A writer should always have on hand a place to jot down ideas for plots, characters, settings, images, and other random literary elements as they come to mind. This thread is a place to jot down similar sorts of notions, with the difference that these are the ideas you doubt you’ll ever use yourself.
JJjetplane-girlw/cats made the suggestion:
You know it would be awesome to have a thread where we just come up with ideas for other people (if we don’t have time, or get inspiration if we’re stuck). I know that I get random ideas in my head all the time, and being able to tell everyone about them means they at least get a chance. Plus, if anyone is stuck on a topic for their story, they can read up for inspiration.
Oh cool! I also get ideas that I can’t write down, and it drvies me CRAZY!!!
Nimly: First post?
oh wow!!! there are these little threads that i didn’t know even existed on MB! and this one can come in handy too. i love writing stories! this is the perfect place to write a story
THANK YOU GAPAS FOR MAKING THIS THREAD!!! i am eternally gratefull.
I get lots of little ideas/scenes, but I’ll probably just hoard them away
I always think I’m going to use them, but there’s doubtless been some I’ve lost in time.
Speaking of writing other people’s story ideas, in one of the Sandman books by Neil Gaiman–I don’t recall which, sorry–a man whose head is overflowing with ideas as a punishment lists several of them, and I’d like to try writing them all. Maybe others want to as well? I’ll go find them later and type them up.
I read that one! But I don’t own it. Please do type them up.
I always get really good writing ideas and then forget them soon after and it drives me crazy! I’m glad that we finally have a thread for these ideas. Thanks GAPAs!!
As for my idea, I thought of writing a book where their are multiple characters and each character writes a journal entry for each chapter. I think it would be really cool to see each character’s point of view but it could become confusing for the reader…
Every Soul a Star works kind of like that. I read it, and it wasn’t too confusing. You have to keep the characters linked, though, otherwise it’ll make no sense.
Ten years from now, all of us are part time GAPAs. One of us (Preferably me) learns about how Google had collapsed seven years before. On and off the blog, we work to stop a terrorist organization from bringing down the entire Internet.
oh, nice!
You should visit the MuseBlog FanFiction. It’s very similar to that.
You mean like that article in Popular Science about protecting the undersea cables that carry computer signals?
I’m writing a story about the great MuseBlog Blight of ’09, and I need to know exactly what date the ‘blog was taken offline. Once I do, I’ll post the beginnings on “Books In Progress”.
Ok, I’ve got lots of unused ideas~that I can never get the storyline ticking and just put them in my “Unfinished and Nearly Forgotten” folders. I’ll just put one for now tho.
Aand, I can’t decide which one to do. I’ll come back after I decide,k?
I have a lot of little bits of dialog that I never got to work into stories.
A random plot idea:
Ever visit historical museums and see old mirrors hanging on the wall? Imagine you see the face of a person in the past appear next to your face. They look frightened. You press a hand to the mirror and they do the same. A flash of light passes from their hand to yours, the person mouths “Help me!”, and vanishes, and you find a glowing marble in your hand…
2.1- Got ’em. Good thing I didn’t return the huge Absolute Sandman Volume 1, eh?
They are as follows (and to restate, these are words of a character of Neil Gaiman’s, I did not come up with them, though I do plan on writing a short story or more for each):
“…I could write a whole story set at a party. Possibly something could have happened to the world outside–a Holocaust of some kind. These people are partying against the darkness.”
“The fraternity of critics. In reality a dark brethren, linked by profane rights and blood vows. To destroy an author they sacrifice a child and perform a critical mass…”
“A city in which the streets are paved with time”
“A train full of silent women, plowing forever through the twilight”
(not sure if these next 4 are together or not)
“Heads made of light”
“A small piece of cardboard”
“A plum, sweet and tart and cold”
“A were-goldfish that turns into a wolf at full moon”
“Two old women taking a weasel on holiday”
(same for these two)
“Gryphon’s shouldn’t marry”
“Vampires don’t dance”
“A man who inherits a library card to the library in Alexandria”
“A rose bush, a nightingale, and a black rubber dog collar”
“A man who fell in love with a paper doll”
“The sun setting over the Parthenon”
“Shark’s teeth soup”
“An old man in Sunderland who owned the universe, and who kept it in a jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under his stairs…”
“A sestina about silence, with the key words dark, ragged, never, screaming, fire, kiss”
“A biography of Keats, from Lamia’s viewpoint”
(again)
“Magical and alchemical traditions seen as a cargo cult;”
“Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastes Paracelsus and Raymond Lulli were the same man”
There. Don’t think I missed any, but I might have. I am looking forward to trying to write a sestina so I might start with that.
WOW! Cool! I’ll try….
“a city in which the streets are paved with time”
Whoa. What is the name of this story? I must read it.
Thank you Neil Gaiman. I feel inspired now. I don’t want to specifically write about these but the library of Alexandria one is tempting.
The first I don’t think I could pull off.
The second’s a bit too gruesome.
The third, “A city in which the streets are paved with time,” might be a fun urban fantasy.
The fourth, silent women in a train, has some potential as a vignette, but without conversation I don’t think I could write it.
The fifth set (possibly together, possibly not). Hm. Heads made of light? A concept I could work with. Plum and cardboard aren’t really specific enough to give me ideas. The were-goldfish could be a comedy.
The sixth… oh, that gives me a wonderful idea. The two old women are assassins or mercenaries of some sort. The weasel is their boss, a wicked prince put under a faerie’s curse that he wants lifted by any means necessary. And they’re riding the train in #4 to the city in #5… OK, I’m writing this.
Oh, just remembered this one:
At my Intermediate school, we didn’t have a lot of stage productions, so the janitors would store stuff on the stage, because the curtains were always closed anyway. One time, I was backstage for some reason, and right in the center of the stage, there was that backrest thing people lay on when lifting weights. I was feeling slightly afraid because the lights were off, so the equipment struck me as resembling a torture device and I got a flash of somebody being tortured behind closed curtains in a theater, only for the curtains to suddenly be pulled back and them to be calmly lying there, alone, on the backrest.
I like writing stories that take place in imaginary worlds, they’re much more fun. So if anyone is looking for story ideas, google “fantasy maps” or something, and if your mind works as oddly as mine, you’ll think of something.
Can we post stuff here, or should we go to BiP?
I say post here, as BiP is a little crowded.
You’re right, the word count on BiP is closing in on 50,000. A new thread awaits.
This is strictly for brief descriptions of ideas, not for actual writing. The point is for someone to be able to look through here when en needs a plot or some other inspiration.
Okay, random ideas for people to use:
-Two twins, a girl and a boy, climb a pine tree to find…
-A notebook full of riddles that lead to…
-Three people who can transform into animals go and…
-Something to do with a camera (can’tremebercan’tremeber…)
-Someone finds a strange website online…
—-
4- I like that idea… maybe we could have a thread to do that on. Would that work out???
Ooh, can we mix things together? P*ease say yes~ I like the one about the city with streets paved with time, the “two twins, a girl and a boy, climb a pine tree to find……..” and the idea about a camera, as a amateur photographer myself. (yeah, for example, I took my gravatar pic.)
I’m sure you can mix them together. We could possibly add “Someone finds a strange website online” to cromwell’s idea in post 4.
Of course. This thread is to give you ideas. What you do with them is up to you.
((Heh-heh. I read a book on how to hold a writer’s notebook… I have one, well about 3, because I always get dazzled by a new blank book, and buy it, knowing that i haven’t even gotten half way through the last one…))
Sorry, no ideas right now…
Oh man there is something about a lot of blank paper and freshly sharpened pencils that is absolutely irresistible.
I always thought there was something wrong with me…
I know. I have 2 notebooks with regular sized paper, and 5 or 6 ones that are about half that size. I use certain ones for certain things.
14.1- I know. Book and stationary stores are heaven for me. I bought two notebooks and 20 pencils yesterday. (I allow myself to spend a third of my allowance each week and I hadn’t spent any last week. other thirds go to long term saving- for a laptop- and saving for an iphone.) I still wasn’t satisfied so I got some wonderful fountain pens, ink, and erasers. For me, the most wondrful moment is when you watch the pen moving across the top of a paper, channeling a fountain of words in your neatest handwriting onto the paper. It’s odd that I like that, because I know that eventually I would need to type it up,because it’s hard to read, so the paper is really a wasted step. But then, life could be considered a wasted stwp sinceone dies later. *is confused* I’m out of ideas. I had one yesterday about a classroom but it sort of flopped.
A classroom where everything you learn becomes untrue.
Cool idea! I like it…
Ideas I’ve thought of and haven’t managed to do anything with:
•The sky is purple
•A boy on a windswept plain with no memory of how he got there
I probably can’t contribute too much, although I may open my horde of snippets, since I probably won’t use them. Might though, you never know. I’ll keep my favorites, and post the others, probably.
