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ORPG, gedichten en schrijvers < Virtual Popstar

Dus... ik vulde een random plot generator in

SeventhHeaven
Wereldberoemd

SeventhHeaven schreef:
En dit is mijn prachtige verhaal.

Two Energetic Uncles Thinking to the Beat
A Short Story
by Writer UnknownPete Olsson was thinking about Chloe Kowalski again. Chloe was an admirable queen with charming hands and handsome eyes.
Pete walked over to the window and reflected on his urban surroundings. He had always loved beautiful Berlin with its pretty, perfect parks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel worried.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an admirable figure of Chloe Kowalski.
Pete gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a caring, clumsy, wine drinker with curvy hands and pointy eyes. His friends saw him as a stagnant, sweaty saint. Once, he had even helped an embarrassed chicken recover from a flying accident.
But not even a caring person who had once helped an embarrassed chicken recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Chloe had in store today.
The wind blew like smiling cats, making Pete calm. Pete grabbed a silver teapot that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Pete stepped outside and Chloe came closer, he could see the silly glint in her eye.
Chloe gazed with the affection of 6949 adorable light lizards. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want love."
Pete looked back, even more calm and still fingering the silver teapot. "Chloe, let's move in together," he replied.
They looked at each other with lonely feelings, like two glorious, gorgeous giraffes walking at a very smart birthday party, which had indie music playing in the background and two energetic uncles thinking to the beat.
Pete regarded Chloe's charming hands and handsome eyes. "I feel the same way!" revealed Pete with a delighted grin.
Chloe looked afraid, her emotions blushing like a nasty, nice newspaper.
Then Chloe came inside for a nice glass of wine.
THE END

Nu jij: https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/story/
Schrijf je verhaal met de plot generator en daag twee andere ORPG'ers/VP'ers uit!

Varamyr
Princess of Pop

Varamyr schreef:
oke heb 't gedaan!!

John Fowles had always hated picturesque Sleepford with its rabblesnatching, repulsive rivers. It was a place where she felt surprised.
She was a stingy, stupid, whiskey drinker with fragile lips and charming hands. Her friends saw her as a careful, chilly coward. Once, she had even brought a dangerous old man back from the brink of death. That's the sort of woman he was.
John walked over to the window and reflected on her magical surroundings. The rain hammered like rampaging kittens.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Robert Sweet. Robert was an arrogant lover with brunette lips and handsome hands.
John gulped. She was not prepared for Robert.As John stepped outside and Robert came closer, she could see the impossible glint in his eye."I am here because I want love," Robert bellowed, in a witty tone. He slammed his fist against John's chest, with the force of 8923 puppies. "I frigging hate you, John Fowles."
John looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the enchanted gun. "Robert, I just don't need you in my life any more," she replied.They looked at each other with calm feelings, like two cooperative, combative cats shouting at a very cowardly dinner party, which had piano music playing in the background and two splendid uncles walking to the beat.
Suddenly, Robert lunged forward and tried to punch John in the face. Quickly, John grabbed the enchanted gun and brought it down on Robert's skull.
Robert's brunette lips trembled and his handsome hands wobbled. He looked lonely, his body raw like a new, nervous newspaper.Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Robert Sweet was dead.John Fowles went back inside and made herself a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END

ik nomineer en

Varamyr
Princess of Pop

Varamyr schreef:
oh kut, zie nu net dat ik van mijn mannelijke hoofdpersoon een vrouw heb gemaakt

oeps

Anoniem
Wereldberoemd

Paris schreef:
Nicki Minaj looked at the round banana in her hands and felt Angry.She walked over to the window and reflected on her Cold surroundings. She had always hated Stupid Beverly Hills with its poor, purple Pink. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel Angry.Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Paris Hilton. Paris was a mean mean with happy ass and smart hips.Nicki gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a beautiful, rich, wodka drinker with skinny ass and blonde hips. Her friends saw her as a regurgitated, rotten richbitch. Once, she had even helped an upset sliving cross the road.But not even a beautiful person who had once helped an upset sliving cross the road, was prepared for what Paris had in store today. The sun shone like jump dog, making Nicki sad. As Nicki stepped outside and Paris came closer, she could see the encouraging smile on her face."I am here because I want eggs," Paris bellowed, in a populair tone. She slammed her fist against Nicki's chest, with the force of 5871 spaghetti. "I frigging love you, Nicki Minaj."Nicki looked back, even more sad and still fingering the round banana. "Paris, kiss me daddy," she replied.They looked at each other with aggressive feelings, like two testy, tough tinkerbell fly at a very rude LA party, which had rapp music playing in the background and two fat uncles crash to the beat.Suddenly, Paris lunged forward and tried to punch Nicki in the face. Quickly, Nicki grabbed the round banana and brought it down on Paris's skull.Paris's happy ass trembled and her smart hips wobbled. She looked mad, her body raw like a harsh, happy hair remover cream.Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Paris Hilton was dead.Nicki Minaj went back inside and made herself a nice drink of wodka.THE END

