This is a riot

What’s SA? I hope it’s not something sexual.

A story about an alien child watching a dolphin commit SA on a fish and applauding. It was very weird, creepy and not even in line with the prompt.

This just gives me the giggles. Love it. Waiting for part 2

An adult sleep 6-8 hours a night. This means that if I got out of work at 4 PM. I could sleep until 10. Then we can go on the midnight monster bars. Then we could hang out until 5 AM before the sunlight hit, which we could hung out indoors before I got to get to work.

Sounded like a good plan for every night. But not tonight.

I almost forgot it was full moon tonight. But Scarlet remembered. It was our anniversary. I got us a reservation at Ping Aroma, the grand dinner place next to the river. Even asked them to provide for someone allergic to garlic.

I told her, all excited, just to see her face fell.

"It's your time of the month tonight. We can't" She said.

It was like a pan hitting me in the face. I was stunned. "But I-- but,"

"I think I'm going to the river walk alone while you deal with your problem," Scarlet said, "Barkley, I promise I'll make it up to you. You have to go to the safe room now. The moon's almost out."

I sighed. I took off my best dating clothes and folded them neatly, wrapped a modesty apron around my waist, and crawled into the metal ice chest in her garage.

"Are all these neccessary?" I asked, letting my brows drop and showcased my deep brown eyes. "I mean, I'd be a good boy, I promise."

"Last time you tried to eat the neighbor's pet rabbit," Scarlet said. "Good night Barkley, I'll let you out before sunup."

She said and closed the lid.

Maybe clarify the he in he's a werewolf and speech tag for comps left

Fantastic. It really felt like an episode!

An owl flew in as Dumbledore shuffled yet another stack of parchment on his heavy oak desk. There was just too much paper work left over from the whole incident with the chamber of secrets.

"Just leave it on the table..." He droned before gasping as the owl transformed into a dishevelled old man.

He jumped up instantly, grabbing his wand and readied himself to do battle.

"Animagus! Who are you and how did you breach my wards?!"

Radagast cast a disinterested look at the elder wand pointing threateningly in his face, before strolling over to the shimmering phoenix on its perch.

"Your master isn't winning any friends with that attitude"

"Answer me, you fool!"

"I go by the name of Aiwendil, tender of beasts, bird friend and yes, sometimes the fool. You can call me Radagast however. I think that's what you men seem to most commonly call me. Does that answer your question? " Radagast droned whilst smiling at Fawkes.

"And the wards?"

" Your wards were powerful. Very commendable indeed for a man of your stature. But really, they weren't designed to repel a being such as I. Not that ... "

"wait.. what are you? ", Dumbledore warily ventured. Gripping the elder wand just that little bit tighter.

" I'm an Istari. A Maia of Yavanna. But that's too much backstory. Just think of me as an emissary from a distant land who comes in peace. Take a seat we've much to talk about."

Dumbledore slumped over. It's been a long time since he'd felt so vulnerable, let alone in his office. His safe haven never felt so unsafe.

A thousand thoughts ran through his mind before being interrupted by the warm buttery sounds of Madam Rosmerta's best sloshing into some mugs conjured by this intrusive being.

" So, I've come to talk to you about a scheme I've been thinking of. See, we're about to be punted off to this place called Middle Earth. We're supposed to stop this dark lord you see. But we're bound by this nasty little restriction not to directly intervene with feats of power. I've found this splendid little loophole however. Our restriction only applies to Middle Earth... "

Radagast paused for a moment surveying the graven face of Dumbledore before finding it satisfactory.

"...I'm proposing a switcheroo" he finished.

" Why should I even entertain this scheme of yours? "

" Well, besides establishing a trusted alliance with a higher order of beings, we'd be able to fix your dark lord problem easy peasy, and our dark lord problem shouldn't be too difficult for you either... Come on have I drink and I'll fill you in. You'll be there and back again before you know it"

Dumbledore awoke next in darkness. A being of shadow lay dead beside him.

"What in Bertie Botts..."

"At ease old man, I Gwaihir the windlord will take you where you need to be. But first clothe yourself."

Dumbledore hurriedly dressed himself in the white robes handed to him. The words of Radagast echoed in his head.

" You are now Gandalf the White. Your task is but to create a distraction and ensure the dark lord keeps his gaze upon you. Limit your show of power to keep appearances but keep the king safe. Remember the King is Aragon son of Arathorn ... "

Gandalf sat up in a desk unfamiliar to him. Another one of the Fool's schemes it seems.

He should've known better than to trust drinking whatever it was that Radagast gave him. He eyed the crumpled note he found in his hand. But the letters seemed to dance around as his head pounded.

"Albie, you've some visitors from the Ministry of Magic." exclaimed a stern looking face that peeked in through the study door.

" You may let them in"

A pompous looking man strode in with an excessively puffed up chest. A tag on his chest simply read C. Fudge.

"Sleeping in the office again old man? Rest easy, the Ministry of Magic has it covered"

" Chocolate Fudge? " Gandalf blurted.

"Please don't. I don't care if you disrespect me. Just please respect my office." Fudge irritatedly exclaimed.

