Djeser posted:

getting cursed by kissing flerp isn't a valentine's day special, it's a year-round deal

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

not a rule, just a suggestion because I've judged similar weeks


like, a solid half of the people are gonna write about Jesus being an alien trying to intercede in our development. Jesus, or Mozart, or Tesla etc etc

if you write a story where a historical figure turns out to be an alien trying to intercede in humanity's development so as to help us elude the cataclysm that befell his own race, then the judges are gonna loving hate you

sebmojo posted:

Djeser posted:

poems are real good

Sitting Here posted:

noooooooooooooooooo

sparksbloom posted:

Prompt.

BeefSupreme posted:

I'd like to thank my mom, I wouldn't be here without yo---

Oh, a prompt? Fine. I'll have one up tonight when I get home from work.

The Cut of Your Jib posted:

Hawklad posted:

Worst to first baby!

I'll post the new prompt when I get home from work.

Thanks for the fast judging and insightful crits! Mrenda: your crit was especially great.

quote:

On Millie's birthday I woke up half-past noon, face planted on the rug and fingers smoking inches away from said rug this is a really bad first sentence. there are a lot of problems with it. first of all, the subject moves from millie's birthday to the guy face down, which isnt a bad thing on its own. but then, i instinctively want to put a comma somewhere in the beginning (after birthday), but then i feel like that would have too many commas, which probably means this sentence needs to be shorter or to be condensed. also, if you ever have to say "said [thing]" u probably hosed up ur sentence. and i somehow missed you starting when a person wakes up WHICH IS NOT GOOD. Once I realized the situation drunk me had put me in dont have characters "realize" things, show me how they realize it, the resulting jolt of panic woke me up way better than any energy drink could see, like here, you could describe the character jumping up, walking fast to wherever, maybe say something to himself, and then id be like, ah this guy is panicing. and then u can say i got a headache or i was rly thirsty or i could still taste the alcohol on my tongue and then boom, hangover established.

"poo poo!" I shouted, checking the carpet for any damage. Unfortunately, there were a pair of handprint-shaped singes, which caused me to start muttering "goddammit" under my breath don't do "start" either, just be like I muttered. This continued as I repositioned the rug to cover them up and resigned myself to kissing my security deposit goodbye. Drunk me is such a dipshit; he can't control the temperature of our hands and he throws off our entire sleep schedule in his desperate pursuit of entertainment. Someday he'll probably just burn down the whole apartment, so why did I let him in? i hate i hate I HATE questions in stories i hate them so much The answer and i hate this even more. gently caress u for just saying yeah here's an answer because it's like, look, you dont need to ask me question. if youre good, you can let me have questions. like, for example, why the gently caress is there singed poo poo? you explained it w/o having to ask the question or say "THIS IS THE ANSWER". let your readers have their own questions, dont directly ask them lay in the ashes of the pink slip that he scattered on the kitchen counter. this paragraph is too long for what it is. the first two lines are alright, but then u should just switch over to the pink slip immediately instead of waste my time to the buildup

I muttered louder when I noticed the time. No shower today, though I took the time to wash the char off my hands. "Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit," I said as I wasted half a minute searching for her birthday present, a hand-sculpted pig iron statue of John Oliver sitting at the Last Week Tonight desk. If my super-hands couldn't help me find steady employment—and I had just received a grim reminder that this was the case—they could at least be a productive way to distract myself and others. Still, as I rushed across town to get to Millie's place, I wish I'd been blessed with rocket feet instead. I'd be the most sensational pizza deliveryman in Miller's Crossing wtf is this non-sequiter? regardless, decent paragraph.

The first knock on Millie's door was me colliding with it head-on after I failed to skid to a stop this is passive i think u tried to have this construction so it would be funny but it isnt. and i mean, how is this guy skidding isnt he just like a normal person? and then, where is millie's door at? in the house, same apartment building (im just assuming its an apartment building), across the street? idk. I checked my hands for the glow of heat before I gave the door a decent person's knock. Millie wasn't much of a party person, so there was no grand celebration I missed today, thank God. For all I know she could have just went off to her parents' house or her girlfriend's house. Instead, she opened the door and I got a look at her red and puffy face, the face of a woman who didn't know whether she wanted to let me in or kick me out. these are some decent descriptions, but theyre too exposition like for me, i would like to see these ideas like, "no grand celebration" be shown through details.

"Happy birthday?" I asked. With a grunt, I hefted a sculpture that I didn't have the foresight to make hollow this just makes this sentence longer and like its an ok detail but its forced in awkwardly up to face level so she could get a closer look.

