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I'm a bit nervous because every time I touch this thread I lose, but I'm in.
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May 10, 2022 00:15
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Are we just doing brawls or is there a specific prompt? Or just the normal prompts?
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May 13, 2022 15:18
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Week 510 Entry Cradle 797 words Rainwater ran down the blown-out edge of the tiny dagger inked under Ben’s left eye. His clothes were soaked and the daily ritual of aimlessly wandering the worst parts of Tacoma looking for any place he would go unnoticed for the night felt like climbing a mountain. Frenchie had hopped a bus a few weeks back to San Fran, and Matt left yesterday after he said he called his mom and she wanted him back home. Now it was just Ben. The neighborhood looked abandoned. He crept into an alley between two houses, lowering himself against the siding. He tried to find a comfortable position for his head against the buckles and wet canvas of his bag. Embraced by wet earth, his eyes began to flutter closed. “Hey!” He was up and grabbing his bag before he really was aware, hurt-dog memory taking over, pushing toward the street on cramping legs. “Kid, wait!” Ben stopped. She sounded like his grandma. He turned, seeing she even looked like a grandma – grey hair, floral dress, wool sweater, glasses. She stood on the steps of her back porch, one hand stretched out and held low, a gesture of calm. Golden light from her kitchen radiated behind her. “Are you okay?” She couldn’t know it was a bullet, aimed at his vulnerable, secret hope. Hope that now flared in his heart, making his eyes sting. He looked back up the street, into the rain, the road stretching off into infinite darkness. The woman stepped off the porch, hand still raised. She asked again. “Are you okay?” Ben nodded this time, clutching his bag. He took a step forward; the woman remained motionless, waiting. Eventually they were just a few feet apart. She looked him up and down. “Do you want to come in? Just for a bit?” ---- He stood dripping water all over her floor. The kitchen was plain, with laminate counters and appliances from the 80s, but the familial setting felt alien to him. He wasn’t sure where to put his hands, and he grimaced when she had left him alone in the room. Her name was Pam, and she had asked a few questions, got his name, but didn’t seem put off when he clammed up after that. He stared the photographs on the wall, where Pam stood smiling next to a progressively older boy. A few minutes later she returned, handing him a towel. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, and if you go into the bedroom on the left, you’ll find some clothes after you shower.” She spoke in the urging, no-nonsense tones of a mom. The shower was a rebirth. He cocooned himself in purifying steam, enjoying the clean smells of soap and shampoo and watching months of filth wash down the drain. In the bedroom, he found worn flannel pajama pants and a faded blue t-shirt with the Mariners logo. The feel of clean clothes on scrubbed skin made him wonder if he might be dreaming. ---- The living room was dark except for the glow from a robust fire. Pam was in a recliner, eyes closed, gently rocking. Ben sat on the couch, eying a plate of cheese and crackers accompanied by a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. The couch was the kind with deep cushions. The temptation to roll to his side and sleep was overwhelming. “Go on. It’ll get cold.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes. The mug looked like it was made by a child, simple crockery with a hand-painted tulip. He sipped, listening to the flames’ low crackle. “Is that your son in the pictures?” He waited what felt like minutes, wondering if maybe it was a mistake to ask. Pam opened her eyes then, meeting Ben’s. The lines in her face looked deep in the firelight. “Yes. His name was Peter. He went to Afghanistan.” There was no need for more. Ben continued to eat until the food was gone. The evening passed in silence. The awkwardness he felt in Pam’s kitchen melted away. His head found the pillow and he watched Pam continue to rock, warm as he could remember. “Ben? Do you want to talk? About why you’re out here?” “No.” It was perhaps too soon, too familiar, risking too much, but she couldn’t stop herself. “May I give you a hug?” Ben sat up, his face flushed, his chest buzzing. She sat forward and opened her arms, face drawn tight with her need, a need they shared. He rose from the couch, letting his hope carry him away. Folding his gangly teenage frame into Pam’s lap, he pressed his face into the soft wool of her shoulder. Pam hugged him close. “Oh, my boy,” she murmured, “my boy.”
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May 13, 2022 15:55
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Chili posted:You looking for trouble, friend? Cos if you're looking, look no further. I will get mad for no reason and talk as much crap about you, myself, anyone or anything if need be. I'll baby shoes for sale never worn your rear end don't be too mean im a bit sensitive
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May 13, 2022 16:13
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The man called M posted:Alright, you want a brawl prompt? Fine. I’m gonna give you two two random tropes from TV Tropes. Both of them must be used. (How they are used is up to you.) 
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May 13, 2022 17:34
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Really looking forward how to express the cushion thing in text. 
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May 13, 2022 22:51
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Did I not post an in?
