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>"Hello, Anonymous. Can I spend the...
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You are currently reading a thread in /mlp/ - My Little Pony

Thread replies: 463
Thread images: 68
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>"Hello, Anonymous. Can I spend the night in your house, please? Only one night and in the morning I'll leave."
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Only if you dance with me...
"Jesus Christ, Twilight. What happened?"
>You motion for Twilight to enter
"Come on. I'll put on a pot of tea."
The bed is yours. I'll be on the floor if you need me.

Okay, I won't ask what happened, but you have to eat this bowl of eggs.
The fuck? Who told you where I live, bitch?
>"Anon, baby, who is it?"
Uh, nobody..fuckin jehovas an shit, I got it.
>'W-was that Principal Celestia?'
>Slam door
>inb4: abusive and drunk Shining.
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"I'll do it, if you dance for me"
>"I'm sorry, what?"
"Dance for me baby! Dance!"
>"Uh Anon? Can I jus-"
"Show me dem moves of yours if you wanna have a place to stay"
>"I, uh, I don't really know how to dance, so can you jus-"
"Then leave. I don't like people who don't have the grooves and flow in them"
>You slowly start closing the door
>"Wait, I'll do it"
>She began to dance, some tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she dance poorly
"If we end up having sex when I pretend to be really kind and caring and listening to you talk abotut what happened after i pried it out of you in the hopes of acting nice will get me laid?"

"And you need to let me nurse you back to health because that was just my though guy act and really I just want to nurse and pamper you like a mother car nurses her kittens, now come here and let me hug you"
>Sunset at the Stables spin-off
You really need to quit walking into so many doors Twilight.
Absolutely not. Fowl creature. You aren't even real.
She's not real but she is a bird? I dun geddit
>you look up from you lousy cardboard box fort,built in the alley between the meat processing plant and the insecticide factory.

"holy fuck you must be desperate."
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>Fowl creature.
Make yourself at home. I'll get some tea going while you wash up.
why did you come all the way to Detroit to just visit me for one night?
You know the deal Twilight, we've been through this before. You can stay any time, but you have to eat the eggs.
>like a mother car nurses her kittens

Mr car was a woman!
He has kittens too!
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Damn you!
Slazors dead

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>Fowl creature.
>Fowl creature
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>no velvet milf green
At least we have one green here.
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White knight bump.
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>No one write "check 'em"
This thread is truly kill.
Bump for feels.
It's really hard to believe that all white knight fedora tipers on /mlp/ is dead.
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"I told you not to join the boxing club"
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"Dance Twilight. DANCE THE DANCE OF LIFE!"
Fowl Creature
>Fowl creature
It's kinda cute.
Dude, what the fuck
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>fowl creature
>that trixie in the background

>Sunset at the Stables spin-off

My ears are burning
> Be Nicolas Cage
>hear knock on door
>I open the door even though it is 1:30 in the morning
>It's Twilight again
>"Hello Anonymous. C-can I send the night at your house? I'll be gone by the morning." She mumbles out with swollen lips from being punched
Uh, what the fuck happened?
>She looks down as a tear drops from her battered face
>I let the poor girl in before the rain outside could give her a cold.
Twilight, you know you're always welcome with the Cage.
>take seat on couch and get her a blanket to warm up
>"Thanks Mister Nicolas Cage"
> she then smiled sweetly, unknowingly letting me see her wrecked and punched teeth.
So....uh, need some tea?
>she nods yes

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>Fowl creature
But of course!
You got it

>I, Nicolas Cage, walk to the Cage kettle
>while boil some water, I look back to Twilight
>she's looking down gloomily again, obviously holding back tears
>I let the water get ready to boil and head to her
Twilight, what in the name of me happened?
>she looked up to my face, appears freely flowing, and her sobbing wildly
>"Oh god! It was so painful....so scary!"
>she nuzzled into my Nicolas Cagey shoulder, and even though the snot dripping from her nose was defying it, but I made an exception for her
Did....did someone rape you Twi?
>She stopped her sniffling for a second, and gave me sad eyes
>"It's.....hard to explain"
>le tea kettle blows as much as EQG
Twi, tell me about while I get you your tea
>she wipes the tears from her eyes like a little kid
>"uh huh" she says after a sniffle

What tea did Nicolas Cage make? What happened to Twilight? Tell me want you think!
Fuck it I'll write about Nicolas
Cage on my own thread then
No don't leave he made green tea but added sugar and twi was raped by a drunk shining
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Sure, Twilight!

But first you have to eat these eggs.
Slowpoke The drawfag here
i miss him so much...
Ok, here it is

>I, the great Cage, headed back carrying a little tray with two mugs of steamy tea, and placed them on the coffee table in front of the couch Twi rested on
>Twi picked up the mug with two hooves, and sipped it blissfully
>"...is this Green Tea?"
Yeah, what's wrong with that?
>"It has sugar in it..."
>Twilight lightly groaned
So, are you gonna tell what happened now, or are you feeling a it.....caged up....about it?
>"I'd rather you not make jokes while I do tell it
>I leaned back in my seat and folded my arms, and waited for to tell her story

>"I was visiting Princess Cadence and my brother in the Crystal Empire, we were going to just, you know, talk about princess stuff and I'd spend the weekend there....
>she then had a heavy sigh, looking down at her hooves dangling off the couch, her eyes pooling with sadness and unformed tears
It didn't go as planned, did it?
>"Does it ever?"
Then what went wrong?
>"At dinner, Cadence and him got a mad at each other, real mad....I never ever saw either of them so upset...."
>Seeing my friend like this was just heartbreaking. She just witnessed her brother's first blow up, something she never saw
So how did your face....you know....
>her lip trembled
>uh oh
>"I-I was told to let the them "sort themselves out" by a servant who led me out into the royal library to wait. I read for a while, b-but a the servant came back, and said Shining requested to see me."
>Wait, you don't think Shining actually....would he?
>"I w-walked into his room, a-nd was left alone by the servant with him. He was really mad, and drunk, and-"
>she stopped
>Twilight started to hiccup and gasp as tears fell from her perfect eyes and sobs came out of her mouth.
>"H-He grabbed m-m-my mane, and said something h-how "he always wanted to do this" and slammed me to the ground so my....th-thing was in the air!"
>My eyes widened in shock, I couldn't believe it...
>"He then held me down, and beat me, but forced himself on me....."
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Nope. Whatever potential you have on being a good or decent character will be wasted on being a rollerderby bitch.

You will be used only for slapstick humor and senseless posturing.

Fuck you for existing.

>choosing I'm not a robot
>post Transformers
>Human Twi
>rollerderby bitch

Twi....how long did he do it?
>"I think a few hours...until Cadence walked in"
>Great Cage! This was gonna cause quite a stir amongst Equestria.
What's going to happen to your brother?
>"I don't know--"
>I embraced quickly into a warm, Cage-filled hug
>"So I can stay I guess?"
Do I hate bees?
>"Glad it's a yes then"
>her crying was reduced greatly, but then you came onto the realization that you have nothing but a couch for her to sleep on

What does Nicholas Cage do?
Become the Spirit of Vengeance.
>What does Nicholas Cage do?
He'll act badly.
I'm typing this in third person because fuck it

>she looked up at him with dilated eyes
You really ok?
>"I actually liked it-"
>she slow fully closed her eyes and gently cried
>"I loved how he had me pinned down, and how his huge dick was just pounding into me like I was just there for his pleasure...."
>Cage couldn't believe what he was hearing
>he carried her to his bedroom and tucked her in
I promise Twilight.....
>he bursts into flames as Twilight looked in astonishment
>"Cage!? What's happening?!"
>a leather-clad flaming skull motorcyclist in his place spoke in a horrifying and unworldly voice
>he let out his well-known Cage laugh
>Ghost Rider then blew a whistle and a hellish motorcycle in flames bursted out of no where
>as he drove out of his house, leaving a trail of tiny and harmless fires, he gave her the peace sign with his hand
>"....thank you"
>Twilight then snuggled to sleep
Called it
Oh god...
I thought you were that one faggot from Dragon Age 2 for a second.
Dragon Age 2 a shit
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please tell me this isnt real....PLEASE!
Should I continue?
Why not?
>Cage was riding at incredible speeds, flames left a trail from his hell-cycle, and the flames on his skull were flickering around.
>He was cackling his notorious Nicolas Cage cackle as he was closing in on the Crystal Empire
Oh yeaaaah!
>He drove the the castle walls, an explosion killing a few guards.
>Cage was no longer on fire and he made his way stomping through the castle halls, looking for Shining Armor
>no luck so far
>Maybe if he could find Cadence, he could find him....or maybe, he should just keep searching

Wut do?
It is real, Anon, it has been posted in EQD, also, the staff confirmed it.
Become the pilot from Left Behind, then kamikaze a jet airliner into the palace to spite Shining for defiling his sister
Well, I'm not sure. Her skin looks more like green than purple.
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Just posting this here

Holy shit I remember that green
Thank you based mook
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Bump. Still waiting for write knight.
And that's why I never listen to /mlp/'s hype.

Because Hasbro treats EqD as a Monster High ripoff, down to the fact that they both have a rollerderby movie. Of course they had to shoehorn SciTwi to that concept!

I'll just take what few scraps of good there are from the movies and move on.
It's just me or beaten waifus are actually always cute?
Bump. I hope I'll have time to write a green later.

>"Hey Twilight, let's play doctor!"
"Let me guess, another one of your science experiments went awry and you have to stay here while they decontaminate your place, right?"
>"B-but muh science!"
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>Delicious, delicious tears
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>I hope I'll have time to write a green later.
I believe in you, Anon.
No >.>
i miss him...any news on him?
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Ok screw it.

>U B Anonymous.
>No really, that's your name. Two initials and that word.
>Your parents: insane people.

>You're boneless on the couch, staring at the TV (hey - MST3K binge on Netflix! Woot!) when the doorbell rings.
>Status check: Sober, mostly. Pants: yes.
>You are clear to answer the door.
>Outside: That science chick from high school. Geez. What was her name? Three bottles of cider should not make this a difficult question.
>"Hello, Anonymous."
"Oh HI..."
"What's up... and why do you look like you got hit with ... stuff?"

>Twilight - that's her name, tries to push some of her hair back in place and wipe the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her lab coat.
>"Can I spend the night in your house, please? Only one night and in the morning I'll leave."
>Staring blankly at her gives you a chance to take full inventory. Glasses: one lens cracked. Bruises.

"Uh. Sure. Hey."
>You do the "enter freely and of your own free will" gesture and let Twilight into your craptastic little apartment. She walks in and gives it the once-over. Doesn't take much time.
>"Small, but functional."
>She's looking at the apartment, not your pants. Stop that.
"Mi casa es... something else in Spanish."
>Remember that SMOOTH comment earlier? Yeah strike that.
>"Su casa. Gracias, Senior Anonymous."
>She speaks Spanish. Of COURSE she does.
>While you're dealing with the fact that she's still way smarter than you, you start taking inventory for crash space.
"Uh... okay. Bathroom's over there. There's clean towels in the cabinet. Um... Hang on..."
>You walk the ten steps from the "living room" to the "bedroom" and get a blanket and spare pillow out of the closet.
>In a fit of sudden hygiene you also get the clean sheets out of the closet.
"So we can make up the couch into a bed and -"
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>Twilight's in one of the two chairs by the little inbred table they called a 'bistro' table in catalogs (and you called 'hey it's a table by the side of the road' that one time you were coming back from some party).
>Her glasses are on the table, her elbows are on the table, and her face is in her hands.
>Oh crap. Is she... crying?

>You drop all the linens on the couch and try to make noises concerned humans might make.
"Twi? Are you..."

>She sighs. Huge sigh. Big, huge, woman-not-telling-you-what's-wrong sigh.
>"I'm fine..." She comes up for air and looks at you across the hubcap-sized table. "I *will* be fine. I had a ... setback and need some time to recoup." She reaches into her lab coat for something. "I know this is an imposition, so I'll be happy to pay-"
"Oh no, that won't be nec-"
>What are you saying, jackass?
>"No, I insist. At least let me pay for dinner."
"Well, okay. But don't expect me to put out."
>One day, you are going to have to get some kind of treatment for whatever makes you say shit like that.

>Thankfullty, she laughs, a very small amount. A laugh just this side of someone saying the word "hah".
>"I assure you, your virtue is safe with me."
>She keeps trying to push this one lock of hair back behind her ear.
>Why are you noticing that anyway?
"Okay. Just so I know your intentions are honorable."
>Seriously. You and Spider-Man. Tourettes.
"So, if you want to clean up, everything in the bathroom is reasonably clean."
>She looks off in that direction. "Through your bedroom?"
>You shrug.
"Place was built in the 80s. They didn't care if you had to break into someone's bedroom to use the john."
>She shakes her hand and says - yes says - "Tsk." You sit down as she stands up and shrugs off her lab coat. The rest of the stuff she's wearing looks worse for wear too. You're motivated to get up again.
"Hang on..."
>You break the record for the 3 meter dash to the bedroom and find some clean sweats event.
"Here. They'll be loose..."
We'll begin negotiations at one week my waifu princess alicorn Twilight Sparkle.

>Twi looks are the bundle of stuff in your hands, then at you.
>"More than a little. I take it the waistband is a drawstring?"
"... should be."
>She takes your offered clothes and heads into your bedroom muttering something about "at least I can hand wash my -" >click< the door closes. And latches. And locks.
>You didn't even know that door had a lock.

>No you are not going to go check it.
>You sit there with MST3K on pause and listen to a woman you barely know wandering around on the other side of the bedroom door.

>Yeah, not creepy at ALL, dude.
>Click - WHUMMMMMMM - that'd be the exhaust fan. Why's she turning *that* on?
>You hear water start up and some part of your brain remembers that exhaust fans are really intended to move hot steamy air out of enclosed spaces, not just save lives after a trip to Taco Cabana.
>You hear the shower curtain slide a couple times (probably open - closed)

>That's when you go to - just because you're curious and didn't think it had one, mind - check the bedroom door to see if it's locked.
>Nope. Not locked.
>Not locked between you and the (we assume) naked woman showering in your bathroom right now.

>Gonads, this is Brain - Don't you even think about it
>Gonads - we know where the ice pack is and we're not afraid to use it.
>Gonads - remember the vacuum cleaner incident?
>Gonads silently protesting, you haul your pervy ass back to the couch and resolutely watch Joel and the Bots.
>You're actually singing "THEY TRIIIED TO KILL ME WITH A FORK-LIIIFT! OLE!" when the water stops.


Ok. Continue?
(yes it's mook)
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>Ok. Continue?
Yes, based mook.

>Internally, you roll for save vs megaperv.
>Internally, the dice roll under the couch.
>Internally, dammit.
>You stay on the couch, not thinking about naked-steamy-from-shower-female-in-apartment... the first one you've had in this place... like... EVER.
>In this apartment.
>You've *seen* naked females before. In person, even!
>So it's not like you're imagining what she'd look like outside of that pants suit and lab coat and with her hair all wet and loose and
>If she comes out that door RIGHT NOW and sees you with a pillow on your groin this is so very not going to end well.

>You hit 'play' and distract yourself with the many names of that one guy - Punch Rockgroin - Brute Squatthrust - while you very deliberately do NOT listen for sounds of wet naked girl toweling herself off.
>You hear the hairdryer your mom gave you two years ago - which you never use - running.
>You envision naked blow-dried hair Twilight
>You beat yourself in the face with a couch cushion to make that stop. Unsuccessfully.
>The blow drier stops. The vent fan stops, and you try and arrange everything to give no sign of the epic hormonal argument you just had with yourself. Oh look - ROCK CLIMBING on MST3K! HA!

>You really had no idea the walls in this place were so friggin' thin and not-soundproof.
>You could just be imagining things, rather than hearing her put your sweat pants on.
>Why is the sink running?
>Why is the blowdrier running again?
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He still browses here, I know it. He took off his trip and stopped writing because he didn't feel like it. And that's really making me upset

>You get up, grab your second-to-last bottle of cider out of the fridge, open it and drain half of it just standing there looking through the little pass-through into what they laughingly call 'your living room' in the brochure. Joel, you scamp.
>That seems to get the pervy part of your brain to settle down for a bit.
>You barely notice when Twi opens the door again and pads out wearing, yep, your sweats and the least appalling t shirt you have.
>She blinks around owlishly, then walks over to your 'table' - right past you so you can see her through that pass-through, well enough to see that she didn't dry herself off completely and that t-shirt is clinging to ... bits...
>You're trying to kill THAT thought off with the rest of the cider when she says your name.

>EPIC SPIT TAKE, performed by U B Anonymous, mostly into the sink.
"HRARGHLAHRHGLHGHH... *cough*... I'm in the kitchen."
>"Oh!" She turns and sees you hunkered down over the sink trying to get cider out of your nostrils. "Thank you. I feel much better. Do you have a washer and drier in the apartment?"
>You explain, in between fits of alcohol-laced coughing and nose-blowing that you don't. The complex has a laundry room and you still have a stack of pesos from that one time you went... so she can use that in the morning if she wants to.
>When you come up for air that's not mostly cider, you see she's got her hair pulled back and her glasses on again, but the effect is kinda different when she's wearing ... your clothing.
>You stare at her like an idiot for a few breaths.
>"I think I might do that, Anonymous." She looks down at herself. "I offered to buy dinner but I don't think I'm dressed to go out right now... would it be all right if we ordered something in?"
>Modern Man that you are, you have a drawer full of fliers from everywhere you eat from. You shuffle out the most appalling options and put those away, handing the rest through the pass-through to Twi.

>While she's distracted with the menus (Cheap Chinese, Cheap Mexican, Cheap Sandwich, Cheap German, Cheap Hungarian... see a pattern here?) You emerge from the kitchen with your last full bottle of cider and the remains of what you inhaled.
>Twi parks herself at the table and pulls a cell phone from another pocket of her lab coat.
>How many pockets *does* this thing have anyway?
>"So... How about..." she names the most expensive place in the stack of fliers.
>The one you've never called, but hung onto because it's all colorful and Anonymouses are drawn to bright colorful things.
"Sure. Um. I've never eaten there -"
>"I have. They're quite good. Shall I order? Do you have any food allergies or issues?"
>Trap detected?
"I do my best not to eat llama."
>"I think that will be easily avoided, Anony..." she sighs and looks up at you over her glasses. "Anonymous is a very unusual name."
"Says the one with the last name 'Sparkle'."
>She nods and looks off somewhere, "Grandparents changed it from something profoundly slavic. Lots of 's' and 'k' sounds. But your point is made."
"Look - since I'm calling you 'Twi' - I can still call you that, right? You're not going to hit me?"
>She nods. Phew.
"How about you call me 'Non'. That's what my friends call me. Assuming I have any."
>She laughs a little and shakes her head. "Fair enough... 'Non'. At least no one calls you 'Moose' any more?"

>"Moose". Because when you're a big, awkward, blocky doofus and your name has the letters 'mus' in it...

"Yeah, thank God. So what are you thinking about ordering?"
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>not anon

what have you done!?
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>"Grandparents changed it from something profoundly slavic. Lots of 's' and 'k' sounds.
Polish Twalot?
nice try
Trust me.

>Twi, bless her, talks you through the stuff you can't pronounce and puts together a pretty bitchin' delivery meal.
>She even has her wallet and money and stuff since that was all in her coat.
>This makes you even more curious as to what the heck happened to make her look up someone she sorta barely knew in high school looking for a place to crash.
>Waiting on the food, you attempt light conversation.
"So.. Twi... if you don't mind my asking... what exactly ha-"
>"MST3K? I haven't watched that since..."
>She lunges for the remote and presses 'play' and the rest of your question is drowed out by "THICK MCLARGEHUGE! BOB JOHNSON! ... wait.."
>You finally finish the rest of the cider in your hand and flop a safe yet companionable distance from Twi on the couch."
>Three more times you try to ask her what happened.
>Three more times she's distracted by the TV. Ok, the third time it was TV and the food showing up so...

