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Things have been a bit hectic lately, but I'll have crits up for the 3-part stories by the end of the week!
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Mar 30, 2016 22:11
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Thank you!
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Mar 30, 2016 22:20
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Carl Killer Miller posted:I feel really bad for you. Oh no, my name's on that! I hope no one from TD tracks me down on Facebook 
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Mar 30, 2016 22:32
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I'll give this a shot I suppose. In.
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Mar 31, 2016 00:18
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A Classy Ghost posted:Oh no, my name's on that! I hope no one from TD tracks me down on Facebook At least if they do, you know you'll have found someone more mentally hosed than you are
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Mar 31, 2016 01:08
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In with a  Crabby, hit me with a flashrule.
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Mar 31, 2016 04:17
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Titus82 posted:In with a in your story all drugs have stopped working and everybody has to go through life stone cold sober. this includes caffeine
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Mar 31, 2016 04:20
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crabrock posted:in your story all drugs have stopped working and everybody has to go through life stone cold sober. this includes caffeine I was hoping for a tiny guillotine, but I suppose that this will suffice.
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Mar 31, 2016 04:22
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Crabrock, when you say this:quote:2. At least half of your story must be dialog between these two chars. I will loving count, so don't try to scam me. do you mean it can have descriptive stuff? Or what is the "other" that you are insinuating here? And, would you mind giving an excerpt of an example for me?
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Mar 31, 2016 05:34
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3.141592653 posted:Crabrock, when you say this: "This is dialog," she said. This is an example of not dialog. And because the stuff in the quotes is shorter than the stuff outside of them, Crabrock would fail this post.
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Mar 31, 2016 06:33
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ooh, ok That works! I'm a bit brain dead so I'll revisit this later.
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Mar 31, 2016 06:37
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3.141592653 posted:Crabrock, when you say this: Lol
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Mar 31, 2016 07:21
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The other 50% should be cookie recipe, obviously
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Mar 31, 2016 14:27
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sebmojo posted:Lol Oh don't you lol at me, mister. I haven't lost yet and no way am I going to ruin it for myself simply because my retarded brain is over thinking this.
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Mar 31, 2016 16:38
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3.141592653 posted:Oh don't you lol at me, mister. Lol
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Mar 31, 2016 20:06
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sebmojo posted:Lol
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Mar 31, 2016 20:08
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3.141592653 posted:Oh don't you lol at me, mister. This is the weakest Kayfabe I've seen since the British Bulldog got dropped in Royal Rumble '95. You called him 'mister,' man.
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Mar 31, 2016 21:57
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Carl Killer Miller posted:This is the weakest Kayfabe I've seen since the British Bulldog got dropped in Royal Rumble '95. http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=XepdzlxpqcY&p=n#/332;345
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Mar 31, 2016 22:02
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Failed my toxx again because apparently I love throwing away money 
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Mar 31, 2016 22:55
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gently caress yeah I called him mister. I'm far too polite to insult others. Far too polite. edit: never mind. retarded brain is retarded. 3.141592653 fucked around with this message at 00:48 on Apr 1, 2016 |
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Apr 1, 2016 00:32
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Yes, you understand. 3.141592653 posted:gently caress yeah I called him mister. Oh my god can you suck worse
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Apr 1, 2016 05:07
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Carl Killer Miller posted:Oh my god can you suck worse I mean, he could be you.
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Apr 1, 2016 06:08
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Carl Killer Miller posted:Oh my god can you suck worse This from the ignorant taint-sniffer who prefers pissing and moaning about brawl toxx rather than just reading the rules laid out in the first loving page
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Apr 1, 2016 07:10
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3.141592653 posted:gently caress yeah I called him mister. stop talking
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Apr 1, 2016 08:35
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wow new guys, way to really be annoying as gently caress
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Apr 1, 2016 15:00
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I'll take that as a compliment, thank you.
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Apr 1, 2016 16:13
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ok that's it, too much fighting, i'm closing this thread say goodnight thunderdome
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Apr 1, 2016 16:37
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Trying to get the last word is not a particularly admirable trait. On that note, I'm in for this week.
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Apr 1, 2016 16:37
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Sitting Here posted:ok that's it, too much fighting, i'm closing this thread fuk u
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Apr 1, 2016 20:48
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In. Flash rule.
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Apr 1, 2016 22:19
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sebmojo posted:I'm sebmojo posted:really bad sebmojo posted:big sebmojo posted:fart
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Apr 1, 2016 22:53
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In, and flash rule me as well.
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Apr 1, 2016 23:00
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Mercedes posted:In. Flash rule. your two characters are not in the same physical location as each other. Thranguy posted:In, and flash rule me as well. one of your characters is experiencing something for the first time (a physical action, not an emotion)
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Apr 1, 2016 23:05
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lol
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Apr 1, 2016 23:40
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In.
