scIENCE
….DID HOMIE JUST MAKE A MOTHERFUCKIN BUBBLE TESSERACT?
…did you just call Stephen Fry “homie”?
So I guess square bubbles are real after all
Claire Keane
h
noise dept.
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

Product Placement
Jules of Nature

JVL
Misplaced Lens Cap

tannertan36
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Love Begins

Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola
cherry valley forever
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Cosimo Galluzzi

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@fictionbyafan
scIENCE
….DID HOMIE JUST MAKE A MOTHERFUCKIN BUBBLE TESSERACT?
…did you just call Stephen Fry “homie”?
So I guess square bubbles are real after all
petition to permanently change Jack’s name to J-Hizzle
he already had a name change.
http://fictionbyafan.tumblr.com/post/101262952498/just-plain-shit-chapter-3
Just Plain Shit ~ Chapter 3
In which Jack changes his name to mayonaise and Dean is still wearing an apron.
~
"OH MY GOD THIS SOFT PINK THING IS ACTUALLY THE TOUNGUE OF ANOTHER DRAGON AND HE'S GOING TO DEVAOR US ANY MOMENT!" Dean screamed. "Man, call down. I was going to say you were right." "Really?" "Yeah, it's just a massive pile of chewing gum." "Oh. Okay." I looked around for a bit. "Do you see some sort of stairs anywhere that could lead us back up there?" "Hm. Not really." Everything around us was white. Kinda scaring. I mean- was it coming closer? There was no way to tell. "I think we should just start walking." He said. "How do you know we can even walk here? Maybe it's just a really big hole." "Are you saying you'd rating stay on this giant gumball forever? Somebody chewed this stuff man." "You licked it." "Let's not talk about that."
~ one journey through the white void later ~
"Oh look. A tiny city." And Dean was right. After an eternity of white, we were nearing a cosy looking town. Maybe those people could help us back out. There was a sign just outside the village that read: 'Welcome to Mayonaise.' "That's a rather silly name for a village." I said. "I'm going to love it here." Dean whispered. We walked through the gate, straight into the city. Everywhere were ketchup bottles, which was a bit ironic I guess. But then I noticed that they all have legs. And faces. And they were alive and that kind of stuff. I would normally be very surprised, but to put it all in perspective: there was a dragon in my oven, which was allergic to rain, then I fell through the oven, onto a massive pile of chewing gum. One of the ketchup bottles walked up to us. "Hello good sir, I've come to conclude that you must be from the outside white. Let me introduce myself. I am Mayor Mayonaise." "Mayonaise?" I asked. "Yes, sir. Do I need to speak up?" "Oh, no. I just thought, you know. All ketchup bottles and then you're-" "Why is that one wearing an apron?" The mayor asked, pointing at Dean. Or should I say: MAYO-r. .... I'm sorry I'll see myself out.
I'm back, I have to finish the story
"We don't know." I said "It's gonna come in handy later in the story." "Dude, it's not. Just take it of." "Meh, I don't know. It could be my thing. I'll be the one wearing the apron and you can be the guy with the hair that goes up." "No way." "Is that what you want us to call you?" The mayor asked. "No, no- Just call me Jack please. That's my name." "Actually it's not, Mayonaise." "I'm pretty sure I'm Jack." "You signed a contract." "No, I didn't." "Pretty sure you did." The mayor reached into his pocket and got out a sheet of paper. It read: 'Contract in which Jack Hoawrd agrees to change his name to Mayonaise.' Wait- That was actually my signature at the bottom! "What- when did I sign this?" "Summer in the City 2013." "You spelled my name wrong. It's H-O-W-A-R-D." "That's not at all how you spell Mayonaise. Can he read?" "No," Dean replied. "He had a tragic libraby accident when he was 5." "Poor boy..." "Oh- okay, fine. I don't care. Listen- can you just tell us how to get back to the oven?" "Oven? You mean the hole in the sky where the dragon hides?" "Yeah, I think so." "Never heard of it." "AW COME ON!" "Sh, Mayonaise, you're scaring them." "Don't call me Mayonaise." I said, glaring at Dean. "There's a train though." I turned around to face the Ketchup bottle. "A train?" "Yeah, it goes over the bing bong hills and the rapid rabbits lake all the way to the Tippy Tippy mountian where the magical Sandwich of Destiny lives. She might know how to magic you back to your oven!" "Yeah, that sounds cool." "Wait- Dean-" "I'm the one wearing the apron." "I'm not going to call you that." "If you don't I won't listen." "It takes too long to typ okay." "Then just copy and paste it." "Uh fine. The one wearing the apron, are you really going to trust a ketchup bottle?" "Why shouldn't I." Okay so Dean is obviously a big dork and his apron is stupid. "Sir Mayonaise, when does the next train arrive." "Half past four."