>This food is... really good.
>Some kind of weird asian / mexican fusion thing.
>The kind of stuff you see hipsters rave about on Food Network when you're drunk enough to watch Food Network.
>Korean BBQ street tacos and that kind of thing.
>She puts away a lot more food than someone her size should be putting away. You think. Maybe.
>Maybe she's just not worrying about eating like a human being in front of a guy. You know, like the last three dates you had.
>A year ago.
>Down, dammit.
>"Fusion" food, some cider and much of the diet cola she ordered a 3 liter bottle of later, you're both full and sprawly on the couch.
>Still watching MST3K reruns on Netflix.
>She snorts when she laughs. Not enough to be appaling. Enough to be kinda cute.
>You didn't remember that from school.
>But school was a few years ago, wasn't it?

>A few years ago, and a couple years to get an Associates degree that you're not doing much with.
>And a job that pays the bills but, eh. Moving stuff.
>And here's this person you barely knew showing up at *your* apartment - had she ever been here before?
>How the heck did she even know where you *live*, anyway?
>And you're watching TV with her and with a whole buttload of questions to ask...
"Twi - can I ask..."

>Awkward pause is awkward.
>Like, real awkward.
>You're trying not to look blankly at her because, well, awkward > 9000, but you have to because she's not answering you.
>You look.
>She's not answering you because she's curled up into the corner of the couch, asleep.
>With the patience and caution of a bomb disposal technician, you get her glasses off and, folded, onto the planks-on-cinder-blocks 'coffee table'.
>With even more patience and caution, you get the blanket around her, the pillow nearby, the TV off, and your happy ass to your bedroom, turning off lights and TV on the way.

>You haven't gone to bed wearing most of your clothing in like, forever, but the bathroom is through your bedroom door and you have a guest and...

>So you lie in bed and stare at the smoke detector light for about an eternity until you fall asleep.
>I want to bully Twilight Sparkle
>Implying Twilight burned down her home
>Implying Twilight wasn't raped
>Implying Twilight thinks you wouldn't rape her
>Implying /mlp/ wouldn't have writefags
You can stay in my house whatever you like.

Plus you'll have the facilities too!
Now this, is a fowl creature.
>implying that this isn't Walter White's House

I have some idea where I'm going but not how I'm going to get there. Expect a buncha feels before anything sexier than 'zomg a girl in my apartment' happens.
More tomorrow or maybe later tonight if there's time, assuming anybody WANTS more.
- mook
sure,pretty good so far,although im half expecting something completely unexpected to happen for some reason.




Please continue this soonish, you're fantastic and Space Mutiny is one of my favorites
I like this. Like, a lot.
Keep going you glorious friend.
Guess I can't do spoilers from my phone.
Turns out you can.
Also page 9 bump.
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>tfw Slazors is never coming back


You sir, have good taste.

I try, man, I try.
that's too bad, he inspired me to start writing, and to hear that he doesn't want to do it anymore just cause, damn that's disheartening
this makes me feel a feel anon...

maybe one last "waiting for slazors" thread could get his attention?
Give me more please, don't let this die.
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This is a rhetorical question?
YES, FEELS i was expecting this to happend
my ready is body
Eagerly awaiting the continuation of this.
I like this thread. Maybe it's just me, but I haven;t seen much SciTwi content, so this is nice.
>hello anonymous
>thanks mister nicolas cage
Muh nigga. SciTwi is perfect Twi.

What are your favorite MST3K episodes?
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he will come back one day I can feel it
nice dubs btw

>U. B. Anonymous.
>Weren't you going to change your name to something normal when you turned 18?

>Anyway, light is trickling in from those cheap Venetian blinds they put in apartments and you're awake.
>Awake and still mostly dressed.
>Mostly dressed on account of the woman you barely knew from high school showing up out of the blue and asking if she could crash on your couch.
>Who is, by the way, still asleep on your couch if the noises of breathing and occasional snoring are any indication.

>You take a moment to recoup and try to figure out what should happen next.
>That's when you hear sudden movement in the living room and a scream.
>You get up, really fast, on the wrong side of the bed. The side next to the wall.
>You hit the wall, fall back onto the bed, and scramble like a motherfucker to the right side and take the eight steps to the living room

>where Twi - still in your t shirt and sweats, is standing up on your couch clutching a blanket.

>She screams again then catches herself. She squints a little at you - her glasses aren't on the coffee table (ok, pile of cinder blocks and planks) so she probably can't see well.
"Twi - it's Non, remember? You came here last night?"
>She blinks a few times, shakes her head, then visibly calms herself. "Oh. Yes. Right. I'm sorry, Anony- Non. I forgot where I was and when I woke up... " she goes from standing on the couch to sitting curled up in a ball in one motion.
>You do your best 'not a creepy stalker, honest' impression, then stop. It's your place, after all.
>Instead, you just walk over and sorta perch on the other side of the couch.
"Yeah... you're in my apartment - you came over last night and asked if you could stay here tonight. And you bought dinner, but I didn't put out."
>That gets a little snort from her. Cute.
>"After yesterday, sex was the last thing on my mind." If she was wearing her glasses, you'd call that look 'Classic Twi'.
>Speaking of which, where are her glasses?

>One thing you *did* pick up in college was 'how to recover from a really badly-advised night', which includes 'where the fuck are my keys/wallet/underwear/etc?' skills.
"Hang on. I think you might have kicked your glasses somewhere..."
>She sighs, "And the one time you really need to find your glasses is when you're not wearing them, yes. I'll be right here."
>You see her wrap herself a little tighter in that blanket while you start the systematic hunt for her glasses. Big black frame beasts like that shouldn't be too hard to fin-
>Apparently she kicked them all the way across the room and into the chipboard and glass monstrosity that's holding up your TV.
>(Another 'side of the curb' find)
>Things... don't look good for these frames.

"Twi... you know how you had a crack in one lens when you showed up?"
>She nods. You hold her glasses out and, squinting slightly, she takes them.
>You stand a respectful distance back while she looks them over, very closely. They're a mess.
>"Right lens is done for. Nose piece gone... left temple hinge is half-off. These are totaled."

"Do you have a spare?"
>"Yes. In my offi-" she catches herself. "Maybe, in ..."
>Her glasses are shaking. That's because her hand is shaking. And that's because she's shaking.
>You see her do that 'visibly getting control of herself' thing again. Eyes close, straightening her back, deep breath in slow and out slow.
>"I may have a spare pare in ... the building where I work. But I can't drive there from here without ... my glasses."
>You nod.
"Been there. Done that. I can give you a ride if you can tell me where it is."
>She looks like she's thinking it over for longer than you'd think necessary, then she nods.
>"All right. I'll need to change... which means I need to go back to my apart...ment..." that thought peters out and her head drops.
>This, by the way, makes that funky multi-colored hair sort of curtain around her. Like she's hiding behind it.
>You file that thought away.
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so i google´d Mr car after reading this

needless to say i was not disappointed

Slazors was a decidedly sub-par writer who did nothing but pander to his readers.

"So I'll drive you there then drive you to work. I don't have anything lined up today."
>Yeah not creepy at all, right? Thankfully she doesn't take it as creepy.
>"Thank you, Non, I appreciate that. Then you can get on with your life and I'll... do the same."
>She seems really intent on that 'get out of your hair' thing.
>This, naturally, spikes the ol' Anonymous Chevalier Blanc response. You feel yourself standing straighter but... don't do the rest of what you want to do - just now.
"Okay. If you want first run at the bathroom, I'll see what I have for breakfast. Probably Pop Tarts.
>She uncoils herself from the blanket and, carefully, makes her way around the couch, "That would be fine."
"Want yours toasted?"
>"You eat them *raw*?"
"They're not raw - they're already baked.... so you want yours toasted."
"Okay. We can do that."

>Surprisingly, she's back out of the bathroom before the toaster pops up.
>You serve her two cherry poptarts on a plate and everything, with the last of the surprisingly not-spoiled milk.
>Meanwhile, you eat yours right out the wrapper like a god damn barbarian.
>Your apartment, your pop tarts.
"I'm gnngf g chbng..."
>Swallow, doofus.
"I'm gonna go change. If you want to do that too, just knock on the door to let me know it's all clear."
>She shakes her head. "I'll ... change in the apartment. I just need to collect my coat and things...
>You close the door to your bedroom.
>Uh. Complicated reasons.
>Anyway, you're dressed - jeans, t-shirt, boat shoes, no socks - and ready to roll and she's sitting at your little table with her coat over your sweats and t shirt, holding her ruined specs.
"Ready to go?"
Feels incoming.

>For someone who can barely see, she does a good job of giving directions.
>She's memorized all the cross-streets and even how many lights between each turn.
>You shouldn't be surprised - based on your sketchy memories of her in high school - but you are.
>"I have an eidetic memory, Non... Once I see something," she taps her temple, "It's filed away. I just have to remember how to find it."
>"Sometimes it's that's not a good thing... turn left at the next light and be careful - the light changes faster than average."
>A few more turns like that and you're at an entirely nondescript apartment complex.
>Even the name of it sounds like they nailed together three words that suggested living big and then gave up.
>Twilight leads you to her door - up two flights of stairs
>(hello, knees!)
>She fishes a key ring big enough to stun a yak from yet another lab coat pocket, then stops.
>She turns and looks at you, blinking.
>"Non... Anony... Anon." Anon? "Good compromise," she mutters.
>Ok, you'll accept that.
>"Anon... can you... look in there for me? Just, reach in, turn on the lights and let me know..."
>You shrug, then say "sure" because you have no idea if she saw you shrug or not.
>She steps to the side, you open the door and find a light switch.

>Her apartment is trashed.
>Completely and utterly trashed.

... aaand on THAT note, I'mma take a break.
Got to do some adult responsible stuff, but I'll have more to post this afternoon.

Hope for moar intensifies.jpg
>You whistle.
>From outside, Twi asks, "What?"
"Twilight... you may not want to go in there. Looks like someone tossed it -"
>She shoulders you aside, almost trips over what was probably a nice little table near the door, and comes to a dead halt next to the thoroughly ripped-apart couch.
>She makes a slow circle, holding her busted up glasses to her face.
>"No no no no no no"
>She's not crying or moaning. More like saying 'this is wrong' over and over.
>when she makes the full circle, she faces you again and speaks softly and, surprisingly, calmly.
>"Anonymous... there should be a baseball bat in the little closet next to the door. Please get it."

>You open the little door and -
"No bat, Twi."
>"Can you please look under the couch?"
>You carefully nudge aside torn out stuffing and random papers, shuffling to the couch.
>Underneath: a bat. You pull it out.
>"Thank you. Can you please come with me to the bedroom, and would you be willing to look in there first and hit anything that isn't you or I?"
>Chevalier Blanc mode: Engaged.
>Rather pissed off Chevalier Blanc. You may not know Twi that well, but no one should get their place trashed like this.
>Holding the bat like an untrained samurai warrior (Toshishio Mifune be with me now) you shuffle through the debris to the door she indicates.
>You kick the door open. Ok, it was already sort of open but you kick it anyway.
>The bedroom fared about as well as the living room.
>Someone went so far as to toss clothing everywhere, and put long cuts into the mattress looking for something.
>Twi comes in behind you - quiet enough that you almost take a swing at her, but don't. Thank god.
>"Can you... check the closet, please?" She's awful calm for someone who's place has been, well, violated.
>You nudge the sliding doors open. Poke around with the bat.
>On general principles you poke around under the bed too. Have to push some dresser drawers out of the way to do it.

"All clear, I think."
>She leans against the wall, glasses dangling from one hand.
>"I think so too. They wouldn't have found - I don't think they found what they were looking for."
>So many things she's not saying.
>"Can you... go into the kitchen and see if there are any grocery bags that haven't been shredded. I need to pull some things together."

>Bat in hand, you head to the kitchen, then stop.
>Bathroom door.
>Kick - HA!
>Door bounces right back into your face. Ow.
>You push the door open, turn the light on.
>Yep. It's a mess.
>You'll.. just leave that there. No sense in rummaging through, among other things, feminine hygiene products. No.
(sorry for the double-posts. No clue what that's happening. Maybe something screwy with a firewall somewhere. 8 proxies etc.)
Wow /b/ would be jealous of all these gets
(weirdness. Chrome's showing double-posts. IE - single posts. Anyway. More words!)

>You're back in the kitchen finding viable plastic grocery bags when the AC goes off and you hear Twi sobbing in the bedroom.
>Not very loud. The only reason you know it's crying is the cadence of breathing in and breathing out.
>This is the crying of someone who really does not want anyone hear her doing that.
>You're really conflicted here. Try to help or give her space?
>You compromise by being louder and clumsier than usual on the way back to the bedroom. Thump bump thump
>By the time you get there, she's composed. Mostly. Red eyes don't wipe away as easily as tears.
>She has a stack of clothes - folded neatly - on the least messed up corner of the bed. She's sitting on the second least messed up corner.
>She looks up at you.
>You lean the bat against the wall and walk over like the big oaf you are.
>You make a arms-out gesture at the mess.
"Twilight - uh - listen... I know this isn't my-"
>"You're right. It isn't."
"On the other hand - no, I'm gonna finish this - *this* -"
>You gesture at the mess.
"Pretty sure this isn't normal. So... uh..."
>She looks up at you. "Your point?"
"My point, and I *do* have one... is that I'd like to have some idea what I'm involved in now and what I can do to help."
>She makes a face, a sort of awkward, uncomforable frown thing.
>"This isn't your problem, it's mine. I needed -"
"Which leads me to wondering why you looked up someone you haven't seen in - what, four years? Five? - asking for a place to sleep. And now this..."
>It's hard to do 'righteously indignant' when the person you're talking to is sitting in the ruins of her apartment looking like she might fall apart any second now.
>You sigh and take a knee in front of her. (ow. knees.)
"Twi - let's get you and whatever you need out of here and ... somewhere else so ..."
>"So you can ask me more questions?"
"You *did* pay for dinner, but I think this may be a bit more than 'paying for dinner' territory."
>She shakes her head a little, looking off toward the closet. "True. All right. Bags, please?"
>Oh yeah the grocery bags. You're still holding those.
>You hand them over.
>You know that 'handing something to someone - their fingers touch briefly' bullshit you see in those Japanese cartoons?
>Yeah that happens.
>It's... unexpectedly effective.

>You stand there and dammit while she's packing her clothing into the bags.
>You stand outside the closed bedroom door and dammit while she's changing into other clothing.
>You dammit as she rummages in the bathroom for... things.
>You pretty much dammit your way out the door - locking it (oh the irony) on the way back to your car
>The fact that your knees are complaining aids in the dammiting all the way down two flights of stairs.
>Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
>"So, are you still going take me to my office, Anon?"
>Wuh oh yeah.
"Twi... it might be a good idea to take your stuff ...
"... take your stuff back to my place before we go to your office. Until you can find somewhere and call the cops and -"
>"I do not think I should call the police... just yet."
>"But yes, if you could take me back to your apartment, I'd appreciate a place to keep things that is... less... insecure."
dont do it mate
>All the way back to your place, you do not ask any questions.
>It takes a pretty significant effort of will, but you manage it.
>After this you are getting so totally and utterly drunk. Drunk enough to call in "hopelessly stupid" to work for two days.
>The only reason you can do that is that your boss did it once in a mistaken reply-all to an email.
>You glance over at Twi.
>She's wearing... practically the exact same outfit as yesterday, only cleaner.
>You absently remember that she had lots of very similar pants and shirts and such strewn around.
>Thinking about this almost makes you miss the turn into your apartment parking lot.
>You're pretty sure she didn't notice.

>Back at your crappy little apartment, you carry in four bags of Twi stuff
>Of course the bag with PADS in it is the one you notice first. Ngah.
>You set everything down by the little table and lean against the couch and give Twilight a look, which she's probably missing because no glasses.

"So... about ... everything..."
>She shrugs her shoulders under the lab coat. "It's very... complicated."
"Strangers trashing your room complicated?"
"Wanting someone to escort you to your office complicated?"
>"... yes."
"And if I do that, will you give me some idea *how* complicated all this stuff is?"
>She takes more time to answer that than you expected. Like she's really, seriously thinking about it.
>After another awkward pause to end all awkward pauses... "I think I can tell you, but... I would prefer we talk about it... somewhere that's not someone's home. How about I buy lunch after we go get my spare glasses?
"Works for me."

aaand another break.
Oh hey - I have a pastebin for this:

this is getting more interesting by the post
take your well deserved break and then come back glorious writefriend
You are doing gods werk, writefag.
No. You should have demanded that you let me stay and ordered me to make your stay comfortable. Fuck off you submissive bitch.
>You drive Twi to her office - it's actually in a big light industrial complex with signs that have a lot of swooshes and stuff in their logos.
>Twi's company's building has three nondescript letters, the word "Consultants" and a swoosh on the sign.
>Also, a couple of cop cars.
>With more sense than you'd give yourself, you slow down and park in the next lot over rather than roll right up on things.
>Twi looks through her wrecked glasses at the office building, and the cop cars. "Mn."
"That... does not look good."
>She nods. "No. No it does not. But. My glasses are in there and per-*haps* I can get..."

>You are really getting tired of hearing her not end sentences.
>"There are just some things I don't want to burden you with unnecessarily, Anon."
>Wait, were you talking to yourself?
>"Yes, and you still are."
>"Cursing won't achieve anything. I don't want to complicate *your* life further just because *my* life is compli-"
"Lunch. Talking. Glasses first, though."
>She nods. "Yes." She runs her hands over her hair and tries to sinch up the ponytail - a gesture you find oddly cute - before she climbs out of your little hatchback.
>"I should be back in a few minutes. If I'm going to be delayed, I'll call you and let you know."
>You *did* bring your phone with you right?
>You absently thump your pants leg. Phone. Check. You haul that out and make sure it's on, has a charge, and isn't on 'silent'.
"Okay. Mission control standing by."
>"I don't remember you being this much of a smart-ass," she says and walks away before you can say something else.
"That... does not look good."
>She nods. "No. No it does not. But. My glasses are in there and per-*haps* I can get..."
>You are really getting tired of hearing her not end sentences.
>"There are just some things I don't want to burden you with unnecessarily, Anon."
>Wait, were you talking to yourself?
>"Yes, and you still are."
>"Cursing won't achieve anything. I don't want to complicate *your* life further just because *my* life is compli-"

this confuses me
Eh, maybe.

Polok/Kraut fag here, our last names tend to end in
Damn, I wish I could write like this. I feel like the past two weeks have seen an increase in good writing, in a few threads.
You know green is often used to represent Anon's thoughts, right? Anon was saying his thoughts out loud and SciTwi heard him.
>You really, really loathe waiting in a car for other people.
>You really, really, REALLY loathe waiting in a car for someone whom you barely know and not knowing if they're even going to come back out.

>Too many flashbacks of being one of the only guys with a car - even a little inbred hatchback - in your peer group.
>But wait you do. Looking at your phone every 30 seconds.
>You look up on "checking my phone" number 768 to see Twi talking to a cop and a guy in a suit over by the entrance.
>She's wearing a non-wrecked pair of glasses, so that's something, at least.
>After a few moments, and lots of nodding, Twi comes back to the car, walking with purpose and, you think, confidence.

>"That went better than expected," she says, plunking into the car after you remember to unlock the door.
>She has a decidedly overstuffed bag with her - one she didn't have on the way out.


>"If you'll drive us to O'Brien's, I'll explain as much of this as I can."
>Fortunately you know the place. Irish pub run by an Argentine family. Weird, but it works.
>Just drive, she said. So you drive.