I had an idea for a book, script, whatever really.
There’s a boy and a girl muse blogger who meet on the blog, and want to go to a Kokonvention. However, things come up and then at every one, one of them can’t go. Their lives pass, and eventually they become GAPAs, but still don’t meet until old age, and realized they have become some of the most important parts of their lives.
Mushy, I know.
My dad had an idea that the world is going to end in 30 days. Will the world officials tell the public so they can spend their last days in chaos? Or not, so justice will ensue?
What if they’re wrong . . . ?
YAY!!!!!!!!!! (my 1st idea for a thread)
STDP
Oooh! How about the true story of Eden?
Doing a fairytale’s “true story” is always a great topic.
On a moonlit night, a strange object crashes into the waters near the Great Barrier Reef. Was it a meteor, or… something else?
I like that…
Once I drew a map of an island, then I realized that with the Coriolis Effect winds would blow from the west making the desert in the northeast not caused by the mountains just beyond. I could have placed it in the trade-wind latitudes, but then civilization might not have developed there, so I just decided that in this world the Earth spins in the opposite direction. And then I had the first sentence of my story, which was “There is a place where the sun rises in the west.” Which I like.
Idea- In a certain village, in a certain land, there is a custom, and it is this- once a child has lived sixteen years, they must journey up the mountain of the gods and say prayers at each shrine. Then they may be welcomed into the village as an adult. But this story is unique, in that the girl who made the journey never returned, but rather stayed on the mountain with the gods, who welcomed her as one of their own.
——–
I kinda like it, but I’m not sure how to spin it to make it a bit more unique. First person perspective could be interesting- tell it from the girl’s point of view. I’m thinking that the girl could be a child of one of the gods but not know it until she climbs the mountain.
I could probably turn my dreams into some crazy satire; here’s a motive from last dream:
A girl is running alongside the pier which extends itself towards the ocean indefinitely. Fog makes it impossible to see far forwards or back. Her body is running, keeping up a good speed, but her mind is else where. Suddenly she concentrates on the here and now, noticing that she isn’t out of breath or tired. She considers the situation…”Where the hell is the water?”
——————————————————————————————-
I’m going to build on that a bit. I really dreamt that except, that when wondered why the water wasn’t there, I suddenly realized I was somewhere else… I’m sorry if it´s too long.
The tidbits I have no use for, don’t like too much, or are otherwise unsuitable. For anyone’s use.
I soared, up in to the sky, with reckless abandon. The sky was mine, and all in it. Flying was the my favorite thing to do. I flew all the time, when I could. Until It happened. After that, I didn’t fly ever again. I couldn’t.
The Earth was a marble, in a giant marble run.
If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be dead. But then, everyone else would be.
It all happened two years ago. Since then, nothing has happened. Nothing at all. Literally.
Someday I’ll return. Someday I’ll settle down. Someday I’ll be good. But then, someday I’ll die. And if I die first, I’m not complaining.
It’s not a complete idea, but “the woven beyond” strikes me as an interesting place to start from.
Ha ha ha…I like your reference from the random thread, as I’m guessing that’s where you got it from.
Yes, that was where. Perhaps it’s where the fleet of space squid originated.
That’s what I would guess…
She blasted me backwards, into the wall.
“Stupid crazy evil uber lady.” I muttered.
24- I know! I was wondering if it would be alright to write about it… Actually, it’s not much of a concern, given the extreme unlikelihood anything I write is going to be published.
Here’s an idea for a story that I’m not a skilled enough author to write:
In the distant future, there is a religion of people who are atheists who wish that there was a god. So, using a new science of “theotechnology” they create a god. There are many resulting moral and philosophical dilemmas. For example, religious peole say “that can’t be the real god…,” people wonder if a god made by humans can be “pure”, and so on.
I love the ideas in 8. Maybe I’ll try to write one.
I convinced AM to come during lunch! Go me!
That is so clever! I wish I would have thought of that, but I’m definitely(like, not even close) not good enough either…
Hmmm…
27-Does that mean you want someone else to write on that topic? It sounds incredibly interesting.
How about roswell in the point of view of the alien? OO, me likey!
29- I drew a comic that was sort of a reversal of the situation, with human astronauts crash-landing on a planet and being taken captive by aliens, who covered up their existance.
let’s see now? Ideas I’m not going to use? I’ve got MILLIONS
1. girl who has big imagination is on a car trip cross country with her family and starts having reoccuring daydreams about a guy (or girl w/e) and meets him/her at a camp and causes a reversal of her life
2. OK, this is strange but one time I read how for a while in Hawaii pagan religions were outlawed or something so I came up with this whole plotline I never got around to writing about a man who led a pagan religious group running from the authorities and is always one step ahead of them because his girlfriend works in the governor’s house
3. A group of people who change shape (only to one specific shape) who live on an island all by themselves and suddenly, they’re getting killed, one by one, with arrows and nobody knows who’s killing them
4. I’m not skilled enough, don’t know enough, and don;t want to do the reasearch enough to write this: Girl goes to William and Mary college and walks around colonial williamsburg in early hours to clear her mind and one morning as she’s walking along a dark path she’s in colonial williamsburg in colonial times (no big flash or bang, just walks into it accidentally and takes a while to figure it out) and gets a job as a girl at the tavern or whatever and tries to get back and does or realizes she likes it in colonial times
I had this idea last night. I’ll try to type it up here.
It is the year 3003. The world is covered with high-tech cities, some built underwater. There are a few places that have been left alone
There are _ (insert number) children, who, one night, can’t fall asleep. Suddenly, they get this vision. They are standing on an abandoned hilltop (that does not actually exist) that is surrounded by cities of their time. There are a man and a women with them, that seem almost… celestial. The children do not see each other in the vision. Above, a comet flies toward Earth, but as it gets closer, they see it is not a comet. It is a bomb. A gigantic bomb. When it hits the Earth, though, it does not knock it out of place. There is not mushroom cloud or raging fire either. Instead, all the cities, technology, etc. crumbles away, and the world becomes what it was before it was tainted by humans. Completely primitive, except the humans are still left among animals just created by the bomb. The woman turns to the man and says, “It is done.” (I just had to add that. It’s kind of creepy, right?) The children must stop this from happening, but try to make the forests and recreate the animals from their vision. They also must find out who that man and woman are, and why they were there.
Like it?
I think it should be reality. Like, one day, that happens, and everyone must survive. There could be people from the past, who have to try and stop it… I’d try it, but it wouldn’t make a good musical.
Speaking of musicals, should I post the one I’m working on at BiP?
“It is done,” repeated Tharys, her voice rising. “All of humanity, all their accomplishments, memories of the past and dreams of the future. Gone. Is that what you wanted, Quatlin? Is that what your infinite wisdom has led you to do?” Silvery tears brimmed in Tharys’ deep blue eyes. She was a beauty, with perfectly chiseled features and robes that shimmered every color imaginable. But now her expression was pure despair, enough to make a mortal dissolve into weeping madness. If there had been any mortals left.
Quatlin turned his calm grey gaze on the goddess of the arts. “It had to be done,” he whispered, with a trace of guilt. “If we’d left them to their own devices, they would have cruelly destroyed each other and everything around them. This was the humane thing to do.”
Tears flowed down Tharys’ ivory cheeks. “But the humans were also capable of great things. They were ingenious at times – you of all Celestials should know that. Just ask Loravo or Serasha. Ask Lyetan. Ask me.”
Quatlin tightened his grip on his Celestial eye, which had the form of a crystal gazing ball. “The Celestial council voted to destroy them,” he said. “It is for the good of all. We have done it, and there is nothing you can do.”
Mira jerked awake, trembling. The image of cities falling filled her mind with terror, but the forest rising up made the world look so much better. What if that was to happen? What if all that humankind had made fell away into dust? She pushed that thought away, and rose to prepare for the new day. If she was a prophet, well… prophets weren’t exactly excepted in this time.
I’m going to transfer this to Books in Progress. Anyone can add to it.
This sort of popped into my head the first time I heard of Dr. Who and the characters called “Time Lords”:
In the future, time travel becomes accessible, but only for the very rich. Under false identities, these “Chronorati” establish second homes among well-to-do regions in the past. When inviting friends out to their place on Long Island for a party gets old, they invite them to their villa in Ancient Rome or the like.
As even future celebrities living in the past still act like celebrities, a special police division has been established to keep the chronorati from accidentally revealing the existence of time travel to the people in the past, and generally cleaning up after their messes.
But now, someone is murdering the chronorati, and a middle-class cop who’s always despised them gets put on the case.
The PPD (Paradox Prevention Department), known to its members as CUARK (Cleaning Up After Rich Kids). I like it.
