion that we fans have waited so long for. It's been fifty years since Jack has been transported to the future, and a side effect to this is that he does not age. All the time portals have been destroyed and Jack still does his best to protect the innocence, even though he lost his iconic, magic sword, which I don't completely understand how that was possible. Did he not look for it? This is the part where Billy Madison would say you got a sword, you have a responsibility. If your sword is lost you don't look for an hour and call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that fucking sword! Any who, at the same time he must also face assassins from an Aku-worshiping cult dubbed the Daughters of Aku, who have spent their entire lives sheltered and trained to kill the samurai. 

Oh my fuck, this is the season fans and I have waited for so long to see. It is absolutely beautiful. 

The animation this season looks the same as it was before and it still looks amazing. It looks as though they brought the whole crew back.

The voice talent is great as well. Voice actor Phil LaMarr reprises his iconic role as Jack, and he still sounds just as fantastic as he did before. If you need an idea who Phil LaMarr is, here's a list of your favorite characters that he's voiced for the past two decades.

      1. Static - Static Shock

      2. Hermes - Futurama

      3. Kit Fisto - Star Wars: The Clone Wars

      4. Aquaman - Young Justice, Injustice

      5. Wilt - Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

      6. Vulgrim - Darksiders series

      7. Ratbag - Shadow of Mordor

      8. Green Lantern/John Stewart - Justice League, Justice League Unlimited

      9. Ollie Williams - Family Guy

Need I say more? 

And who is voicing one of the Daughters of Aku? None other than my soulmate Tara Strong. To list her greatest roles I would have to make a whole new post. She voices the assassin named Ashi, who seems to be the individual of the group. And Tara does a great job portraying this character. Actually I really like Ashi. She's a great addition to this series. At first she started off as this assassin whose sole purpose was to kill Jack but the more she is with him she learns that the world is not what she's been taught. She has been taught that Aku is god and the samurai is evil. Then she learns the truth and she actually tries to do some good. I like that aspect.

Now let's talk about Aku because this one is a pretty big deal. In the first 4 seasons he was voiced by legendary Japanese actor Mako Iwamatsu, whom some may recognize as the voice of Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender. A hero is only as great as his villain, and Aku was definitely one of my all time favorite villains, mostly in part by Mako's amazing voice-over work. Sadly Mako died in 2006 due to cancer so to replace him they hired voice actor Greg Baldwin. To be fair he does a really good impression of the late Mako. When he was voicing Iroh in Avatar, you could hardly tell the difference. But when he's voicing Aku, there's a big difference in tone and vocals. Buy hey, at least the guy is giving his best effort. Yet it makes me miss Mako even more.

Just a heads up, I know I don't normally dive into spoiler territory but there is some stuff I really want to talk about throughout this season. So a spoiler warning is in effect. You can skip this or not. Doesn't matter because there's a lot of shit I want to discuss because it's worth talking about.

SPOILER ALERT!

So let's get the biggie out of the way: Jack killed some people this season. And I do mean people, as in human beings. The violence has been turned up a dial in this season. Most of the violent content back then was toned down with Jack slaying robots. But this time he was forced to kill the Daughters of Aku that were trying to kill him. There's no explosions or oil splatter, there is blood in this season. How does he take this? He's devastated. This was the first time he's ever killed a person and it haunts him. That's another thing I liked about this whole season, Jack is mentally unstable. He gets into arguments with a younger version of his conscience, and he's being followed by this mysterious rider through half the season.

As much as I love seeing Jack in this state, at the same time it's very depressing. Jack has officially given up all hope. Yeah, he won't stop protecting the innocent and aiding the weak but his nature has pretty much become so nihilistic. It's sad to see him just give up. Hell, he's even considered committing suicide until Ashi snapped him back to reality.

And for you fans of the series, Scotsman makes a return! The Scotsman (voiced by the ever-so amazing John DiMaggio) was such a great recurring character in the series that it pleases me to see him return, only to die in the beginning of episode 5. But hey, he died as he lived, spewing insults. Can't think of a better way to ax someone off than that. What I liked about that episode as well was Jack showing Ashi the real world and how Aku has actually ruined it, despite what she was taught at an early age.

Episode 6, holy shit, it was absolute fan service. Ashi is out in the world looking for Jack where she comes across lots of familiar faces from previous episodes such as the Woolies, the blind archers, and Da Sam-Moo-Rai. Oh god it was just eye-candy for fans and I loved it all. Episode was like you fucking remember this shit? You fucking remember that shit? Fuck yeah I remember. I fucking loved that shit! I fucking loved this episode! Probably my favorite this whole season.