>It's early enough in the day that you have the place more or less to yourselves. Which is good.
>Orders are taken and once the server leaves, you give Twi a long, long look.
"Can you... please... tell me... what the hell is going on?"
>Drinks arrive. Conversation stops until the server leaves again.
>"I... can try, Anon. I'm still trying to figure out some things myself."

>You get outside of half your drink - just soda for now - and stare at her expectantly.

"How about you start with 'How come you showed up at my doorstep looking like hell last night out of nowhere?'"
>She takes a long sip of her drink - probably iced tea - and sighs.
>"Yes. That... is a good place to start. I'm afraid it will take some explanation to get to *that* explanation, however..."
"I have time."

>She leans back in her chair and looks up, then squares her shoulders and looks levelly at you.
>"Two months ago I was contacted by someone we both went to school with - Thomas Gentry."
>"You may have known him as, um, 'Flash'?"
>'Flash' Gentry. Oh god. There's a name you haven't thought of in years.
"Flash Sentry - they mistyped his name on one track meet program and it stuck. Yeah. Athlete and rock god, according to reports."
>"Yes. We didn't know each other very well in school, so when he called me - he said he got my number from the alumnus association and was doing some fundraising - I didn't think much of it."
>If you think about it, you can see 'Flash' (even *he* called himself that) in your mind's eye. Spiked hair and all.
>What. A. Douche.
>"We agreed to meet socially for a meal - much like this - and after I wrote a check to the alumni association we started catching up with each other's lives and... dating."
>Oh. Oh ho.
>"A month along he began asking me about things specific to the research I do for the company I work for... very specific questions, the kind someone who did not work in high-energy research might not even know how to form, nevermind understand the answers to."
>She takes another long drink and looks down at the table, shaking her head.
>"It took me another week and some research of my own to find out that he was working for a VC firm that had ties to another high-energy research firm... one of our direct competitors. He was dating me so he could pick my brain about one of our pet projects - something that could seriously impact... well... everything."
>Yep. A douche.
"Corporate espionage, huh?"
>She says "Yes." with far more venom than you'd expect. "I started noticing that things were moved around - notebooks, things open to different pages than where I left them..." she looks at you and taps her temple, "Eidetic memory. I *know* when someone has been messing with my things... his questions kept getting more and more specific... he'd meet me for dates at my office rather than meeting at the place we were going to... and last night, on the way out to the parking lot, two people tried, unsuccessfully I should add, to mug me."
>You whistle.
"That would explain..."
>"My disheveled state, yes. One of the things I remember is _Grays'_Anatomy_ and the very delicate structure of ankles and kneecaps. I was able to get into my car and drive away, but I didn't feel safe driving home - the attack in the parking lot was the last piece of evidence I needed to support my suspicions."

>Your turn to take a drink and a pause for your lunches to arrive.
>Usually you'd leap right into yours - Colcannon and soda bread and a meat pie worth assaulting people for - but this story's distracting you. Twi isn't exactly wolfing down her complicated salad, either.

"So how did you wind up at my place?"
>"IF I was being stalked - and I'm using that word in the dictionary sense - I didn't feel safe going to any of my usual places by myself. I don't know how many people ... whoever it is ... has out there looking for me. I made a few phone calls and tried to locate someone I knew but not knew well, with the theory that they were less likely to be on the 'watch list' and already being spied upon."
>"Your was the fifth name on my list, and the only one both living in town and at home last night. I consider myself very lucky that you were home."

>So do you, now that you think about it.
>Well, okay, not just the 'hey girl in apartment!' thing. Considering what happened at *her* apartment and...
oooh ok, now i see it, that fucked with my brain

"Hey - what was the deal with the cops outside your office?"

>She takes another sip of her tea and gives you a look. "Apparently, after they were unsuccessful at taking *me*, they - whoever *they* are - tried breaking into the building where I work. The were not successful."
"Ah. Alarm system?"
>"Creative alarm system. It sounds like explosions, screaming, and crying babies. At
>You whistle.
"Really creative."
>She nods. "Hard to ignore that when it's blaring at 140 dBSPL at 200 Pa."
"Dee bee ess pee wha?"
>"Decibels of soound pressure - and -" when she sees you start to ask, "Pa is sound pressure. That's just above the threshold of pain for most people."
"So you deafended them with SCIENCE!"
>"Could you please not make that gesture when you say 'science'?" I think you scared the server.
"Sorry. I've waited to do that for years. So... anyway.."
>"Anyway, they didn't get too far into the building. I suppose that's why they - I'm only speculating it's the same people - went to my apartment and ... did what they did there. They were looking for notes and data."
"Notes and data. Okay. Notes and data... for what?

>So far, Twi's been forthcoming, but she looks like she's stalling here.
>Stalling, or trying to figure out how to translate what she's thinking into Anon-friendly terms.
>oh stop that.
>You're reasonably smart.
>And you watch a lot of science TV stuff.
>Science looks like explosions, usually.
"So... notes? Data? Thing?"

>She runs her hand through her ponytail and appears to come to a decision.
>"Notes on research I've been carrying out since the year before I came to your high school, Anonymous. There's something... odd about that time, and that place, and there's a problem."
"A problem?"
>"The problem is, Anonymous... I may not, precisely, exist."

>You stare at her for a good long time.
>You don't blink much.
>You very slowly and deliberately reach out and poke Twilight in her white-coated shoulder.
>She looks down at your finger and makes a little 'oof' sound.
>You stare at her some more.

>"What was that for?"
"Just checking to see if I'm having a 'Fight Club' moment."
>She shakes her head, "No, you're not having a paranoid schzophrenic episode. I'm here, but...
"But you may not preceisely exist."
>"I may not exist, precisely. Anonymous, I have reason to believe there is, or was, another 'Twilight Sparkle' out there somewhere, and she appeared to the same high school you and I went to, at least for a brief period. Probably before you went there, too."

>Lacking anything intelligent or constructive to say, you decide this is the moment to tear into the food.
>Thankfully, so does she.

Ok that was 'appeared to attend' and not 'appeared to' and I've fixed that in the pastebin.

BIN OF PASTE: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

Damn this has been a talky bit. Oof.
more words, danger, and other stuff later tonight or tomorrow
- mook
Likin' the green man.
what is it about a show about happy cartoon horses that leads people to write some of the best amateur fiction I've read?
Great green mook, good work.
Not really surprising for Deutschland, butPolen too?

Indeed, a lot of writefags are coming through, both veterans and new talents. Genuinely glad to see this much content flowing.
It was a poor hitler joke, but for kraut fags, many names, at least in the us, end in er.

The root of the end varies by region to region due do which families immigrated first and where in germany they were from.

For poloks, its fucking insane. Growing up in Wisconsin, I met a girl in highschool who shared my same last name, never met her in my life before that. Not to mention the dozen other people I've met who shared a name or were related. Hell, I've met a distant cousin who traced his heritage back to the same family of immigrants that came to Wisconsin.

But my family tree is bloody and hilarious.

Would you believe me if I were to say I have at least 3 great grandfathers who fought on all different sides of WW2 AND my family may actually be related to Hitler through Eva's side of the family? One of my cousins let it slip as he was doing a complete mapping of our family heritage but he's absolutely refused to go the mile and find out for sure.

Funny considering one of and my favorite grand pappy wrote a diary detailing his tour de la pari when he landed on Normandy and marched his way through Krautland, killing Nazi shits. Which was also published.

And no, this is not /pol/ bragging, The only respite I have from the knowledge of knowing for sure, that I had Nazi relatives is that I also had a grandfather who turned in a M1 Garand that's stock was covered in tallies, among the various other relatives who went out a killin.
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I'd easily believe that your grandpas were on different sides of the war back then, but it'd be a bit more difficult to believe the part about your Hitlerian lineage for the simple fact that
>We're all anonymous here
But I don't think you're bragging, otherwise you would be namefagging/tripfagging as many other attention whores.
Albanian names and surnames usually depend on your origins, either balkan or turkish (because Ottoman domination and all that), but usually they have actual meanings: Fatjon means "our luck", Gëzim means "joy" and so on. My parents went for a different route for their second son and so called me Arzen ("ar" being gold and "zen" being half of my grandad's name). What surprised me is that even though this name is supposed to be invented, I've actually met one or two albanians with my same name. Heck, I even found it on Urban Dictionary while searching for a tag game I was doing on deviantart!
I've had a veteran grandad too, died a few years ago of old age, he was even shown in an albanian newspaper article along with some other deceased veterans who died roughly around that time too.
But I'm not telling you about what one of my great grandfathers was, simply because it would sound like a dick-measuring contest but with ancestries and because I only know this through parents and I'm not fully sure it's all true.
If it sounded kind of dick swingin its mostly because I'm rather proud of my lineage. Its just so fucked beyond belief and at the same time, something I'm proud of. All the good and bad shit, all the times my forefathers stood up for what they believed was right.

It feels like I have the weight of all those before me, sitting on my shoulders, showing me that even those that were illiterate potato farmers have turned on a dime and rose to do great things facing the full might of what very well is hell on earth.

Its my own proof that what a man can do is what a man will do. Knowing that there have been men before me who have done more with less, its, I don't want to say a comfort, but it kind of is.

That I need not look to the past to learn if I measure up because there has always been good men who have been holding the line, with rifle, sword or mind.

I need only do as I will and I'd have earned the respect to sit with my forefathers and mothers who earned their place to sit.
holy shit is is getting hype as fuck
I expected some mediocre feels when I cam to this thread, and then I got some intrigue, and now I'm getting some hype as fuck sci-fi crime drama that's taking EQG and making sense of it and I'm loving every post. Don't stop, man. I've got a feeling this ride is only beginning, anyways
Oh man this story is getting fucking crazy. I can't wait for the writefag to get back.
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>So you deafended them with SCIENCE!"
>>"Could you please not make that gesture when you say 'science'?" I think you scared the server
[Waiting Intensifies]
Holy shit.. I was about to ask if it was mook before you said it. Only just now catching up on threads I didn't have time to go through this weekend.


To be that guy... I was wondering if you ever were gonna continue that homeless anon story. Like, from a while ago. https://archive.moe/mlp/thread/20358765/#20365049

>She nods. "Hard to ignore that when it's blaring at 140 dBSPL at 200 Pa."
140 dB(SPL) /IS/ 200 Pa of sound pressure when using the common reference sound pressure (p0) of 20 μPa (lower threshold of hearing for humans approx). Saying "140 dBSPL at 200 Pa" could be confusing thinking 200 Pa is supposed to be p0, which is probably isn't the case here. It actually would make 140dB(SPL) be much louder than what you could take when factoring it into the equation, where 140dB(SPL) using the 200Pa p0 is ~188dB(SPL) when converting it over.

As a reference at 183 dB: "183dB = 6 PSI. On large scale would result in total destruction of all structures, and particle velocity of 180 miles per hour. " I hope this isn't how loud the alarm is.

>"Pa is sound pressure. That's just above the threshold of pain for most people."
Pa is just a measure of pressure in general.

Damnit Twilight, you should know this shit.

Though I'm possibly wrong with some stuff, this was after a random detour of google searching after sparking curiosity.
>See wall of text
>"Mook is back!"
>"Wow I wonder what he wrote this time."
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This. But I still hope to see some drama and feels.
this is getting good.
Interesting point of view and a reasonable one too. Anyway I wasn't saying you sounded like you were bragging, I was saying that I didn't want to sound like a braggart myself. Being proud of your ancestry is not inherently bragging, unless you're obsessing everyone over it.
Don't blame Twi on that, that was my fault. Twi would just give me a Look due to insufficient research.

Oh, Homeless Anon?
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>Halfway through the meat pie (mmm. pie.)
"So... mrglgh..."
"You're telling me you have a doppelganger?"
>Twi finishes chewing *and* swallowing her bite of salad before responding.
>You could learn a lot from her like that.
>"My parents pulled me from public school at an early age as they felt the curriculum wasn't sufficiently challenging. I was home-schooled until what was technically my sophomore year in high school."

"Dang. And here you are with people skills and stuff."
>"Don't be asinine. Based on my research, I am more than sufficiently socialized, especially compared to fourty-seven percent of other home-schooled children. It helped that Mother is a writer and Father is a polymath - he knows a lot about a lot of things."
>You file 'polymath' away to look up later. In case Twi's making this up.
>"I was working through a long-term research project for 'school' that involved seismic activity when I found an unusual spike in the events occuring within a 5 mile radius of Canterlot High School. These events all occurred within a one month period. Research into the newspapers and social medial found that something... something unusual even for a high school... happened that month - and then... nothing."

>You chew slowly. Yeah, you remember hearing stories about "the weird shit that happened that year."
>Twi continues, "School officials blamed old gas pipes or something equally disingenuous. I finished *that* project and thought nothing of it until the next year, when I got the same readings *and* visible evidence of an... event... over and around the school around the time of the 'Battle of the Bands' competition."
>That stuff you remember seeing on YouTube. Wacky light show and stuff.
>But the cameras were always too far away from the performers for you to get a good look at any of them.
>Including one who sort of...

"Twi - can you sing?"
>Twi blinks at you. "Yes."
"Will you sing something - just to settle-"
>Twi looks annoyed. Also, she's got two locks of hair on either side of her head that've come loose from that pony tail again.
>"That's my point - that was *not* me. Someone who shares all my external attributes attended the school for one month on two separate occasions over two years, Each time for one month."
>"With my parent's help, I found out that her name was 'Twilight Sparkle'. The same as mine. After that, we sat down and talked for a long time about what that mean and... with some strings pulled, I registered for the second half of my Junior year at Canterlot High School as 'Twyla Sparkel'."

>You're still eating, but not as fast as you might have been. This is getting interesting.
>Twi kills off her iced tea and waves for a refill before continuing.
>"I wore my glasses, but dyed this streak out,"
>She gestures to the weird mix of white and red and black that looks, in the right light, like purple.
>This makes you notice the mix of red and brown and black in the rest of her hair which, in the right light... anyway.
>"But our physical appearances were so similar that even with these big 'birth control glasses' on my face, people started calling me by 'her' name. I let them talk me into answering to 'Twilight' over a month or so... and then finally 'Twi', because the research I was doing was making it harder and harder to keep 'her' and 'me' separate."
>You kill off your drink in time to ask the server who brought the pitcher of iced tea to bring you another one of that noxious green stuff you drink. The server gives you a look, but heads off to do so.

"So... another Twilight out there, huh?"
>At least that lets Twi know you were sort of paying attention, right?
>She nods. "An entire, separate entity who looks and sounds exactly like me. I wasn't able to find any physical evidence that I could test for DNA or other indicators... but there was enough documentary evidence to support it as a fact."
>She takes another measured bite of salad, then says, "And this is where things got... strange."

>You give her your best deadpan. "THEN things got strange? And aren't 'birth control glasses' supposed to be non-prescription?"
>She rests her forearms on the table and leans over her plate at you. "You're picking out the most irrelevant part of what I've told you to indicate that you're paying attention. That's subtle."
>You do a little mock-bow from a seated position. While you're bent over, you shovel more food into your pie hole (mmm. pie.).
>"And the moment is lost. I became part of a social group - five other females who had all spent time with 'Twilight' when she was, briefly, attending Canterlot. With some careful adjustments to my behavior I managed to 'fit in' - I even developed actual friendships with them - and obtained more information about the events at social occasions."
"So'fil 'cc'snts?"
>She gestures vaguely, "Study groups, sleepovers, movie nights, celebrating our 18th birthdays by getting drunk, sexual experimentation, the usual."
>sexual the what now?
>She grins and reaches over you to pat you on your shoulder as you appear to have inhaled some meat pie, which is not breathable by humans.
>You kill off your drink in time to ask the server who brought the pitcher of iced tea to bring you another one of that noxious green stuff you drink. The server gives you a look, but heads off to do so.

"So... another Twilight out there, huh?"
>At least that lets Twi know you were sort of paying attention, right?
>She nods. "An entire, separate entity who looks and sounds exactly like me. I wasn't able to find any physical evidence that I could test for DNA or other indicators... but there was enough documentary evidence to support it as a fact."
>She takes another measured bite of salad, then says, "And this is where things got... strange."

>You give her your best deadpan. "THEN things got strange? And aren't 'birth control glasses' supposed to be non-prescription?"
>She rests her forearms on the table and leans over her plate at you. "You're picking out the most irrelevant part of what I've told you to indicate that you're paying attention. That's subtle."
>You do a little mock-bow from a seated position. While you're bent over, you shovel more food into your pie hole (mmm. pie.).
>"And the moment is lost. I became part of a social group - five other females who had all spent time with 'Twililght' when she was, briefly, attending Canterlot. With some careful adjustments to my behavior I managed to 'fit in' - I even developed actual friendships with them - and obtained more information about the events at social occasions."
"So'fil 'cc'snts?"
>She gestures vaguely, "Study groups, sleepovers, movie nights, celebrating our 18th birthdays by getting drunk, sexual experimentation, the usual."
>sexual the what now?
>She grins and reaches over you to pat you on your shoulder as you appear to have inhaled some meat pie, which is not breathable by humans.
>"The usual ways post-pubescent females become closer, Anon."
>At leat that's what you think she said while you're attempting to hack up a lung.
>Eventually you can breathe again. Which is good. The server was approaching rapidly with your drink.
>You inhale 16 oz of noxious green fizzy crap and ask for another.
>You realize your server now hates you.

"Ack... so... information."
>"About how this other 'Twilight' behaved. She did.. odd things. Vegetarian - not odd in itself, but she kept behaving as if she wasn't used to having standard motor skills. Typing with her knuckles, trying to kick things into working, that sort of thing..."
>"One day, one of the group - Sunset - just up and vanished. No forwarding address. No note. Nothing.
>"I asked my friends, but all they would tell me is that she 'went home'."

"Oh like Elvis!"
>"I don't know what you mean by that."
"Men in Black - 'Elvis ain't dead - he just went home!'"
>Not your best Tommy Lee Jones impression, but sufficient.
>This even gets a little smile from Twi. "Yes. People transfer in and out of schools all the time, but the office couldn't provide me with a forwarding address or anything that indicated where *she* went. Now I had *two* mysterious females to research."

"And did you?"
>She nods. "It was that research that led to my fascination with high energy physics, and my current employment. And the situation I find myself in now.

>Somewhere during all this talking, the food went away.
>Twi flags down the server and pays. You had forgotten she was going to do that.
>"Now... I need to show you something before I can tell you anything else."
>"Because if I don't show you, you won't believe any of the rest of the story."
Scilight is starting to piss me off. I hope this ends with Anon dumping her for the real Twi
You keep me sane at work mook. You da man.
>Back in your little hatchback, and AnonyMobile!
>No one calls it that but you, dork.

>Twi gives you a few turns to make, and on the fourth one, you finally notice something.
"Uh, Twi... can you look in the rear view mirror and tell me if the car two car lengths back looks familiar?"
>Twi adjusts her glasses and peers into the mirror.
>"The dark grey Buick four door sedan?"
>Uh. Wow. And with glasses, no less.

"Yeah that one."
>"They have been behind us since we pulled out of the O'Brien's parking lot."
"Oh... kay. Um. The indicator light's busted so I have to ask - do you have your seatbelt on?"
>"... yes?"
"Good. Hang on."

>You take the next immediate right.
>Like, immediate. Right-angle-turn Tron-Light-Cycle AutoMan style.
>You punch the accelerator, which demands to know what the fuck YOU'RE thinking.
>Fine. You push down on the accelerator and the car moves faster. Barely.
>You throw an entirely illegal left turn (again, 90 degree angle and complaining tires) and a right down an alley and a left into the 'staff only' parking lot behind the grocery store, between two big mother SUVs.
>You get out of the car, Twi staring at you, pop the hatch, grab a moving blanket, close the hatch, and toss the blanket over the back of the car, then get back in and close the door carefully, so as not to give the blanket a reason to slide off.
>You stare into the side view mirror intently.