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Apr 2, 2016 00:07
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sebmojo posted:fuk u hey why don't you got back to marshaling the poo poo parade AKA post the next Long Walk thread
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Apr 2, 2016 01:05
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STORY FOR MY BRAWL AGAINST TWIST Monsters in the Mouths of Babes 1499 words Alyssa chanted her dumb nonsense chant. She’d used my chalk to draw a pentagram on the floor of the garage. Olivia stole some fancy tea lights from Mom’s bathroom and put them around the points of the pentagram. It was supposed to be spooky, I guess, but it was the middle of a hot day and the air smelled like warm dog poop. I knew Olivia was only going along with this because Alyssa was cool and had her bellybutton pierced and watched her stepdad’s X-rated movies. Meanwhile, we were ex-homeschool dorks. After dad screwed up big and moved out, we went to public school. Olivia had it the hardest. She was three years older than me--officially a teenager--but she still wore overalls and faded souvenir T-shirts from every zoo we’d ever visited. I didn’t think Alyssa was so special. She did that annoying girl thing where she walked around with sweatpants that said things like LOVE and CUTIE on the butt. Sometimes she smelled like cigarettes. Olivia said she was the Kim Kardashian of junior high, and I guess her plan was to use the summer vacation to become Alyssa’s best friend. So, Alyssa chanted over her pentagram, and Olivia sat crisscross with her eyes closed, swaying a little like she was listening to music. I picked at a loose string on my sock. Hanging with Alyssa and Olivia was pretty boring, but not as boring as hanging out in the yard alone. Alyssa stopped chanting and opened her eyes with a fake-sounding gasp. “Oh my goddesses,” she said. She was looking at me. Olivia did the same thing--opened her eyes and gasped--but I could see her looking at Alyssa out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her to explain what they were gasping about. “Monster,” Alyssa whispered. She pointed at me with one shaky finger. “Caden? Is that you Caden?” Olivia squinted at me like, reached out like she was going to touch my face, then flinched away at the last second. “What did you do to him?” she asked Alyssa. “The spell was supposed to reveal evil spirits,” Alyssa said in her dumb creepy whisper. “It must’ve gone wrong somehow.” “You guys are dumb,” I said. I decided it would be more fun to build a rock pile in the driveway, so I got up to go do that. Alyssa screamed and scrambled backward on her butt. It was a real scream, a scared scream. “Get away from her, you demon!” Olivia shouted in what was I guess supposed to be a brave voice. She scrambled to put herself between me and Alyssa. “Magic isn’t even real,” I said. But they were both looking at me with really intense faces. Alyssa’s eyes were watery with tears. “I can’t understand you,” Olivia said. “All I hear is GRRUGHGRAWR.” “He’s your brother,” Alyssa said. “You have to either kill him, or scare him away so he never comes back.” Olivia looked over her shoulder at Alyssa, then back at me. She mouthed, Sorry. Then she was swatting the air between us with both hands like she was trying to fight a whole cloud of bees. Her hands passed inches from my nose and I stumbled backward. “Go,” she shouted. “Go away and never come back you stupid ugly monster!” - I built a pile of rocks in the driveway. The air above the asphalt was wobbly from the heat, and fat flies kept trying to land on my hand. When I was done with my rock pile, I kicked it over. Up and down the block, the yards and sidewalks were empty. I picked up one of the rocks from my broken tower and threw it into the street. It clattered a few feet across the pavement. The sound made the day feel fake and lonely. “I’m a monster.” I said the idea out loud, just to try it on for size. I looked down at my feet and imagined huge, hooked raptor claws exploding out of my sneakers. My arms would bend all weird and I’d grow skin like bat wings so I could fly. I’d have teeth as big as steak knives, but my eyes would glow green, so people would know I was one of the good monsters. I’d be able to fly to Dad’s house. I could join the police and fight crimes. I could let other kids ride on my back at recess. I could probably even make all the teenagers be nice to Olivia. - The stupid monster joke didn’t stop that day, or even that week. I couldn’t even get near Olivia and Alyssa without them screaming and running. Mom spent most of the time napping, due to medications. We weren’t supposed to go inside during the day, unless it was to pee. Every so often, Mom would call outside to let us know lunch or dinner was ready, but by the time we got to the table, she was back in her room. Olivia started eating over at Alyssa’s house more and more. I was a monster. - I stomped around, ripped out chunks of grass from the lawn, and tore bark off the cedar tree in the back yard. Basic monster pastimes. I hadn’t seen Olivia for days. Some nights, I would hear her creep inside, go up to her room, and shut the door. That’s all her and Mom were, just sounds. One night, I didn’t hear Olivia’s sounds. She didn’t come upstairs or play her annoying Kpop until midnight. I