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May 17, 2022 05:55
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Ugh peer pressure In
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May 18, 2022 20:39
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A crit (please keep in mind I'm probably not very good at this yet, but practice makes perfect)Bad Seafood posted:Slow Days (762 words) Things I liked: - I think you did a great job capturing the feel of a small shop somewhere, especially with the close of the story. I have had that moment of ducking into a tea shop out of the rain and you've nailed the aesthetic and cozy feel. - Despite the fact that one of your characters was a talking cat, the magic of your story was downplayed in service of the cozy aspects. It really is a story about a shop, with the magic adding enough whimsy (but not too much) to make it feel almost like a connection to that childhood wonder, which in turn made me feel that much more cozy. As a child, getting taken into a shop for a hot chocolate and a pastry out of the rain was just about the coziest thing I could imagine. Things I didn't like as much: - The cat feels over-written. I get that he is supposed to be the prim and proper side of this odd couple, but his repetition of "Miss Clover" with every line became grating and blocked the flow of the dialogue. I think you could take out the Miss Clovers (or keep just the first one) and still retain the professionalism you wanted for Hammond. - Some of the details (see below) felt crammed in, like you were adding detail to world-build when in reality I don't think your story needs it. I am on board with the traveling cafe - I don't need to know everything. The details pulled me away from the cozy feel a bit. quote:
"summer golden hive" was a bit awkward here - summer or golden, but not both. Your prose has a nice cozy cafe flow to it and sometimes the extra word or two broke that up for me. quote:It was a few minutes before Clover joined him, adjusting her apron as she set down the stairs. Her eyes remained on half-lidded vigil. Her hair was a mess, but she was awake. I'm not sure I get this. It's like I'm missing some obvious thing as to why this is funny or cute. How is she asymmetric? Is Hammond merely commenting on her messy presentation, or something else? quote:Satisfied, finally, with the state of her strings, Clover looked out from the storefront window. They were indeed in the middle of the woods, with a single dirt path flowing just past the door. You did a good job with Clover. The understatement and simplicity of her dialogue makes her really easy to picture as a cozy cafe owner. quote:Munching on some toast, she went about her duties, setting up shop like any other day. The cafe picked the venues, without their input. Hammond had the kitchen. The front room was hers. Having tended to the kettles, each set to boil, she dusted the tables, adjusted the chairs. The sound of the rain on the glass kept her languid, a hum on her lips, her own invention. She grabbed the broom and began to sweep. The floorboards creaked softly with every step. quote:Her chores completed, Clover returned to the counter, where she kept a radio next to the cash register. Taking a minute to find the right station, wordless melodies soon filled the space, joined soon after by the smell of fresh pastries, left overnight to rise in the oven. Overall I think it's A+ cozy. Clover and Hammond have their unique voice and the warmth and life of the cafe are evident. I really liked this one which is why I wanted to give it a crit! 
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May 20, 2022 15:03
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Wilco Week Entry Inspiration: I listened to the whole album despite a very visceral reaction to the first song. It is not my cup of tea, to say the least. I then spent some time reading the lyrics to see if anything caught me. I initially wanted to write a really scathing piece from the point of view of the object of affection in "Hate It Here", some commentary on how whiny and needy the singer was for that track. But when I read the lyrics, I was struck by a sense of loss, something that went beyond a breakup. I pictured someone asking the questions from a place of grief. Combined with the album art, where I pictured seabirds chasing each other through the dull skies of a west coast winter, this is what I came up with. Driftwood 750 words The mist shrouds our son as he walks the beach, picking wood for your collection under a cloud of sandpipers that swarm the sunless sky. Nature must have painted this morning gloom for you, knowing your preferences. I can see you on the sand with your well-loved paperback and a thermos of tea. Nate sent in his applications this week. His face is yours, your suppressed smile superimposed on his, excitement bubbling up despite his best efforts. When he asked afterward if we could visit your grave, I imagined it was penance for feeling something that wasn’t grief. I wanted to tell him it’s okay to be hopeful and nervous and all the other feelings fit for a boy (a man) like him, that it’s what you would have wanted, but I didn’t. I just nodded. Today I sit on the log by the end of our path to the beach. I run my palm on the wood of your seat, worn in a testament to years of watching sunsets falling across the rolling waves. The smoothness of the grain is repellent, mocking the empty space between us. Later, Nate hands me a curled piece of driftwood and asks “Do you think she’ll like it?” I take it from him, running my hands over the tide-washed surface. “Of course she will.” We walk back to the house with its extra bedrooms, purchased with grandchildren in mind. Nate goes up to his room and stretches out on his too-small bed, texting on his phone. He’s smoking cigarettes now; I found a half-full pack in the bathroom trash. I haven’t figured out how we’re going to talk to him about it. How I’m going to talk about it. I cook our breakfast, listening to the lapping of waves I used to find calming, and bang down sauté pans with extra force. --- We eat in silence, because when I ask about his plans, I receive those grunts that you said ignored twenty centuries of human evolution. I would chuckle and we’d share exaggerated eyerolls at his expense. Today he and I stare into our eggs. When he leaves the house, I feel the current of our lives pulling me back. He leaves me behind, carried onward to open water. For the rest of the morning, I plot out road trips to the various colleges. I catch myself daydreaming about where he’ll go, what he’ll major in. What I’ll fill my own life with when you’re both gone. Maybe I’ll build a new deck in the summer, or buy a project car. Then I realize what I’m doing, and yank my own hair, pain to bring me back to you. You’d tell me that was a stupid thing to do, but you’re not here to say it. --- I wash the dishes, my own penance. The kitchen follows, my cracked hands grinding sponge into grout. I do the laundry, the shopping, the endless cycle of living. The short December days last too long and the steely spaces of the night in which I find myself adrift are longer still. Our son comes home after I’m in bed. I get up and stand in our bedroom doorway, listening to him brush his teeth. My foot lifts to cross the threshold, but I hold still, breathless. In my mind we sit for a few hours and talk, drawing out his own dreams. I use the time to tell him how much you loved him, and that I love him, and how excited we were to watch him soar. How I’m still excited. We embrace, and some of the ocean between us grows smaller. In reality I wait until he is safely back in his room. I climb back into cold sheets. I am doomed to petrify on this sand, the salt of the air etching my hardened skin. --- The next day, we go to leave his beach finds at your grave. In the car I ask Nate if he wouldn’t mind hanging out, watching a movie, but he says he’s meeting some friends. When we get home, I lay a hand on his shoulder and tell him that I’m proud of him, and to take care of himself when he’s out. He gives me a hug, and drives off. I watch the gulls chase pipers through the sky. The light dies in its winter way, gray to charcoal to black. I find myself wishing I was driftwood, so that I might someday float to your distant shore.
