Rythm and Groove - Artwork, Poetry and Prose of Lucky Star

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Offline Irgendein

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Reply #250 on: March 18, 2010, 12:38:14 AM
An Ode To Pornography

Today I took my porn folder
And printed it all out
And set fire to it
I laughed as the breasts burned
Wholesome!
Get some!
I'm so "feeling ya" on that one right now.



Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #251 on: March 18, 2010, 02:40:27 AM
[spoiler]It was at least midnight when the last bombs stopped falling on us. It was just like every other night: it starts with the sirens blaring, and the old man in the coat on the street shakes his bell, and the women and children and whatever men are left all line up and move down for shelter. You can hear the planes roaring overhead, tearing by as they swoop down for the kill, and the screech of the falling shells. When the dust settles and the smoke clears, you can see the ravaged remains of your house or your neighbour's, hope there are no bodies of those who didn't get out in time buried under the wood and rubble, thank God it wasn't you that got killed.

We have become used to this. It happens, if not every night, then at least once every week. The planes come and we hide and they drop their bombs and we emerge to see the damage. I asked Papa, before he left to fight, how long this would last. He said he did not know. Mama did not want him to go, but he said he had to. We'll win this war, he promised us, And when I come back, I'll buy you all sweets and a puppy and we can live happily ever after. My little brother Johan, still just a little boy, was delighted. I smiled, or pretended to smile, because I knew there was something Papa would not tell us. Be good for your mother, he said before he left, and gave us each a hug and a kiss and set off to fight.

I do not know who he is fighting. I asked Mama, but she would not tell me. Bad people, she said, Who are angry because they could not keep us down. Like dogs. There was a bitter tone to her voice, and I did not ask her again.

Bad people. Are people bad? I wondered. Papa is not a bad person. Mama is not a bad person. Am I a bad person? I don't think so. I think I am just normal. Not good, but normal. Are they bad people because they drop bombs on us? I heard a man say we drop bombs on them. Does that mean we are bad people, too?

It is four minutes past midnight and the planes have gone home. Mama releases us from her grasp, Johan and I, and we look at her. She is not looking at us, she is looking out and into nothing. I want to ask her why she seems sad, we're not the ones who died, but I stay quiet. Johan tugs lightly at her sleeve and asks if we can go back. She smiles, but it is not a happy smile, and says yes, we can.

The sirens stop wailing, the man in the coat with the bell grunts to himself and everybody with a house still standing goes home. We are lucky that we still have a house.

The next morning I am helping Mama in the kitchen cleaning the dishes. I am wearing my white apron, which I like, because it's clean and we do not have a lot of clean clothes. I decide to ask her again who Papa is fighting.

Mama, I say, Who is Papa fighting?

She says nothing for a moment. Then, Bad people.

I am not satisfied, so I ask, Who are these bad people?

She does not want to say. I ask her instead, Why are they bad people?

They are bad people, she explains, Because they don't want us causing trouble for them, when they are the ones who think we will cause them trouble.

I don't quite understand her, so I ask, Is that why we drop bombs on them?

She pauses again. She does not answer. Instead she asks me a question. She asks, Kristine, how old are you?

Sixteen, I say, because I am.

Yes, she says, Sixteen. A girl of your age should be learning to knit and cook and look after children, not ask silly questions. What about your brother, Johan? Who will look after him when I'm gone?

But Mama, I say, Why would you go anywhere? Do you have to go and fight like Papa?

No, she says, Only men have to go and fight.

Why? I ask.

That is their duty, she says, Their duty to their country and their people.

But why do they have to go and fight if we drop bombs on the bad people instead? And why do we drop bombs on the bad people if they are just going to turn around and do the same to us? Are they bad people because they drop bombs on us, when we drop bombs on them, too?

She does not answer. I say nothing.[/spoiler]

Unfinished.



