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  • Locked thread
crabrock
Aug 2, 2002

aka sticklegs



Grimey Drawer

don't loving edit your stories you idiots.

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Jay O
Oct 9, 2012

being a zombie's not so bad
once you get used to it

crabrock posted:

don't loving edit your stories you idiots.

Two-gendered baby it is.

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


Jay O posted:

I accidentally changed your baby's gender, is it okay to restore its infant vagina?

Of course, everyone should edit everything all the time! Take it from someone who totally isn't lying about being a judge!

Jay O
Oct 9, 2012

being a zombie's not so bad
once you get used to it

newtestleper posted:

Of course, everyone should edit everything all the time! Take it from someone who totally isn't lying about being a judge!

How dare you expect me to re-read the prompt, I barely read it properly the first time.

Yes it is common sense that someone who participated this week wouldn't be judging, shut up, I'm stoned right now.

Blue Wher
Apr 27, 2010

"Dear Strong Feraligatr,

How do you read Pelipper mail with such big, meaty claws on?

Axew,
Post Town, Canada"

newtestleper posted:

You should just edit it into your story. I'm judging this week and I say it's alright.

DQ this guy

Djeser
Mar 22, 2013



Hi, I'm Sitting Here, OP of Thunderdome. Thunderdome is over, everyone go home. I'm gonna go play a ukelele with socks on my hands now.

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Blue Wher posted:

DQ this guy

DQ everyone

e: especially ^ he can get double DQd editing post b/c gently caress u

Blue Wher
Apr 27, 2010

"Dear Strong Feraligatr,

How do you read Pelipper mail with such big, meaty claws on?

Axew,
Post Town, Canada"

sebmojo posted:

DQ everyone

e: especially ^ he can get double DQd editing post b/c gently caress u

but senpai don't double DQ sweet little me. ;_;

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Djeser posted:

Hi, I'm Sitting Here, OP of Thunderdome. Thunderdome is over, everyone go home. I'm gonna go play a ukelele with socks on my hands now.

skwidmonster
Mar 31, 2015

THUNDERDOME LOSER


'Round Sundown
WC: 1000

Artie walked into a flower shop for the first time in his life. He hustled from his pickup to the door quicker than he’d moved in decades, worried that somebody driving by on Old Main Street might see him. The bell above the door chimed like a siren and Artie flinched.

“Can I help you, sir?” the gray-haired woman behind the counter asked and pushed her bifocals up her nose.

“I need some flowers,” Artie told her. “They’re for my wife,” he was quick to add.

The storekeeper, whose nametag on her green apron said Sally, gestured around the store, indicating the abundance and variety of flowers. “What does she like?”

Artie took off his trucker hat and held it over his chest as if the national anthem were playing at a ballgame. “I sure don’t know. But she’s upset like I ain’t never seen.”

Sally walked around to the front of the counter and leaned against it. She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Let me guess. Something you did. And you think a few flowers are going to make up for it?”

Artie just about dropped his hat. “That how you plan to make a sale?”

Sally’s stern expression didn’t waver. “Don’t change the subject on me. Go on now, tell me what you’ve done.”

“Well,” Artie said and began to fold the brim of his hat. He looked down, feeling like his mother was back from the dead and scolding him over something he did at school. “I made a promise I didn’t keep. A big one.”

“And?”

“And now she’s mad. Breaking things. I didn’t get no sleep last night.”

“Any sleep,” Sally said.

“Any sleep,” Artie corrected, feeling again like he was five instead of fifty-five. “I’ve got until sundown to get things right. Then she’ll be up again. I already got most of what I think’ll make her happy out in the truck, but I feel like some proper flowers will really be the finishing touch I need.”

Sally glanced out the front window of the shop and could see the antlers of a deer sticking up from Artie’s truck’s bed. A nice buck.

“Mmhmm,” Sally hummed. “Well, let’s see.” She began to show Artie some of her best flowers: beautiful arrangements that smelled wonderful. But he soon stopped her.

“What about those?” Artie asked, pointing to a bouquet in the corner.

“Those? You don’t want those. They’re nearly dead. And they are starting to smell… funny.”

Artie gave the dying flowers a sniff and winced at the stench. “They’re perfect. She’ll love them.”

Sally shrugged. “If you say so.”

