/wfg/ Writefag General - "I've lost count of what number thread we're on" Edition

A place to share stories, write, provide criticism and have criticism provided. If it's even tangentially Jow Forums, it's welcome. Also, feel free to discuss other Jow Forums-tier literature and books. Mostly just people bumping though.

>It's been unscientifically proven that a lack of (you)s for writers can lead depression, alcoholism, story abandonment, and an hero.

>But it's so easy to make a difference in a writer's life. Just one (you) a day can make the difference between a happy writer and a writer on permanent hiatus.

>Please, post now. Help make a writer's day.

Sticky:
pastebin.com/BpLSpmMN

stuff binned by Archivefag (including some stuff not found in the Sticky): pastebin.com/u/TryAgainBragg

FEATURED WRITERS:

AR-7Anon
Beatus Heals: user helps a curious rifle [CUTE][HEAL][FEELS][WAFFENGEIST]
pastebin.com/XVAAQQjv

uh... nobody actually reads this anyways, right? Hopefully nobody notices.

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Other urls found in this thread:

discord.gg/Zhr8TdV
pastebin.com/BZeS1ELj
pastebin.com/VZu3073t
pastebin.com/BdvpbhjB
pastebin.com/edit/yYV729zh
youtu.be/bGgKdDCJx5o
twitter.com/SFWRedditGifs

I noticed, JD. I noticed.

Aw shit. I forgot to include the discord invite.
discord.gg/Zhr8TdV

>WFG preservation server, lurkers and writers alike are welcome. No feds allowed though.

>Don't worry, we don't actually write in the server, we just like to talk about writing.
>Talk with your favorite writefag about how they're "totally working on it" but haven't posted in 3 threads!

>Listen to a bunch of autists shouting in ARMA 3
"TECHNICAL REAR! SWING THE .50 REAR!"
*DSHK fire*
[Token German begins to sing Erika in the back of the Humvee]

"What the fuck is that?"
*MGSV deployment theme*

Just announce yourself as a lurker as a courtesy for the moderators.

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*three months of threads

*over a year and a half of threads

Why does it not surprise me that crash would say that.

That's nothing, the last post before that was
"Lol, ok egalifag.
...Now onto breeding Elephants"

Yep. That's par for the course. He's the lovable sort of autistic.

A bit late for the event, but I finally finished it:

*smack!*
>"Where is she?"

>The words echoed across the ruined command post, interrupted only by the distant sound of gunfire and a quiet sobbing.
>Among the husks of destroyed T-dolls, dummies and few other machines, a pair of silhouettes towered over a crying girl.
>The few escorts keeping watch at the entry points remained quiet and unmoving, blind to the entire scene.
>They couldn't care less about the wellbeing of the prisoner. After all, some of the destroyed machines were their dummies and even companions.
>Of the two interrogators, one was remaing silent and seemingly absent. Clearly she preferred to the other one handle the actual questioning.
>Her companion had nothing against that. She picked up her gun and fondled with it for a while, before casually appraching the sitting girl.
>"Listen, we can be here all night..."
>She said, leaning over her captive, while the muzzle of her weapon wandered across the prisoner's body, hovering above the knees and other non vital body parts.
>"Or you can tell us where are you hiding her and we'll be on our merry way."
>She added with a singing tone, lifting the gun away and producing a cheerful smile.
>The victim before her stopped sobbing and raised her head.
>The tears were still roling down her cheeks and dripping down onto her torn clothing, which barely covered her damaged frame.
>"But, I really don't kno-"

*BLAM!*

>The sound of shot was instantly drowned out by the scream of pain.
>The prisoner grabbed her knee and fell on the side, curling up on the ground in a puddle of synthetic oil.
>While she spasmed on the floor, the ther two dolls just stared down on her and exchanged a few wordless notes.
>"P-p-please... s-sto-op..."
>She sobbed out.
>Her torturer smirked and turned around.
>"You really are pathetic, aren't you?"
>She took a few steps back and swapped places with her partner, who now apprached the suffering doll.

