|
Bad Seafood, please flash me like one of your animes.
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 09:29
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 18:49 |
|
|
If I have to pick an anime genre, I'm going for sci-fi/space with a little mecha tossed in because I have a love for giant robots that borders on the erotic. My best friend when I was a kid was a disabled Voltron figure. It only had one arm because one of the lions had broken its tail and therefore could no change into an arm. 
Screaming Idiot fucked around with this message at 11:01 on Jun 3, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 10:59
|
|
|
I found this wonderful oasis of inspiration and constructive criticism through the good samaritan C7ty1's helpful post in a seedier part of these forums. And now that you know who to blame for the imminent gushing of blood from your eyes, I can declare that I am in. Edit: Also, if you are one who flashes, flash me hard. Fuubi fucked around with this message at 12:36 on Jun 3, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 11:46
|
|
|
Ok now that I'm free from writing about a blind itch anime i feel a little relieved. I'll take Gag Anime and Grawlix (assigned via toxx)
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 12:56
|
|
|
Yes, anime, my nemesis. Can I get an anime flash rule if I already have one? E: anime is bad.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 13:02
|
|
|
after all this insane bullshit there's gonna be one (1) person who actually writes a story and after a brief conversation we'll declare it the loser gooooooo Thunderdome
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 13:09
|
|
|
Sitting Here posted:For fairness' sake, you can give newt a flashrule too NEWTESTLEPER: Your editor has called; times are tough and they've taken on brand endorsements to get by. Your entry must contain a prominent product placement for Subway that extols the virtues of Eating Fresh (tm) in a manner that is earnest, sincere, genuine, etc. and not snide at all.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 15:05
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:after all this insane bullshit there's gonna be one (1) person who actually writes a story and after a brief conversation we'll declare it the loser gooooooo Thunderdome
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 17:23
|
|
|
if you're thinking of bowing out this week, of being a disgusting miserable failure, of disappointing everybody, of admitting that you're actually a sack of poo poo who can't stick with their obligations, even when it's something enjoyable like writing: as a judge this week, i salute you. you're the real hero.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 17:29
|
|
|
crabrock posted:if you're thinking of bowing out this week, of being a disgusting miserable failure, of disappointing everybody, of admitting that you're actually a sack of poo poo who can't stick with their obligations, even when it's something enjoyable like writing: as a judge this week, i salute you. you're the real hero. I'd bow out, but I'm toxxed, so you're just going to have to read my lovely story by the spoonful.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 17:48
|
|
|
Don't listen to crabrock. Your stories are important to us. You are all very special. This is a safe space. Just have fun! And follow your heart.  14 hours until signups close We need one more signup to hit fifty(50) and save our esteemed crew of Friday OGs from some sort of terrible mean flashrule  Hopefully Bad Seafood will be around to hand out the rest of the anime flashrules. If not, I will assign them before signups close.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 18:02
|
|
|
Titus82 posted:
This worked well with my stupid anime story. And even then it was weird throwing it in.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 18:22
|
|
|
I'm in
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 18:36
|
|
|
 That's 50! Friday's flashrule will be up later. Signups are still open, FYI. Mainly because I hate crabrock and sebmojo from the bottom of my heart.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 18:50
|
|
|
SurreptitiousMuffin posted:btw Arivia by comparison to some of the other losers, you are a genius literary master. For shits, here are some of the classics: gently caress YES I'M IN THIS LIST. Kind of sad it wasn't my awesome Dancer's Death By Coat Hanger story. Oh - also - I'd SAY I'm in but I've failed consistently to turn anything in. I'll write the story before midnight tonight, (so I'll have the weekend to fix it). IF I get it written by midnight I'll say I'm in. That's my new rule to myself. Anybody okay with that? magnificent7 fucked around with this message at 19:07 on Jun 3, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 19:02