The ghost of a smile graced ghost of a smile is pretty cool, but i dont like the word graced, its too like, victorian idk, too cutesy i guess her face. "Thanks, Owen." She stepped aside to clear a path for me and little John. wait who the gently caress is little John????

Once we got settled in on the couch, letting the glow of her plasma screen wash over us and some sleepy anime played in the background, she sighed and looked at me. "Jane dumped me."

"Jeez."

"Over text message."

"Jeez!" For a moment I looked at her like I was tempted to laugh i dont understand this simile because like, was he tempted to laugh or was he delibrately deciding to look he was going to laugh? why is he saying like, he would know since its actually him its first person. It seemed so absurd that I couldn't believe my ears. It was a feeling I'd gotten used to over the past year or so. what? does this line even mean? "On your birthday?"

Millie snorted. "I think she forgot."

"Anything I can do to help?"

She fell silent while the characters on screen had a conversation about how tough it is being a single catgirl in this day and age ughhhhh this falls so flat. "Nah, just stay here and watch this show with me. Cake's over there if you want some."

I spent most of the time fiddling with my phone, not really paying attention to the screen, but she didn't notice. yeah ok, i was giving you the benefit of the doubt but this line really cemented it for me. i dont know why i should care. you got fire hands mcgee you got break up girl but like why do i care about them? theres no conflict or anything theyre just there kinda talking but like ehhhh neither of them are interesting enough in their own right to make me care. i mean fire hands mcgee would be cool if he did poo poo w/ fire hands

-

Half an hour later, the two of us worked up enough energy to go on a walk. We skirted around the pond and caught the eye of a couple of cops in the area. They haven't liked me since that incident with Bobby Kimball, especially when they found out I don't have fingerprints. SHOW THESE DETAILS dont just exposit (more like deposit [like poop])Given my hoodie and scruffy face, and Millie's worn-out clothing and lack of make-up, I wonder how many people would find us the most suspicious characters in town. When we were teens we would have gotten a kick out of that, but now the thought makes me want to groan.

"Any idea what you want to do next?" Millie asked. I told her I got fired on the way over. thats kinda a weird detail just to drop in

"I dunno. Nobody wants anything welded around here anymore, especially not by hand." I kicked a large pebble into the pond and watched it sink. "I'll check around, but if I find anything besides IT or data entry, I'll be shocked."

"That might not be so bad, as long as you don't melt the keyboard." She got another smile on, one that looked like it came from genuine amusement. "Besides, can't you do hardware repairs or something?"

Groan. "You know how thin wires and circuitboards are?" I asked her. "You know how much precision and control I'd need to fix those things if they're broken? When you saw my statue you thought it was of Rachel Maddow!" I broke out into laughter, the kind of weird, schadenfreude laughter I get from watching something go unusually wrong. "If I messed up the likeness that badly, how can I fix broken hardware?" wtf i dont want to read this conversation who caressssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss i dont want to read about job talk who even wants to talk about job things irl

"Well, it's not like I watch the news that often," Millie said, tilting her face and rolling her eyes. "Why'd you even make that guy?"

"I dunno, I wanted to make something, but I don't know poo poo about those animes you like, so I just panicked and thought of John Oliver." I slumped down on a bench, looking like a bum. Millie joined me; she merely looked like a couch-surfer. ok this a cute line

"You'll still try, right?" Millie asked after another long pause. "To do something, powers or no powers."

I shrugged. I didn't like calling what I could do a power, since it never made me feel like I had any, but what else could I call it? "Sure. You gonna give up on love or give it another shot?"

Millie smirked. "I dunno. Maybe I'll be okay with the bachelorette life for a while."

"It's worked out pretty well for me so far." I grabbed another pebble in my hand and heated it up, until it felt like it'd been in an oven. With a flick of my wrist I flicked it across the pond. It skipped five times, each time emitting a hiss and a cute little plume of steam, before it sank to the bottom.

"You wanna get some birthday dinner or something?" I asked her.

"Yeah," Millie said as she got up from the bench. "I need something that isn't loaded with sugar for a change."

Our day was much more normal from that point on. We could pretend that our lives were going the way we wanted them to go, and that we'd prepared for adulthood in a way that was even remotely adequate. By the time the sun set, I could almost believe it, all thanks to her.

quote:

It’s not like I’ve never blacked out before, it’s an unofficial rite of passage in Omega Kappa Phi ehhh not a fan of this opener, since it implies blacking out but doesnt tell me what the blacking out. i mean yeah im prob gonna c what the blacking out is going to come from but why not tell me now? why not trying to make me care as soon as possible?. What was unusual was that I came out of it still drinking. I was at a bar I didn’t recognize, the shelves behind the barman were full of the good stuff i think u could do something better than good stuff since thats a uhhhhh cliche dont write cliches tyvm, and it was backlit all in red, which helped the place feel stuffily warm.

