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 This year I'm going to give more blood.
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Dec 30, 2016 04:30
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Kaishai posted:Thunderdome 2017teen: A Golden Competition Worth 5 Million US Words
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Dec 31, 2016 02:27
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Thunderdome 2017teen: Stop Responding to Crits You Nitwits
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Dec 31, 2016 02:28
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Suggestion: Preening about your writing styles, intentions, or any other elements of your story, whether written as a preface to your story or in response to results/criticism, should be a probatable offense. Take it to IRC.
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Dec 31, 2016 02:33
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sebmojo posted:One of the unspoken commandments is don't get mods involved, not least because one outcome means losing the free avatar each week. Another reason is that mod involvement would lead to rules lawyering which is poison.I feel like the community here does a good job of policing itself with words and swear words? I recognize and agree that it's bad to get mods involved. When I was thinking probation, I was more thinking that you were probated from participating in the next week or something. Again, too many rules are bad, so the above suggestion is unnecessary, but public rumination about how you are going to improve is nothing more than white noise trying to validate how cute or clever your idea was. It shouldn't be encouraged.
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Dec 31, 2016 02:52
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i dont like anyone
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Jan 1, 2017 05:02
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except for flerp
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Jan 1, 2017 05:03
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Resolution: Give more blood Universal Donor 1246 Words Diana toed herself to the edge of the flimsy bathroom door and listened through the gushing of the tub faucet. She knocked. No response. “You forgot to grab a towel,” Diana called. Yes, Jolene had locked the bathroom door, so Diana reasoned that it would be rude to barge on in, but the old brick apartment sat crooked on its foundation, and none of the locks, even those on the front door, ever actually caught. “Use the chain,” her landlord had said. Anyways, it was silly to worry about catching an immodest glimpse of Jolene after the two just spent a half-hour loving as a conclusion to their first date, so Diana just pushed open the door. She was feeling bold tonight. “I’m leaving a towel for you,” Diana said. She never expected to find Jolene’s pale and sputtering body bleeding out in the basin of her tub. “Oh god,” Diana said as she turned off the water “ohgodohgodohgodohgod.” One of her razors, the plastic housing pried away, lay discarded on the floor. The gash could have been an inch deep and was cut with purpose, that much was clear. Diana watched the gash bubble, well up, and overflow with each of Jolene’s final weak heartbeats. Diana was on the phone with an emergency dispatcher when the flow subsided into a trickle as shallow as Jolene’s breathing. “Please,” Diana muttered to God or any other cosmic entity. “Please, no.” There wasn’t a flickering of lights, or some magic spark that jumped from skin to skin, or anything like that, but something happened, because as Diana braced her head against the wall of the tub, unprepared to watch a woman die, she felt the tickling of too-cold fingers on the back of her neck. When she lifted her head, Diana met her lover’s cloudy eyes. Then, she felt the warm and heavy flow of new blood spurt across her face. “Oh poo poo,” Jolene said. “I’m still bleeding.” Diana grabbed the towel and pressed it into the butterflied meat of Jolene’s forearm. Jolene howled in pain. “You need pressure,” Diana said. “An ambulance is coming.” The powder blue towel turned a lovely shade of purple as it absorbed pints of Jolene. “Cancel the ambulance,” Jolene said. “This is what I want.” “gently caress you,” Diana said. Jolene lifted herself on wobbly legs, careful not to slip on the bottom of the tub, while heavy streams of blood whapped against the tile in spurts. Her legs grew steadier beneath her. “You can’t just...” Diana began before pausing to notice the color flushing back into Jolene’s cheeks. Instead, she asked, “What’s happening with you?” “I’ve been depressed for a long time,” Jolene said, “and I was worried that if I did it in my apartment, nobody would find my-” “Not that,” Diana said. Jolene’s wound continued to squirt across the bathroom tile onto Diana’s bare feet, and Diana could see Jolene’s heart thumping hard within her