|
|
|
Brawl with sparksbloom: Retrieving The Graph (1,265 Words) “Let’s skip the bullshit and just admit we’re gonna betray each other.” This was one messed up Buddhist. I asked him, “Ain’t you people s’pposed to have morals?” “Better to get it out in the open, Pat. The moment we stop needing each other, we’ll try to take The Graph for ourselves. More money in it that way. I am under no illusions.” My name ain’t Pat. It’s Patriot Jefferson Davis McCloud, but Mauricio called me whatever he felt like. I done met my share a’ freaks drifting around doin’ jobs, but never one like him. Guy was some kinda Mexican, but said he didn’t speak no Spanish. Came from someplace called “Rio Degenerato,” or some poo poo, but he’d studied in Bangkok. Real pill that guy, but one thing I’ll say for him, the man could bust out Muay Thai something fierce. “Well poo poo, Mauricio, you might could be onta sumpthin’. Maybe I oughtta start tryn’a sit cross legged and pretend to fall asleep like you do. See what illusions I can dispel.” I sassed the guy, but at least he done me the courtesy of bein’ honest. Still, I was stewin’. Orders were return The Graph to the boss, not swipe it for our own selves. Anyhow, we passed ‘bout thirty or so Harleys parked in the lot. That I expected. Rest of it was filled with station wagons an’ poo poo, and I couldn’t figure why ‘till I saw the sign. “Daughters of the American Revolution Bingo Night – Hosted by Hell’s Angels.” We was gonna have more’n bikers to deal with, but I wasn’t about to hit no old ladies. Got to the entrance, saw six Angels smoking outside. Mauricio turns to me and says, “You deal with them. I need to meditate.” Had a good laugh at the sarcasm ‘til I saw his face. It wasn’t sarcasm. Zen boy set himself on the ground while I walked up to the bikers. One turned to his buddies and said, “Get a load of this.” Another whistled. “Members only,” said a third. When I walked past the first two, one of the others stiff-armed me in the chest. So I lifted my right heel and dug into an Angel behind me. Caught him hard in the back of the knee. Then a swift repeat on the left. Only four bikers left standing, but they came swinging. I sidestepped the first haymaker, then crouched low. Thing about bikers, most of them are old and fat. That means weak knees, and a more’n likely reluctance to bend the lower back. I propped myself up, my hands planted on the ground behind me. Then raised my legs and starting cuttin’ them at the knees. One, two of them dropped. Couple more circled ‘round me, like they was gonna boot me from behind. So I swept my leg around, tripped one, then the other. Only after they was all down did Mauricio stand up, scoop my wig off the ground, and hand it back. I didn’t even know it had slipped. A natural brunette, I didn’t choose blonde to match my five-o’clock shadow. Just feel prettier that way. Well, these bikers weren’t goin’ anywheres with busted knees. Problem was I should’a busted their mouths too. Mauricio and I walked into the bingo hall, and before the door shut behind us, one of them outside bikers shouted, “FIGHT! Don’t let ‘em near The Graph!” The room erupted. Old ladies clutched their pearls and wailed. I half expected the old birds to soil their Depends. The bikers, maybe twenty of them, stomped over from the bingo board, fists clenched. None of them fuckers was cute, which made it easier to smash them up. I decked the first one head on, then again for the next. The third was too fast. Caught me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, squeezing tighter all the while. Mauricio let out a call so loud, the room’s attention turned to him. He charged at the bikers. But instead of running straight through them, he pivoted and ran up the wall. Then he sprung himself off it, with his knee outstretched. That took out another three Angels or so. While my strangler was distracted, I grabbed his pinky finger and snapped it back, full force. He let off, and I pummeled the bastard ‘til he didn’t look human. Most the old ladies had run out the door by now, but a few of them went after Mauricio, swinging purses. He had his hands full with the Angels, but Zen boy knew how to maneuver. He kept spinnin’ round, smashing bikers with his elbows and knees. At one point this burly looking Angel caught his arm, so Mauricio knocked heads with him, put the guy right out. A couple more dirtbags charged me, so I grabbed a bingo table, held it against me and broadsided them. By that time, Mauricio had grappled the last biker to the ground. He pressed on the side of the guy’s neck ‘til he passed out. The couple old ladies that hadn’t fled were hitting Mauricio