"Oh petsnails on a bike, we better keep goin then. It's already 4:20!" Dean said. "Actually it's not. I put the clock 25,minutes early." The mayonaisse mayor said. "Wait- why would you do something like that? Is it a film reference or something?" "What's a film?" "You mean you don't know what a film is?" "Is it a vegatable?" "I think you spelled that wrong." I said "Ugh, nevermind. Can you just tell us when the next train arrives?" "What's a train?" "Dude, you just told us there was a train." "Is it a vegutable?" "We have to get to the Tippy Tippy Mountian on time!" Dean said. "I think you spelled mountain wrong." I replied "What's time?" "Actually," Dean said. "Time is the fourth dimension and a measure in which events can be ordered from the past through the present to the future and also the measure of the duration of events and the intervals between them." "You just got that straight of wikipedia, didn't you." I said. "Noooooo." "Wait- where did you get that hat from?" "What hat?" "Oh nevermind. It's just your face."
To be continioud or maybe not
This Bird ~ 6-12-'13
"Amy?" Sometimes she seems to vaporate in a second and then I've lost her. I turned around. A few feet behind, she was croached down on the side of the road. She had found something. I walked back without cussing a word and bend down beside her. She picked up a brick of leaves that where frozen together. The cold object turned her fingers red. I was about to ask her why she had stopped to study such an unintesting seeming object, when I saw that something I earlier assumed to be just another leaf, was actually a frog. Or maybe a toad. It was brown and not that big, incubatade with ice. "Wow," I said, followed by, "Poor fellow." She shook her head and turned the ice fossil over. "It's a things some frogs do when winter comes. They're cold-blooded, so they can freeze, but they won't die. That way when it gets warmer the ice melts and they live up again."
This Bird ~ 2-11-'13
She was really good at impersonating Silence, before and after her death. I noticed everytime I tried to make conversation with her.
"So..." I said. The simple phrase got swallowed by the noise that filled the small cafe. I let out an awkward chuckle, which she mirrored with a smile.
"You're not from here, are you?" I immediately regretted my choice of conversation topic. I saw it in her eyes. The 'oh'. She has been asked this question a billion times before. She hoped I'd ask something more interresting like maybe what kind of music she like or what animal she'd want to be. She's a lot better at asking questions than I am.
"I'm from Salthill." She said. I could just hear it. "Oh, okay." I had no clue where that was. I just imagined her living on a pile of salt.
"It's somewhere in Ireland. West coast." She added. Great, she already put you into the catergory of people who don't know in which country Salthill lies. She played with the stray of her drink. She had ordered a hot chocolate that had been served in a tall glass with a massive knob of whipped cream on top. Because it was a clear glass I could ser how the cream got mixed up with the beverage. For a moment I was just as enchanted by the sight of it as she was.
"Are you studying anything or- um. What brought you here?" I took a sip of my tea, feeling incredibly contious about how much I sucked at making conversation. She looked up from the glass. Her eyes were darker then the chocolate. Our eyes locked for a little bit longer than neccesary. Or maybe time just slowed down. She told me time does that sometimes.
"I just needed something new." She said.
This Bird ~ 20-12-'13
Waiting. I've never liked it. Let's be blunt and say I hate it. I can't stand that period between now and then when time seems to solidify. I felt the time clot in my veins. The blood could no longer get through. Stuck. My mouth opened and I wanted to scream for help. Somebody make this waiting stop! No, not scream for help. I'd scream out of desparation. Trying to scare time out of my veins. Make it flow again. Make the waiting end. I could scream. I don't and I shouldn't. They would probably understand. They'd as me if I was alright. If I needed to be alone for a moment. If I wanted a drink while I was waiting. Waiting. It's never done me any good.