But then we got to learn something disturbing in that same episode. That suit that Ashi and her sisters were wearing the entire time, it's not a suit. Turns out that in a flashback that the High Priestess stripped her and her sisters (yeah there was some uncomfortable child nudity in this one) into this pit full of like tar or something, and I guess that stuff fused to her skin. Pretty disturbing upon first viewing. But Ashi decided to change that, scrubbed off the tar, and outfitted herself a dress of leaves, which actually looked good on her not gonna lie. I like how symbolically Ashi is cleansing herself of her past and becoming reborn as a better person to follow in Jack's footsteps. And I also liked the part where she's skinny dipping in that pool of water too. Tee-hee! X)

Episode 7 came and holy crap that was an epic episode. Jack found his inner peace and regained his sword and signature look, while Ashi wrecked an entire army by herself. I officially love Ashi now. 

Episode 8 is, honestly, really strange. It tried establishing a romance with Jack and Ashi, which I really didn't buy at all. Yet the two end up kissing in the end with a Dean Martin song playing over the credits. It wasn't necessary a bad episode, but it just felt out of place compared to the rest of the season's episodes and was pretty underwhelming. Also the odd number of sex jokes thrown in there really made it uncomfortable. 

Episode 9, god damn! Aku and Jack finally have their confrontation, and it is here it was revealed that Ashi is in fact the biological daughter of Aku. And with that he is able to control her against her will. I love Aku, but man this was the dickest move he's ever done; and he's done a lot of dick moves throughout the series. Using the woman he loves to fight him is absolute cock. But that's not the jaw dropping moment of the whole episode, little lone the whole series. Jack surrendered to Aku. DAAAAMMMNN!

Now we've come to the series finale. God damn was this epic. All of Jack's friends and allies come to battle Aku and free Jack, and then Jack helps Ashi break free of Aku's control, and then Ashi learns that she being his daughter she has his powers too. So ultimately they use that power to travel back to the past, just as Jack had set out to do from the beginning. Then finally, after all these years, Jack kills Aku, and it was glorious.

Unfortunately without Aku, Ashi can no longer exist so she fades away, which was really sad. God damn! Why play with my emotions? Oh well it was a very fitting conclusion to an already epic series.

This season has been fantastic. It fills my heart with joy now that one of my all time favorite series was given a proper conclusion. Fans have waited so long for one and now we got one. The list of positives are too many to count but I did it anyway. If you haven't seen this series yet, then obviously go watch it. Right now! 

Out of all the television revival shows being broadcast over the decade, this was one that deserved it. This was a love letter to the dedicated fans of the series and I am definitely satisfied with what was given. Who knows, maybe a revival of this series can give hope to Tartakovsky's other show, Sym-Bionic Titan, being revived too. Or Butch Hartman can revive Danny Phantom. Who knows what the future will hold, but it certainly makes this fan hopeful. Back to the grading, back to the grading, Harry Situation!

                                Positives:                                     Negatives:

                               -Cast and crew back!                   -I miss Mako :'(

                               -Animation still great                  -Episode 8

                               -Darker tone

                               -Jack & Ashi working together

                               -Amazing story throughout

                               -Upped the violence

                               -Mature for fans

                               -Jack's unstable psyche

                               -Callbacks to previous episodes

                               -Final curtain 

                               -Love letter to the fans

Whatcha! Final Grade: A+

My childhood has finally been completed. Thank you so much Gennedy Tartakovsky for creating such an epic animated series that we'll watch for generations; and thank you Phil LaMarr for voicing one of the greatest animated heroes of all time.

So there's my review of the final season of Samurai Jack. Have you seen the series? What were your thoughts? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check back again for more Harry Situation Reviews here on Prose.com! Whatcha!

Best Quote:

Ashi: "Hope lives! It is everywhere! I've seen it. Everyone you have touched. The people you have helped. You saved them!"

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Written by Harry_Situation in portal Reviews
Harry Situation Reviews: Samurai Jack Season 5
Back to the past. Back to the past, Samurai Jack. Whatcha!

