Storythread

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hopefully this thread will still be here tomorrow, because for the first time in ages I actually plan on writing something.

night everyone.

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Good luck user!

Provided we keep bumping it, it usually lasts a decent while.

Will also write something in a bit, if an image grabs me.

Pretty sure there's already an official story with that woman, Amberly Vail.

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Greeetings Chronicler, thank you for making another weekly storythread since I might have one story in mind.

Though may I ask you make one minor edit in the Storythread article in 1D4chan.org?

Could you add a link or mention that the Demonium Gang story:

>1d4chan.org/wiki/File:Demonium.png

Is part of the same setting/world as the White Scarf?

>1d4chan.org/images/5/5b/TheWhiteScarf.png

Ya know? Just to inform the people that the Demonium Gang Story is a worldbuilding story that focuses on or takes place in the same setting as the White Scarf? Thanks if you'd do so.

And thanks for having it featured in the wiki page too Chronicler...

So fellow storythread goers, to any of you who've read the White Scarf; made by me, what do you think of this story that ain't a sequel but is just meant for worldbuilding?

Any thoughts?

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Done

>And thanks for having it featured in the wiki page too Chronicler.
No problem, but I put everything on the wiki page. (Eventually. As I said, some of the one-post stories are still hanging around because I put them in the miscellaneous section, which requires me to arrange them into a single image. It's surprisingly tiresome trying to get them to fit into something small enough that it will upload properly.)

Oops, forgot both my trip and the image I was going to post. Incidentally I'm going out for the next for hours, so if people could keep an eye on the thread that would be great.

From Bryce's Bestiary :
The Firey Moon Jelly is native to the southern reaches of the continent. It is named for the color of its soft glow rather than any heat or flaming self defense. The colonials have taken to herding schools of them into their city limits where the creatures become semi-tame and quite useful. They are active during the twilight and evening hours at which time their gentle luminescence attracts small insects and pest animals. The smallest FMJ's will take mosquitos and moths, while the largest have been seen to take mice and even the occasional rat. They appear to do their best to avoid anything larger than a house cat, probably as a defense as outside of towns they are known to be prey to the Greater and Lesser Harpy Owls, and some of the more savage humanoids. During the daylight hours they roost under the second story eaves of houses or similarly high and sheltered areas.

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He rung the bell with his left hand.
A heart-shaped container was tucked under his right arm, a bouquet tucked in his left.
Valentine's day, right? Chocolates and flowers were expected, and cheap props too. It drew attention away from the 1911 in his right hand.

He tried to keep the tension off his face. It wasn't working.

He'd never killed anyone before.

A man in a suit, male, in his thirties, some sort of secretary answered the door.
"Oh, Hi there! How can I-"
He raised his arm and fired, twice. There wasn't time to assume a proper firing stance. At this range it didn't matter. Twin bullets penetrated the chest and punctured organs.
Brass clinked on the balcony among the scattered chocolates. The container had dropped and fell open when he raised his arm. He didn't notice. He threw the flowers aside.

He shoved his way past the falling secretary. Movement, upstairs. His arm tracked and fired by instinct. A nurse, female, no older than twenty collapsed away from the railing, clutching a hole in her sternum.

He almost balked. Then he remembered: There must be no witnesses. He saw stairs on the right for the balcony. He hurried up.

The balcony was part of a long corridor, doors scattered here and there. On the third one he tried, he got jackpot. When he pushed the door open he saw white privacy curtains shining with sunlight.

He swept the curtain aside. An old lady was laying in bed, covered in liver spots and electrodes. An IV drip of clear solution went entirely unnoticed.
"Ah- wha-" She managed to gasp when he pressed the gun against her forehead. Blood and grey matter splashed and stained the bed. Mission complete.

A scream, male, young, echoed up from below. There must be no witnesses. He hurried down.

Someone was struggling to move the body of the secretary. He was nine years old.

For a moment he stayed his hand. There must be no witnesses. He shot the kid.

There was no more resistance. There was no more killing either. He searched the house with mechanical thoroughness, and found no one else. He ran to his car.

He was halfway back to Houston when he pulled over for a refill. He got out to operate the pump.
A shadow behind it extended inky arms and seized him by the cuffs. He stared at it dumbly.

"She's dead?" A voice of ultrasonic pitches and infrasonic rumbles issued forth. Somehow he understood it.

"Yes." Recognition sparked within some tiny portion of his brain, struggled desperately like a man gagged and bound.

"No witnesses?"

