Amazon just recced me a show called Hidden Killers of the Edwardian and Victorian Home and I’m a little creeped out by how well it knows me.
I’m like 10 minutes in and have learned more about early household electricity than I probably wanted to know but seriously anyone writing 19th and early 20th century mystery fics needs to watch this show because I can tell it has a wealth of period specific ways to cover up a murder.
Also anyone who knows even a little bit about the history of consumer and worker safety especially in the industrial revolution and is still anti regulation 100% cares more about profits than people.
my fave SCP is Geoff who is basically a regular guy who doesnt even work at the SCP foundation but just happens to keep wandering into high-security parts of the building by accident somehow and escapes containment the same way
like it says its an SCP on probation because they cant prove if he has some supernatural power or if hes just a guy who knows all of the passwords to the SCP foundation
I think my favorite part are the transcripts
“Commander Price: Alright people, it’s go time! I
want suppressing fire on this thing NOW! Neptune squadron, hit it with
everything you’ve got! If this thing gets one claw to the surface, then—
SCP-008-J: Hey, I remember you!
Commander Price: (Exasperated and enraged) FUCK!
SCP-008-J: Can you help me out? I’m a bit turned around. I’m trying to get to Grays Street.
Commander Price: WE’RE 3,000 METERS UNDER THE FUCKING OCEAN!
SCP-008-J: (Produces smartphone) Well that explains why my map won’t load.
Commander Price: WHO THE FLAMING CHRIST ARE YOU!?
SCP-008-J: Geoff, remember? Hey, are you on Facebook? I feel like I keep running into you! We should be friends!”
Geoff is tormenting this poor commander for no reason.
I like the non horror SCPs. Most of the horror ones are ok but the non horror ones are amazing.
My favorite one is a book that when you read it makes you fall asleep then you have an amazing fantasy adventure,
SCP-1230. It doesn’t steal the energy of people, it doesn’t make you die if you die while dreaming, it’s just the most kick ass adventure of your life.
Also it’s sad because the book tries as hard as it can to make people happy but one time this guy who is super into fantasy and stuff used and was asleep for like day and in the dream it was 200 years. The after he got out he killed himself because he just couldn’t take going back to the normal world. When that happened the book grew depressed and sad. The pages were wet as if someone had been crying on them and it keep saying it was sorry.
Eventually a researcher used a sticky note to communicate that he wanted to talk with it. He then fell asleep and met with the manifestation of the book in the dream world, he talked with him and was able to learn what happened and through visiting him and using sticky notes he was able to help it out and it eventually started displaying
“A hero is born” on its pages
again.
I LOVE THAT
One of my favorite SCP’s is this giant, old house that nobody dares to touch because they all think it’s haunted. Eventually, the researchers find that the house isn’t haunted, but hosts an inter-dimensional portal, and some sort of Lovecraftian horror is communicating with the tenants.
He’s not really evil or anything; he’s actually pretty laid back. It’s just that he’s just kind of racist against carbon-based life forms and is really passive-aggressive.
My favorite is the toaster that makes people talk about it in the first person. Even the entirety of the report is written as “I am a toaster. I toast bread just like any other toaster” People don’t even realize they’re doing this and there are no negative side effects they’ll just go right back to normal when they leave the toaster it’s ridiculous
Aries: A knight in armor made of glittering emerald chitin. Blades wielded in reverse, fighting with an alien grace.
Taurus: Towering knights decked in the hides of long-dead beasts. Colossal greatbows hewn from ancient oak trees heft arrows that could split a man in two.
Gemini: Proud knights, gilded chains worked into their helmets to resemble a lions mane. Their stature a demonstration of the wealth and power of their empress.
Cancer: A holy knight (of sorts). Their ceremonial hammer cocooned in spines, their armor blackened with soot.
Leo: A bodyguard. A legendary elite, now forgotten to the march of time. They wander the halls of the palace, now frozen and abandoned, searching for their young lord.
Virgo: Knights veiled in silk, every inch of their skin is covered. Their armor host to a hive of stinging insects. Long, thin, swords for piercing maille, the tip soaked in poison with intoxicating effects.
Libra: Sorcerer knights of a far western land. Pointed scarlet helmets and long barbed torches that function as halberd and a conduit for spells. Their armor jingles with medals and pendants covered in arcane scribbles.
Scorpio: A lonely knight in a thick cloak, illuminated only by the lantern they carry, light glinting off the silver spade in their other hand. They patrol the field of corpses, scanning for signs of movement.
Ophiuchus: Zealots of a forbidden faith. Slaves to their fervor, masks made from shed skin. Young, feeble wings stitched to their shoulder blades.