That is, as my friend Alexa says, Smartical! *Begins to doubt plot-making skills after reading such an awesome idea.*
Wow, KaiYves! That is a really great idea! Second that smartical, nolagirl17!
HPBs are the best!
35- I haven’t seen you before, LBK. (That’s your new nickname.) You new?
33- That is a good idea.
34,35,36- Wow, you really think so? It just popped into my head when I read the phrase “Time Lords”, and I interpreted it sort of literally, as an aristocracy possessing time travel.
37- It’s definitely a cool idea. So, they go back in time and live there and screw things up? Do you think it should be funny or serious (what with the murder and all)
I think it would be mainly serious, but comedic in parts. The rich people go back in time and live there and WOULD screw things up if not for the actions of the police.
So… what day was the blog taken offline because of the hackers?
33) My dad was telling me about these stories by Isaac Asimov where people will go back in time and change big things that happen in the future by changing tiny things in the past; They move an object from one shelf to another so it isn’t where the person that comes looking for it thinks it is and they’re late for a meeting and don’t hear a point someone makes that gives them an idea… It sounded really cool.
39) From beginning to mid April; I don’t remember the exact dates, but MB was down when Studge (the April 1st blog) came up and my birthday/Grant O.’s birthday (April 17) were celebrated on MA…It was down for ages.
Thanks. GAPAs? Dates?
I had a couple of ideas while in the car driving to Boston.
1. A kid is captured by some kind of magical creatures or evil wizards, that sort of thing. The story describes ens tortures, etc. Then at the end, you find out that en was on a road trip, ens “tormentors” were ens siblings, “captors” ens parents, etc., and en has an extremely overactive imagination.
2. Someone makes up stories about people they see, and later they watch the stories play out for real.
Sounds like somebody had a fun trip to the science museum.
Hey, I was bored… and I have an altogether too active imagination.
I had this idea, that again I can’t pull off because I have no idea how to research it, but what if a girl tried out for the voice part of an animated character and got in and got a lead voice part and became friends with the other lead voice etc. and telling the story of the production of that kind of thing?
There are two groups fighting for possession of a device, the Hexstar that breaks the laws of nature and can do almost anything. One group seeks it to help the world, the other, to dominate it.
An agent of the good group is being chased by operatives of the bad group and hides the Hexstar in a random spot to save it from the bad group. A group of kids find it and randomly push the buttons on it, creating all sorts of crazy scenarios, and these mishaps draw the attention of the bad group…
Some of the things the Hexstar does:
Zaps one boy so he wakes up the next morning as an adult.
Turns a girl’s dog invisible.
Shrinks the characters down while in the music room. (Quick, run across the piano keys!)
Teleports everybody to… well, a lot of places.
Another idea!
In the future, scientists have made contact with aliens. The aliens will come to Earth, but if they prove hostile, the scientists will set off something that will make every alarm in the world ring. (The Big Alarm) Everyone should go to a safe place, like a basement, and should stay their. The alarm rings at the beginning, and from then on, the main characters, 5 kids, write the book in their e-mails to each other. At first, they would be scared of the aliens, but when they begin to correspond with 3 of them, they find some astonishing secrets. The aliens are not hostile, and really, it’s the scientists who are up to something. They, and a group of aliens, will replenish the earth to full splendor, and then, take over the universe.
Sounds cool!
The only idea I have is one I’m writing for.
I got this idea while Rayman Raving Raibbids TV Party on the Wii:
aliens/ odd creatures take over TV.
Sorry, it’s Rabbids not Raibbids. :blush:
What if you wrote a story about meeting your own characters? A little bit like Inkheart, but you could call it Inkthings. (Kind of kidding).
I tried to do that with my Screnzy last year. It FAILED.
Aaah. Sorry.
Choklit?
The Extinktion Of “C”:
It began simply enough, towards the end of the 20th Century. For marketing purposes or perceived closeness to “native pronunciation”, people began replacing “C”s with “K”s or “S”s in various words. Magik. Inka. Go-Karts.
But now, the government has outlawed the letter “C”, deeming it useless. Those who refuse to substitute “K” or “S” are subject to imprisonment and worse. Adults are even forbidden to tell their children that there ever WAS a letter “C”.
Despite the persecution, a band of rebels has arisen, saving literature using The Forbidden Letter and fighting for its reinstatement in the alphabet.
… Buh… Wha?
Seriously, I like the idea of C becoming obsolete, but why would anyone fight over a letter? þ has been gone for years, and I don’t see anybody complaining.
But we’ve been RAISED with C. Also, if someone writes that story, can you put Enceladus as the President? ‘Cause that’s what I want.
Don’t you mean Enseladus?
47 &c.- I think the difference between C and þ is that in the story, C is outlawed suddenly, whereas þ (I believe) just sort of became obsolete (but don’t quote me on that). Plus, you can still use þ, if you so desire, it just won’t make any sense.
I think I’ll start using þ. They use it in Iceland.
Or:
I þink I’ll start using þ. þey use it in Iceland.
þat sounds like fun.
Yes, it does. I will use þ as well. Perhaps we should have a þ þread.
PoPo/ Commentary. We use choklit instead of chocolate. Even we are replacing c’s with k’s.
Yes, “C” is outlawed suddenly and the premise was sort of intended as being for a comedy rather than a straight adventure.
Here’s an idea- remember that old “living history” thread we had? People from various times in history were all talking to each other on one website, even if they lived before the creation of the Internet.
A young person discovers a website like that using a borrowed computer, only instead of being just people role-playing, it turns out to be real. At first, they are suspicious, but when someone from a later date correctly predicts things that happen in their time, en realizes that the site is real.
In the character’s own time, the person they borrowed the computer from starts acting suspicious and watching en very closely. When posters from various times start reporting similar strange experiences, it becomes clear that someone sinister has an interest in the windows in time the website takes advantage of.
Cool! I’d like to, but I already have a story going. Here’s the plot:
There are 3 kids, MB age-ish. One of them has magical power over smoke, and they can tell the future using it, and also hide. The other 2 don’t have any magical powers. They have to fight an evil darkness that will destroy all light in the world. They represent smoke, flame, and ash, the three basic things that make up a fire.
I got this idea randomly last night:
A girl, Rose, has this supernatural ability to cause things, namely plants, to grow at her own will. Somehow, the government finds about her talent and whisks her off to a top-secret boarding school for other children with supernatural abilities. Once there, she meets a psychic and a hypnotic whom she befriends, and together they learn that the people running the institute are actually slowly draining everyone’s abilities to use for themselves so that they will be the most powerful people in the world. So Rose, Dream (the psychic), and Jay (the hypnotic) have to figure out how to alert all of the children of this dire situation while devising a plan for their escape.
Sorry to have to tell you this, but that sounds a lot like The Girl Who Could Fly. An extremely good book, by the way.
(100th post, counting replies)
Okay, so I read that book, which was good, and, really, so far my rough draft sounds nothing like it.
sorry for the Po Po
we should have a dream thread where we post dreams we want to share.
There already is one: https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=1612
Really? Pooper doopers. I hate when that happens. Oh well. I’ll continue writing my story, because no one but me is going to even read it. I guess I’ll have to read that book now…
Don’t worry about it. I remember my 11th-grade English teacher railing at Peter Benchley for stealing the plot of Jaws from Henrik Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People. (Though I think what made her mad wasn’t the “theft” itself but the lack of acknowledgment. Of course, he may have done so unconsciously.) Anyway, same basic plot resulted in very different works.
I wouldn’t worry. The first two Eragon books follow the Star Wars plot so closely it’s not even funny, but everyone loves them anyway.
No, not everyone loves them. A lot of people I know that have read them hate the books intensely because they are basically Star Wars + LOTR. Nice avatar, btw.
That’s true. But they’re very popular, even with the similarities.
Thanks. I saw it on a couple bumper stickers, and decided to use it for a while.
I’m trying fanfiction again, this time going with a script. It’s like a survival game show with a bunch of crossovers, from:
Furuba: Tohru, Kyo, Yuki, Momiji
Death Note: Light, L, Matt, Mello, Near
Harry Potter: Harry, Ron, Hermione
All on different teams. (haha, Mello and Near will be pit against each other a lot.) I need more characters. Help???
A plot that’s been in my head for a while:
A man’s reaction to his grown-up younger sister being chosen as Earth’s first ambassador to an alien race.
revival PLEASE!
Yes, revival required.
Ideas for stories I had with AM:
Randomly, ten people, not knowing each other, are born with a single mind, like the Borg in Star Trek.
It is discovered that some people do not actually have a consciousness, and the resulting situation.