Offline Irgendein

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Reply #252 on: March 18, 2010, 02:55:47 AM
Very nice so far. Just a guess; This takes place in the Battle of Britain?



Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #253 on: March 18, 2010, 03:02:20 AM
The other side.



Offline Irgendein

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Reply #254 on: March 18, 2010, 03:06:16 AM
Ah.

Although the names should have been a tip off for me.



Offline ST Jestah

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Reply #255 on: March 18, 2010, 04:08:21 AM
The Headless Angel

As if in some infernal dream, an eldritch nightmare conjured up by the foulest corners of the furthest reaches of my psyche, I bore witness to it. Words, being but human constructions, fail to express my feelings upon witnessing this travesty, this wretched abomination of reality. In that single insant, I felt a fear deeper and greater than anything ever felt by a mortal man, wanted to scream, desperately, but no sounds could break through and escape my petrified throat. I could only stare in the horror of all horrors at the twisted mockery of rational thought and evolution that stood before me. I will try my best to explain what I saw there and then:

It had the body of what I presumed to be an angel, though gaunt and emaciated, with gnarled bones clearly visible beneath the thin sheet of pale skin stretched out like tarp stretched across an ancient drum. It wore naught but a robe of silken cloth, so white and stunning as to be little more than a cruel jape contrasting the monster's grotesque features; it did not belong, and that made it all the worse in my own eyes. It had no head, that in particular struck me - and there was nothing in place of where a head should be. Not just an abscence of something, as is commonly thought to be nothing, but an absolute nothingess - an infinite pool of nothing sat where its head should be, upon the smooth, scarless stump that basely served for the creature's neck. I would have broken down and wept for how much nothing I could see (or not see; I am not sure), for it seemed to me a sick joke that so much nothingness could exist in one concentrated area; I did not know nothing had a form, but now I have seen it, and I will never forget the sight of nothing - unexplainable, but terrible nontheless. Terrible. Upon its back were many wings, many wings indeed; I counted eight, but although I could not bear to count more than that, something in the faintest recesses of my mind suggested that there were thousands more to be counted. Upon each one of them were a multitude of eyes, vaguely human, darting about frantically; thick, viscuous tears of a black, tar-like liquid were constantly secreted from them, dripping down and landing on the floor with the faintest of splashes. Each wing was spread outwards, perhaps in some form of evil parody of majesty, layered with ebony feathers, blacker than any black I ever thought possible to exist, darker than midnight; and in that brief moment I wondered how something could be so vastly dark whilst remaining so painfully visible. I was immediately dragged out of my desperate reverie by the sight of its arms.

Its arms were plentiful more than a man's, numbering six in total (unless there were other arms I failed to take into account, but I will assume for what is left of my sanity that there were no more); its legs numbered two, and all were unnaturally thin and sickly, as like the victim of a dread famine. Upon each of its gnawed, shrivelled hands, in the centre of the palms - for it held its palms out in front, as if to show me - it bore what seemed to be a mouth of some description; perfectly round and layered with tiny, shard-like fangs, too many to count, and in each mouth was yet another maw, each with its own row of teeth, and more, and more, seemingly going on forever and then some - an affront to logic and natural physics, for logic had no place in this madman's realm. I could see that each of its arms and legs was held in place by a long, rusted chain, each one fastened to a stone pillar, chipped, cracked and worn over the eons and eons I could only imagine this being had been trapped here. I could scarcely begin to imagine the length of time, for I did not know, but I wagered to myself it may have been an inconcievable length of time; perhaps since before time itself even existed. I could not help but feel a shred of remorse for this creature's endless plight, trapped here in this lightless dungeon for all eternity. However, this feeling quicky subsided, and was duly replaced by disgust and contempt. I have no idea why, but I cannot help but feel that if this being were ever to escape, it could bring about the end of the world. This potential future apocalypse must have been foreseen by whatever higher beings - and I dread to imagine them, so I will not, for the sake of what remains of my sanity - could possibly have seen fit to seal it down here. There is also the possibility it could be the saviour of our world, perhaps some sort of Messiah; but if you too could gaze upon the inexplicable abberation that I saw myself, this theory would quickly be dashed out and drowned under a sea of loathing and dread.

