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Prompt for tomorrow: What the gently caress did just happen?
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Feb 24, 2017 09:20
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No Gravitas posted:Prompt for tomorrow: What the gently caress did just happen?
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Feb 24, 2017 09:22
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im fuvking around thats the pooooooooooint that post is a lot of words that dont have a beginning, a middle and an end, ywkim? so far beyond yr level that i loop around & and hang out a centigrade lower than u just to tactically hear u condescend no meds, no judges, no gods, no masters, no anyyyyyyyyything and i deal w ppl when i feel like
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Feb 24, 2017 13:01
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llamaguccii posted:The Popping of Pills seems like ur about on the rite wavelength here
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Feb 24, 2017 13:04
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yeah idk. if u wanna step 2 me i suggest al abandoning all hope first. i hope u at least used yr precious sleep to dream about someth nice 2 write about e: have you even slept yet kiiiiiid ive beeeeeeen sleeping 
take the moon fucked around with this message at 16:14 on Feb 24, 2017 |
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Feb 24, 2017 13:06
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I'm gonna post something up this afternoon, but if you could take the shitposting to a designated shitpost zone, I'd appreciate it. This is a general CC thread and I'm tryna reduce 'dome spillover so it's accessible to everybody.
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Feb 24, 2017 22:47
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no gods no masters muuuuuffffff im not overly concerned w what u appreciate ninja: wouldnt mind yr story tho
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Feb 24, 2017 22:53
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   TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 25th 2017: the great stories are the ones only that author could've penned -- today, break all the rules and just do you. Also, diamonds are the hardest material known to man. quote:prompt: "feelings are object permanence" No words who gives shape to roil; name to nameless? Who gives a dram of the water of life? who springs forth an old knowing; from ear to ear, and each to each? we are old too young. Will I stand before death in his mouldy coat and shout "I knew you fool, but I did not, because I could not -- I could not, because I did not."
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Feb 25, 2017 02:41
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5D AUTISM SPEX posted:prompt: "feelings are object permanence" ＦＬＯＣＫ ＯＦ ＰＩＤＧＥＯＮＳ Waneta-Janay has blood on her hands, hardly notices. It might be paint, or holo-finish, or something else that holographs her brain like a siren. What matters, she thinks, is that she never pays attention to anything that looks wrong. It passes by her, lost somewhere, like a memory of who she is. A lost memory, another life, something taken from her. The blood on her hands is being taken from her. She has track marks up and down her arms. Could be the archmage, she thinks, spreading nanites. Gray cobwebs through her skin till she's not sure what she's doing. She's lost it all the way, and if she has, if those memories are truly gone, there's no going back. Pigeons have flocked around her. Looking for somewhere to nest. She looks and sees their wings are sharp, nanothin, like blades she can't even see and no one would want her to feel. ty e: that was a poem tho namaste take the moon fucked around with this message at 04:38 on Feb 25, 2017 |
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Feb 25, 2017 02:51
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TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 26th 2017: candles, darkness, an intake of breath.
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Feb 26, 2017 08:55
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:
Her name was Ryzinas, and she was neuro-bred. She whispers to the void to stop hurting her. Not the deep parts. It's adding it all up, and just, not caring. Love, she thinks, something she's forgotten. She's being bladed and told it's all good. It's a shadow. Wraithlike and chrome. Eyes that burn red fire. It's stringing along her blood. It's taking her blood from her. Because no matter what she does. She can't stop feeding it. 
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Feb 26, 2017 09:13
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prompt: killed my goddess, left for japan
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Feb 26, 2017 09:30
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prompt: a vagrant-core story about ascension
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Feb 26, 2017 09:31
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prompt: complex perplexity
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Feb 26, 2017 12:14
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prompt: what you've built means nothing weighed against what you've left behind
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Feb 26, 2017 12:59
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prompt: they buried her alive
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Feb 26, 2017 16:16
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prompt: 片仮名, カタカナ
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Feb 26, 2017 21:56
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prompt: 本間 芽衣子 (めんま)
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Feb 26, 2017 21:58
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prompt: prompts
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Feb 26, 2017 22:16
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Daily means one a day, monsieur Autism. Cool your jets.