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May 22, 2022 05:39
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TD Week 512: Let the Bad Guy Win One, For Once Because I've never let my 14-year-old edgy core go, there are countless movies and books I consume where, after they're over, I say out loud like an idiot "Would've been better if the villain won". Now the unfortunate part is that typically, the bad guy winning is never done well. It's too edgy, too over-the-top, etc. That said, there are some really great stories out there where the heroes lose in some fashion. No Country For Old Men (book or movie), the book Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots, The Usual Suspects, all are good examples where the baddie winning is tangential to a good story, well-written characters and dialogue, and consistency in tone. So, for this week, I want stories where the villain wins. That is literally the only criterion. You set your story wherever and whenever you like, the stakes as high or as low as you like, etc. Maybe the evil photography teacher crushes some poor kid's spirit. Maybe the evil corporate jagoff wins the ski competition. Maybe your world-conquering alien race manages to subjugate those humans and Randy Quaid doesn't fly his plane into their laser beam apparatus. The story doesn't have to have gravitas, or be an action/drama/etc. It can be funny, sad, whatever you'd like. Please no erotica or fanfic. Word limit: 1000 Signup deadline is Midnight Eastern on Friday May 27 Submission deadline 8AM Eastern on Monday, May 30 *to allow for those on Pacific time zones a little leeway* Judging to be entered that same day.  Flash Rule! If you'd like some Inner Guidance for your story, I will draw you a tarot card from the Major Arcana that will be used as the theme for your story. Judges: SephiRoth IRA Chili Bad People: derp - Temperance crimea - Wheel of Fortune Chernobyl Princess - The Fool The Cut of Your Jib - The Devil Tars Tarkas - Death Tyrannosaurus - The Hermit Thranguy - The Emperor Sparksbloom - Judgement Albatrossy_Rodent - The Moon The man Called M - The Hanged Man Nae - The Tower BabyRyoga - Justice Ceighk - The Chariot sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 15:22 on May 25, 2022 |
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May 23, 2022 20:09
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derp posted:in, gimme a card Your Inner Guide Speaks:  TEMPERANCE Temperance! Associated with fire, Jupiter, Temperance takes the form of an angel, neither masculine or feminine (or perhaps both). Temperance tells us to embrace balance. Focus on patience, purpose, and moderation. sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 21:19 on May 23, 2022 |
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May 23, 2022 20:59
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crimea posted:In, tarot me. Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE The Wheel! A positive draw, associated with fire, the Wheel suggests the hand of chance or Destiny herself is affecting the life of the querent. Luck, opportunity, or just plain old throwing up a win is on the horizon.
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May 23, 2022 21:27
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Chernobyl Princess posted:In, card me Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE FOOL Long maligned as a card representative of idiocy or naiveté, The Fool is actually a card of new beginnings. What some see as naiveté, The Fool tells you is innocence and being in possession of a free spirit. We see the Fool as a young man, casting off care, taking the first step into the unknown. sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 21:33 on May 23, 2022 |
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May 23, 2022 21:27
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The Cut of Your Jib posted:ty derpjudge I only have the one set, unfortunately, but you did get an exciting one! Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE DEVIL Embrace your shadow self, wrapped in the chains of The Devil. The Horned One sits in dominion over two bound humans, and represents negative attachments, restriction. In a better light one could see the reflection of The Lovers, but here, under the gaze of the Devil, you might find addiction, carnal indulgence, and other things that might hold you back from your best self.
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May 23, 2022 21:49
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Tars Tarkas posted:In and deal me a card! Another unfairly maligned card! Your Inner Guide Speaks:  DEATH Unlike the movies, the appearance of Death here for you does not foretell the immediacy of your demise. Instead, with his flag of a five-petaled flower, Death is an avatar of transition. It tells you of endings, of change, of transformation. Death, like change, is immortal and invites you to embrace the transitions that await.
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May 23, 2022 22:02
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Tyrannosaurus posted:Tarot me the gently caress up Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE HERMIT An old man, carrying a staff, The Hermit is associated with earth, and the planet Mercury. The Hermit carries a lantern, the light of introspection, of study, and suggests you meditate on your path forward. Seek solitude and search your soul.
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May 23, 2022 22:20
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Thranguy posted:In with card Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE EMPEROR The Emperor is a symbol of control, regulation, and authority. He sits upon his throne adorned with ram skulls and holding aloft his scepter. The Emperor is the father figure of the deck, and asks us whether it is us who are taking the mantle of provider, or whether we should look outward for a figure of power or status that demands our respect.
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May 23, 2022 23:12
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sparksbloom posted:in and card please Your Inner Guide Speaks:  JUDGEMENT Judgement, another depiction of an angel, represents judgement, of course, but also is an indicator of rebirth, an inner calling, a time of absolution. The angel on the card blows a trumpet, calling men, women, and children to rise up from their graves. Rise up, and embrace a calling to your best self, your highest good. This is a card of spiritual awakening.
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May 23, 2022 23:24
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Albatrossy_Rodent posted:In, card. Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE MOON In the moonlight, the shadows twist and turn. The Moon hangs low over the earth, her face positioned between two towers. Wild wolves howl and a watery crustacean emerges from a dappled pool. The Moon is a card of intuition, of illusion, of dreams and the subconscious. It asks you to question your fears and anxieties and how they be affecting you.
