Frank Oz's raspy little voice echoes through your mind, compelling you to keep going. Then you remember that he was voicing a little green puppet at the time and telling a young Mark Hamill to levitate something with his mind. You can't take that idea very seriously anymore. Your gaze flits around the room for something to get your hand out of it. If you hadn't insisted on disabling your phone to prevent interruptions you could call the neighbors. But you did, so you can't. You never thought you'd die like this. You never imagined in a million years that you'd die alone in some godforsaken shack in the middle of nowhere with a bomb in your hands and no pants on. Dying pantsless is not at all dignified. Not that you've ever cared before, but staring into the void kind of scares you. This is coming from a guy who's stared down the barrel of a gun and smiled, a guy who's kicked a grenade back at the thrower, a guy who's too damn sexy to die. Whatever, balls to the walls, you're doing it, you're making it happen. No tools? No problem. *click* It was a dud. [] Feel incredibly silly. [] Throw it away, it still might go off soon. [] Put some pants on.
Life's too stressful to watch things that stress you out, man.
[x] negotiate.
Sounds like shit. Watch better shows, bro.
Boy can't dance for shit. Edit: Oh god, he can't sing for shit either.
Spoiler: Responses Relevant trivia: They're called quest threads most places and Jube's You are the little girl and Young Joey threads in the spam zone were the first ones to make it big on the site. Personal Opinion: You made the right choice not putting it here. Putting something like that in this section is a good way to get it ignored. Maybe if this section picks up stuff like that might become more viable but now you did the right thing for your thread. Relevant Trivia: What ever happened the LOBAN? Personal Opinion: Schedule it. Tell yourself that you need to have X amount done by X time and then actually do it. One year I decided I'd update something every Monday. I did, even if it was only 500-600 words. That led to the longest thing I've ever written. Why did it stop? I broke schedule and couldn't make it back. Scheduling is powerful. But to avoid breaking schedule you should keep up that planning you have there. Also, chase two hares and catch neither. Don't run too many projects at once. I just got knocked out of an oct (in the first round no less) this spring break and school's been feeling especially rape-y lately, but I do have some things I've been meaning to work on. Darunter/Iwillfinishthisshitifitkillsmesohelpmegod It's a story that I need to rework a lot. I totally ruined a lot of the execution in the first run, but I feel like the characters and the message are important to me. The older I've gotten, the more Erica has appealed to me and the more I've regretted stopping. So expect mediocre things from me in the coming season. Filthy Casuals I stopped because four of the people the were supposed to be in it left/got banned. I've got the rest of it planned out more or less but since it needs user input it didn't feel right doing it without Makaze, Sfor-chan, Jube and Ghetto. I might at least give it a final page to set it to rest. It's night/morning/afternoon It's my experiment with free form writing and collaboration with voters. I have to be pretty relaxed to really update these so the stress I've been under is pretty much wrecking it. That's all. I'm too out of it to write much more.
Write about a person who gets up in the morning, goes to work, gets lunch, goes back to work, gets off work, gets groceries, goes home, cooks dinner, eats said dinner, watches television and then passes out in bed.
I'm gonna miss Novaghost.
It's so awkward that I still feel like someone is new when I see 2009 by the join date field.
It is time for you to guys to acknowledge What? as a healing type writer.
GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!
With fingernails that shine like justice and a voice that's dark like tinted glass.
who's fast, thorough and sharp as a tack.
Now's not the time for such things as pants, you quickly decide. A lot of your co-workers in the past have wondered why you dislike pants so. You personally have nothing against pants as an article of clothing but as a principle. Wearing pants symbolizes that you are ready for work and social interaction and responsibility. That is just not your style. So you scoff at your pair of cargos draped over the chair and set to work on that mine. This is an older model, obviously. When disarming something like this, you just gotta get the mechanics behind it right. Make sure you set it up such that you've disconnected the trigger input from the explody bits. In a lot of chip based explosives it's a matter of cutting leads and working with circuits. It's out of your expertise and it's kind of lame. No more visceral kick to it, just a dead little electronic. Whoops. That part wasn't supposed to go there. It's cool though, you just need to get your... okay. Problem. You didn't bring any tools because this was vacation. You need the fivendime to get the squiggle out the jammer to connect it back up with the jingle so you can crossways down the river. Except no one here would understand a word of that. You need someone with good English skills. You should... [] Call 911 equivalent. [] Call the neighbors. [] Try to do it by hand.
Red bitch, black skirt. So glad I don't have a brother to fuck.
Once upon a time.