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Feb 26, 2017 23:06
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:
Calvin hated emitting light. He hated how constantly exposed he was. He thought living in the lightness was such an unnatural state of being. His friends always laughed at him. You can’t turn off your glow, bro. They said to him. It’s just how things are. Embrace it. But Calvin wanted desperately to be unseen. He scratched absentmindedly at his low-watt flesh and until blood twinkled out of him. He sighed. Even his insides were bright and blaring. He heard there was a store on the corner of main that could snuff him out so he went after school on the M3 bus. The store smelled of ashes and when the shop keeper stroked his hair the tiny particles of his scalp glinted onto the counter. He brushed them onto the floor until they eventually dulled out. Calvin bought a candle and a slot of Neon Neuron Neutralizer worth six weeks of allowance. Guaranteed darkness. The shop keeper promised. Kids these days. Always trying to be nothing. He sat on a park bench and drank the stuff. It tasted like tar and cotton candy and it made his tongue itch. He waited. When his hands started to lose their luster he pulled the candle from his backpack and shoved it between two splintered slots of the bench. He licked the wick with his tongue and felt the flame ignite. It burned thick and black, swallowing the bench in darkness. Calvin pulled his knees to his chest and nearly went cross-eyed waiting for the last little drops of light to drain from the tip of his nose. Finally, it was gone. He was gone. Totally, utterly gone. He licked his lips, swallowed in the emptiness and felt like he could finally breathe.
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Feb 27, 2017 10:26
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llamaguccii posted:Emitting Cool stuff. 5D AUTISM SPEX posted:prompt: they buried her alive SurreptitiousMuffin posted:candles, darkness, an intake of breath. We buried her under the hill behind the bike shed and the air tasted like rusting metal, like rain. We had no dark, moist earth - she laid in sand, cardboard, dirt and old discarded juiceboxes. There was not a single candle and no speech for we were a row of boys standing around in a new sort of silence. Toes wriggled in wellies, pudgy hands were clasped and caked in mud. The silence was solemn, like the first word that broke it would have to be important, but none of us could think of anything good to say. Behind the schoolbuilding, adults raised their voices and took the smaller kids in for shelter. Old and young, all would say we made it all up. Everything about going into a fairy-circle and the kingdom of the fey, walking through the intoxicating heather-fields and meeting the Queen Gracious. Maybe they'd even say that it was a girl-thing to make up stories about fairies. In the silence we looked into each other's eyes. We tried to discern whether we all remembered the same. A few of us were already growing less serious, looking ready to head back. That was fine after we decided that it was a boy-thing to keep a secret good. Forever, if we had to. We wouldn't show a living soul our grief at the small kids digging up our fairy-circle or the way that night had fallen on the kingdom. Our quest was done. We had set no gravestone marker on the hill behind the bike shed. If there was a scent of lavender still lingering on our clothes, we did not draw attention to it. Only when I was alone did I close my eyes and inhale.
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Feb 27, 2017 11:51
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Okua posted:Cool stuff. good poo poo
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Feb 27, 2017 12:11
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I like this. A lot. Okua posted:Cool stuff.
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Feb 27, 2017 21:49
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Aaaw yeah that is the stuff lads. TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 28th 2017: there is the sound of music from on high, and a breaking of the sky.
