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Snicklin Since: Dec, 2010
#1: Mar 2nd 2011 at 6:39:14 AM

Yes. Write a little Creepypasta of the above the avatar. Maybe you could pretend that you were watching/playing/reading the work that that avatar is from when something strange, unusual and/or just outright terrifying occurs that the people that made the work simply could not have put into that game/book/movie/other without getting sent to an asylum. Think Squidward's Suicide or Ben Drowned.

Ready? Go!

edited 2nd Mar '11 10:26:48 AM by Snicklin

EuiliGojjekqtu Masster from The Guinea Islands Since: Feb, 2011 Relationship Status: In my bunk
Masster
#2: Mar 2nd 2011 at 9:35:30 AM

edited 2nd Mar '11 10:03:43 AM by EuiliGojjekqtu

"Historical knowledge doesn't matter because nature does not change. People do... culture does."
EuiliGojjekqtu Masster from The Guinea Islands Since: Feb, 2011 Relationship Status: In my bunk
Masster
#3: Mar 2nd 2011 at 10:03:49 AM

It started off as a normal day. An unusually normal day. I found myself pacing aimlessly, staring at a blank Word document on my computer. I pondered what might help this situation, this unsatisfactory loop of pacing.

As I usually do (and presumably what other people do, too) whenever I have nothing to occupy myself with, I opened the fridge. I looked confusedly upon a loaf of bread. Me, being allergic to gluten, would never have bought this. Moreover, if I weren't gluten intolerant, I would've kept it in the freezer rather than the fridge. I removed the loaf of bread from the fridge and examined it. I expected some sort of prank from my neighbor's kids; they would usually bake some dough over a balloon and leave it uncut. This seemed unlikely, as it was far too heavy.

My curiosity got the better of me. Expecting the worst, I cut the loaf of bread. Slowly, carefully, with a butter knife. I struck a hard object in the center, to my surprise and/or confusion. I removed the knife to find it covered in what was presumably raspberry jelly. I looked down at the bread and gaped in horror to find scarlet fluid spreading throughout it. I was unwilling to find what the source of this might be, but I, for whatever reason, decided to tear the loaf open.

There, before me, was a disemboweled human head. All traces of hair were removed. Its mouth was wide open, and its eyeballs were dislodged from the sockets.

I could not identify whose head it was-

-

Until I looked in a mirror-

edited 2nd Mar '11 10:09:56 AM by EuiliGojjekqtu

"Historical knowledge doesn't matter because nature does not change. People do... culture does."
Snicklin Since: Dec, 2010
#4: Mar 2nd 2011 at 3:14:08 PM

 .

edited 3rd Mar '11 12:37:08 PM by Snicklin

EuiliGojjekqtu Masster from The Guinea Islands Since: Feb, 2011 Relationship Status: In my bunk
Masster
#6: Mar 4th 2011 at 8:58:40 AM

"Historical knowledge doesn't matter because nature does not change. People do... culture does."
SantosLHalper The filidh that cam frae Skye from The Canterlot of the North Since: Aug, 2009
The filidh that cam frae Skye
#7: Mar 10th 2011 at 3:45:12 PM

<Insert the entire script of Salad Fingers here>

edited 10th Mar '11 3:45:49 PM by SantosLHalper

Halper's Law: as the length of an online discussion of minority groups increases, the probability of "SJW" or variations being used = 1.
arcada188 PINNACLE OF MAN from Bad Soldierdom Since: Apr, 2015
PINNACLE OF MAN
#8: Nov 27th 2015 at 12:40:45 AM

There's a legend. It tells the story of a horseman so valiant and chivalrous, that his code of honour and his idealism destroyed all rationality in his mind. The horseman, unfortunately, was born in the 19th century. Some psychotherapists noted that the horseman was unhinged and that his "acts" were a way to hide away memories of an abusive childhood.

The horseman would often go around and save "maidens", but what he believed to be the dragon was often the "maiden"'s well-meaning husband. The horseman, believing himself to be the hero who deserves love, would often force himself on the "maidens" he "saved", and sometimes the "maiden" would be something as simple as a scarecrow. He had several horses, coming from a rich family - however, he had no idea how to care about them, and, after they all ran away for him, starved and angry, he started to ride a stick horse he named Adelaide. Not even his armor was real - his helmet was a bucket and the rest of his armour was either wooden or, very rarely, copper.

After several of his "acts", he was hunted down by the police. Somehow, he escaped, without his armor or his stick horse. He still kidnapped maidens and still thought he was a valiant knight, but he hid in the woods, even more unhinged, and developed a taste for human flesh. Children and adults alike became terrified when, at night, they would hear rambling in Old English and nightmarish, almost sadistic gloating. The horseman would be known then as the Lincolnshire Manhunter, and, after almost 2 years, he was finally captured and executed. However, some people believe he survived. After his execution, several similar murders and kidnappings happened...

...wait...is that...WAIT! NO-

slash

...heheh...hehehhehe....heheheh...

I am a knight....i am a knight....a mighty knight, capable of stopping dragons...

...I'M COMING, MY DEAR MAIDEN!

edited 27th Nov '15 12:40:57 AM by arcada188

I am the most suitable partner for Gaia. I have some bad news. You will not make it to Eden. This is the end of your journey.
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