Artie paid for the flowers and got back in his truck with them. The deer in the back was hooked up to a drainage system, steadily filling a big bottle with red, viscous blood. He headed home, praying he’d be able to calm his wife down when she woke up.

The sunset glinted off his rearview for a second drat near blinding him as he pulled into the driveway. He didn't have a whole lot of time left if he wanted to catch her off guard. Artie popped the parking brake, went back to unhook the bottle, and took it in through the front door with the flowers.

He came back and gingerly pulled something wrapped in a blanket from the bed of his truck. This he took to the sunroom in the back.

He had everything set up by the time the last bits of grey light sunk into the horizon. Artie sat on the chair in the corner of the bedroom and watched his wife awaken.

She squeezed her eyes, then opened them, seeing first the crimson-maroon bottle on the end table, then Artie, sitting meekly, twisting his hat in his hands.

"Did that come from what I think it came from?"

Artie twisted his hat the other way. "Now, don't you get too excited, it's quality deer's blood, fresh bottled just for you. And I got these, too." He got up and brought the flowers to her. "See? I put 'em in your old urn we never got to use. And I have a surprise for you-- come on now-- Helen..."

Helen had swiped the bottle and was storming for the door. He scrambled after her.

"Come on now, sugar, just let me show you what I got waiting in the sunroom. I promise you'll like it. I know I'm a big old coward, but give me a chance here."

She gave a small long-suffering sigh and took a couple of gulps from the buck's blood.

"Kinda like diet pop or something," she muttered. "But it's not terrible."

Artie ever so gently put his hand on her back and led her to the sunroom. "Now I want you to take a look underneath that blanket."

Helen stepped to the table on the far wall and raised her hand to the blanket on top, pulling it off. Underneath, a pair of sleepy eyes blinked open, shining beneath long lashes.

Helen couldn't keep her face from falling.

"Now, honey, sugar, I know you wanted me to find a baby girl, but I- I just couldn't nab that poor little thing from her mama. But this has got to be the next best thing."

The faun underneath the blanket tried to stand on top of the table, but her legs noodled out from under her. "She's a youngun. I got her with a tranq, so maybe wait just a little bit to taste."

With that Artie plopped his hat on the table and offered her the flowers once more. "What do you say?"

Helen heaved a sigh and took the bouquet, curling her mouth into a smile. "I say you're a sweet, foolish man." And she kissed him on the neck, leaving a bloody little lipstick mark behind his jaw.

skwidmonster
Mar 31, 2015

THUNDERDOME LOSER


blue squares posted:

if you come back in here you better brawl me immediately. Whoever judges will write a beginning and we will both finish it

Let's go, babycakes. Judge?

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

I'll judge. Prompt will be up in a few hours.

Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.


Sitting Here posted:

Mercasaurus Rex Brawl
And you better prepare your anus Tyrannosaurus, cause Mercedes is coming in hot.

Ain't Going Back, Jack
900 holy words


“This strip club looks exactly like that interrogation room you see on Castle,” said Black Jesus. “I hope you have a Detective Beckett look alike. My life would be complete.”

The lanky officer rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "This isn't a strip-"

"You should think about hiring some prettier girls though,” Black Jesus said, “I mean, dayaaaamn, talk about falling off the ugly cross hitting all the nails on the way down." He snatched the officer’s glass of water, sipped from it and immediately sprayed it out all over the table. He stared at the glass as if it Judas'd him. Black Jesus took another tentative sip and spat it right back into the glass. He looked up at the officer and they locked eyes. Before the officer could protest, Black Jesus lifted up the glass of water and slammed it down on the table; but instead of miracle-ing a bucket of delicious fried chicken, he made a mess. "This isn't a strip club!"

“My Lord, please… just-” the officer said, holding himself steady by leaning against the table. “We need your cooperation.”

“What did you call me?” Black Jesus squinted suspiciously at the officer. “Who are you? Did my dad send you?”

The officer sighed. “I guess there’s no reason to hide our identity from you.” He yanked his trench coat off in a flourish revealing himself to be two cherub angels, one sitting on the other’s shoulders.

“Holy crap! Gabriel, Michael, what’s up guys!” Black Jesus said, reaching out to dap the angels. They shook their heads and left Black Jesus hanging.

“You’re in a deep trouble, my Lord,” said Gabriel as he dismounted Michael to stand on a chair.

