Hi Folks, my name is Josh Scabbard, but people call me Commander Scabbard if they're talking to my face and Old Scabies if they're talking behind my back. Personally I don't really give a fuck what people call me, I've already lived longer than all of them, and I'll most likely just keep on doing that. They don't worry me. Now this is a sort of journal, the...
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 when involved in sexual situations. WARNING: This is a BDSM story tha...
Author's note: This is version 3. I edited it once for inconsistencies, continuity errors and really embarrassing editing mistakes, but I've since finished working out the world and its rules and its point, so now I've gone back to retcon things, basically. Or, to prevent myself having to retcon later. Or something. Original note: It's amusing when you no...
"I'm a Demon, taking out fiends is what I do," I said quietly as I sat across from the police detectives, in this cold 'interview' room, somewhere inside the Toronto Police Service headquarters. The two detectives, a burly, fifty-something white guy named Doyle Connors, and a slender, dark-haired Latina named Marissa Lopez, exchanged a smile and shook their...
Author's Note: I've got to admit to an oops/correction. Assuming you've already read the previous chapters, you might (or might not) notice that I have shortened the distance from Teclewt to Earth, from 97,000 light years down to 47,000. Why? Because I forgot to sanity check the 97,000 number when I started writing this story. The diameter of the Milky Way i...
Part one-Harriet's Troubles. Harriet Kono sat twisting the ends of her long black hair, an automatic reflex brought on by stress. Her grandmother told her millions of times that twisting her hair made her look nervous and twitchy. "Good paying companies don't hire nervous girls that twist their hair," Harriet said aloud in a stern mocking voice in imitati...
Once more, we thank you all for the years we’ve had, and hope this final week is the send-off The Far Plane and you players deserve. Here’s to future adventures! - Natasha Kane, Project Lead on ‘Amissa Mundo’ I stared at the headline in a paralyzing mix of nostalgia, sadness and shock. It had of course been years since I played The Far Plane, and almost as l...
TRANSCRIPT OF PENELOPE WALDEN'S ADDRESS TO THE MIT WOMEN IN SCIENCE STUDY GROUP, MARCH 22, 2009: Greetings, ladies! I can't tell you how gratified I am to be here with you today. And not because I simply like hearing myself talk, either. [laughter] No, I'm gratified to be in the presence of so many young women who, like me, share an interest in the sciences...
Ah, the life of a young brown Muslim woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. My name is Choukri Ali, and I was born in the neighborhood of Vanier to a Somali Muslim father, Ahmed Ali, and a Pakistani mother, Amina Khan. I'm used to people looking at me and my family. You don't see a lot of African Muslim men with South Asian wives, so my parents and I g...
Annie Stepford-Jones appeared and disappeared unnoticed. Her presence in the world was very small. Her skin was so pale it seemed even sunshine failed to notice her. She spoke always as if she was trying out the words, practicing what to say rather than really saying anything. If other women noticed her at all they commented on the dreary colors she wore and...