What's the Weirdest Thing You've Ever Written?

Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
When I was twenty I wrote an account of every pathological memory I had in an attempt to understand and remedy my depression. What I ended up making was essentially an encyclopedia on myself, complete with a glossary (because it was large).

That and a certain story about the unscrupulous sexual adventures of a man named Jerry <_<


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
my bee movie fanfic


Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
my bee movie fanfic
Why haven't you posted it here?


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
ok but it's a really hard hitting drama, don't read unless you're emotionally prepared

Spoiler
Barry looked out the cold soulless glass of the flower shop window. Raining again. Water falling out of the sky like tears from an orphaned civilization.

"The ten million sheep keep grazing," Barry murmured to himself. "The slime and filth of New York all runs downhill." Benson & Associates didn't take off like Barry dreamed it would. The only clients he got were scumbag addicts who couldn't find their antenna if it was hanging in front of them.

The flower shop door opened, and a mosquito flew in. "Fucking bloodsuckers," Barry grumbled, lighting a cigarette. The flame burned like the embers of a forgotten time. Barry could hardly remember the last time he was happy; working for Honex and spending time with Adam and Vanessa. Adam was now the CEO of Honesco and fired half the bees to save money, and Vanessa hadn't been the same since she started drinking.

"Mr Benson, hello?" The mosquito buzzed around Barry. "Oh god, I need your help. PLEASE!"

Barry took another drag from his cigarette and rolled his eyes. "What is it, asshole?" He couldn't stand insect filth who wasted his time.

Time. Like the gears of a machine, turning in place, never reaching a conclusion. Barry's time never ended. He had prayed for death before, but no one answered. He used to believe in God, but now God was like a moat flowing through a windmill.

The mosquito put its face in its hands. "Oh god...the kids...Elaine...they're all dead."

"Let me guess, you got drunk and flew into a rage." The rain kept coming.

"What? God no, Barry. It was...it was a car accident. The SUV pulled out in front of me, I had no time to react!"

Barry scoffed. "Yeah right, punk. Let me guess, you were on the pipe again?"

"No Barry, I'm off that stuff! You've gotta believe m-"

Suddenly a giant bare foot came down in front of Barry, crushing the mosquito. Barry looked up and saw Vanessa smirk at him, sangria in her hand. Then she silently walked away.

"What a bitch," Barry thought.

The rest of the day dragged on. Barry smoked cigarette after cigarette. He would've tried to steal some of Vanessa's liquor, but he knew the consequences if he was caught. He looked out the window again. The city was slowing down, falling asleep. Robots following their programming. Spurred on only by the promise of a divine reward.

"Cowards," Barry thought. He took another puff and coughed. The smoke had completely filled his tiny bee body. He doubled over in pain and fell to the hardwood floor. The floor was as cold as a drinking a glass of water after you chew a piece of mint gum. Except way colder than that.

Barry felt enormous pain as he started to succumb to tobacco poisoning. He saw Vanessa stumble into the room and make eye contact with him. She was holding a bottle of vodka now.

"Vanessa...kill me." Barry pleaded.

Vanessa just laughed at his plight and left the shop.

"Wh...what a bitch..."

Barry couldn't take the pain anymore. He had to end it. He crawled over to the couch and took a deep breath before plunging his stinger into the fabric. The pounding rain coming from the sky started to subside into a light drizzle. As the stinger left his body, Barry sighed in relief. It would all bee over soon.


 
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porn


 
Cheat
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Hmm...
Wrote some sick Twilight fanfics.


Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
porn
I'm having difficulty imagining you writing erotic fiction.


 
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I'm having difficulty imagining you writing erotic fiction.

if someone got off to what i wrote there's probably something wrong with them


Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
porn
I'm having difficulty imagining you writing erotic fiction.

if someone got off to what i wrote there's probably something wrong with them
I think the same could be said of the story I wrote. I wonder if Yu has ever written anything lascivious...


 
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The Rage....
my brazilian fart porn review


 
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ok but it's a really hard hitting drama, don't read unless you're emotionally prepared

Spoiler
Barry looked out the cold soulless glass of the flower shop window. Raining again. Water falling out of the sky like tears from an orphaned civilization.

"The ten million sheep keep grazing," Barry murmured to himself. "The slime and filth of New York all runs downhill." Benson & Associates didn't take off like Barry dreamed it would. The only clients he got were scumbag addicts who couldn't find their antenna if it was hanging in front of them.