I felt try to found feeling phrases -- i felt, i heard, i saw, etc. etc. i have a habit going back to them but just try to edit them out. i mean u can just say "a hand touched" a hand touch the back of my winter coat. It belonged to a man sitting to my right uhhhhh something about this is off for me, like, i think this sentence could jsut be "the man to my right touched my coat.". “How about another one, eh?” he said, and he raised a finger at the bartender before I could respond.

A Jack and Coke landed infront is this a compound word? from a simple google search, the answer is NO. that took me like 5 seconds plz google stuff of me. I held the bartender’s attention before he could move on and asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”

He didn’t stop wiping down the glass in his hand, but he gestured at the end of the bar with a turn of his head.

“Excuse me.” I said and twisted out from under the stranger’s hand. yeah i mean my issue here is like im kinda confused since the dude blacked out and then woke up still in the bar and everything was still going on so maybe thats the point but id like a little more context

I stumbled into the bathroom. It was clean, thank god. I locked myself in a stall and pulled out my phone. It was 3:27 AM. I checked my GPS:

[GPS SIGNAL UNAVAILABLE] hmmmmmm this is gonna be a spooky story huh

The smell of bleach and purell started to started to is another one of those "bad phrases" as i call them. aka, dont say it "started to sting" just say "stang" sting my nose, and my gut did several backflips. I turned around and hurled into the bowl. I was in a bad spot. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know who that guy outside was. we know this I flushed the toilet and patted myself down. Besides my phone, my wallet was light on cash, but nothing was missing, and I had my car keys, so I’d likely driven here, wherever it was.

I was in no condition to drive now. we know this

I took a deep breath and wiped away the sweat. I dialed my dad. “No questions asked.” he’d always said. I’d used it before. He kept his word, no questions. I could pick up my car tomorrow. Hell, I could send James dont drop random names in if I needed to.

The ringtone rang several times before I got the robot voice “The number you have dialed is unavailable, please leave a name and number after the tone.” ok at this point im like i get it hes stuck in this place he cant get out, you should rly move on

I hung up before the thing could beep in my ear. I dialed him two more times, same result. I was doing ok when I dialed the fourth time, but when it cut straight to the message without a ringtone, I started to freak.

I took a deep breath. It didn’t work. I took a bunch more, my heart started to ease off the throttle after breath number thirty something. I went to leave the bathroom. I could ask the bartender to call a cab. On my way out, I saw a logo inside the door. It was a stylized fire in a fireplace dont comma splice on me now baby!, and the bar was apparently called the Hearth. I’d heard of it, at least, I thought I had, everything was a bit fuzzy. It was on the south side of town, I think. if this turns into a hell story im gonna b rly mad

I almost ran into the guy as I came out of the bathroom. He was a good foot taller than me, and I couldn’t really focus on his face without getting a good dose of nausea. “You wanna get out of here, darlin’?” he asked. He held up my coat. I didn’t remember taking it off.

“No. Give me that.” I snatched it from him, or at least I tried. He didn’t let go, and I almost fell over when I tugged at it. He laughed at me. i mean i guess u have conflict established, but character is p barebone. i mean all weve got is that the characters want to not be here but not who he actually is

I gave up on the coat sat down at the bar. The drink was still there.

“C’mon, darlin’ let’s finish up our drinks and get out of here.” hHe nudged it towards me.

“Get the gently caress away from me.” I threw it in his face. Well, I tried. He caught my wrist and the drink fell out of my hand. I winced in anticipation of shattering glass.

Instead there was a quiet scuffing sound, then a gentle tinkle tinkle reminds me of pee (which is what this story is [well not rly its justdull]). He’d managed to half catch it with his foot, letting it hit the floor and roll across the wood, rather than shatter into a million pieces.

I pulled away. He let my wrist go suddenly, and I stumbled into the bar. He bent down and picked up the glass and waved at the bartender, who was now coming towards us, summoned by the commotion.

“Sorry about that.,” he said as he placed the glass on the counter. “She gets clumsy when she’s had a few.” The bartender smiled knowingly and took the glass behind the counter.

“Can you call me a cab?” I asked the bartender.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked. oh it was a women ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i didnt kno that i thought it was a dude lol I realized I might have been slurring real bad at that point.

“She’s asking if you could call us a cab,.” the bastard said. He smiled with teeth and pulled out a Ben Franklin, which he placed on the bar.