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May 24, 2022 03:45
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The man called M posted:Got a bit of an idea. In. Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE HANGED MAN The Hanged Man, despite being upside down and bound, seems calm and serene. The man asks us to view the world from a different perspective. The twelfth card of the major arcana represents pause, being suspended in time, but might also suggest one lets go. The halo around his head indicates enlightenment, and knowing a situation requires sacrifice.
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May 24, 2022 04:10
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Nae posted:In, gimme da cards. Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE TOWER Calamity! The Tower is shown atop a mountain, sundered by lightning. Two people leap toward the ground, aflame. A crown is toppled. Beware upheaval and chaos. Not all is lost, however- the 22 tiny flames spread across the scene represent the divine, suggesting that hand of the universe may yet reach out to help you.
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May 24, 2022 12:05
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BabyRyoga posted:In, and I will take a card Your Inner Guide Speaks:  JUSTICE Justice sits before you, sharp sword of logic in one hand, scales of balance in the other. We see Justice as the natural form of order, balance, truth, and fairness. You are called by Justice to account for your actions, and whether they served the greatest good. Alternatively, if you seek Justice, this card might be a positive sign for you.
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May 24, 2022 12:11
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Ceighk posted:In & card me Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE CHARIOT The Chariot is a card of progress, willpower, and determination. A prince or warrior sits staring resolutely forward, crowned with a star and laurel, steering the Chariot not with reins but the power of his mind. The Chariot pushes us to action, and the promise of success.
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May 25, 2022 15:20
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Hawklad posted:In, and I would like a card. Your Inner Guide Speaks:  THE SUN Brilliant, beautiful, The Sun shines over a field of abundance. A happy child rides atop a calm steed. This is a card of warmth, of positivity, of vitality! The Sun tells you that radiant energy will follow you wherever you go, and encourages you to share that with everyone you meet.
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May 26, 2022 14:34
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Sign ups closed. Can't wait to read all about your Anton Chigurh wannabes If I missed your card PM me!
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May 28, 2022 06:22
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Subs closed
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May 30, 2022 13:07
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Week 512: Let the Bad Guy Win, for Once JUDGEMENT https://twitter.com/boring_as_heck/status/604761050857095168?s=20&t=T9UXT-Llh46Y80D7MmfMtA If the bad guy was was a ton of stories and the hero was me judging in a coherent and organized manner, the villain won for sure. Thank you everyone for your entertaining tales of villains, or sometimes just evil, or sometimes something else entirely, winning the day. I'm a bad news kind of dude so first, we have our loss for the week: The man called M, with 8th and Main: A Jake Malone story. Chinatown was not built in a day, my friend. A DM goes to derp, with while he was sleeping for bumming us the hell out. Now the good news (ugh) an HM goes to Albatrossy_Rodent with Dreams Come True because the "gently caress THIS guy in particular" vibes were strong an HM goes to Nae with No One Can Stop Me for having imo the clearest villain among the bunch. It was like I was reading wheel of time all over again! the winner of this week is Hawklad with The Formicarium!  Excellent work leveraging childhood trauma to put up a WThank you all for putting up with tarot flash rules and a wide open prompt. Let's give a round of applause to Hawklad! Crits to follow
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May 31, 2022 02:25
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Crits - lemme know if you'd like something more fleshed out Sparkbloom - Sitting in a Tree I liked the weirdness of this one. It gave me flashbacks to that Final Fantasy movie a long time ago (must be like 20 years+?). Really great build up of dread, and I enjoyed your interpretation of Judgment into multiple layers - Holly’s judgment of Claire’s intentions to leave, the idea of rebirth and Holly’s new form, although I think I would not agree that she was acting as her best self. Overall I think there were some limitations in terms of how much development your characters received. The story moved fast, and the time from setup to climax didn’t give me enough time to appreciate a true villain/hero pairing. I think if you had expanded on how much time Claire has spent dealing with Holly, it might have strengthened your buildup into the climax. I couldn’t get a good sense of the timeline. There was also one or two typos. “unlucky enough to take trap to the chest” Ceighk - Our Lady of Truth The Chariot definitely felt present here, in that your story drove it’s hero forward at a breakneck pace. Really effective use of dropping the reader into the same situation your novice was in, where we were put on the back foot and really couldn’t see where the story was going until it was there. Your villain/hero play was subtle and I liked it. The idea of the novice railroaded into knowledge (and with it success in the order, from what it sounds like, although possibly unwilling) was a fun one. Your story was held back a little bit by some clunky phrasing in places. Some of the word choices, like “Father Cestus is going to beam” were awkward enough to take me out of the story a bit. derp - while he was sleeping A morality play that takes into account both our love of destroying Earth’s resources and police brutality. For me, this one was a little too one note - by the end of it, I had got the message several times over. While Thereza was an angel (and thus probably singular with purpose), it was hard for me to connect with her as a character as opposed to plot device. Similar to the unnamed humans. Your use of temperance was interesting. You used the card literally, featuring an angel, and then used the opposite of what the card meant for your theme, although Thereza did show a great amount of temperance in her approach to the broken world. Overall I like the idea, but I’m not sure I liked the execution. Chernobyl Princess - Red Flags This was pretty funny. Not necessarily the story itself, that was actually super depressing, but I read a ton of the relationships thread here on SA and this was just one of those repacked as a fun little “OP doubles down on her bad decisions” story. Jack, despite not being on screen, was a real scumbag and seeing him win bummed me out. The little