"None." Something had his mind in a grip like a vice, making him say things. What...?

"Good." He couldn't react as the shadow pressed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger.

Nice story. Succinct, and it has punch.

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This counts as work safe, right? I got it off a Veeky Forums mermaid thread months back.

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What is a part of the Veeky Forums storythread canon here?

Most anything.

It's not a world building thread, It's a "Reaction Image prompt" thread with it's shirt tucked in.

More of what I meant, is the stories that are generally accept as the most important, influential, or literary

It was the last day of the summer. The festival was already over to celebrate the beginning of the harvest and all the adults went to sleep. However, there were children that were still awake, looking for the rumors of a meteor shower in the sky.
Among those kids were the twins, Sheri and Shane. They were the children of farmers, set to go to separate schools tomorrow. This would be the last night they would get to spend together before being sent so far away from each other. Their hope was that even one of those shooting stars might actually grant their wish, that they wouldn't be forced to stay so far apart.

As the the sky started streaking with the hail of light, the twins grabbed hands. Their grips were tight, their minds raced in unison with a single though: 'I don't want to be spend even a day apart with the person apart from me.' They both tried to apologize for every slight they could remember, the days where they skipped out on helping their father with tending to the fields or forgot to do their chores. There was only one thing that they refused to touch: Their relationship with each other.

It was perhaps a measure of narcissism that led them to each other's arms. They were already different from most of the children by their unnaturally pale hair and skin, contrasts to the more bronzed skin and dark hair most of the locals had. Their appearance was also identical, leading to several complications to their relationships - mistaken confessions, invitations to an event they knew nothing about, even an accidental prank on the wrong twin. Shane came to realize that Sheri was the only girl who wasn't afraid of him and Sheri understood that Shane was the only boy who was there for her. The only people they could rely on was themselves. The slide down that particular slope was not difficult, not when both of them decided to learn about kissing with each other. The road from there was even less slippery.

As far as I know we have no such thing.

There is a wiki page for Storythreads:1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread which has all the stories Chronicler has saved from Storythreads. Might make for a good read.

There was never any super stand out stories? Nothing that have influenced this place? These threads have been going on for a while now, I would think that there would have been enough time to gestate, and parse out something, you know?

I'll get to reading though, thanks for the link

If there were no one told me.

What's the most popular story you remember

Is it possible to write a rape scene in fantasy without it feeling either exploitative and gross, but without resorting to the cop out of fading to black?

Any writers input on the matter?

Curiously, nobody paid any mind about the twins' relationship. The kids at school never made any mention on the idea that the twins were getting close to each other, maybe too close. The teachers they had never batted an eye on this bond between them. Perhaps it was this lack of acknowledgement that spurred them further on, believing that such an intimate relationship between siblings, especially twins, was acceptable.
Their parents, however, were an entirely different issue. They eventually caught on and, during one night a month ago where the twins thought everyone was asleep, they found out how far that road led. From there, the parents began asking around and realized how there was so little integrity involved if such an act of incest could be allowed with such little to stop them. They blamed themselves for not being better parents. They blamed the town for not stopping them. Their last decision was to uproot this relation in the most abrupt fashion - transfer. There was a boy's school and girl's school near the town that the twins would have to go from now on, and hopefully their episode would eventually become little more than just a memory.

That is not to say, however, that this was the way it had to end. That was the one thing Shane and Sheri counted on the most this night's meteor shower. They understood that nothing might sway their parents, but they wanted something, anything to ensure that they always remembered each other. As the shower died down, they could only focus on each other's eyes, trying to burn the image of that other half into their mind. This was the half that would be gone come tomorrow.
As the last stars died in the sky, there was only faint and fading moonlight left to illuminate their faces. They decided that if this would be the last night they would spend together then they had to spend it the way they wanted, with only the moon watching.

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Shane cradled Sheri's head the entire time, keeping her calm the whole time through while his other hand made sure his dear sister felt good. Sheri knew how much Shane loved her kisses and made sure to keep up the pressure as she kissed his face and neck. Neither of them said much the whole time, there were too many things they wanted to say, they knew they would miss their beloved other dearly. Even saying 'I love you' felt odd for them because that did nothing to make the pain of being so far away from their lover any less. Perhaps it was just as well - as twins they knew what the other was thinking, making words insufficient to express what they felt.