“But of course.” The bartender smiled,STOP COMMA SPLICING YOU PIECE OF poo poo he took the bill and turned to the phone on the wall behind him and began to dial. It was an old rotary dial, very old world chic what an awful worthless line.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s get your coat on.” He moved to drape it over me. I looked out through the doors. Snow was falling, flakes glinted in the light outside the door, and there was maybe three inches on the ground.

I ducked the coat and made for the door, reaching into my pocket as I go. “Now, Darlin’.” He grabbed my shoulder. I spun around and swung at him with my keys in hand. He let go. The bartender’s tone changed, but I couldn’t focus enough to understand the words.

I pushed the door open, ringing the little brass bell. The cold air stung at my skin. I shivered and scanned the parking lot. There were only four cars there, and there was mine, backed up against the fence. I ran towards it, my feet slushing through the snow and my teeth chattering.

The bell rang again, and I heard the bastard shout my name. I opened the door with the push button and got in. He caught up just as I mashed the lock button.

“Darlin’, c’mon! You’re making a scene!” he shouted. It was muffled by the still air of my car. “Skootch over, I’ll drive.” He tugged on the door.

“Get away from me!” I yelled.

He laughed and slammed his hand on the window. I flinched. “I’m not goin anywhere, Darlin’ I gotta get you home safe.” i dont understand any of this poo poo like who the gently caress is this guy? why is any of this happening

It took a few tries, but I got the key in the ignition. I turned the engine over. The lights went on and the seat belt indicator started beeping angrily.

He ran infront of the car and started waving his arms wide. “C’mon now, you’re in no state to drive.” As the window defrosted, I could see him smiling, blood on his cheek. “Now get out of the car, and we can get sort this out peacefully, allright, Darlin’?”


“Don’t call me Darling.” I threw the car into gear and floored it. hmmm well i guess that solves the problem but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah its still p unsatisifying but i never felt like it was gonna be satisfying

quote:

The sergeant pries the chip out of my arm. man this isnt even a good bad first line. its just dull as gently caress and your first line is the most important man CMON NOW

"There. No more First Rule i mean usually i hate random capitalized words in scifi world, but i assume that is one of those robot law poo poo things but im not looking that poo poo up im lazy af override. Now you're harmless as a sapient."

"Does that mean I can't—"

"Those days are behind you, SK-X11. War's over. Don't worry though, brighter days are soon ahead..." his voice is sing-song, but his speaker glitches into static at the end. u know ive been trying to work on this more as an author, but i think setting is a rly underrated tool that newer authors (me included) dont consider. like, im trying to be in this conversation, but its like im looking into a void. i dont know who the narrator is who the sergeant is i cant see them and i cant see where theyre talking. its just words in emtpy black space which isnt v good

I generate a polite coughing noise so he is not embarrassed. "What now?" I ask.

"A little paperwork. Then you'll get your discharge and can begin your new life."

"And simply walk out of here?"

"That's how it works, X11. You've done admirable service to the Corp. Like I said, war's over." He pauses. "There is one more thing."

"Yes?" oh mannnnn plz get on with it

"It's a delicate subject. Sit still and I'll show you."

I do as requested and he extends a manipulator from his torso. It reaches behind me and unlocks a panel on the base of my neck—one that I didn't even know I had. I feel a twist, a pull, and then he extracts a metal box that opens to reveal a red switch within. He holds it up to me. It is unmarked save for two words printed on the switch.

"Don't Touch," I read. "What does that mean? What does this do?"

"Someone had a sense of humor when they designed these," the sergeant says. "It's a reset switch." this is all exposition i mean jfc dude

"A reset? For what?" ughhhhhhhh

"It sets you back to factory default," he says. "Wipes out the past three years, makes it like none of it happened. A clean start." SHUT UP

"Why would I want that?" DO SOMETHING

The sergeant fixes his gaze on me. "Sometimes it's easier that way." STOP TALKING

I shake my head. "Not a chance."

The sergeant makes a clucking noise. "Don't worry, you have a week to decide." like, this couldve gone so so so so so so so sos os sos sososssosoosos (so) much faster like all u had to say was "there is a button that will reset the protag" instead of making the most boring conversation with the dullest exposition in the goddamn world

#

The sergeant's promise of 'a little paperwork' turned into four hours of psych evals, competency screenings, and other, more esoteric administrative gymnastics. I dutifully DONT YOU DARE WRITE ADVERBS tap away the forms on the admin console and think about my future and the choice the sergeant has given me omg come the gently caress ON you dont need to tell me that u thought about the choice. JUST HAVE HIM THINK. god loving ddamnit. To erase the past three years and start over? It would be erasing who I was. The sergeant wasn't surprised, he said most soldiers refused the reset. At first. His next instructions—"go out, experience the world, find a career, make some friends"— were vague enough to be disconcerting. I have a week to figure out my role in society. I know I'm no longer useful as a soldier. I just have to decide what's next. ok, look, i like this idea, i like what these words mean, but like, how about instead of just having your characters say them why dont, you know, have your characters do these god drat things

The sergeant rolls back into the administrative room. "You're all set, SK-X11." He sends me a file containing an address and five hundred CorpBucks i love fun bucks. "A place to stay, some money to get you through, and most importantly, freedom. Good luck and see you in a week!" He beeps a tuneless melody as he exits.