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>The other doll knelt next to her and spoke with a calming tone.
>"Shhh... shhh... It's ok now. Look."
>She said, stroking the captive's head and wiping the tear off her cheek.
>"Griffin, Sangvis. We're not really that different. Hell, the two of us are actually more alike than you'd think."
>She flicked the strand of hair off thecrying doll's face.
>"We're both T-Dolls. All we do, is just follow orders. You have your masters and we have ours. But in the end we're all just doing what we believe is right."
>The kneeling girl gently raised the other one's head.
>"Just take a look at your companions; she actually disobeyed order to save her friend, didn't she? You know who I mean."
>She contined as her gaze met the eyes of the wounded girl.
>"You don't have to suffer through this. You can make it all go away and stop, just now. All you have to do, is make a decision. The one that's right.
>A full of compassion smile danced across her face as she kept talking in a quiet, friendly manner.
>"Now, I'm no Agent, but I do have my ways of getting the information I want, you know?"
>She stood up and took two steps back, not once letting her eyes off the captive.
>"Even if that means we have to go through this over and over and over again."
>She reached for her gun, which even though smaller in calber than her sister's weapon, was no less effective.
>"I'll ask you one last time, Ouroboros"
>Said UMP 9, pressing her gun against Sangvis doll's forehead.
>"Where
>is
>Five
>Seven?"

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>more dark gfl

Good by me. And it's comforting to see you aren't dead Katz. We lose writefriends too easily these days.

Requesting recommendations again. Specifically for reading on guerrilla warfare.
Thanks for the recommendations so far.

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Anyone ever write about boredom, anticipation, let down, being stuck in preparation and training forever?

That's basically my goal with the Parsons project.

So what... college?

>It's after midnight they tell me.
Is it ever not after midnight? It seems any and every moment I wake somebody wants to sleep, somebody wants to complain that I play guitar. Someone wants to complain that I'm not quiet as a mouse 24 hours a day. Someone wants to complain that we don't do anything during the days even though they themselves do absolutely fuck all. At least I walk the fucking dog, what's THEIR excuse? Waiting for a package? For what? Some fucking pair of shoes you don't need? Some as seen on TV cleaning supplies?

"Why don't we talk much?"
It's because all you fucking do is drone on about borderlands 2, it's because we share no interests, it's because half of my interests you condemn and the other half you don't partake in. It's because the ones you DO indulge in take no effort, and have stagnated in the last 8 years. It's because when you want to indulge in video games, it's the same shit that nearly drove me to swallow a .45, you remember that one don't you? HMMM? THE ONE YOU MADE ME PLAY FOR TWO FUCKING YEARS?
Why, we could go out hiking, but oh, you can't allow anything to be done at all if it takes place after fucking eight in the morning, because you know, going places doesn't take fucking time.
Why don't we talk too much? There's nothing to talk ABOUT.
Why hasn't the garage been cleaned out? BECAUSE EVERY TIME I TRY TO THROW AWAY THE BOXES OF BULLSHIT YOU HAVEN'T UNPACKED OR TOUCHED OR LOOK AT IN FOURTEEN FUCKING YEARS YOU PITCH A FUCKING FIT AND THREATEN IF I THROW AWAY ONE OF YOUR "PRICELESS" CURIOS YOU HAVEN'T LOOKED AT SINCE 2003!
If we could all kick in the pants the person most responsible for our ills we'd never sit down again. I swear to fucking god.

Fun fact, some of the more autistic authors can be lured into posting by posting the correct GFL characters for them.
Crash: Wa-2000, 416
Engi: Soppo
JD user: IWS-2000
OSTSAN: M16A1.
Michiganon: M1G

Goddamnit he's right. Don't touch my wife IWS-2000.

don't touch garand. she's for huggles and snuggles, not bully and sexual.

>dat filename.
made me kek.

also, bump.

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topkek

what about me?

If I Google your trip and "parsons" is there something out there that's part of this project? Do you have any personal experience with the subject?

I hope everyone is doing well and things are going great for you guys and gals. I haven't been on /wfg/ in a long time, have some of the older wires came back with updates to their stories? Like user and Ruby, BarretSenpai, KvsW, PTRfag with his new story of Judith and Rose, etc? Miss you guys. Maybe one day when I'm not working myself to death I'll get back to re-doing my story. Hope you all have a good day!

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Older writers*

Well then.

And this is good to know. Maybe we should add this to the /wfg/ guides.