The waiting had made my drink go cold. And I just stared into the liquid. At the small bubbles that had gathered around the edge. where the surface hit the carton of the cup.it looked kind like frogspawn. That thought didn't made the drink look any more appealing.
This Bird ~ 25-10-'13
This Bird ~ 17-12-'13
It was another one of those nights where we'd sit on an upside down sofa, eating icecream and whilst watching a movie. Appearantly the rest of the world calls them wednesdays.
I was wrapped around her like a blanket. Her legs between mine, my arms around her waist, her back against my chest, so she was softly rocking back and forth with every breath I took. She smelled like citrus, icecream and a hint of gingerbread. Everything about this moment was right. It felt good in it's simplicity.
"Peach." She said suddenly, drawing my attention from the moment. I wasn't really watching. "Yeah." I replied, my head on top of hers. "Do you believe in an afterlife?" "Hm," I took a second to reply. "I don't know. I'd like to think so, but I don't think there's actually something like heaven." "How about you?" I asked after a while. "Me neither." She said and added: "I'm glad." "Why?" I asked. "I think I'd be pretty bored by the time I die. I don't think there'd be much left to do." "Really? I've never seen you bored." She shrugged. My arms got pulled up along with her shoulders. "What if you die young though. Like- what if you get hit by a bus an never get to do those things you wanted to do?" It took some time for her to answer. "It wouldn't really matter anymore, because I'd be dead."
This Bird ~ 15-12-'13
"Amy." I whispered. No responce. I repeated myself a little louder.
"Amy." I tried softly poking her cheek. She becan to stir and slowly her eyelids quinted open. There was always that little moment. She grunted and turned over when she saw the camera.
"Amy, come on." I whined. "You have to get up. I have a surprise." I didn't need to see her eyes to read her thoughts: 'what ever it is can wait for at least ten minutes. Approxiamately twenty.'
"Pleeeasee." No responce. "It's melting..." This seemed to have gained some of her interest. Slowly she turned over, her eyes still small of sleep.
"Go look outside." I whispered. There was a brief moment of nothing before she rolled of the matress and walked over to the window. I followed her, refocusing on her face, so it catched every single one of her freckles. She pulled the curtain away. I can only discribe it as happiness, the look at her face when she saw the snow dance again the glass. She quickly looked over at me and I was so grateful to myself for capturing this moment. Later I would pauze the video at that moment and I think to myself: that's how I want to remember her.
On My Legacy
So there are a few things I wanted to say before I start posting My Legacy, the first being that I might decide to change the title at some point, because I'm not really that satisfied with this one.
Beside that I think you should know that this story is going to be quite confusing. It is everything but chhronological. This story is going to be a string of memories, tied together in a certain order. The chapters with have dates for titles, so you kind of get an idea what the time span between two events is. However, please read the chapters in the order of which I present them to you. Once all chapter are posted I'll make a link to a blog where everything is posted in chronologic order, do you can re-read it if you fancy. Another thing I wanted to add is that chapters are going to be short. Mostly about 200-300 words. There are however over a hunderd chapters, so in the end it's not a short story.
That's all for now I hope to put up the first few chapters later today.
Tacita Verba
My Legacy ~ Prologue
Let me start this story with a question: Have you ever seen a bird cry? Let me guess. Of course you haven't. Have you ever wondered whether birds can cry? They can't. Humans are the only living creatures capable of crying emotional tears. She told me that a while ago.
You see, this is not my story. It is a little bit, but mostly hers. I'm telling it to you, because I'm afraid that no one else will ever do it. I don't think she would have minded if no one knew her name. I didn't even know her name for a large period of time, but I'll come back to that later. The reason why no one else would have told you her story, is because no one else knew. She didn't tell any one. She didn't even tell me, but she told the paper and the paper told me. I am telling you this story because she would never dare to ask anyone to listen. She wouldn't tell, even if she could. She can't. She's dead now. Let's clear that up before we start.
She was really dear to me. I've seen one, you know. A bird. A really special one. A bird that could cry. One of a kind. So here's that story. Even if you are not listening, at least it's being told.
Thank you so much for 100 followers
I never intended on making this followers thing a big deal, but on the other hand I never expected more than 20 people to ever bother to read my work. So thank you so, so much for simply clicking the follow button, because this is mental. This is so surreal to me. I forgot the words.