The twins returned before their parents woke up. Their little escape came to an end. Their parents explained that buses would be coming to pick them up to drive to their schools. They would be living there, no way for them to return home except for a few weeks at the end of each semester.
As the twins awaited for their buses, they remembered the brochures for their schools. They exchanged those slips of papers as the bus for the boy's school arrived. Before Shane boarded, he gave Sheri one last kiss and one last request.
>Let's meet here again.
Sheri watched as her brother was taken away with a smile. It was a promise she swore she would fulfill.

>END

Got two aviation themes pictures for writing prompts.

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Honestly, no, I don't think it is - rape is, by nature, as you say, exploitative and gross.

The only thing I can think of that comes close is if you wrote the scene from the POV of the rapist - and if they were mentally ill/off kilter enough to not recognize what they were doing was wrong. Even then, to the audience reading it it'd be pretty creepy.

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Desire For Flight

Anna always wanted to fly since she was a little girl. She would often watch the birds overhead, as they soared overhead, wondering what it felt like to not be tethered to the ground. So when she met the Pink Thing in the woods, and she woke up with the ability to escape the Earth at any point, it was a dream come true. Most of the others were suspicious of their gifts, but Anna didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, on Halloween, it was a no Brainerd to try out a witch costume. She dressed herself in the traditional witch's hat and jacket, plus a broom for the complete look. She took out a knife, and cut her hand, activating her power. She felt her legs lift off the ground, and felt the warmth of the Pink Thing's power leech through her. Then she placed the broom between her legs, and lifted off.

God. It felt even better than she remembered. Her hair slapped her face as she flew faster and faster. The clouds doused her face with water, but she didn't care. An airplane appeared up ahead.

Getting an idea, she pushed herself further. Her broom was soon right next to the plane, and she waved at the passengers. Several people within took out their phones and took pictures. Anna wondered if that would be a problem. The Pink Thing often said that secrecy was paramount.

Anna continued to soar through the skies. Eventually, she got tired, and flew to the ground. Dismounting from the broom, she recalled her power. Immediately, she felt the wave of nausea that followed the use of powers. Then came the usual visions of blood that were the other aftereffects. The Pink Thing never explained where they came from, and Anna didn't care.

All she cared about was that she could finally fly.

>A journal entry of an elven waiter

So people, mostly humans, some dwarves, halflings, and visiting cat and reptillian folk as me; Malon Ilinan, 'Why does an elf such as yourself work as a waiter? A barmaid in a tavern inn? I thought elves mostly worked as esteemed wizards, mages, artists and or sophisticated warriors?'

Well true, elves being the majestic, wise, knowledgeable, long-lived and beautiful people such as myself are. Not every elf is some wizard or whatnot, granted I'm mostly a High-Elf, my mother is a High-Elf whereas my father is a Wood Elf.

I have my father's Wood Elf blood, which means I have very, VERY little to no magical abilities and or capabilities that High-Elves are born with. Yet I retain my High-Elf mother's thin fit body structure... Not a good combination if you ask me, my father's Wood Elf blood prevents me from being a full or potential magic user, and while some may say I should be athletic and 'Buff' as my Wood Elf father. My mother's thin and skinny High-Elf body makes it very difficult for me to do the same type of heavy lifting that Wood Elves can do. I have even earned the mockery of old elven neighbors, classmates and mean acquaintances for being a 'Human with pointy ears,' because of how I was born of not have the special traits of either my parents due to how genetics can work in odd ways sometimes. Bad luck for me I guess.

So I did the only thing I could do best, work menial and manual labor, though my parents were kind and considerate enough to suggest I work in the catering services since my good elven looks can help me and my business get more customers. To which I did work in the catering and service line since I had not much of a choice, due to my lack of arcane mastery or even high physical strength and prowess.

I was able to land myself a job as a waiter in a decent enough tavern and inn, 'The Vintage Peasant' is what its called.

So far it is working out quite well for me, so much so that the pay makes me live just well enough in my apartment since moved out of my parent's home about two years ago while applying for catering service jobs. But I still do write letters to them of how I'm doing pretty well and that my pay is pretty nice enough for me to afford living in a decent middle-class apartment. Nothing too fancy nor for poor folk.

I earn about 50 gold coins per shift, about 350 a week, which is slightly high for just a waiter working in middle-class inn worth an everage three stars. Well that's because the two owners of the Vintage Peasant consider me as some form of advertising; 'Come to our inn, we have a beautiful, charming and gentle mannered elven man to serve you with smiles.'