Sagittarius: Knights from an age of powder and shot. Sloped armor deflecting rounds as if they were blades. A shield on one arm, a revolver on the other.
Capricorn: A knight with heavily reinforced gauntlets. Forgoing weapons and shields for simply bashing opponents with their fists.
Aquarius: Trailblazers and pathfinders. Bows and axes double as weapons and survival tools. Old, dog eared books of spells, hand drawn maps folded into the pages. Searching for their lost brethren.
Pisces: Dancing knights. Flexible pikes used to vault over bulwarks. Bags and straps full of daggers and firebombs. Colorful domino masks a nod to their origins.
(2/2) “Mom tried her best to pay for flight school, but we kept running out of money. I’d have to drop out for a few weeks, and since flying involves so much muscle memory, it would take me a while to get back on track. So one day I bought a stack of magazines and newspapers. I went through every page and cut out the advertisements. Then I opened my pantry and wrote down every brand I could find. I sent all of them letters, asking for help. Almost everyone said ‘no.’ But I did receive an amount from a grocery store called Pick-n-Pay. And Breitling sent me a brand new watch to raffle. That was a huge break. I sold six hundred raffle tickets. Things were going so well. African Pilot Magazine promoted the raffle for free. A man from Australia bought 100 tickets. But then I got a letter from the Lottery Board ordering me to end my raffle. They said it was illegal. I tried to explain that I was raising money for my education, but they didn’t care. I was so disappointed. I’d have to sit out another year of flight school. But when I called everyone to explain the situation, nobody would accept their money back. They told me to keep it! It was enough to keep me in the air for months. Then around Christmas that year, one of my mentors invited me to eat lunch at the airport. When I stepped out of the car, everyone who had ever helped me was there. They all started clapping. And somebody handed me the phone. A person on the other end said: ‘You’re live on 94.7, and we’re going to pay for your entire education!’ That was nearly four years ago. I just got my license last week. My plan is to fly for South African Airlines, but first I want to do some teaching. I want to visit schools in black neighborhoods. I want all the kids to see what an African female pilot looks like.” (Johannesburg, South Africa)
There’s a seriously delightful conversation in one of the LARP fb groups about adventuring over 40. Many of us aren’t 20 anymore, and it seems silly to have our characters not be our own age (or close to it). But they’re still starting characters (as it’s a new campaign), which implies they chose this path recently.
That thread is mostly joking around, but I kind of love the idea of hearing The Call when you’re not a teenager, and starting your in-game adventuring life later as some kind of mid-life crisis, religious epiphany, empty nest reaction, etc.
Which got me to some ficlets, and here’s the result.
—
“Well, your mother always wanted to be an adventurer – she was a hell of an archer when we were your age – but we got pregnant, and your grandmother needed some help, so we put that life off for a while. But now that you’re off at university, it seems like a good time to pick up the bow again, and go fight evil.“
—
“There was just something missing, y’know? I mean, I liked being a toymaker, but one day I realized – I really wanted to put on some plate mail, and go fight demons. So here I am, livin’ the dream.“
—
“Sometimes, relationships don’t work out. She got the business, I get to start the life of adventure I’ve always wanted. Did you know I minored in alchemy? It’s good to get back into it again.”
—
“Your Aunt Maribel and I had always talked about doing this, when we were girls, but it just never seemed like the right time. But now that Uncle Haro has passed…Mari just wants to get out there and do it. I can’t let her go alone, can I? Someone has to watch her flank on the line, and remind her to keep her shield up.“
—
“What can I say? Sometimes you fall in love with a mage. When you do, you grab your hammer and you go where he goes. Someone has to keep cute Dukes from flirting with him. Back off, gentry! He’s all mine.”
“Kevin, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to fall in love with some Duke.”
“Whatever. I’m not taking any chances. It took me this long to find you, and I’m not letting you go without me.”
—
“I’m your Dad. If you’re going to go and fight evil, I’m going with you, ‘cause I support your choices.”
—
“Er…Mom’s heading off to check out some evil gate she heard about. Someone needs to go with her, ok? I squired for her last time, but I just can’t right now. It’s your turn. Make sure she does her exercises, ok? Her back is going to be horrid if she doesn’t.“
“Fine. I’ll handle the evil gate with Mom. But the next time she heads into the swamps to fight some lizard thing, you’re doing it. I freaking hate swamps.”
—
“His husband left him for an elf. He’s got some anger issues that he’s working through, ok? Better that he work through it on some bad guys.”
—
“What was that?” “Undead again.” “Oh, for the love of..look. They’re a freaking plague, and it’s getting worse. If we don’t want to keep dealing with this, we’re just going to have to go to the source.” “But….the carrots…!” “Hang the damned carrots. I’ll hire that nice boy down the street to take care of our field while we’re gone. Clean yourself up and grab your holy symbol. We’re not putting up with this for one more week.”