What I have just described is barely one-thousandth of the terrible nature of the being I saw. As I have said, words fail to describe my feelings for it, and indeed the sense of evil and revilement I could feel at ever microsecond I spent in its vile domain; a hundred new languages would have to be formed just to describe the depth of its infinite horror.

I only pray that this thing is never again seen by mortal eyes.
Ah, sweet and blissful insanity. You realize you've just inspired me, no?



Offline Dr. Wily II

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Reply #256 on: March 18, 2010, 04:15:08 AM
Woa at the Headless Angel.
I tried to imagine its form, but stopped halfway...

I lol'd at pron, and the unfinished one... I really like the last question that Kristine asked. Very true.

Ah, sweet and blissful insanity. You realize you've just inspired me, no?
OH GOD D:


I'm watching you all. Always watching.


Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #257 on: April 02, 2010, 02:22:45 AM
If you're reading this.

You just wasted several seconds of your life.

Several.

Seconds.

That.

You'll.

Never.

Get.

Back.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I own you now.

Cry for me.

Cry.

CRY.

Hahahahah.

Life is good.

IS THIS EVEN A POEM?



Offline Irgendein

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Reply #258 on: April 02, 2010, 02:26:03 AM
Those were some the best seconds I've ever wasted.



Offline Sniper X

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Reply #259 on: April 02, 2010, 11:20:06 AM
IS THIS EVEN A POEM?
My teacher said poems has no rules. So that is a poem.



Offline Rad Lionheart

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Reply #260 on: April 02, 2010, 11:22:30 AM
COOL POEM, BRO.



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Reply #261 on: April 02, 2010, 11:37:47 AM
Consider me impressed - that ending was a major twist!



Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #262 on: April 02, 2010, 12:16:42 PM
My teacher said poems has no rules. So that is a poem.

IT'S NOT A POEM UNLESS I PUT A TITLE ON IT. :C

COOL POEM, BRO.

I know, I worked so hard on it.

Okay but seriously.

Study of Rhyme

[spoiler]Tick tock
Spider clock
Daisy meadows
River rock
Mister man's
Foreign lands
Yellow jelly
Biscuit box
Come away
Here today
Endless rythm
Recursion blues
Kettle strummer
Monster hummer
Clipping acid
Silent tears
Aging years
Milkman flacid
Hilltop knock
Hula hoop
Fruity loop
Cracking knees
Lemon bees
Circus dreamer
Lightning streamer
Flaming dock
Landscape printer
Tuesday sprinter
Retcon alley
Turnip's galley
Hamlet's woe
Santa's snow
Ancient hair
Haunted bear
Trickle ickle
Messer's pickle
Putty crock
Ginger fleas
Spongey grass
Crumbly lock
Spitting trees
Crispy frock
Tock tick
Spider lick[/spoiler]

The Alphabet Forms a Broken Staircase

[spoiler]a
bb
ccc
dddd
eeeee
ffffff
ggggggg
hhhhhhhh
iiiiiiiii
jjjjjjjjjj
kkkkkkkkkkk
llllllllllll
mmmmmmmmmmmmm
nnnnnnnnnnnnnn
ooooooooooooooo
pppppppppppppppp
qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
sssssssssssssssssss
tttttttttttttttttttt
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz[/spoiler]



Offline Sniper X

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Reply #263 on: April 02, 2010, 12:32:24 PM
Study of Rhyme

[spoiler]Tick tock
Spider clock
Daisy meadows
River rock
Mister man's
Foreign lands
Yellow jelly
Biscuit box
Come away
Here today
Endless rythm
Recursion blues
Kettle strummer
Monster hummer
Clipping acid
Silent tears
Aging year
Milkman flacid
Hilltop knock
Hula hoop
Fruity loop
Cracking knees
Lemon bees
Circus dreamer
Lightning streamer
Flaming dock
Landscape printer
Tuesday sprinter
Retcon alley
Turnip's galley
Hamlet's woe
Santa's snow
Ancient hair
Haunted bear
Trickle ickle
Messer's pickle
Putty crock
Ginger fleas
Spongey grass
Crumbly lock
Spitting trees
Crispy frock
Tock tick
Spider lick[/spoiler]

Wow, this is wonderful.



