“This Is Your Daily, Friendly Reminder To Use Commas Instead Of Periods During The Dialogue Of Your

The Wreckers - In the Junkyard

Another round of thugly antics. Again, check out Puckarooni for her Pokemon Superhero AU. Cool jams, friendos.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Leader and self proclaimed mousestache afficianado

Ben - Spearow Brawn of the group of Bachelor of Thuganomics

Zach - Zigzagoon Dunno what he’s doing, but he’s doing it well

Sherman - Sentret Newbie, but he makes up for it with heart

~~~

“Alright, Gents.” Joe said, strapping on his goggles

“Who wants to go first?”

Ben and Sherman’s hands both shot up, Zach was taking his time strapping on his hard hat.

Joe stroked his luxurious lip fluff, “Hmm, let’s see what the new recruit has to offer. Sherman, you’re up.”

Sherman pumped his fist and smiled at Ben. Ben gave him a curt snort before tossing the sledgehammer at him. Sherman fumbled the catch but managed to miss having it land on his toes. He gathered up the hammer and scurried to the center of the junkyard where they had set up their latest target. A sleek, heavy duty, Ironclad™ mini-vault safe.

“Okay,” Sherman said, squaring his feet and tugging at his leather gloves. “Watch this.”

He brought the sledgehammer way back behind him, twisting almost all the way around. He then let out a warrior cry, something of a mix between a painful yelp and yodelling, and brought the sledgehammer against the side of the safe. The metal-on-metal clang rang out through the junkyard. The others brought their hands up over their ears. The safe keeled onto two of its legs before settling back to stability. The ringing died out and Sherman turned around.

His whole body was shaking from the heavy impact. “How was that?”

Zach gave a golf clap, Joe chuckled under his breath. Ben shook his head, “Alright alright, amateur hour is over. We don’t have all night to bust this thing open.”

He sauntered over to Sherman and snagged the sledge out of his trembling hands. Sherman smiled up at him, expectantly. Ben scowled down the bridge of his nose at him. “Uh…Not bad, I guess.” He sniffed and noticed the small dent at the side of the safe, “Now, stand back. Let me show you how it’s done.” He smirked.

Sherman nodded and scuttled back a few steps. Ben took the sledgehammer in his hands and tested its weight, a few test swings swiping at the air. Like a baseball star, he rolled his shoulders, spat on his hands, shook his arms out.

“While we’re young, tough guy.” Joe called out.

“Bite Me, Nerd!” Ben hollered back.

Joe folded his arms and laughed. He turned to Zach, “Think he can actually bust that thing open?”

Zach had finished suiting up with a dust mask and looked like a post-apocalyptic refugee. Zach looked at Ben’s prep ritual and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I heard that.” Ben said, shouldering the hammer, “Okay, here we go.” He whipped the hammer high over his head and roared his own battle cry. For a whole minute, Ben whaled against the safe. He slammed the sides, top and legs, driving the safe into the dirt. Over and over the hammer fell to the brittle tune of clanging metal. When he finished, the sledge hammer landed beside him with a heavy thud. Ben fought to catch his breath.

“Damn, what’s this thing made of?”

“WHAT!?” Shouted Sherman, standing a few feet away.

“I SAID! -Nevermind.” Ben dragged the hammer back to where Joe was standing. Zach had vanished to places unknown. Sherman hustled behind him.

“Alright, Joe.” Ben said, holding out the hammer to him. “Show us what you got.”

Joe lifted his eyebrows, “What’s this? You’ve given up?”

Sherman, ears slowly returning to their rightful tone frequency, chimed in, “Hey hey, I can go again.”

Ben ignored him, “This was your idea, fearless leader. Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Joe looked at the hammer, then back at Joe. “Alright, Ben.” He took the tool out of Ben’s hands, “But when I crack this thing open, I expect you to start treating me with a little more respect.”

Ben scoffed as Joe whisped past him. Sherman scooted up beside Ben, who stepped a little bit away. Sherman followed. Ben grumbled.

Joe came to the center of the junkyard. The atmosphere of the yard became heavy. He dragged the metal sledge along the ground and it rattled against the various pieces of scrap along the way. The florescent lights hummed above and there was a quiet breeze that picked up a few scattered bits of paper, causing them to dance in the air.

Joe squared off with the safe. He took a deep breath and pulled the heavy sledge hammer into the air. He ratcheted his torso, twisting back and leveling the hammer. The air stood still in anticipation. Ben and Sherman held their breath, along with Zach, whom had returned at some point. Then, with a mighty howl, Joe spun his body and connected with the pointed edge of the safe. The metal clang was joined with a loud crack and snap. The head of the sledgehammer sailed through the air and landed a few feet away from Joe with a dull thud. The safe had been scuffed to the side a few inches, but aside from that was unchanged.