As I've said before, I've been working on something for the past 10 months or so and I'm trying to finish it so I can publish it and share it with you. I didn't want to publish it until it's completely finished for several reasons, but I felt like this was calling for a celebration. Now, I know it's not much. It's only an introduction, but just remember that I am really proud of this work and I really want to share it with you, but at the same time I want it to be the best thing it can possibly be. I'm not even sure about the title. Do you like it? Please let me know.
So bare with me. I'll try to post some shorter stuff in the mean time.
And again, thank you so much.
Tacita Verba
Authors Note
Hello dear readers!
First of all I want to thank all of you who have followed me over the past days. It really means a lot to me that you are enjoying my writing. Second I want to say that, although this blog has gone silent for a while, I have been working really hard on some new stuff that I hope to put up about two weeks from now. I hope to make another blogpost about this project later today.
On Limbo ~ Author's note
Limbo came to be when I heared the word that has become the title. I was suddenly struck by the idea of a person living in literal darkness. And so I just started writing.
Limbo really just came to be on the keybord and to be honest I'm kind of impressed with it. It sure is a fun experiment to take a word and challege yourself to come up with a story.
It's a pretty vague story and honestly I haven't really thought any further than what I wrote. So tell me, what do you think it's about? Where is the person? What is happening 'outside'? What is the relation between the boy and the other person?
The only bit of thought really I put into it was that on the end of each day the person asks which day it is. The answer of the day before soon was: "February 268th." The next day must have been March 1th (unless it was a leapyear, but that's a 25% chance so shut up." but because he/she never got to ask that question when 'soon' arrived, he/ she just assumes it was February 29.
That was all I have to say about it. I didn't really picture anyone specificly to be the boy, so go ahead and imagine anyone to be that person.
Thanks for reading
Tacita Verba
Limbo ~ One Shot
I was eight the last time I saw light. I can only vaguely rememer what it looks like.
There's something oddy peacefull about darkness. Something consistent.Everything would always be the same old shade of black. Which does get boring at times. So I try to remember what the colours lookes like and what their names are. And when I forgot he would remind me and he would try to describe them as well as he could. He really tried, but they all looked pretty much the same to me.
I can't really tell how long I've been here. Even if there's a clock or a calendar around here, they're all the same colour. Everything was black. The table, both of the chairs, my bed, the carpet, the bookcase, full of book I couldn't read. I have befriended this furniture. By now, I've explore every inch of this room. Or maybe I've just been walking in circles all along. There's no way to tell really.
The boy says it's been eight years and I guess I'll just have to trust him on that. The boy would come every day. He would come and talk to me. If not more whisper. Sometimes I forgot what he looked like and he'd describe himself to me. And then I'd remember and even the colours come back. He's always way to humble. So I'd correct him and then he'd correct me. Sometimes I ask him to sing about the man who went to sea. He always tells me he can't. "They might hear us." "When it's safe up there, we will sing." He says. Sometimes I'd ask him if I've gone blind. He would promised me I hadn't. And then I'd ask him how he knew and he'd say he knew. I would ask him when I could come out and see the lights again. And he'd promise me: 'soon'.
I don't remember soon being a number on the clock or a day on the calender. And despite my lack of awareness of time, I guess I'd expect 'soon' to arrive... sooner.
Until 'soon', I'll be here waiting. Waiting untill I can see. Sometimes I imagine what the world will look like. The boy has told me it's not pretty. He wants me to wait here until he has rebuild it. He says they're trying to get everything back to how it was even before I last saw light. And just before he leaves I'd ask him what day it was. And he'd say: "December 14th." or "May 27th."
It was February 29th when 'soon' arrived. A beam of light hit the carpet and suddenly the carpet was blue. I looked up and in the bright light stood a man that looked nothing like the boy.
Between These Leaves ~ The First Summer
As every other year, summer came with longer days and shorter nights. The sunlight tickled my aging skin as I stood there were I had been before. The field that never seemed to change. I've seen the blackberries pop up on the bushes. It was only a matter of time untill the childeren would come to pick them and sit down in our shadow to find protection from the heat.
Here summer didn't only come with heat and rain. It came with childeren, who would keep me up during the already shortend nights. They would run around, kicking footballs and singing naughty songs they had taught eachother.
