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The Great Dog Escape In The Hood [975] (https://www.akc.org/dog-breeds/rottweiler/) https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7327&title=The+Great+Dog+Escape+In+The+Hood Nethilia fucked around with this message at 00:16 on Jan 3, 2020 |
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Apr 8, 2019 03:50
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Passing Note 941 words. (  https://www.akc.org/dog-breeds/czechoslovakian-vlcak/)The Song is this—the bite that ruptures the fat summer calf’s belly, a twitching exhalation delivering fecund-steaming green; the steady dragging-down of a crowned one’s flanks, frayed bellowing bleeding onto rotting leaves. It is the scent of Her, and of Him. Together the Song lope the wrinkles winding between ancient crags and trees, marking places that stink of power—a crumbling boar-bole, stung by past bouts of strength-contests; a black-glittering peak, basking bare beneath a rare hole in the canopy; an enormous crooked tusk from a god-that-shakes-the-earth, fading into the thick moss. The Song’s territory is heavy with flesh, so Rupturing Green and Sinking Crown kill often. They gorge only on the richest entrails, leaving cause for worship among the scavengers. Rupturing Green growls at the dark cloud that incessantly follows the Song. But Sinking Crown, tired from the hunt and the fatty intestines, rests on his rock. He watches the clever black birds as they click and caw into another easy meal. The Song’s strength grows with the pack inside Rupturing Green. Beneath a swollen moon the other territories cry for the coming of the Song’s blessed tyranny. It will exact from the Land, and make life hard—and in the end the struggle will make all kin stronger. But the howling is supplanted by a roar. It’s far too late in the season—yet Fire’s world-razing snakes slither acrid through the Land, flaking scales of black and ember. It’s the Many-Skins, the Song realizes. The Many-Skins have caged Fire. Now they set her upon the Land, reshaping it, as they reshape all things. The Lands flesh is burnt, and waning. Starving, the other packs disperse into the mating of sky and earth, to find hunting grounds in the far unknown. The Song remains. Rupturing Green and Sinking Crown fought hard for their territory—it’s theirs. They will keep fighting for it, even as it is now, wilted by proximity to the desiccating den of the Many-Skins. The Land can no longer support the Song. Rupturing Green worries that the pack will be borne weak. If at all. *** The boar was fat and slow and pitifully tuskless. The Song managed to eat its fill, before the sound of a clumsy two-legged gait gave warning in the breaking dawn. Rupturing Green, heavy with meat and life, lags behind. She catches one of the strange noises being thrown at her. The Many-Skins have a grunt and a whine for all things, pregnant with meaning. And this sound, stinking with fear, is the Song and its kin. The Many-Skins try to outsmart the Song. Sometimes they succeed, and Rupturing Green and Sinking Crown must stalk away in the night with empty bellies. But the Song is clever, too—it learns how to recognize and ignore a fake Many-Skin, and how to sneak past the real one. For a moon the Song hunts in this manner, taking another boar here, or a bird there. Although Rupturing Green and Sinking Crown don’t have to starve, they feel worn—they start to sense that it would be less effort to take one of the Many-Skins’ cubs. And then one wanders into their territory—alone. The red-maned cub moves deliberately, burdened by the heavy skin over her shoulder. The Song smells the feast long before the cub begins to unfurl it on the loam; the Song hears the cub’s trembling whine, the invocation of the terrified sound that means they—Rupturing Green and Sinking Crown, the Song, and their kin. Rupturing Green tightens the circle around the cub, snarling and snapping at her until she wets herself. Sinking Crown examines the meat. It’s almost spoiled. But edible. And easy. *** It’s always the same cub that brings the tribute. She grows used to the Song, and loses some of her fear. Sinking Crown watches from a rock as the cub closes the gap between predator and prey by pampering Rupturing Green with choice giblets. One day, the cub is close enough to reach out with a hand and touch fur. To the Song’s surprise, it lets her. The Song grows complacent under the care of the Many-Skin cub. Its touch is warm and caring—in a way as nourishing and lulling as the meat. Rupturing Green finds that she likes to have her strained belly gently rubbed. And Sinking Crown, he falls asleep when the cub scratches a particular place right on top of his head. The Song forgets to keep its muzzle to the wind. Death lumbers through the thicket. A wet snout tries the air, huffing forcefully—thick slobber splatters to the ground. He’s big, but strangely thin this close to his long winter sleep. The Song backs away, hit by the stench of an injury that never healed. They won’t fight Old Wound for the tribute. He can have it. But he rumbles past the half-rotting meat, his festering grief set for the Many-Skin cub. What is it to the Song? A distraction. So Rupturing Green will let Old Wound have the cub and— —and Rupturing Green is tearing at the inflamed hind leg. Pus and spittle flies as Old Wound roars, rending a giant paw at Rupturing Green. She tries to dodge, but she’s too heavy and slow. The Song inside will die with her. But the swing shrivels and falls short. Sinking Crown has latched onto Old Wound’s side. Rupturing Green attacks again, ripping open the festering mess. As Old Wound escapes, trailing pain and blood after him, the Song feels that it has lost something. But it doesn’t know what. *** The sound the cub makes was once ladened with fear. But the Many-Skins reshape everything.