An exclusive club holds an annual gala in a museum. But everything is not as it seems. All the partygoers are ghosts, and one is plotting a betrayal…
So, I got this idea for a story, and I want to know if it has already been used:
A girl gets into a car accident wih her mother and father. Sadly, her parents die, and she lives, but she suffers severe amnesia. In other words, she can’t remember a single thing from her past life. One day, a woman shows up at the group home she is living in, claiming she is the girl’s aunt. The girl has to go with her, because the woman has all the right papers/records. Once she is living with the woman, she starts “relearning” about her own life before the accident, and discovers some shocking things.
So, what do you think? Too sappy? Too morbid?
It’s an interesting plot, but a bit like that one TV show–Samantha Who?
Parallel universe, small town outside of big city. Steampunk?
Once every fifty years, there is a huge windstorm that nearly destroys the town. It traps the residents inside. After the winds, the town is rebuilt quickly and the townsfolk always find something very useful.
When this story takes place, the winds do not come.
The townsfolk are puzzled. They were waiting for the winds. Where are the winds?
Five years afterward, a 15 year old boy (male lead) is heading out for supplies when he sees a girl his age (female lead) on the side of the road. He takes her back (with the supplies, he did get the supplies), and learns her name, Anacae. The winds ended up getting lost, and, weakened from wandering, found her. The winds struck a deal with her: if they could stay within her for her entire life, they would guide her to her true love.
Anacae then thanks the boy for his hospitality, and starts on her way. The boy ends up going with her. They travel from city to city, being tracked by bounty hunters who are looking for the winds. Anacae has a core of magic deep within her heart, and the winds amplify it and teach her to use it. The boy comes across a magical katana.
At the end, there is a huge epic battle with three sides: the bounty hunters, Anacae and the boy, and the dark side of the winds (the good side are resting in Anacae). When nearly all hope is lost, Anacae lets out a burst of pure magic that destroys the bounty hunters and evil winds. The burst drains her of all magic forever. But it fatally injures the boy, and when he is dying, she realized the wind gods had lead her to him, but she was too blind to see it. He dies in her arms.
The winds are let out, and continue on their way, after bidding goodbye to Anacae.
It turns out that humans with no magic that previously had a supremely magical being inside them can never die. So she is left, wandering and weeping, with no true home, forever.
The end!
That’s actually really depressing.
Also, being the extremely paranoid person I am, I’m curious to know where you got that name. ‘Cause my character on the Mary Sue RPG is named that.
I copied you. I’m such a plagirist.
I just like the name; it’s so awesome.
Okay. I just wanted to know.
Thanks! I don’t even remember how I came up with it anymore…
I don’t mind if you use it, I just wanted to know whether you copied me or not. ‘Cause it’d be a really interesting coincidence if we both came up with that name.
I finally have a really good idea for a story, that I think I can write well. Well, it’s actually a really creepy prologue, but I think it’ll evolve. I’ll be posting soon on BiP.
I have kept journals several times before in my life, but I have an idea for a slightly different one that I wanted feedback on.
There would be two parts to the journal. The first would be my entries in the present about doing astronomy-related things and learning about plans to travel to other worlds, the second would be entries from an alter ego living on a Mars colony in the future showing how (or if) the concepts affect her life.
62- That would be really interesting. It might be even more interesting two have two journals kept exactly fifty years apart, and sort of weave them together, alternating, the girl now, the girl (I assume girls in both cases.) then. But it might also be too complicated for the reader. And it’s your book.
I would intertwine them, with the future and present alternating.
Oh, okay. I missed that.
“Trillia was a small country, but at least the population was always measured in Trillians.”
Trillian! *runs around like a mad, addicted, HG2G freak* *is a mad, addicted, HG2G freak*
I wasn’t thinking of that at all, actually…
I was.
I’m writing a story about these five people who died and got new ‘ghost’ bodies. One of the five is sort of crazy and tries to “get rid of” the others so he can “come back to life.” I was wondering if you think I should continue this or not.
It sounds like it could be a very cool idea. So they’re in other people’s bodies, or they’re ghosts with ectoplasmic bodies?
Sounds like she meant ectoplasmic, but I’m not sure.
Thanks, and they are ghosts who have been given human bodies to “get another chance.”
A race of androids called “Dancers” who are nearly human.
So that darn Killers song finally makes sense. (“Are we human, or are we dancers?”)
Shut up and go work on your NaNo!!! I must see how you develop that plot….
…Harsh…
…oh. XD
Did not see that!
Another idea:
“Chasing Saros (Number)*”
*The eclipses in a Saros cycle occur 18 years apart, and in different parts of the world, but always at around the same time of day.
A series of short stories following the people present for each eclipse over decades or centuries, with the connecting thread being either (realistic) generations of a family or (fantastic) some immortal person.
Great idea!
KaiYves, your idea reminds me of something that happened to me a few years ago. In the course of reading through old files at the museum house where I work, I found a newspaper account of the 1898 birthday party for one of the residents. Minerva Mendenhall was in her late 80s by then, and she reminisced about watching the meteor shower of 1833 with her dad. By coincidence, when I read this, I had just recently watched the Leonids myself. That was such a great moment of connection..
Things like that are why I love to study history. I got the idea from a letter to Sky and Telescope magazine from someone who had watched the 2004 Venus transit from a certain city in Iran and found “German Transit Expedition 1874” written on a wall. At first I thought of doing it with transits of Venus, but then you skip between stories being very close together and very far apart, (1874, then 1882, then 2004, then 2012, then 2117, etc.) unlike the eclipse cycle, which is regular.
GAPAs—— Sorry if I’m being a pest, but I couldn’t think of anywhere better to ask this. I’m writing a story, and I’m modeling it after MB.
Would you mind if I stuck you guys in the story, if I just… changed the names a bit or something?
We’re always honored and happy to be part of MBers’ stories.
Thanks! That takes off a ton of pressure. Now me English Language Arts teacher has no CHOICE but to pass me!!! BWAhahahahahahaha!
(((Um… THESE AREN’T THE DROIDS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR)))
SFTDP: Does anybody know if HPBs are copyrighted by anyone? I probably should know.
A famous detective dies, leaving his enormous fortune to “whoever is clever enough to find it”. Hidden in his house is a clue, leading to another clue, and so on. Clues are hidden all over the city, and the last one is the password to a bank account containing the fortune. A poor girl, who needs the money so her family won’t starve, competes with several others to find the fortune first.
71- I would read that.
A Universal Ticket is something like a cross between the “psychic paper” from Doctor Who and the Master Librarian cards from The Magic Tree House.
A Universal Ticket is the size of a business card. The front reads “Universal Ticket, Admit One”, the symbol of those who created it, and, in fine print, the rules about what it can do.
If used with good intent, either for completion of the mission (see below), or otherwise for the greater benefit, a Universal Ticket will be seen as whatever pass would be necessary to allow you entrance into anywhere you may need to go.
Agents and allies of those who created the Tickets are the only people who will recognize the ticket for what it is, and will offer you aid and assistance in the completion of your mission.
The back of the Ticket will bear a rhyming riddle explaining why you have been sent to the time and place you are in and what you must do there. With every mission, the riddle will change.
To begin your mission, you must hold the Ticket in your dominant hand with your thumb over the symbol and say “I accept my mission, take me there.” Once the mission is completed, the symbol will change color. To return home, repeat the process, but instead say “I wish to return to my home time and place.”
I usually have a novel seed bundled up in my head. I pretty much just think them up, then summarize them on paper or word so I can remember them in the future. Here’s one I came up with last year. I wrote a couple of pages of it but then lost interest. Still, I think the idea’s pretty neat.
Photosynthesis/Snow Moon
A two part story told from four perspectives.
Jane : a science teacher who has just moved to an Oregonian town near Ashland.
Ishani: Jane’s best friend from New York, where they went to school together.
Mitchell: One of Jane’s students, a daydreamer obsessed with the color green.
Indigo/Inigo: Another newcomer to the town, from the Olympic Peninsula. A shy girl who doesn’t mind that much when the D in her name mysteriously dissapears.
The main story, Photosynthesis, is about Mitchell, Jane, and Inigo becoming friends, Mitchell explaining his green fixation, and he and Jane finding the missing letter. Snow Moon is a biproduct of Photosynthesis, with Ishani writing a number of scientific vignets to her childhood friend, the moon.
Wow. I never realized just how strange that story is.
AlterNET, “improved” from Post 51, and kind of an elaboration on my “1969 Muser” persona from the Living History thread:
My name is Diana and I have a computer in my room. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like the ones you see in pictures or at Universities at all. It’s secret, and it’s really small. As in, only about a foot wide and two inches thick when it’s folded up. I know, you’re saying that’s impossible, a computer could never be that small.
But my computer is from the future. And it’s a secret. I found out our old neighbor was a time traveler from a hundred years in the future. He was on a mission he couldn’t tell me much about, but before he went back to 2069 to give his report, he gave me the computer as a way to keep gathering information. He said I can’t show it to anyone, because it’s 40 years ahead of its time.