Jack is back in the final complete season of one of Cartoon Network's greatest animated series of all time, Samurai Jack. For those unfamiliar, Samurai Jack is an animated series that ran on Cartoon Network from 2001-2004, and was created by Gennedy Tartakovsky, who has done other works such as Dexter's Lab, Powerpuff Girls, and directed the Hotel Transylvania movies. The story is about how an ancient evil named Aku has risen once again to conquer the world. A young samurai goes out to put an end to this evil with the aid of a magic sword that is capable of harming the demonic entity. But during their first confrontation he is transported into the future (it happens). There, going by the name of "Jack", he sets out on a quest that will hopefully take him back to the past to vanish Aku's grasp once and for all. And throughout the series it is just pure action and awesome.

The best thing about the series is that most of the episodes don't have a lot of dialogue yet it makes up with it with amazing animation and outstanding action that help tell the episode's story. It was so amazing that it was a shame that the series never had a proper conclusion. Now Season 5 is that conclusion that we fans have waited so long for. It's been fifty years since Jack has been transported to the future, and a side effect to this is that he does not age. All the time portals have been destroyed and Jack still does his best to protect the innocence, even though he lost his iconic, magic sword, which I don't completely understand how that was possible. Did he not look for it? This is the part where Billy Madison would say you got a sword, you have a responsibility. If your sword is lost you don't look for an hour and call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that fucking sword! Any who, at the same time he must also face assassins from an Aku-worshiping cult dubbed the Daughters of Aku, who have spent their entire lives sheltered and trained to kill the samurai. 

Oh my fuck, this is the season fans and I have waited for so long to see. It is absolutely beautiful. 

The animation this season looks the same as it was before and it still looks amazing. It looks as though they brought the whole crew back.

The voice talent is great as well. Voice actor Phil LaMarr reprises his iconic role as Jack, and he still sounds just as fantastic as he did before. If you need an idea who Phil LaMarr is, here's a list of your favorite characters that he's voiced for the past two decades.
      1. Static - Static Shock
      2. Hermes - Futurama
      3. Kit Fisto - Star Wars: The Clone Wars
      4. Aquaman - Young Justice, Injustice
      5. Wilt - Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends
      6. Vulgrim - Darksiders series
      7. Ratbag - Shadow of Mordor
      8. Green Lantern/John Stewart - Justice League, Justice League Unlimited
      9. Ollie Williams - Family Guy

Need I say more? 

And who is voicing one of the Daughters of Aku? None other than my soulmate Tara Strong. To list her greatest roles I would have to make a whole new post. She voices the assassin named Ashi, who seems to be the individual of the group. And Tara does a great job portraying this character. Actually I really like Ashi. She's a great addition to this series. At first she started off as this assassin whose sole purpose was to kill Jack but the more she is with him she learns that the world is not what she's been taught. She has been taught that Aku is god and the samurai is evil. Then she learns the truth and she actually tries to do some good. I like that aspect.

Now let's talk about Aku because this one is a pretty big deal. In the first 4 seasons he was voiced by legendary Japanese actor Mako Iwamatsu, whom some may recognize as the voice of Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender. A hero is only as great as his villain, and Aku was definitely one of my all time favorite villains, mostly in part by Mako's amazing voice-over work. Sadly Mako died in 2006 due to cancer so to replace him they hired voice actor Greg Baldwin. To be fair he does a really good impression of the late Mako. When he was voicing Iroh in Avatar, you could hardly tell the difference. But when he's voicing Aku, there's a big difference in tone and vocals. Buy hey, at least the guy is giving his best effort. Yet it makes me miss Mako even more.

Just a heads up, I know I don't normally dive into spoiler territory but there is some stuff I really want to talk about throughout this season. So a spoiler warning is in effect. You can skip this or not. Doesn't matter because there's a lot of shit I want to discuss because it's worth talking about.
SPOILER ALERT!

So let's get the biggie out of the way: Jack killed some people this season. And I do mean people, as in human beings. The violence has been turned up a dial in this season. Most of the violent content back then was toned down with Jack slaying robots. But this time he was forced to kill the Daughters of Aku that were trying to kill him. There's no explosions or oil splatter, there is blood in this season. How does he take this? He's devastated. This was the first time he's ever killed a person and it haunts him. That's another thing I liked about this whole season, Jack is mentally unstable. He gets into arguments with a younger version of his conscience, and he's being followed by this mysterious rider through half the season.

As much as I love seeing Jack in this state, at the same time it's very depressing. Jack has officially given up all hope. Yeah, he won't stop protecting the innocent and aiding the weak but his nature has pretty much become so nihilistic. It's sad to see him just give up. Hell, he's even considered committing suicide until Ashi snapped him back to reality.