Hello friend, whoever you are.
PTR showed up for a little while a few months ago and then disappeared again.
KvsW occasionally complains about how he can't figure out how to soft-reboot his story.
user and Ruby hasn't updated since like, last year I wanna say it was.
Barret posted once, but even the user who always waited for him has given up.
JD came back recently tho, even though he doesn't post much, that's still something.
And Poly's completely MIA. I figure work got too busy, he lost interest, or, heaven forbid, the cartels got him.

Is it just me or does this thread feel a bit happier and more lighthearted than the last thread?

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>happier thread
>very first pasta is a torture scene

on a related note; you know all those waffengeist "healing stories"?
Where user buys a used gun, takes it home and takes good care of it, despite the geist's tragic past?
I'm writing a story of how one ended up in need of healing.

You like brown airplane lolis.

You're a sadist. That's okay though, I think that could be cool.

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Maybe they'll come back soon, I miss everyone. Would like to see them again. Miss everyone writing and posting all the time like in the good old days. I still can hope. Thanks for the update user, have a good day!

You too buddy.

i'm still alive too, thanks for asking. Even if interest seems kinda dead

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My apologies fluffy. You have been rather inactive lately, save for the occasional post. Hope you're doing okay.

I'll post something come start of the next thred, let's see if that gets any interest. Intil then, i'll return to lurking

Cool beans. I'll be waiting.

pastebin.com/BZeS1ELj

Reminds me of something you'd see in a Tarantino film, for some reason. Preferably with some Red Army Choir playing in the background as Alexi reveals his great plan.

Always glad to hear people are doing well!

Alive and kicking.

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Query: will Damaged Goods be finished, or have you moved to other projects?

>will Damaged Goods be finished
I ask myself this question all the time. In my head, I know how the story finishes, but I can't seem to hit the writing groove I did once before. I have a couple posts of new content, but that is all the farther I have gotten.

>or have you moved to other projects?
Nothing else is in the works at the moment.

Thanks for an update. Best of luck to you Construct.

pastebin.com/VZu3073t

Make sure to stand up for our rights as American citizens gentlemen. You have a voice(unless you live in California then at which point get out like I did) and you should use it to communicate against these laws.

>unrelated Urgent Fury picture

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Eloquently put, my dude. I admit, I hadn't even considered the "criminals could use this to disarm their targets" perspective, but it absolutely makes sense in context. I hope you mail/email/whatever that thing.

One slight note, don't share this PB widely. You kinda dox yourself. Don't think it's a huge risk itt, since we're kind of a community to ourselves and don't get a lot of outside traffic, but who knows what fucksticks lurk elsewhere on Jow Forums.

Godspeed, Donny. This is how we resist for now.

Won't be sharing the PB everywhere, but it will be going to state and local newspaper opinion pieces to be viewed by about 40,000 people.

It's not a lot.

It's something. Even if, in the grand scheme of things, it changes nothing, you'll know you tried, and that will be its own reward.

fuck off retard

I'm sorry, you don't talk much about your waifus. All I have to go on is that you want to "liberate" the place where that one bitch is.

>All I have to go on is that you want to "liberate" the place where that one bitch is.
wtf are you talking about?

The airplane loli with the tank under her who's supposed to be kawaii loli Gadaffi or something, I don't know.

once again, wtf are you talking about? Are you referring to this?

1) that's not an 'airplane girl', it's a rule 63 on Mengistu Haile Mariam, a Marxist dictator of Ethiopia
2) In case you missed it the first time I'm going to say it again: a COMMUNIST DICTATOR! Just how much of a degenerate do you think I am?

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Why does every african with a little bit of money get a gold watch? Not knocking it, just pointing out a trend.

I should also add I'll be mailing this to my local congressman and my state senator.

My parents immigrated from Ethiopia because Mengistu was killing people in the streets, but they're anti-gun retards because apparently they miss getting killed in the streets by oppressive socialist governments.

To think I used to despise this song. I suppose it takes on a beauty of its own once you get to hear a section bigger than that little ditty at the beginning, don't you think?

What's your endgame writefags? Seems like a weird hobby, but then I have less creativity than modern gun companies. Any of you write for a living?

To Arms has published a book, I'm not aware that anyone can live off it. Most do it for Venting, I think.