There logic behind that reasoning is because I live in a human majority city, though there are non-humans here and there who're also my customers too, its just that the city I live in is mostly inhabited by humans. I suppose I shouldn't be offended since it gives me some form of recognition and shows I'm best suited for the catering services type of jobs. Still I should consider moving in finding a job to work in the higher end restaurants and establishments, but right now I'll stick to what I have.

However there is another thing that comes with my job, especially with me being an elf in a human majority city. I sometimes have to deal with perverted customers, especially the drunken and intoxicated ones.

And I will admit in this journal of mine:

Yes I have been sleeping with strangers. About four 'clients' so far I have offered full sessions; two humans, a man and a woman, one male catfolk and a fellow elf, a woman who was lonely and actually paid me 500 gold coins out of pity in seeing a 'poor fellow elf working in such a position... Mostly it was when the patrons are renting a room in the inn I work at where they'd be to drunk to walk upstairs by themselves.

And to which I'd sometimes have to offer my part time lewd services when they'd ask for some company for the night. Sometimes it comes in the form of bedding with them or even offering oral sex, and again I have been sleeping with male patrons too, despite being a man myself.

I Once had to give this fat middle aged human male a fellatio, and there was this other young human of 18 years of age who was 'curious' to experiment and did not mind nor cared that I were male. But on the bright side I charged high price, as in hundreds if I were to spend a night bedding with a patron.

Originally I protested when the owners suggested I offer my body to some patrons, but they said I can do it if 'I'm in the mood.' Or if I 'Feel like it.' But then again, due to what I was stuck with, especially when they said I can charge them a very high sum due to me being an elf which is a rare sight in this human majority city. I just simply had to deal with it and simply work hard till I'am able to move further to the upper-class districts of this Human-Majority City and find a catering service job in an even higher-end establishment.

I never mentioned my side-job of part time whoring in the letters I write to my parents, I can never imagine their reaction when they realize the job that their son has taken is whoring and being ploughed in the ass by random men. And ploughing random women, some of whom may not be faithful wives to their husbands.

OMEGA IS MONITORING THIS THREAD. :-)

>Next page or so

...And so begins another shift of mine in the Vintage Peasant, and I can still feel the ache in both my ass and groin from that married I couple I serviced the other night. That woman sure was serious when she was going to ride me like a stallion, and the pounding from that man. Damn did he thrust really hard into me, I guess despite being married they decided to have one last night of decadence and perversion with a young elven man working as barmaid for an inn.

I was just doing the normal routine as what any waiter would do. Greet the patrons (some of whom already know me or are familiar of me after hearing that the Vintage Peasant has a pretty faced elf man working as a waiter) take their orders and serve food and drink.

So far there aren't any drunken and intoxicated patrons talking loudly about or trying to fondle and grope me nor are there any patrons asking me to walk them upstairs to their rooms and have sex. This was likely going to be an average night as I'd be willing to complete this night's shift and head home, in no mood to for any literal fucking right now.

I was just cleaning up some used dishes and cups, till I met her, that bard. "Hey there beautiful, you must be Malon Ilinan." I was slightly startled when I heard her voice the first time. I turned my head to the left and saw her as she continued. "The name's Karmen Harma. Sorry if I startled you there, or is this the first time you met a bard?"

One of the two owners of the Vintage Peasant, Tarvi Vistut, called to me. "Malon, I see you met a new addition to this fine establishment, miss Karmen Harma. A recent graduate of the Bard's University, she'll be here to add some music in here. Go on and get to know each other, and your shift should end by an hour Malon."

"I see, this place could have used some songs now that you mentioned it. And thanks, finally I can spend a night just laying in bed and reading a book by an hour."

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Whoa user I think you're walking in some dangerous territory with mentions of some lewd elements. Still continue, willing to find out what happens next.

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Sorry to be the one to bring this up, but the plane in the picture is a Mirage 2000, a single seat fighter jet in service with the French Air Force.

Ooops. I did write it while half-asleep

The Dope-Priest prophecy was at hand.

The Morbid-Angel, Testament, and Exodus, the three Electric Wizards, the Sons of Kyuss, had finally summoned the great daemon lord. The Horn of the Rhino, the once-grand Mastodon who Cracked the Skye when the world was still young, in the age of the Rainbow.

At the dawn of the Black Sabbath, during the midst of the great Boredoms, he rose. From the spire of Cirith Ungol, he let out a cry so piercing, it even shattered the invulnerable Diamond Head of the Falkenbach kingdom, far in the north.

Distressed by the cry, Ofnir, the one-eyed god of War, empowered the greatest of his warriors, the Queen of Brocas Helm. With a prayer and blessings from a skald, in her mighty Fortress, she set off to find the Horn of the Rhino.