The flower shop door opened, and a mosquito flew in. "Fucking bloodsuckers," Barry grumbled, lighting a cigarette. The flame burned like the embers of a forgotten time. Barry could hardly remember the last time he was happy; working for Honex and spending time with Adam and Vanessa. Adam was now the CEO of Honesco and fired half the bees to save money, and Vanessa hadn't been the same since she started drinking.

"Mr Benson, hello?" The mosquito buzzed around Barry. "Oh god, I need your help. PLEASE!"

Barry took another drag from his cigarette and rolled his eyes. "What is it, asshole?" He couldn't stand insect filth who wasted his time.

Time. Like the gears of a machine, turning in place, never reaching a conclusion. Barry's time never ended. He had prayed for death before, but no one answered. He used to believe in God, but now God was like a moat flowing through a windmill.

The mosquito put its face in its hands. "Oh god...the kids...Elaine...they're all dead."

"Let me guess, you got drunk and flew into a rage." The rain kept coming.

"What? God no, Barry. It was...it was a car accident. The SUV pulled out in front of me, I had no time to react!"

Barry scoffed. "Yeah right, punk. Let me guess, you were on the pipe again?"

"No Barry, I'm off that stuff! You've gotta believe m-"

Suddenly a giant bare foot came down in front of Barry, crushing the mosquito. Barry looked up and saw Vanessa smirk at him, sangria in her hand. Then she silently walked away.

"What a bitch," Barry thought.

The rest of the day dragged on. Barry smoked cigarette after cigarette. He would've tried to steal some of Vanessa's liquor, but he knew the consequences if he was caught. He looked out the window again. The city was slowing down, falling asleep. Robots following their programming. Spurred on only by the promise of a divine reward.

"Cowards," Barry thought. He took another puff and coughed. The smoke had completely filled his tiny bee body. He doubled over in pain and fell to the hardwood floor. The floor was as cold as a drinking a glass of water after you chew a piece of mint gum. Except way colder than that.

Barry felt enormous pain as he started to succumb to tobacco poisoning. He saw Vanessa stumble into the room and make eye contact with him. She was holding a bottle of vodka now.

"Vanessa...kill me." Barry pleaded.

Vanessa just laughed at his plight and left the shop.

"Wh...what a bitch..."

Barry couldn't take the pain anymore. He had to end it. He crawled over to the couch and took a deep breath before plunging his stinger into the fabric. The pounding rain coming from the sky started to subside into a light drizzle. As the stinger left his body, Barry sighed in relief. It would all bee over soon.
I'm very amused. Bleak. Punchy. You can string words together ok


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My suicide note.


 
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"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably."
—Judge Aaron Satie
——Carmen
ok but it's a really hard hitting drama, don't read unless you're emotionally prepared

Spoiler
Barry looked out the cold soulless glass of the flower shop window. Raining again. Water falling out of the sky like tears from an orphaned civilization.

"The ten million sheep keep grazing," Barry murmured to himself. "The slime and filth of New York all runs downhill." Benson & Associates didn't take off like Barry dreamed it would. The only clients he got were scumbag addicts who couldn't find their antenna if it was hanging in front of them.

The flower shop door opened, and a mosquito flew in. "Fucking bloodsuckers," Barry grumbled, lighting a cigarette. The flame burned like the embers of a forgotten time. Barry could hardly remember the last time he was happy; working for Honex and spending time with Adam and Vanessa. Adam was now the CEO of Honesco and fired half the bees to save money, and Vanessa hadn't been the same since she started drinking.

"Mr Benson, hello?" The mosquito buzzed around Barry. "Oh god, I need your help. PLEASE!"

Barry took another drag from his cigarette and rolled his eyes. "What is it, asshole?" He couldn't stand insect filth who wasted his time.

Time. Like the gears of a machine, turning in place, never reaching a conclusion. Barry's time never ended. He had prayed for death before, but no one answered. He used to believe in God, but now God was like a moat flowing through a windmill.

The mosquito put its face in its hands. "Oh god...the kids...Elaine...they're all dead."

"Let me guess, you got drunk and flew into a rage." The rain kept coming.

"What? God no, Barry. It was...it was a car accident. The SUV pulled out in front of me, I had no time to react!"

Barry scoffed. "Yeah right, punk. Let me guess, you were on the pipe again?"