And I can see why. It can do incredible things. Not teleporting people or letting me see through walls or other Star Trek stuff like that, but it turns out I’m not the only person to get one of these computers from a time traveler. As part of an mass anthropological study, they’ve given them to people all over the world in all of these different eras of history. And I can talk to anyone in my era and share information. Even if they’re in China!
It’s called the AlterNET. And it’s amazing.
There is a blog much like MuseBlog where intelligent people gather to talk, share problems and advice, and write stories together. Our protagonist, let’s say she’s a girl, joins the blog. Like MB, all the names are pseudonyms and the bloggers never meet or see each other (in this story). We watch the protagonist grow as a person and see how she affects the lives of other bloggers. She becomes good friends with many of them and develops a slight crush on one. Like all good friends, the bloggers laugh together, share advice about their different problems, and occasionally squabble. They talk about life and religion and what they want to do in life. The whole book is made to look like a blog, with the narrative being in posts. In her last and final post, the protagonist tells her new friends that she is dying of leukemia (or some other incurable disease), that she was glad that they were her friends and that she loves them.
im giving up on the one up top. i plan to write 78.1.1.1.1.1
sorry went in the wrong place this should be at the bottom of the page.
WHAM! The soccer ball slammed into the side of her head. The sound seemed to echo endlessly as she fell toward the grass …
Whiteness. Peace.
Eventually, she noticed that she was viewing things from higher up than usual. Either she was taller, or she was floating. Strange.
She watched as the class of kids, clad in PE uniforms, gathered in a cluster, pushing and shoving to see something. She saw the teacher pulling out a phone, dialling frantically. The people’s voices were no more than murmurs in the distance.
She rose a little higher, and the thing on the ground was a person.
The person was her.
With a violent jerk, she slammed back into her body.
((This is just something I was thinking about.))
I tossed and turned in my bed, mangling the already twisted Pikachu sheets. “Should I get Chikorita…? Meganium has good defense…” I imagined taking down any opponent with Meganium, it all but impervious to damage. “But what about…Totodile? Feraligatr is good for offense…” Feraligatr would take out any other Pokemon before it could even touch it. The sun slowly climbed in the sky, casting a beam onto my Pokemon books. “Oh, but I’m forgetting Cyndaquil… Typhlosion is well balanced…” I thought of how I could outlast any opponent with Typhlosion’s defenses and awesome attacks.
Suddenly, a shrill chirping interrupted my imaginary battle “Pidgey! Pidgey! Pidgey!” I slammed my clock and stretched. Blinking in the harsh sunlight, I looked at the time. “Seven…thirty! Oh, no, I overslept!” I scrambled around my room, threw on some clothes, and ran downstairs. “Hello, Katya. I have your bag and Trainer card here. Oh, and your Pokegear returned from the shop.” Mom handed me my things as I stuffed a piece of toast in my mouth and guzzled down a glass of juice. “Bye Mom! Love you! I’ll let you know which pokemon I get!” I ran out to Professor Elm’s lab right next door.
“I’m here…I’m here…Can I choose a Pokemon now?” I gasped. Prof. Elm looked up from his chaotic disaster of a desk. “Oh, right. Well, you’re kind of late, see, and, uh-” I gasped, on the verge of tears. “They’re all gone!?”
“Well, not all of them. I have one more. Now where did I put that pokeball…?” He patted his pockets and looked around him. I spotted something red and white poking out from some papers one his desk. “Would…would that be it, sir?” I sniffled. He turned and looked to where I was pointing. “Ah, yes. Good eye.” He pushed the pokeball’s button, and a red light shot out. It formed a pokemon, with brown pointy ears, a bushy tail and neck, and sleek brown body. It hid behind Prof. Elm’s legs as he spoke. “Sorry. I caught her yesterday, and she’s still a bit shy. Here.” He handed me a computer-looking device. “That is a Pokedex. It automatically records any pokemon you see or capture. Try it out on this little girl here.” The pokemon poked its head out from behind Prof. Elms legs, and I pointed the pokedex at it.
“Eevee.” a voice announced. “The Evolution pokemon. A rare Pokemon that adapts to harsh environments by taking on different evolutionary forms. About 14.3 pounds, and approximately 1 foot tall. Eevee is the Normal type. Its moves are Tackle, Helping Hand, and Tail Whip.” Prof. Elm handed me the pokeball, and said, “Before the pokeball was invented, people would walk with their pokemon. I am interested in seeing if this contributes to happiness or friendship. Are you willing to walk with this pokemon, outside of its pokeball?” “Yes,” I breathed. I was still a bit disappointed, but the Eevee looked pretty cute. It followed me out, staying a little bit behind me, as I walked back to my house.
Mom looked up from dinner. Her Mr. Mime also looked up from sweeping the floor. “Hi,” I said. “I got a pokemon.” “Oh, honey, that’s great! What kind? Did you get the fire type? Or grass type? Maybe water?” Eevee peeked out from my legs, where she’d been hiding. “Oh, what a cute little pokemon!” my mom squeed, and she bent down to get a closer look. “Mime! Mime!” chattered the Mr. Mime. “Eve! Eevee!” replied the Eevee, and they soon were having what seemed to be a conversation. Mom straightened up. “So? Which is it? Fire, grass, or water?”
“Um, Eevee is a Normal type, mom. I got up kinda late…But listen!” I told her about what the pokedex had said, how it was the “Evolution pokemon”. She smiled. “Well, I’m sure Eevee and you will have lots of adventures together. Goodbye! And don’t forget to call!” “Right!” I said. “Bye! Come on, Eevee.” Eevee ran to me, and we headed out the door.
SFTDP ((I have more that I need to get out before I get out!!!!!!))
Soon, we came to some wild grass. I had never been allowed to come near it, but now that I had Eevee, I could go in it. I hadn’t gone that far, when a wild Pidgey appeared. “Okay, Eevee, Tail Whip!” Eevee wagged its tail, and the Pidgey relaxed a bit. But then, it shook its head and lunged at Eevee, and she took a hit. She staggered to her feet, and aimed for the Pidgey. “Okay, Eevee! Tackle!” Eevee tackled the Pidgey, and it staggered. But suddenly, a young boy raced through on a bike. Something yellow was in the bike’s basket. The Pidgey ran away, and I yelled, “Hey! Watch where you’re driving, bonehead!” The boy kept on going, yelling “Sorry!” over his shoulder. I pouted. “Come on, Eevee. Let’s go.”
We battled our way to the next town, Eevee going up a few levels. “Oh, hello!” said an old man. “I was told to show you around. Follow me!” The old man ran fast. “Oops,” he said “I’m sorry. I have Running Shoes on. I’ll go as slow as I can.” He jogged over to a red building. “This is a Pokemon Center. If you come here, they’ll heal your pokemon for free.” He jogged over to a blue building. “This is a Pokemart. You can buy all sorts of supplies here, like pokeballs and potions.” He showed me a couple of other places. “Here,” he said, after the tour. “You can have my Running Shoes. I have an extra pair at my home.” He left. Eevee looked a bit spaced out, so I went to the Pokemon Center.
As I entered the Pokemon Center, I looked around. The inside was orange, with a yellow-ish pokeball in the center of the floor. A couple of people were inside, including a familiar-looking boy wringing his hands. “Hello. Welcome to the Pokemon Center.” A voice brought me back from my imagination “My name is Nurse Joy. We can heal your pokemon to full health. Would you like to heal your pokemon?”
“Yes, please.” I put Eevee up onto the counter, and Nurse Joy took her to a back room. I sat down on a bench to wait. Suddenly, I realized who the boy was. “Hey!” I said, standing up. “You’re that boy from before! The one who crashed through my battle!” The boy turned around. He had a really worried look on his face, and I softened a bit. “I’m sorry…it’s just…my Pikachu…he.” His face crumpled. “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t have any extra pokeballs anyways.” I said, relaxed. He smiled a bit and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ash. Today’s my first day as a trainer.”
“I’m Katya. I also just started today.”
“Cool.” Just then, another Nurse Joy came out, holding a yellow pokemon in her arms. Ash leapt up and ran to her. “He’ll be fine,” she said.
((I’ll post more tomorrow, my dad says I need to get off the computer.))
nice. you should keep writing these. im going to start looking foward to them.
Yup. I will. I’m going to move them to the BiP thread, oce I’m doe posting the rest of my first story,
what does oce mean. and why are you talking about a female deer?
And could i maybe use a little of it? not all of it just the fact that it’s Pokemon?
MY IDEA
A girl ( actually my best friend) named Sophia has a power to go into tv shows and gets trapped in the Pokemon show.