She traveled far, receiving runic magic from the warrior-priests of Bathory, knowledge of darkness and fire from the Bear-Cult of Burzum, and finally, she received a decorated shortsword from the Elvenking, who she had romanced in her time.

With these gifts, the blessings of the great Ofnir, and her own talents, she set off to find her quarry.

Traveling to the forsaken mountain-range of Mortiis, where the Koripklaani people once lived, she sought to confront the Dope-Priests and their terrible ruler.

Finally, at the end of her quest, dressed nearly Skyclad as per the traditions of her kind, she aimed to destroy the greatest threat to this strange Earth.

Her spear, which was rumored to have been stuck in the side of Ofnir himself during his pursuit for knowledge, was broken effortlessly in half. Her runic magic and blessings failed to stop his terrible claws. Ultimately, left with only her arming sword, she gouged the daemon's eyes out, and slicing out its tongue as it was about to unleash yet another feral shriek.

Soon, the priests were slaughtered as well, doomed to spend an eternity with their master, the now Blind Guardian of hell.

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So storythread anons, I would like some advice. I've drafted up a few hundred thousand words of my little fantasy world and adventure. I'm in the process of preparing the draft for publishing now.

Is it worth considering a professional proof reader?

Also I'm curious about publishing options for this stuff. I'm thinking Amazon is sadly my best bet. Though I'll send the draft off to some other places too. Any advice?

Roc publishing via Penguin might be worth a shot, all the publishers that push the usual genre shit. If you have the money and want to trust someone looking at your manuscript then yeah it might be worth a professional proof reader.

Then again spellcheck does most of that shit these days.

I guess what I'm looking for is maybe an editor? Someone to read it all through and take it to bits with?

I mean it was a tg project to start with anyway so I figured I'd ask advice here.

well an Editor is something entirely different, and usually a deeply personal relationship. For starters if you read comics a good book has an editor who rides herd on his writer(s) keeps their continuity straight, minimizes plotholes, reigns in their excesses etc.

If you want to sell you're an entertainer, that means you're making a product for consumption and the editor usually has an eye for that.

I think that is exactly what I want to find.

I'm fairly sure it's marketable stuff but asking user to pay to read stuff is a bit different than me posting the barebones stuff online.

yeah you might want to shop around at the proper publishing houses first, this is kind of something you pay a manager to do which is what Editors are for Writers.

Gotcha.

Thanks user. I've felt for a while now I need like...a partner? No one makes a baby on their own if you get me.

no problem, best of luck my man.

Worst case scenario there's always amazon.

Cheers user and to you in your endeavours.

pastebin.com/Rgg4K5SC

By the way if anyone is bored have some of my most recent writefaggotry that appeared on Veeky Forums

>Spaceborrowers

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Karmen asked me. "So Malon, tell me if you don't mind. Why's a high-elf like you working in a place like this? Usually elves are illustrious magic users, artists and politicians. While wood elves are the greater hunters and tend to be better physical fighters and warriors than most humans and some orcs. Yet here you are, working as waiter. Not trying to be offensive mind you, just asking if you don't mind."

"Well its quite a tale you see, involving the genes of your parents, my mother's a high-elf whereas my father is wood elf. Including some matters social acceptance, so on and so forth. Basically I'm not born with the 'best' traits of either of my parents. And I'm just a thin and gaunt being with pointed ears, regardless I still go on wit my life and do my best in the catering service occupation, to which I'm doing well in." I told Karmen while busying myself with gathering as much of the used dishes I could gather, as I was about to head of to the kitchen to have them cleaned by the dishwashers. I bumped to Karmen's friend and bodyguard while thankfully not spilling the used dining ware.

"Oh dear! Sorry sir, I didn't mean to bump onto you like that."

"Oh, apologies accepted. You've meet Karmen have you?"

Karmen then spoke, "Oh yes. Malon, that man you are seeing is my friend and traveling companion, Natan."

And the man I bump to fully introduced himself to me. "Yes, Natan Demets at your service. I travel with Miss Karmen Harma here as both a bodyguard and a friend."

Bodyguard? I inquired. "A bodyguard you say? For a bard? Are you important miss Harma?"

I asked her as I glanced to her. "Oh no, Natan and I just know each other for some time now and decided to travel with me since the sellsword life felt dull for him."

"Its true. Not to mention Karmen keeps me entertained with her musical skills as a bard and all."

Do you have an agent?