Anoniem
Wereldberoemd

Paris schreef:

Paris schreef:
Nicki Minaj looked at the round banana in her hands and felt Angry.She walked over to the window and reflected on her Cold surroundings. She had always hated Stupid Beverly Hills with its poor, purple Pink. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel Angry.Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Paris Hilton. Paris was a mean mean with happy ass and smart hips.Nicki gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a beautiful, rich, wodka drinker with skinny ass and blonde hips. Her friends saw her as a regurgitated, rotten richbitch. Once, she had even helped an upset sliving cross the road.But not even a beautiful person who had once helped an upset sliving cross the road, was prepared for what Paris had in store today. The sun shone like jump dog, making Nicki sad. As Nicki stepped outside and Paris came closer, she could see the encouraging smile on her face."I am here because I want eggs," Paris bellowed, in a populair tone. She slammed her fist against Nicki's chest, with the force of 5871 spaghetti. "I frigging love you, Nicki Minaj."Nicki looked back, even more sad and still fingering the round banana. "Paris, kiss me daddy," she replied.They looked at each other with aggressive feelings, like two testy, tough tinkerbell fly at a very rude LA party, which had rapp music playing in the background and two fat uncles crash to the beat.Suddenly, Paris lunged forward and tried to punch Nicki in the face. Quickly, Nicki grabbed the round banana and brought it down on Paris's skull.Paris's happy ass trembled and her smart hips wobbled. She looked mad, her body raw like a harsh, happy hair remover cream.Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Paris Hilton was dead.Nicki Minaj went back inside and made herself a nice drink of wodka.THE END

ik gil

Varamyr
Princess of Pop

Varamyr schreef:

lmao wat heb ik zojuist gelezen

Daynty
Internationale ster

Daynty schreef:
Ik heb al m'n dingen met een hoofdletter ingevuld hahaha oeps

Violent Aleria Rosewood
A Short Story
by Lotte
Aleria Rosewood looked at the Grey Wallet in her hands and felt Sad.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her Barren surroundings. She had always hated Cold Reykjavik with its iffy, ill Ice. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel Sad.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of James Gramarye. James was an Impatient Hitman with Brunette Eyes and Muscular Arms.

Aleria gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a Violent, Playful, Cocktail drinker with Athletic Eyes and Fragile Arms. Her friends saw her as a dull, delightful Dragon. Once, she had even helped a hilarious Butterfly cross the road.

But not even a Violent person who had once helped a hilarious Butterfly cross the road, was prepared for what James had in store today.

The Snow flurried like Screaming Guinea pigs, making Aleria Desperate.

As Aleria stepped outside and James came closer, she could see the homely smile on his face.

"I am here because I want revenge," James bellowed, in a Careless tone. He slammed his fist against Aleria's chest, with the force of 4964 Dinosaurs. "I frigging hate you, Aleria Rosewood."

Aleria looked back, even more Desperate and still fingering the Grey Wallet. "James, I want you dead," she replied.

They looked at each other with Scared feelings, like two disturbed, dark Dragons Stabbing at a very brutal Snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two lovable uncles Crying to the beat.

Suddenly, James lunged forward and tried to punch Aleria in the face. Quickly, Aleria grabbed the Grey Wallet and brought it down on James's skull.

James's Brunette Eyes trembled and his Muscular Arms wobbled. He looked Frustrated, his body raw like a bulbous, blushing Banana.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later James Gramarye was dead.

Aleria Rosewood went back inside and made herself a nice drink of Cocktail.

THE END

Daynty
Internationale ster

Daynty schreef:

Daynty schreef:
Ik heb al m'n dingen met een hoofdletter ingevuld hahaha oeps

Violent Aleria Rosewood
A Short Story
by Lotte
Aleria Rosewood looked at the Grey Wallet in her hands and felt Sad.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her Barren surroundings. She had always hated Cold Reykjavik with its iffy, ill Ice. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel Sad.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of James Gramarye. James was an Impatient Hitman with Brunette Eyes and Muscular Arms.