snapshots felt real, with Kim and Corey having unique voices. That said it would have been nice to focus down on Corey’s relationship with Jack a bit more. The Fool was also incorporated, although while it’s meant to be a card of winning naivete, here it was more literally someone who was too naive to see the red flags. I did not like the line “And don’t be afraid to call me if anything happens!” - it read very flippant for me compared to the rest of that section, with the planning and canceling of credit cards. Hawklad - The Formicarium I enjoyed this one. You have to appreciate multiple levels of villains winning. You did a great job in making me want to root for Marcus and then making me realize, oh, wait, he’s a piece of poo poo, that’s not cool at all. The Very Large Solar Array with the sun laser was a little silly, and some of the tone doesn’t play quite as well. The end paragraph, with the little girl getting fried, felt much darker and violent compared to the overall story of what is essentially a death ray. But overall well-written and entertaining. Obviously your use of the Sun was there, although less the metaphysical meaning of the card as opposed to literally the Sun. Definitely no happiness or joy - even Mark seemed to feel a little bad at the collateral damage. Albatrossy_Rodent - Dream Come True Your unnamed villain was fun to hate. I think what I liked best was the fact that they even liked Nate, but were doing what they had to in order to enrich their own life, and Nate was just collateral damage. There were some issues for me in terms of understanding the “reality is a dream” bit and why Nate said what he said - even if he was dreaming, if he’s screaming slurs he’s probably not a good person. But it’s less of a big deal in terms of the story getting across. It was really funny to see one guy in particular, a nobody, get screwed for no reason. The shadow work of the Moon was here for sure. Messing with dreams was a fun way to go about the multiple layers of meaning. Nae - No One Can Stop Me Set (Eric), your tortured villain, was fun and I enjoyed reading from his perspective. The story was a bit cliche, but I think you did a good job trying to establish your characters’ motivations without leaning too heavily on expository dialogue or prose. The dialogue was a bit stilted in places, which held your story back from the top runners, as did some of your nomenclature. “Final Fires” makes me think of Final Fantasy for some reason and did not seem appropriate for a world-ending cataclysm. I liked your fight choreography. It was snappy and served itself and the story well. The last line is a bit hokey. Good use of the Tower, both literal and metaphorical. The man called M - 8th and Main: A Jake Malone story. Clearly Jake didn’t actually listen to Peace Sells, because that particular lyric (AND THE ALBUM) ends in “but who’s buying?” You definitely were writing for the sacrifice portion of the Hanged Man, but I would argue that Jake was not really making a willing sacrifice, but rather was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The story was too big to tell in 1000w, and because of that everything suffers. The pace of the story is too fast (the turn from meeting Jackie, to the reveal, to her death) and all the little details are cliche or underdeveloped. The dialogue is a bit rough and clipped, but I think that’s a product of the compressed nature of the story. I didn’t particularly like your characterization of Jackie. It felt cruel, and objectifying. Tyrannosaurus - Ninkyō Dantai The first half of the story was really compelling, but the back half fell a little flat, starting with your protag taking the cigarette. I feel like if he was brimming with rage, he wouldn’t have taken it. Overall the story seemed to end too early, like the ending itself was rushed. I didn’t get some of the closure I needed or wanted. Little Priest was a fun character, however, and well written. I see your use of the Hermit in the Buddhist temple setting, but some of the themes (solitude, study) were missing from the story itself. It would have been nice to see a bit more development of the hurt you mentioned the protag feeling when he quit. A couple typos were present. Tars Tarkas - Welcome To The Eternal Empire I enjoyed the fantastical setting, and while it seems the Undying One is your villain, the slow build to the Free Splendor worked well. It’s hard to say that villain truly won, since Bill got in his final blow, but otherwise I think you achieved the goal. The final paragraph held the rest of the story back. As vignettes, everything worked mostly well but the last one wasn’t as effective. I didn’t know if I believed Bill could try to stab the son of the king, nor did I like the casual way Bill treated his wife’s death. Could be written off to the horrors of war, but I did not like it. Overall this would be better as a fleshed out story vs vignettes. Great use of the Death card. Thranguy - The Caesar of Port Galveston I don’t know if I get it. The story really flew over my head. There’s a nuke, and a missing mom, and I guess they’re connected and there’s a conspiracy? For me, there’s no clear hero or villain in this story. The plot is too scant for me to grab hold of anything concrete. It’s hard to say whether the Emperor was used or not. I think this one needs some additional fleshing out. The Cut of Your Jib - Masques Off Once I made it through the prose, this was a fun back-and-forth between two assholes. I think the setting serves the characters and plot well. The language was fine, although in some places it was a little over the top. It definitely reads as a send-up of Shakespeare. “[pursued by a bear]” was a little over-clever. Overall I’m not sure how I like the play format. In one way it lines up well with your subject, but on the other I’m not sure it is as effective as if you had written it as prose. It was also hard to find your character’s unique voices because of the play setting and limited word count. Fine use of the Devil, as these two knaves very likely loved the excess. BabyRyoga - Justice is Eyeless This was a little over-the-top, and reads like a mishmash fanfic of King and other horror writers (Laird Barron comes to mind). The pacing of your paragraphs was hit and miss, with some being too long and crammed with detail such that I had a hard time reading through and needed to go back to re-read. The plot was fine, although the title was a bit on the nose. The play between hero and villain was absent here. This is less a story about a villain than a family curse. Because of this the story suffers and it was hard to say that you met the prompt. While you did incorporate justice, its use was indirect and a little clumsy. sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 02:47 on May 31, 2022 |
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May 31, 2022 02:44
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In Also down for a 500w flash brawl
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May 31, 2022 16:58
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YOULL BLEED IN THE STREETS
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May 31, 2022 17:12
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derp posted:
