Forums / Fun! / Just For Fun

Today, in IRC, Mister J challenged me to create a quality writing thread, and I accepted.

The rules are simple- I'll write what you request, but at my discretion. I withhold the right to deny you a story if it seems boring, too difficult, etc.

All righty, then… Time to write.

The second part of RF's story about me.

You and your fellow otakus (Loli, Gespenst, Suisei, Natsuru, etc.) go on a quest for the Holy Grail of Anime, which I guess is Mio's panties or something.

Summarize one day of the IRC.

Write a story about a guy in a trophy truck running the SCORE International Baja 1000.

A summary of TF2.

inb4writingthreadgeneral

You can wake up, now…

Now that we're alone, I can tell you how I feel.

I know you feel the same way.

You can wake up, now…

No, don't be scared…

You see, I'm just like you.

You can wake up, now…

I see- you must be tired.

It's ok, I'll let you sleep a while longer…

In the morning, we can have more fun.

For now, just sleep while I caress your soft, flowing mane…

Dinosaur pirates? Dinosaur pirates.

a story where I was human and waked up to realized I suddenly turned into a dewott.
Because RF seemed to skiped my request.

Ah, yes- I recall those halcyon days of my youth… Aristocatification and myself would oft wander through the fields of our beloved country, roaming from town to town having our fill of stories and wine… One cold, bitter night, we heard what was perchance the greatest tale of them all…

The Holy Pantsu of Akiyama.

Aristo, my dear companion, laughed at the notion, calling the man insane! I, however, knew there was an inherent veracity flowing through the tapestry of fancy he wove…

"Forsooth!" I cried in my arrogant youthfulness, "Surely we of all people could handle such an undertaking as this!"

Aristo acquiesced after many an hour's argument- I simply had to see this journey through. We decided to head out on the morrow, hiring an archer by the name of Suiseiseki to accompany us for more safety.

Day one was a brutal hike… We trekked from dawn to dusk, settling on a small township for respite. There, we met a man by the name of Natsuru, who (as the stars would have it) was on the same journey as we. The decision to add him into our troupe was unanimous.

Day two was much easier upon us- we happened upon and purchased a handful of horses at a bargain. We had traveled to the edge of a great forest when the horses refused to step any further. Hopping from my stallion, I tasked Aristo to go on ahead of us to see if we could travel easily on foot.

He never exited the forest.

Day three was dour. We sullenly mucked through the woods in the hopes of finding our lost friend. It was to no avail.

Day four we accomplished our brobdingnagian task- we stumbled upon the chamber of the Holy Pantsu. Natsuru, in his blind joy, heedlessly grabbed for them… He was smote post-haste.

I carefully equipped mine own hands with my trusty panty-snatching gauntlets, and reached my trembling hand outwards. They were mine… But, at what cost?

At what cost?

Patrick made a writing thread? Hell yes.

The day the music died.

Write about the drawing thread users and their long journey on the bandwagon.

(Damn, I knew I shouldn't have grabbed those panties! It's just like what happend when I took the Dragons Bra of Meling!)

Wright the events that transpire upon the Kym user community getting transported into the land of Hyrule! (A Zelda parody.)

I was tempted to simply write "DICKS", but… I decided to be a bit more in depth.

I thought this thread was about…

"It's a beautiful day for a race, ladies and gentlemen… Not a cloud in the sky, and not a frown to be found! Let's see who we have racing toda- OH MY GOD, A MAN IN A TROPHY TRUCK IS OPENING FIRE UPON THE OTHER RACERS!

"It's a bloodbath, ladies and gentlemen… The carnage is unbelievable- the screams from the stands are bloodcurdling! Oh, God! Why!? WHY!? What is this!? He's taking off! He's running the race by himself!"

No one knows why a sociopathic killer was allowed into the race. All we know is that the death count was in the dozens.

POOTIS.

Hats.

Gentlemen?

MEDIC!

Spy's sappin' muh sentry!

BOINK!

Sandvich.

MEDIC IS A SPY!

There you go- Team Fortress 2.