When I woke up, I smelled pankakes. It was just time to watch my favorite show! I grabbed a plate of pancaked and ran in. The TV was turned on somehow. “I wish I could be in pokemon.” I thought. A suddenly,everthing looked like powder. Soon it was darkness. What was happening?
(sfttp)
By the way forget that segment.
Sure.
BiP=Books in Progress thread
doe=major fail in typing “done”
oce=major fail in me typing “once”
I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed Pokemon… your story makes me remember.
GAPAs, we need a pokemon rpg
Unfortunately, the GAPAs won’t make RPGs specifically based off of a commercial brand. For example, no Harry Potter RPGs are there.
Ok just a pokemon thread then.
I’ve got a story idea trying to develop in my head…… it’s about this world full of magic, and there’s this one girl who appears to have no magic, but she loves music and when she is making music strange things start happening. She turns out to be a rare type of magic user and has to go on a quest to find the only other magic user with her type of magic so she can learn, because the other music/magic user disappeared a long time ago.
i have an idea about a girl who has been alive forever and she is reborn every 11 years untill she discovers she’s a godess and she has a twin who she needs to find is six months because this is her last rebirth.
((Okay, here’s an idea, or rather, a sentence/idea!))
The boy stood up, and spontaneously combusted. “Epic fail,” I muttered, kicking the ashes.
((Brain fart.
I have no idea where that came from.))
LBK – I love that. Did she make the boy? Did he randomly appear? Did he make her? Did she accidentally kill him, like with a bow and arrow or something? Is it this world? Sorry. I just find that rather intriguing.
I always get a few sentences for something, write them down, and forget about them. I never get ideas, then think of a first sentence.
Like this:
“I am.”
That was the first thought.
“Am I?”
That was the second thought.
And so they screwed it in, and so it was.
(I have no idea what this is. Just one of those things that enter my head and refuse to leave. Until I figure out what they’re doing there.)
Also, I always give people names based on some theme. Like, shades of blue, moons/dwarf planets, or rocks and minerals.
I’m actually doing a story about Mewthree (look her up), and the “I am” thing is the first line. Here’s an exert from it:
“Back off, human” said Mewtwo. “Or I’ll–” “Or you’ll what?!” Ceres screamed, tears running down her grimy face, leaving trails. “Or you’ll turn me to stone? Like you did to Ash so many years ago? You’ll only prove my point! That you are nothing but a selfish, conceited pokemon!” Ceres sobbed and dropped to her knees. “Mewthree,” she said, picking up her hand, “no matter what happens, you’ll always be my friend.”
Nice! I like it.
I…have absolutely no idea. Just another random thought, I guess…
The lights swirled around her, lifting her up and carrying her away. And just like that, she was out of my life forever. A tear silently slipped down my cheek, falling on the soft grass as I headed back down the hill where we’d first met. “Get ahold of yourself,” I said. “You were never meant to be.”
Hm. I like that. I might steal the general idea… Or maybe not…
It’d be especially cool if the ‘you were never meant to be’ was taken literally. As in, you were never meant to exist.
Hm.
((Another thing from a (different) story I’m writing.))
Dodge.
Duck.
Weave.
Senses going into override, trying to keep us alive.
Swerve.
Dive.
Clear.
Nose twitching, ears swiveling, eyes unseeing.
Wait…
Wait…
“Now!” Jade spun to face the Deadly Nightmare and shot a white-hot stream of fire right into its gaping maw.
A city built out of white stone, high on a cliff. In the streets, Dimetrodons lie in the sun.
((Another excerpt from another story. I wrote this while I was steaming mad at my family, so I rate it PG…))
Foam dripped from the creatures fangs, which half-hidden in the dimly lit room. The creature was bound by its wrists to supposedly unbreakable chains, which were attached to a concrete floor. The only light came from a weak flickering lightbulb. The lightbulb seemed to know what dark secret it shone upon, and did its best to hide it.
Three of the walls were solid, 20-inch steel, but one was 5 layers of bulletproof glass. Outside the room and in front of the glass, two humans observed the creature. They looked almost identical, with the same stupid green bowl haircut and grey space-agey clothes.
One human stared intently at a red line against a white background. If you could look back, you would see the line followed an upward trend. The human gulped and turned to his partner. “It’s getting stronger,” the first human said.
The second human swallowed loudly. “W-We need to inform Master Cyrus.” He picked up his walkie-talkie and spoke a few words into it. “Master Cyrus, you need to come here. Experiment 13M is getting stronger.”
Almost immediately, a blue haired man who could only be Cyrus appeared.He stepped off the teleportation platform, and made his way to the two grunts. Pushing one aside, he peered closely at the red line that was slowly moving upwards.
Cyrus suppressed a grin. “Why, gentlemen,” he said calmly, “there’s nothing to be afraid of! 13M is just a little bit upset. Here, I will show you. Let me in.” One of the grunts reluctantly pressed a button, and the locking mechanism on the door whirred into action.
The double steel doors opened, and Cyrus stepped through. When the doors closed behind him, their clicking sounded oddly ominous. Cyrus turned and waved cheerfully. Then he stepped towards the creature known as 13M.
“Stay…back,” 13M hissed. It spat on the floor, near Cyrus’ black polished shoes. He frowned, moved around the foamy spittle, and took another step closer to 13M. “Come now, dear, won’t you be a good little experiment?” he crooned.
“I said STAY BACK!” screamed 13M. It launched itself as far as the chains would allow, thirsting for Cyrus’ blood. The creature’s face was thrown into the light. Almost at once, the light died, but 13M’s face had been revealed.
It’s face bore vaguely Zangoose-like features, most noticeable being the blue scar that ran through its left eye. However, it had long fur extending back from its head, and wicked fangs, two inches long. The fangs were covered in spit and foam, and snapped angrily in the dark at Cyrus.
Cyrus chuckled when the light came back on unsteadily. “Such a firecraker! And to think you were achieved…the greatest breakthrough in pokemon history…greater than Mewtwo…you were nothing but a lowly Zangoose. Won’t you let me pet you?” He reached out a hand to stroke 13M’s fur.
The creature snapped at Cyrus’ fingers, and everything went black again. In the darkness, the two observing grunts could hear various sounds. The snapping of metal, a man’s scream, and something like gushing water. The sound of a million toothpicks being snapped at once, and then…nothing.
When the light cam back on, it shone steadily for the first time. It shone on the body of a blue haired man, face up with an expression of insanity and horror still on his face. It shone on a cavity in the same man’s chest where a heart would usually be. It shone on broken chains and a cracked concrete floor. And it shone on a trail of blood leading to a four-foot hole in the back wall.
((It gets pretty graphic past here, so if you want to stop reading, that’s okay. Well, are you? No? Okay then, I’ll shut up and you can go ahead.))
Sirens blared and wailed. “Warning,” called a calm voice over and over again. “Evacuate the building.” Grunts ran screaming towards the exits, their legs propelled by sheer terror at what had just been unleashed. Others in the back were not so lucky. Some lay in a permanent sleep in a pool of their own blood. Other lay dying, huge gashes ripped open in their chest and face.
Jeesh. Remind me not to piss you off. (JK… I hope. :))
((Yeah, it’s gory. I have more, but it’s kind of cliched…I’ll wait for more people.
And yeah…you better not piss me off.))
I started writing a Harry Potter fanfic last night, which is strange, because I hate most fanfic. It was about the Marauders, continued from Snape’s worst memory in OotP, but I left out Snape. Which, come to think of it, I should write him in… Oh well. I’ll post it when I’m finished.
A series of disconnected images that sprang into my mind as I listened to E S Posthumus:
(apologies for lack of punctuation)
slim delicate hand drafting a vast complex design of circles and epicycles and wheels
spinning clockwork
something assembled in a shipyard with scudding clouds in the cobalt sky
old man dying in a bed of skins and furs with ravens dancing attendance on him
scruffy orphan with furious determination on his face darting through a maze of alleys cats racing before him to herald his passage
sinister doll-like woman white hair porcelain face robotic hand chased with brass gripping a sword cane
a rotting ship beached in meadows thousands of miles from ocean with laughing girls playing hide and seek between decaying spars
spire of sandstone sprouting from roaring grey waves dark-haired man impressive eyebrows screaming defiance at the sky
horrible maimed bat twelve feet long stalking through crystalline deserts reflecting the stars above blindness is the only salvation
something disappearing into gray distance with swallows pursuing it
mice racing on clotheslines.
I really love the giant desert bat and the orphan with the cats, but I cuold never write well enough for them.
Just a snapshot I need to get out of my head:
Her hands were elegant and smooth. His, about as “dainty” as a bulldozer.
“There’s a realm above the trees, where the lost are finally found.”
“Everywhere is balanced there like a rainbow above you.”
“I am floating away, lost in a silent ballet.”
90-Owl City, yeah!
