Forums / Fun! / Just For Fun

Commission a story for me to write, and I will write it. I reserve the right to deny any request for any reason, but will usually inform you as to why I've denied it.

What happens when my army attacks the brony brotherhood.

As a retort:

What happens when the Weegee Offensive is beaten to a pulp by the glorious Brony Royal Military.

What happens when an army of disgruntled penguins invade Alaska for its natural supply of Skittles.

Write a story about a man who one day wakes up to find that he now looks just like Nic Cage.

Russian.

Tell them about Hell. Tell them about how we became brothers.

Tell them about 'Nam.

What happens when this thread gets good?

Dr. Meme sipped his coffee gingerly, as it was very hot.

Staring out onto the dusty plane, he played the whole siege out in his head. The shining fortress built by a thousand generations stood ignorant to its own future demise.

Dr. Meme had been planning this attack for what seemed like aeons now. He reveled at the thought of their infernal monarchy brought to its knees, burned to the ground and stomped on by a million iron-clad boots.

His excitement didn't bode well with the coffee in his gullet. He felt a bit sickly for a few minutes before returning back to normal.

"Mr. Meme, the assault vehicles are fully fueled. We're ready when you are."

"Good. Prime everything for launch. I'll be there in five minutes."

Dr. Meme walked out on to the metal platform overlooking a massive warehouse-like building that held his army. Every soldier stood at attention, every vehicle sat at the ready.

"Good morning gentlemen. I stand here before you today, not as a general, but as a brother in arms, for we are all united under one cause: The downfall of Brony autocracy. We are all loyal to freedom, to the rights of humans as a species. And we have all realised that there is a threat to this species, to our species. Evermore advancing on our fronts, the vile government of Equestria seeks to extinguish our bodies and our brains, to bring an end to mankind. But we will not back down to this threat. We will fight until we cannot fight anymore. Until our blood is fully drained, until our body is in pieces, until our armor is shattered, until then, we will fight. For freedom. For liberty. For humans. Now, my brothers, go and destroy what seeks to destroy us."

The crowd burst with applause.

The building's great hangar doors opened, and massive wave of metal and flesh charged the castle on the other side of the plane.

Today is the day of redemption.

Today is the day of resistance.

I'm going to have to deny that: Too gory.

Write a story about me saving the universe from evil laser ninja kitties.

Michael woke up like he did every morning; head thundering and bladder screaming.

He rushed to the washroom to pee and get some headache medicine, swallowing the pill and then washing his face to wake himself up.

He looked up into the mirror, then subsequently screamed.

"GAH!" he yelled. "What the?"

He had awoken to find himself with the face and body of Nicholas Cage.

For the next twenty minutes or so, he looked in the mirror and thought about how this could happen. Out of all the emotions coursing through him, happiness (I can get free stuff if people think I'm Nicholas Cage!), sadness (No one will recognise me….), fear (Is there someone out there who wants to assassinate Nic Cage?), the most stark was confusion.

Utter, abysmal confusion.

He heard some tapping on his bedroom window.

Naturally, Michael went to investigate.

Shards of glass came shattering down on him as a purple shape came swinging through the windowless hole in his bedroom wall.

"NIC CAGE I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ACTUALLY MEETING YOU MY NAME IS DOCTORPEPPERFAN"

Michael screamed and tried to run, only to be pulled back and captured by what now seemed to be a pony. A talking pony in a…. Wizard hat.

The last thing he saw was the creature's ecstatic eyes.

No one knows what happened to Michael since the incident. Police reports have come up without a lead, and many theories have been posted on the internet about it. The real Nicholas Cage is now under heavy protection by a group of United States Marines until the hysteria blows over.

Dinosaur Pirates. Do with that what you will. Weave me a glorious tale of adventure, lost love, victory. Go forth and do it, faggot.

I'll have to deny that; I can't really make a good story out of that one.

We were going to go cruising. Troll King was going to buy a boat. He saved up for that boat his whole life. All he needed was a little extra money.

Inter-Vietnam was a strange place, indeed. Flooded with unknown symbols and product-bots linking to sites that were ridden with viruses, that place was eighty-percent automated advertisers. The rest were real nice people, locals. Helping us with what we needed, feeding us when we were hungry.

What were we sent there for? I don't know. We were told to follow our orders and not question the higher-ups. The only thing I can guess is that we were sent in to clear out the advertiser-bots. They were a nuisance. Completely destroying the local infrastructure, down to even the local's culture, these ad things were ruthless. They didn't need sleep, food, water, or shelter. They didn't even talk, just silently carried out their processes.

They fought in groups, cornering whoever came by and smothering them with promises of cheap handbags and Adidas.

Poor TK. He got cornered like the thousands of others who succumbed to the bots.

When TK died, that reinforced me and Witch-King's relationship. Sure, we were friends, in that we had to be side-by-side for hours on end. But when TK gave his life for us, he told us one simple thing.

Protect each other with the lives you still have.

Days after Troll King's demise, we were silent. We didn't talk. We couldn't talk. We were too saddened by our friend's death to make the slightest lip movement.