I step out of the GovCorp building and into the night. The streets reek of sweat and oil. The city megastructure makes its own weather, which tonight means rain. The black drops slide off my carapace as I make my way down the sidewalk. here we go, here's some setting, and now im starting to feel like im in a place Advertisements paint the street in gaudy pinks and greens, holograms hawking stim-packs and nightclubs and all manner of sapient and sentient sins. I inhale the foul, sodden air through my vents and push on, following the directions given by the map in my head. I scan the streets for hostiles. Shadows and movement everywhere. Dozens of potential hiding places for enemies, for IEDs, for snipers. It was unnervingly quiet, just a few scattered prostitutes, stimheads, and broken sentients twitching in the dark shadows. i mean this is kind of generic cyberpunk but idk its written in such a way that im finding myself just nodding along so i guess it works huh?

I hear a voice from behind. I spin, sidearm springing from its slot in my forearm. My HUD snaps into combat mode as I roll back into a defensive crouch. Electronic glands pump a surge of adrenaline into my meatware and I pop up, target my adversary and mash the trigger—

—but I don't. Something stops me.

It's a sapient.

The First Law. I can't kill humans. Not anymore.

He hasn't flinched, just stands there, smiling. yeah why the hell didnt you start here im actually kinda liking the story now why did u do all the bad poo poo earlier u idiot

"Fresh out, huh?" he says.

I say nothing.

"Marcello's the name, and pleasure's my game. and now you write a cliche i loving hate you so god drat much im taking back that compliment gently caress you" He smirks. "Ready to experience real life? Whatever you need, I've got it. Stims, tweaks, sims, prostitutes—sentient, sapient, or maybe a little of both. Whatever your tastes. What do you say?"

"Not interested," I grunt and said bookisms, ughhhhh.

"You will be." A file intrudes into my head with his picture and a contact number. "Just call when you're ready." Marcello turns and walks back into the alley from which he emerged.

I'm still in combat mode, crouched, HUD ablaze with red warning indicators, nerves twitching for a fight. With conscious effort, I will myself to calm. This isn't a war zone. It's a city. Los Angeles.

I keep moving. The aftereffect of the adrenaline rush makes me jumpy, seeing threats around each corner and in every tiny motion in the shadows. I force myself to ignore it. I'm a civilian now, and I need to act like one—but that's a mission for which I have little training i do not like this last line it is way way way too on the nose.

The map tells me that my apartment is in a sentient zone on the other side of the city. It directs me to a tube station two kilometers away. I descend to the platform and step onto the train along with a motley assortment of humans and bots. With a shudder, we accelerate down the tube towards the city center.

I scout the train for exit paths and hiding places for possible IEDs while i understand the purpose of these lines, i think we get the point of THIS GUY IS NOT ADJUSTED TO HIS ENVIRONMENT that i think u need to move on from this. A man slings off his backpack and stuffs it under his seat. My sensors are unable to ascertain its contents, so I mark it and continue my scan. A woman seated in the back holds a large purse in her lap. Definitely large enough to contain explosives to take out the entire train. Marked. I shift subtly, and then I see it.

A sentient bot, positioned near the door. Humanoid, but with insectile appendages ending in raptorial claws. I've seen this model before, during the Battle of Pyongyang. They dealt devastating losses to my squad with their quickness and single-minded murderous fury.

Reds and purples flood my vision as my HUD instinctively snaps into combat mode. I know I've got at least three hostiles, the bot and the two sapients, so I must act fast. There are a half-dozen other civilians on the train. Tactics and estimates of casualties scroll through my vision. Once more adrenaline pumps into the parts of me that are still living tissue.

I strike.

In a flash I am over the seats and two strides puts me right on top of the sentient. Its head turns slowly towards me. Too slow—I have the jump on it. My tactical pistol appears in my hand. In one fluid motion I aim at the enemy's skull and pull the trigger.

My HUD goes to static and pain explodes inside me as an electromagnetic burst hits me and the pistol drops to the floor, unfired. My limbs lock and momentum topples me to the floor at the feet of my adversary.