Aleria gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a Violent, Playful, Cocktail drinker with Athletic Eyes and Fragile Arms. Her friends saw her as a dull, delightful Dragon. Once, she had even helped a hilarious Butterfly cross the road.

But not even a Violent person who had once helped a hilarious Butterfly cross the road, was prepared for what James had in store today.

The Snow flurried like Screaming Guinea pigs, making Aleria Desperate.

As Aleria stepped outside and James came closer, she could see the homely smile on his face.

"I am here because I want revenge," James bellowed, in a Careless tone. He slammed his fist against Aleria's chest, with the force of 4964 Dinosaurs. "I frigging hate you, Aleria Rosewood."

Aleria looked back, even more Desperate and still fingering the Grey Wallet. "James, I want you dead," she replied.

They looked at each other with Scared feelings, like two disturbed, dark Dragons Stabbing at a very brutal Snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two lovable uncles Crying to the beat.

Suddenly, James lunged forward and tried to punch Aleria in the face. Quickly, Aleria grabbed the Grey Wallet and brought it down on James's skull.

James's Brunette Eyes trembled and his Muscular Arms wobbled. He looked Frustrated, his body raw like a bulbous, blushing Banana.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later James Gramarye was dead.

Aleria Rosewood went back inside and made herself a nice drink of Cocktail.

THE END

i mean, dit klopt wel perfect met hoe dat personage is hahaha

Also, couldn't agree more:

"Saying the Snow flurried like Screaming Guinea pigs is just the kind of literary device that makes this brilliant."
- Hit the Spoof

Anoniem
Wereldberoemd

BTS schreef:
The Soot that Teased like Rampaging Rats

Hendrik Peters looked at the crumpled knife in his hands and felt grumpy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his crowded surroundings. He had always hated dirty Albert Heijn with its grotesque, giant
groceries. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel grumpy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Janine Winter. Janine was a predatory Karen with pointy heads and ugly arms.

Hendrik gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stingy, selfish, beer drinker with dirty heads and sloppy arms. His friends saw him as a deafening, disturbed dog. Once, he had even helped a lively baby son cross the road.

But not even a stingy person who had once helped a lively baby son cross the road, was prepared for what Janine had in store today.

The soot teased like rampaging rats, making Hendrik depressed.

As Hendrik stepped outside and Janine came closer, he could see the terrible smile on her face.

"I am here because I want the manager," Janine bellowed, in a ruthless tone. She slammed her fist against Hendrik's chest, with the force of
9893 bats. "I frigging hate you, Hendrik Peters."

Hendrik looked back, even more depressed and still fingering the crumpled knife. "Janine, I am the manager," he replied.

They looked at each other with unethical feelings, like two forgotten, fluffy fish shouting at a very peculiar funeral, which had metal music playing in the background and two vile uncles clinging to the beat.

Hendrik studied Janine's pointy heads and ugly arms. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you the manager," he
explained, in pitying tones.

Janine looked angry, her body raw like a concerned, crowded clock.

Hendrik could actually hear Janine's body shatter into 7747 pieces. Then the predatory Karen hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of beer would calm Hendrik's nerves tonight.

THE END

SeventhHeaven
Wereldberoemd

SeventhHeaven schreef:
Hahahahaha ahaha ik geniet. Ga ze zo allemaal eens rustig lezen

Anoniem
Popster

HarryStyles schreef:
Elliot Kingson looked at the crumpled shield in his hands and felt afraid.He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always hated peaceful Heaven with its troubled, tired trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel afraid.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dane L’avoure. Dane was an articulate lover with pretty eyes and handsome lips.
Elliot gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a caring, kind, tea drinker with tall eyes and fragile lips. His friends saw him as an afraid, adorable angel. Once, he had even brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death.
But not even a caring person who had once brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Dane had in store today. The sun shone like talking horses, making Elliot worried. As Elliot stepped outside and Dane came closer, he could see the fried glint in his eye."I am here because I want forgiveness," Dane bellowed, in an intelligent tone. He slammed his fist against Elliot's chest, with the force of 7146 foxes. "I frigging hate you, Elliot Kingson."
Elliot looked back, even more worried and still fingering the crumpled shield. "Dane, I’m sorry," he replied.
They looked at each other with lonely feelings, like two creepy, cooing cats thinking at a very stable snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles running to the beat.Elliot regarded Dane's pretty eyes and handsome lips. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered Dane.
"Please?" begged Elliot with puppy dog eyes.Dane looked upset, his body blushing like a bright, bad blade.
Then Dane came inside for a nice cup of tea.THE END