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Apr 8, 2019 04:19
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https://www.akc.org/dog-breeds/newfoundland/ Looking Up 939 Words “Here’s your mail, you loving swizzlestick.” Zeke’s mother tossed a pile of letters and catalogs at his feet. “Thanks, Ma.” He said as he nodded his head. He heard the distinct murmuring of obscenities trail off as she walked down the hall. Zeke turned his attention back to his computer. He had to hunch over to read it. His gigantic frame taxed all of his childhood furniture in his room, and his chair let out a cry for help as he leaned forward and squinted at an e-mail. Sorry man dont thing youll be a good fit at our place our doors are only like 8 feet hi tho right? He forwarded the e-mail to his mother and titled the subject line “I’m still trying” and archived the email into a folder labeled “dickheads” which was nearing triple digits. He picked up the mail from the floor and checked it. One letter stood out, and as he read whom it was addressed to, his stomach twisted into a knot: The Surviving Relatives of Lester Wyatt ****** Zeke stumbled into the reading of his Uncle Lester’s will in torn jeans, a stained tie-dye t-shirt, and mud covered work boots. “Don’t mind me.” He grumbled through his bushy beard at the suits and skirts sitting up front. He sat down in the back and waited until he heard his name. “To my only surviving relative that I care to think about : Zeke Wyatt. Though the couch you used to sleep on surely can’t fit you anymore, my bed will probably be a much better fit. My house is yours. Please look after Hermes.” ****** Zeke dragged a large suitcase behind him as he punched in his birthday on the pin pad. As soon he opened the door, the chime went off. Hermes came barreling down the stairs and pounced onto Zeke's chest. He was a large Newfoundland, and couldn’t get physical with people like he could with Zeke, who was able to withstand all of his weight. “Good boy.” He said as he scratched him firmly under his snout. Zeke realized that Hermes was probably hungry as there may not have been anyone around to feed him. He went to the kitchen and dutifully filled up the bowl with kibble only to find that Hermes had already wandered off. “Hermes?” Zeke called out. Suddenly, a gentle-yet-pronounced mruff come from upstairs. Zeke followed the noise to his uncle's—now his—bedroom. In the corner was a mountain of kibble, behind it the wall stained with grease and particles from how high it must’ve been before Hermes had eaten portions of it. Zeke sat down on the bed and considered the situation. It was unlikely that somebody had been by after his uncle died. Alternatively, maybe Les sensed his death coming and gave Hermes a stockpile that would last until his nephew showed up. He laid down to consider his options. As his head hit the pillow, he felt a soft crinkle beneath it. He reached into the pillowcase and withdrew a note: Zeke. If you’re reading this, I’m gone. But—I might not be dead. ****** Zeke and Hermes exited the back of the house through the French doors in the kitchen. The backyard was small and heavily sequestered from the neighbors; the fences towered even higher than Zeke himself. “All right, Hermes, where is it?” He asked. Hermes let out a mruff and trotted to the center of the yard and sat down. Zeke followed him and began tapping his foot around the grass. Suddenly, his foot stopped before it hit the ground. A translucent berry colored platform hovered a few inches above the ground. He leaned forward until it was holding nearly all of his weight and then took another massive step forward. The platform held him up, Zeke now floated a foot above the yard. “gently caress me.” He said as he looked down at Hermes who was distracted by a nearby butterfly. Zeke reached into his back pocket and re-read the note. Ten years ago, something showed up in my backyard. It’s some kind of invisible spiral ramp to the heavens. Go out and check it for yourself. It behaves oddly and is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I've tinkered around with it but haven't managed to learn much. It definitely does not seem to be of this world. One thing is clear: You can walk forward and upwards for as long as you’d like, but you can't go back. So, only go as high as you’d feel comfortable jumping off. On September 20th, I started walking up the platform, with no intention of returning. If I don't find anything, I’ll jump off and end it. I’m an old