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Reply #264 on: April 02, 2010, 12:42:48 PM
The Alphabet Forms a Broken Staircase

[spoiler]a
bb
ccc
dddd
eeeee
ffffff
ggggggg
hhhhhhhh
iiiiiiiii
jjjjjjjjjj
kkkkkkkkkkk
llllllllllll
mmmmmmmmmmmmm
nnnnnnnnnnnnnn
ooooooooooooooo
pppppppppppppppp
qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
sssssssssssssssssss
tttttttttttttttttttt
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz[/spoiler]
That's so absolutely beautiful - a true work of art. So great in fact, it's true worth of praise can't be put into mere words.



Offline borockman

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Reply #265 on: April 02, 2010, 01:33:28 PM
Study of Rhyme -> Beautifully done.


Proud member of Indigo tribe!



Offline Black Mage J

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Reply #266 on: April 02, 2010, 07:37:28 PM
Those are very free formed poems you got there.
Hippie



Offline Dr. Wily II

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Reply #267 on: April 04, 2010, 07:03:24 AM
Those few seconds were well spent. XD

Also, very nice rhyming, I hummed a bit while reading it.
And evil alphabets. EVIL.


I'm watching you all. Always watching.


Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #268 on: April 05, 2010, 08:41:14 PM
HAY GAIS I ROTE SUM YAOI

[spoiler]He looked around the room, trying to ascertain where his other half was. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but most prevalent of all was the nagging doubt in the back of his mind; this is a bad idea, it told him, a bad idea and you should be ashamed of yourself. He fought to cast these negative thoughts and emotions aside, or at least keep them at bay until his man arrived. He heard a short series of sounds like steps, and he knew it was him. He had come for him as promised.

"Honey, I'm home," the newcomer cooed warmly. He just sat on the bed and shuffled his feet nervously, trying to avoid making eye contact.

"Hi," he managed to mumble underneath his breath. He liked Azathoth as a friend, of course - it had been that way for as long as he could remember, eons and eons before the first stars were even born. He had never considered doing this, but Azathoth assured him it was perfectly fine.

"What's wrong, my little Cthulhu?" purred Azathoth, gently raising a tentacle and stroking it across his friend's facial region. Cthulhu looked away in embarassment.

"I'm not sure about this, Azathoth," he breathed, almost ashamed to say it.

"It's alright," said Azathoth comfortingly, "It's perfectly natural. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Cthulhu knew he could trust his old friend on anything, and yet still his mind protested. He skimmed furiously through his mind to find an excuse, any excuse, to avoid it.

"But...what if I become a vessel for your protoplasmic spawnlings?"

"That only happens to female Elder Gods, silly," teased Azathoth, "Besides, you're nothing like that [classy lady] Shub-Niggurath, with her thousand young..."

"I don't know," stammered Cthulhu hurriedly, "I mean, I like you, Azie, I like you a lot...but...as a friend, you know? I just don't think I'm ready for..."

Before he could say anything more, Azathoth was on top of him. Cthulhu's eyes widened with a strange mixture of dread and excitement; loathe as he was to admit it, he was actually quite excited about this, but he could barely bring himself to admit that even in his own thoughts.

"A-Azathoth..."