"No Barry, I'm off that stuff! You've gotta believe m-"

Suddenly a giant bare foot came down in front of Barry, crushing the mosquito. Barry looked up and saw Vanessa smirk at him, sangria in her hand. Then she silently walked away.

"What a bitch," Barry thought.

The rest of the day dragged on. Barry smoked cigarette after cigarette. He would've tried to steal some of Vanessa's liquor, but he knew the consequences if he was caught. He looked out the window again. The city was slowing down, falling asleep. Robots following their programming. Spurred on only by the promise of a divine reward.

"Cowards," Barry thought. He took another puff and coughed. The smoke had completely filled his tiny bee body. He doubled over in pain and fell to the hardwood floor. The floor was as cold as a drinking a glass of water after you chew a piece of mint gum. Except way colder than that.

Barry felt enormous pain as he started to succumb to tobacco poisoning. He saw Vanessa stumble into the room and make eye contact with him. She was holding a bottle of vodka now.

"Vanessa...kill me." Barry pleaded.

Vanessa just laughed at his plight and left the shop.

"Wh...what a bitch..."

Barry couldn't take the pain anymore. He had to end it. He crawled over to the couch and took a deep breath before plunging his stinger into the fabric. The pounding rain coming from the sky started to subside into a light drizzle. As the stinger left his body, Barry sighed in relief. It would all bee over soon.
I'm very amused. Bleak. Punchy. You can string words together ok
it's a parody of the over the top dark fanfics people write

the weird metaphors and similies are inspired from True Detective


 
Elegiac
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ok but it's a really hard hitting drama, don't read unless you're emotionally prepared

Spoiler
Barry looked out the cold soulless glass of the flower shop window. Raining again. Water falling out of the sky like tears from an orphaned civilization.

"The ten million sheep keep grazing," Barry murmured to himself. "The slime and filth of New York all runs downhill." Benson & Associates didn't take off like Barry dreamed it would. The only clients he got were scumbag addicts who couldn't find their antenna if it was hanging in front of them.

The flower shop door opened, and a mosquito flew in. "Fucking bloodsuckers," Barry grumbled, lighting a cigarette. The flame burned like the embers of a forgotten time. Barry could hardly remember the last time he was happy; working for Honex and spending time with Adam and Vanessa. Adam was now the CEO of Honesco and fired half the bees to save money, and Vanessa hadn't been the same since she started drinking.

"Mr Benson, hello?" The mosquito buzzed around Barry. "Oh god, I need your help. PLEASE!"

Barry took another drag from his cigarette and rolled his eyes. "What is it, asshole?" He couldn't stand insect filth who wasted his time.

Time. Like the gears of a machine, turning in place, never reaching a conclusion. Barry's time never ended. He had prayed for death before, but no one answered. He used to believe in God, but now God was like a moat flowing through a windmill.

The mosquito put its face in its hands. "Oh god...the kids...Elaine...they're all dead."

"Let me guess, you got drunk and flew into a rage." The rain kept coming.

"What? God no, Barry. It was...it was a car accident. The SUV pulled out in front of me, I had no time to react!"

Barry scoffed. "Yeah right, punk. Let me guess, you were on the pipe again?"

"No Barry, I'm off that stuff! You've gotta believe m-"

Suddenly a giant bare foot came down in front of Barry, crushing the mosquito. Barry looked up and saw Vanessa smirk at him, sangria in her hand. Then she silently walked away.

"What a bitch," Barry thought.

The rest of the day dragged on. Barry smoked cigarette after cigarette. He would've tried to steal some of Vanessa's liquor, but he knew the consequences if he was caught. He looked out the window again. The city was slowing down, falling asleep. Robots following their programming. Spurred on only by the promise of a divine reward.

"Cowards," Barry thought. He took another puff and coughed. The smoke had completely filled his tiny bee body. He doubled over in pain and fell to the hardwood floor. The floor was as cold as a drinking a glass of water after you chew a piece of mint gum. Except way colder than that.

Barry felt enormous pain as he started to succumb to tobacco poisoning. He saw Vanessa stumble into the room and make eye contact with him. She was holding a bottle of vodka now.

"Vanessa...kill me." Barry pleaded.

Vanessa just laughed at his plight and left the shop.

"Wh...what a bitch..."