—
“Well, I always wanted to see the world. I got a small inheritance recently, and thought, why the heck not? No time like the present, right?”
—
“If that Sorcerer thinks he can just waltz in here and take over this town, he’s got another think coming!” “Doris, calm down. We’ll write to the King, and…” “I WILL NOT CALM DOWN. Sally, I swear, you drive me nuts sometimes.” “I’m just saying – there’s diplomatic solutions to this.” “The hell with diplomatic solutions! I WILL END HIM. ” “Fiiiiiine. Do it your way. End him with fire.” “Thank you!” *smooches* “Love you. Back when I’m back. He has NO IDEA who is coming for him.”
—
“What can I say? Adventuring pays the bills. I have a family to support, and turnip farming doesn’t make money like it used to.”
—
“Hey Phineas – for guys’ night, I have a thought. Rather than just going down to the pub like we usually do…I found a gate. No idea where it leads. Let’s go check it out. Could be fun, right?” “A gate?” “Yeah!” “This is a terrible idea. I’m in.”
—
“Um….well, this is awkward. You know that Goddess who spoke to me last spring?” “Oh yeah! Your whole conversion thing. Nice to see you found faith. It’s been good for you, I think.” “Well, she has something she wants me to take care of.” “What, like…a message delivered or something?” “Noooooooo?” “Seriously? You’re a florist. What does she want you to do?” “Well, now when I sing, things blow up. That’s good, right?” “This can’t end well.”
—
“We left for THREE WEEKS, and Barbarians razed our village. I swear, do I have to do everything myself? I JUST RE-DID THE ROOF, YOU JERKS.”
—
“He doesn’t think our family is good enough for him? I’ll show him who is good enough for him! My little girl is going to live in a castle, even if I have to conquer it myself!” “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.” “We’ll see what he has to say when I walk into Summertide with a demon’s head on a spike! Who’s good enough now, you two-bit merchant?!?”
—
“Your Aunt recently found out that Throgg the Destroyer is that brat she couldn’t stand at the Academy. She’s not taking it well, so we’re going to be off on a trip for a while…”
—
“So….funny story. You know that favor I owe the Countess? From like 20 years ago? She finally called it in. She remembered that I’m really good with Ancient Runes, and apparently there’s something she needs checked out.”
—
“I thought you said this adventuring thing was just a hobby, Brianna. Something we did on the weekends.” “Well, but…y’know…I really like it. I think I could be good at it. I’m getting better with the spear, you know?” “I don’t even know you anymore!” “Can’t you just be supportive?” “Well, but where does it end? First hobgoblins, now orcs…what’s next?” “I heard about this cursed tomb…” “Absolutely not. I draw the line at tombs. NO TOMBS.”
—
“I told you not to date that vampire. Didn’t I tell you? I told you!” “Let me live, Sergio.” “Let me unlive, you mean.” “Ok, that’s just rude.”
—
“Oh, sure – one good healing spell, and you think you can conquer the world.” “I can! I have the knees of a teenager again!”
—
“Grandpa, you’re embarrassing me.” “What, I can’t visit my grandson while he’s adventuring?” “Well, I love having you here, and everyone knows you’re a good healer, but…” “I’ll be fine. I like it here. I think I’ll stay.”
—
“C’mon, let’s do it. We’ve always wanted to.” “But…we don’t know what we’re doing.” “We do! We’ve each read The Book, what….15 times? I know you basically have it committed to memory.” “I don’t think ‘To Catch a Rogue Lord’ was really meant as an instruction manual.” “C’mon…how hard can it be? You’ve seen the adventurers who come through here.” “Excellent point. I’ll get my herbs.”
—
“Honey? There’s a kid at the door. He says you’re the Chosen One.” “Arrrrgh. We talked about this! Come back later!” “He says the stars are aligned?” “Not doing it! Tell him to go away.” “Oh, and the seal broke. The seal broke, Stephen. It sounds important.” “But…” “I’ll pack you a lunch.”
“Call Sharon. She and her stupid birthmark are coming with me.” “I thought you said that translation of the prophecy was incorrect? Something about a miss-translation of verb.” “…well, at least if we fail, I won’t have to listen to Karl talking at Guild Meetings about how he was right.”
these are perfect and everything is perfect and nothing hurts
The Kingdom of Zor has historically been marked by a particularly virulent strain of human supremacism. Though that era has largely passed, its legacy has proven to be so deeply entrenched in the realm’s codes of law that later reformers found it expedient simply to expand the legal definition of “human”. So it is that in the land of Zor, an elf, an animated skeleton, and a sapient protoplasmic ooze are all Human in the eyes of the law – though strangely, the legal compass of humanity continues to this day to exclude bards.