And for you fans of the series, Scotsman makes a return! The Scotsman (voiced by the ever-so amazing John DiMaggio) was such a great recurring character in the series that it pleases me to see him return, only to die in the beginning of episode 5. But hey, he died as he lived, spewing insults. Can't think of a better way to ax someone off than that. What I liked about that episode as well was Jack showing Ashi the real world and how Aku has actually ruined it, despite what she was taught at an early age.

Episode 6, holy shit, it was absolute fan service. Ashi is out in the world looking for Jack where she comes across lots of familiar faces from previous episodes such as the Woolies, the blind archers, and Da Sam-Moo-Rai. Oh god it was just eye-candy for fans and I loved it all. Episode was like you fucking remember this shit? You fucking remember that shit? Fuck yeah I remember. I fucking loved that shit! I fucking loved this episode! Probably my favorite this whole season.

But then we got to learn something disturbing in that same episode. That suit that Ashi and her sisters were wearing the entire time, it's not a suit. Turns out that in a flashback that the High Priestess stripped her and her sisters (yeah there was some uncomfortable child nudity in this one) into this pit full of like tar or something, and I guess that stuff fused to her skin. Pretty disturbing upon first viewing. But Ashi decided to change that, scrubbed off the tar, and outfitted herself a dress of leaves, which actually looked good on her not gonna lie. I like how symbolically Ashi is cleansing herself of her past and becoming reborn as a better person to follow in Jack's footsteps. And I also liked the part where she's skinny dipping in that pool of water too. Tee-hee! X)

Episode 7 came and holy crap that was an epic episode. Jack found his inner peace and regained his sword and signature look, while Ashi wrecked an entire army by herself. I officially love Ashi now. 

Episode 8 is, honestly, really strange. It tried establishing a romance with Jack and Ashi, which I really didn't buy at all. Yet the two end up kissing in the end with a Dean Martin song playing over the credits. It wasn't necessary a bad episode, but it just felt out of place compared to the rest of the season's episodes and was pretty underwhelming. Also the odd number of sex jokes thrown in there really made it uncomfortable. 

Episode 9, god damn! Aku and Jack finally have their confrontation, and it is here it was revealed that Ashi is in fact the biological daughter of Aku. And with that he is able to control her against her will. I love Aku, but man this was the dickest move he's ever done; and he's done a lot of dick moves throughout the series. Using the woman he loves to fight him is absolute cock. But that's not the jaw dropping moment of the whole episode, little lone the whole series. Jack surrendered to Aku. DAAAAMMMNN!

Now we've come to the series finale. God damn was this epic. All of Jack's friends and allies come to battle Aku and free Jack, and then Jack helps Ashi break free of Aku's control, and then Ashi learns that she being his daughter she has his powers too. So ultimately they use that power to travel back to the past, just as Jack had set out to do from the beginning. Then finally, after all these years, Jack kills Aku, and it was glorious.

Unfortunately without Aku, Ashi can no longer exist so she fades away, which was really sad. God damn! Why play with my emotions? Oh well it was a very fitting conclusion to an already epic series.

This season has been fantastic. It fills my heart with joy now that one of my all time favorite series was given a proper conclusion. Fans have waited so long for one and now we got one. The list of positives are too many to count but I did it anyway. If you haven't seen this series yet, then obviously go watch it. Right now! 

Out of all the television revival shows being broadcast over the decade, this was one that deserved it. This was a love letter to the dedicated fans of the series and I am definitely satisfied with what was given. Who knows, maybe a revival of this series can give hope to Tartakovsky's other show, Sym-Bionic Titan, being revived too. Or Butch Hartman can revive Danny Phantom. Who knows what the future will hold, but it certainly makes this fan hopeful. Back to the grading, back to the grading, Harry Situation!

                                Positives:                                     Negatives:
                               -Cast and crew back!                   -I miss Mako :'(
                               -Animation still great                  -Episode 8
                               -Darker tone
                               -Jack & Ashi working together
                               -Amazing story throughout
                               -Upped the violence
                               -Mature for fans
                               -Jack's unstable psyche
                               -Callbacks to previous episodes
                               -Final curtain 
                               -Love letter to the fans

Whatcha! Final Grade: A+

My childhood has finally been completed. Thank you so much Gennedy Tartakovsky for creating such an epic animated series that we'll watch for generations; and thank you Phil LaMarr for voicing one of the greatest animated heroes of all time.

So there's my review of the final season of Samurai Jack. Have you seen the series? What were your thoughts? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check back again for more Harry Situation Reviews here on Prose.com! Whatcha!