"Now. We wait. Gray blanked in a shady parking lot between two big cars might..."

>The Buick slowly... rolls... past... oh christ are they sto- no they're not.

>It worked?

>Son of a BITCH.
>You slouch halfway into the footwell.

>Twi looks 'down' at you.
>"That was... impressive. And effective."
>You half-grin up at her.
"One of my other part-time gigs. Town car driver. They make you take a combat driving course to get certified. Never had to use it until now."
>You haul your happy ass back up into the seat properly.
"Buuut. That means whoever *they* are - Flash's buddies, maybe? - know you're in a car that looks like mine. And they probably know your car. And that sucks."
>"Town car driver?"
>You shrug.
"I have a few part-time gigs. The moving is more consistent. Town car driving tips better."
>"They know this car. But town cars are anonymous... What is the number for the company you drive for?"
>You give her the number and she does things with her phone.

>A couple minutes later, your phone goes off - Seems you have a pick up and all-day gig with to drive a Ms. Sparkel around town.
"Nice plan. It means I have to get to the garage, though."
>"And how far is that?"
"From here? Maybe six tense, terror-filled miles."
>Twi gets out of the car, looks around, then yanks the blanket off your little hatchback and stuff it into the rear seat.
>She gets her seatbelt on, closes, the door, latches it, and looks at you.
>So you start the car and back out of your hidey-hole.

>You stop.
>You can't help yourself.
"It's six miles to the garage. We have full stomachs, half a tank of gas, we're being pursued by faceless corporate spies attached to a douchebag from high school, and I'm in way over my head."
>She grins.
>"Hit it."
Go on...
Only a night she said, she'll leave in the morning she said....
definitely something you could pursue after this.

Cause this story is pretty damn awesome right now.

>tfw was there for sunset in the stables originally
What, no sunglasses? Dan Aykroyd would be disappoint.
>You're not sure whether your relieved that there's no exciting chase scene, or disappointed.
>There was one sphincter-clenching moment when you thought you saw that Buick again, but it was a two door and not a four door.
>What a difference two doors makes, right?

>You pull up to the parking garage where Chariot Town Cars resides.

>Who NAMES these things anyway?
>Why does EVERYTHING in this town have a horse-related name?

>You ponder this while you spend far too god damn long getting the god damn card out of your god damn wallet to operate the god damn security gate.
>Thankfully, no mysterious Buicks appear while you fumble and flail like a god damn spastic.
>You just about burn rubber up the 'in' ramp once the gate lifts.
>You do NOT look over at Twi because whatever she's thinking about you at the moment is probably painfully accurate.

>After a shaky launch, you carefully drive up to the 3rd level and park in the 'employee parking' area.
>Backed in.
>And you take the blanket out of the car and drape it again.
>Just in case.
>Paranoid much?
>Just because you're paranoid does not mean they are not out to get you.
>Twi comes out from under the blanketed car - did you even NOTICE she was still in there?
>"Ok. I have to go suit up before they'll dispatch me to pick you up. You can come with me to the office and wait in the nice part."
>Twi follows you, looking a little amused, as you walk through the big, well-lit yet somehow grimy as hell parking structure, every episode of "Person of Interest" bouncing around in your head.
>With a side-order of all the "Bourne" movies.
>And ... well shit, everything you've ever watched on TV that involved a parking garage and being ingloriously gunned down by faceless goons.

>"Anon, what is that sound you keep making?"
>You stop.
"What sound?"
>"A sort of high pitched keening sound. Like 'nnnnnnnnnn!'"
"Wow. That's annoying."
>"That's what I was thinking."

>You lead Twi to the office trying hard not to make the sound of a doomed Anonymous.
>Or dying squirrel.
>Or apoplectic weasel or whatever the fuck that was. Wow.
>Fortunately, you make it to the offices of Chariot Town Cars un-doomed.
>You send Twi to the very nice, carpeted, coffee-bar-equipped, free-wifi waiting room.
>You haul your ass to the less nice, uncarpeted, vending-machine equipped, good-luck-getting-a-signal-in-HERE-sport locker room and employee lounge.

>"Hey, Non!"
>"Hey, Enzo."
>Uncle Enzo, the dispatcher, part-owner, and general wonderful Goombata.

>Enzo hands you the piece of paper that empowers you to take an expensive car worth more than ... you ... out into traffic.
>Sure enough, they got the client's name wrong. :TWALOT SPONKL
>Well, that's what Enzo's handwriting does to innocent words
>What did those names ever do to him anyway?

>Anyway, time to suit up.
>o/` Pina Colada Song o/`
>... or not. Enzo is also a big fan of the mellow hits of the 70's.
>No one has mustered the nerve to ask him to change the station.

>You suit up.
>White shirt. Red tie. Charcoal jacket and slacks. Shiny-ass ... 8 hole Doc Marten steel-toed boots.
>Hey. You gotta be practical somewhere, right?
>And no, you do not put on those pansy-ass fingerless driving gloves.

>You get the key to car 44 from Enzo ("Lookin' sharp, kid!") and feel much less likely to be gunned down ignominiously in a parking garage.
>For the moment.
>Car 44 is a beaut. As are all the cars owned and maintained by Chariot Town Cars.
>The operative word is probably 'maintained'.
>Hell, the hatchback hasn't broken down yet. When it does, you'll carve the date of death into the hood and leave it there.
>As a warning to others.
>In any case, 44 starts up like a warm summer day.
>You do the mirror-checking thing, then very carefully bring it back to the door to the office.
>Twi, not surprisingly, has gotten bored with the posh waiting room and is waiting for you out in all the car fumes.
>She gets into the front with you.
"You know, normally the client rides in the back. Tinted windows."
>She makes a little 'eh' face, then gets out and gets into the back.
>No little glass barrier in a town car, so at least there's that.
"So, Ms. Sparkel, where to?"
>Twi looks around the car like she's figuring out emergency exits, then leans back into the deep, rich, Corinthian leather and sighs.
"Just... drive. For a little while. I won't be able to show you what I need to show you until tonight.
>No stop that.

>You put the beast in gear and ease on out of the garage. Thanks to local laws, the front's not *as* tinted as the sides and rear but it should make it harder for anyone to spot the passenger.
>The drive, on the other hand... that's what the Ray-Bans are for.
>Damn, you coulda used these about a half-hour ago when you quoted the Blues Brothers.

>Into the afternoon sun, you mentally set a course that takes you wandering through some of your favorite parts of town.
>Past the City Courthouse, which hasn't fallen victim to "Old building are boring - make it all ONE BIG BLOCK OF CONCRETE" syndrome.
>Through the park with the ... unusual topiary.
>Past your favorite taco stand - just to make sure it's still there.
>This kills maybe a half-hour.
>A silent, brooding half-hour.

"Twi... you ok with some music while we avoid capture?"
>Twilight looks up from something she was writing on a little notepad.
>"Mm? Sure."


"Sorry. Last driver must have set that."
>You glance into the rear view mirror and see Twi doing her best 'frightened science cat' impression.
>Her hair didn't stand on end, but it coulda.
>"... I will take your word for it. Maybe something less... loud."
>You hang a left onto Concourse, turn the radio back on and WAY down WAY fast and flip around for a while.
>For some reason you land on a jazz station you don't hate and leave it there.
"Sometimes, clients like tooling around in a black tinted car with jazz playing. Especially at night."
>"I... see...'
>You hear Twi scribbling more. The scribbling stops when the music stops, and you discover she's found the volume controls in her part of the car as things get turned way down.
>"... please don't ever call me 'ma'am'. We're the same age."
"You're a client. So..."
>"And stop pretending I'm a client."
"You're paying for the car, aren't you?"

>Pause for clever driving stuff to avoid someone who stalled out in the left lane. Jackass.
>"I'm paying for the car, and for food, because ... you're doing ... a lot of things which I shouldn't be asking you to do."
>You head back into the park because, hey, park.
"Welllll... I didn't have anything planned for the day anywayyyy..."
>"And you can stop doing that, too, Anon. You're going to a lot of trouble for someone you hardly knew in high school."
"Yeah, someone I hardly knew in high school who is clearly *in* trouble."
>"Oh? Do you play the white knight for many damsels in distress?"
"... not so far. Unless you count holding someone's hair when they puke. You'd be the first."

>That buys you some time to figure out which way to that place you park sometimes when you're between clients and just need a god damn nap.
>You find it.
>You park, unbuckle your seatbelt and twist 'round to look at Twi.
>Twi looks... worried.
>Also scared.
"I'm just parking so we don't drain the gas tank before we go to wherever it is you need to go tonight."
>She starts to say something and you make a little 'hang on there' gesture. Or wave at her weirdly.
"And yes. I'm following you down the rabbit hole. Don't know why, but you're in some kind of wierd shit tier trouble and there's more than one of you and ... this is the most interesting thing I've had to deal with in about two years. So. Yeah."
>"If boredom is your primary motivation for helping me, Anon, you might be insane."
"I've lived for 23 years with the name 'U B Anonymous'. Normality isn't really an option."
>"It made it easier for me to find your place. Not many entries in the phone book for 'Anonymous'."
"Yeah, that's true..."
>You're the only 'Anonymous' in the phone book.
>So Twi could find your apartment.
>So Twi could drive to your apartment last night.
>In her car.
>Which was probably being followed...

"Oh shit."
"Shit shit shit shit shit phone phone -" *speed dial* *speaker phone*
>"Chariot Town Cars this is Megan..."
"Megan, it's Anon - can you put me through to Uncle Enzo?"
>o/` Pina Colada song o/`"

>Twi startles at your outbreak of Tourettes, then leans forward and half-whispers 'What?'
"Your car. At my apartment."
>The penny drops. Twi, who is likely smarter than you, realizes what that might mean.
>You learn that a sense of slowly dawning horror is NOT made better by the o/` Pina Colada o/` song.

>"Hey Non - this is Enzo."
"Uncle Enzo... I need to ask a favor..."
aaand break time. Don't you love cliffhangers?
I sure do!

danke to the Anon who reminded me of 'Homeless Anon' - I grabbed that and threw it into a pastebin that's attached to all the other god damn pastebins of my gibbering.

Pastebin of current gibbering: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

- mook
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"Now is not the time for fear, Twilight."
That comes later.
Now the story gets good... Anon's shitty apartment is in danger, will his leftovers and cinder block table survive?
Does Uncle Enzo sound like Enzo the fat fuck from Bayonetta? Or is that just a coincudence?
"If uncle Enzo doesn't remove Twi's car from in front of Anon's apartment, would he die?"
"It would be extremely expensive.
"He's a fiscally responsible guy."

tfw a Snow Crash reference goes waaay over people's heads.

I'll be in my bunk, sobbing
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Fuck I'm surprised I wasn't the only one.

The fact that you read more than most of us already shows in how much you know how to build a character with this green, man.
Really great character development between these two opposite personalities, seriously.

d-don't cwai mook-senpai..
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I'm hooked on this story
>tfw you find a diamond in a mountain of shit
>Enzo (NOT YOUR UNCLE) chuckles over the phone.
>"A favor, Non? You haven't asked a favor since that time with -"
"Uncle Enzo, we're on speaker phone and my client is listening."
>"Oh, well. That time... at that place... with the guy... with the head."
"Yeah, that... thing. There. Anyway. My client -"
>You hear papers rustling.
>"Miz... Shponkle?"
"Close enough."
>Not even Uncle Enzo can read Uncle Enzo's handwriting.
"Her car is currently parked outside my apartment building. We have reason to believe that there are parties who are watching that car aaand... might decide to go into it and my apartment looking for a McGuffin."
>"A McGuffin, eh?" He chuckles again. "And am I to assume the McGuffin in question is not in the car or apartment?"
"Nowhere near the premesis, Uncle Enzo."
>"Wellll..." once that word goes past 2 syllables, you know you're in for it. "I'll send one of my nephews around to move her vehicle to a more secure location. Say, the garage?"
"That's the garage we just left," you stage-whisper to Twi, who makes "I already knew that" gestures. "Sure. That'd be great."

>"And might it be efficatious to have said nephew keep an eye on your place. In case any unexpected visitors drop by? I could always send over the rug guys..."
"Oh no no no... This isn't a 'carpet' thing, Uncle. Just a... locksmith thing."
>"Oh, willie will be happy to make sure your locks are in proper working order. Anything else you need, you let me know."
"Yes, sir. And there's three-"
>Twi pushes four fingers at you
"Four grocery bags near my table that should probably be moved as well. My client's items."
>"If they do not fit into your locker, they will be placed in 'lost goods' with your name on them.
"Thank you, Uncle Enzo."
>That chuckle again. All old scotch and illegal cigars from out of the country. "Oh and Non?"
>"You know that I am very fond of Car 44."
>"If you find yourself in a position where the integrity of our vehicles and the services we provide are at risk, I would advise you to go to the auxillary lot with all due haste."
>"Making certain not to chip or scratch the finish on Car 44."
>"Is there... anything else I might do to faciliate your client's comfort and satisfaction?"
"Mmmmnot that I can think of, Uncle."
>"Very well, Non. Drive safely."
"Yessir. Thank you, Uncle Enzo."
>The call ends and you find yourself able to breathe again.

>Twi, understandably, LOOKS at you with a look that merits all capital letters.
>"Anon... what... *was*... that?"

You grin. "Uncle Enzo is a man with many deep contacts in the community. A man who enjoys helping his fellow man. A man-"
>"A gangster?"
>You very carefully look appaled.
"What? Oh nooooo no no no no no."
>You clear your throat and attempt to imitate Uncle Enzo.
"He simply has a greater depth of resources and personal contacts than the average citizen. All of his associates and their businesses are entirely legitimate and reputable. Even under the closest of scrutinies."
>"So he *is* a gangster."
>You shrug.
"He's Uncle Enzo. And I will be washing this car and every other car in the garage on my days off for a while because of the favors he is willing to do for me. Unless our lives really *are* in danger and I get killed or something."
>"You really *can't* help saying smartass things like that, can you?
"It's a coping mechanism."
>You start up the car and put it in gear.
"Anyway, in theory your stuff should be in the garage in about ... an hour, maybe a little more depending on whether Willie has to do complex lock-related things."
>"And my car?"
"Parked and, very possibly, washed and vacuumed in the garage."
>You whip the wheel around and execute a decent 3 point back-and-turn.
"If he's feeling expansive, with a full tank, a tune-up, and four new tires."
>"... new tires?"
"Legitimately procured new tires. I hope you like white-walls."

>You don't want to admit it, but after last night and this morning, you're actively enjoying knowing more about something that's going on than Twi does.
>"I suppose it's only fair that you should, Anon."
>You should also seriously look into this whole 'talking your internal monologue out loud thing. This could get awkward."
>"It already has, Anon."
Goddammit, I needed those sides.
I've never played rollerderby before in my life, but I'm pretty sure that those bows and arrows have very little to do with the sport.

>With all the driving and hiding and secret angent-y stuff, lunch time has faded to afternoon.
>You're driving Twi around in an expensive car while your friend and dispatcher sends other friends out to do friendly things like move your client's car and get her things and maybe fight off some random corporate ninjas or something.
>Memo to self: You read too much cyberpunk. Corporate ninjas, indeed.

>You're taking the long loop around town - traffic sucks but it's not like you have anywhere you need to go until Twi tells you -
>"What time is it?"
>You check the clock on the dash. "Just about 5:30. Which explains the craptastic traffic. Half the world's trying to get into town for the night, half the world's trying to get out."
>She makes what you're beginning to thnk of as "Twilight's Ominous Statement Warning Sigh".
>"All right. In another fifteen minutes, Get off the freeway and start heading toward Canterlot High."
>Canterlot High. Well now.
"How come?"
>"In order for me to show you the rest of the mess you're in with me, we have to go back to school."

>You creep along with all the rest of the traffic for 15 minutes, then begin Operation Get Off The God Damn Freeway.
>Car 44, under your control, oozes between rows with grace and
>Ok, you just get over to the exit lane without killing anyone.

>On a whim, you hit a button on the radio.
>o/` My Old School o/`
>Steely Dan, you never fail, do you.
>This even gets a smirk from Twi. "Correlation isn't causation, Anon."
"Just this once, the soundtrack gods smile upon me. Let's not ruin the moment."
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Moar, based writefriend.
>It takes less time to get to Canterlot High School than you thought.
>No game tonight, so the stadium is dark.
>As is the gym.
>As are... most of the buildings.
>Ok be honest with yourself. A vacant school campus? Kinda creepy.

>You find a place to park on the street just a little bit away from the DO NOT PARK HERE UNDER PAIN OF DEATH signs.
>Car parked, you turn around to regard Twi.
"So, here we are... about to break into school."
>Twi shakes her head. "Not break into. We're not breaking into anything. We're just trespassing."
"Oh. *Just* trespassing."
>"How is it someone who has obvious mob ties is worried about breaking the law?"
"Hey now... we've been over that whole 'mob ties' thing. Uncle Enzo is a -"
>"Legitimate Businessman, yes." How can someone be so cute and so... what the heck is that word... make you wanna run screaming in frustration... at the same time?
>And why are you thinking about that *now*, you dip?
>Oh wait, she's still talking.
>"- in the base of the statue of the Canterlot mascot. At least, that's -"
"I'm sorry, I was having an internal monologue. What was that first part again?"

>"I should have noticed by the way your eyes glazed over. All right...
>"When Sunset left - and left without any forwarding address - I asked my friends what had happened and where she had gone. None of them claimed to know, except that 'she went home'.
>"Yes, like Elvis. You've already made that reference. Please let me get through this.
>"The rest of my time at Canterlot was... uneventful. A few science competitions, that ... incident with the jello and the fire suppression system... the usual things that happen when you're a focused, motivated STEM groupie."

>This may be the first time you've ever heard her talk about herself with any kind of, well, opinion. Huh.
>"The day after graduation, I was getting the mail and I found a letter addressed to me. No postage. No address either. Just my name, 'Twilight Sparkle' in an ornate hand. The letter was sealed with sealing wax. Yes, I know, 'who *uses* that stuff?' I asked myself that question. When I opened the letter, I had more questions to ask.
>"The letter was, or claimed to be from, Sunset. She had 'gone home' as my friends had said, but the 'home' she had gone to was... more difficult to explain. She phrased things very..."
>You can see the frustration and hear it in her voice
>"Very... vaguely. That her 'home' was somewhere far away and it was unlikely that she would ever be able to come back. She wrote that she valued her time and our friendship and felt that I was owed a full explanation for everything, but that she wasn't able to explain it all in a way I would be able to - or willing to - understand in a letter."
>She looks out the window. "I think it's dark enough for us to do what I need to do."
>while you're working out the story so far and *that* ominous statement, she hands you something floppy and fabric. "Here. Put this on."

>It's... a ski mask. Only with no eye holes.
"What the hell is this?"
>Twi is doing things with her hair to bring it all into a tight bun at the back of her head. "It's a mask. From a 'morph suit' - something insane sports fanatics wear, apparently. Grey and green blend into the dark better than black, and any surveilance cameras will just pick up vague forms instead of faces."
>You turn the thing around in your hands until you work out where the thing opens.
>What the hell.
>You put it on.
>Everything is... a little greenish and fuzzy - like you were wearing your mom's pantyhose on your head
>... but you can see. You can even see that Twi looks ... pretty goofy with a grey one on her head.
>She shrugs out of her lab coat and puts a few items from it into the pockets of her slacks.
>"This would be the last chance you'll have to climb out of the rabbit hole, Anonymous. I don't know what I will find under that statue, but I theorize that it won't be anything close to 'normal'.