"Just sign this for our guards to protect your school and I'll be out of your way." He continued.

Gandalf sighed and scrawled the parchment handed to him. Eager to get all his visitors out so that he could read the note.

" That Fool...." He muttered under his breath

Radagast sighed as he chucked his palantir into a drawer full of baubles and trinkets.

His shed illuminated by a bird covered in flames.

" Well, that worked out better than expected. Now go back Fawkes. I'll need you to nudge Olorin in the right direction. "

" He needs to work fast before Manwë notices the discrepancy and binds his powers. With luck it'll all work out"

Thank you!

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The galactic council was in a turmoil.

The galaxy, for the most part, was a peaceful place. No wars, no violence (except for the humans, of course), general pacifism and brotherhood.

All of which has come to a standstill today.

The nbuurhh, an expansive and racist species, has taken a seed world hostage. They were demanding to be left alone, else they would kill all life on the seed world.

The nbuurhh couldn’t be left precisely become they pulled off shit like this all the time. And the galactic council wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t genocide every living thing on the seed world anyways even if they council gave in and agreed to all their demands.

Military intervention was not an option. The nbuurhh would see it coming and detonate their RIP bombs that would turn the seed world into an asteroid field.

For the nth time that day, Yhij, the president of the the council, rued the day he had taken up his position.

“Is there no other way?”

“No Sir”, his aide responded.

Yhij let out a bubble, his equivalent of deep disappointment: “Fine. Send in Joe the American to negotiate.”

The Nbuurhh were expecting a negotiator, however, they had clearly not expected a human. A hushed silence reigned as the burly, bearded human descended from his craft.

“Howdy” he growled, handing off his Stetson to high-prince Jjughub, second in line to the throne, who had come to receive the diplomat. He then took out a cigar, cut it with a cutter, lit it up and took a deep drag before letting out a massive volume of smoke.

“Aah” said Joe, satisfied. A claxon went of nearby as all nbuurhh men , women and children scampered to put on their gas masks.

Joe waited, unfazed, occasionally dragging on his cigar. Once they were done putting their gas masks on he followed high-prince Jjughub into the negotiation chamber where the High-emperor welcomed him.

Inside the sophisticated negotiation chamber, tiny but precise instruments were measuring every single thing that the human did and reporting it to the Royal family. When Joe, after putting out his cigar, withdrew a hip flask from his jacket and took a large swig, First consort Ttryuul fainted. The instruments had just told her that the human was drinking ethanol, a known toxic chemical about 4 times more stronger than the industrial spirits used on the nbuurhh homeworld.

Joe continued to remain unfazed.

More if this gets a good response.

That was a fun read!

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Oh no. A lot of people avoiding awkward conversations over there, I’m assuming?

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A nurse calls my name, I rise from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and give her a wave. She leads me to a triage room near the waiting room and closes the door.

“So, it sounds like you’re in for rabies exposure?” she asks as she takes my blood pressure.

“Yeah, I picked up a gal at the bar, went back to her place, we do some making out, and then she revealed that she was a Vampire. I did some googling and saw that bats are the primary rabies vector in this part of the world so I figured—“

“Better safe than sorry, huh?” She interrupts.

“Exactly. It’s embarrassing, but we did a lot of kissing and I know it’s transmitted via saliva so…you know.”

“I get it. Can never be too careful,” she says as she removes the cuff. “Blood pressure looks good. Alright, we’ll get you back to see a doctor as soon as we can. We’ll see what the doc recommends based on what you’ve told me.”

I sit in the waiting room for hours as more critical cases come and go—a leprechaun with a unicorn stab wound, a mermaid in the midst of an overdose, a vampire who vomited up drug blood not five feet from me—and I can’t blame them for their triage decisions, but I’m exhausted and starting to grow impatient.

After four hours of waiting, the doctor finally calls me back.

“So, rabies exposure?” she says. “Are you certain you were exposed?”

“Well, no. But I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I reply.

“I understand there was some heavy petting with a saucy vampiress?” she says with a wink.

“Make out session,” I reply.

“And you asked the gal if she was a carrier?” she asks.

“Well, no. Seemed awkward to ask,” I reply.

“Well that makes sense. Why ask a simple and reasonable question of an intimate partner when you can undergo a series of painful injections?” she says with a chuckle.

“You know how it goes,” I say. “I just—I like this girl and I know it is a bit insensitive to assume all vampires carry rabies, but I also know that some do and it would be bad if left untreated. Plus—“

“Fatal,” interrupts the doctor. “It would be 100% fatal if you were exposed and did not get vaccination treatment for rabies. Donezo. Horrible death too.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a doctor’s office and heard the word ‘fatal’ thrown around, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.

“Right…so that’s why I came in,” I say.

“Look. I get it,” she says. “I’ve been there. Hell, I myself have a thing for pale night walkers. I’ve personally been vaccinated so that I don’t have to worry about it either. There’s just something about a pasty man that can throw you around that—sorry, it’s been a long night.

“Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’ll get two injections tonight. One immunoglobulin injection that is human anti-bodies which will help jumpstart your immune response. The other is the rabies vaccine. Then you’ll return for three more vaccine doses over the next month.”

“Sounds great,” I reply.

“I should warn you though,” says the doctor, “the immunoglobulin that we inject is…a large shot. It goes in your ass and it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Oh, goody,” I say.

“Any questions?” she asks.

“Yeah, am I able to, you know, go out with this gal while I go through the course of treatment?”

“Oh, sure, sure. Even if she’s a carrier you should be fine to continue relations with her as we administer your vaccinations.”

What a relief it was to hear. I would be able to see her again soon. There’s playing hard to get and then there’s ghosting a gal for a month.

The doctor comes back into the room with the syringes ready to go.

“Ready, big guy?” she says.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been called, ‘big guy’ by a doctor who is your own age, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.

“Big guy?” I ask.

“Oh, ha,” she chuckles, “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Vlad here.”

“Vlad?” I ask.

“Yeah, the immunoglobulin syringe. We call it Vlad the Impaler because of, you know, vampires. That and it very much impales you.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say.

“He can’t help you here!” she says with a comical Transylvanian accent.

Then she impales my ass with Vlad.

The things I do for love.

r/InMyLife42Archive

>“Don’t be stupid. There’s no such thing as hobgoblins.”

"Common mistake, George! 'Hobgoblin' is actually a mispronunciation! It's supposed to be hobo goblin."

"So, what, you telling me to kidnap a homeless goblin?"

"I prefer the term 'adopt'."

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My dad used to say that my uncle Randy had a dial-up brain in a fiber optic world; I never thought that was fair.

Uncle Randy was dumber than that.

Dial-up connections were slow but they still provided you access to the limitless knowledge of the internet—the information superhighway was at your finger tips, you were just perpetually stuck in the right lane.

Uncle Randy, meanwhile, would be best characterized as a hitchhiker walking backwards down the middle lane of said superhighway, grinning with his thumbs up as the rest of us swerved around him (and I should be clear, this isn’t exactly a metaphor, uncle Randy actually was known to hitchhike by walking backwards down the middle of the highway—at least until some kindly truck driver disabused him of that notion).

While he was as thick as a cup of molasses, he was just as sweet. I remember one Thanksgiving I’d come home from college and Uncle Randy was the first to tell me he was so glad to have me home and that he was proud to be talking to the first man in our family to go to college. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was not the first and that not only had my dad gone to college, but so had grandpa Bart and my two older cousins who stood not five feet away from us shaking their heads.

Still, it was nice to be appreciated.

That Thanksgiving Uncle Randy, sweet man that he was, made sure to make room for me at the grown-up table. It was a big step for me. I got to listen on as the adults debated politics, religion and the like—you know, kitchen table issues. I sat there as my Grandpa and Dad debated the most recent Presidential scandal. I don’t remember what they said, because I wasn’t listening to them.

I was watching Uncle Randy.

He looked like a man sitting at the center line of a tennis match, his head bobbing between the head and foot of the table as Dad and Grandpa volleyed their respective generational ideals. Meanwhile I swear I could practically hear the squawk of the dial tone whirring inside Uncle Randy’s head. He was clearly thinking long and hard about something. Knowing Randy if he ever formulated his thought, whatever was going to come out was going to be a doozy.

Finally, success. He opened his mouth in that slack-jaw way he did just before he was going to drop some hard-earned insight. I swear I heard the words, “you’ve got mail,” echo from his mouth before he spoke.

“Now, Pops, Marv,” Uncle Randy began, “hold on a minute. I got a question.”

The cousins and I shared a look. My mom chuckled to herself as she upturned her wine glass. The whole table was thinking the same thing. This is gonna be good.

“Well, get on with it then,” said Grandpa impatiently.

“Well, I was just thinkin’,” Uncle Randy said rubbing his chin, ”wouldn’t cinnamon make more sense?”

Grandpa and Dad looked at each other with puzzled expressions. My mom nearly spit her wine on the table as she busted up laughing.

“Oh Randy, you’re too much,” Mom shouted as she slapped her knee.

Uncle Randy just looked at her confused. “Nah, I mean it Mary. You know as well as me that peach and mint ain’t gonna taste good together. I figure they outta mix some cinnamon in for good measure.”

Grandpa, figuring out what Uncle Randy meant simply turned to Grandma and said, “Where did we go wrong with this boy, Charlotte?”

“Oh be nice, Bart,” Grandma replied.

“No, I mean it! He thinks impeachment is a goddamn dessert. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

“Well, to be fair,” I said, “it would be pretty sweet!”

r/InMyLife42Archive

Gandalf strikes me as uninterested in education, although he'd curbstomp Voldemort.

Dumbledore canonically puts on cursed rings he ought not to.

This will not end well unless Gandalf trains Hogwarts as an army and leads them back to Middle Earth to confront a resurgent Sauron.

what did you read?

sadly resets the counter to "0 Days Since" as the violins swell, the tragic melody of the piano sweeping away dreams of one day seeing the counter rise above "1"