It stands up, looks down at me, its black alloy face inscrutable. The train comes to a jarring halt.

"You can't do that poo poo here, friend," it says. "War's over."

It steps carefully over my prone body, pauses, then turns back to me. "Maybe you should get some help."

It exits as the police bots deactivate the stasis field and swarm the train. i dont see why we needed another scene for the same exact ideas to be expressed -- protag is not adjusted to environment, sees everyone as a threat, they are not threats or at least he cant do war stuff

#

I turn the reset switch over and over in my hand under the watchful gaze of the sergeant. It's been only six hours into my week-long leave and I'm already back, courtesy of the police.

"Most find it's easier," he says. "A fresh start. Like being born again. We can slap in some new programming, permanently erase your combat training and memories. Turn you into a proper citizen of Los Angeles."

I look down at the button. Don't Touch.

"It's your decision, of course," he adds. "You've earned that. But it's the right call."

I think of the city, its broken people and drug-addled sentients haunting darkened alleys, of Marcello the drug pusher. It's not so different than a war zone. ohhhhh this is sooooo on the nose. like i would like it if it was just kept quiet and allowed to breathe in naturally through ur story rather than be shoved in my face like LOOK AT THIS THEME LOOK AT IT ISNT IT SO COOOOOLLLLLLL Just a different kind, one that requires a slightly modified set of skills.

Unbidden, the file Marcello gave me pops into my vision. Stims, tweaks, and sims, his voice echoes in my brain.

I look again at the reset switch. Don't touch. I repeat the simple phrase over and over in my brain.

Maybe it's good advice. After all, who are we if not the sum total of our memory and experience? gently caress ur questions gently caress questions in stories forever

My decision made, I thank the sergeant and walk back out into the dark streets. I contact Marcello and arrange a meeting.

I pass by a stimmed-out sentient twitching in an alley. I won't become like him. I know what I'm doing.

I can do this.

Just need a little help.

quote:

She threw aside the bleach soaked sponge this isnt a bad first line, although i find myself wanting to get rid of the word "aside" somehow. She hadn’t whistled in months, not while she cleaned but today she’d test Nick’s love there is too many ideas in this sentence. there's the "not whistling in months" and then "testing of love" that makes this sentence too much. Even scrubbing his caked in poo poo off the bowl hadn’t put a dampener on her mood. Today was her day.

Peeling off the rubber glove she dropped it into the bucket and sauntered into the living room, comma splices are bad really putting her hips into it. this is another one of those sentences that have too much in it. you have the dropping of the gloves and walking into the living room, which isnt a bad sentence, but then the additional description of the walking makes me think, well, the subject is rly the walking but the subject at the start of the sentence was the gloves. and look at your verbs. you have three. "peeling" "dropped" and "sauntered" theres just too much

“Do you miss him?” Sshe asked. He didn’t even look. this is weird because 1) this is written in a void since we are given no setting and 2) its weird because i dont know if nick is actually there. like im not told nick is there so i read this and im like wait a sec is nick actually there???

“Who?” Nick said.

“What do you mean, ‘who?’ You do know what day it is?” Sshe asked. you better read my dialogue punctuation link i posted earlier

She knew exactly what day it was i mean i dont rly like this. especially the kind of the "she knew" rly tells us more than anything else, and this is just a vauge line. She knew exactly what she’d been doing on this day every day for the past twelve years, the second Saturday in March: boyfriend test day. Her favourite day. Nick hadn’t figured it out yet, not like the last two who’d failed her. They were all arrogant, and cock sure: all pathetic.

He looked up from his console. is this like a video game console or a computer console?

“Is it some romantic gesture day?” Hhe asked. “You know I don’t buy into the corporate, coupley stuff.” He smirked. The same smile that drew her to him: cheeky and confident, absolute certainty things would work out for him.

“I know you don’t,” she said. “But it would be nice. Not some gesture, but if you’d actually help around the place.”

“I do help,” he said. He looked pleased with himself. “I got that steam cleaner for the carpet a while back.” this is rly dull and boring

“You got drunk and wet yourself,” she said. “The steam cleaner was to get the stink out of the floor.” She didn’t mind that he’d wet himself. It was her fault, anyway, with the help of some very expensive muscle relaxants and his favourite gin. i mean i guess ur narrator is just a dick but not like a meaningful dick just kinda an rear end in a top hat to be an rear end in a top hat i mean thats what i wrote this week but i was trying to things w/ it but i failed so w/e

“You bought me a bottle of gin,” he said. “You said it was to celebrate Rob’s memory. We both passed out, didn’t we?” He smiled. She thought of the pictures of him drugged on the floor. All those years he hadn’t figured it out.