Ben clucked and doubled over, laughing heartily. Sherman shouted from beside him, “That was Awesome!”

Joe turned and casually walked over to the busted head of the hammer. He regarded it before gathering the lump of metal and returning to the rest of the crew.

“Well gents, looks like- Ben you can stop now- looks like we’ll need another plan.”

“What’s in the safe, anyway?” Sherman asked.

“Documents, of some nature.” Said Joe. “They must be pretty dangerous if they want us to Wreck them.”

“What if,” Sherman said, looking excitedly between Joe and Ben, Zach had shuffled off to sniff around the safe. “What if we just hold the stuff ransom? Maybe we can blackmail the guy?”

Joe stroked his stache. Ben gathered himself, “No, cause then we wouldn’t be the Wreckers anymore.” He folded his arms in a tough guy flex, “We’d be the Blackmailers. Or whatever.”

Joe nodded, “He’s right, and I’m already getting T-shirts made.”

“We’re Getting T-Shirts?” Sherman exclaimed.

“You bet, as soon as we crack this safe. Now then.” Joe looked at the busted sledgehammer, “We’ll need a new plan to get those–”

“Done,” Zach said, holding up a manila folder stuffed with documents, the word “classified” was barely visible on a sheet jutting from the mass.

They all looked at the folder, then to the safe, the door was open with no further apparent damage. Joe, with an exceedingly puzzled look on his face, took the folder.

Sherman gawked, “How did you do that?”

Zach held out his hands and gestured with is fingers, wiggling them and twisting his wrist. “Just…ya know.” He did some more wangjangling and fidgeting, “That.” He nodded with a satisfied look on his face.

Sherman watched the display intently, mimicking the frivolous actions as best he could. When Zach was done, he looked at his hands. “That’s wild,” He said, a little disheartened that it made little sense to him.

Ben scoffed, “Well, whatever. I probably loosened it up for him.” He looked over to Joe, “Alright, so now..?” He trailed off expectantly.

Joe took the hint and walked over to an oil drum, “Now, we do what we do best.” He tossed the folder into the bin.

“We Wreck Stuff!” Sherman called out and ran back to the edge of the clearing, grabbing a half tank of gasoline they had stashed there. He hustled it over to Ben and handed off the payload. Sherman had not yet achieved “Burn it” status yet, but he was eager to help.

They gathered around the drum as Ben poured in a responsible amount of fuel into the drum, and then added an irresponsible amount with a sinister grin.

Joe held a hand out to Zach, who whipped a match from his pocket and placed it into Joe’s palm. “Alright Ben, that’s enough.”

Ben rejoined them and set down the tank of gasoline. The three of them watched Joe expectantly.

“This is another job,” Joe lit the match with a strike against his teeth, “Well done.”

He tossed the match into the oil drum and it immediately burst into a column of flame. The four of them stepped back at the spectacle.

“This is so damn cool.” Said Sherman. “Don’t you think this is cool?” He said, turning to Zach.

“Maybe.” Said Zach, who was already busy trying to pry open the lid of what looked like a jewel box.

Ben glanced at Joe, “‘Well done’? Are you freakin serious?”

“What can I say, I have a–,” Joe turned to Ben, so the firelight glimmered off his goggles, “Flare for dramatics.”

Ben groaned.

YO WRITERS

Stop what you’re doing right now and go write 3 sentences of your story.

Every time you see this, write 3 lines.

Reblog so other writers will do the same, let’s finish these damn stories.

I submitted a bio for an application to have my poetry looked at and I decided on this:

Tamara is a queer female poet, musician, and actress from PA. She is also a Taurus, but isn’t quite as happy about it as the other things. She once climbed out a window to avoid small talk.

i randomly wandered into an art gallery with live music and a full cheese spread and im going ape

Banzai

If I can ever recommend one thing to you, it is this:

I have several done years of RPing, and this has taken me to countless different forums and, if you are at all familiar with RP forums, let me tell you, they were the lowest of the low some six or seven years ago.

In one of these forums, a legendary tale happened, a tale that, if I can ever recommend one thing to you, it is this:

The Ballad of Edgardo.

A story that happened to an anonymous RPer years ago.

Anyone will be able to appreciate it (and trust me, you will), but if you are kinsmen or kinswomen to me, if you ever had to experience the shittiest of RP forums and their terrible userbases, particularly that one guy that does whatever he wants and is an asshole that clearly godmods but gets away with it because the actual mods don’t give a damn, you will find the beauty behind the ballad that much brighter.

Just trust me on this one. It’s not a particularly long read, either.

I hope you enjoy The Ballad of Edgardo

Black Horror Writers

Feeling a sudden desire, for whatever reason, to add some diversity to your bookshelf? Want to put a few bucks in the pockets of authors of color? Here’s a sampler platter to get you started. 