Summer brought life to the otherwise lonely field in this forest. And this year was no difference. I could hear them coming. The cars that pulled up on the tenting camp, about 60 feet away from my toes. The slamming of car doors. Fathers arguing with their childeren about them having to carry they own bags. They were big kids now. They would be able to lift them themself. The childeren cheerfully greeting eachother, excited to tell about everything that had happened in the 358 days away from these woods. The parents saying goodbye to their childeren. A single mother chedding a small tear. The cars driving off. The Pals failing to get the childeren to calm down. And after lunch they would come. They would all run to the field and set up their batminton games or eat all the sweets they had brought, which weren't actually allowed.
It was the same as every year. Except this time there was only one girl. Her ebony hair sweeped from left to right as she ran straight into the field. She had it up in a ponytail. Once in the open air she looked around as if she was looking for something, which was unlikely because there was nothing here. All the blackberries had already been eated by the mockingjays that took their chance before this girl could.
She seemed allerted by the voice behind her, shouting numbers. She ran up to me. And then it happend. She jumped. And at first she missed but at the third try she got hold of one of my arms and pulled herself up. My finges shivered when she pushed them aside. She clam higher, pushing my hands aside to reach up. When she was about 10 feet up in the air she sat down to catch her breath. From here I could have a better look at her. She was wearing a blue striped tee and denim shorts that exposed her tanned legs to the scratches my fingers left on her skin. On her dangling feet she wore slippers with beads sewn onto them. She looked at me. I kind of expected her to thank me for holding her up, for welcoming her dispite her unanounched visit. But she didn't say anything. Just looked at me. In admiration I'd like to believe. As she trailed my wrinkles with her littles finger she must have thought of how old and wise I much be. She must have wished to once become as wise and strong as me. Her gaze was suddenly pulled away from me as a twig broke. What I saw, but she didn't, was that a boy had entered the field. A boy of her age, his hair as dark as hers. He looked around as if he was looking for something, which was like more now. Slowly he walked up the field. When he ended up standing next to me, the girl giggled and kicked her feet in pleasure. Which she shouldn't have done. One of her slippers flew of her feet and hit the back of the boys head. In a jolt the boy spun around and hastly looked around to find the person that hit him. This caused the girl to burst out in laughter and for the first time the boy decided to look up. He looked stunned as he saw us towering above him. I can't judge her for laughing. I probably would have too, if only I had a mouth.
"Hey!" the boy yelled. "What was that for?" The girl stopped laughing and said: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you." "Well, you're not even allowed to hide in a tree." "Nobody said I couldn't." "Well, I've said it now." "Ow, since when do you make the rules, mister?" He boy opened his mouth, but then shut it again. "Ha, I win!" "No, you don't! I found you so I win! And you better get out now, before I get a Pal!" Over the years I've learned that the Pals are kind of the guardians of these summercamps. They are mostly students that act like they like little kids. Most of the time they like the money a lot better than the kids. Happily for these Pals, this was the 10-11 yrs group, which meant that there was a seemily smaller chance you would encounter a bedwetter.
"Unless you can't because you're scared." The boy said with a grin. "Scared? Please. I can come out any time I want." "Get down then." "Nope." She bendes forward a little bit. "Make me." She said, defiantly. "I'm not going to climb in there." "And why not? Is someone scared?" "No! We're not allowed." The girl sighed. "Fiiiine." And with a few simple movements she turned down my arms and solidly landed on the ground beneath me. She brushed the hair out of her face and looked up. The boy glanced over at her name tag.
"Anna." He stated. Come on boy, it clearly says Hanna. They killed some of my friend to print that. At least try to make use of it. "Hanna." She corrected him. "That's what I said." "No, you said Anna." "Whatever. Why doens't it have an H?" "It does have an H." "No. I mean on the end. All Hannah's I know write their name H-A-N-N-A-H." "Well why doesn't Tim have an H in the end." The boy frown at her. "Because that'd be stupid." "You are stupid." "Well, you're stupider!" The girl smiled. "For as far as I know, Timh, you haven't won untill you've tagged me." And with those words she sprinted away. It took the boy a few seconds to realized what happend before he ran after her, yelling something about 'unfair'. It was a funny view and kind of adorable. I probably would have smiled.
Cover art for Sunken Cities