Welcome to Fanfic of the Week! Where you admit that you’re too lazy to do anything but troll people on GR. Finally a legitimate outlet for your creative impulses/delusions.
Subject: Beholder
Submit By: March 22, 2015 (When I make a poll)
Details: Do your worst! Write an epic fanfic involving Victim of the Week. This contest takes place in misc, not /b, so it has to be somewhat tasteful?
Winner Takes All!1!! (Choose next victim)
This was in the rules last time.
I know 
Last time I was at the bar, there was a lady in blue. I asked her if she was in her periods. “I see blood everywhere”, she said. My cousin yesterday gave me a call and said she was beside herself from all these pills. Sorry this letter is so short.
-Beholder
“Hey baby, what’s your mode becuase mine’s 7. Hmm… you seem a bit jumpy, are you… a sentinel…? What huh!? YOU ARE!? Ok… just so you know I just wasn’t about to bomb 'er arena.” Yeah…
we have a winner
There once was a Beholder who ate burritos.
He looked like a cup holder filled with cheetos.
He rose his fist to the air.
Screamed he did not care
That this poem by Hosler isn’t bonito
Sorry everybody
Beholder woke up with a start, after having a rather persistent recurring dream.
A dream that will never happen…
He got up out of his bed and went to do an internet.
While he was browsing he kept thinking back to his dream,
having an urge to check up on the reborns.
He shrugs “Why not, eh?” and thus he went to the forums.
“Let’s see, 7 npc server attempts… 4 bans… 542 unique visits… 5 birthd-”
He did a double take on the forums visits.
“Over 500 active members, today?!”
Being intrigued, he booted up the ol’ graal client and logged in.
There were a few servers, but one of them stuck out like a sore thumb.
One with 321 players. wut?
He decided to check it out.
There his lil fungsiyang stood in the middle of a plateau.
In the OSL. Of this odd server.
With a bunch of players idling and chatting.
A GP dressed in cyan notices and greets him.
“Hey, how’s it going? Wanna spar?”
Beholder agrees to such an activity and follows The silverware GP to the local spar arena.
It was filled with hyper-realistic corpses of men and weminz and ruzas.
The bomb is placed, the combatants stand in position, and the battle’s on.
“I’m a bit rusty, mind you. Haven’t played this game in a while.”
Spooon shrugs and starts advancing towards Him.
Beholder dodges the first slash and retaliates with a sidestrike.
Spooon cringes and starts going all out.
Beholder didn’t expect this and has his health going down to half a heart.
Time to get serious.
Beholder dodges every swipe.
He parrys to the left.
Spooon counters to the right.
He hits him in the neck.
He’s chopping off his head now…
Spooon has just decapitated the Sentinel!
Beholder woke up with a start, after having a rather persistent recurring dream.
A dream that will never happen…
He got up out of his bed.͔̖̱̝ͅ.͉̖͖.̷͔̟̤͔̮̤.̧̮̰̫̮̤̦ ̪̭̥̯͓̥ͅi̠̦̙̟̼͇ͅn̕t̷͕e̹͉͟r҉̼̰̯̺̖̰̮n̙͞e͕͇̫̼̰͠ͅt̘̼͎.