The Norgian Confederacy is infamous for its curiously inverted sumptuary laws. Being theoretically egalitarian, and priding themselves on principles of absolute social mobility, a Norgian’s manner of dress is in no wise restricted by their social station; rather, by dressing in the legally recognised manner of a particular station, they declare their membership in it. Strictly speaking these rules apply only to citizens; all the same, visitors whose outfits fail to match their preferred level of social obligation are advised to clearly advertise their foreign status, lest one be accused of dereliction of duty!
Compounded by centuries of case law and precedent, the laws of the dwarven realm of Underhome have become a muddled mess with respect to the property rights of the dead. Some rights – particularly the ownership of one’s own remains – persist after death, while others transfer to designated heirs, and still others are held in trust should the deceased later join the ranks of the undead. In the halls of royalty, the ghosts of ancient kings and queens litigate endlessly with their living descendants for dominion over the earth’s riches; these revenant monarchs – or “mineral wights”, as they’re sometimes known – stand as the greatest obstacle to Underhome’s continued prosperity.
The elvish principality of Greenwood keeps no prisoners, instead favouring a robust program of community service for the correction and rehabilitation of criminals. Their court system does not discriminate by species: animals as well as elves are often seen serving sentences for the bewildering variety of petty misdemeanours that characterise elvish legal codes. If necessary, the courts will grant a convicted animal the intelligence to understand and carry out its service; not all choose to go back to being ordinary beasts when the task is done (though many do), and so the Greenwood is home to a growing population of sapient animals with criminal records.
an incomplete list of unsettling short stories I read in textbooks
the scarlet ibis
marigolds
the diamond necklace
the monkey’s paw
the open boat
the lady and the tiger
the minister’s black veil
an occurrence at owl creek bridge
a rose for emily
(I found that one by googling “short story corpse in the house,” first result)
the cask of amontillado
the yellow wallpaper
the most dangerous game
a good man is hard to find
some are well-known, some obscure, some I enjoy as an adult, all made me uncomfortable between the ages of 11-15
add your own weird shit, I wanna be literary and disturbed
The Tell-Tale Heart, The Gift of the Magi, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calavaras County, Thank You Ma’am
the box social by james reaney. i remember we all had to silently read it in class, and you would hear the moment everyone reached the Part because some people would audibly go “what”
wHat did I just put my eyes on
“The Veldt” by Ray Bradbury
Not quite a short story, but read in class: “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” from The Twilight Zone
Harrison Bergeron, Cat and the Coffee Drinkers
“Where are you going and where have you been” by Joyce carol oates
“The Pedestrian” by Ray Bradbury
the lottery by shirley jackson
i can’t believe Roald Dahl’s “The Landlady” wasn’t already mentioned
and also it’s not so much unsettling as more absurdist but “The Leader” by Eugene Ionesco definitely made me go wtf
Ett halvt ark papper. I cried so much.
Ночь у мазара, А. Шалимов
A Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury
I Have no Mouth, and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison
The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
All Summer in a Day by Ray Bradbury
Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby, by Donald Barthelme
I read Ray Bradbury’s “All Summer In A Day” in seventh grade (it wasn’t assigned, I was just going through my textbook for new stuff to read) and as a bullied kid with SAD, it Fucked Me Up.
An Ordinary Day with Peanuts, by Shirley Jackson
Eh, this was more like community college, but The Star by Arthur C. Clarke
Lamb to the Slaughter by Roald Dahl
and this story that I can’t remember the name of and can’t find, though it might be by O. Henry? it’s about a bunch of demons who want to stop Santa Claus from going through with Christmas, and he must travel through the mountains they inhabit to escape their vices? (good christ I can’t remember the name for the life of me)
Ok but the laughing man and a good day for bananafish but j.d. Salinger
The City (195) Ray Bradbury. An intense commentary on colonialism and space exploration. I read it for a sci fi survey class.
Another short story I read in that sci fi class was Vaster than Empires and More Slow (1971) by Ursula K. Le Guin. A commentary on humanity and how human we believe ourselves to be. Also, an interesting commentary on mental health.
In the Woods Beneath the Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom, written in 1947 by Ango Sakaguchi. It made my skin crawl the first time I read it.
I didn’t read it in a text book, but “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” haunted me for life.
i scrolled straight to the bottom of this post to reblog it and save it for later, but i cannot BELIEVE with so many replies, “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” is the bottom-most addition
i'll apple your turnover 