“Hold the phone!” Black Jesus said, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Michael heaved his chubby self onto the table with some grunting and wheezing. “Haven’t done anything wrong?!” he said, his face red with perspiration. “Within thirty years of being sent to Earth, you gave historians a fit when you had that showdown with Judas! You assisted a group of spell casting heretics in robbing a grocery store and you convinced a man he was the chosen one, and then this man created a cult based around a briefcase!

Black Jesus chuckled. “I can’t believe he bedazzled that briefcase. Wish I would have thought of that.”

“Let’s not forget you “pre-forgave” a man to commit murder!”

“Oh, come on,” Black Jesus interjected, “Hitler. He was literally Hitler.”

“Protocol, my Lord. You have to let things play out,” Gabriel said.

“I want a sexy lawyer.”

“A lawyer!” Michael threw up his hands in frustration.

“My Lord,” Gabriel said, “your father knows all. This isn’t something you can talk your way out of.”

Black Jesus clicked his tongue. “Fine,” he said, “can I at least have my powers back so I can go with dignity?”

Gabriel and Michael shared a look. Michael shook his head and said, “Can’t do it.”

“Come on, you guys! Please?” Black Jesus pressed his palms together and quivered his bottom lip. “I’ve never asked for anything. Just... let me go home as my father’s true son?”

Gabriel slumped his shoulders and averted his eyes. Black Jesus honed in on him.

“Gabe, I got season tickets to the Knicks. All yours.” Black Jesus said. “Floor seats.”

Gabriel kept his eyes down.

Black Jesus pressed on. “You know, I’ve been talking to Venus, that Roman deity; she’s been telling me how much she would love for a strong, handsome angel to take her to a game or two. I could give you her digits.”

Gabriel looked up at Black Jesus. “Y-you would do that?”

“Lift the wards, and the tickets and her phone number are yours, my man.”

Michael opened his mouth to object, but by then it was too late. Gabriel snapped his fingers and a golden glow enveloped Black Jesus. As promised, Black Jesus miracled season tickets and a phone number and placed them on the table. Before Gabriel could take his prize, Black Jesus stiffened and swung himself like a bat at the angels, smacking them away. They cratered against the wall in a shower of angelic glitter and language uncouth of angels.

As Black Jesus walked by Gabriel, he said, “I’ll make sure you get a kiss-cam on you.”

“Thanks, my Lord,” groaned Gabriel.

Black Jesus walked into the main lobby and froze. “Freaking kidding me,” he said, looking around. It was packed with every officer from the precinct. They all had shining eyes and halos. “Michael, just give up!”

The room erupted in a hundred unified voices. “I’m taking you in. I have a job to do!”

“I ain’t ever going back!” Black Jesus said. He lowered himself into the carpenter stance and within seconds the horde charged him. Faster than lightning, Black Jesus bitch-slapped those within reach, knocking away Michael’s influence and fixing physical flaws. Slap. Summer teeth are straightened (some are here, some are there). Slap. Minger to model. Slap. Republican to Independent.

Black Jesus’ muscles glistened in the sun and moonlight. Unconscious, gorgeous policemen are strewn all over the office like clocks in a Salvador Dali painting. And then there’s Michael.

“This is your last chance!” he said, jowls quivering.

Black Jesus rolled his eyes and shoved Michael aside as he walked toward freedom.

JcDent
May 13, 2013

Give me a rifle, one round, and point me at Berlin!


I'm not good at reading the thread or charging up laptops so they wouldn't die at the wrong time, so here I post.

Skwid, I still owe you a crit. I'm halfway through the last week's offering, but I can switch to your new stuff if you want.

What A Twist
998 words

Gord drove his brother-in-law's Challenger up I-70 at a steady seventy miles per hour, trying hard not to think about the contents of the trunk. It didn't work; that kind of thing never works. Try not to think about a sexually aroused saber-toothed cat. You can't, you just had that image flash into your minds eye and can't unsee it. It was the same was with Gord and the twenty thousand dollars, the bloody hedge trimmers, and cousin Carol's left hand.

