Let your imagination shine! Share and rate your fellow chums’ creations!
Submitted by Alina on Sat, 10/28/2017 - 08:25
i drew this site's mom and dad :"D
Submitted by Femenazi on Sat, 04/02/2016 - 12:35
Who did is when are the?
Well In the absence of a plot or presence of an idea or an intention,
what is left to navigate the train of thought throughout the day?
Answered a question with a question neither of which have a real message,
baked as fuck decided to write so reckless,
like a hole my pen tore in this paper while I'm puffing on thick smokey vapor.
I'm not back to stay, I'll say hello, then drift away,
like a leave caught up right in the wind,
or a river and the log within,
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Sat, 02/27/2016 - 03:54
Ian had enough of Bill's shit, it was nearly noon and he had been waiting at the bar since 8, admittedly he was drinking beer at Da Chum the whole time but he had hit the limit, Bill needed to get back to work.
Ian knocked loudly on the front door of Bill's apartment. Which was less of an apartment and more of a sketchy basement on the outskirts of New Paris.
"OPEN UP BILL WE GOTTA DO STUFF FOR EDGARD TODAY!" Ian kept knocking, until he heard the sound of locks clicking.
Submitted by GoldenOldBoy on Tue, 01/19/2016 - 18:08
My story was still better than any of y'alls
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Sat, 01/02/2016 - 03:05
Ian was sitting at the bar at Da Chum. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago Bill was under the knife on the table that a group of college students were sitting at, taking shots of tequila. The place was surprisingly lively.
"Does Bill not drink?" Cheryl asked to Ian while she cleaned glasses behind the bar.
"He does but he doesn't like crowds. He'd rather just stay at his apartment. Although after a day like today he probably hit the hay early to sleep off the ghetto surgery." Ian said to Cheryl between sips of whiskey.
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Tue, 12/29/2015 - 23:18
"So, what do you need me for?" Cheryl asked the two hunters.
"Edgard figures that the chandelier killer is a supe that's gone rogue, insane, or whatever the fuck else and we need to find out who they are." Ian said to Cheryl, taking off his jacket and putting it on a nearby chair back.
"That's not really my department." Cheryl replied, crossing her arms.
"There's a... sensitive situation. Edgard has reason to believe that a BN can shed some light on the situation, not only that but he's a foreign national on a visit from Finland." Ian told Cheryl.
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Fri, 12/18/2015 - 11:42
"You know, the whole, waking up in a rage thing doesn't happen often right?" Bill said to the formerly flustered brunette.
"Ian certainly made it sound like it happens often." Belle replied.
"That was a one time thing, and I was only angry this time because you didn't anaesthetize me." Bill said to her, taking a seat at his former operating table.
"So are you gonna order something, or just sit here and wait for your partner to come back?" Belle asked her patient.
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Fri, 12/18/2015 - 04:50
It's a Sunday afternoon.
I'm knocked out from pain, blood loss, and amateur surgery. Ian holds me down, along with someone I don't know.
And oddly, I feel nothing.
It feels more like drowning than anything else. Noise, followed by the screams, shouts, and exclaims from others.
I feel my blood turn to glass.
My muscles become dense, and then... nothing.
Nothing that hasn't happened before, Bill.
So why does it feel so different?
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Thu, 12/17/2015 - 01:45
Belle was gonna do it, this was it.
This was the day where her co-workers were gonna get suplexed onto a table, or bar, or something solid.
She was on her way to her co-worker screaming at a door when the two hunters from earlier burst in from the main door.
"I might have been shot four times and I might need medical attention." The giant one said, glass shattering onto the ground from his bullet holes in his skin.
Ian came in not long afterwards, dragging an FBI agent in through to door.
Submitted by Hitler McStalin on Tue, 12/08/2015 - 19:22
Ian knocked loudly on the door to room #612 and shouted
"New Paris Police, open up."
Ian leaned next to the door frame, well out of the way of the actual door and drew a .45 from the back of his pants, he signalled to Bill to get ready to kick the door in.
No answer, but they hardly waited for anything to answer.
Ian nodded to Bill. Go time.
Bill kicked the door as close to the lock as he could, not like it mattered, he had enough muscle density to just force it open.