U͇̗̠͜r̤̺̗͓̟̫̬͜͠g̥͎̥͔̮͉̫e͏̪̥.̟̭̭̯͕̦͇̞ͅ.͏҉͍̗̀ͅ.̯̥͓͍͚̀͢"̵̢͖̯w̱̗̼̫̮̺͘h̸̼̤͍̺̙͕̕y̰͇̭̤̩͍ͅ ̣͠n̟̤͔̱͡o̮̭̳͚ͅṯ̳̯̤̗͚͝?̸̗̭͇̻"̲̼̫̣̺.҉̤̬͕.̛̭.̸̧̞̞ͅF̗̖͓̲̥̰͔͖͞o͚͈͇͎̜͘r̘̬u͓͇̦̖̬͙̰m҉̗̱͖s͚̘͉̥̺̩̳̲̘.̫͉͜͡.̰̥̪͘.͏̺̖͘
O̸̸̰̹̟̝̠͔̮͝v̡̳ȩ̺̝͍͘͟r̷̶̜̣͎̬̰͖̫ ̸͇̳͎̥̱͇͘3̦̖̭͓͟͜0̴̜͠ͅ0̷̧̗̝̕.͚̫͕̣̱͚.̵̨҉̟̩̪ͅw̛̩̖̦̹͘u̶̴͉̘͈̪̜͚t̴̩͈̳̬?̵̜̝̭̮̥͖̫̱͜͜.̫̯̥̤̦͎.̷̠̲̯̀͘.͖̘̹͠ͅc̵̞̝̘h͖͉͘e̸̼͓c͍͘k҉̩͇̙̰ ̷̷͍̻̫̖i̸̢̦̩̘͉̝̘͈̘̱͡t̛͏̬̘̮ ̭͕͓̩͔ǫ̷̲͖̳́ù̩͔͇̪̟̥̝̼t̶̙͍̳͓̣̖̖́.̶̳̙͈.̶̸̺̱̤̝̲͉̱ͅ.̢̞
M̷̢͚̺̰͍̩̻̠̠͚̰̩A҉̷̶̧̙̭̘͝K҉̨͏̭̞̼̮̜͖̳̦ͅE̶̡̛̥̙̯͔̦̣̻͎͙͇̠̩̝̜̮̖̺͝ͅI̵͙͈̜̼̙͓̳͎̠̹̼̘̯̙͔̠͎͜T̷̛͢͞҉̻̹̺̞S̪͈̙̱͔̗͈̟̥̠̞͖͘͝ͅT̴҉͏̠͔͈͖̣̹̙̗̥̙̟̪̝̗O̵̙̹̹̻͘P̵͉̰̦̼̼̗͟͡
̴̷̛̹̼̟̠̕͝I͏̴̻̞̰̬͍̮̗͜͟͡Ț̨̢̧̹̮̟̫̥̖̳̩͢ ̸̸̵̛̫̤̖̯̩̱̫̰́N̡̫͉̤̦̭̖̲͇̼̝̰͇̰̲̺̕͟͠È̡̳̭͎̹͚̦̞̤͉̩͕̱̘̖̹̼̝̕V̸̡͏̪̩͔̼̠̜̣̘̖̘̯̩̙̹͖͇͚È̡̩͍̥͉͔͓̀̀̕R̢̛̬͔̰̳̗̝͕̲̻̬̟̥͕̹̰̺̺͝ ̢̧̢̞̗̪̦͎͎̠͓͎̬̝͚͕̕Ȩ̸̡̖̠̻̦̻͓̺̮̟̠͚͖̰̣̦̙̹̙͎͜͡N̵̨̡̻͍̼͍̬̥͖̺̦̞͕̗D̨̨͍̫͖͔̖͔͕̤̹̱͢͡S̷̷̛̤͍̣̣̼̻̳̥̘̫͚̭͕͘͠
Beholder’s Temporal Croissant Adventure (This isn’t your ordinary H.G. Wells Novel!)
Beholder was an average american middle aged, middle classed “privileged cis gamergate scum who was also a super saiyan” white christian male who worked at the shoe factory 9am to 5pm and lived in an average middle class house in a middle class neighborhood in 1950’s south carolina suburbs.
It was a mild summer’s evening and Beholder was exhausted from a double shift gluing together american boots. He showered, shaved and went to bed.
When Beholder awoke he found himself in a strange land with strange short funny looking people, odd buildings and a foul stench so strong it knocked him off his feet! as he lay on the cobblestone one of the native creatures walks up to him and helps him to his feet.
Beholder looks up at the strange native who stood at about 5ft had freakishly big ears, large hooked nose and huge full lips like a clown, he wore khakis and a euro-style sweater-vest. Beholder said to the “guy” Thanks doc!, what happened? where am I? What’s going on?
Confused and not understanding the creature mumbled “que? bonjour monsuire! me name Stephane !, I do not knowns, this Marseilles France! me no goods english, you la francais?”.
Suddenly Beholder realizes he is no longer in his middle class murrican neighborhood, but is somewhere in the french land! Stephane smiles big and looks Beholder in the eyes, do no worries! I take care of you now! Comes to me! Beholder still confused and shocked from his sudden transportation and nowhere else to turn accepts Stephane’s “hospitality”.