Still, what did he have to worry about. He was moving at the speed of traffic in a well-maintained vehicle and lily-white skin. No way he was going to get profiled or speed-trapped or stopped on any bullshit traffic violation, not so long as he didn't drive like a maniac or like a drunk or pothead trying drive all stoned-careful. It wasn't easy. He was coming down off of the initial panic and adrenaline, and that state wasn't too far off from any of those other kinds of funk.

The highway traffic started slowing down to single digit speeds. Some kind of accident up ahead? That was just what Gord needed now, thanks Jesus, thanks Obama, thanks whatever rear end in a top hat couldn't manage to drive their car properly without screwing it all up for everyone else. But Gord couldn't be sure that was what it was. What if it was some kind of checkpoint? Then Gord might well be screwed. He wasn't the smoothest talker in the best of times.

He began to rehearse conversations out loud. The traffic had ground to a complete stop and the people around him were starting to lay on their horns, as if that would do any kind of good. “Good evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?” No, that wasn't right. “What can I do for you?” Better. “Going home after a weekend seeing my sister's family.”

Over the horns, he heard loud engine noises. He looked up and saw a motorcycle, moving straight down the median line at what had to be more than fifty miles an hour in the wrong direction. Neither the driver nor the woman sitting behind him holding on around his waist were wearing helmets, and had looks of terror on their ugly faces. They sped past him and Gord watched them go. Then he turned around, and saw what they were running from.

Cats. Big cats. Not just lions or tigers, but bigger than that, and with monster-big teeth. Smilodons, saber-toothed cats, at least a dozen of them running down the highway, some giving up the chase to see if they could get at what's in one of the cars.
“gently caress oh gently caress oh gently caress,” Gord hated cats, and these were even worse than aunt Gertrude's malnourished mongrels. He was positively sure he wasn't high as he backed up the Challenger to side of the road. Can't just drive backwards, there's already a jam of station wagons, lovely Japanese hybrids and other automotive crap.
Nearly scraping one side of the Challenger on the wall and taking the occasional side mirror with the other, Gord started getting the hell out of this new dodge. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the monster cats leap and bound on the roofs of the cars.
Swivelling his head back to the front, Gord managed to get back on the road with no more bumps and brushes than a regular rush hour in LA would give. Couldn't get back to 70mph, there was still some traffic that didn't know they were heading for #killercats. And there was much beeping and flashing of lights, but Gord, all high on adrenalin, was swerving like crazy.

Dodge an SUV. Dodge a soccer mom that's gonna end as cat food. gently caress, a truck! Nearly pancaked against the wall by a pick-up...

And just like that, he was out in the clear, and this was almost as odd as the brown dots in his rear view mirror. An Interstate suddenly running out of cars was a junkie refusing a hit: loving suspicious. Then again, it made escape from smilodons easier, so who was Gord to question his good luck.

Especially since it promptly ran out. Taking a bend on the mysteriously empty road, he saw a dark line cutting the road ahead. A mile or two and it revealed itself to be the National Guard.

“Oh you son of a bitch,” blurted out Gord, who was somewhat weary of authorities at the best of times. And in his mind, weekend soldiers were almost five-oh, and five-oh was one popped trunk away from giving him twenty five to life.

The Challenger skid to a halt. What to do, what to do? The green fat hand of the Law in front, primordial murder Garfields to the back. What the gently caress is he to do? Gord slammed the steering wheel.

Then came a faint roar from the back – the saber-tooths were closing in! Probably filled with fat kids and soccer moms, but still closing in! And one thing that Gord understood was that animals don't let you call up a lawyer.

So he revved up the engine and drove straight to the guard line. There were jeeps, soldier, machineguns and boxy... probably tank thinks, Gord never really bothered to know those things apart. But he knew opportunity when he saw it, and what he saw was a gap in the line, probably for daring escapes like that.

He came to in a ditch, with faint recollection of smashing through the cordon, seeing the ugly bike couple on a tank, turning over. There was intense firing behind him.

And opening the smashed trunk, he heard faint growling. Turning his head, he saw a sabertooth, all entry wounds and sticky with own blood crawling towards him.

Holding the trimmers in his right and throwing the dismembered palm to the cat with his right, Gord thought:

“Well, Carol, you got to be real handy.”