chest. “You should be dead,” Diana added. Outside on the street, the flashing of a red siren bounced off the walls of neighboring buildings. Then the doorbell rang. *** “You’re the patient’s family?” the doctor asked. “Her sister,” Diana said. “Well, the good news is that with the help of a tourniquet, several grams of a clotting agent, and many stitches, we were able to stop the bleeding.” “And is there bad news?” Diana asked. “She’s on suicide watch,” the doctor said, “we’d like to keep her here for a few nights.” “Absolutely not!” Jolene called from the other side of a divider curtain. She emerged from the other side, her arm wrapped in heavy gauze and tape. “We’re leaving right now,” Jolene declared. The doctor ripped a prescription from his pad and handed it to Diana. “There’s going to be some swelling,” he said, “but make sure she takes her antibiotics and we’ll see her in two weeks.” *** Diana pulled two glasses from the cupboard and drilled a corkscrew into the mouth of a wine bottle. “What did you do to me in the tub?” Jolene asked. Diana stood in front of the counter and sipped. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just wanted you to be okay.” Jolene downed the glass in two gulps. The fuzzy muck of the painkillers was beginning to wear thin, and the searing feeling within her arm was too much to handle. Jolene reached out for the bottle in preparation for another glass and felt the inside of her arm ripple and slosh under her skin. She pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt above her elbow and revealed the skin of her arm, bloated and sagging under the weight of fluid buildup. At first a single stitch ripped through the eyelet of pierced skin, and stale blood squirted through the slit in Jolene’s skin. Then, with a nearly inaudible snap, another eyelet popped. And then, all at once, the seam along Jolene’s tender forearm split like an overfilled grocery bag onto the counter, washing the corkscrew from the counter in a red wave. Diana caught it before it hit the floor. Jolene continued to spurt. “Make it stop!” she shouted. “Whatever it is that you wanted just un-want it.” “I don’t think I can be responsible for your death,” Diana said. Jolene waved her forearm, spraying the cabinets and walls in her blood. “You’re responsible for this,” she said, before hanging her arm over the sink. “Actually, you’re-” Diana began. “You’re ruining the flatware!” she shouted. Jolene saw that she was also ruining the dishes, so she grabbed a roll of paper towels and smushed them into the viscera before running into the bathroom and standing, again, in the dirty tub. Diana, corkscrew still in hand, followed. “Say your prayer.” Jolene said, “Think really hard. Whatever you have to do. Just make it stop.” Diana closed her eyes and thought as hard as a person could. “You’re not trying!” Jolene shouted. “I am, it’s just difficult.” “Ugh, I can feel it in my veins,” Jolene said. “The blood’s so thick that my arms and legs hurt!” Jolene snatched the corkscrew and plunged it deep into her other arm. “There’s too much in me!” she shouted. Jolene tore away at the skin as she dragged the tool lengthwise down her arm. “The pressure!” she said as more blood began to flow. “gently caress!” Diana shouted. Jolene plunged the corkscrew three times into her leg and each hole erupted, yet her heart beat stronger and stronger, pushing new blood to the voids. “Stop it!” she pleaded. “I’m sorry!” “I-” Diana started. Jolene grabbed Diana by the neck and bounced her head off the shower tile. She rolled Diana onto her back and into the tub so that her head sat on the tub stopper. For Diana, the world faded in and out of existence, and after just a minute or so, Jolene’s blood began seeping into her ears until the only thing Diana could hear was the sound of streams pouring from Jolene and slapping against the surface of the rising blood tide. She tried to rise, but Jolene was too strong in her rage, and soon the blood rose over her cheekbones and poured into her mouth and nasal cavity and over the surface of her eyes. Jolene held Diana under the surface until her body stopped kicking, and the bubbles, slowly popping up through the thick, stopped entirely. Then, Jolene’s wounds began to trickle, and she collapsed into the tub.
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Jan 2, 2017 05:47
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thunderdome 2017: i cant read, and yet i write
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Jan 2, 2017 20:33
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The legit best title is Kaishai's golden bean line
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Jan 2, 2017 20:53
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Ironic Twist posted:my allegiance is to wordplay, so Prose and Cons yeah Djeser's is good too
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Jan 2, 2017 21:27
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