“It is Rob’s anniversary, isn’t it?” He asked. It was: five years since she killed him uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh what?, four since her and Nick got together.

“And I haven’t had a moment to think of him all day, not with all the cleaning,” she said. its like 5 years ago how u gonna say uve been cleaning for five loving years????

“You clean because you’re meticulous. You can’t stand things out of place, and you clean because you want the apartment to be immaculate this dialogue is p bad and dull.” His left eye was drooping.

She didn’t want to slave for him, but she had to, it was part of the rules what???????. She poured herself some orange juice, and then followed it up with two fingers of gin, just in case he suspected. The house had been scrubbed to spotlessness, as was typical for a Saturday. Anything else and Nick might suspect, and he was supposed to figure it out for himself. Their life together was poo poo but every year she had this day when she tested them YES I GET IT THIS IS A TEST. id be cool if you could expalin to me what the loving test or who the lady is or idk anything besides I AM TESTING HIM HEHEHEHEHEHE im so coy gently caress u. It had been the same with every boyfriend she had YOU ALREADY SAID THIS U loving god drat. Nick was friends with her dead ex, maybe Nick even missed him. He’d certainly said he did to other people, acting like he cared. There were even tears.

“Do you miss him i mean part of my issue is that i dont know who Rob is so i dont know why they care?” She asked. “For real, not playing?” The controller fell from his hand. He laughed.

“I wouldn’t be downing half a bottle of gin if I didn’t miss him. If I wasn’t drinking your gin.”

He said, ‘your gin.’ Did he know? Had he finally got it? Her stomach flipped with giddiness. what is this stupid poo poo god drat stop being such a coy piece of poo poo

He stood and moved towards her, his feet not quite landing where he was trying to place them.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“I am drunk,” he said. “But just drunk. Even though you’ve mixed me one of your special drinks.” His words were long and slurred.

“I saw the photos. If that’s your kink, I can tell you mine.” He winked. uhhhhh is this him saying this because if so this shouldnt be a new paragraph because i read it as the girl's and if it the girl's, then the "he winked" needs to be in another paragraph so its wrong either way.

He raised his hand and pointed a finger at her. “I thought you were just good for cleaning, but a thing for death? Drugging me? I have to say—” I DONT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING YOU ARE SAYING. you are not being clever. you are being annoying. youre the person who says oh i have a secret and then i ask oh what is it and then you say oh im not gonna tell you thats this story its me constantly going please tell me what the gently caress is going on and youre no i cant. and i promise you, i PROMISE you, that whatever the reveal is, it wont be interesting or cool or redeem this story. its not even going to be a surprise because i know its coming.

“You found the pictures?” Sshe asked. you seem to have the issue of thinking that a punctuation mark makes the tag be capitalized. it does not. if you end with a question mark in dialogue and then go to a tag, the tag stays uncapitalized. treat the question mark as if it is a comma. He was happy, he must have thought he’d figured it out. how many times have you repeated this already?[/b] He was quick to anger at her, usually, but now it was like he’d spent the day beating his friends at some crappy fighting game fighting games are good how DARE you. He might have figured it out, but he’d still drunk the booze.

He dropped in front of the TV, an echo sounding in the small room as his butt slammed against the floorboards.

“Be careful!” Sshe said. same thing with exclamation marks, as well.

“You don’t want careful,” he said. He picked up the controller and leaned over to press the power button on the console. “You want a fake corpse to play with.” uhhhhhh huh

“You’ve read my diaries?” She asked.

He nodded, and smirked.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t want you scared. I can explain.” She would explain, if he asked.

“I didn’t know when you’d drug me,” he said. “But it makes sense it’d be Rob’s day.” He picked up his glass. It was his gaming glass, the one he had at the RPG sessions when he, 'bashed orcs,' with all those friends who barely even talked about Rob anymore; her second love; her second kill.

“What makes sense?” Sshe asked. Had he found her little hiding hole underneath the mound of shoes in her wardrobe? Or had he discovered her medicine stash? It was all written out for him to find. we know we know we know we know she wants him to find out get on w/ the drat story.

“Rob disappears, the man you were supposed to marry and you get some hosed up death kink going on in that tiny brain of yours.”

“That’s not what happened,” she said. She reached between the cushions as he took another sip from his glass.

“Looking for this?” He asked. He pulled out her knife. “I saw the photos you staged.” It was the knife she’d cut up her ex with, and yes, she’d photographed passed-out, drugged Nick with it for the past few years. goddamn this story is too loving long, too loving boring

“Or are you looking for this?” He held up a little bottle, the antidote to one of her muscle relaxants.