>You grin. Which she can't see. Because of the mask.
>"It never gets too weird for me."
>Not the actual quote, but close enough.

>Twi opens her door, you remember to turn off the cabin light, you get out, lock the car, and go off to do some crimes.
>Crimes... for SCIENCE!
>"Anon, don't shout and stop making that gesture. People are going to stare."
>Really. Is there a drug or shock treatment or something to get you to stop doing that?
"We're already wearing goofy masks. They're going to stare."
>"If we just act normally, they'll edit the masks right out of their awareness. People see all kinds of strange things all the time and never realize they're ignoring the strangest ones."

>You pass under a streetlight. Welp. Twi looks awful strange. Gray full face mask above a dark purple pant suit.
>You can only assume that with a green full face mask, red tie and black two-piece suit you look like a total jackass.
>You straighten your tie anyway.
>Twi grabs you by the arm and hustles you out of the pool of light and toward the big horse statue.
... and now that I know more about the reCAPTCHA system than I ever wanted to, it's break time for the evening.

PASTEBIN AHOY - http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH
if you're a glutton for punishment - all my pastebins are linked here: http://pastebin.com/jvQM3mn4


keep circulating the tapes
- mook
Ladies and gentleman...we have Anonymous.
Anon looks like a proper anon now lol
>that nice fucking feel when
This shit is inspiring, bro, please keep on truckin' next time you get the chance
Y-you too.

Bitch, that's what you get for dating Flash.
That happens to me all the time. I once had a word document with some hundred pages of text from a "one-shot story".
And the wait begins...
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Always takes me forever to find this thread
Bump to the Future
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Bump a dump
>U B Anonymous.
>U B Anonymous skulking across a deserted high school campus with Twi, who you barely knew in school, and are gradually getting to know better since she showed up at your place after being assaulted by faceless corporate ninjas who are apparently after something she discovered after she found out that she had a doppelganger who went to the same school before she did but while she was in town and -
>Ok let's summarize...

>You are Anonymous and you are up to your eyebrows in some weird freaky shit.

>Twi is alternately dragging you along ("You need to stop gawking.") and holding you back ("Don't run - you're more noticable when you run.") as you walk along the stupidly long path to the big horse statue in the middle of campus.
>Why are you walking to the horse statue?
>Weird science stuff, apparently.
>Why are you wearing a green full face mask with your Town Car driver suit?
>That's harder to explain.
>You pull even with Twi, who is... wearing goggles over her mask.

"You have goggles?"
>"Light-enhancing and ground to my perscription."
"How come *I* don't have goggles?"
>"Because when I came up with this plan a week ago, *you* weren't involved."
>She actually sounds a little embarassed. And annoyed.
>You're decide she's annoyed with herself.
>Makes no sense if she's annoyed at *you*.
>She stops, pulls you to a halt (lady has a *grip*) and does a slow turn in place.
>You're about to ask why when she nods and drags you after her.
"What was-"
>"No one's following us. That's a good thing."
>"Just because I'm paranoid does not negate the fact that someone is clearly after me."
"Good poin- wow. I had forgotten how huge that thing is."
>This is one immense horse statue.
>"Legend has it that the statue used to be of the founder of this town, riding the horse."
>Oh hey, boring history time with Twi while she walks around the statue, dragging you.
>"Someone stole, damaged, or otherwise removed the statue of the man, so here's this horse.
>"Later on, they moved it from in front of the Town Hall to here."
>Boring history taken care of, Twi drops to a crouch next to the bit boxy podium plinth... thing the horse is on.
>How the hell do you know what a 'plinth' is, anyway?

>Twi is peering intently at one 'side' of the base. "Ok... there's the latch... which is fake."
>"Worked that out last year. The keyhole is solid - no tumblers inside. Because..."
>She drags you around to the opposite side and pushes gently on a totally unremarkable bit of the marble facing.
>A piece the size of your ID card pushes in. Suddenly there's a bunch of little tiles where one big piece of marble was.
>Twi starts sliding them around, pushing on them, muttering something about "She'd make this something I could solve..."
>Click click CLACK.
>A 'panel' drops open, really really smoothly and slowly, on the bottom left side of the base.

>You actually take a step back when that happen.
>Twi turns to look at you - which is weird enough because she's still wearing the gray mask thing AND funky science goggles.
>Things shift around under her mask and the goggles ride up a little - you're gonna take that as 'Twi is smiling.'
>"Sunset wrote that the answers are in the statue."
>She reaches into the dark, unlit, spooky creepy hole in the statue in the empty high school -
>You have really got to stop watching those cheap horror flicks at night.
>Twi reaches into the hole in the statue and pulls out a box. All you can see is that it's a box about as big as a phone book.
If there's a string in the box I'll shit myself.
Wow. that's a reference *I* don't get!
And now I know.
>"Good. That's..."
>She looks around suddenly, then pushes the box into your hands and starts doing slidy pushing clicky things to the base again and suddenly it's all solid and whole and she's got you by the arm and hauling you away at a right angle to the path you took to get here.
>For once you don't go all Arthur Dent with 'what' and 'why' and 'where's the tea?' and just walk with her.
>"Get your mask off. We're just two people going for a stroll on our old alma mater."
>You get your mask off and stuff it into a pocket.
>That mask... might come in handy some time.
>Twi has removed her goggles and mask and undone her hair so it's just all floofy and hanging down around her face.
>Kinda... sexy. Really.
>What the hell are you thinking about that NOW for, huh?

>She snuggles in closer to you. "Put your arm around me, Anon. We need to make this look convincing."
"... for who?"
>"I don't know... yet."
>There's also the fact that it's dark and getting colder and Twi is, for once, without her lab coat.
"Hang on."
>You valiantly struggle out of your suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
>"... nice touch." She pulls the jacket close around her, then slides back under your arm.
>So that, you know, the two of you look all innocent and you haven't had a real date for a year and a half or so and FOCUS ANONYMOUS.
>You and Twi casually stroll around the campus - about a quarter of it, just two people wandering around a school on a school night.
>Carrying a box.
>Nothing to see here, citizens, move along.
>She leans in closer to you. This is so she can whisper.
>"We can't go back to my place... and we can't go back to your place."
>You think that over. Yep. Even with Enzo's 'nephews' doing 'nephew' things, neither option is a good one.
"Well, there's the auxillary garage - it's got a couple of trailers set up for short-term residency."
>She pulls her glasses out of a shirt pocket and puts them on so she can give you a proper Look - and probably so she can see you.
>"And Enzo -"
"*Uncle* Enzo."
>"*Uncle* Enzo is a legitimate businessman."
"Well, *yes*."
>She makes that 'tsk' sound again and an 'erk' sound when you stop abruptly and drag her to a halt next to you."

"Twi... see Car 44 over there?"
>"The car you drove us here in? Yes."
"Now... look... over there... with your funky science goggles."
>She hands you to box (this thing is *heavy*) and switches out glasses for goggles and takes a step farther away from the lamp post.
>"Car. Buick. Four door. With ... at least two people in it."
>"They found us."
"Or they lucked out and happened -"
>"How they got here doesn't matter. What matters is that we can't go back to the car."

>And things were going to *well* up to now.
>"Complaining will not improve matters, Anonymous."
>"Neither will shouting."
>"Seriously. You need to stop talking."
>After a brief struggle, you gently pry Twi's hand away from your face.
>Smelled a bit like lavender and chemicals and ... ozone.
"Ok I'm better now. What do you have on you? ID? Cards? Checkbook?
>"All three. I don't have..." she makes a sound very similar to "gnnnnngghhh!" and drags you across the street and into the shadows of another building. "Stand here. Block the light from my phone when I turn it-" wow that's bright in the dark like that.

>Twi hits a couple buttons. "Have to make sure that - Hiiiii, Brian? This is Ms. Spar-kel... I'm so embarassed... but I lost my badge somewhere tonight! Yes, I know... I know and I am *so* sorry..."
>Dang. Someone *does* have social skills.
>"Yes, so can you shut that one down and I'll come pick up a temporary one when I come in tomorrow? Oh thaaaanks, Brian. o/` I owe you one! o/`"
>She stuffs the phone into her pocket and relaxes. "There. At least they can't use it to get in."
"Check out the social engineering skills on *you*.
>"Brian is nice enough, but you have to talk down to his level." Woah. "My coat is in there, and my badge. Do you have your phone?"
>You check pants pocket but you put it in...
"Yeah, in the coat you're wearing."
>"Left or right side?
>She holds the coat open so you can reach into the right breast pocket. It's dark. You miss the pocket once. ONCE.
>Once when the back of your hand kinda brushes against Twi's... against Twi.
>Hey look you have your phone!
>(Hey look - SCORE!)
>Twi ignores the unexpected Anon-Twi contact. "So, we have some resources. How much cash do you have?"
>You shrug, "Maybe a few hundred that won't go to bills and stuff. Why?"
>"We need a place to stay for the night... and a drug store. A grocery store will work. There's one about a mile and a half that-way, and a motel... a little further..."
>You look down at her and she has her eyes closed and is making little gestures, like she's working out turns.
"Nice party trick."
>"Eidetic memory. Once it's in the treehouse, it's there for good."
>"We need to go this way. I'll explain as we walk."
>You walk away from the school, and Car 44. Which Uncle Enzo entrusted you with.
"I need to make a call."
>As Twi leads you down this street, turn, that street, turn, this ... alleyway
>("I don't remember it being this gross. Or dark.")...
>You find speed dial on your phone and call...
>"Chariot Town Cars, Enzo speaking."
"Uncle Enzo, this is Non."
>"Non! How is our client?
"She's fine, but there may be an issue with Car 44."
>The silence on the other end of the call is enough to make you come to a halt and ("urk!") drag Twi to a halt with you.
>"You say there is... an issue?"
"Y e s...."
>"And what kind of an issue? An incident? An accident?"
"Um. Uncle Enzo. I know how important it is to maintain the integrity of the service we provide, but..."
>"But?" Six syllables. He turned that word into six syllables.


"Car 44 is not currently under my control."
>Another jimmies-shriveling silence. You can hear 'Copa Cabana' playing in the background.
>"Is it?"
"Car 44 is intact but... while I was escorting my client back to it I found some unsavory individuals near the vehicle."
>"Ah. And you felt the safety of your client -"

>Deep breath.

>"A wise decision, Non. We place the safety of our clients above all else."
"I... thought so too, sir. But that means we'll need to retreive Car 44."
>"This will not be a problem." You hear papers rustling. "Car 44 is parked outside the high school?"
>How he can find this out from rustling papers is beyond you.
>"And these indivuduals?"
"Dubious, sir."
>You have a terrible, evil thought.
"They're... sitting on the hood of the car, sir."
>Another omnious silence.
>".... are they?"
>That would be 'Uncle Enzo's casual tone that precludes bad shit'. Time to aim that.
"Yessir. And one of them is wearing riveted jeans."
>".... are they?" You hear Uncle Enzo take a deep breath. Or maybe drag on his cigar. He exhales.
>"Non, I appreciate your professionalism in contacting us at what I will take as the first appropriate opportunity. I will just send... Myron... over to retrieve Car 44."
"Thank you, Uncle Enzo."
>"Does your client need anything from the vehicle once it has been retreived?"
"Her lab coat... and whatever's in there. I'll be by the garage tomorrow."
>"I know you will, Non. Remember, our clients' safety is our primary concern."
>"We will talk tomorrow."
>End call.
>You breathe again.
"Okay we can go now."
Fuck, Anon's not even safe from his job.
Uncle Enzo just expects a high level of professionalism from his employees.
I mean, the employees of Chariot Town Cars.
Which Uncle Enzo does *not* own.
You can't prove anything.
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I love waking up to win in the morning. Poor anonymous pissed off his gangster boss.
I imagine Anon will still have his knee-caps tomorrow. The dubious individuals...not so much.
I may not be able to, but I sure as hell can guess at least three logical outcomes from this foreshadowing. And dammit, I love your writing cuz I can't make a definitive answer as to which one.
>The safety of Car 44 ensured - or at least removed from your responsibility, you remember something else.
"So ... treehouse?
>Twi looks at you suddenly, then relaxes. "Oh. That. Have you ever heard of a 'memory castle'?"
"Uhhh. No."
>You bypass the last really dubious puddle in the alley and Twi pulls you into a left turn onto a sidewalk.
>"When I was growing up, Mom and Dad taught me how to build a mental framework so I could remember anything I wanted to. A 'castle of memory'. You make rooms and populate them with items that tie into certain memories and experiences. Mine was a treehouse. Probably because I always wanted one..."
>She lets that thought float there for a few blocks and a turn or two.
"Sounds neat. Sounds like it'd come in handy."
>"Remembering things?" She shrugs. "It does. Sometimes it means you can't 'un-remember' something bad though... here's there store."

>Sure enough, there's a Brite-Aid, open 24 hours and somewhat notorious for taking checks in this modern age.
>"We'll need to get a few things... and I need to free up cash for the motel room."
>You follow Twi around as she pulls this and that off shelves and into baskets.


>If Twi noticed that, or heard it, she has the decency not to mention it.
>You could swear she made a little 'snrk' sound when you suddenly seized up there.
>Anyway, toothbrushes, toothpaste. Shampoo and soap ("I've never stayed at this place so I have no idea if they have these...") along with a little thing of that hand-washing stuff people who wash delicate clothing items by hand have advertised at them on TV.
>You follow Twi around obediently, but when you get close to the register you duck toward the wall cooler and grab a six pack of that horrific green soda you drink and a six pack of cider.
>Twi looks at you quizzically.
"This soda is so I'm awake tomorrow. This cider is... uh... this has been a hell of a day."
>She nods. "True. I'll buy it, but I get half."
"Fair enough."

>Twi writes a check, then writes another check for a couple - no three - prepaid debit cards.
>The numbers on these checks: kinda big.
"How much *does* doing what you do pay anyway?"
>She looks a little smug. "More than I need to be comfortable and less than I need to be obnoxiously rich. But, if they-"
>That mysterious 'they' who are associated, maybe, with Flash Douchebag
>"-are able to track cars they may be able to track credit and debit card payments. Fortuantely, checks take a few days to show up on financial statements."
"I know, that's why people write bad che-"
>The cashier is giving you a look. Did you ever float a check here? Like back in community college?
"That's why *I HEAR* that some *BAD* people write bad checks. Which we are not."
>Cashierzilla subsides a little. She smiles at Twi and gives you the stink-eye as Twi successfully launders more money than you'd think she could into some pre-loaded debit cards.
>She leads you out of the drug store and down a couple more blocks to a Motel.
>You know it's a Motel because that's what it says.
>Close enough.
>Twi does all the talking and checking in, ("Yes, for the *full* night. Thank you.") and leaves one of the cards with the disinterested teenager at the front desk as collateral.
>You haul your current combined worldly possessions - the box from the statue, the bags from the drug store -
>- up a flight of stairs to room 20_
>This would be room 201 if a screw hadn't come out.

>Inside, the room is every bit as welcoming and cheerful as the outside.
>Which is to say... well, it's not in fire or anything.
>Or riddled with obvious vermin.
>Or plague.
>Or Ebola.
>Ok. It's a cheap hotel room. Your apartment's better, but not by much.
>You set things down on the vestigial 'dining table' next to the window as Twi suddenly goes over onto the bed with a 'NGH' sound.
>She makes a few more 'NGH' noises before she's able to uncurl enough to look up at you.
>"I'm... I'll be fine. Cramps."
"Wow. Sorry?"
>"Yes.... not as if I didn't have ... NGH ... enough on my mind. Felt them... coming..."
>Dang that looks rough. From where you are standing. A safe distance away.
>Get over it, cramps aren't contagious.
>"A-non... there's a bottle of extra strength Tylenol in the bag. Can you... get me three of those, one of the Excedrin Migraine... and one of those bottles of cider. NHH... please?"
>Ok. You can do that.
>Chevalier Blank mode: ENGAGE.
>You even get the top off the bottle of cider.
>She gets the pills and half the bottle into her with all due speed.
>You stand there like... a guy who has no idea what to do in this situation.
>"Just...gimme... a minute..."
>Over the space of 10 minutes Twi gradually uncurls.
>You fill the awkwardness by ordering a pizza and sending for more towels.
>Why are you sending for more towels?
>Because of one night in one relationship.
>One... awful... night.
>Forewarned is fore-supplied with clean towels not soaked in ANYTHING.

>Twi almost looks what you're going to call 'normal' by the time the 'za arrives.
>You make small talk while the two of you demolish your first meal in what feels like a day and a half but is really like seven or eight hours.
>Holy shit. What time is it?
>At least the TV works and it has free HBO
>Which ... well ok now that they have some good series on, some people watch.
>Right now it's ... Cannonball Run? Holy crap!
>Dom DeLouise, you comic genius! Captain Chaos! DUN DUN DUNNN!
>Twi is either enjoying the movie or enjoying watching you enjoy the movie.
>You make it all the way through the credits / blooper footage (dang Burt slapped Dom a LOT in that movie) before she says
>"I need to take... a hot bath... and we both need to sleep."
>Twi heads into the bathroom with the towels and... the ...
>You can say it.
>Come on.
>... was that so bad?

>Once the door is closed and Twi is doing girly bath things
>... you take inventory of the hotel room.
>Neither one of you has a charger.
>Your phone: 50%
>Twi's phone... locked... and 30%
>The room's security: Uh. Right.
>You lock the deadbolt, set the chain, close the curtains and, in a fit of pique, put a chair under the doorknob.
>You have no idea if that will work but you saw it in a movie once.
>You also carefully hang your jacket, your white oxford shirt, and your slacks up on three of the five hangers the MOT L has toughtfully provided.
>This leaves you in boxers and a t shirt.
>Because you wear a god damn t shirt under an oxford shirt
>Because you're not a heathen. And Uncle Enzo advised you to do so.
>The water stops running and little splashy sounds, mixed with 'woman getting into tub of water' sounds can be heard through the wall.
>Twi. In a tub.
>Down boy.
>Okay, at this point, you and it are too tired for anything to even vaguely begin happening.
>Also PADS.
>Oh yeah, you're at complete parade rest.
>The fact that you've HAD a couple - brief - relationships keeps things from going full RETREAT.
The time of the month cock block is a nice touch. Twilight should know better than to take tylonol with alcohol though...

>You hear some more splashing and some other... things... and the bathroom door opens.
>Out comes Twi wrapped in steam and a towel.
>And one for her hair.
>This is a not-unpleasant sight.
>No that's not your internal monologue, Twi is saying your name.

"Sorry. I was... thinking ... about... something. Yes. Hi."
>"You might want to take advantage of that bath while it's still hot."
>You try very hard to ask something which you don't want to ask.
>Oh god do you not want to ask.
>Oh god jesus mary joseph saint alfonso the patron saint of smelt fishermen you don't want to as-
>"The water is hot, and clean. I'm just cramping. Nothing... else... has happened yet.
"Oh fine! Okay! Sure!"
>"And leave me your t shirt, please."

>She gestures at the neatly folded clothing on the dresser. Which includes, you now notice, a bra.
>"I can't sleep in those things. I *can* sleep in a t shirt. You have the only one of those. So."
"Oh. Right. Makes... perfect sense."
>You're tired and unequipped to argue with PMT Twi in a towel.
>You shamble off to the bath, losing your shirt in the process.
>Twi was right.
>This bath: pretty damn good.
>So good you almost fall asleep in it.
>SPLASH oh yeah breathing water sucks right.
>You should get out of the tub. You do.
>You should dry off. You do.
>You should put your boxers back on.
>... you do.
>You brace yourself.
>You open the bathroom door.
>You find Twi sitting up in bed, hair loose around her, wearing your t shirt.

