TwiLyghtSansSparkles

"The Sneetches"?

Um….The Lorax?

You know what I hate? Cyclists. Not just people who ride bicycles. There are plenty of perfectly nice people who happen to enjoy riding bikes, who recognize that their vehicles are smaller and slower than the cars whose road they share, and who exhibit the appropriate amount of caution. I like those people. They make sharing a road with a bike actually pleasant. However, the cyclists where I live are almost all like Jeff. These cyclists ride as close to the edge of the bike lane as they can—even when they're alone—forcing cars to either change lanes or slow down to accommodate them. They ride their bikes on barely-maintained county roads, where the "bike lane" is nothing more than a white line bordering dirt, forcing cars to change lanes illegally to get around them or, on mornings when those roads are clogged with parents taking their children to school, drop to an obscenely low speed until the cyclist deigns to turn onto a different road. And, of course, there are the races. Our city prides itself on being "bike-friendly." This means that they force drivers and the local police department to kowtow to the whims of Jeff and his ilk, blocking off entire lanes of traffic on busy roads so these cyclists can pedal by at the blistering speed of 15 miles per hour. The ordinary speed limit on this road is 50, but drivers, terrified of what wrath the cyclist mafia will encourage the cops to bring upon them, slow down to 40 or even 35. Residential streets aren't safe from this, either. When they want to hold a "distance classic" down the 45-mph two-lane thoroughfare near my house, the cops always give them right-of-way. And they don't travel in clusters—oh, no, that's for people who are not cyclists! They'll pour onto the road in groups of two, then three, then one straggler, then another straggler who wanted to enjoy the day, then another two. And they won't stop and let cars have right-of-way. Why should they? They are fit. They are righteous. Share the road.

It's okay now. The One is locked away in the old thread, and now we begin a thread with Savior Zero and his Prophet. (The One has clouded their minds! No one is safe….) She could probably still trap him in tar or cement. I don't know if he'd be able to snap out of that—he might—but it wouldn't reflect on her.

FernGully?

Her weapon of choice is acid, though. How would that interact with his PI?

"Keep your hands to yourself...oops, you don't have hands anymore. My bad." (Thanks. )

Shall we arrange a date with dark!Funtimes?

All this talk of buttons reminded me of an ancient web page for some reason.

I would not object to a sparkly rainbow mod-button. I would be the last person in the world to object to that.

The closest you'll get is this:

Maybe we should stop posting so many ponies and jokes…. …okay, okay, I'll be serious. I'll just get used to posting more threads.

You fools! Ten is one of the few numbers who has not sworn allegiance to the One! Ten is the very image of Savior Zero, with the Prophet leading the way! Why do you think the Financier, insane humble bearer of this wisdom, takes precisely ten seconds to return to life after resetting the clock by ten minutes? Ten shall have the next thread. And after that, his consort, Eleven. This will be a good couple of months weeks days.

And I thought my "met a guy who turned out to be a jerk, which you only learned after he'd thoroughly overstayed his welcome, so you dumped him only to have him write a bunch of nasty breakup songs about you and post them on Facebook, forcing you to block him for fear he'll use stuff on your profile to write more awful songs about you" was the most horrifying turn a young love story could take.

And new Funtimes post up. (We shall require a new thread soon, won't we?)

There was fear in his eyes as Funtimes' fingers tightened around his throat. He tried to kick, but he wasn't very good at it; just like he wasn't very good at picking weapons to face off against her. Lightwards would have known better. "Can't—breathe. You High Epics are all the same." No we're not you idiotbrain and if you say for one second that I'm the same as Soulflicker or Nighthound, I'll— He turned into a chess piece. Not an actual chess piece, made of plastic or wood, but a giant one made of flesh. A Queen, but she didn't care about that at the moment. All she cared was that his transformation had broken her grip, and now he'd ported out of the shop. Out of her hands. She wanted to scream and flail her arms and stamp her foot, but she knew she had to get that stupid chess Epic and screaming would do the opposite of what she wanted. Instead, she ported. It landed her in a shop across the street, an abandoned one with grimy windows pocked by a few raindrops from a beginning storm. Funtimes peered out and spied the same Epic, shaped like a Rook this time, porting down the street and away from her. ​He turns into a chess piece and moves like a chess piece. That is so…. ​…lame. Funtimes let him move down the now-empty street, let him change again and disappear around a corner and into an alley. She eyed the shop where he'd vanished and landed inside it. Another quick jump took her into the deserted alley, where she wrapped her arms around the stupid chess Epic and ported him inside again, where she spied a set of stairs and ported him into the basement. She didn't wait for him to change back before turning the floor beneath him, and six inches of the foundation beneath that, to tar. "I'm going to kill you." She circled him, adding another inch of tar just in case. "Tell me who sent you, and I'll make it quick. Try and run again, and you don't want to know what I'll do to you."

"Man, that priest freaks me out! I wish I could turn him into a zombie and make him eat all his friends! And…uh…all of my friends. Just eat everyone." "Man, that guy farting on the bus freaks me out! I wish I could turn him into a zombie and make him eat all the people and sandwiches on this bus! Including mine, I guess…." I can't decide which one is stranger.

What kind of flower was it?

I could be wrong, but my current theory is that Epic powers give them symbolic empowerment over their fears (i.e., the ability to deflect things and outrun mistakes to compensate for Newton's fear of disappointing others). I have no. earthly. idea how the ability to create cannibalistic zombies grants empowerment over a fear of flatulence. Me neither.

I would, but Corvallis will need a hero to take down Iconoclast.

No, Kobold. With an ability like that, he would be even more powerful than Metronome.

The ability to fart on command?

He once asked where the bathrooms were....but he did it in such a condescending way that most who heard it would want to pummel him.