peeked out into the hallway. Mom’s bedroom door was closed. Olivia’s was wide open, and her room was dark. She wasn’t supposed to stay out late, or spend the night at anyone’s house. I stood on my toes like a T-rex and tucked my arms against my sides like folded wings. I stalked downstairs, out into the back yard where the dew-soaked grass made my bare feet itch, and the whole night was filled with crickets. I could hear voices next door, along with a wet, burbling sound. I crept to the fence between our yard and Alyssa’s yard and peered through a gap in the wooden slats. There was Olivia, in a hot tub. Her back was to me, but I knew her hair and her voice. She wasn’t with Alyssa. There was a man, old like Dad, sitting in the water next to her. He said, “I wish Alyssa could be as mature as you. Sometimes I forget you’re still just a kid.” “Boys at school think she’s pretty mature,” Olivia said. “Boys your age are stupid. Don’t worry about ‘em.” The man leaned over and patted Olivia’s upper arm. I saw him sometimes, driving Alyssa to summer school in a red car that looked like it was meant for racing. He had to be Alyssa’s step dad, which made me feel a little better about the whole staying-out-late thing, but then his hand was still on Olivia’s arm, and Alyssa was nowhere to be seen. He leaned in and said something in Olivia’s ear, too quiet for me to hear over the jets in the hot tub. She giggled and shook her head. His hand on her arm. His fingers stroking, working their way higher, to her neck. She pulled away. He pulled her back. Everything happened in frames like instant photos. I was at the gate to their yard. I was through the gate. I was at the hot tub. Olivia thrashed around. Steaming waves slopped over the edge of the tub. Step Dad was saying, “Hey, hey. Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. He had my sister’s wrist in one of his big, hairy hands. I unfurled my wings and leapt onto the hot tub, gripping the sides with my talons. “GRRAWWR!” I roared. Step Dad let go of Olivia’s arm and she toppled out of the tub and onto the warm, muddy grass. “What the gently caress?” Step Dad said. He looked stupid and pink and meaty like a hairy hotdog boiling in a pot. He tried to stand up, but I jumped on him, battered him with my wings, sank my knife-teeth into his shoulder. First he tasted like chlorine. Then he tasted like pennies. “Caden! Caden! Oh my god!” It was Olivia’s voice. Why hadn’t she run away yet? I was saving her. “Jesus loving--” Step Dad shoved me away. Now the hot tub was full of red, and Step Dad’s chest and arm were covered in red, and Olivia lifted me out of the hot tub and pulled me onto the grass. We stumbled back to our yard without looking back. As soon as we shut the gate behind us, Olivia sank down onto her knees and looked at me. She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Then I started to cry, too, because my feet were just feet, and my arms were just arms, and my mouth was full of a monster’s blood.
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Apr 2, 2016 01:42
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In.
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Apr 2, 2016 02:03
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PRANK BRWAL Style Points 1275 words June was nervous, so she did what she always did when she was nervous, which was complain and fiddle around with the gaping wound in her neck. “Why couldn’t we have gone out on Halloween and practiced then?” she said to Vickie, tugging on her turquoise necklace, sliding it past the wound made by her husband’s steak knife. It made a slimy sort of rattling noise, and in Vickie’s opinion, it was the only spooky thing June’d managed to do since the Afterlife Collective had assigned them to each other. Vickie sighed and slid through a curtain of willow leaves. They stirred the tiniest bit in her wake. “Because Halloween is Amateur Hour for ghosts. We’ve been over this. Every haunted hack comes out during Halloween and brings out their bag of cheap tricks to scare all the pissant little kids in Spongebob costumes, like how everybody thinks April Fool’s Day’s the one time it’s against the law not to laugh at their dumb jokes. If you want to be a master of the craft, you can’t have the day define you, it has to be the other way around.” She looked down the wooded path, moonlight falling through the gaps in the trees. ”Anyway, we’re not here for a scrimmage, we’re here for drills. I’ve got an expert waiting for us down the way. Until we meet up with him, no more cigarette questions.” “Cigarette questions?” said June. “Questions that make me want to smoke a cigarette.” June wrinkled her nose. “Those things’ll kill you.” Vickie turned back to look at June as she ducked under the willow branch. “No poo poo, huh?” she said, blowing a smoke ring at June. June frowned and kept tugging on her necklace. They both kept walking. She had the worst look for the business, too, thought Vickie as they made their way through the woods, the wind sending errant leaves gliding through their ankles. That blue polka-dotted dress she died in looked like it’d be perfectly at home in a 5th avenue boutique window, and that was precisely the problem. You couldn’t be stylish and strike fear into the hearts of the living at the same time. Get killed in a hospital gown, a wedding