I usually write because I have cool ideas that pop up in my head and want to put them on paper to remember them later so I can daydream about them.

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It's a good excuse to just write about things I wouldn't normally write about, and in turn, it helps me develop my craft as I continue.

Yes I did. You can buy it, but I'd suggest reading it first, and then, if you'd want the physical copy, go buy it as a show of support. I'd prefer stories be shared free, and offer payment as an 'attaboy'.

pastebin.com/BdvpbhjB

bump

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Glad you're still around friend! Hope you will give us more Damaged Goods in the future when you feel like it, it was one of my favorite stories.

moar Damaged Goods pretty please?

bump

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pastebin.com/edit/yYV729zh
We spent most of the day with the rest of our orientation. With the questionable highlight of getting caught in enemy fire behind us, even the most impressive fortifications seemed bland to us. Nilsen led us through what felt like several kilometres the trenches and bunkers up to the command bunker of our neighbouring company, and then, when he realized that it would mean less daily routine for him, relented and showed us the anti-air defenses behind the main lines. The multi-barrelled autocannons and missile launchers were a likely explanation for the lack of visible enemy airpower. Whoever became visible on our radar would fly straight into a storm of steel that would be all but inescapable. Not even the tsarist-bolshevist forces could hope to muster enough men and material to make a significant aerial push through.
The true highlight, however, came in the evening. Upon our return, Nilsen had proposed that we should be shown Friedrichsstadt, and Thaler had agreed. So it came that our squad hitched a ride on a supply truck bound for the rear. Despite our insistent questioning, neither Thaler nor Nielsen answered our questions as to what Friedrichsstadt was suppossed to be besides toothy grins and cryptic replies to the extent of "You'll see."
And see we did. Friedrichsstadt turned out to a soldier's dream, a Reeperbahn behind the front, an amusement mile for grown-ups. As we later found out, former Hauptfeldwebel Christian Friedrich had opened the bar that would become the groundwork for Friedrichsstadt after his military career was ended by the shell that took his legs. Over the years, it had only expanded. Along a dirt road a few hundred metres off the Rollbahn there were brothels, casinos and bars, anything a soldier might need to take his mind off his duty.

The garishly lit streets were full of soldiers, some in uniform, others in various states of nakedness. I couldn't believe it. A Hauptmann and a Leutnant walked past us, looking prim and proper despite the giggling prostitutes on each arm. A drunk lay passed out in between two buildings. Even the military police did not impose order, rather, they joined in. The MPs openly drank as we walked past where they stood at the entrance of a bar. "Keep your men in check, Uffz," The Feldwebel in charge slurred at Thaler. One of his men said something and the whole MP squad shook with laughter as we entered the bar.
The inside was just as rowdy as the street had been. Troops from all branches of the military were busy getting drunk, fighting each other and generally making a mess of things. All this didn't seem to bother the barkeeper and his trusty assistants who were never too busy to crack a joke with a customer or too meek to throw out someone who had gone too far even for this establishment. In the middle of this mess was a jolly men in a wheelchair. His legs ended below the knees, and where ever he rolled, even the most drunk made way.
This was Christian Friedrich, Hauptfeldwebel a.D., founder and absolute ruler of everything the men in the building valued. Angereing him was a surefire way to earn a ban from Friedrichsstadt, and for many of the men stationed on the Kaiserstellung this seemed like a fate worse than death.
I won't go into the details of this first evening at Friedrichsstadt. It should be enough to say that the next day, noone remembered how or when we had gotten back to our bunks, and that our first "real" day was spent with a throbbing headache.
In time, things settled into a comfortable routine. We would spend the days in the bunkers and the trenches. The evenings would be spent reading, writing home, or visiting Friedrichsstadt with one's comrades, a habit that took a heavy toll on the monetary situation of many of us.

The Russians started shelling more regularly again, even if the more experienced members of the company were eager to assure us that it was far from as frequent or intense as it used to be. Thus reassured, we grew accustomed to the sound of explosions going off outside of our bunkers and trenches. It is quite fascinating how quickly a human being can grow accustomed to new conditions.
For a while, we managed to forget our dreams of glory and victory on our comfortable posting. That is, until the routine got broken in the most brutal of ways.

bump

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>Double dubs and trips
>CHECKED
Construct please deliver!