…don't you remember the the last dinosaur pirate story I wrote for you?

Write the story on how i lost both of my jobs and became doctorhobo.

A long, long time ago- February 3rd, 1959… People were thrilled by the stylings of Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, and Ritchie Valens. I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. You see, I was an aspiring musician then, and I knew (if I had my chance) that I could make those people dance, and maybe, just maybe they’d be happy for a while as they forgot about the world around them… But February made me shiver, I'd get reminded of their fate with every paper I’d deliver… There was bad news on the doorstep of every house- I felt like I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed bride… I don't remember everything, but I recall something touched me deep inside that terrible day the music died.

So… Bye, bye Ms. American Pie… An American icon now forgotten… To try to get over it, I drove my girl in my Chevy to the levee but, the levee was dry if you know what I mean…

I know them good ol’ boys were drinking whisky and rye, singing, "This will be the day that I die… This will be the day that I die!" just like they used to…

Oh, the questions I would've asked, like did you write the Book of Love, and do you have faith in God above (if the Bible tells you so)… Do you believe in rock n roll? Do you think music can save your mortal soul? And then you can teach me to dance real slow?

I still have problems of my own, though- like baby, don't lie, I know that you’re in love with him 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym… You both kicked off your shoes… I should've been angry, but man I dig those rhythm and blues… I was just a lonely teenage broncin’ buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck but I knew for sure that I was out of luck the day the music died…

Now for 60 years we’ve been on our own, and moss grows fat on a Rolling Stone, but that’s not how it used to be… I remember when the Jester sang for the King and Queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean and a voice that came from you and me…

And while the Elvis, the King, was looking down, the Jester, Bob Dylan stole the thorny crown of the people's adoration… He was 'put to trial', but when the courtroom was adjourned it turned out that no verdict was returned. While Lennon read a book on Marx, the Beatle's quartet kept practice in Chea park while we sang dirges in the dark the day the music died…

I remember listening to 'Helter Skelter' in the summer swelter, while The Byrds flew off with the fallout shelter… I was eight miles high and falling fast. Oh, that reminds me… One of the Byrds landed a foul on the possession of grass.

The players tried for a forward pass
With the Jester, Dylan, on the sidelines in a cast from his motorcycle accident,
Now the halftime air was sweet perfume, while state guard sergeants played a marching tune. We all got up to dance, but we never got the chance… You see, the Ohio State Guard players tried to take the field, the marching band refused to yield- they called it the Kent State Massacre.

Do you recall what was revealed, the day the music died?

There we were all in one place, Altamont Motor Speedway, California in 1969… We were a generation lost in space, with no time left to start again. I remember the Stones singing something about Jack Flash and a candle stick 'cause fire is the devil’s only friend…

As I watched them on the stage, my hands were clenched in fists of rage… The Stones had hired the Hell's Angels to do their security, but no angel born in hell could break that satan’s spell when the riots started… And as flames climbed high into the night to light the 'sacrificial rite', I saw satan laughing with delight the day the music died.

I met a girl who sang the blues, Joplin was her name, and I asked her for some happy news but she… just smiled and 'turned away', to never be heard again…

After all this had transpired, I went down to the sacred store, where I’d heard the music years before… But… The man there said the music wouldn’t play.

And, in the streets, the children screamed… The grief was too great…
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed… But not a word was spoken- we were all to morose to say anything… Even the church bells all were broken.

And the three men I admire most- the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost they… They caught the 'last train for the coast' the day the music died…

You continued it perfectly. Chilling.

@Notsocool:

I'LL GET TO IT EVENTUALLY.

write an intro for the next KYM zombie RPG

First off, 10/10 for realism and accuracy on the KYM IRC story.

Now, can you write one about how I tormented DPF with that folder full of Vriska photos for around a week?

Patrick you've abandoned this thread!

Lich, Patrick, Ashbot, Loli, and Natsuru's quest to peak into a girl's changing room.

Because, you know, all perverted animes and shows has a sequence like that.

That is so fucking accurate, it's just scary.

Write a fanfic of me and madcat banging out doing bro things.