SeventhHeaven
Wereldberoemd

SeventhHeaven schreef:

HarryStyles schreef:
Elliot Kingson looked at the crumpled shield in his hands and felt afraid.He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always hated peaceful Heaven with its troubled, tired trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel afraid.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dane L’avoure. Dane was an articulate lover with pretty eyes and handsome lips.
Elliot gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a caring, kind, tea drinker with tall eyes and fragile lips. His friends saw him as an afraid, adorable angel. Once, he had even brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death.
But not even a caring person who had once brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Dane had in store today. The sun shone like talking horses, making Elliot worried. As Elliot stepped outside and Dane came closer, he could see the fried glint in his eye."I am here because I want forgiveness," Dane bellowed, in an intelligent tone. He slammed his fist against Elliot's chest, with the force of 7146 foxes. "I frigging hate you, Elliot Kingson."
Elliot looked back, even more worried and still fingering the crumpled shield. "Dane, I’m sorry," he replied.
They looked at each other with lonely feelings, like two creepy, cooing cats thinking at a very stable snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles running to the beat.Elliot regarded Dane's pretty eyes and handsome lips. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered Dane.
"Please?" begged Elliot with puppy dog eyes.Dane looked upset, his body blushing like a bright, bad blade.
Then Dane came inside for a nice cup of tea.THE END

ahahahahaha wtffff

Anoniem
Popster

HarryStyles schreef:

SeventhHeaven schreef:

HarryStyles schreef:
Elliot Kingson looked at the crumpled shield in his hands and felt afraid.He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always hated peaceful Heaven with its troubled, tired trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel afraid.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dane L’avoure. Dane was an articulate lover with pretty eyes and handsome lips.
Elliot gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a caring, kind, tea drinker with tall eyes and fragile lips. His friends saw him as an afraid, adorable angel. Once, he had even brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death.
But not even a caring person who had once brought an energetic injured bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Dane had in store today. The sun shone like talking horses, making Elliot worried. As Elliot stepped outside and Dane came closer, he could see the fried glint in his eye."I am here because I want forgiveness," Dane bellowed, in an intelligent tone. He slammed his fist against Elliot's chest, with the force of 7146 foxes. "I frigging hate you, Elliot Kingson."
Elliot looked back, even more worried and still fingering the crumpled shield. "Dane, I’m sorry," he replied.
They looked at each other with lonely feelings, like two creepy, cooing cats thinking at a very stable snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles running to the beat.Elliot regarded Dane's pretty eyes and handsome lips. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.
"Hmph," pondered Dane.
"Please?" begged Elliot with puppy dog eyes.Dane looked upset, his body blushing like a bright, bad blade.
Then Dane came inside for a nice cup of tea.THE END

ahahahahaha wtffff

“Fingering the crumpled shield” ik ga stuk

Saika
YouTube-ster

Saika schreef:
The Peculiar Guillotine
Elaine Middelton was thinking about Cassian Noon again. Cassian was a violent elephant with curvaceous elbows and chubby warts.
Elaine walked over to the window and reflected on her cosy surroundings. She had always loved cold Bedroom with its brawny, burnt balcony. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel anxious.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a violent figure of Cassian Noon.
Elaine gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a controlling, sympathetic, wine drinker with ruddy elbows and pointy warts. Her friends saw her as a grisly, greasy god. Once, she had even helped a dirty kitten cross the road.
But not even a controlling person who had once helped a dirty kitten cross the road, was prepared for what Cassian had in store today.
The wind blew like walking frogs, making Elaine sleepy. Elaine grabbed a peculiar guillotine that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Elaine stepped outside and Cassian came closer, she could see the dripping smile on his face.
Cassian gazed with the affection of 1948 articulate kind kittens. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a phone number."
Elaine looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the peculiar guillotine. "Cassian, beam me up Scotty," she replied.
They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two gigantic, graceful giraffes partying at a very proud birthday party, which had classical music playing in the background and two snooty uncles eating to the beat.
Elaine regarded Cassian's curvaceous elbows and chubby warts. "I feel the same way!" revealed Elaine with a delighted grin.
Cassian looked calm, his emotions blushing like a rainy, rough record.
Then Cassian came inside for a nice glass of wine.
THE END

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