| # | Subject | Posts | Last Post |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Howto | 1 | 21 September 2009 22:07 |
| 2 | in case you guys lack inspiration. | 6 | 17 August 2010 15:19 |
| 3 | btard files | 4 | 18 June 2010 13:31 |
| 4 | /R/'s Daily work | 4 | 5 April 2010 03:32 |
| 5 | ">implying /a/ and /v/ are heading in that direction" | 3 | 1 March 2010 09:27 |
| 6 | /co/ and /a/ discuss Araki | 18 | 18 February 2010 22:56 |
| 7 | Halloween | 4 | 18 January 2010 17:37 |
| New Thread | All Threads | |||
This is a board for posting various writefaggotry (written stories).
The main point of interest is the "list all threads" feature: http://dis.4chanhouse.org/write/list.html
When posting a story, INCLUDE A SUBJECT so that it's easier for people to find what you posted.
The Norwegian Terror Of The Snow
It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, /tg/ and /x/tan went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and /tg/ hit /x/tan in her schlong with a big african american iceball. It hurt a lot, but /tg/ kissed it swiftly and then it was all better.
Then they decided to make a snow man.
"We'll make a really retarded snow man!" /tg/ said.
"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" /x/tan said. "That would be more lovecraftian and politically correct."
"I know," /tg/ said. "We can make a snow blue whale. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."
So they rolled the snow up hardly and made an erect snow blue whale. /tg/ put on an elder god for the testicle. The blue whale was almost as big as /x/tan.
"It looks perverted," /tg/ said adorably. "But it seems like it's missing something."Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
/co/'s journal. May 10th, 2009
a /b/tard died today, and nobody cared. worse yet, the culprit must still be out there. but /b/ had a lot of enemies.
so what is it? was somebody just cleaning up the trash of the internet? did the cancer he often spoke of finally catch up to him? or is somebody out there targeting boards?
need to warn the others, and need to get on the trail of whoever did this. will write again soon...
/co/'s journal. May 10th. 9pm
/x/ was assaulted. she escaped relatively unscathed. assailant ran off when /tg/ happened to arrive. accounts and evidence identify the attacker as /b/.
has /x/ been dealing with the occult too long that she's waking up ghosts? a copycat feeding off /b/'s infamy? or is /b/ playing us all for suckers and avenging his own 'death'?
leave /x/ in the care of /tg/ for now. he's proven himself tough and trustworthy enough to do it, even in the face of /b/ himself. he thanks me for it. not quite sure whyMessage too long. Click here to view the full text.
Midnight, /T/'s Air? Ship, /R/'s Room
* The Captain of the ship, /T/, wails his fist down on the door.
/T/: /R/! GET UP!
* Inside /R/ sat at his desk, writing in his Planner. Standing up to get the door, He writes a note to himself on his chalk board.
/R/: What is it /T/ ?
* /R/ opens the door only to get a face full of parrot. "MOAR!!!!"
/T/: Where is that Package I requested!?
* /R/ sighed and turned around to his hook stand and reached into the messenger bag there. The he pulled from it a package that was too big to fit in the bag. Checks it and passes it to /T/Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
pretty good.
/r/ kinda inspired me to want to write a short fic with /r/ as the goddamn Santa Claus.
nah. i'm too lazy to write anything.
Wrote a short script about /a/ and /v/. Because everybody loves implications.
-----------
/v/ : Hey, /a/! Open up!
/v/ : I've got somethin' for ya! ...Come on!
/v/ : ..... /a/!
/a/ : *slams open the door* /v/, stop it. I've had enough.
/v/ : We both know you ha-
/a/ : Shut it. Go away. I'm watching DEEN's piece of shit adaptation of Umineko.
/v/ : What's your problem? Stop being such a dick!
/a/ : >implying you're not the one who's being a dick
/v/ : >implying I am
/a/ : >implying fucking someone for no reason doesn't make you a humongous faggot
/v/ : >implying I like you while admitting you're a trap
/a/ : >implying you don't fuck me 'cause you like me
/v/ : >implying you enjoyed itMessage too long. Click here to view the full text.