"Be with you in a minute. Heart just stopped. Aaaand... there it goes!"
>You walk back into the, uh, bedroom part of the room.
"So. I'll take the floor?"
>Twi gives you The Look. "There's no reason to do that. It's a king size bed. We'll hardly notice each other. There's also hardly any room on the floor and the bed looks cleaner than anything else. And *that* is terrifying in its own way."
>She gestures to the bed. "We both need sleep after the day we've had. Tomorrow morning, we'll look at the box and maybe make some sense of everything."
>You are suddenly way too tired to argue with her.
>You climb into bed.
>You both turn out the little lamps on either side of the enormous bed.
>You lie there for a while staring at the light on the smoke detector. Maybe she does, too.
why cant i avoid to imagine of uncle enzo looking exactly like one of the tweedle brothers from the wolf among us?...
mook needs food, badly!
pastebin's updated: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

I'ma gonna go kill food with my wallet.

more after lunch.

- mook
You know, its funny. The more I read about Uncle Enzo, the more I realize that, that is the kind of persona I've been building up for by godchildren.

Except you take away the Italian, add Russian and a hefty dose of appreciation for firearms.
But blood thinners and alcohol saves you money
>>Oh god jesus mary joseph saint alfonso the patron saint of smelt fishermen you don't want to as-

jesus fuck stuff came out of my nose in the middle of work...people are watching me giggle like an idiot, MAKE IT STOP!
To my knowledge tylonol(acetaminophen) is not a blood thinner, aspirin is but they are different chemicals (though excedrine contains both plus caffine). Both are unadvisableto take with alcohol. For that reason I take ibuprofen for all my pre and post hangover pain.
I don't know if having an eidetic memory is really compatible with having a "mind palace," but whatever
Think Reznov met Al Capone.

I'm a nice, honest man, surprisingly coming to be known as a polymath THANK YOU MOOK when such situations arise, with far, far more knowledge about explosives, firearms, and drug manufacturing than is considered normal, is all too well when dealing with unsavory types, with either speaking the language or physically, and speaks fluent Russian, German and French, or will soon be once he bothers to finish putting Rosetta Stone on his computer. Who also happens to have fine tastes in suits and pulls them off rather dashingly.

Its silly but holy hell is it great motivation to learn.

Sometimes, when it gets hard or difficult, I like to remember that I will help raise a generation of children who will grow up thinking old Uncle Colt with all the strange scars I have some sort of skin condition on my face so it looks like I have burn scars, my arms have numerous scars from my various camping trips and I have a faded circular scar that looks like a bullet wound, on my bicep, is some super secret spy who works for the government, teaches them how to use the guns good guys use, how to speak other languages and about other cool stuff.

Me and my best bud, the father, like to joke how if bring your father to school is still a thing in the future, we're going to have me go in instead. Its funny because I'm 6'6 and 275 pounds.

I look like the stereotypical Russian who wrestles bears for a living.

That's fucking great. I'll send you a double XXL Flannel shirt, a Saiga-308, and a ruskie hat to fit it perfectly.

I look like a husky Aztec-Nathan Explosion personally, except my face isn't nearly as defined as his. Think of his body double, that's kinda like me.
I don't need no Saiga.

Not when I have Zastava. Holy hell can the Serbs make good guns. Now if I could only get my hands on a VEPR 12.

But dude, dat Brendon Small,
Now I want to be you when I grow up.
Sadly, I'll just have to be me.
At least you've got your writing skills. You've got the typeface for print!
>The clock says 3am.
>Twi says "NGH" and little panting gasping sounds.
>She's curled up in a ball on the other side of the bed.
>You lie there for a couple more "NGH"s and oh shit is she crying?

>Okay. This could go really, really poorly.
>You half-slide, half-ootch across the vast expanse of bed toward her.
>When you get close enough that the mattress dents toward you, she flinches.
>"Oh... right... A...NGH... non. Sorry. Keeping you... awake... cramps..."
"Yeah I know. Uh. Can I help?"
>"Know how to perfNGH...perform a hysterectomy?"
>She laughs, shakily. "Sorry. Move a little. Rolling... over..."
>She flops over and in the half-light you get from the parking lot lights cutting through the inevitable gap in the cheap curtains, you see her go from bent into the shape of the letter G to the letter I.
>A very tense letter I.
>"Give me your hand, Anon..."
>You do, dubiously.
>She's on your left, and you gave her your right hand.
>She hits another NGH and yanks you over onto your side, putting your hand on her lower abdomen.
>She hisses - yeah, hisses - 'Push. Down. Here."
>Ok. You push.
>She makes a sound like... relief. A gasp and a sigh and a groan all at once. "Little more..."
>So you press a little more. Not 'Heimlich Maneuver' but, pretty firmly.
>You're rewarded by feeling the next cramp hit her. Everything under your hand tenses . "NGH!"
>Her shoulders come up from the bed, her knees come up, and if you hadn't been lying on your side you might have lost a tooth.
>Out of sheer instinct, you try rubbing a little.
>She exhales and somewhere in there a little moan happens and that's probably good, right?
>"Keep... doing... that..."
>Yes. Good. Okay. You can do this.
>She reaches down and puts her hand over yours, breathing slowly. You can feel her tummy rise and fall under your hand.
>Not a bad thing... really.
>Kinda nice aside from when she tries pulverizing your fingers when a cramp hits.
>This goes on for a while. You can't see how long because you're back's to the clock now.
>You realize you really don't care how long it goes on.
>Eventually she sighs - really deep, and rolls toward you, onto her tummy.
>Rather than let her pin your hand, you let her roll under your arm and rest your hand on her lower back.
>She makes a sound you translate as 'yes that's nice keep that there thank you.'.
>Lotta words for a little moan but you'll go with that.
>She scoots in a little closer to you.
>She somehow manages to trap one of your ankles under her calf.
>This is how you wind up falling asleep.
Be you and always be a better you the next day you wake up.

People dig people who know what they like. And at times, its best to not be smart but to know what you know.

Thats how I think of myself anyway. I may be smart in regards to firearm design and mechanical engineering, but my best bud, the father of said God Children, is one hell of a brilliant man and the only person I've ever met who's been able to not only understand the gibberish I spew when I have one hell of an idea, but be able to refine it from an idea into a working concept that I can use.

Maybe its because we've known each other since Kindergarten, who knows?

But life is too short to take seriously.

If writing is your fancy, fucking write like nobody's business and you will find yourself surrounded by those who are like you.

Thats what I did. I did my own thing. I took up foreign languages, I learned more about firearms than your average Military Armory Master, learned how to use them at least in theory, took every science course I could in HS and combined it with time looking at recipes I shouldn't have, on /k/, I took up writing because fuck if I didn't have skeletons in the closet, under the floor, in the back yard and the cats litter box, and decided that since every guy was wearing T-Shirts and shorts with every girl wearing Yoga Pants and Sweats, I'd wear suits, dress shirts and ties, just for shits and giggles.

Be what ever you want to be, dude. Life is far too short to not have fun with it. If people scorn you for the normal or strange shit you enjoy, well thats life. And then you die. If you enjoy human contact and being a productive member of society, balance the weird with more normal stuff and learn to hide your power level.

Life is not only a perception of your own reality, its a test of your diligence and will. You have all the tools you need in order to make yourself who you want to be, and see it unfold how you want it too, you just need to do it.
Fun fact: orgasms relieve cramps
is this common enough knowledge that Twilight would know about it
Well now that's just outright adorable. Top notch writing here.
if not, make twilight be aware of it
Probably? She spends her day reading and diddling, I'd assume they cross paths occassionally. Especially if her cramps keep her awake.
>She spends her day reading and diddling,
Except she seems to have a really nice career
Can someone give me a quick synopsis of what writemook's green is about? I haven't decided if I want to read it and I need convincing.
>twi shows up
>Wants to stay
>Anon is loser cab driver
>Allows it
>Finds out Twi is involved with some crazy corporate spionage shit
>Twi finds out Anon's involved with organised crime
>They drive around doing random shit for Twi until Anon ends up in the same bed as her pseudo-fingerbanging her
>eqg twilight finds out pony twilight has been there before
>anon gets involved
>shit is going down

extremely summarised synopsis
Let me explain.
No there is too much, let me sum up:
* Anon is a slacker with a bunch of part time jobs
* Sci Twi (who Anon hasn't seen since high school) shows up on his doorstep unannounced needing a place to spend the night
* She spends the night, then freaks out in the morning, which wrecks her glasses.
* Turns out her apartment and where she works has been tossed / attempted tossed by unknown types who want her research info
* One of Anon's gigs is town car driver (for a PERFECTLY LEGITIMATE BUSINESSMAN) so Twi 'rents' Anon's services to get to their old high school where a McGuffin that might explain all this freaky shit is hidden
* Person or persons unknown (but possibly connected to Flash Douchebag from high school) track them to the school. Evasion occurs
* Twi and Anon are holed up in a cheap ass Motel just as Twi's period hits. Anon attempts to do things to keep Twi from massacring him.

and here we are.

>Awake at the crack of...
>You try and twist your head toward the clock
>Awake at the crack of Ten.
>With a Twi curled right in behind you.
>You, sir, are the little spoon.
>Not that there's anything WRONG with that.
>Oh no. You could stay right there...

>You roll onto your other side.
>Twi, still apparently asleep, shifts back a little, then curls right into you again.
>Your left arm = Her pillow.
>Your legs = trapped
>This... this is pretty nice.

>Twi makes little happy sleeping Twi sounds as she settles in against you.
>and then she doesn't. Because she's suddenly awake.
>Awake and thrashing.
>Thrashing you, in fact.
>And kicking.
>[words to horrible to be repeated here]
so, he takes care of her and she kicks him in the dick?....k then..
>Now Twi is awake and standing next to the bed and you are the one curled up into a ball of pain going "NGH!"
>"Omigosh omigosh omigosh I am so sorry omigosh Anon are ..."
>At some point she gets ahold of herself, shoves the chair out of the way, goes out and comes back with a bucket of ice and makes an impromptu ice pack from the baggie they put in the bucket so they don't have to wash the bucket or something in cheap MOT L places.
>She starts to apply the icepack to the affected area but you stop her because an ice pack approaching at speed is possibly WORSE than what just happened.
>You take the icepack and... carefully, apply... until the pain stops being so appalling.
"good morning?"

>Twi settles on the bed next to you with that 'I want to but no that woudl be bad' body language you see sometimes when someone wants to help but...
>"Anonymous I am *so* sorry I woke up in a strange place and didn't remember where I was and why I was in bed with oh my gosh I am SO sorry it's been such a strange week and I was scared and I just just just"

>You have never been in a position before where you feel like you have to console and support someone who just went drunken master on your nads.

>You are now consoling and supporting a scared, crying, trembling woman who just went drunken master on your nads.
>Against all better judgement she winds up in your lap so you can hold onto her while she's crying and trembling and, this time, she doesn't try to maim you. Instead, she's putting fingernail marks in your shoulders from clinging.
>Probably 'ow' but mostly 'oh shit now what do I do?'
Well she did have night terrors or whatever last time we saw her sleeping.

Can't remember y'all forgot that.
>"H-hey Anon, yeah please j-just one night promise, thanks."
>Wake up in the morning and find your medicine cabinet cleaned out
'Scientist' my ass.
well this is not the 1st time something like this happends, she seems to have troubles with her mind in the mornings
>After a moment you try stroking her back and her hair and making little meaningless noises.
>This appears to help.
>This helps enough that she sags in against you and the two of you spend some time breathing and holding onto each other, with her head tucked into your chest and your chin resting - lightly - on her head.

>You completely forgot about the whole being bicycle kicked in the nads thing.
>Well, you're not *hurting* from that anymore.
>Twi gives a little full-body shiver and gently pushes your chin off her head, lifting her head to look up at you.
>"I'm sorry I kicked you."
"You've had a rough week."
>"I still regret doing it."
"I still regret being kicked."
>She makes a little 'heh' laugh. She just about says 'heh'.
>Literal Twi is Literal.
>"I... do you think we can start this morning over again? I won't do the screaming and kicking this time."
"Uh... sure."
>Twi walks around the bed and climbs in on the far side. This give you plenty of time to gracelessly flop over onto your side again, this time facing her.
>And grabbing a pillow and stuffing it down there. Just as a precaution.
>Twi looks down and giggles. "Fair enough."
>Twi with her hair down and scootching in against you (and the pillow) is... this is nice.
>Feels good.
>She smells pretty good too. Still.
>... oh. Woah. That particular situation has never smelled... this non-bad to you.
>Huh. Maybe you're still groggy from the tatsumaki to the groin.
>She rests one leg on a free part of the pillow. You flinch. She laughs.
>"It's okay, Anon. Your genitals are safe. Good morning?"
"Good morning. I'd ask how you were but -"
>"Emotionally fragile but holding together. Thank you for helping me last night."
>She catches herself and rolls her eyes - probably not at you.
>"Thank you for everything you've done for me since the night before last."

>All of that... happened over the space of maybe 24 hours.
>Iesu H Tap Dancing Xriste on a Peanut Butter Cookie.
"You're... welcome?

>Twi props herself up on one elbow, which makes your t-shirt - already sort of loose and drapey on her - drape in interesting ways.
>At ease, soldier. We'll review this when lives aren't in so much jeopardy.
>"Feel functional enough to eat something that's not the two slices of pizza left in the box?"
"How did y- memory. Right."
>"You're learning."
"You're educational."
>"You must be feeling better. You're being a smart-ass again."
"That's right - it takes more than a series of kicks to my nads to put me down for the count."
>She - this surprises you - reaches out and hugs you. Woman has quite the hug. You hug back because not doing so would be ungentlmanly and stuff.
>"All right. Let's get sorted out."
>She gets out of the bed far faster than you do.
>She gets dressed far faster than you do.
>You *do* get your t shirt back. Now it smells... like her. A little.
>No, not pervy at all.
>As you get your tie sorted out, she says, "And I think that now is the time to call the police."


Yes there's more. Things get even more complicated and feelish and weirdly sci-crime-thriller and maybe Anon gets lucky eventually.


Pastebin: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH
Anyone else been asked by reCAPTCHA to identify soup?

- mook
make this a "fo sho" and i´ll suck your dick
I've been asked to identify what I assumed to be a bakery. And I've gotten the soup one too.

I got it wrong.
Ill suck his dick anyway
i have got a lot of pizza and pie´s but not soup so far
i once got asked to find soup,it wouldn't let me post til i clicked on the image of the cereal aswell.
>Anyone else been asked by reCAPTCHA to identify soup?
Soup, steak, cake, burgers, sushi, and more.

Can't remember all the bullshit it's asked me to identify.
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>fowl creature
Christ, this is one of the better things I've read in awhile. Keep going, you do a good job at keeping me interested.
I'mma try,
Probably no more words till tomorrow. Lots of planning and outlining tonight.
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I await the next part with great anticipation.

>Pic unrelated
Echoing this. Got off the ride a while ago but check back every now and then for the greens. Normally nothing interests me but this one has me hooked.

So thanks, I think?
>got off the ride
I don't think so, Tim.
>Iesu H Tap Dancing Xriste on a Peanut Butter Cookie.
dafug nigger
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>got off the ride
I have some bad news for you
Doing this twice in a row would indicate that twi has been under duress for a long time, and that she has been evading flash's goons for more than just a day or two.
Would rather it not degenerate into one of those fics. Shit like that breaks my suspension of disbelief pretty hard, not to mention is a tired cliche on this board....
Flash. (Not that one) Fact:
Anon won 3rd place in a freestyle blasphemy competition

In a bar

You don,t wanna know what took 1st place
- mook
>this entire post
dafug nigger

Your explanation just makes me more confused
Hey writemook, I just wandered into this thread and read your entire story in about 30 minutes or so and I could barely get up to do something it was sooo good.
Anyway, just wanted to say that your story is actually amazing and you're a 9.9999999.../10 writefag. Nice work and I'm going to be stalking this thread forcefully.
It has been a while, wonder if writemook is done for the evening.
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You never know what "done for now" means with these writefags. These glorious, glorious writefags.
Bump go glorious leeda
Bump for awesome green
"You want to call the cops *now*?"
>Twi nods and reaches for her phone. "Now that I've had a little time to parse what's happened over the last four days."
>Four days?
>Oh yeah. Stalking. Attempted kidnapping. *Then* she came to you.
>Wow. This woman's seen some shit.

>Twi is fiddling with her phone. "30% I had a full charge this morning. And I haven't made any calls. Why-"
>You start to say something and Twi holds up a hand suddenly.
>She shakes her head.
>She points to her phone.
>She pops open the back cover, removes the battery, then stuffs the phone and battery into the little foil-lined bag your crazy bread came in.
>("You ordered pizza which has a crust. Why did you order bread *on top of that*?" "If you have to ask, Twi, you'll never understand.")
>She rolls the bag shut and very carefully puts it on the little table.
>She puts the ice bucket over that.
>When she turns to look at you, you're not entirely certain you ever want to see that look on her face again.
>She looks... stricken.
>"I. Am. An. Idiot."

"What? You're stressed, sure but -"
>She's smarter than you, so it takes longer for you to work out why she did what she did.
"Crap. Your phone."
>Twi sits down on the bed, hard. "I thought about vehicles, I thought about *financial records*... and my stupid *phone*..."
>You involuntarily take two steps back as she unleashes a torrent of profanity that would make Uncle Enzo's cousin, Vincent the Longshoreman, cringe and hide behind furniture.
>When she runs out of vile, vile things to say about herself and her phone and her intellect, you move in for damage control.

"Look, Twi - you've been through a hell of a week - *I* didn't think about your phone either so-"
>"YOU'RE not supposed to be a GENIUS! *I* *AM*!"
>She angrily yanks her glasses off her face... then very carefully puts them down on the little night table. Then buries her face in her hands.

>You take a knee in front of her and reach for her shoulders.
>She flinches - just a little, then leans against your hands.
>Then she leans against you in general and just flat lets go with the crying.
>This is not a pretty cry. '
>This is an ugly cry.
>This is the cry of a woman who's been holding her shit together for a long time and is now officially Not Holding Her Shit Together.
>You let her get your shirt all wet and... probably... other things...
>You stroke her hair and say make meaningless comfort sounds
>And you let her pummel your chest and back and get all that anger out
>You're durable enough. Hell, you've been beat up by professionals. This is easy.
>Eventually the flood subsides and she's making little sniffle-hic sounds against you.
>Somewhere in all this you're on the bed and she's in your lap again.
>This would be kinda sweet if there wasn't all this crying and life in danger crap going on.
>She rests her chin on your shoulder. You pet her back and, for some reason, play with her hair.
>She really does have neat hair. The way the light hits the different colors -
>- Later, dude. Being a good person here.
>"T-thank you... I ... didn't understand how much of that I've been... storing up."
>You absently hand her a little towel from the stack you had sent up last night because REASONS.
>She does things you don't need to watch - which is good, because she's still kinda propped up on your shoulder - then shifts to face you.
>She's not a total ugly cry mess, but she's got that 'just had a cry' look to her.
>Some part of you is going 'hey it wasn't ME!' in the back of your head. Because that's novel.

"You've had ... a lot to deal with."
>"I think I've ruined your shirt."
"Eh. I get a discount on dry cleaning."
>She tilts her head, then nods. "'Uncle' Enzo."
"Nah. I just get a lot of dry cleaning with the suit."
>Twi makes a little 'oh' sound and starts to climb out of your lap again.

"It doesn't hurt that the dry cleaner is a sister in law of Uncle Enzo but-"
>You get hit with a towel. Thankfully, she chose a clean towel.
>Well THAT broke the ice.