Once our depression partially lifted its black veil over us, we got to talking. We soon became great friends, brothers, comrades. We stood by the orders TK gave us, with pride and diligence.

But we're still sad about what was promised to us when we enlisted.

We just needed a little more money.

We were gonna go cruising.

Stop.

Tell them about that time that you nuked the entire world.

Vlad was acting like a threat so RussianFedora nuked him.

Then Vlad recovered and his country became strong again.

So RussianFedora nuked the entire world.

Then he moved to mars and died in a cave.

The End.

TL;DR

Writing? Poetry?

Write a limerick on the joys of a weekend.

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up (minus the part when DPF's laser murdered you all and around a dozen other finer details).

Mallison was a simple little town located in a relatively boring part of Idaho. The only truly discerning thing about the quaint village was that it had a pair of leviathan smoke-stacks protruding from its outskirts.

Old Beau was a famous pig farmer who was the town's main supply of fresh pork. He took pride in what he did, taking good care of the swine and making sure they got a healthy diet. And, understandably, he was a bit surprised when the usual gray smoke-stacks that lumbered over his ranch burst into a hellish fireball.

Ripping through the town and setting ablaze every tree in sight, this explosion spread for a good two miles before stopping and cooling. Luckily Old Beau's farm wasn't touched by the explosion, it was too far away. But it was close enough to be doused in deadly radiation.

Day by day, more and more of his hogs died of radiation illness. It was a dreadful thing to experience. Miraculously, Beau got out of it fine. But his livestock fared a harsher fate.

Old Beau's whole farm was devastated, and all his animals eventually succumbed to the sickness. Except for one.

That one beautiful pig, thriving in the hellish landscape of a desolated town. That one pig got a mutation. It sprouted wings.

Beautiful, angelic wings that allowed it to soar high above the town and find a better life for itself.

That day, indeed, one could say that pigs truly flied.

I tip my hat to you, comrade.

Also you and I both know you aren't telling the whole truth about the nuking.

You finally snapping at Falcon after he wanted you to eat NSFW objects out of a bag two times.

Write the plot of BioShock using KYM users.

Denying; too generic.

The story of my stalker.

Okay.
Write about the time you and I fought to the death but it ended in a stalemate for some reason.

I didn't want this life for myself.

Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "Pirate's life for me" chime. But I never conformed to that standard.

It was three-fifty hextuple-oh when I joined their ranks. Seemed like a lucrative thing to do. We'd arm ourselves with some good equipment, take a person of importance for ransom, and gain not only millions of bucks, but complete escape from the law. Rinse and repeat, basically.

The media gave us a humorous name, "Terrordactyls". Sounds ridiculous, I know, but that's how the media is all the time. Governments all around Pangaea made their citizens hate us, telling them how awful we are, and that we were ruthless killers.

Truth is, we would never hurt a fly. We wanted money, not some politician's life. Sure, we made convincing "promises" about how we would pull the trigger if we didn't get our way, but those were just lies to scare the police and military.

Some of us were better actors than others.

I was a terrible actor, which is why I was usually just a background figure.

But the best actor there, was a beautiful lass named Hrrrrawk. She was a swirl of Ultramarine blue and dark black that seemed to be in an endless tug-of-war on her shiny scales. Absolutely gorgeous. I fell in love with her the first time I laid eyes on her.

When we got to talking, that really sealed the deal. She had a flawless body and a great personality. I had to have her.

So, one night, we met in private on the ship's deck, when the others were asleep. By this time, we had become good friends.

I told her that we could pull off one great heist, and fly away with the money for ourselves. I asked her if she had the same feelings as I had for her. She said yes. My heart raced. I asked if she thought the plan was good. She said yes. I felt like my chest was going to explode.

So, we suggested the idea to our captain, not explaining the part where we make off with the money for ourselves.

Me and Hrrrrawk were going to capture the president of West Pangaea, the most powerful dinosaur on the planet.

Doctors told me that my scales were hard enough to withstand a bullet. I was willing to test this out if it meant I would have a life with Hrrrrawk.

So, me and her were attending the president's Address to the Union. I spent a long amount of time sharpening my claws for this, because security would catch me if I had a firearm.

The time came. Twelve o' clock. The president ended his speech and I flew up onto the platform, claws unsheathed and at his neck.

"Don't make a move and you won't get hurt"

One o' clock and I'd already been shot in the head by an agent of the president's, and to my luck, it only caused an exceptionally painful bruise on my left temple. I yelled out my request:

"Forty million gold nuggets and the president goes free"

After a couple hour's standoff, they gave it to me.

I threw the bag of ingots to Hrrrrawk, and she quickly flew away to a meeting place of ours. We would finally have a life together now.

And that's when it happened.

Sunken into my scales, the gnarled claws of a large, black pterodactyl carried me away, unconscious.

I awoke in the ship that I'd been working within for the past few years.

Apparently the crew, ordered by the female captain, Ms. Scruuurk, had been watching me, making sure I didn't make off with the money for myself.

Clever girl.