man; and there ain't much left for me here. If, however, you don’t find my dead body somewhere nearby, that means that I may well have found something worthwhile up there. If that’s the case, I invite you to follow. If you do feel so inclined, you’ll find a large rucksack with provisions for the journey in the shed. Please take Hermes with, he’s seemed keen on figuring this thing out, and it will be heartbreaking for me to leave him behind. The possibility of one day seeing you again will make my journey much easier. Zeke let out a laugh and smiled for the first time since he learned of his uncle’s alleged passing. He bounded over to the shed, threw the pack of provisions over his shoulder, called for Hermes to follow, and the two giants began their ascent together.
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Apr 8, 2019 06:21
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Prompt Enough’s Enough (896 words) One month and three weeks after the fire, Aaron found himself dragged to consciousness by a insistent rapping on his study door. When he opened the door, he found himself staring at his tight-lipped sister-in-law. It was unfair, really, for Marlie to look so like her brother. Same wide eyes, same perpetually-scrunched nose -- the most notable difference here was where Eric had clipped his hair short, Marlie wore it in a high ponytail. Aaron forced himself to focus, and waved her in as he sat back down at his desk. “I’m guessing Stella let you in?” He couldn’t tell if he was slurring. He didn’t much care. A nod, then Marlie looked around the scattered study, apparently feeling no urge to elaborate. Aaron bit down the urge to tell her to stop prying and get out, but it was a close thing, especially when her gaze landed on the nearly-empty bottle of whisky sitting among the papers. He did not feel like dealing with her disapproval right now, especially since she wasn’t the one dealing with daily reminders of Eric’s absence. He said curtly, “What do you need?” He was vaguely aware that Eric had helped cover her rent and childcare expenses. Maybe if he agreed to do the same, she’d leave. She might also leave if he insulted her enough. That would be fine, too. “It’s not about me,” she said stiffly. “It’s about Stella. Daniel told me she couldn’t go on the field trip to the Adams Gallery of Photography because she forgot to turn in the permission slip.” “Field trip?” Aaron asked, even though it sounded faintly familiar. Marlie crossed her arms, and Aaron strongly considered seeing if there was any whisky left in the bottle. “Yes, field trip. I thought it odd, since Stella seemed excited about it when we talked about it.” “Huh,” Aaron said. Back when Stella was still a faceless name that Eric mentioned over dinner -- before his world had burned down -- he did remember photography coming up. He didn’t remember much other than that. Marlie was still staring at him, arm’s crossed. He shrugged. “I guess I forgot to sign the slip. But that’s not what this is really about, is it?” “It’s related,” she said. “What I really came to ask you about was what the hell do you think you’re doing.” Aaron spread his hands, and fought to keep his expression neutral, if not pleasant. “Care to enlighten me?” “From my perspective, it seems like you’ve been making a young girl very miserable.” Aaron was on his feet, and he wasn’t sure how. “Look, I may not have been you, but Eric made me promise to take care of her. And I have.” “If you mean she hasn’t starved, sure,” Marlie retorted. “My definition of ‘taking care’ involves putting the goddamn bottle down when she’s here. Stubbing out your cigarettes when you come inside. Talking to her.” As if she’d any right to -- “If you think I’m so poo poo, you could’ve taken her in instead,” Aaron said, and this time he couldn’t hold back the sneer. “You know we already have Daniel, and you also know we’re already living paycheck to paycheck,” Marlie snapped back. “I’d assumed that she would better off somewhere where the ceiling doesn’t leak with every cursed thunderstorm.” They glared at each other. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she looked away. “Clearly, I was wrong. I’ll take her off your hands.” She turned to the door. Before Aaron knew it, he was blocking her path. She flinched, and Aaron couldn’t deny he felt a mean thrill at that. “Please get out of the way.” “And if I don’t?” He stepped closer. She was shaking now. She put her chin up and said, clearly, “I’m going to leave now. With Stella. If you get in my way, I’m going to call the cops.” “I’d like to see you try.” She stepped forward, clearly intending to plow past him, but honestly -- Aaron could see her knees knocking. Who did she think she was fooling? That mean rush ran through his veins again, and the rest of the world seemed to fall away. It was just Aaron and this arrogant, presumptuous -- There was a whimper from the door, and Aaron found himself back in his mess of a study. Both of them turned towards the sound, and there she was. Stella. Knees knocking just as bad as Marlie’s, but the grip on her cell phone was steady enough. The look in her eyes, though-- Aaron didn’t flinch. People like him didn’t flinch. But he blinked, and then Marlie was somehow at the door and talking quietly to Stella. Both of them stepped out into the hallway, and then Aaron swore a familiar voice spoke into his ear. It wasn’t some soft and sweet whisper -- it was a sibilant hiss, begging him to just -- “Marlie, wait. Please.” She didn’t turn around, but she paused. The words felt like lead, but he managed to get them out anyways. “I can take over Eric’s payments. Since… he’s not here anymore.” That got her to look back. Stella didn’t, and Aaron found himself compelled to add, “No strings attached. I won’t visit. Just…” He fell silent. Finally, Marlie nodded. Then they were gone, and Aaron was alone.
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Apr 8, 2019 06:35
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Walking the Dog 841 words “It just isn't right,” said Vincent. “Two men of our caliber being assigned such a trivial task.” I wasn't inclined to disagree. We were at war, Minerva's crew against Azarat, and Vincent and I were Minerva's strongest assets, two people with the one in a hundred thousand immunity to magic and the even rarer basic competence at following orders and likewise. “And on top of that, Zed,” he went on, “On top of all that she wants us to follow the god-damned scooper laws and clean up after the thing. We don't follow laws. When was the last time you paid a parking ticket, Zed?” “It has been some while,” I said, a bit smugly. I won the coin toss. I held the leash. Vincent held the scoop and bag. We left Minerva's civilian house, and fifty pounds of Dutch Sheepdog what answered to the name of Poppy followed after. Minerva was at the safe house, which was where we were headed. Her boy was in Europe, in the truce zone, but the dog couldn't look after itself forever,alone in that house. And since we were crossing town anyway, we got the order. Time to walk the dog. We didn't want to hoof it, of course. We were going to take the van most of the way. But half way to the driveway, Poppy balked. Sat down, dug in heels, and would not be moved one more inch. I tugged the leash. Poppy held his ground. Vincent shuffled bag and scoop to the same hand and brought out the keys. That's when Poppy moved. He sprung forward, past me, pulling the leash out of my hand. Poppy ran around the van and jumped on Vincent, knocking him over into the snow. The keys flew under the van and Poppy started licking Vincent’s increasingly unpleasant face. “Just remember how much the boss's kid loves that dog,” I said. “Just get the damned keys, Zed,” he said. I got down on the ground to reach for them. “We ain't going to use the van after all,” I said. I pointed. A metal box, with a slowly blinking red light. If it had been on remote control we'd have been dead already. Ignition trigger, with the guy long gone, had to be. Vincent sighed. “What's the matter?” I said. “Not up for a nice long walk?” Vincent scowled. “I'm in shape,” he said. “I work out. You know that.” “So then what?” I asked. “A lot of open spaces. A lot of blind corners.” “A lot of witnesses,” I added. “Not everywhere. I worry, is all.” “You complain.” “I do?” asked Vincent. “You carp, you kvetch, you carry on. You do everything but whine you do.” I said. Poppy gave a short whine, as if he recognized the word. Vincent held up his hand. “You feel that?” he said. As he said it, I did. Magic. Azarat sent wand boys,and they were training them right at us. Now when I said immune to magic, it's not complete. Getting hit by a death curse hurts like a hornet sting. You want to avoid that if you can. I ducked away at the last minute, and the bolt hit the pavement beside me. Disintegration spell. Vincent tried to swerve away, too, but Poppy zigged as he zagged and body checked him. The bolt hit him in the back and he yowled. I looked up and back and