"Ssssssh," whispered Azathoth, allowing his manifold tendrils to slowly slide across the bed sheets and coil around Cthulhu's arms and chest. Cthulhu bit the lower fold of his feeding orifice sheepishly, nervous and yet eager at the same time.

Slowly but steadily, Azathoth began to rock back and forth atop Cthulhu, sinking his infinite tentacles into his mate's orifices, dripping with oozing moisture and hungry for loving. Gradually, he began to speed up - ever more and more, harder and harder, fiercer and fiercer, until at last he was writhing and convulsing atop the aquatic deity like a starved beast from beyond the stars.

Cthulhu could feel his hearts-rates increase and his temperature rise slowly in his body. These feelings were alien, even to a cosmic being such as himself; never before had he felt the strange yet undeniably thrilling rush of preternatural fluids to his reproductive organs, and yet as Azathoth continued to pound away on him, the feeling only increased. With every passing second, the pleasure became more and more irresistable and magnificent, until he could scarcely think to live without such bodily excitement.

"Oh, Azathoth! Oh, oh, oh," Cthulhu moaned, panting heavily while his big, strong, handsome, prototypically-abbhorent dominator thrashed atop him madly. The two extrastellar beings, caught in the voluptuous throes of their magnificent passion, wailed and cried out blasphemous cacophonies of sheer amorous delight, engaged in the most wondrous bout of libidinous insanity ever achieved by beings of their grotesque forms.

At last, Azathoth could hold it in no more; with one final elated shriek, he released his mellifluous ichor into every concievable orifice in Cthulhu's body. Gallons of thick, slimy, liquescent emanation of all imaginable colours - and them even some - poured out, drenching the bed and Azathoth's submissive mate in a sea of orgasmic glory. Both parties panted loudly and audibly, especially Azathoth, who let his exhausted tentacles return to his luminescent berth.

Cthulhu slowly sat up upon the the bedrest and managed a shy little smile.

"Thank you..."

Azathoth smiled back at him, and the two eldritch abominations shared a single, tender hug.

They were together.[/spoiler]

K LIEK ENJOY LOL



Offline Irgendein

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Reply #269 on: April 06, 2010, 02:18:56 AM
HAY GAIS I ROTE SUM YAOI

[spoiler]He looked around the room, trying to ascertain where his other half was. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but most prevalent of all was the nagging doubt in the back of his mind; this is a bad idea, it told him, a bad idea and you should be ashamed of yourself. He fought to cast these negative thoughts and emotions aside, or at least keep them at bay until his man arrived. He heard a short series of sounds like steps, and he knew it was him. He had come for him as promised.

"Honey, I'm home," the newcomer cooed warmly. He just sat on the bed and shuffled his feet nervously, trying to avoid making eye contact.

"Hi," he managed to mumble underneath his breath. He liked Azathoth as a friend, of course - it had been that way for as long as he could remember, eons and eons before the first stars were even born. He had never considered doing this, but Azathoth assured him it was perfectly fine.

"What's wrong, my little Cthulhu?" purred Azathoth, gently raising a tentacle and stroking it across his friend's facial region. Cthulhu looked away in embarassment.

"I'm not sure about this, Azathoth," he breathed, almost ashamed to say it.

"It's alright," said Azathoth comfortingly, "It's perfectly natural. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Cthulhu knew he could trust his old friend on anything, and yet still his mind protested. He skimmed furiously through his mind to find an excuse, any excuse, to avoid it.

"But...what if I become a vessel for your protoplasmic spawnlings?"

"That only happens to female Elder Gods, silly," teased Azathoth, "Besides, you're nothing like that [classy lady] Shub-Niggurath, with her thousand young..."

"I don't know," stammered Cthulhu hurriedly, "I mean, I like you, Azie, I like you a lot...but...as a friend, you know? I just don't think I'm ready for..."

Before he could say anything more, Azathoth was on top of him. Cthulhu's eyes widened with a strange mixture of dread and excitement; loathe as he was to admit it, he was actually quite excited about this, but he could barely bring himself to admit that even in his own thoughts.