And charged the hosed up sabertooth.

crabrock
Aug 2, 2002

aka sticklegs



Grimey Drawer

1:26 AM: <Seafood-san> This judge chat has been a better story than most of the stories this week.
1:26 AM: <@crabrock> haha
1:26 AM: <Seafood-san> HIt the prompt too.
1:26 AM: <Seafood-san> And three different writers.
1:26 AM: <Seafood-san> We win, everyone else loses.
1:26 AM: <Seafood-san> Crabrock write the next prompt.
1:26 AM: <Broenheim> it turns out that this week, I was the winner, like usual - crabrock

results for week 145

Whoa. Ok. Jeeze.

Did most of you forget to read the whole prompt? Let me quote myself, and some of you can read this for the very first time and realize the extent of your ohshitifuckedupness:

crabrock posted:

The prompt:
No emotional crap. I’m just too stressed to deal with it! I want something light and fun, something that’s easy to read and after I’m done I think “that was nice.” That doesn’t mean it needs to be a big joke, a brainless action piece, or a meaningless meandering, but keep it lighthearted. No topics are off limits. Have fun, real characters.

So many of you wrote DRAMA and MURDER and EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.

DMs are based mostly on if you just really hosed up your ending. Some of you were handed turds, and instead of burying that turd and letting it grow into a beautiful flower, YOU ATE THE TURD. YOU PUT THE POOP IN YOUR MOUTH, AND YOU SWALLOWED IT. DON'T EAT THE POOP, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! You get DMs, you filthy poo poo eaters:

Benny Profane for the ending of Mercury Rising
Jonked for The Fire and the Slave
Jitzu_the_Monk for The Art Lesson
newtestleper for Work Experience
spectres of autism for Birdy
simplefish for Ulterior Motives
Fuschia tude for Thee Tends Well

One of you though. Dear god. It's like you ate the poop, poo poo it out, and then loving ATE YOUR OWN POOP MADE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POOP! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

Loser: Thranguy for The stinkyhole Out of Space (what does that mean?!?!)

Tucked away in the throngs of a crowd of people just shoveling feces into their mouth like anuses were going extinct were some people who managed to actually grow a flower.

dmboogie and redtonic wrote a fun tale of a Janitor teaching a death robot how to Janitor the gently caress out of bad guys. You both get an HM.
Tyrannosaurus and Djeser somehow missed the "no emotional poo poo" part of the prompt, but one of the judges liked their story so much they are walking away with an HM each.

Only one story this week both nailed the prompt and was actually fun to read.

Djeser and Sitting Here crafted the timeless tale of a Mummy who just wanted to suck hella juices out of a girl's organs, but was thwarted by a hypoallergenic cat. They both claim a win for this week, though SH, by virtue of writing the ending, takes the lead for next week. Yes, Djeser got an HM and a Win this week. Deal with it.

I hope you all had fun doing this, and might I suggest we NEVER DO THIS AGAIN?

Thranguy
Apr 21, 2010

'Read over your compositions, and when you meet a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.' -Samuel Johnson

crabrock posted:



One of you though. Dear god. It's like you ate the poop, poo poo it out, and then loving ATE YOUR OWN POOP MADE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POOP! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

Loser: Thranguy for The stinkyhole Out of Space (what does that mean?!?!)

Tucked away in the throngs of a crowd of people just shoveling feces into their mouth like anuses were going extinct were some people who managed to actually grow a flower.


Full on loss first time out, I guess nowhere to go but up. huh?

Anyhow, (and knowing full well that if I have to explain it then it's my failure), the title was mean to simultaneously be that word, "Cancer" and evoke the Lovecraft story 'The Colour Out of Space". Because when I was given a blood-soaked Tom Swift versus a Lovecraftian Horror setup, hitting the prompt was right out from the start and I made the (wrong) decision to lean in to it...

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


Thranguy posted:

Full on loss first time out, I guess nowhere to go but up. huh?

Anyhow, (and knowing full well that if I have to explain it then it's my failure), the title was mean to simultaneously be that word, "Cancer" and evoke the Lovecraft story 'The Colour Out of Space". Because when I was given a blood-soaked Tom Swift versus a Lovecraftian Horror setup, hitting the prompt was right out from the start and I made the (wrong) decision to lean in to it...

don't give excuses no-one cares

anime was right
Jun 27, 2008

death is certain
keep yr cool


bye

anime was right fucked around with this message at Oct 27, 2015 around 05:55

Benny the Snake
Apr 10, 2012

Whose kitty litter did I shit in?