saw the swarms of crows and pigeons descend on the wand-snipers on the roofs. It was good to see Minerva's allies at work, let us know the lich-master hadn't already won. Then I looked at the sizzling hole in the pavement, just enough asphalt vaporized that I could see the metal wall of the gas main pipe under where Vincent stood. We picked up the pace. We knew short-cuts, alleys that saved blocks. We took the risk and lost, big time. Right in our way was Azarat's enforcer, a nine foot tall bone golem with arms like bone chainsaws, razor sharp gleaming shark-teeth rotating in a loop from hand to elbow. Immune don't cover getting carved up like a turkey. We had guns, and took a few shots, but guns don't do much against solid spell-hardened bone. I thought we were goners, but then Poppy leapt right at the golem, teeth bare and growling. That ball of fur landed right on the golem's chest and pulled the bones out with his teeth, too fast for those whirring hands to come down. The rune-etched master bone came out and the golem collapsed into a pile of ribs and teeth and skulls. Poppy carried the runed tibia for a few blocks, then deposited it in a sewer drain. When we reached the safe house Minerva thanked someone for getting someone else safely too her. She was trying to sooth our pride, and I think it worked on Vincent, but I could tell what was what. The dog was the only one of us who got a biscuit.
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Apr 8, 2019 07:43
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Irkalla 1000 words Dog: Saluki This story edited out of the thread for search engine anonymity reasons. You can read it on the TD archive though! https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7332&title=Irkalla Anomalous Blowout fucked around with this message at 05:48 on Dec 30, 2019 |
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Apr 8, 2019 07:56
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oh god oh gently caress I completely forgot about my toxx this week uhhh, the story of Max the Australian Kelpie dog 995 words Once there was an Australian Kelpie dog named Max. Max lived a life as a housepet in a gray cul-de-sac somewhere in eastern Massachusetts. Max was constantly haunted by mysterious urges he couldn't understand; urges to run, to chase, to lead, to herd; but herd what he could never quite figure out. The squirrels in the yard rejected his advances, and whenever he stayed inside and practiced herding the couch cushions the people who lived in the house would get mad. He loved them anyway. The people spent most of their time hunting. They caught all manner of strange and delicious beasts and stashed the corpses in their strange bright burrow. Sometimes they'd share choice cuts of meat with Max; other times they only gave him scraps, or dusty brown pellets in a little bowl by the door. He ate the pellets dutifully, knowing he should keep up his strength for herding. One day one of the people in the house -- a woman-person who smelled like plastic and dandelions -- stopped coming back from her daily hunts. Max missed her. The other woman-person, who always smelled of incense, seemed to miss her too, flopping down on the couch each day, lazing and grunting instead of playing with Max. (She did spend a lot of time hugging and grooming him, which he didn't mind. It annoyed him sometimes, especially when he was antsy and wanted to play, but he tolerated it to comfort her. She didn't like being groomed, anyway, always swatting away his tongue. So if scratching him calmed her, he'd try to relax and enjoy it.) One day incense-smell didn't go out to hunt, and stayed in her room the whole day. Max could smell her inside. He sat outside the door, waiting for her to come out all morning. Around noon he started pacing and whining, worried, but she ignored him. When the sun was halfway to setting she came out, smelling like musk and sleep. He pushed his head at her leg to get her attention; she absentmindedly scratched him and poured some dusty pellets and water into his bowls, then went back into her room and closed the door. It started to happen more often. The incense-scented woman went out less and less, staying at home or in her room more and more, never walking Max, just letting him outside. Eventually there came a stretch of two days where she forgot to give Max any meat or pellets, and his bowl ran out. He sat curled outside her door as the sun set, nibbling thoughtfully at tangles in his fur. Eventually he