Write what happens when I drink Red Bull.

And if you read/watched the Hunger Games: Write it with KYM members.

Write a Detailed Commentary of a TF2 Match with KYM Users.

A sequel!

Seal Clubba awoke with a start, immediately beholding his faintly glowing alarm clock.

He was two hours late.

Throwing on clothes, he bolted out the door and hopped into his car, only to find that (once again,) he had forgotten to fill up. Groaning, he began jogging in the direction of his work, failing to notice the bright orange sticker on his passenger-side window. Twenty minutes of cardio later, he busted through the back entrance of the hospital and discovered that two of his higher ups were sitting at a table, drinking coffee.

"Oh, late again, are we?" laughed the chief of medicine gently.

"Again? How many times has he been late?" the disgustingly old chief of residents inquired.

"This will be the fourth time…" Seal Clubba replied, sheepishly.

Both the chiefs began laughing as the eldest chief pulled a small sheet of pink paper from his coat pocket.

"Sorry, Dr. Clubba, but we have a standard we hold all our employees to, regardless of whether or not they're a relative to the president of the board of regents."

Seal Clubba's heart rate doubled. His throat felt the driest it ever had when he weakly uttered, "But, sir, I swear I won't be late ag-"

"Just stop." the chief of medicine interjected, "You know that's a lie."

Seal Clubba took the pink slip and morosely ambled out of the building. Looking at the clouds pass by, he began to think to himself.

'Why…? Why is it every time things are going great, something like this has to happen?'

He sighed.

'I guess I can work at the vet's office full time now… I like working with animals more, and I'll be making more money than working as a resident at the very least.'

As he walked into the veterinarian's hospital he moonlighted at, he was met with the sight of the kind, old vet.

Having a massive infarction.

"Oh, God! Mr. Cornell! Mr. Cornell!!" Seal Clubba cried as he flopped down to perform cardiac massage on his boss. It was too late, though- Mr. Cornell was losing his pulse slowly but surely as his breathing became more and more shallow. Looking around, he spotted an AED on the wall cater-corner to them, and lunged for it. Shock after shock, nothing was happening… After the defibrillation proved useless, Seal called the paramedics, knowing full well that they could do nothing more than what he had already done.

Seal Clubba slumped against the wall and hid his face in his hands.

"Seal…"

He looked up. Mr. Cornell was speaking…

"Seal… Don't stop…"

Mr. Cornell was speaking his final words.

"Don't stop trying. You're a good kid, you'll go far… Tell Mariam that I… I love her. It looks like I'm… Not gonna go back home tonight…"

With that, he began a coughing fit and finally ceased being. Seal Clubba began crying as he look at the corpse of a man who helped him through college- the man who was the closest thing to a father he had ever had.

As he walked back to house, his landlord had apparently left a notice on his door.

He had been evicted.

He couldn't say it was a surprise, he had been warned that (if he missed one more rent payment), he would be kicked out into the streets, but he had thought that he had more time. His car was gone as well, but he had parked illegally the night before, so this was no shock either. He called his girlfriend from a payphone and asked if he crash at her place only to be told that she needed a break.

He sat on the curb looking out into the now-setting sun.

There he was- a doctor without a home, without a car, without a job, without a girlfriend, without everything… He was… He was…

He was Dr. Hobo.

At least he has a rainbow afro.

A long, long time ago, in a place far, far away, there was a lovely kingdom called Jay Eff Eff. All the people of Jay Eff Eff lived peacefully, without any major quarrels, and generally had fun in everything they did.

One day, a person named Suiseiseki decided that he'd try to host a get-together called 'a drawing thread', something that hadn't been successfully pulled off in quite some time. The people loved it, all of them happily contributing to it, until it occurred to them that they too could host one of these 'drawing threads'.

This marked the beginning of the era known as 'The Idiotizing'… A dark time, filled with shoddy threads, which were themselves filled with shoddy drawings.

Now, there was a Prince by the name of Verbose who was minding his own business, walking through his kingdom. The people who made the shoddy threads all decided that, if they were to get a member of the royal family and hold them for ransom, surely they'd get the respect they deserved. The Prince, a master of the sword, barely managed to hold them off long enough to escape.