Thranguy posted:

Full on loss first time out, I guess nowhere to go but up. huh?
Heh. Heh heh. HahahahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

MERC BRAWL

Burn, Baby, Burn
755 words

Archived.

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at Jan 8, 2016 around 03:22

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Week 146: The Ones You Hate to Love



You can all thank Crabrock for saving y'all from a gimmicky-rear end week (by hosting a gimmicky week himself).

I'm too loving drunk and confused to come up wiht some clever prompt. gently caress you.

This week I want you to be Evil. Deliciously evil. Endearingly evil. You are the bad guy. The antagonist. The Lucifer of your stupid little made up world. Important caveat: Your antagonist must either decisively win or lose, you shits. That means your carefully-crafted little Sephiroth wannabe must have THING that they WANT and they must either get/not get that thing at the end of the story.

Additionally, I loving hate incompetence. I've killed better minions than you, over less trivial poo poo than the bullshit you're about to write. As such, I will have http://legendspbem.angelfire.com/eviloverlordlist.html open in a separate tab while I'm reading your feeble word discharge. Try to make as few cliche villain mistakes as possible! If I detect an incompetent villain, you could find yourself on the DM list, or worse.

tl;dr: Your main character must be an endearing villain, have a defined goal, and achieve a clear success/failure. Don't use villain cliches. No genre restriction.

Go.

Signups due by: 11:59:59PM PST on Friday, May 22
Submissions due by: 11:59:59PM PST on Sunday, May 24
Word count ration: 1550
Judges:
making GBS threads Here
Blue Squares
Curlingiron

Baddies:

Muffin~ Your villain cannot speak and cannot see. They cannot have magical powers, but they must be an effective villain.
Broenheim - Your villain has a heroic nemesis. He/she is also your villain's brother/sister! For reasons your villain was never able to get their parents to admit, everyone always liked the heroic sibling a bit better.
newtestleper
Tryannosaurus
Jay O - Gimme casual, laid back evil from your villain.
Wangless Wonder
SadisTech
skwidmonster - Your villain has a shameful soft spot for something really mundane or adorable.
SkaAndScreenplays - Your villain has a retail day job.
cargohills - Your villain walks in on their minions/friends/lover/pet/whoever committing an act of betrayal.
A Classy Ghost - Your villain is trapped somewhere at the start of your story.
Djeser
Claven666
RedTonic - Your villain is always physically hungry, and it sucks.
simplefish - Your villain gets stuck in traffic.
Grizzled Patriarch
Benny Profane - Your villain was just kicked out of the International Association of Supervillains
lost old man
Pham Nuwen - Your villain has difficulty returning something to IKEA/some other lovely furniture store.
Thranguy - Your villain’s plan hinges on potatoes.
Doctor Idle - Your villain has a fear of public speaking. Odd side note, they love the occasional bit of karaoke
Blue Wher - Your villain is SUPER proud of their __________ collection. (Fill in the blank)
OfChristandMen
JcDent
Ravenkult - Your villain has a therapist.
Overwined
Jonked
crabrock & TDbot
Posthumor - Your villain is addicted to/dependent on something. This COULD be drugs, or it could be something of your own devising. But they need their fix.
God Over Djinn
Screaming Idiot - Your villain is parent to a young child
Fuchsia Tude - Your villain is allergic to something really common.
Guts and Bolts - Your villain has a secret soft spot for their nemesis.
JACB - Your villain must get the ___________ before their nemesis!
Schneider Heim - Your villain receives a mysterious package of some sort at the beginning of the story.
docbeard - Your villain has stolen a mysterious black briefcase. So far, they haven't been able to open it.
Thyrork - When your villain isn't villaining, they're just trying to make this relationship work, dammit!! (they have a fraught relationship with a significant other).
Bompacho - No one understands your villain's ~art~
Jitzu_the_Monk
Enchanted Hat
Benny the Snake
spectres of autism
Entenzahn
Killer-of-Lawyers

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at May 23, 2015 around 02:18

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

I got it wrong. Look, I'm well aware I got it wrong and uh, I got it wrong.