with their purses, but I could tell it wasn’t hurting him none. We brushed them off and made our way down a stairwell to the bar. The one old bartender there surrendered right off. That’s when I gazed upon it. Framed on the wall behind the bar, hung The Graph. “Hank Williams,” I read out loud. “Hooey, that’s one ‘spensive autograph. The boss is gonna be glad to get this one back.” I checked a mirror on a wall. “Hmm. All that fightin’ and I still look good.” Then I saw Mauricio’s reflection looming behind me. The guy was looking all bug eyed; he had this menacing kinda aspect. “Well, we gonna get this over with?” I shot an elbow back at Mauricio, but he dodged it. When I spun around to throw a punch, he backflipped away onto a pool table. I rushed the table, but quick as can be, the Mexican done picked up billiard balls and started lobbing them at my face. The third one crashed into my mouth, shattering a bunch of teeth on the way in. I spit, then reached up to the pool table, hoping to grab one of Mauricio’s feet. He raised his forearm up, elbow bent, and brought it straight down to clock me with a sharp one. Then he jumped to ground level, and spun around to knee me in the gut. I brought both arms around to guard my torso, then dropped to my knees in a daze. Mauricio turned, walked to the bar, hopped over it, and grabbed The Graph. Looked like I would have only one shot at this, so I removed a heel, focused real hard, and wound up. When Mauricio jumped back over the bar and started for the stairwell, I rocketed the heel smack dab into his groin. As he bent over, The Graph slid out his hand. The glass framing shattered, but the paper was intact. I slipped out of the other heel, then ran up to Mauricio. More’n likely broke the man’s jaw with the uppercut I landed. He was down for the count. I walked back to the mirror, Graph in hand. Felt sorry for myself over my face being so banged up. But when I reached into my bra and brought out my lipstick to paint myself real nice, I started to feel better. The boss was about to pay me one hell of a bonus. Figured I might could buy myself some ‘spensive new heels.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 19:10
|
|
|
magnificent7 posted:IF I get it written by midnight I'll say I'm in some people do this already. it's fine. just get in before signups close.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 19:23
|
|
|
crabrock posted:some people do this already. it's fine. just get in before signups close. magnificent7 fucked around with this message at 20:04 on Jun 3, 2016 |
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:02
|
|
|
just sign up u little baby
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:05
|
|
|
magnificent7 posted:But there's flashrules and poo poo. Should I just trudge forward and force my flashrule into the story after the fact? (Which I of course NEVER EVER do.) Yeah you can always fail, and just toxx the next time you write to make your problems go away.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:36
|
|
|
Marshmallow Blue posted:Yeah you can always fail, and just toxx the next time you write to make your problems go away. stop giving lovely advice and write, nerdlinger
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:39
|
|
|
dmboogie posted:stop giving lovely advice and write, nerdlinger dmboogie posted:gently caress, I've missed this bloodstained corner of the internet. Look who's calling the lovely advice kettle black.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:45
|
|
|
no, toxxing is the right thing to do. it's sayingMarshmallow Blue posted:Yeah you can always fail that blows. im fully aware of my status as a shitlord already tyvm
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 20:52
|
|
|
crabrock posted:if you're thinking of bowing out this week, of being a disgusting miserable failure, of disappointing everybody, of admitting that you're actually a sack of poo poo who can't stick with their obligations, even when it's something enjoyable like writing: as a judge this week, i salute you. you're the real hero.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:01
|
|
|
What the gently caress is anime
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:09
|
|
|
Tyrannosaurus posted:What the gently caress is anime bad
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:17
|
|
|
dmboogie posted:no, toxxing is the right thing to do. it's saying Yes not writing a story you said isn't good, but if real life gets in the way of your internet writing plans what exactly are you supposed to do? Not sign up because you might not have the time 2 days down the road is what I'm saying. Tyrannosaurus posted:What the gently caress is anime Just wait til you try to write it. 