"A-Azathoth..."

"Ssssssh," whispered Azathoth, allowing his manifold tendrils to slowly slide across the bed sheets and coil around Cthulhu's arms and chest. Cthulhu bit the lower fold of his feeding orifice sheepishly, nervous and yet eager at the same time.

Slowly but steadily, Azathoth began to rock back and forth atop Cthulhu, sinking his infinite tentacles into his mate's orifices, dripping with oozing moisture and hungry for loving. Gradually, he began to speed up - ever more and more, harder and harder, fiercer and fiercer, until at last he was writhing and convulsing atop the aquatic deity like a starved beast from beyond the stars.

Cthulhu could feel his hearts-rates increase and his temperature rise slowly in his body. These feelings were alien, even to a cosmic being such as himself; never before had he felt the strange yet undeniably thrilling rush of preternatural fluids to his reproductive organs, and yet as Azathoth continued to pound away on him, the feeling only increased. With every passing second, the pleasure became more and more irresistable and magnificent, until he could scarcely think to live without such bodily excitement.

"Oh, Azathoth! Oh, oh, oh," Cthulhu moaned, panting heavily while his big, strong, handsome, prototypically-abbhorent dominator thrashed atop him madly. The two extrastellar beings, caught in the voluptuous throes of their magnificent passion, wailed and cried out blasphemous cacophonies of sheer amorous delight, engaged in the most wondrous bout of libidinous insanity ever achieved by beings of their grotesque forms.

At last, Azathoth could hold it in no more; with one final elated shriek, he released his mellifluous ichor into every concievable orifice in Cthulhu's body. Gallons of thick, slimy, liquescent emanation of all imaginable colours - and them even some - poured out, drenching the bed and Azathoth's submissive mate in a sea of orgasmic glory. Both parties panted loudly and audibly, especially Azathoth, who let his exhausted tentacles return to his luminescent berth.

Cthulhu slowly sat up upon the the bedrest and managed a shy little smile.

"Thank you..."

Azathoth smiled back at him, and the two eldritch abominations shared a single, tender hug.

They were together.[/spoiler]

K LIEK ENJOY LOL
I.. I don't even.

THERE I COMMENTED.



Offline ST Jestah

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Reply #270 on: April 06, 2010, 04:48:39 PM
HAY GAIS I ROTE SUM YAOI

[spoiler]He looked around the room, trying to ascertain where his other half was. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but most prevalent of all was the nagging doubt in the back of his mind; this is a bad idea, it told him, a bad idea and you should be ashamed of yourself. He fought to cast these negative thoughts and emotions aside, or at least keep them at bay until his man arrived. He heard a short series of sounds like steps, and he knew it was him. He had come for him as promised.

"Honey, I'm home," the newcomer cooed warmly. He just sat on the bed and shuffled his feet nervously, trying to avoid making eye contact.

"Hi," he managed to mumble underneath his breath. He liked Azathoth as a friend, of course - it had been that way for as long as he could remember, eons and eons before the first stars were even born. He had never considered doing this, but Azathoth assured him it was perfectly fine.

"What's wrong, my little Cthulhu?" purred Azathoth, gently raising a tentacle and stroking it across his friend's facial region. Cthulhu looked away in embarassment.

"I'm not sure about this, Azathoth," he breathed, almost ashamed to say it.

"It's alright," said Azathoth comfortingly, "It's perfectly natural. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Cthulhu knew he could trust his old friend on anything, and yet still his mind protested. He skimmed furiously through his mind to find an excuse, any excuse, to avoid it.

"But...what if I become a vessel for your protoplasmic spawnlings?"

"That only happens to female Elder Gods, silly," teased Azathoth, "Besides, you're nothing like that [classy lady] Shub-Niggurath, with her thousand young..."