Best Quote:
Ashi: "Hope lives! It is everywhere! I've seen it. Everyone you have touched. The people you have helped. You saved them!"
#fantasy  #opinion  #animation  #harrysituationreviews  #cartoonnetwork 
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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica

The devil has awoken.

I' am a temptress in the morning..

I am a good girl in the day time...

A bad girl in the afternoon...

And a devil at night..

The one thing in my mind is sex..

So give in to the dark side..

Join me, in the other side of pleasure..

My pet..

I shall..

Turn you..

Into...

A..

Devil...

Too..

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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica
The devil has awoken.
I' am a temptress in the morning..

I am a good girl in the day time...

A bad girl in the afternoon...

And a devil at night..

The one thing in my mind is sex..

So give in to the dark side..

Join me, in the other side of pleasure..

My pet..




I shall..




Turn you..




Into...




A..




Devil...






Too..
#fantasy  #pleasure 
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Part 4 Six Part Challenge (please see details and do part 1, 2 and 3 first) We are writing a short story 300 or so words at a time!
Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction

MAJOR RAGER Part 4

Level 5.

The six gamers made their way down a long corridor, where giant cyclopian glob guarded the entrance to Level 6. The animated monstrosity puked a pool of acid at them, but they managed to dodge out of the way. Their weapons fired rapidly with little affect against the horrid blob. 

Dominic's Psycko casted a spell, which emitted a screeching sonic sound. The powerful vibrations were too much for the blob as it died in a grotesque explosion of goo all around the corridor. His friends cheered his accomplishment.

"Awesome!" Rosemary said, high-fiving the imp.

"Nice one!" Joshua's voice called over the microphone.

A message from Ashley appeared in the text box depicting a thumbs up and a smiley face. The team then ventured to the next level, continuously gunning down more monsters that were in their path.

"You know, Dominic," Kayleigh spoke over her headset, "I'm surprised you play this game. I mean we're basically killing demons."

"Technically whether they are demons or other nefarious creatures is up for debate," the young demon corrected, "Besides this game is like a national sport down below. Everyone plays it."

Then Krystal's voice cried, "Incoming!" A rocket fired in their direction. They dodged in time but the impact knocked their avatars off their feet. Another player loaded his weapon up and readied to fire. 

With quick thinking, Ashley commanded her Silencer to pull out her giant sniper rifle, aiming it at the opposing opponent. Taking a deep breath, she fired. The 50 caliber bullet hit directly between the eyes.

Deep in the depths of the Inferno, Ghuul's controller and jaw hit the floor at the same time.

"How did I die?" he whined, taunted by the "Game Over" text on screen.

"You suck, dude," his friend Balthazar commented.

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Part 4 Six Part Challenge (please see details and do part 1, 2 and 3 first) We are writing a short story 300 or so words at a time!
Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction
MAJOR RAGER Part 4
Level 5.

The six gamers made their way down a long corridor, where giant cyclopian glob guarded the entrance to Level 6. The animated monstrosity puked a pool of acid at them, but they managed to dodge out of the way. Their weapons fired rapidly with little affect against the horrid blob. 

Dominic's Psycko casted a spell, which emitted a screeching sonic sound. The powerful vibrations were too much for the blob as it died in a grotesque explosion of goo all around the corridor. His friends cheered his accomplishment.

"Awesome!" Rosemary said, high-fiving the imp.

"Nice one!" Joshua's voice called over the microphone.

A message from Ashley appeared in the text box depicting a thumbs up and a smiley face. The team then ventured to the next level, continuously gunning down more monsters that were in their path.

"You know, Dominic," Kayleigh spoke over her headset, "I'm surprised you play this game. I mean we're basically killing demons."

"Technically whether they are demons or other nefarious creatures is up for debate," the young demon corrected, "Besides this game is like a national sport down below. Everyone plays it."

Then Krystal's voice cried, "Incoming!" A rocket fired in their direction. They dodged in time but the impact knocked their avatars off their feet. Another player loaded his weapon up and readied to fire. 

With quick thinking, Ashley commanded her Silencer to pull out her giant sniper rifle, aiming it at the opposing opponent. Taking a deep breath, she fired. The 50 caliber bullet hit directly between the eyes.

Deep in the depths of the Inferno, Ghuul's controller and jaw hit the floor at the same time.

"How did I die?" he whined, taunted by the "Game Over" text on screen.

"You suck, dude," his friend Balthazar commented.


#fantasy  #fiction  #horror  #comedy  #sinsofthefather 
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