>she's posing while clearly pissed, almost certainly thinking of getting back at you
if that were me taking the picture, I couldn't wait for her to get even

>make webcomic
>build audience and make money either off kickstarter or patreon

I actually do want to work on this project. With luck, I can pitch it to the right people and get it made as a mini series.

bump

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mfw I have enough Enfields to have beach enfield, seductive enfield AND one playing lolee Enfield. And maybe one left over. This Wa-2000 recipe sucks, anyone got a better one?

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have you tried a SVD recipe?

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youtu.be/bGgKdDCJx5o
I have not.

what about Springfield recipe?

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ein bümp

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You know, a grunt's/civilian's weapon can say many things about a story's setting.
What does the average infantryman wield into combat? What sort of weapons could the average civilian afford?

might do this with a twist including a reference to einsteins quote about the weapons of ww4

Short story idea. Weapons PoV of passing years.
>born 1917
>built for war
>sent overseas to fight in great war
>issued to new soldier
>doesn't look very tough
>thatswhatimfor.jpg
>save his life numerous times
>keeps me running smooth
>fought through Great War together
>never wanna leave his side
>end of war, he has same idea
>brings me home
>enjoy quiet retirement
>still long for war

>1941
>called to serve again
>friend's son drafted
>tearfully begs me to keep son safe
>eager to go, hope his kid keeps up
>go to war
>son tries his best
>really he did
>best isn't always good enough
>come back late 1942 with a flag
>couldn't keep my promise
>can't even look friend in the eye
>friend doesn't have the heart to throw me away
>leaves me in a drawer instead

>not sure when
>lost count after 30 years
>hear a scream
>someone opens drawer
>looks like friend, almost
>just a kid though
>kid frantically digs around
>whispering "Please be here, please be here."
>find me, pulls me out of drawer
>kids shouldnt play with guns
>but there's a stranger in doorway
>guess there's always an exception
>stranger scowls and tries to attack
>hear child whisper a plea
>my frame is old, my parts are worn, but I was built to fight
>child got three shots before I seized up
>only needed 2

>been over fifty years
>friend passed few days before incident
>finally mentioned me to them
>2nd son claims friend forgave me on his deathbed
>offers to bury me with friend
>ask to stay with them instead
>new lease on life as a range toy
>still occasional hunger for battle

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I've had a few springfields.
Don't use'em all that much but I save them for dummy linking.

Springfield? That's a funny way to spell *3 cores*

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>M4A1 wants to do it but her heart's not in it
Yeah, no, 3 cores is not the correct way to spell mommy.

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how dare you.

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Any stories about the big igloo? New here. Checked sticky, can’t find any big luau stories.

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>user who's always waited for him
IM STILL WAITING
BARRETT, ONE SHOT PANNI UPDATE, REEEEEEEEEEEEE

Well, we're definitely not using our knowledge and income from writefaggotry to fund development of irl waffengeists, I can tell you that.

Aw shit, here come the ruskkies.

That was more wholesome than I thought it was gonna be. Thank heavens.

bump

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>The bright civilian life ahead of them can only blind us downcast and dark souled commanders.
Lee is mommy to lolee enfield. Non negotiable.

Sounds like a good story, you should put pen to paper and write us one user, I'd love to read it!

I had an even fucking stupider idea for Don's backstory that goes into Jackie being a fucking thot.

>Divorce papers start to show up
>Jackie threatens to accuse Don of raping her while he was undercover
>Don threatens to spill the Hartford PD's dirty laundry, his illegal dealings, and his orders to do so
>"Let's walk into the light together, Jackie. I'm sure our kid will love to be an orphan again."
>The two divorce uneasily with Don moving to Phoenix and starting TTWP's story

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That might be good. Then again, going more in depth with what you've already got would work too. I understand what you're trying to do, and it'd be one way to make Don's anger look understandable. But like I said, you can go deeper into his angst over what you've already got and I at least would understand his perspective one hundred percent.

Also, I would like to confess that when I was younger I jumped on the "muh f-35 bad" bandwagon, and I'm warming up to it's looks. I still think we shoulda made more f-22s, but the f-35 isn't an ugly plane.

The biggest thing was admitting he still had feelings for her even after he'd gunned her down.

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Makes it more tragic. Poor Don.

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