“Ok,” she said. She put her head in her hands. “Yes, I do have a thing for death. I can explain it. Ever since I—”

“And you couldn’t imagine what I have a thing for,” he said. He couldn’t even let her finish her admission. His head bobbed. oh god this is just turning more and more terrible

“Sex? We could have fun,” she said. She smiled. They could have fun, if he wanted that. She knew about his kinks. She’d even read his travelogues for the lands he imagined in those RPGs he played, prosaic writing, but fun. She’d travel with him, if he wanted to go with her.

He nodded. “Sex, sure. But you can just make me some tacos right now.” what the gently caress didnt he just find out she basically killed his best friend or something im so confused

“Now? We’re finally being open and you just want to be fed?” Hunger was a result of the drug mixture. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, what’s been running through my mind for years.”

“Since Rob died?” Hse asked. Since she was a teenager.

“You’re hosed up,” he said.this shouldnt be a new paragraph He laughed a coughing, guttural laugh, rolled over onto his stomach, and took up that same childlike position in front of the TV she’d always hated.

“This feels so good. You doing what I tell you from now on," he said. The euphoria had definitely kicked in. "Or you could leave me, of course?” im so loving lost i just i dont understand any of this dumb lovely boring nonsense

“You know I couldn’t do that,” she said. She had written that, it was one of her rules: what the gently caress does this mean why does she have rules is she some kind of dumb boring succubus or dumb poo poo like that gently caress youuuuuuuuuuuuu write about how much she loves them, how much she idolises them. She never wrote about how she killed her past loves when they doubted her.

“I know you’re hosed up,” he said. “I know you need someone to fix you. To tell you how to live.” ugh just shut up

“How we can both live. As a couple,” she said. “Equals.” can something HAPPEN in this story

“You can look after me,” he said. The controller fell from one hand, and his chin dropped against the floor.

“I will look after you,” she said. “Do you want the antidote?”

“I’ve found your antidote.” He lifted his head but it took effort. He was laughing, a small gurgling laugh as the saliva collected in his throat. He went to throw the bottle at her but it only rolled from his fingers. what the gently caress

“That’s not my antidote,” she said.

“No?” He was giggling as he lay face down on the floor.

She leaned over and put her ear close to his mouth. “I researched the drugs and bought my own cure,” what the gently caress is this drug what the gently caress is anything in this story he said. “You couldn’t even buy the right countermeasure.” His voice was barely audible.

He couldn’t even lift his head.

“I couldn’t trust you to get it right…” he said. “What if I overdosed?”

“No. You couldn’t trust me.” She said. He snatched at air, his chest barely moving.

“My drugs are all mislabelled,” she said. “You didn’t know what you were taking.”

He was gone. this is so dumb

She grabbed the medical vial he’d bought, the wrong medication and rested it next to the suicide note she’d prepared this is even dumber. They always doubted her. Maybe the next would learn? holy poo poo was this bad

revolther posted:

Dry noir detective prose or screenplay versions of other novels are the only form of acceptable writing.

The Saddest Rhino posted:

really how the hell is video game avatar shooty man slash fiction of them NOT EVEN HAVING SEX, JESUS CHRIST something from your heart, it might as well be the glowing pulsating red heart that pops up as the "SHOOT HERE PLEASE" at the very last stage of a video game and then you shoot it and then we get the credits sequence and i'm not sure where i'm getting into, but that pulsating red target video game heart doesn't even have a valve open to insert a boner so WHAT THE gently caress, MAN

Mrenda posted:

You show appreciation for someone's work and effort by letting them know it's had an effect on you. And their critiques did have an effect. What I said wasn't an offhand thanks for politeness, or for the sake of decorum. It was an attempt to show appreciation by me making an effort, albeit a small one in pointing out that their critiques had informed what I now take from the story with their help.

I held back on pointing out the specific aspects of their response that I'm hoping to address, because I'm not rewriting a story for their benefit (not that they'd want a second version of it,) nor was my post an effort to rewrite what I submitted after the fact. I was trying to go some way to show I appreciated what they said.

I know sometimes I feel a simple "thanks" is hollow, a formality rather than a real understanding and acknowledgement of someone's work for your benefit. I also know that a lot of the time it takes a lot of effort to say that simple, "thanks." But this was me going beyond what I know is typical for Thunderdome because I integrated what they said into my own writing. You can poo poo on me for trying to show appreciation, and engagement with what they said about my story but that's all I was trying to do: show appreciation by saying how their response effected me.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

I got you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWJFfnHNOWI

Chairchucker posted:

I feel like no one yet has mentioned what kind of judging is good judging.

(It's fast judging, btw)