Barry couldn't take the pain anymore. He had to end it. He crawled over to the couch and took a deep breath before plunging his stinger into the fabric. The pounding rain coming from the sky started to subside into a light drizzle. As the stinger left his body, Barry sighed in relief. It would all bee over soon.
I'm very amused. Bleak. Punchy. You can string words together ok
it's a parody of the over the top dark fanfics people write

the weird metaphors and similies are inspired from True Detective
You could do something in writing; journalism or whatevs. Not a bad career if you can hold onto your integrity.


V | Mythic Inconceivable!
 
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Just message me.
Vien 'Quitonm#1598 is my discord
Erotica between two students back in high school.


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the one true God is Doctor Doom and we should all be worshiping him.
Tried my hand at some eldritch Lovecraft shit back when I was 14. It was odd.


 
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I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.


Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?


 
Verbatim
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I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?
Because I don't like weird shit.


Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?
Because I don't like weird shit.
Define weird.


 
Verbatim
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I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?
Because I don't like weird shit.
Define weird.
Anything that I wouldn't just write naturally. If I wrote something like erotica, that would be very against type. I have no interest in writing erotica, so even if I were to try, I wouldn't have any fun doing it.


 
ಠ_ಠ
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We knew the world would not be the same.
A few people laughed, a few people cried, most people were silent.
I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita.
Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty
and to impress him takes on his multi-armed form and says,
"Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.."
I suppose we all thought that one way or another.
I've never really been one to write stuff. The weirdest would probably be some of my shitposts. Other than that, I guess some of the short stories I wrote in high school? I did write sort of bizarre one about a witchdoctor once.


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Arren | Ascended Posting Riot
 
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“I’ve become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - if I’m able to, then perhaps I’ll be closer to portraying a true expression of love.”
I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?
Because I don't like weird shit.
Define weird.
Anything that I wouldn't just write naturally. If I wrote something like erotica, that would be very against type. I have no interest in writing erotica, so even if I were to try, I wouldn't have any fun doing it.
I don't necessarily mean erotica by weird. I'm curious how you've written and not, upon revision of some earlier writing, discovered peculiarities and considered it strange.


 
Verbatim
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I don't really write weird shit. Maybe I should try it out, but it doesn't seem very fun.
Why wouldn't it be fun?
Because I don't like weird shit.
Define weird.
Anything that I wouldn't just write naturally. If I wrote something like erotica, that would be very against type. I have no interest in writing erotica, so even if I were to try, I wouldn't have any fun doing it.
I don't necessarily mean erotica by weird. I'm curious how you've written and not, upon revision of some earlier writing, discovered peculiarities and considered it strange.
I love experimenting, but "weird" is when the experiment goes south.

I've been taking the bus to college over the past couple weeks, and I've thought about writing stories about the people I've overheard conversing with each other about random shit. The story would have this gimmick of only taking place on this one bus, but cycling through a wide array of different personalities and situations.

THAT sounds fun, but I've been biding my time, gathering more subjects to draw inspiration from. The fear is that the story would just end up being too boring because of its much-ado-about-nothing plot scheme, but on the other hand, the concept lends itself to a great deal of introspective writing, which is my specialty.


 
Verbatim
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There's another story I have in mind about a guy who writes shitty romance novels for a living. He made it as a famous author, and is somewhat of a household name. His books always end up being best-sellers, despite the relatively low-effort he puts into his writing. He doesn't even read--he just writes.

This results in him receiving allegations of plagiarism after publishing his latest book. Some small-time writer claims that the famous author stole his original yet unnoticed work that he wrote almost a decade ago. Prepared to brush off the allegations, because he knows they're patently untrue, the author is later dismayed to discover that his book is a word for word carbon copy of this small-time writer's work.

It wasn't plagiarism--it was just an astronomical coincidence. Nonetheless, he faces the life-ruining consequences--not only will he have to suffer through the inevitable lawsuit--his reputation in the eyes of his once-adoring public has now come permanently under fire, over an extremely unfortunate accident.
Last Edit: September 23, 2016, 12:44:42 AM by Verbatim


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(っಠ‿ಠ)っ
ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ
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(っ ͡ ° ͜ ʖ ͡ ° )っ
(っ ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)っ
(っ´°ω°`)っ
I wrote a few chapters of a story about a garden gnome apocalypse.

I think the main characters were a dwarf, a demon, and a cross-dressing scotsman.


 
 
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Probably a flood myth for Pastafarianism.
(Flood as in water, not Halo)


 
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This is not the greatest sig in the world, no. This is just a tribute.
Back on B.net in TFS there was a shitty erotica contest or something and I wrote one featuring Norberg and Sapphire.
should remember it