dress, an Easter Bunny costume…hell, the leather jacket and jeans Vickie had on wasn’t particularly eerie, but it was gritty at least, drat it, would get that Dead Man’s Curve thing going for you— “What was that?” said June. Vickie turned around to face her. “What now?” June turned to the side, a curious look on her face. “I thought I heard something rustling.” Vickie shrugged. “Probably us.” “No, it didn’t sound right…” June moved towards her left, where the noise had come from. She tried to move a branch out of the way, and her hand sank through it. Vickie groaned. “No. No. Just put your head through.” She shook her head. “Jesus.” June poked her head through the tightly clustered branches, then sprang back, turning around to face Vickie. “It’s a child!” she whispered, grinning. “Really?” said Vickie, her mouth open in mock surprise. “How big are its antlers?” June stared. “What?” Vickie waved her off. “Never mind. Let’s get going.” “Wait—but—“ June looked at Vickie, disappointment on her face. “Can’t I try? Just once? It’s my first night out here.” “No. Again, I told you, we’re not here for that right now,” said Vickie, hands balled up at her sides. “But Vickie—“ “June,” said Vickie, “listen and listen good.” She made her voice thin and sharp, like the steak knife that had pierced June’s neck. “The Collective assigned me to you because I never take poo poo from rookies, and you are not going to be the one to break that streak. This is a skill, and it’s not an easy one, and there are dangerous consequences if you screw it up. Dying is the easy part. Death is hard. So shut your mouth, and keep doing what I say. Got it?” June’s face fell. She stared down at her shoes, Christian Loubotins that glistened in the moonlight. “Got it,” she said. “Good,” said Vickie, turning back to the path. There was no sound as they walked, only the rustlings of the forest, so it wasn’t until minutes had passed that Vickie realized that June was no longer behind her. To hell with her, June thought as she crept closer to the rustling sound, tracking it through the woods. She’d had enough of people belittling her and telling her she wasn’t worthwhile. Her marriage had given her enough of that, more than she could handle. After a moment, she could see the boy walking through the woods, an overcoat hung over his tiny frame. She scampered over the fallen leaves with excitement, making no sound, a bloodcurdling scream welling up in her throat. Her hands reached out to grab his shoulders. He turned around to face her before she could pounce. She skidded to a stop and stared into his eyes, jet-black like the animals of the forest, gaping holes in the middle of his head that split his face open at ragged seams. She fell backwards, her hands gripping at dead leaves and finding nothing as she watched his mouth open, revealing layer upon layer of sharp teeth, dripping with reddish-black blood. He bent forward, grinning obscenely as a purple tongue slithered out from his mouth to lick the blood away. June whimpered, frozen in place. There was a tremendous ripping sound as knobby arms tore through the back of the boy’s overcoat and shot up into the sky, sending gnarled shadows over June’s trembling face, flexing talons of weathered bone back and forth. A high-pitched screech erupted from his throat, like a bat keening, searching for prey— “Vickie!” June screamed, mad with terror, unable to hear herself. “Vickie—“ “—Right here,” said Vickie, stepping out from behind a tree. The wailing stopped. “What—“ June whipped her head back towards the boy—just a boy again with normal eyes, blue eyes even. He giggled at her, held out his hand, waved it like he was casting a spell. “April Fools,” said Vickie. “But—“ June looked up at Vickie. “That boy—“ “That boy is our expert instructor for the night,” said Vickie. “Jean-Baptiste Garet, Prince of Lorraine and 10th level Terrorcrafter. Died during the Hundred Years War.” Jean-Baptiste bowed. “Merci, Madame Victoire.” “De rien,” said Vickie, nodding her head at him. She extended a hand to June, still sprawled on the ground. June stared at her hand, suspicious. Vickie sighed. “Look, you’re green, and you’re a sweet little housewife, and you make me lose my patience—but I think we have all the time in the world for me to get it back. Literally—“ —Vickie swept her hands to the sky— “—all the time in the loving world. If you can just trust me.” She held out her hand to June again. After a second, June took it, letting Vickie hoist her back to her feet. Without pausing, Vickie rubbed her hand over the wound on June’s neck. “Hey, wait—“ June protested as Vickie rubbed her bloody hand over the front of June’s dress. “There,” Vickie said. “Murder you up a little bit more. So, any questions? Even if they’re cigarette questions?” “How—“ June coughed, tried again. “How did he do all that? With the eyes, and the blood, and the claws, and the…“ Her voice trailed off. “Practice,” said Jean-Baptiste. “Yeah,” said Vickie, clapping June on the shoulder. “That poo poo takes centuries of practice. Basics first, style points later.”
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Apr 2, 2016 02:30
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In. Flash, please.
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Apr 2, 2016 02:54
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