"I don't know," stammered Cthulhu hurriedly, "I mean, I like you, Azie, I like you a lot...but...as a friend, you know? I just don't think I'm ready for..."

Before he could say anything more, Azathoth was on top of him. Cthulhu's eyes widened with a strange mixture of dread and excitement; loathe as he was to admit it, he was actually quite excited about this, but he could barely bring himself to admit that even in his own thoughts.

"A-Azathoth..."

"Ssssssh," whispered Azathoth, allowing his manifold tendrils to slowly slide across the bed sheets and coil around Cthulhu's arms and chest. Cthulhu bit the lower fold of his feeding orifice sheepishly, nervous and yet eager at the same time.

Slowly but steadily, Azathoth began to rock back and forth atop Cthulhu, sinking his infinite tentacles into his mate's orifices, dripping with oozing moisture and hungry for loving. Gradually, he began to speed up - ever more and more, harder and harder, fiercer and fiercer, until at last he was writhing and convulsing atop the aquatic deity like a starved beast from beyond the stars.

Cthulhu could feel his hearts-rates increase and his temperature rise slowly in his body. These feelings were alien, even to a cosmic being such as himself; never before had he felt the strange yet undeniably thrilling rush of preternatural fluids to his reproductive organs, and yet as Azathoth continued to pound away on him, the feeling only increased. With every passing second, the pleasure became more and more irresistable and magnificent, until he could scarcely think to live without such bodily excitement.

"Oh, Azathoth! Oh, oh, oh," Cthulhu moaned, panting heavily while his big, strong, handsome, prototypically-abbhorent dominator thrashed atop him madly. The two extrastellar beings, caught in the voluptuous throes of their magnificent passion, wailed and cried out blasphemous cacophonies of sheer amorous delight, engaged in the most wondrous bout of libidinous insanity ever achieved by beings of their grotesque forms.

At last, Azathoth could hold it in no more; with one final elated shriek, he released his mellifluous ichor into every concievable orifice in Cthulhu's body. Gallons of thick, slimy, liquescent emanation of all imaginable colours - and them even some - poured out, drenching the bed and Azathoth's submissive mate in a sea of orgasmic glory. Both parties panted loudly and audibly, especially Azathoth, who let his exhausted tentacles return to his luminescent berth.

Cthulhu slowly sat up upon the the bedrest and managed a shy little smile.

"Thank you..."

Azathoth smiled back at him, and the two eldritch abominations shared a single, tender hug.

They were together.[/spoiler]

K LIEK ENJOY LOL
...*sniff* That was beautiful.

This calls for some fan art!



Offline Dr. Wily II

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Reply #271 on: April 09, 2010, 07:30:15 AM
*claps slowly... Before resulting in a standing ovation*
Just... Woa.


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Offline Mirby

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Reply #272 on: April 09, 2010, 08:16:17 PM
Hmmm....

OH [parasitic bomb] IM USING LINK AND I ACCIDENTALLY FINAL SMASHED A CUCCO OH GOD HELP
Just enjoy yourself, don't complain about everything


Offline Alice in Entropy

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Reply #273 on: April 12, 2010, 09:33:07 PM
[spoiler]Fing fingered the empty ashtray and scoured it for ashes, but it was empty, thus there were none. Fing sighed and rolled himself a cigar, dipped the tip in brandy, lit it up and smoked it with petulant pride. Klum sat opposite him, agitatedly fiddling his hands against the legs of the table. The clock made a tick tick tock sound in the background and Fing glared at it, thus it stopped the tick tick tock.

I suppose you'll be going back to the store soon, drolled Fing aloud, gazing at Klum on the opposite end of the opposite table in the room opposite the room opposite this one. Klum raised his eyes to meet his friend and shook his head with a shake shake shake motion.

No and nay and never, replied Klum, not until that damned thing leaves and returns no more.

Are you sure you're not just seeing things, queried Fing, puffing on his cigar and sipping his brandy, tipping the ashes into the ashtray which wasn't empty anymore.