I’m probably going to use this for NaNo this year, so no one steal it!!!! *hiss*
Basically, the main character is a girl who lives in a 10-story hotel, in a penthouse suite on the top floor with her robotic…pet, Sparks. The catch is her every move is recorded on video cameras, sent to an AI, and analyzed for “suspicious behavior”. In the beginning, she doesn’t know it and thinks life is perfect up on the top floor. But then she figures it out, and is now trying to bust out of the hotel. Problem is, the AI (named “Veronica”) doesn’t want her to leave, because she feeds off the girl essence to maintain the hotel. Without her, the hotel would fall into ruin. So the AI tries its best to keep the girl from the elevator on each floor, setting up traps, walls, annoying guests, everything it can think of. And it gets harder with every floor she goes down.
Of course, there will be romance and I think Sparks has to sacrifice itself on the second floor. Plus, I still need names for the girl and her (boy)friend. I was thinking of calling the book “10 Floors, 10 Doors.” What do you guys think?
91 – That sounds so cool! I would write it myself if it wasn’t yours.
85 – That is awesome as well. I shall have to try and develop that idea … maybe a city outside of normal time, where different time periods collide? Or an alternate world where some dinosaurs evolved into intelligent reptilians and built civilizations?
“She stood in the doorway, wearing a prom dress and holding a large space laser.”
(Dimetrodons technically aren’t dinosaurs, but a lot of people make that mistake.)
It was inspired by the mural “The Age of Reptiles” , and how in the part showing the Dimetrodons, there’s a rather random-looking outcropping of white stone on top of a cliff that I thought looked like the towers of a city when I was younger.
I was picturing it as an abandoned city that would be either, like you suggested, outside of normal time, or somehow sent back into prehistory.
Normally, one shot won’t stop an HPB. And I wouldn’t try to again. But I’d managed to improvise enough tricks to make MacGuyver proud, and though each one on its own would have done no more than slow it down, together they made it possible.
You can’t normally stop an HPB with one shot. But you can stop one that’s simultaneously fighting off the effects of a Komodo dragon bite, a box jellyfish sting, electrocution after biting a high-voltage wire…
He leaned against the wall, tired from dancing, as the club music blared around him. The DJ was still taking requests – at the moment, one of those generic dance songs that started to sound the same after a while. The multicolored lights spun and flashed, making snapshots of the party guests in light and shadow. Girls in cute dresses, guys in those stupid shutter shades. Everyone jumping up and down, shouting over the music, having fun.
He made his way to the snack table to grab a Coke, when a hand grabbed his arm. He turned to face a girl, about his own age. Straightened hair, short sparkly dress. She didn’t look familiar.
“What -” The girl led him into a corner near a window. The walls were already lined with couples making out, so it didn’t look unusual. But instead of kissing him, the girl said “Do you remember how you got here?”
“What?”
Her voice was urgent, panicked. “How long have you been at this party? Where were you before?” At the puzzled look on his face, her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the music. “You don’t remember, do you? What it looks like outside? Who you came here with?” The spinning lights flew over her face. Outside the window it was pitch black.
(Nyeh, some of my old ideas on here are terrible.)
“It’s only because I love you,” said the vampire boy, his slender hands sliding around the girl’s waist. His emerald eyes glittered in his angular white face. His long teeth were just visible when he spoke. “My kind and your kind – we’re not meant to be together. It’s for your own protection that you have to stay away.”
The girl looked up at him protestingly. “But I’m different. You know that. I don’t care what you are, I know we can make this work.”
The vampire took her hands in his. Such small, warm hands. He could almost taste the blood running under her skin. A few more sensitive romantic lines, a quick bite to the throat, and he would feed. “You are … different than most girls. In three hundred years I haven’t met a human like you.”
He moved his head closer to hers. Slowly, slowly. There wasn’t much of a reason, besides tradition, to bite them through the neck. It did stop them screaming.
Crunch. The vampire boy looked down, confused. There was a small wooden dagger sticking out of his chest. His body was also crumbling into ash from that point outward.
“Really? Well, first time for everything.” She kicked what was left of the vampire backward, causing plumes of dust to swirl up around her boots. “San Fransisco Vampire Watch. Look us up. If you weren’t dead and stuff, I mean.”
The ground was coated in a fine gray dust. She picked up the wooden stake and walked out of the alleyway.
okay… i have a story made up! maybe you can help me with it.
ok here it is… i hope you don’t hate my writing skills… here we go:
____________________________________________________________________________
TITLE: need help with that guys. any ideas?
I was trotting along the dusty sidewalk one day looking for at least a small piece of meat. i was very hungry that day, the little piece of cheese was very unsatisfying. it was limburger. “a cat shouldn’t be eating cheese anyway!” little Bon-Bon said. she’s the littlest cat i know. very questionable. if you offer her the littlest morsel of food she’d look at you as if she’d just been given the luxury of a roast turkey. exept when you offered her cheese of course. if someone gave her a big piece of cheese she’d back away from it like it was about to rip her ears off. i looked around. all i could see were feet. human feet, dog feet, baby buggy feet. or wheels. and i also saw… Pincher! that no good for nothing tomcat was sitting on the front porch step of the Daisy Dolly’s Diner. the smallest low-downest oldest place, to a human that is… to me ,Sandy, the DDD was the best place in the whole city for me to go to. it was always my refuge for when i got chased out of somewhere by a broom or a dog. and here my refuge spot. my hiding spot for where the whole world seemed angry with me for something. my sadness place where i have shed many a tear. the place where i went to as a kitten when a stray cat had cut off my tail. the place that i loved so much was completely ruined by… “Pincher!” i shouted “what are you doing on my hiding place?!” Pincher, still eating the meat scrap that he found someplace looked at me “YOUR hide’n place? your HIDE’N place? my cat this ‘ere place is mine now!” he said in his heavy British accent “your hide’n place? ha!”
okay guys from here on out i’m stumped… any ideas people?
This is a good start!
Some questions to think about for ideas:
What do you think would happen between Sandy and Pincher? What do they think of each other? How do they know each other already? What’s the history between them? What do they look like? Where are they from? What do they like? What’s Sandy’s relationship to Bon-Bon? Where do the cats live? Why did a cat cut off her tail? What does the Diner look like? Why is Pincher at the Diner?
ah ha CM. i have the answers. after musing over them for awhile i got a good idea! but i will answer only 1 of them now. your question “what do they look like” well i was thinking to let the readers decide that for themselves! their imaginations need exercise. but in case you have a weak imagination i was thinking Sandy would be black (even though the real sandy is orange) and have a little stub of a tail. Pincher would be scruffy and dirty and flea covered. bon-bon would be yellow-ish with a black nose. and a bow in her ear (even though a stray cat wouldn’t really have fancy-ness) and the diner would be black paint covered. one or two customers every day.
ok chapter 2 here we go! (P.S. the title is “The Wandering Kitten”)
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i stopped. i stared at Pincher with astonishment “What do you mean? ‘Your place’?” i asked. “i always came here whenever i felt sad and i left my mark here” i pointed to a spot on the rail. “impressin’. impressin’ ” Pincher sneered “but i ‘ave a reason for being ‘ere! ah yes i do!” he nodded tword the door. i looked up. there was a sign hanging on the door nob ” y’a see that ‘ere sign?” Pincher asked” “yes” i said. he replied: “y’a know what it says?” “yes” i ansered ” it says “open” “NOT THAT SIGN the other sign” Pincher yowled. i looked up. the sign read:
Mouser Wanted
must be good hunter cat with
killer instincts
if you know the whereabouts of this
cat. please call us at:
(1900) 269-0670
“hmm” i thought Pincher sneered down at me “im gonna get that ‘ere job!” he determined “im gonna get that ‘ere job. and you know what’ll happen to you? you’ll starve! all the mice in this ‘ere place will be GONE!” just then out of nowhere a lady came out of the building. i hid
“AAH!” the lady screamed “what an ugly cat! get off the porch! shoo shoo!” she noticed me suddenly. she came nearer and nearer untill she could almost touch me!
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well ‘ere er… here was the second chapter. i hope y’all like it so far!
please feel free to comment
Wait a minute? I wrote this?! I don’t even remember this. Did somebody hack my account at one point and post this?
And that, my friend, is how you truly know you are no longer a neophyte.
Yup, nothing better than looking back and cringing at all the stupid stuff you posted! …And also getting a little nostalgic.
That’s me pretty much every time I post something.
From something I started writing a while ago:
He ran.
And ran.
And when that was done, he ran some more.
They were chasing him. There was nothing he could do about that… meh.
Too bad, he thought. Because if I had any control of myself whatsoever I could direct my energy into something other than running, because I’m obviously not getting anywhere, which is a shame considering all the energy I’ve put into running…
…I need to run more. I’m hopelessly out of shape…
Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, he wrenched himself around, constructing an imaginary brick wall on the sidewalk in front of him. Yep.