 same here
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May 31, 2022 17:36
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Chili / Sephiroth Brawl TV Tropes - Fair Play Villain and Novelization Rainbow Puppy Universe 2: Return to the Sugar System 1249 words The gun rested close to Barb’s non-cigarette hand. It was long-barreled, chrome, and bigger than Nancy would have expected for a withered shrew like Barb. She could see the glint of bullets in the chambers when Barb waved it around. Nancy now sat frozen, the uncomfortable barstool nagging at her rear end, and her face still stung from the slap Barb gave her when she walked through the door. She waited for Barb to say something, but the shrew just chain-smoked, glaring at Nancy. --- There used to be nine in their little group. The FunStar Animation Company had pared down the competition over the years, mostly by denying contracts. Funstar put out about 30 movies a year, and if you got passed up for everything it was the company’s way of telling you to screw off. Nancy had been lucky to get in at all; some FunStar VP’s kid loved her Magic Mice series, and reached out to have Nancy write the novelization for one of their less popular releases, Candy Bear Kingdom 4. Her book sold more than any of the previous novelizations of the Candy Bear Kingdom movies, and it paid more than any of her Magic Mice advances. The selection committee were so pleased with the returns she quickly rose to internal stardom. Nancy was pleased with the wheelbarrow of cash she rolled home. It was a match made in heaven. At her first communal pitch meeting, however, the reception was frostier. One fat man wearing a “Hoes Love This Dick” t-shirt muttered “gently caress you” under his breath when Nancy walked in. The meeting was brutal. The margin for creativity for this garbage was slim and thus most of the ideas were the same. In the end, Nancy couldn’t tell if it was just a popularity contest or if there was some rubric the selection committee had but refused to verbalize. “Get out the kneepads” was one of the less lurid suggestions for success from her fellow authors. And the other authors! Jesus, if they weren’t hate-loving each other (cheating on their spouses in the process) then they were physically punching each other across the mahogany office table. Between the original nine there were eight divorces, six DUIs, and two assaults. Nancy stayed out of it, trying to bring her best ideas and land enough contracts to keep her Manhattan loft. Now they were down to four, with the poor bastards that weren’t cut out by the committee run off by threats of violence or worse from the other authors. Penelope, the last departure, told Nancy over the phone that Barb, easily the worst of the bunch, actually threatened to have Penelope raped if she didn’t drop one of her pitches. “She said she knew men who would do it for fun!” Penelope was crying, although Nancy didn’t believe Barb had it in her. “She said they’d use me like the whore I am and then throw me in the Hudson!” --- FunStar had released Rainbow Puppy Universe 2: Return to the Sugar System two weeks prior to fan acclaim. The movie had made nearly half-a-loving-billion dollars since its release. The toys would earn more. When the pitch meeting finally came, with Nancy, Barb, Ted, and Sarah meeting at the familiar sweat-soaked table, the tension filled the room like sewage, making them all afraid to breathe. Nancy scanned her competition as they all waited for the selection committee to arrive. Ted was a dumpy ex-CPA dad who didn’t have the chops for something like this, relegated to dregs like Pony Queens or that Super Starfish crap. Sarah was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, muttering to herself. Nancy was pretty sure Barb had been getting to Sarah, but in the end, it wasn’t her problem. This contract would be worth a million bucks, easy, and while Nancy wouldn’t stoop quite as low as Barb, she didn’t care about Sarah. It was just too much goddamned money. The pitch meeting started predictably, with the committee grinning as they laid out the chum. “So, who’s got an idea for Rainbow Puppy Universe?” She felt Barb lash a kick into Ted’s knee as he began to open his mouth, and Barb used the dead air to launch into her pitch. It followed the plot of the movie closely, but had enough twists and turns to keep the committee hooked. Sarah just cradled herself. Nancy waited for Barb to run out of gas, searching the suits’ faces for signs of an opening. The opening came when she saw one of the suits check his watch. Nancy cut Barb off mid-sentence. Barb’s mouth hung open, and Nancy made the pitch of her life. She pushed as close to edge of the movie’s insipid plot as she could while pulling out all of her literary tricks. When finally stopped, it was obvious she had killed it based on the shared looks of greed between the committee members. Barb just glowered. --- “You really are a bitch.” Barb croaked like a toad, years of cheap booze and unfiltered cigarettes laying waste to her favorite instrument. “I never liked you.” Nancy didn’t answer, muscles pulled taut to keep her motionless on the stool. Barb shook her head, continuing to smoke. “You know why I never liked you?” Barb let the rhetorical question hang in the air. When Nancy couldn’t stand it anymore, she shook her head. “No.” “I never like you because you didn’t earn it, like the rest of us did. Do you know how much candy-coated poo poo I had to write in windowless boxes to get here? They paid me pennies! And here you are, waltzing in like some uppity kiddy book bitch, taking the prime cuts.” She took a long drag, and then butted the cigarette directly onto the bar. She picked up the gun. “You know why I called you here, to my ex-husband’s piece of poo poo bar?” Barb stood and stepped over to Nancy, shoving the gun into her face. “I was going to shoot you with this gun. I was going to make you beg your best Columbia-educated, liberal bitch begging and then I was going to do it.” Nancy held her breath. Barb’s gun hand started to shake. Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, gently caress it.” Barb wilted, and tossed the gun onto the bar. She collapsed onto one of the stools, face in her hands, and started to cry. What in the gently caress? Nancy blew a slow breath out, eyes wide as Barb continued to sob. “B… Barb? Are you ok?” Barb looked up. “No, I’m not okay. I can barely pay my mortgage, I’m paying taxes on this dive thanks to the divorce, and now I’m going to lose the drat contract.” Barb looked up and flashed Nancy a tight smile. “You know what’s the worst of it? You are loving amazing at this. I loved Magic Mice. I love your Rainbow Puppies pitch! Those goddamned suits bring out their knives to winnow our creativity to death, and still you come up with something truly adorable, genuine, and it’s all your own. I hate you for it.” Nancy’s eyes flicked to the gun. Barb noticed, looked at the gun, and then laughed. “Oh, get over yourself. I’m not going to shoot you.” Barb waved towards the front door. Nancy rose, unsteady, and made for the exit. “Hey, Nancy.” Nancy turned slowly back. Barb held the gun again, low against her side. “See you tomorrow.”