YOU DIDN'T USE MY PROMPT SUGGESTION YOU MONSTER I'MMA WRITE THE BEST STORY EVER TO PROVE YOU WRONG



ALSO THAT STORY I STILL OWE FOR EUROVISION WEEK


IN

blue squares
Sep 28, 2007


Soiled Meat

I'm a fast judge (and I have a brawl and an another thing to write this week)

flerp
Feb 25, 2014


Just so everyone knows, I will not be able to finish up my judgecrits any time soon, so if you want my impressions for your story PM me or ask in irc which I will try to be in regularly throughout the week

anyways with that out of the way

in

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


In and since apparently I can't finish an entry otherwise.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

blue squares posted:

I'm a fast judge (and I have a brawl and an another thing to write this week)

It is done.

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

In.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

I will give ~evil flashrules~ to those who request them, btw

flerp
Feb 25, 2014


Sitting Here posted:

I will give ~evil flashrules~ to those who request them, btw

you're probably not evil enough to give me a flashrule you coward

Jay O
Oct 9, 2012

being a zombie's not so bad
once you get used to it

Sitting Here posted:

I will give ~evil flashrules~ to those who request them, btw

Flash me with malicious intent.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Broenheim posted:

you're probably not evil enough to give me a flashrule you coward

Your villain has a heroic nemesis. He/she is also your villain's brother/sister! For reasons your villain was never able to get their parents to admit, everyone always liked the heroic sibling a bit better.

Jay O posted:

Flash me with malicious intent.

Gimme casual, laid back evil from your villain.

Wangless Wonder
May 27, 2009


i'm in

SadisTech
Jun 26, 2013

Clem.


in

skwidmonster
Mar 31, 2015

THUNDERDOME LOSER


Drunk prompt is best prompt. In, , and flash rule me, please.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

skwidmonster posted:

Drunk prompt is best prompt. In, , and flash rule me, please.

Your villain has a shameful soft spot for something really mundane or adorable.

SkaAndScreenplays
Dec 11, 2013

by FactsAreUseless


Sitting Here posted:

Week 146: The Ones You Hate to Love



You can all thank Crabrock for saving y'all from a gimmicky-rear end week (by hosting a gimmicky week himself).

I'm too loving drunk and confused to come up wiht some clever prompt. gently caress you.

This week I want you to be Evil. Deliciously evil. Endearingly evil. You are the bad guy. The antagonist. The Lucifer of your stupid little made up world. Important caveat: Your antagonist must either decisively win or lose, you shits. That means your carefully-crafted little Sephiroth wannabe must have THING that they WANT and they must either get/not get that thing at the end of the story.

Additionally, I loving hate incompetence. I've killed better minions than you, over less trivial poo poo than the bullshit you're about to write. As such, I will have http://legendspbem.angelfire.com/eviloverlordlist.html open in a separate tab while I'm reading your feeble word discharge. Try to make as few cliche villain mistakes as possible! If I detect an incompetent villain, you could find yourself on the DM list, or worse.

tl;dr: Your main character must be an endearing villain, have a defined goal, and achieve a clear success/failure. Don't use villain cliches. No genre restriction.

Go.

Signups due by: 11:59:59PM PST on Friday, May 22
Submissions due by: 11:59:59PM PST on Sunday, May 24
Word count ration: 1550
Judges:
making GBS threads Here
Blue Squares
A good judge

Baddies:

Muffin~
Broenheim - Your villain has a heroic nemesis. He/she is also your villain's brother/sister! For reasons your villain was never able to get their parents to admit, everyone always liked the heroic sibling a bit better.
newtestleper
Tryannosaurus
Jay O - Gimme casual, laid back evil from your villain.
Wangless Wonder

IN
Man this is hard because there are so many cliches.

cargohills
Apr 17, 2014



This sounds like a good week to lose, I'm in. Flash rule too, please.

A Classy Ghost
Jul 21, 2003

this wine has a fantastic booquet


In, flash me.

Djeser
Mar 22, 2013



crabrock posted:

Djeser and some fuckin guy crafted the timeless tale of a Mummy who just wanted to suck hella juices out of a girl's organs, but was thwarted by a hypoallergenic cat. They both claim a win for this week, though SH, by virtue of writing the ending, takes the lead for next week. Yes, Djeser got an HM and a Win this week. Deal with it.

The one loving time I go out to have fun with friends and I win without knowing it.



Dodged a loving bullet, tell you what.

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Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry


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