Yeah but nobody cares about Russia.

Multilingualism. If I were a proper linguist, a massive job market would open itself to me.

People who let getting shot affect their lives are pathetic, IMO. I've been shot before, and with some willpower, I'm able to brush it off. It's not hard. The people who complain about being shot do it for attention.

Quote from: Chakas on March 13, 2015, 03:26:14 PM

Quote from: Elegiac on March 13, 2015, 03:18:45 PM

why didn't you wrap them in bacon as well and stick little american flags in them

We were out of American flags and the dog ate all the bacon.

Why not wrap them in dog meat, then?

I daydream about feeling joy
its pretty hard

I daydream of two people fighting each other, exaggerated fighting like anime and shiet

Quote from: Chakas on March 10, 2015, 06:59:17 PM

This could be some sort of mental thing like schizophrenia or, depending on your beliefs, could be considered something demonic and all sorts of creepy fucked up. I've had some pretty nasty experiences myself, but nothing like what you described. Most of what I've experienced is very different kind of scary than what you described. I once describe my experiences on B.OLD, but everyone called me crazy and said I was making the shit up. I believe that was an another account though.

lol. I highly doubt I'm being possessed by demons and shit. But that would be an interesting experience that's for sure.

Quote from: Chakas on March 10, 2015, 06:39:23 PM

Quote from: Sandtrap on March 10, 2015, 06:37:03 PM

Quote from: Chakas on March 10, 2015, 06:07:16 PM

Quote from: Sandtrap on March 10, 2015, 06:06:09 PM

Heyo Chakas. Nice sci-fi ladies. Who doesn't like synthetic material clad ass?

On topic. I don't daydream much. Focus too much on the job at hand. Only on breaks do I do some thinking. And usually it's a story. Technology, devices, concepts, characters and so on.

Stories can be daydreams too. As far as I'm concerned, stories are all my daydreams are.

Well in that case, we arrive at the same conclusion. Only difference is, I don't ever return to a daydream. Once I've written it down, it's purged outta my head and I move on to another one.

Same here. But that shouldn't effect what you post here. Go for it. Hold nothing back. I didn't.

The fuck do you want me to post?

I can write 120 page long stories now. I post that shit here I'll get crucified. But i'll explain the premise my stories usually follow. They always start with something I like. Something kinky or exotic. Something different. And then the story forms around it because I don't just like writing plain and simple smut. It needs a why and a how. The encounter needs characters. The characters need personalities.

The story needs a life of it's own. It's basically what I've heard someone say only once. They coined it as "intelligent erotica." The erotic bits are just icing on the cake really. There's a focus on the story and the world as well.

So, you wanna read? Here's the opening to my latest project. Rough copy for now. And since you want to read, I'll do you a favor and read what you posted.

Spoiler

Columns of smoke blew out across the horizon on the winds, on grey skies as the early morning sun dawned. Always, across the grey battered landscape, under the rubble of once towering superstructures which now lay sprawled across the ground overtop of each other in a great tangle like a fallen forest. Jericho stared up through the haze of grey, of smoke and fires on the winds. Up, up far beyond the scorched ground he walked on, to the immense blotch in the sky.

   He couldn’t make out the finer details. But it was always there. More light filtered in through the everlasting haze of dust and smoke that blew across the ruins of this world. The sound of gunfire in the distance brought his attention away from the sky. Jericho sighed.

“Right. Go over this with me, one more time.”

Standing in front of him, another man, as worn and dirty as Jericho himself, clad in rough and by now barely functioning armour for its intended purpose, smiled under a veil across his face as he held a small pistol up to Jericho, keeping it steady on him. The man pointed up to the blotch in the sky.

“It’s a simple damn plan Jericho. You get up there. Find a way to smuggle some of what they’ve got on that ship down here. And if you can’t do that, sabotage the other side. It’s our only chance.”

Jericho looked up the station that hung in the sky.

“Do we even have any idea what’s up in that ship?”

The man shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. We need what they have. It’s the only way we’re going to win down here. It’s us or them Jer. That ship up there is just making everything a damn stalemate.”

Jericho sighed.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The man raised his gun once more.

“Hey, if it counts for anything, you’re the best man for this job Jer. I know you’ll get us what we need. You always do. It’ll be fine.”

The man chuckled.

“And hey. It’s not every day I get to shoot your smug ass.”

Jericho rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.”

Jericho sighed, holding out his arms.

“Right. Remember. I need to be dying. Not dead. Gutshot. Punctured lung. That whole deal.”

“Jer. I’m a crack shot.”

Jericho took a deep breath.

“Right. Okay.”

The man chuckled.

“It’s gonna hurt Jer.”

“I’ve been shot before.”

“Not like this.”

Jericho sighed.

“Right. On three.”

The man across from Jericho nodded.

“Okay. Ready? One.”

Jericho took a deep breath and spoke.

“Two.”

A bolt of energy discharged from the pistol, traveling clean through Jericho’s chest, vaporizing whatever the beam passed through and exiting out the other side. The pistol hummed as its power cells cycled and two more shots rang out, passing through him and burning clean through. The wounds were clean. Surgical in their mathematical perfection as the beams passed through him.

   But pain became a quickly arriving feeling as Jericho’s legs gave out from under him and all sense of balance was discarded as he fell onto the dirt and ash, now dying. The man walked up to Jericho.

“Sorry Jer. Hurts less if you don’t expect it. I’ve gotta scram before the drones show up to get you. Best of luck pal.”

The man patted Jericho on the shoulder as he was helpless to say anything as he clutched at the dirt and gasped for air as his vision started to fade. Footsteps rung in his ears as the man began running. Gunfire sounded out in the distance, a background noise across the entire planet like the forgotten and unnoticed thump of a heartbeat.

   And on the wind, as ash and dust blew across the remnants of this fallen world, the hum of engines could be heard. Drones, quickly making landfall from sub-orbital levels, which scoured the entire planet with nearly uncountable numbers, were now coming for him. Descending down to his dying form like vultures.

But, to most, to simple people, simple minded or uneducated because this world had only known fighting for so long, these machines were not vultures.

They were angels.

Jericho’s vision faded to black as the last thing burned into his eyes was light. Bright searchlights and scanners.

He had his ticket to heaven now.

Quote from: Chakas on March 10, 2015, 06:22:12 PM

Why is no one posting any details? It takes the fun out of it.

Well, mine depend on my mood.
Sometimes I'm fighting out of rage, sometimes to protect someone, other times just because I can.
Nearly always barehanded aganist enemies equiped variously.

Uhh violence and other stuff...

One thought I've had stuck in my head since I rewatched Man of Steel a few months back is, assuming somebody with superpowers showed up in real life, what would they really do with them? I can't help but think up little scenarios of what a real, actual person, who does not have the same extreme morals or lack thereof and ingrained inclination to help or hurt people that fictional superheroes and villains have, would do if they suddenly found out they were basically a god.

So I started asking myself what I would do. It's hard to come up with a definite scenario, so I end up daydreaming of something different every time.

Heyo Chakas. Nice sci-fi ladies. Who doesn't like synthetic material clad ass?

On topic. I don't daydream much. Focus too much on the job at hand. Only on breaks do I do some thinking. And usually it's a story. Technology, devices, concepts, characters and so on.