His feet kept moving, but he backed himself against the wall and forced himself to look at his pursuers, but it was a dark night and his eyes wouldn’t open.
Open your eyes! Open- your-stupid-
Aughhhh.
He was lying in a bed now. Of course. Of course. Of course he was dreaming…
It had been a nice dream. Perhaps he could go back to sleep now… he glanced at his alarm clock.
6:15
A chorus of loud beeps began to blast out of the alarm clock’s speakers at sixty times the normal volume, jolting him out of his much-too-comfortable stupor.
Drat… I forgot to turn it down… I’ll wake up everyone! Cakecakecake-
Hastily, he groped for the infernal machine, wishing for all the world that this unfortunate piece of technology would come to an unhappy end with a sledgehammer, or at least a chainsaw. His finger made contact with a button, and the beeping stopped as quickly as it had started.
Hmm. He’d hit the snooze button. Hastily turning the volume down, he wondered if it would really be so bad if he slept in five minutes…
No. Best get up now. It got harder and harder every day, now that he had nothing worth getting up for. No need to prolong it.
((I’m not really sure…))
hahahaha! funny
also did you get the running part from SonicX? i remember an episode where Sonic got a robotic piece stuck in his ear and he couldn’t stop running because the robot piece was taking over his brain.
Glad you like it! I didn’t get the running part from SonicX– honestly, I got it from the way I tend to do an awful lot of running in my dreams.
AN AWFUL LOT OF RUNNING TO DO
In all seriousness, however, I sympathize. Ah, those recurring dreams…
I liked your writing. Very humorous.
“When I was young I was a fool. So wrap me up in dreams and death.”
“I am the patron saint of denial, with an angel face and a taste for the suicidal.”
I think it would be really cool if we started a MUSEblog story all you would have to do is start where the most recent comment left of. Feel free to respond to me to start the story!
“His charisma, poise, and social aptitude were often* compared to dark matter: notable chiefly for their apparent nonexistence when observed by conventional means, but nevertheless possessing a subtle gravity that affected those nearby in ways they might not be aware of.
*Only by drunken astrophysicists; but since he spent much of his time in the company of academics, alcohol, or both, this author feels justified in using the adverb.”
A city where the air has been insidiously toxic for so long that fashionable surgical masks have become status symbols.
Beijing?Heh, something about rhinestone-studded surgical masks makes me laugh… Like if rappers did a PSA about flu prevention…
A corporation hires ghosts to haunt people with advertising slogans, paint their logo on the walls in blood, etc.
Disturbingly plausible.
Even the supernatural has a Brand Identity.
A fantasy setting with sea serpents who are giant versions of leafy sea dragons that live in a Sargasso Sea equivalent full of floating islands of comparatively giant seaweed. (Fortunately, they are mild-mannered filter-feeders like their real world counterparts, kind of like baleen whales.)
A superhero team is famous for capturing their enemies and rehabilitating them to fight on the side of good. The team replaces their members this way for years as the original heroes die or quit, until almost the entire team is former villains at varying stages of grudging Face Heel Turn, held together by their morally upstanding leader who is the last person left from the original team. After she dies, the newer team members want to revert to their villain days since there’s no one to stop them, while the older team members have developed a bit more of a conscience than they’d like.
I like this idea. Like Thunderbolts, but in a superhero universe that isn’t contractually required not to let things change too much to keep up sales.
Not a fully-developed idea, but just a thought inspired by a creepy sub-section about unsolved mysteries on a Popular External Site (not the External Blogging Site)…
I wonder if people who’ve faked their deaths ever search their own names online and find forum threads where folks are discussing their disappearance and speculating on what happened to them and if they’re ever tempted to comment. And what would they say if they did?
Like in Friends?
I haven’t watched “Friends”. Is there a character who faked their own death?
I think the episode Noah’s referring to is one where the college Ross and Chandler went to had an “alumni update” website or something, and to mess with people they post that Ross has died… and no one comments on it or anything. They even throw a fake memorial service, but only one guy shows up, and I think it was only to hit on Chandler.
(I just looked it up. It’s called The One With The Memorial Service, and I was pretty close with my half-remembered summary.)
Yeah. Ross (who works at the the museum of prehistoric history) finds some forum or something there his old college peers are meeting up. He decides to fake his own death and holds an “in memoriam” thing for himself at his sister’s apartment to see if anyone shows up.
“The Man Called ‘Immunity'”
In a Standard Superhero Setting, a mutant is discovered who has an immune system that can develop resistance to any pathogen with which he becomes infected. Being a believer in the philosophy of the local Professor X expy, the mutant volunteers to live in a hospital clean room being infected with deadly (to anyone else) diseases and studied by doctors in the hopes that they will be able to develop cures. Cue ethical and/or legal controversy.
Eventually this arrangement is agreed to, however shockingly. Several years later, as treatments based on the mutant’s antibodies are becoming available, a reporter writes an article (the story) about the mutant, visiting the hospital and talking to him via microphone or videoconference, and learning about his living arrangements and experiences, but also interviewing the doctors and members of the public who 1) believe the arrangement is unethical even with a volunteer, 2) see the mutant as a saint or miracle worker, 3) are human supremacists who refuse to be treated with cures based on mutant biology.
Who is the man code-named “Immunity”, really?
A calendar that combines the form of the Chinese Zodiac (rotating year cycle of animals plus a shorter rotating year cycle of elements) with the Western Zodiacal constellations (either including Ophiuchus or not) and the Aristotelian elements (either including Quintessence or not). The Year of the Fire Ram, the Year of the Air Bull, the Year of the Water Twins, the Year of the Earth Maiden, etc.
I’m not sure what the analogue of Yin vs. Yang years would be, though.
“Three days after the earth was declared obsolete, my dead grandfather paid me a visit.” — opening sentence I may or may not use at some point
Love it! Maybe he wants his grandchild to carry on important memories of the supposedly worthless planet?
A thriller where the McGuffin is an object discovered on the mummified body of a 1920s explorer high on a Himalayan peak. What exactly the McGuffin is– proof of the Yeti’s existence, some sort of secret government documents, a treasure map, a magical item– is up to the writer.
Sci-fi adventure where someone gets a physically and mentally identical clone made of them (same memories, personality, etc.) and both copies survive to have other adventures with their team. Things that could possibly happen:
– Person is kind of irresponsible/has unpopular ideas and the team struggles with them having two votes on every choice now
– Somebody else on the team keeps talking about the newer copy like they’re a disposable fake version, the copy switches places with the original and doesn’t tell anybody for a while to prove they’re no different in personality or abilities
– Original and copy get separated and have different experiences, their personalities start to diverge
Ooooh, I like it!
That would be fun. How about: The two copies annoy each other and are always squabbling. They pick stupid fights and, even though they (naturally) almost always agree, can’t bring themselves to admit it.
Someone gets trapped as a Mary Sue/Gary Stu protagonist in a wish-fulfillment story. At first it seems like the best possible universe to be stuck in, but over time they become frustrated because every skill is too easy to master, and winning people’s love and friendship is meaningless since everyone adores them no matter what. Eventually they are absolutely miserable from having no real challenges or accomplishments in life, and decide to test the boundaries of how much jerk-ish or evil behavior they can get away with before everyone stops worshipping them.
A ghost story about a solo sailor taking part in a long-distance race who experiences creepy events along the same route that another sailor went mad and committed suicide several decades before. Stress, madness, haunting, or some combination?
It could be Literally 2018 Golden Globe Race and Literally Donald Crowhurst or some degree of inspiration/separation for the sake of fiction. It certainly would be creepy, but I don’t think it would HAVE to end badly– if there is a ghost, it could be that haunting a boat that makes a successful circumnavigation is the only way to pass on and at the end the hero sets their soul free by winning.
to be honest i find it really offputting when people use “gone mad/suicide’ as something creepy/weird for a horror story. i don’t really feel like thinking about this enough to defend it much; suffice it to say that as someone who has been suicidal in the past, i think it would be really hard to do this in a compassionate way.
Point taken, and my apologies. I put this here because I thought it was beyond my capabilities as a writer, perhaps it’s beyond anybody’s.
I thought the really creepy parts would be the isolation on the boat and the hero being unsure of what was a stress hallucination and what was real, and those could work just as well without the earlier fatality being a Crowhurst expy.
Maybe just substitute “shipwrecked tragically a few thousand km from home after circling the world” for “mad/suicide”?
Like “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”?
I guess a lot of it would be, although the sailor in this case would just be a ghost with unfinished business and not a living (ish) guy under a supernatural curse for breaking a taboo. Also, I think the Ancient Mariner’s ship sunk in the harbor of his home city, not in the open ocean while headed home.