His voice was quiet and reserved for about 15 minutes into the conversation. Voicing concerns, problems, trying to think of ways to puzzle out his social interactions, or, occasionally, lack thereof.
He took a decidedly louder upswing in his volume once /a/ realized that the conversation he was having was essentially with himself.
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?" He shouted, the whites of his eyes pocked with millions of individual cells of outright rage, while his fists balled up tight around his pleated skirt.
"Huh?" /v/ responded, not even so much as looking backwards as he opened his mouth to deliver his monosyllabic answer.
"I'VE GOT REAL FUCKING PROBLEMS HERE!" /a/ continued, unabated.
"Jesus." /v/ rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it, as it tore his attention from the screen long enough that he got shot right in the dome, and now had to wait for a respawn. "GAGH! Fucking casual fags, I swear..."
Indignant, and feeling more than a little impotent with the situation, /a/ chewed hard on his lip, spun a tight 180 on the tips of his toes, and marched right out the door.
He was going to deal with this pent up frustration somehow.Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
Still, they went on, till they just had no more energy for it. Falling asleep in /co/'s bed, /a/ resting on top, with all that resentment and anger flushed from his body. /co/ held him with one sleepy arm, as he breathed slowly, easily, the two of them gently pressed together, just as MST3K's Space Mutiny hit yet another railing kill.
They slept, free of worries, free of animosity for each other.
As for /v/?
He yelled to the internet about cheaters and casualfags and anything else that could cross his rage fueled mind as he slammed his fingers over and over again into the keyboard.
Just a little something I wrote up. Given a bit of tweaking it could probably be made into a comic; at least, that was my intention. Lemme know what you think.
Midnight. The so-called "witching hour," when the barrier between this world and the next was at its thinnest, when spirits whispered in the ears of those who were willing to listen, when chilly breezes blew in through open windows and caused shivers to run down the spines of insomniacs like /x/. /x/ knew that she should have been asleep hours ago; it had been days since she's had a decent night's rest, and she could feel fatigue pulling at her eyelids, but still, she sat at her desk, the nearby lamp pointed directly at the book open in front of her. She bent down closer to it, her eyes squinting to make out the complex formulae printed on the paper, then picked up a pencil, scribbling something on the piece of paper set below the book, already covered with various numbers and incomprehensible words. After several more minutes of this, she closed the book with a satisfied smile, then snatched up the paper and a velvet drawstring bag from the desk, taking both of them and running out of her room with barely a backward glance. /x/ hurried up the stairs, not wanting to be late for the night's activities. Hurrying up the stairs to her destination, she could scarcely see where she was going; late as it was, the hallways of the apartment building were lit only by moonlight and the occasional shaft of light shining from behind a closed door. As she rounded the corner of the third floor, she could hear voices quietly speaking behind a closed door. She approached the door and knocked once on it, before a voice from the other side answered.
"Come in, /x/. We've been expecting you."
Pushing the door open with a slight creaking sound, she stepped into the room, which was lit by a plethora of candles set atop various shelves. She could see three other shadowy figures sitting at a table topped with several pieces of paper and books very similar to the one she had been reading from earlier. She took a seat at the table, setting her piece of paper in front of her and opening the drawstring bag to draw out several small, polyhedral objects.
"The game tonight, ladies and gentlemen, is Vampire: the Masquerade."
/x/ smiled. It had been /tg/'s idea to hold a midnight Vampire game on Halloween night; what better time, he had reasoned, to play a game about bloodsucking fiends lurking in the darkness? Beside her, /co/ leaned back in his chair, sipping from a can of Mountain Dew, while across from her /k/ crouched over an open rulebook, a puzzled look on his face. /tg/ sat to her right, absentmindedly twirling a pencil between his fingers while observing the goings-on. /x/ turned to /tg/, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
"Hand me a Mountain Dew, will you? I need caffeine."
Catching the can /tg/ drew from the box next to him, she popped the top open and took a sip, letting the carbonated beverage do its work and keep her awake for a little bit longer. There would be time to sleep later; for now, she had a game to play.Message too long. Click here to view the full text.