If I see what I feel and feel what I see, then I see pain and feel despair, sighed Klum despondantly. Fing tipped the ashes in the ashtray into his mouth, took a sip of brandy, swilled the ashes around in his mouth and spat the whole lot back into the once more no longer empty ashtray.

Then, sir, you are mad.

I am not mad!

But you are.

I assure you I am not!

Then, mused Fing, prove it.

I shall, harumphed Klum with a haughty harumph, I have recorded all the sightings in my journal, which I will now go and fetch for you.

And so fetch it he did, with a fetch fetch fetch and a here here here.

Here here here! Look upon my writings and tell me I am mad!

Sir, you are indeed mad, said Fing, and pointed at the paper upon which there were no writings at all.

But that cannot be, spat Klum, it cannot be for I wrote everything down just the other night and then some before that and some after that!

Fing poured himself another glass of brandy and tipped his ashes into the glass, which he then gulped down in one swift go. His glass eye rolled around in its socket, with a rooooooooooooll and he smiled.

Then, sir, would you care to tell me what it is you saw with your own two eyes that you have on you?

Indeed and I shall, smugged Klum smugly, it was a long creature, about the length of a man's arm, longer than a cat but shorter than a snake, and it was a colour I know to be somewhere between orange and red, indeed it was of that very colour that I just said. There was many a spike along the thing's back, all turned upwards like your mustache just there, and it had claws too. Yes, these claws numbered how many umbers I cannot remember to number, but there were quite a few.

So, interjected Fing with his brandy and cigar, it was like a lizard?

No, droned Klum, nothing like a lizard, actually. It was more like...a thing.

A thing?

Yes, a thing. I know of no other words that could describe what I saw.

What else had it?

Eyes, many eyes, said Klum with truth and truthfulness in his voice of voices, and many more teeth than a man like you or I have. Indeed it had many eyes and many teeth. It coiled out from beneath my chair whenever it did appear and grinned at me, looking at me with all of its many eyes, and it was so grotesque a thing to behold that I immediately closed my eyes and when I opened them once more it was gone.

Gone?

Gone.

You, sir, laughed Fing with a laugh laugh laugh, are mad as the proverbial hatter.

I am not and indeed I am not, snapped Klum visciously. He stopped his nervous groping of the table legs and stood up from his seat. Now the clock started to go again, this time with a tock tock tick. Fing eyed his opposite man curiously and warily, dropping his cigar into his next glass of brandy and rooooooooooolling his glass eye around in his head.

You are a madman, chided Fing coldly, mad and mad and yet mad again!

I am not mad!

But you are! There is no thing!

There is, and indeed I saw it!

Liar! A madman and a liar you are!

Still your tongue!

I should shoot you with my gun here and now, you foolish madman!

Quiet, I say!

Fing, too, got to his feet and threw his glass of brandy from the table. You are a madman and an idiot, a fool and a madman is what you are!]

Klum could take no more. He screamed to drown out the chides and taunts of Fing, then like a madman indeed, ran and grabbed the poker from the fireplace.

A madman and yes indeed I am, cried Klum. Feng reached down with a reach for his gun to shoot Klum, but already it was too late. Klum drove the poker through Feng's body and Feng, with his last breath calling Klum a foolish madman, fell to the floor. His glass eye fell from his head and rolled forward to the feet of Klum, wielder of the bloody fireplace poker. When he saw what he himself had done indeed, Klum fell to his knees and wept.

I am a fool and a madman indeed, cried he.

The thing, coiling around the leg of the table, looked up and gave him a grotesque grin.

It was done.

A fool and a madman indeed.

Tock tock tick.[/spoiler]

Feh.



Offline Dr. Wily II

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Reply #274 on: April 13, 2010, 10:12:38 AM
That was a really fun read read read.
And this thing... This thing. D:


I'm watching you all. Always watching.