"So. Cops."
>Twi has her glasses on by the time you wrestle the towel from your face and verify that it is in fact clean.
>As you're dabbing at your shirt, she says, "Yes, but ... that phone isn't viable for reasons we both understand."
"So why not use my phone? It still dials the same. And I've only been involved for about a day. And my phone is unlisted. So."
>She nods and picks it up. After the usual 'how does someone else's phone work' talk. she dials a number.

>"Hello? Yes is Detective Sparkel in? Yes, I'll hold."
>Detective Sparkel?
>You mouth 'DETECTIVE SPARKEL' at Twi but apparently lip-reading isn't in her skill-set so she just shakes her head at you.

>"Hi Shiny. it's Twi. What?" She rolls her eyes, then says, "Sunshine lollipops ladybugs awake - happy now? Yes. Well, it *is* a sunshine lollipops situation... sort of." She interrupts the more urgent noises coming through the phone. " My apartment was broken into yesterday or the day before and I was almost abdu- No, no, no... I'm all right. I may be being watched... No I'm not at my place." She rattles off the address of the MOT L you're staying in. "Room 201. There may be someone watching... probably a dark grey four door sedan... Buick. The one I saw was 29Y-99B3... Yes, if you could come pick us up... yes *us*... I'll make introductions when you get here. Okay. Love you too, Shiny."

>"My brother, Detective Lance Sparkel. He's coming by to get us. He should be here in ten minutes. Less if he uses the siren."
>Her brother, the cop. Well ain't THAT just dandy?
>You finish dabbing your shirt more or less clean and get your jacket on. The tie goes into a pocket with your ... mask.... thingy.
>While you're doing that, Twi is fiddling with the box you picked up last night.
>Remember? Box? Statue? Weird shit?
>Oh yeah right.
>She's got it on the bed and is flipping it over, examing the corners and sides and so on.
>Just a brown wooden box, by all accounts. Without any handles, key holes or 'OPEN THIS PART' labels.

"So... the answers, or what that letter said were the answers... is in here?"
>"Maaaybe..." Twi taps various parts of the box, leaning in close to listen to it. "But... I need to open it to find out."

>You and Twi have a fun-filled six and a half minutes of messing with an increasingly obstinate box when there's a knock at the door.
>Anonymous, the Man of Action, is at the door first. And immediately shouldered aside by Twi.
>She has to go up on her toes to look through the peephole.
>That's kinda adorable.
>Stop that.
>She makes a little 'phew' sound and unlatches everything to let whoever's out there in.

>The whoever in question is a little taller than you, with the look of someone who started out gangly and filled out thanks to a LOT of PT.
>Do cops do PT?
>You did PT for a semester in ROTC.
>He comes into the room, gives you a hard look, then is leapt at by Twi from a distance of two feet.
>He catches her.
>Apparently he's had practice.
>"Princess - you all right?"
>... Princess?
>Twi nods and eases down from the hug. "I am, Shiny."
>... Shiny?
>She makes introductions, "Shiny, this is Anon. Anonymous, this is Detective Lance Sparkel. My big brother."
>Lance... Shiny... Detective Sparkel gives you a professional once-over. "Anonymous? I ... seem to recall an 'Anonymous' at Canterlot..."

>"Yes, he was in my graduating class."
>You nod and smile winningly at... Twi's cop brother.
>Det. Sparkel nods, "You remember a guy who only has one name."
>You have two initials too, but ... anyway.

>Before you can provide a witty rejoinder, Det. Sparkel's looking back out the still-open door at the parking lot.
>"I didn't see any cars matching your description, but I got a BOLO out for it anyway. Did you see the driver?"
>Twi is gathering up the grocery bags and pushes the box into your hands. "I saw two men, I can't tell you which one was driving... but there's a lot to this story and I'd feel better if we talked about it in a safer location."
>Det. Sparkel nods, "Gotcha. My car's the white one that almost doesn't look like an undercover police car."
>U B Anonymous.
>You are also sitting in the back of an undercover police car that couldn't be more of an undercover police car if it had 'UNDERCOVER POLICE CAR' spray painted on the side like that movie with Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines - Running Scared.
>Wow. You have got to get out more and stop watching movies on cable all day long.

>Twi and Shiny - Uh, Det. Sparkel are playing catch-up in the front seat.
>Leaving you in the back with all the stuff and an occasional interjection about what's happened so far.
>"And then Anon told me that he worked for Chariot Town Cars.."
>Det. Sparkel perks and half-turns to the back, "Chariot Town cars? And how's ol' Enzo doing?"
>Of course he'd know about Uncle Enzo.

"Eh, he gets by."
>"Is Enzo a person of interest, Lance?" Twi's put away the 'Shiny' nickname since you're talking business.
>Have to ask about that later.
>Det. Sparkel does a little shrug and cuts left toward the combination Courthouse and Police Station.
>"He's an interesting person, Twi... so far, nothing bad has ever stuck to him. He likes to say he's in 'semi-retirement in a quiet town.'"
>Memo to self: Det. Sparkel does a good Uncle Enzo impression.

>"So, he's *not* a mafio-"
"I've been *telling* you that Uncle Enzo is an entirely innocent party who has an above-average number of social and business contacts in the community, Twi."
>"He's right, sis. Enzo appears to be exactly what he appears to be. A man with a big family and access to a few favors here and there."
>"Oh. Well."
>And she believes her brother.
>Of course she would, that's her brother.

>Hey. You're in the back of a cop car and you're not under arrest. That's novel!
>"You're not under arrest yet, Anonymous... unless there's something you'd like to tell me."
>You have REALLY got to do SOMETHING about this 'speaking your mind' problem.
>Twi takes over before your mouth does something that causes you to be perp walked into the station.
>She wraps up the (edited to exclude crying jags, screaming, and cramps) story as Det. Sparkel pulls his blatantly unmarked undercover police car into the cop parking section of the parking lot.
>You're released from the back (uncuffed - YAY) and you and Twi are escorted to Detective Sparkel's desk.
>Twi gets a few greetings here and there ("Hey Princess!" "Lance! You didn't tell me your sister was HAWT!") and sat down at a desk which hasn't had it's writing surface exposed since the last national election.
>Detective Sparkel disposes of the most virulent of used coffee cups and shifts in his chair to face the two of you.
>"Ok. So you're being stalked by a party or parties who might be connected to ... Thomas Gentry ... who started dating you out of nowhere two months ago... and then your place got tossed and you've been trailed by - you said you saw the men trailing you?"
>Twi nods, and that causes Det. Sparkel to make a call and a guy with a sketchpad goes off with Twi into another room to work up some drawings.
>Det. Sparkel sits there and looks at you.
>You look at Det. Sparkel.
>He leans toward you.
>You'd flinch back but this chair appears to be bolted down.
>"So, Anonymous..."

"Anon. Or 'Non'. That's what people call me. Less formal."
>"Okaaaay... 'Non'..."
>"What isn't Twilight telling me?"
>He's giving you his best Understanding Cop look.
"... is this Detective Sparkel asking, or Lance Sparkel, Twi's protective big brother asking?"

>He drops the facade. At least a little. Maybe he always sits that upright.
>"Both, but mostly the big brother."


"She's been through a lot - home invasion, stalking, and this..." you hold up the bag formerly used for holding crazy bread, "is her phone. She pulled the battery out this morning when, after all the other evasive maneuvers she came up with, she realized they might be tracking her with it. That realization... wasn't pretty."
>He nods. "No, it wouldn't be. No one is tougher on Twilight than Twilight. When she makes a mistake she feels like she's let the universe down somehow."
>He reaches over and hits a few buttons on his phone. Someone answers. "Hey Giz, it's Lance. I got something for you to play with. Someone might have tapped my sister's phone. Yeah. I have no idea what model it is but the battery comes out. I've got it at my desk. Thanks. And log it into evide-" He hangs up. "Giz is on his way up here to check it out. Probably at a dead run."
>Giz makes it to Detective Sparkel's desk about the same time as Twi and the guy with the sketchpad return.
>If Giz wasn't running, he's asthmatic. Maybe both.
>Det. Sparkel hands off the bag to Giz, who makes the Detective sign some things ("Chain of evidence.") and takes off as fast as his highwater-pants can take him.
>The detective watches Giz run off. "We try to get him to calm down, and dress better... standards to maintain and all that." He shakes his head. "So, Ryan, how'd the sketch session go?"
>Ryan - the guy with the sketchpad, presents two drawings which... yeah. Just about look like the two guys you saw. "She kept telling me to move the eyes a millimeter to the left or right and -"
>"That's my sister. She likes accuracy." He turns to Twi. "Anything else you can think of? How they were dressed? Distinguishing features?"

>Twi closes her eyes and makes little gestures with one hand... "They... were wearing nondescript suits. Brown. I think... and ..." her eyes open. "They were both wearing blue nitrile gloves!"

"Two by two-"
>"Hands of Blue!" Det. Sparkel completes the thought.


"Okay, but if she whips out a sword and starts kicking butt I want a higher spot in the credits."
>Detective Sparkel laughs, "Just don't say anything about being a leaf on the wind and you're probably safe."


>You bro-fist Det. Sparkel without thinking about it.
>Det. Sparkel bro-fists back.
>Twi rolls her eyes and makes noises about boys and big brothers.
>Ryan the sketch artist, the only sane one here, leaves to take the sketches to the BOLO people.
>"Okay. Now that we've bonded over what really matters... Sis, what do you want us to do next? You can stay here..."
>Twi shakes her head. "No. I have to get to my office. There are some things I need to... analyze."
>If she was deliberately Not Looking At The Box any harder, it'd be highlighted with a floating caption next to it marked "McGuffin".
>Det. Spa- Lance. You can think of him as 'Lance' because he's One Of Us, right?
>Lance shrugs, "Okay. But if you were being shadowed at the motel, they probably followed us back here. And a building full of cops is a pretty safe place to be."
>"My equipment isn't here, though, and that's what I need to get to."

>Lance leans back in his chair and looks thoughtful, then hits a few more buttons on his phone.
>"This is Detective Sparkel. Is Officer Allis back from that thing? She is? Where? Well, when she's done, can you send her up to my desk? Got a little project she might enjoy."

>He hangs up. "You may want to get comfortable. This could take a little. while..." a thought occurs to him so obviously that there should be a "!" over his head. "Have you two eaten anything today?"
>"We have been... a little busy."
>"Well, there's pastries and Purina Cop Chow in the break room. And I need some coffee. C'mon."
... break time.

PASTEBIN AHOY: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

So now we have guys after Twi and Uncle Enzo and Twi's big brother the cop involved and a box and Anon hasn't had the rest of the cider he drank and can you drink alcoholic beverages in a police station?

more in a bit. Wanna stock up in case the weekend eats me alive

- mook
>"Two by two-"
>"Hands of Blue!"

Now I like you even more. You have my respect.


You are fuckin on it man.
File: se7en-gif.gif (427 KB, 500x279) Image search: [iqdb] [SauceNao] [Google]
427 KB, 500x279
I've got my guess
>In the break room.
>Donuts, of course, and "Purina Cop Chow" which translates into "Cheap Honor Bar Goodies".
>You drop a couple bucks into the money box on general 'not getting arrested' principals as you and Twi deplete the valuable resources of the local PD.
>Dang these are good donuts.
>So good even Twi is on her third.
>She is putting some serious donuts away.
>Considering all the running around you two did yesterday, pop tarts, a salad and 1/3 of a pizza isn't that much fuel.
>You're just about to ask where these wonderful donuts come from when someone joins the three of you in the break room, making a beeline straight for your table.

>"Hey Lance. What's this project you have for me?"
>Lance grins and stands up to make introductions. The person in question is female, slim, but holds herself like a MMA fighter.
>She's dressed in jeans and a beat to hell leather jacket over a tank top. The jacket is that color black leather gets after it's been black leather for a really, really long time. Brown hair pulled back into a utilitarian pony tail.
>"Twi... Anon... this is Office Cryssy Aliss, one of the best undercover officers I've ever met."
>Office Aliss tosses a little two finger scout salute, "Best damn undercover officer in the city."
>"It's not that big a city, Cryssy." Lance notes.
>Officer Aliss sticks her tongue out at him. It's pierced. Huh.

>With that bit of banter over, Lance explains. "This is my sister, Twi. Think you can do her?"

>Twi looks up sharply.
>"'Do' me?"
>Officer Aliss 'does' Twi.
>Let's just file THAT thought over THERE and put a rock on it for now.
>"Officer Aliss is very, very good at becoming other people. Twi, can you stand up for a sec?"
>Twi, dubious, stands. Still holding a half-eaten donut.
>Officer Aliss walks 3/4 around Twi, looking at her critically. "Y-e-s I think so. How good are we talking here?"
>"Twi's being shadowed by a couple of POI. They could be professional or just really enthusiastic part-timers.
>Officer Aliss perks, "Oh - a fox hunt? Sure. And you want Twi to look different, since two of her wandering around might attract attention."
>You're the only who notices a little twitch in Twi's mouth at that comment.
>Two 'Twilight's wandering around is the whole reason this is happening in the first place.
>Office Aliss turns to Twi and suddenly changes gears from 'cocky' to 'kind and non-threatening'. "Twi, can you come with me to 'wardrobe'. I need to ask you some questions so we can do this right..."
>Off they go.
>As they're leaving (hey - you can see Twi's backside without that lab coat for once) you think you see Officer Aliss's walk slowly changing to match Twi's.

"She's good."
>"She's really good. If anyone can mimic my little sis, it's going to be Cryssy." Lance notes. "If the subject's female, Cryssy is the best. If the subject's male... well... she's still pretty damn good."
>"Does this a lot, does she?"
>Lance nods and goes to get anothe cup of coffee. "Just got done with a six month project. Usually she'd be taking a month or two off to decompress, but ..."
"But when it's family..."

>Lance pours the coffee.
>Lance drinks the coffee.
>Lance pours some more coffee and comes to sit down again.
"Will Cry - Office Aliss mind?"
>Lance laughs a little. "This? Hell no. She loves messing with people and this 'fox hunt' is just the thing she'd do for a lark and a six pack. She enjoys messing with people." Lance takes another sip of coffee. "Boy does she enjoy messing with people."
>You're getting pretty good at interpreting the pauses when someone in the Sparkel/Sparkle family stops talking. There's a story behind that pause right there.
>You idly notice Lance has a wedding ring.
>"Huh? Oh yeah. My and Candy are going on six years now. When all this is over, we'll do a BBQ or something."
"Nothing like bonding over fire and burnt meat."
>Lance grins.
>You both make Tim Allen noises for a sec. Others in the break room look over, then shrug. Apparently this isn't uncommon with Lance.

>You talk over safe, non-challenging things. Like the fact that you're both kinda massive geeks.
>Five minutes are spent throwing reference quotes at each other.
>It's honestly not your fault that it got louder. You were being egged on by Lance.
>After a scathing glare from someone Lance referred to as "Boss", you both settle down.
>"You'll have to excuse my boss. He's getting to old for this shit."
>Thank god Officer Aliss and Twi are coming back.
>Looks like Twi found another lab coat and -
>That is not Twilight Sparkle.
>That's Officer Aliss. She's a little taller than Twi - not by much, but damn that is a good job.
>Twi looks like... not Twi. Ball cap. Big sunglasses. Jeans. Big stompy boots. And she's wearing Officer Aliss's leather jacket which makes her look... a different shape.

>Officer Aliss - now looking like Twi, does a little pirouette. "So? How's this?"
>Lance looks at her critically. "Pretty good. Plant your feet more when you walk. Like the universe is going to get out of your way because that's the way the universe should work so naturally it's going to do that."
>Twi glares at Lance (the sunglasses ruin it though), "Hey!"
>Officer Aliss purposefully walks back and forth across the break room and does a little 'tada' gesture.

"I'd think you were Twi except for one or two things."
>Officer Aliss cocks a hip and looks down at you. "Oh?"
>"For one thing, Twi is a big believer in upright posture. Take the roll out of your hips."
>Twi starts to say something, stops, shrugs. Officer Aliss takes another pass.
>"What do you think, little sis?"
>Twi takes off the sunglasses - she has her own glasses on under them. "She has enough of the same markers as I do when she's dressed like this to pass for me. Especially if my stalkers are keeping a distance."

>Lance gets up. "Right. Everybody back to my desk for official cop stuff."
>At Lance's desk, Lance goes through the offical cop stuff: Officer Aliss is to lead the alleged stalkers through the city, appearing to be preparing to flee town. She'll make a pass by your apartment, rummage in her car ("Which has probably already been rummaged through - sorry sis), then stop at her apartment where she will 'give a statement' to one of the uniforms on duty ("She'll call Murray before she heads out so there's no surprises on that end.") After that, she'll just wander and see what turns up.

>"I love this stuff," says Officer Aliss, "I call it 'trailing from in front'. If they're tracking me, they don't know I'm tracking *them*. They'll stay on my trail..."
>"Just as long as you know that if it gets too heavy - they've tried to grab Twi once - you bail."
>"Public spaces, lots of witnesses. And I have my radio."
>"Okay. Don't you be safe."
>Office Aliss rebuts, "Don't YOU be safe!"
>Running Scared reference.

>"Hey, the Anon guy knows his movies!"
"Said that out loud, did I, Officer?"
>"Cryssy, and yes."
>"I think it's cute. It's cute when Lance does it too."
>Lance looks uncomfortable. "I do not."
>"Yes you do, big bro."
>Officer Aliss says, "Lance, it's one of your more endearing traits. That and the look you got on your face when -"
>"We are *not* going to talk about that."
>"But it was your bachelor party and -"
>"We are *not* going to talk about that."
>"If I hadn't gotten the hair wrong you would have -"
>"Officer Aliss, we are *not* going to talk about that."
>"But your pants were -"

>Twi breaks this up with, "This conversation can continue without me... and Anon... what's the best way out of here toward my office?"
>Thankfully, Lance has an answer to this. He sends Officer Alyss ("Cryssy, hon. You can call me Cryssy.") out the front to look furtive while you and Twi head out the side entrance with some boxes.
>"You can load these boxes into the transport van that's there and just... leave. Oh hey - don't forget this thing."
>He hands the box you got from the statue to Twi. "This is the McGuffin, right?"
>Twi nods.
>"Gonna tell your big bro what's in it when you get it open?"
>"*If* I get it open."
>Lance gives Twi a side-hug. "When. I know you." He checks his watch. "Cryss- Officer Aliss should be a block or two on her way by now. If anything looks weird, call me."
>"... on what?"
>Lance starts. "Oh yeah. I have your phone in the lab. Well. Use Anon's phone. I have his number now."
>Lance smiles at you.
>That's not the Officer Sparkel "Serve and Protect" smile.
>That's the "Twi's Big Brother Who Knows Your Phone Number" smile.
pastebook updated http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

and hey, you can go check out the r63 "Barb" story going on over there in another thread. The anon who's writing it cited me as an inspiration... but you should read it anyway.

Would, but the divegrass is on.
>You and Twi "move some boxes" out to the unmarked, plain, not-at-all-a-cop van and casually ... depart.
>Nothing to see here, citizens. Move along.
>"If you keep looking behind yourself you're going to attract attention, Anon."

"Maybe I should put the mask back on, then?"
>Twi tries to give you a 'look' but it's ruined by not being able to see her eyebrow above the sunglass frames.

"So. Your office?"
>"Yes. I should have a new badge waiting and we can try looking at this box," she hefts the item in question, "in a few different ways."