Prince Verbose, terribly shaken up by this run-in, sent out a royal decree asking for the people responsible to be brought to justice. No one dared accept his challenge.

One day, a brave knight named Chris came, and rounded up all of these stupid threads. He told them that they were bad, and that they should feel bad. When the threads refused to yield and still sucked quite hard, Chris decided to take matters into his own strong, beautiful hands. He locked all the threads into a dark, scary dungeon to be kept prisoners for all time.

The Prince (hearing off the brave knight's good deeds) rewarded him justly, paying him his weight in gold, and making him a Duke.

The moral of the story?

If you make bad threads with no substance, they'll be locked.

(And… If you make good threads filled with substance, they'll be stolen… Err, sorry, RF…)

THE WALKING DEAD THREAD

March 2nd, 2023

After a pandemic wiped out the majority of Malaysia, NATO sent an investigatory group of soldiers to attempt to find and rescue any uninfected survivors. Within thirty minutes of their gunship touching down, radio contact with them was lost. A secondary rescue op, head by Seal Team 6, was sent out the following day.

Once the first group was found, all of them unconscious, Seal Team 6 immediately took off out of the country.

The report given for the mission read simply, "God has abandoned us all."

March 5th

The NATO team has been in quarantine since their return. A younger member had woken from his comatose state the night prior, only to begin screaming that something was holding him. After inquiries were made as to what he thought was holding him, he began coughing up blood and again went comatose, now suffering from tachycardia. His rate is still past what the body can endure, and yet he continues to live.

March 10th

Seal Team Six has been thrown into quarantine as well after a member began exhibiting the same symptoms as the NATO team- fatally increased heart rate and yellowing of the eyes.

March 15th

First case of the Malay Virus (as it has come to be called) found in New York City. The population of Soho has been warned to stay in doors as much as possible as an outbreak still seems avoidable.

March 21st

The first death of one of the soldiers of the NATO team occurs. Doctors present notice a peculiarly early onset of rigor mortis, which seemed to fade as the body loosened back up to a lifelike state, where it stayed. Soon after this had occurred, his body began respiration again, and his pulse resumed its high pulse rate. In light of this, doctors check him again, only to find that he was still medically dead.

The body was cremated after a postmortem MRI showed he was indeed infected by the Malay Virus- his brain stem had malignant growths that seemed to envelop his medulla oblongata, possibly the cause of his body's life-like state.

March 30th

The East Coast is lost to the virus after only two weeks. The stages of the virus seem to last shorter and shorter as the days go by.

The truly terrifying thing is that those who've been killed by the virus… They don't stay dead.

April 23rd

The deathcount is too high to accurately gauge. Hospitals are no longer accepting anyone with yellowed eyes in order to protect themselves.

May 2nd

Martial Law is set into effect as the dead begin to become violent to those without the disease.

A medical investigation was performed upon one of the infected. What they found was that the bodies are only functional to the point of walking, breathing, and…

Eating.

May 28th

The United States has fallen. Canada and Mexico have become greatly infected and aren't expected to make it much longer.

June 2nd

Russia, in a joint effort with the European Union, has been providing American survivors supplies for three days. Little did they now the virus would end up on their doorstep…

Saint Petersburg is gone. It's estimated that Europe will fall within the month's end.

The dead continue to rise. It's been confirmed that they feel no pain, have no sense of touch, and that their vision is quite poor. This hasn't, however, impeded them from causing hundreds of deaths as they feed upon the Godforsaken uninfected.

People worldwide have been urged to begin killing them without discretion.

June 12th

Germany has ordered all travel in and out of the country to be terminated. Several countries around the world (Brazil, Australia, and Japan amongst them) have followed suit, though only to discover that they've already been infected.

November 3rd

All the countries of the world have fallen. The Malay Virus, now known as the 'Red Death' to the few survivors left on the Earth, has taken everything from us.

Everything except our will to live. We can fight them. We can live on.

We will survive.

kthnxbia! ^