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Jun 1, 2022 01:04
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Hello all, just wanted to post that my brawl story has a trigger warning: there is a threat of sexual assault against a woman by another woman Please be warned ahead if you believe that would be triggering for you.
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Jun 1, 2022 03:50
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Yes, blood for the TD gods! I will judge your Rodent/Nae brawl. Your word limit is 550, your deadline is Wednesday, June 8, and your prompt is that your story must feature a camping trip.
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Jun 1, 2022 19:53
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derpiroth brawl - prompt: mystery Lost and Found 499 words The three boys stared down into the quarry. Sunlight scorched the rocks, bouncing waves of shimmering heat off the white limestone. Eddie wiped sweat from his face with a dirty forearm. He glanced from the dirt road behind them to the light dancing on the glass surrounding the destroyed car below. “I can’t believe we loving found it.” Jimmy had been peppering every other sentence with the f-word lately. Eddie and Bill thought it was a bit annoying, and immature, but Jimmy was the oldest—by six months—so they just rolled with it. Here, though, it felt appropriate. The car was the LeBaron of Tammy Tucker, girlfriend of notorious bank robber Tyler Tucker. Legend had it that Tammy had sped away in the LeBaron with the cash (and without Tyler) just as police were descending on their motel room. The boys had spent the summer researching the case, and were convinced the rumors were true: Tammy had gotten lost out on the country roads and crashed somewhere, never to be seen again. Twenty years ago, everyone searched for weeks but found nothing. “Let’s climb down. It’ll take hours to walk around to the entrance.” Jimmy turned back to the other boys, grinning. “I bet there’s a million loving bucks down there! We’ll get all the girls!” Eddie rolled his eyes when he was sure Jimmy wasn’t looking. First, the climb looked impossibly dangerous. Second, Eddie figured if this was Tammy’s car AND she escaped with the cash AND no one else had found the wreck, MAYBE there would be a few thousand dollars. He was also skeptical about any of their chances with the girls at Edgemont Junior High. But Eddie and Bill had been following Jimmy’s lead this far, so when they watched him throw a sneaker over the lip of the limestone slab, Bill shrugged his shoulders at Eddie and they followed. --- Eddie was the last to hit the bottom. He caught sight of the LeBaron logo on the car and was about to shout when he noticed that Jimmy and Bill stood motionless, staring through the shattered driver’s window. When Eddie joined them, he saw the bones. The sun continued to shine, hot and smothering. There were no sounds of nature, no animals or even wind, barely even the sound of their breath. No one dared to mention the faded black duffel next to Tammy’s remains. The spell was broken by someone’s foot skittering over broken glass. Bill crept around to the other side and slid the duffel through the window. He grimaced when it caught against the door, looking like a grave robber afraid of angry spirits. Bringing it back to the others, Bill set it down away from the wreck where he could kneel. Jimmy and Eddie knelt beside him. Eddie was holding his breath. Jimmy set a hand on each of their shoulders, his face a mask of awe. Bill looked at them for a moment, grabbed the zipper, and pulled.
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Jun 3, 2022 16:57
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Gods of the Southern Sea 1200 words Hai was dreaming. Sunlight had played across the waves of the South China Sea while she clutched the weathered hand of her grandfather. Together they watched the whales surface around his fishing boat, bodies close enough to almost touch. The salt air was sharp and the spray of water so cold… At the system's prompt, she was awake. She sent a prayer of thanks for the memory–I love you, Grandfather–and disconnected. The internal status told Hai it had been 20 years since the system last accessed her. It had felt like an instant. She moved her servos gently, expecting resistance after disuse, but the robotic curators had kept her chassis well maintained. It had taken hundreds of years to mourn the loss of her humanity, but after four millennia she learned to find small comforts in their care. There were no lights in her storage locker or the halls, but there would be in the lab for pictures. Hai wasn’t sure why they took pictures of the specimens that were brought in; there were no eyes to see them. Priyanka was already there, standing before a shrouded form on the autopsy table. Hai broadcast her shock on the local communication network. >Priya, my god! It's been so long! Priyanka’s lithe form inclined its head. It had been a miracle, meeting Priyanka here, after the end of it all. The shy, small Indian girl she knew from her time at Oxford now stood six feet tall and had traded her brown skin for steel and her timidity for rebuilt confidence. Hai had the steel, but felt she was still the same Hai from before. >Hai, my friend! How strange to see you! Such a pleasant surprise. >When was the last time we saw each other? The shark, right? >Yes, that shark! I couldn’t believe it when I opened its stomach. Two people, still undigested! That must have been thousands of years ago! Hai thought. She met her friend at the table. >So what is this? >I’m not sure. I was roused only minutes before you were. -- Towards the end of humanity's resistance the apex humans, those that had excelled beyond all others in their respective specialties, were called upon by the machines. The superintelligence was smart enough to recognize that while it outstripped most of their abilities, creativity and randomness remained human strengths. An individual’s humanity could thus be an asset in solving complex problems. Hai had been a uniquely gifted surgeon. She remembered vividly the day the drone had arrived at the internment camp, offering amnesty to her alone. It was easy for her that day to imagine similar scenes happening around the world for hundreds of