Tananarive Due A film historian and a hot name in horror fiction, Due is an outspoken academic and prolific author. Start with The Good House, a 2003 Gothic, if you’re a fan of haunted house stories.

Wrath James White A former athlete, White is a hugely prolific author of hardcore horror. You can start with The Resurrectionist, but honestly, with more than 35 books to choose from, you’ve got plenty of options.

Victor LaValle LaValle has only written four novels so far, but they’re well-regarded and rich narratives. The Changeling is the usual recommendation for a starting place.

Brandon Massey Southern Gothic themes woven through horror, suspense and urban themes - that’s Massey’s brand in a nutshell. He’s plenty prolific, so you’ve got a bunch to choose from. Maybe start with this year’s new release, The Quiet Ones.

Chesya Burke A prolific short story writer, Burke writes speculative fiction and comic books. If you’d like a collection of stories all in one place, try out Let’s Play White. If you’d rather do a novel, read The Strange Crimes of Little Africa.

Jemiah Jefferson Do you like pulpy erotic vampire horror? You don’t have to answer that. Just buy Jefferson’s books if you do. There’s a series, so you’ll want to start at the beginning with Voice of the Blood.

Michael Boatman An actor and screenwriter, Boatman is also a novelist. He writes splatterpunk that Joe Lansdale has praised, which is as fine an accolade as they come. The Revenant Road was his first novel. He also shows up in a ton of anthologies, so keep an eye out.

Helen Oyeyemi Oyeyemi is a rising star, Shirley Jackson Award finalist, scholar, a world traveler, among other things. Her most recent book, Gingerbread, came out in 2019. I think it would not be out of line to compare her to Angela Carter.

Maurice Carlos Ruffin A debut novelist, Ruffin’s work launched with a bang in February. His book We Cast a Shadow was long-listed for a stack of prizes, and as a scathing cultural sci-fi horror, it fits right in with the work of folks like Jordan Peele.

Nnedi Okorafor A Nigerian-American writer, Okorafor writes for both children and adults, and her stories have earned a whole stack of awards. She is, for the record, also disabled. She’s got a whole stack of YA and adult books to choose from, as well as comic books. Binti and its sequel are as good a place as any to start, though.

Jewelle Gomez Philanthropist, playwright, poet, author – Gomez dabbles in a lot of things, and she’s an outspoken voice for LGBTQ women of color. Check out The Gilda Stories if you’ve always wanted to read about a black lesbian vampire (and, let’s be honest, who hasn’t?)

PS: When you order, don’t waste your money on Amazon. Instead, use a service like https://bookshop.org/ that distributes your hard-earned cash to independent booksellers. Keep money in your community. 

PPS: I love Toni Morrison and Octavia Butler and also left them off the list because they’re well-known already and because I think it’s really important right now to support living artists, but you should check out their work too. 

Fact 1: In most versions of Dungeons & Dragons, when infected – as opposed to natural-born – lycanthropes transform under the full moon, they assume the default alignment of their type during the ensuing mindless rampage.

Fact 2: In most versions of Dungeons & Dragons, the default alignment of werebears is Lawful Good.

Conclusion: When an infected werebear transforms under the full moon, they go on a mindless Lawful Good rampage.

I was talking to someone today about writing, and I was surprised by how amazed they were by writers’ ability to create a story. They couldn’t understand how JKR was able to create the world of Harry Potter–how she came up a world so far removed from our reality. 

It made me realize something; not everyone can come up with worlds on a whimsy. Not everyone can create characters that they grow so fond of that they’re like real people in their eyes. Not everyone has gone through the experience of a character derailing their story and swearing it wasn’t them typing those words in that document. Not everyone can just envision a story and then just write it. 

I’ve been making stories since I was a small child–it’s something so ingrained in me that to imagine not being able to write (no matter how much I agonize over writing woes) is such a foreign concept to me. Writers, cherish your ability to create stories. Because not everyone can create stories. Because there isn’t anyone in the world who can write the stories you are writing. Because you don’t know when or where there might be a person in the world who needs to hear your story.

if you are 13 and there is a 17/18 year old showing interest in you: please run away and never look back. i understand that you feel special; that older person will tell you how mature you are and make you feel special. but please. run away from that person. stay away from them. they do not love you. an 18 year old should not have ANY interest in a 13 year old. please. please be safe. please do not let them manipulate you. they are dangerous. stay away from them

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