>By your estimation, Twi's office is ... a ways from here.
>You pull out your phone. Hey, since you're already in it up to your eyebrows...
"Hey Megan, it's Anon. Can you - oh he *did* did he? Oh. Okay. We're coming up on..."
>You look at street signs and do some math.
"Henderson and 36th, on the Broadway side. Wow. Really? Okay. Yeah I'll drop - oh? All right then. Tell him I said 'thank you'."
"Uncle Enzo has been waiting to hear back from us and is sending a car to come get us. Should be - "
>That's Car 17. The jacked one.
>A low wall that walks like a man carefully emerges from the driver's side door.
>"Sup, Non?"
"Myron! Dude - thank you for coming out to get us."
>Myron - 5' x 4' and built like a small bomb shelter in an expertly tailored suit takes his chauffer's hat off and rubs the back of his head. "Uncle Enzo said he had a feeling you'd be needing a lift so he's had me driving around for a little while." He looks at Twi, then looks again. "This is the same client?"
>Myron whistles. "Couldn't tell. Um. Miss, you do understand that Anon here is still on the clock, right? Standard hours? Although once we go past 24 we shift to a more affordable 'daily' rate for the convenience of clientele who may need -"
>Twi breaks into the speil, gently, "I understand. I'll be needing Anon's ... services... for a few days, it appears. My own car is... out of service."
>Ohshit Twi's CAR.
>You hold up one hand and wrangle your phone with the other.
>Thankfully Detective Sparkel's number is still in 'history'.
>C'mon c'mon c'mon
>"Detective Sparkel."
>"Lance -it's Anon. Tell Officer Aliss not to worry about Twi's car. It's in safe hands."
>Pause. Cop shop noises in the background.
>"It's ... parked securely."

"Yessir. One of my coworkers went round and picked it up. It's with Chariot Town Car in the garage."
>"Put my sister on the line, please."
>Professional Cop Voice.

>You hand the phone over to Twi.
>"Yes? Lance... yes... yes I should have mentioned it but this has been - of course. Yes. Yeeees. Yes he's been. Shiiinnyyyyyyyyy.."
>The tone of voice little sisters the world over use to get big brothers to do what they want. Twi has it.
>"Of *course* I'll be safe and you know where that is so... all right. Just let Cryssy know so she doesn't... yes. Thank you. Love you too, Shiny."

>She hands the phone back to you.
>Shiny - uh, Lance - uh, Detective Sparkel has already hung up.

>"He's glad the car is secured but would prefer it was somewhere he can 'let the forensics guys at it'. Of course, if someone from Chariot drove it -"
>"All our fingerprints are on file with the DMV and local law enforcement, Miss," Myron. Always quick with the official spiel. Helps to be built like a short Hagrid.

>Myron hands you the keys and tucks his hat under his arm.
"Can I drop you anywhere?"
>He shakes his head with a rueful grin. "Nope. Uncle Enzo told me to get the car to you and walk back."
"Walk back? Dude, what did you *do*?"
>Myron leans in. It's like being loomed over from below.
>In a deep, ominous voice he stage-whispers, "Speeding ticket."
>You whistle.
"You're lucky he didn't -"
>"Yeah. I'll be washing cars for a month. Anyway, seeya, Non. Or..." he looks at Twi then nudges you hard enough to move you six inches. "A-non."
>Off he goes, the crowds parting like the Red Sea before a short but intimidating Moses.
>Let her inside
>Read with her, maybe do some science
>Discuss science and basic magic
>Take upstairs
>Tie down
It was good, until he was like "Well guys those 4 million posts were chapter one." I can only stand so fucking much.
>Built like a small bomb shelter
I don't know why but I busted a lung laughing at this. Mook, my day has been shitty but that cheered me up. Thanks
I spend far too much time looking for phrases that make me giggle. Then I inflict them on you magnificent bastards
>Car 17 runs like the Deliverator's car in Snow Crash.
>Sudden, abrupt, bewilderingly responsive and kinda scary.
>You're almost certain the gas pedal has a setting between 'none' and 'BANZAI' but you haven't found it yet.
>It's also fond of right-angle turns. REAL right-angle turns.
>Not drifts.
>Wheel twitch = BLAM you're pointed in another direction.
>By the time you swing around to the rear entrance of Twi's workplace, you're really, really ready to not be driving.
>For a month.
>Maybe one of those blue hand goons scratched the paint on Car 44 and this is Uncle Enzo's way of gently chastising you.

>You turn the car off and wait until your butt's unclenched enough to get out of it.
>Twi - who seems much calmer about the trip than you - eases herself out and waits for you to, well, recover.
>"That was ... brisk."
"That was terrifying."
>She winds up helping you out of the car. "It wasn't that bad."
"If anything happened to this car while I was behind the wheel, it would be that bad."
>She gently tugs you toward the door while you gibber.
"It would have been worse than that bad. It would have been so much more than THAT bad that we would need a new way to express how bad it was. It would be an Extinction Level Event, but very, very specific. All that would be left would be a pair of shiny shoes with smoke coming out of them-"
>A thought breaks you out of your downward doom spiral.

"Shiny. Why do you call your brother 'Shiny'?"
>Twi stops an takes off the sunglasses, regarding you though her regular ones.
>"If I tell you, it goes no further. Understand?"
>You decide not to mention that one of the cops called Lance 'Shiny' as you were going into the station.

>Twi leads you to the back entrance and up to the security desk.
>("Hiiiii, Brian! Oh *thank* you! Yes. Absolutely! Well, I wasn't planning on coming in today but I have a *consultant* here with me - Non, sign into the visitor's log please - and we'll be back in the lab for a couple of hours or so, o/`Thaaaaank youuuu o/`")
>And past rows and rows of cubicals.


>And into the more walled-off and security-card-reader-heavy part of the building.

>Twi "badges" herself through about four doors, gets a few comments ("Woah, casual Friday, Twi?") and leads you and the box (which you've been carrying since the parking lot but have been too terrified of Enzo / confused to notice) into a room marked LAB 3.
>LAB 3 has a big light bulb in a cage over the door.
>Once you're inside, Twi flips a latch and a light switch.
>Through a very tiny window, you see a BIG RED LIGHT go on. That'd be the light over the door.
>Twi... visibly relaxes.
>So much so that she shucks the jacket.
>So you see she's wearing a tank top.
>And no bra.
>No bra.

>You mentally slap yourself a few times and try to bring the conversation back on track.

"So.... 'Shiny'?"
>Twi blinks. "Oh. Yes."
>She leans against a table filled with SCIENCE OBJECTS... then gestures at it.
>You decide this means 'put the box here' rather than 'let's do glorious nasty things on this surface'.

>"My brother's full name is Lancelot Gawain Sparkle.. or 'Spar-kel'. The registrar mistyped his name on the birth certificate and - anyway."
>"He's been my best friend and protector from day one. He's my 'Kinght in Shining Armor'. He used to read stories about King Arthur to me when I was tiny. When I was able to start using words, the first word I said in reference to him was 'Shiny'. And it stuck."
"Aw. And you're 'Princess'?"
>She shakes her head. "All little girls, at one time or another, want to be a princess. *I* wanted to be a sky pirate princess, but my parents couldn't figure out how to get a toddler-safe airship."

>She gives you 0.24 of a Look. "So. How about you - Anonymous?"

>You decide that if she's taking off her jacket, so are you.
>You look around and realize there's no hanger here.
>Oh Uncle Enzo would be disappointed.
>You carefully fold it and put it over a chair.

"Short answer: Insane. Parents."

>Twi blinks. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Seriously. My parents... were crazy. A lot of people were around the time I was born. People got laden with stupid, pointless, 'clever' names -"
>You even make the air quotes around 'clever'
"Because some couple of yahoos wanted *their* kid to be a special goddamn snowflake. There's a bunch of us out there. YaHinezz; Feh-ma-lay - Spelled 'female'; ElRey; King; Queen; Prince - not all of them grow up to be rock stars.... we have an online club where we post our plans for revenge..."

>Twi shakes her head and makes the 'tsk' sound. With her hair pulled back like that, her pony tail sways kinda neat and in this light her hair looks almost pur-
>Twi starts. She might have even jumped a little.
>"Abrupt, but accurate..."
>She turns and moves the box more toward the center of the table, which, in those jeans. makes her butt

>Ok. Look. You're stressed and tired and clearly distracted by a woman you're spending a prolonged period of time with and you're finding her more and more attractive.
>Can you just get your shit together long enough to get through this?
>Do you NEED to find a cold shower? Or a taser?

>"If we make it through this, Anon, we can talk about celebrating."

>You have really, really, really, REALLY got to do something about this talking thing. Jesus.

>"If it helps, I am beginning to find it useful. Most men don't express what they're thinking at all. At least your muttering gives me clues as to where you are and what I should do. In this case..."
>Twi turns back to you.
>She pushes you back against the table.
>She reaches up and puts her arms around your shoulders and gives you a surprisingly tight hug.
>You feel her b- you feel her against you.
>You wind up hugging back. For a while.
>You realize she's up on her toes doing this and try bending a little at the waist.

>You both sigh at the same time, the chuckle a little at the same time.
"Yes. Box. McGuffin. Thingy. Ominous mysterious package from under a statue... how the heck did you open that thing anyway?"
>"The box - oh the statue. Well," Twi pushes her glasses up and begins with enthusiasm, "When I decided that the letter from Sunset was genuine I knew that she would come up with a way to conceal the secret compartment from most people while still leaving the access hatch available to someone who knew how to look for it. Fortunately, an intense investigation of the patterning of the marble on the east side of the statue base revealed very deliberate shapes in the veins in one specific part of the color spectrum."


>"While the pattern did not match any written language that was commonly used in the last fifteen centuries, it did have a deliberate pattern which was similar to, but not exactly like, Ancient Aramaic which was in use from 800 BCE to 600 AD. Once I knew that, it was just a matter of matching symbol to symbol and remembering the proper order in which they were presented - Alap, Beth, Gamal, Dalath, He and so on."


>You nod.
>She smiles. "And then it was just a simple sliding-tile puzzle. Nothing fancy, really."

>Twi smiles. Hey. A real smile. "I don't get to talk about things like this to too many people. My colleagues are all wrapped up in their own fields of study and, well... other people tend to suddenly have appointments..."
>She looks down at her boots. "... or job interviews or heart attacks or something..."

>You shrug.
"Some people can't see past the terminology to the really interesting part. Aramaic, huh? So was Sunset a-"
"Polymath like you?"
>Twi nods.
>"She was *really* smart, and *really* good with people. She said she had to learn to be kind the hard way - I asked her about that but she didn't like to talk about it, and neither did the rest of my friends."
"I remember hearing little fragments of gossip - I wasn't in the social center of things, you know... Stuff about the 'events' you found -"
>"- Which led me to transfer into Canterlot. Yes. And now, years later, here's a message in a bottle from ... wherever Sunset went."

>Twi squares her shoulders, then looks around. She walks over to a cabinet and pulls it open, then extracts a plastic and tyvek envelope from it. One quick tear later and she has a new lab coat in her hands.
>She shakes out the folds and puts it on, clipping her badge to it.
>This covers all the bits of her that have been distracting you, so it's probably a good thing.

>Twi stands up a little straighter. Seems her brother's not the only one who might have armor.
>"All right. Let's get into that box."

pastebin updated: http://pastebin.com/TwKJ6LvH

This weekend is NUTS. Three performances of the play I'm in and a variety show.
I cannot guarantee more words in any volume until Sunday night or Monday.

But I'll try. At the very least, I'll self-bump and maybe answer random questions that aren't obvious trolls over the weekend.

Thanks for the kind words. I'm enjoying the hell out of this.

keep circulating the tapes

- mook
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>>Officer Aliss says, "Lance, it's one of your more endearing traits. That and the look you got on your face when -"
>>"We are *not* going to talk about that."
>>"But it was your bachelor party and -"
>>"We are *not* going to talk about that."
>>"If I hadn't gotten the hair wrong you would have -"
>>"Officer Aliss, we are *not* going to talk about that."
>>"But your pants were -"
You're a good person, mook.
You have me engrossed, sir.

I look forward to more.
I have saved the pastebin, and have had this thread up since you started writing. I am also enjoying the hell out of this. Thank you so much for writing, Mook. I will keep this up myself as well.
nice story mook.


>fucking cryssy aliss
Page 8 bump
Absolutely based writefriend.
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I think uncle enzo looks like Danny Devito.
>Be Anon
>You wake up to a knock on the door
"Oh, Jesus..."
>You shuffle out of bed and to the front of your one story house
>You pull the door open and the evening light pours in, forcing you to cover your eyes
>When your eyes have adjusted, you are surprised to see Twilight from Physiology 101 standing in front of you
>"Hello, Anonymous. Can I spend the night in your house, please? Only one night and in the morning I'll leave."
>You are taken aback to see that her right glasses lens is broken, she's bruised, bleeding, and exhausted
>Once your mind comprehends what she asked, you reply
"Sure, of course."
>You let her in and close the door when no sooner she begins pushing your dad's old leather couch in front of your door
>With a confounded expression on your face that Twilight notices, all she says is

More?I'm new to writefagging and I would greatly being let known if I'm okay
Yes. YES. Either him or joe pesci fits the uncle enzo role
Only way to know for sure is if you post more, so git on it.

>"Just trust me, okay?"
>You decide to for now and you help her push the couch, since an egghead like her isn't in exactly the greatest shape
>Little pudgy, but not a ton
>Twilight's statement snaps you back into reality
>"Thanks for this, Anon. I wasn't sure if anyone would still have been in their homes after what happened, but I'm glad I checked here. I just need to stop for one night and then I promise I'll be out of your hair.
>More questions go through your mind
>What happened?
>Why are you beat up?
>Why are you pushing the couch?
>You decide to push these questions aside and pretend you know what's happening for now and take care of Twilight
"No problem. It's the least I can do for a friend in need. But, we should patch up those injuries on your face.
>"Oh, yes if you had something I could use to patch myself up that'd be great."
>Retrieving a first aid kit from your bathroom you stop the bleeding and you put a bandage over her bruises
>You weren't sure if that would help or not
>Anon Scouts was fairly boring most of the time
>She sits still and winces a little when you apply the bandage to her cheek
"Oh, I'm sorry"
>"It's fine. Thank you."

>Twi pushes the box further into the table and starts gathering all sorts of science looking things from cabinets and tables.
>You valiantly try to keep up, grabbing this and that as directed and putting things here and there, again, as directed.
>"All right, you," Twi addresses the box like an enemy. "Let's see what you're made of."
>You're told to throw this switch.
>You're asked to move this dial.
>At least once, you're advised to stand behind this thick sheet of plexiglass.
>Things go bing and click and ping and, in one case that made your hair stand on end, >BZART<
>Twi makes copious notes.
>The few times you look over her shoulder, you can't make heads nor tails of what she's written.
>Either you can't real SCIENCE or her handwriting is awful!
>Twi is muttering things about density and wood grain and carbon... something
>And chemical profiles and >FWOMF< ... resistance to flame and >wmmmmmZAP< high frequency lasers and
"Uh, Twi..."
>And handsaws and power drills and reciprocating saws and OPEN YOU STUPID PIECE OF
>You gently take the chainsaw from Twi before she does something unfortunate to someone.
>Probably you.
Based mook, you saved us!

"Twi - you seem..."
"... irritated."
>Twi turns on you angrily.
>She starts to say something, then catches herself and does that thing people do when they don't want to kill anyone but...
>"You're right, Anon. I am. We've been at this for hours and the only thing I know for certain is that it's made of wood and... I'm no closer to opening it than we were when we got it out of the statue.
>She picks up a yellow box and waves it vague at the wooden box. It goes "whrrrPING".
>"And that it's giving off a weak radioactive signal that I can't match to any known isotopes."

>You take a very slow step back from the table.
>Twi makes a "pff" sound. "It's not dangerous, Anon. Lots of things give off radiation and most of them are harmless."

>Twi starts to chuck the little yellow box, catches herself, and places the box carefully on the work table.
>"I'm sorry, Anon. I'm sure my period isn't helping my temper or ... making dealing with me any easier."
>Oh yeah.
"All the stuff you're dealing with... I'm surprised you haven't taken an axe to it..."
>Or to you.
"Or to me."
>Twi laughs, a short little "hah". "I... I'm sorry I got you into this, but I'm grateful that you haven't..."
"Run away?"
>"I was going to use different words, but yes. I dragged you into this and it doesn't appear to be getting any less complicated." She takes off her glasses and stares off toward the far wall. "I have... notes on all the events that led up to this... they're stored somewhere I *think* is safe... Once I saw how Gentry's behavior fit the classic 'stalker' profile I hid the-”
> o/~ Theme from Knight Rider o/~
>That'd be your phone.
now mook must sleeps
The good news - I can write and post from a tablet.

Bad news - tired & can only see the color blue

Wow. I just got it.
It's a music note.
Stay based Mook!
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White knight-story time?
this is pretty good so far, are you going to keep at it?
I'm assuming you have something in mind for the couch somehow
saving bump!
I want to know more about Lance and Cryssy's fling
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Nope. More like
>Bachelor party prank that almost went really wrong
Don't you mean, really right?
>You have some serious issues about being serious.
>"Anon this is Detective Sparkel - is Twi with you?"
>You look at Twi who is looking at you expectantly.
"Yeah - do you want to talk to her?"
>"You should both hear this."
"Ok, turning on speakerphone."
>Once you figure out how to do that, you say
"Ok Go."
>”Twi, this is Lance. I have an update on our little 'fox hunt'. Officer Aliss was accosted by two unknown individuals matching the description Twi provided -"
>"Is she alright?" Twi, worried.
>"She's fine - Office Aliss has a knack for escaping complicated situations... that she does..."
>Sparkel family ellipses detected
"So she got away?"
>Look at you and your big focus!
>"She did, with some hair follicles which we've sent upstate for a DNA scan. That'll take a couple days though and to be honest we don't expect too much unless they're already on file. The important part is that they may have seen through our ruse and if so-"
>Twi gets is. "If so I may be in danger as they're no longer trailing Officer Allis. Thanks, Lance."
>"Now we may have a lead on Gentry - we found some trace in your apartment -"

"Uh, Lance, some of that might be me."
>"We know, and we already have samples for elimination."

>Oh. Snacks at the cop shop... Clever.

"Okay. Any idea what-"

>>>>C R U M P<<<<

>That might have been the loudest thing you've ever heard, and you went to a Skinny Puppy concert once.
The undercover cop was accosted and didn't taze a bitch?
i was half expecting lance to say she beat the hell out of them myself.
>Somehow you're dragging Twi now, shouting about getting her lab coat off -
>Might be a little late for that -
>And struggling in your jacket for the keys to Car 17
>No time for niceties - Twi and everything gets shoved in the back and you execute a perfect hood slide to get to the drivers side,
>That's how amped you are - you just fucking SLID across THE HOOD of one of UNCLE ENZO'S CARS.
>Car 17 BLAMs out of the back parking lot - or maybe that was another explosion in the front lot
>Front lot?
>Twi's shouting something about something going up in the front of the building and emergency services and you're really preoccupied with keeping Car 17 from killing anyone - including you - and drive the hell out of there to...
>To where?
>"(muffled noises)phone!"
>"(louder muffled noises)PHONE!"
>Oh, phone.
>You one-hand the phone back into the passenger part of the car and barely miss becoming part of a Greyhound bus
>You have no idea where you're going other than "the FUCK away from there"
>The car horns are getting louder, as is Twi's voice.
>"...garble mumble explosion in the front parking lot of CRM and Anon mumble driving mutter safe garble don't know where we're headed -"
>You know where you're headed.


>Maybe that was a little loud. In an enclosed vehicle.
>"...Got that, big bro?"
>Your hearing has come back enough to permit you to recognize sarcasm.
>You swerve around, well, everything. Not intentionally. Car 17 is just a beast.
>Headed to the last "safe place" you know of.
>>Sunshine lollipops ladybugs awake

This is intentional, I assume?
Page 9 bump
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