people, perhaps a few thousand at most. All were invited to shed their flesh and become tools for the new gods, if they were brave enough. -- Hai picked up a scalpel, slowly moving it back and forth. Her finesse was better than it had been with her human hands, but it didn't feel right to her. The movements lacked rhythm. The last time they were paired, Priyanka had argued with Hai about the nature of their new existence. Unlike Hai, she welcomed the changes to her body and mind. Priyanka's message broke through Hai's thoughts. >So, when did you last wake? I was up about sixty years back. They probably don’t need me as much as you! Hai looked up. Priyanka, competing to the last, she thought. >Oh, it hardly matters. The needle doesn't count its stitches. Besides, this case is bound to be interesting, at least! >Yes, I am a bit excited! Not just another fish to catalog… There were many pairings that were woken simultaneously. All disciplines had some areas of overlap, and two brains were always better than one. Most of the anthropocentric specialties had remained long dormant. Humans had been pushed from the earth ages ago. Hai’s medical capabilities were used more than most, as metallo-organic interfaces were routinely updated. Priyanka, however, was a marine biologist. Their pairing was one of the rarer combinations. >Shall we proceed? >Yes, let’s. Hai pulled the shroud down. If she still had her lungs, she would have gasped. The specimen was bipedal, with dappled blue, hairless skin. The face was angular, with large, protruding eyes and a mouth full of sharp, hooked teeth. There was no nose, only a smooth place where one might have been, and the ears were just small black orifices in the side of the head. As she scanned the torso, she saw gill slits on the sides. The chest was vaguely feminine, and it (>she?) had long arms that terminated in a hand-like, finned appendage. Hai could see why she was drawn from sleep; the echoes of humanity in the face and body were plain as the sun. >Priya, what is this? Have you seen something like this before? Priyanka extended one of her probes, the one with a patch of skin on the end. She gently ran it over the turquoise flesh. >It feels like dolphin, or maybe whale skin. Mammalian? Counter shading suggests it is a predator, as do the teeth and hooked claws on the webbing. Hai, I have never seen anything close to this. I would believe that this is an entirely new species. Are the genomics available? The superintelligence had already collected tissue and blood and performed chemistries. When the DNA analysis was complete, Hai almost didn’t believe the output, but had perhaps expected it. >It says it’s human. -- Homo natans? Homo oceanus? The two experts went back and forth for hours during the dissection. They dutifully recorded their thoughts, each coming up with her own hypothesis for the organism’s existence. When Hai queried how long it had been since a human was observed in the wild, the database returned a value of approximately 2400 years. >It doesn’t seem like enough time. >Agreed. I don’t have answers for you, unfortunately. Is this simply a mutation? Or a representative of a larger group? >I’m not sure we’ll know until they find more. -- After their work was complete, Priyanka had given her a nod goodbye. Hai stayed behind to assemble her notes for the report. Despite years of being a part of the superintelligence, she hadn’t yet determined why they collected this data. Some terminal conclusion to a runaway optimization process? A grasp at omniscience, or a ghost of human ego? Perhaps her brain wouldn’t comprehend the reason at all even if it was revealed to her. She watched with sadness as the specimen was packaged and taken away. It was difficult to imagine what this human’s life had been like. Did she still have culture? Was her existence full of terror, or perhaps she felt the joy of being alive, in the ocean, held in the embrace of waves against bare skin? She walked back to storage and settled into her port. In the seconds before unconsciousness took her, she wondered if such a life might not be better than her own.
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Jun 5, 2022 14:17
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i got beef with nae brawl me
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Jun 7, 2022 20:10
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Nae-Roth brawl Bar Nights 250 words I wake to Mark slapping my arm. “There’s someone outside!” Glass breaks in the street. “It’s probably just a cat or -“ “It isn’t a cat!” From the street: “YOU hosed HER DIDN’T YOU?! YOU rear end in a top hat!” “I DIDN’T TOUCH HER LEXIE! YOU’RE ACTING CRAZY!” More glass. Mark shoves me out of bed. “Tell them to leave!” We lock eyes in the semidarkness. He looks pissed. “DON’T TOUCH ME FUCKFACE!” The lady outside is pissed too. I get up, my shirt clinging to my body in the summer heat. Out the window I see two college kids weaving up the road. The girl stops at every recycle bin and hucks empties at the guy. I watch her heave a wine bottle at him. He loses his backwards hat. “What day is it?” Mark hisses “Wednesday!” Wednesday Well at Romeo’s, the dive on the corner. My shoulders sag, and I ease the window open. It’s even hotter outside. “LEXIE I SWEAR, IT WAS JUST A HUG!” “SAVE IT, PRICK!” They’re standing in the middle of the street now. I raise my voice. “HEY, WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP?! IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!” The girl turns. “WHO ASKED YOU, rear end in a top hat?” The guy sees his opportunity. “YEAH! gently caress OFF!” The girl staggers to my recycle bin. She snatches a Corona and bombs it at me. It shatters feet from my face. She’s got good aim. I duck back inside. Another bottle breaks against our siding. The argument continues, and fades down the street.
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Jun 7, 2022 21:23
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| # ¿ May 16, 2024 10:55 |
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Nae / Rodent Brawl Judgement Rodent wins, edited, sorry nae sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 22:44 on Jun 8, 2022 |
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Jun 8, 2022 21:52
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