And now, I write this from our pirate ship. I am in the captivity of Scruuurk, now working for her against my will instead of voluntarily.

I don't know where Hrrrrawk is. All I hope is that she's living a good life now.

Request.

Timeline of events leading into events of request.

Can you manage?

Because I Started playing Assassin's Creed today.
Write the Plot of Assassin's Creed but with Me as Desmond and the Assassins as KYM Users,

It's… Beautiful. The connection between the hero and Hrrrrawk was realistic and lovable. The words drew me in, like science to magnets. I could feel the story happening like I was there myself. You, sir, win a gorrilian gold nuggets and a pat on the back.

Write a story about the time Cpt. Douglas J Falcon challenged you to a hot dog eating contest, and it turned out to be a ruse.

Write a novel on my life story.

Denying; I don't play BioShock.

@Dr. Meme and Brucker:

RussianFedora sat in his comfy chair, sipping some water at KYM's discussion table. To his left, Kasrkai was rambling on about trolling and pink pinstripe suits. To his right, Brucker was discussing socioeconomic theories within various historical contexts.

And right across from RF, Douglas Falcon noticed that the Russian hat had opened up a new thread, and he was determined to say something disruptive.

"EAT A BAG OF DICKS" he exclaimed within the thread.

Within a few minutes, some of the KYM users had ganged up and were hitting him with downvotes. Once Douglas regained his composure, he stood up and said

"Okay, well then tell them about eating a bag of dildos".

After being smacked in the head with a downvote and told no, he hatched a nefarious scheme.

"Hey RussianFedora, there's a hotdog eating contest coming up soon. You want to join?"

"Sure, I like hotdogs."

"Okay! It's tonight at eight o' clock. Bring your appetite!"

But when RussianFedora walked into the hotdog eating room, it was something he never expected.

"EGAD!" RF screamed before bolting out of the room and into his writing thread.

"I must write a story about this"

I wanted to caress his mane. To hear him breathe. To see what he wears.

Is that too much to ask? To want to get to know more about someone?

Ha, and society calls me a freak. A crazy person.

But I'm not. I'm just courting. That's why he's tied up next to me. I need to study him.

I need to know him.

There's nothing wrong with that.

That's why he's unconscious.

Because he'll object to this.

But I know what's best for him.

I know him better than he does.

Better than anyone does.

But maybe this is wrong. Maybe holding him against his will isn't right.

But it has to be. It's not like I'm going to kill him.

What if keeping him captive is hurting him. Damaging him.

That's not right.

But it's fine. He'll heal, and then we can be together. Forever.

I just need some time.

I need some space.

I need to think.

But it will all turn out for the best.

Always.

They call it Saturday
I call it "Does it matter day?"
'Cause I'm care free
Don't you see
I don't even need to shave!

That was terrible. Don't make me do that again.

Do it again. Make a poem about the great pants party of '96.

Write a steamy bro fanfic about me and madcat punching life in the dick face.

Tell them the Bioware story.

Dramatize the first page or so of this thread.

The packets of electrons raced at ninety-nine percent the speed of light, effortlessly firing towards each other in a powerful collision.

Maxam looked at the readout on his computer screen.

"Mr. Adrian, you might want to see this"

A new particle was made from the collision. Something amazing.

But that wasn't what Maxam was pointing at. The loon thought these electrons had created neutrinos that went faster than light, because the newest particle escaped through one of CERN's wires and knocked it loose.

But, back to our little quantum particle.

Traveling through CERN and into the main grid, this particle (Who we shall call "Quantum" for now) skipped and ran with joy throughout his electrical environment. But, somehow, Quantum got sucked into an underwater internet cable, and zipped through the information field into a website called "Knowyourmeme", where he fell into the meme section and caused a nuclear subatomic reaction.

His particle materials mixed with the information held within memes as a whole, and he became something more spectacular than he already was;

For he was now, a Quantum Meme.

A story of a young boy who leaves his village to go hunting, when he comes back an evil tyrant is attacking. the young boy is shot in the heart with an arrow, he is left to die. He wakes up later on to find himself awoken in an old wizards cottage, he is nice but very pale.
He not only a wizard but a swordsman. The young boy pleads for tutelage. The old wizard finally agrees. The wizard warns him not to exert himself because of his repaired heart.
Few years pass
In the old mans dying breath, he gives the young boy a magical sword, but the sword is incomplete.
In the distance the evil tyrant is searching for a sword that would help him conquer the world.

Now write it

A young boy leaves his village to go hunting, when he comes back an evil tyrant is attacking. the young boy is shot in the heart with an arrow, he is left to die. He wakes up later on to find himself awoken in an old wizards cottage, he is nice but very pale.
He not only a wizard but a swordsman. The young boy pleads for tutelage. The old wizard finally agrees. The wizard warns him not to exert himself because of his repaired heart.
Few years pass
In the old mans dying breath, he gives the young boy a magical sword, but the sword is incomplete.
In the distance the evil tyrant is searching for a sword that would help him conquer the world.

Write a story about why you hate me so much you whore.
Wow, you people really suck at detecting sarcasm.

Now write my origins.