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Feb 28, 2017 08:34
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:there is the sound of music from on high, and a breaking of the sky. Spider Mand vs Octopoverty The latest webberman nasty. Spewing his hot sticky strands all over that clung to marble and baked on the asphalt. Windows sixty stories high now shellacked with the gunk along with hair, dirt, and grumbling of the good people below that seeped up from the city The grumbling of the good people below grew louder every week. In the beginning, the bug performed his role to specifications, just as they always had. Then the first body was found in the celing corner of an abandoned warehouse in the garment district. The body was horrifically mangled; the police thought she was a woman due to the long crimson tresses visible even through the thick grey gossamer. So the Bugle ran the headline "Spidey Slurps Strawberry Smoothie". Sick fucks. Bug denied it though. Say he out of his mind trying to help us and we don't give a poo poo, that we make it hard on him to spite him. When the last webber died it was pretty hosed up. Things haven't been right for a long time and maybe the universe spit this slingin' psycho at us for our sins. Everyday more redheads were found. Always redheads , but not always in hard to get to places like the first. He got comfortable, seeing as none of us could really challenge him anymore. The first ones we could gang up on, but after the Huggerbot burned through ten in a row we decided by vote to make him three times the size and much faster. This would prove to be our doom. We were beseiged by assailants and when one spider failed, the next triumphed due to his meticulously designed body and the modifications we chose for him. The third web cannon, the plasma gloves, the sonic accelerator, reenforced armor, scanning targeting implant. All of it so deadly and not even spider themed. What a waste. We never thought he would turn on his city. Around the 250th reincarnation his mental state was direly altered. His webbing wouldn't dissolve anymore, civilian casualties piled high, and even though our last foe had menaced us over a decade ago he remained vigilant. Scanning the buildings for windows not yet boarded up. Fwipping by any that weren't, snapping any young rusty-locked lad or lass out and away with him. Our city turns to rot beneath his silk crime, but a cry echoes through the dark and breathes life into the hearts of citizens who have not yet broken hope. We are rebuilding every day, we are preparing to fight.
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Mar 1, 2017 17:20
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I broke the thread with my bad story
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Mar 3, 2017 21:17
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Prompt: All this work for nothing, but at least we get to share a moment of time together before we die.
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Mar 3, 2017 21:56
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No Gravitas posted:Prompt: All this work for nothing, but at least we get to share a moment of time together before we die. A low rumble marked the failing of yet another probably crucial component of the Merryweather even as she streaked along her 108017th orbit around the blue-green marble Tiller and his team used to call home. Merryweather was in fairly good shape, hull not compromised beyond the capabilities of the two remaining field generators, all critical failure points restricted to the extremities of the station, she was breaking down in exactly the fashion her designers intended leaving Tiller with a full thirty-two square feet of leg room in the small corridor that bridged the two pieces of the station. It had been Spencer's suggestion to restrict the team to this corridor, squeeze every last bit out of the Merryweather by taking refuge in the smallest livable area, restrict the space life support systems had to work in, free up resources for the field generators and other extraneous bits of oldtech that had been grafted to her hull. Give them every possible second to work on fixing the unfixable. Since the station had a projected 80000 orbit lifespan the idea had been a good one Tiller supposed, even if the last few months had been nothing short of hellish. 'It was a drat good idea Spencer' Tiller said not turning to look at the other man. 'You're a loving hero...' His gaze was directed at the blue-green marble below them, the slightly shimmering field that had sprung up when Merryweather's exterior plating had been ripped away obstructed his view hardly at all. At his side his arcfetters lay discarded and silent for the first time in weeks. As he peered down he imagined he could see the smoky green cloud advancing - tightening it's grip around the planet. Terra-forming it, they had theorized. Using the spare bits of oldtech that littered the planets surface to somehow work a strange alchemic conversion on a global scale. Or at least Morgan had been convinced that was what was happening, to the point he had set his arcfetter aside firm in his conviction that the amalgamation of newtech and oldtech was somehow making things worse. But Morgan was dead now so what the gently caress was his opinion worth. 'World's loving ending down there. poo poo no. World's already loving over. And you're calling me a hero?' Tiller didn't respond, he absently ran his hand along steel bulkhead at his side not taking his eyes off the world below him. His finger traced the line of the nanoconduit feeling the dull hum of the Merryweather's heartbeat as he did so. It was reassuring in a way, even as it ended. Everything had to end after all. 'Think we just lost life-support.' Tiller murmured his eyes staring as if transfixed into the depths of the emerald cloud. 'Not that it loving matters.' Tiller turned to look at the other man, his lip curling a bit at the non-regulation orange patch sewn onto the left shoulder of his suit, the half of the man that remained was only recognizable because of the patch at this point. Spencer had lost his other half when Merryweather's hull had ruptured, neatly bisected as the field snapped into place over the gaping hole in the exterior plating. His skull stared back at Tiller with a sort of grim accusation, though that was probably his imagination. Spencer's various biological components had been mostly broken down in the heat of his own arcfetter to be reclaimed by the Merryweather's life-support system in the same manner as any other biological excretion. It seemed Tiller would be spared that indignity he thought as he ran his finger once more over the now-inert nanoconduit. 'No I suppose it doesn't.' He spoke aloud despite the rapidly thinning oxygen, eyes drawn away from the remains of his one-time friend, one-time lover by the end of the world.