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:18
|
|
|
flerp posted:bad A way for pedophiles to get their rocks off without going to jail
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:26
|
|
|
+25 words this week to anybody who doesn't post in this thread again until their story is submitted. (signups exempt)
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:36
|
|
|
not worth it
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:47
|
|
|
Don't need em. But I'll stop.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:50
|
|
|
Marshmallow Blue posted:Don't need em. But I'll stop. you're smart. you will get -25 words for every subsequent post until your story is submitted.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 21:55
|
|
|
Who needs 25 more words about anime? You're welcome 1275
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 22:02
|
|
|
Marshmallow Blue posted:Who needs 25 more words about anime? You're welcome Upping the ante, it's -500 per non story post from me your p tiresome imo
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 22:51
|
|
|
brawl with Jitzu Two-Cross 1,495 words It was hard to see in the tree-filtered moonlight, but Wilcox and the young smuggler, Niko, made their way down into the gorge, stepping gingerly around the loose rocks. It had taken a lean couple months for Wilcox to attempt something this risky, but there were better, more trusted hired guns in these rough parts. Every few minutes, the fear struck Wilcox that maybe someone had followed the two of them. Perhaps Two-Cross Clancy’s network of brigands had spotted their sad little dinghy from afar, and his men were littering the dark place in the gorge, ready to lunge. But Niko was confident they hadn’t been followed. “ You’ve got to trust me,” Niko said, squeezing Wilcox’s hand. “The light’s bad tonight. No one could have seen us.” “Fine,” Wilcox whispered. He noticed the narrowing walls of the gorge, and he knelt down and squinted at the inky forms of rock. There’s be no way to find Two-Cross’s cave without an annoying level of trial-and-error. The two of them scrambled down a steep outcropping, but Wilcox slid on a slick rock, twisted his ankle hard, and scraped his elbow against an exposed stone edge. His gun clattered down the rocks, out of sight. Wilcox swore under his breath. Niko hurried over and put a hand on Wilcox’s back, helping him out. “You’re all right?” “Hurts like a motherfucker,” Wilcox said, “but I can walk, it’s fine.” He rose to his feet with Niko’s help, his foot erupting with pain as soon as he put his weight on it. Niko offered his shoulder to Wilcox, but Wilcox pushed him away, sucking his teeth. “I’m fine. Take care of yourself.” They searched in silence for what felt like hours. Along the steep cliff, the two of them felt around, shifting rocks, and digging about for the narrow crawlspace where Two-Cross had stashed the treasure. But in the dark the process was slow, and with the ankle injury, Wilcox spent most of the search on his knees. The moon dimmed behind a cloud, smothering the faint light that had sustained their search so far. “gently caress it,” Niko said, “we’re turning on the lantern.” “We’re not,” Wilcox said. “We’re patient. Smarter than that.” “There’s no way we were followed,” Niko said. “But if we keep groping around here, the sun’s going to catch us on the way back. And you’re going to slow us down with that foot.” Wilcox’s ankle twinged. “Fine,” Wilcox said. “Your way. We’ll get our bearings, and then we’ll snuff it out.” Niko lit the lantern, and the cliff bloomed with light and detail. A few dozen yards down, Wilcox spotted it – the dangling stalactite, the sword of Damocles that Clancy had liked so much way back then. With his bearings back, Wilcox snuffed out the lantern and felt his way over toward the treasure stash. Even in the dimmest light, he retained the photo image of the marker, and once under it, he felt his way down to the boulder Two-Cross had put in front of the crawl space. On Wilcox’s orders, Niko gave the boulder a heave, and it tumbled over, cleaving in two with a resonant crack. “Don’t look at me like that,” Niko said. “I can’t see you, but I know you’re looking at me like I killed a child. Just go, get the necklace, and make us rich.” “I don’t want the money. I’m finishing up old business.” “Okay,” Niko said, “make me rich.” He kissed Wilcox and leaned back, cross-armed, against the cliff wall. Then Wilcox lowered his head and shimmied into the low space hidden behind the boulder. A few feet down, the cave grew more spacious, enough, at least, for Wilcox to sit up and feel around on the sandy ground. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Maybe Two-Cross had beat him here; but no, Wilcox had always been the sentimental one. Two-Cross was too awash in bounty to waste time on a mere memento of something long gone. Then Wilcox’s fingers closed on a dirty, rusty chain, and it led to the still smooth pendant the two of them had lodged her all those years ago. The feeling of victory seized him, and for the first time in a while, he smiled. Then a bright light spilled into the crawlspace. A muffled grunt from outside, then a damp sound. And something rolled under the crawlspace. Something hairy. Something warm. Something wet. A head. Niko. Without thinking, Wilcox shimmied back out of the crawlspace, through a slick trail of Niko’s blood. Of course there was an ambush waiting, he knew. But might as well be ambushed – might as well go out in a glorious last stand – than be starved at, fired at, or cornered. Christ, how had he not heard anything until it was too late? Knowing full well a blade might fall to knock his own head off, Wilcox squirmed out of the crawlspace and whipped to the left. Sure enough, someone’s dagger dragged across his back, ripping his coat and leaving a bloody gash. With his good foot, Wilcox angled a kick up toward the arm of the assailant, but only managed to graze his hip. Instinctually, Wilcox reached for his gun before he remembered dropping it down to the ground below. The pirate moved in closer, straddling Wilcox and drawing the blade on Wilcox’s throat, pinning him against the cliff wall. “The captain wants to see you,” the pirate said. Wilcox’s eyes fell on the headless body next to them. “No thanks,” he said, “I think we need a little distance.” He grabbed at the pirate’s legs, and the man stumbled and fell, dropping the dagger, which slid down a deep crevice next to them. Bracing himself for the pain, Wilcox hoisted himself onto his legs, placing the boot of his good foot down on the pirate’s throat. “Where’s Clancy?” asked Wilcox. “gently caress off,” the pirate said. “I ain’t telling you anything.” He struggled against Wilcox’s boot, but Wilcox held firm, even though the pain of his injured ankle clouded his thoughts. “Thought you’d have more resolve,” said a familiar voice, and the six-and-a-half foot captain leapt down from a high rock, drew a sword, and cut open the pirate’s stomach. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Resolve? Justice?” Wilcox looked up – he hated that, always looking up – and forced himself to meet Clancy’s eyes. “You camped here. Of course you did.” “You’re a sentimental motherfucker. It’s two years exactly since you walked away.” Clancy walked in a half-circle around the gasping, twitching, gushing pirate. The pirate’s gleaming lantern cast twin shadows from Clancy and his sword, shadows that ran all the way across the chasm. Wilcox drew back, stepping out of reach of Clancy’s reach. “You remembered too,” Wilcox said. “I remember every loose end,” Clancy said, stepping closer. “Comes with the business.” He swiped at Wilcox a few times – playing with him. Wilcox retrieved the necklace from his pocket, dangling the pendant from the chain in front of him. “You want this?” Wilcox asked. “Not particularly,” Clancy said, still approaching. Wilcox would be cornered before long if he didn’t do something, anything. He swung the necklace above his head, eyebrows raised, still taking slow steps backwards. “I don’t care for trinkets,” Clancy said. “Unless someone’s willing to pay. And no one’s going to pay for that piece of trash I used to get into your pants.” He smiled. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Wilcox stumbled, his hurt foot twisting again, as he fell backwards over something. The nausea took him – Niko’s headless body. Clancy grinned and took a few more practice strokes. In desperation , Wilcox tossed the necklace in an arc, over Clancy’s head, beyond the pirate’s still twitching body, and onto the lantern, which smashed and rendered the chasm in utter darkness once again. Clancy snarled, breaking into a run and landing a barrage of sword strokes on the cave wall, while Wilcox rolled away. The foot ached so much after the second trauma that standing would be close to impossible, but at least in darkness there was some sort of equality between them. A scraping filled the air. “I’m going to find you,” Clancy said. “I suppose you’ve learned something about dirty tricks from our time together, hm?” Wilcox supposed Clancy was sweeping the ground with his sword, looking for him. To distract him, Wilcox tore off one of his boots and tossed it down the chasm. Still, the sweeping grew closer, and Wilcox huddled into a tight ball. The sword point cut into his leg. “Here we are,” Clancy said, and, bracing for the deadly cut, Wilcox heaved a rock in front of him as a shield. Clancy’s sword clanged off of the rock, he stumbled, and there was a second, sickening crack. Too easy, Wilcox thought. But before long, dawn would rise, and with it Clancy’s crew – and here he was, immobile, alone, and unprotected.
|
|
#
?
Jun 3, 2016 23:21
|
|
|
Okay I am in. As long as my prompt isn't something impossible to encompass in 1,000 words, like, "Young whippersnapper proves old farts wrong and changes the world with his rocking, grows old and overdoses on Fentanyl."
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2016 00:23
|
|
|
magnificent7 posted:Okay I am in. flash rule: must contain any two of: young whippersnapper, proving old farts wrong, changing the world, rocking, growing old, overdoses, Fentanyl.
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2016 00:31
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2016 00:38
|
|
|
FYI, the new Long Walk thread is up. It's basically a thread where we  to meet our monthly word goals because we're all big dumb babies with no discipline.
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2016 01:40
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 18:49 |
|
|
I'm in. I will never turn down a chance to annoy the blood queen Also, to make up for week 199.
|
|
#
?
Jun 4, 2016 02:39
|
|