Stephane takes Beholder by the hand and walks him to his apartment/office room. Auu huehuehue OUI OUI! you in France in EUROJOUEURSTOONSLABMMOLAND most magical place in all worlds! I AM INTERNET MAKER AND MMOS MASTER!
Being from the 1950’s Beholder naturally does not know what a computer, internet, mmo or anything else this frenchman speaks of. Beholder asks what is all of this? What is the date? Stephane replies, me not sures understand, it be sunday twenty second Marches, year 2015 ! You sure yous okay pal !? lay on futon I will bring you “medicine” make you feels real nice ;).
Beholder feeling dizzy and nauseated from his sudden time/place displacement, in a mental state of disbelief and confusion and the overwhelming french stenches, he reluctantly sits on Stephane’s futon. It is an old nasty white futon covered in brown streaks, odd stains and funny odors also pink iphones and phallic items lay all over the futon and the floor in the small studio apartment. Beholder asks “how did I get here?”.
Stephane replies do not knowns! found you on grounds! you look likes good new “partner” so I brings you home ! Beholder replies, thanks, but I only like women that way! Stephane exclaims, NO’S, YOU MISUNDERSTANDS I NO MEANS THAT WAY! I JUST WANT TO HELP YOU AND MAKE “GAMES FOR KIDS”!
Stephane walks back to Beholder with a bottle of wine and croissants. Stephane suddenly becomes twitchy and agitated, throws the croissants at Beholder and yells BAD GUYS LIKE VIPER TRY TO STEAL BREADS! YOU ARE EVIL GUY TO YOU TRY TO TAKE MY BREADS! I WILL CALL HENRI AND PUT YOU IN FRANCE JAIL! Beholder confusedly states “but you offered the croissants to me, I did not ask for anything!”
Stephane then runs into another room and slams the door. on the other side strange noises and crying can be heard. the crying then turns into grunting and moaning with the sound of other guys joining in… Beholder tries to leave but the doors are somehow locked from the outside. after several minutes Stephane emerges from the room with other odd teenage and middle aged men. Auuuhh heuehuehue OUIOUI! Me sorries for outburst, I consults with team and decides you be good replacement for Stefan ! do you knows mush of codings or computer?
Beholder responds, what were those noises? What were you guys doing? I am not from this place or time, I know nothing of computer, I make and repair shoes ! I only see thing like this at the masonic lodge funny mens club and only the not straight funnymen go there!
Stephane becomes increasingly angry. YOU DOS WHAT I WANT OR ELSES! NO WORRIES IT NOT HARD, JUST TAKE OTHER PEOPLE STUFF AND PUT MY NAME ON IT AND PLAY HIDE THE GERBIL WITH MY EUROTEAM YOU NO CHOICE!
Beholder is terrified, he sees an open window and runs to it. There is a fire escape on the building, Beholder desperately climbs down to the street below.
Stephane and the EUROTEAM give chase yelling FRENCH POLICE!, suddenly the FRENCH POLICE too are giving chase wielding rubbery dildo batons SHOUTING AUUUU OUIOUI ZE HALT MONSIEUR !
Then like zombies everyone on the street joins the chase after beholder, like a horde of zombies all shouting french stuff, all with the same french-creature template look, not one being taller than 5ft and even the women looking like men.
Beholder thinks to himself, DEAR GOD I’M GONNA DIE OR WORSE! he runs faster and longer than he ever had in his life.
He reaches the piers, the french stench is even worse than ever, beholder struggles to stay conscious while escaping the zombie horde.
Beholder reaches the end of the pier, surrounded, he has no choice but to jump in!
Beholder leaps into the ocean and loses consciousness.
He wakes up on the ground, he looks around to find he is outside of an abandoned building. The sign says “MASONIC NAMBLA OF RALEIGH”
he looks around to find the vehicles and people all look normal again.
He gets up and walks down the street, he finds himself soaked, sticky and smelly with an odd soreness in his bottom.
He reaches into his pants to find a pink iPhone, there is a text message on it, it says “you were funs guy ! call me 
- TheWallace”
He walks up to a newspaper stand to find that he is back in his own time.
Time passes and Beholder goes back to his normal routine, he eventually sells the iPhone to IBM for 1 million dollars and retires. The whole computer age and all technology is based on that iphone… the end?
:’( I tried ok!
Honestly tricxta’s fanfic made me laugh in a way I haven’t for years <3