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Mar 4, 2017 11:16
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Prompt: A bell is rung. A candle is blown out. The book closes. The dance begins.
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Mar 4, 2017 19:17
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Prompt: He knew he was wrong, but he chose to argue anyway. The heat was oppressive, despite the downpour.
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Mar 5, 2017 21:57
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I'm going to be busy all day tomorrow, so might as well do this now. Prompt: Everything is perfectly still, except the two of them. She's frowning. He's smiling. They are here to save the world.
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Mar 6, 2017 10:49
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No Gravitas posted:Prompt: A bell is rung. A candle is blown out. The book closes. The dance begins. The King's parties were lavish and frequent. The amount of guests grew and grew. In the end, the nobility started to stray, making excuses, avoiding invitations. A brave few were downright refusing on account of the things they had seen. But the merchants, the middle-class, even peasants were invited on certain nights, and the promise of food and wine was enough to make them gather in gleaming halls. The King spent the evening speaking to subjects. He had common people at his right and left and joined in their conversations. All scandalous, of course, but nobody spoke of it. The servants would never raise concerns, and the nobility wouldn't go against their King. He spoke to his guests about the state of the land or the court or the moon. The red moon visible through arched windows. Everything was lit by candles. Everything was underscored by violins. The King would, when the evening was drawing to a close, clap his hands and make the music stop. A bell sounded, terribly loud, and the candles were blown out. The guests now stumbled around in the dark, blind and deaf and lost. The King ate them. He opened a maw that was not a mouth, swung around ladies in mocking dances before tearing into them, leaving bloody bites. The nobles who knew what was coming pressed themselves agsinst the walls and tried not to breathe too loud. They avoided the heavy bulk of the King's body as he moved among them, pulling a wrist here, swallowing a hand there, seeing in the dark the way predatory animals do. If the moon shone just right, one could catch a glimpse of his white teeth and the utter blackness inside him. His bulging eyes showed inhuman hunger, his protruding stomach was distended until all veins were blue and purple against his waxy skin. Then he retreated to his chambers and the dance was over.
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Mar 6, 2017 11:29
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No Gravitas posted:Prompt: Everything is perfectly still, except the two of them. She's frowning. He's smiling. They are here to save the world. A Laundered Life Fold me into your arms like the sleeves of your shirt, still warm and soft like the skin of my face when you brush back my bangs. You say this is fresh and new. But it's not like we washed away the past in one little cycle, spun away all the pain. It's not like the memories drained out of me when you squeezed me up tight. Can't you see I'm fraying? Bounced around in trips to small towns, between waitresses that always smile and songs that play regardless of what I need to hear. While I'm tucked up in the corner of the seat, feeling the cool pane of the window like it some how brings me closer to being outside myself. Like the rain drops washing down are the slippery slivers of my soul, impossible to catch between our interlaced fingers. Sometimes I wish you would leave me out to dry, just an insignificant fabric of your life, swaying in the whispers of your world.
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Mar 6, 2017 23:00
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TODAY'S PROMPT March 7th 2017: we are children, together, under a raw new sun
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Mar 7, 2017 12:02
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Prompt: Everything is backwards and sideways. Her agility is unmatched. Only three more to go.
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Mar 8, 2017 22:02
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Prompt: I'm joyful. I'm beautiful. I'm loved. Everything is fine.
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Mar 9, 2017 20:26
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Prompt: A new warlord rules the streets of the city. The party was interrupted by an armed gunman with a sense of humour. A muffin has been left behind.
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Mar 11, 2017 03:21
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Prompt: Numbers. You need the numbers. You need all of them. All of them. The numbers are important, yes they are.
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Mar 12, 2017 09:41
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| # ? Apr 19, 2024 21:09 |
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Prompt: March 13th is Holi, the Hindu holiday of colors, love and forgiveness. Will the bad luck of the unlucky 13 win? Or will the carefree joy triumph? The talking black cat knows the answer.
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Mar 13, 2017 07:39
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