came to a decision, and settled down to rest. When the sun woke him, he yawned and stretched, preparing himself. He turned to the door, shook out his fur, and in his best and sternest voice, shouted an alert. He heard the incense-woman shifting and grumbling in her nest, so he shouted the alert again, and again. Eventually she opened the door, making displeased songs with a scratchy voice. Smells poured heavy from the room behind her; stale food, the sickly smell of the long-rotted water that she drank sometimes, her natural scent unscoured by washing. She looked tense, frustrated; but before she could lash out, Max kicked into gear. He darted behind her and set to rumbling a friendly growl. She made some noises but eventually gave up, and went back to lie down in her nest. Max didn't let her. He jumped up onto the nest and upped his growl a little, adding a note of warning to it. She backed off a bit, wary, front legs raised a little to defend herself. He hopped down from the bed and walked towards her, growling more. Eventually she got the hint and backed out of the room. He followed her as she walked through the house. When she tried to go into the room where the plastic-and-dandelions woman used to nest, he ratcheted up the growl again, until she backed off and walked towards the kitchen. Once they came to the kitchen, he led her to the back door, bumping his head into her heels to keep her moving. Once they were there, he walked pointedly over to his food bowl. She got the hint, and poured him some water and gray pellets. He ate quickly, keeping an eye on her, and then left his bowl and steered her to the back door. She looked at him, exasperated, but he'd gotten this far, and wasn't going to give up now. Eventually she made a placating sound and started putting on her shoes; he leapt and bounded around her with joy. They left the house and started down their usual path through the woods. The woman walked slowly at first, distastefully, like she wasn't used to it. Max nipped gently at her heels to encourage her to speed up. Sometimes he would bound ahead of her, looking out for danger; then he would return to her heels, keeping her on task. As they walked down the trail, the woman picked up her pace, getting used to her legs again. She started to sing more songs to max, in a friendlier voice than before. She started to strut, and to jog. Eventually they came to a clearing, a wide expanse of tall grass. Max looked at her expectantly; she smiled, and then tensed playfully, like she was going to pounce. Max tensed too, waiting for her to move. They stared each other down for a long, frozen moment. Then she moved, and Max bolted, sprinting across the field. She took off after him, following slowly on her strange ungainly legs. She sang a happy song. Max turned and ran circles around her, shouting with joy, staying just out of her reach. Eventually she fell down in the tall grass, giggling; max flopped down next to her and rolled around on his back, panting, happy. He'd found somebody to herd. animist fucked around with this message at 09:03 on Apr 8, 2019 |
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Apr 8, 2019 08:58
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Yoruichi posted:Max That's my 50th entry binches! Aww yeah. That's right. That makes me the 28th person in the history of Thunderdome to crack the big five oh. That puts me in the top 4% of Thunderdome authors by number of entries. Quite the achievement, I think you'll find 
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Apr 8, 2019 10:12
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Apr 8, 2019 11:10
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submissions closed
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Apr 8, 2019 14:03
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Apr 8, 2019 16:45
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Interprompt: cat week 200 words
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Apr 8, 2019 17:08
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Uranium Phoenix posted:Interprompt: The Menace of West 42nd Apricot Street 200 words “The council convenes,” announced Lady Finecoat, licking her paw. “We must decide what to do with this… newcomer.” “I like it!” said Biter, rolling around on his back. Lady Finecoat and Silk Shadow both turned their heads haughtily. The opinion of a degenerate catnip addict was of no concern to the council. “It eats our food,” yowled Softspeckle. “Shh!” hissed Silk Shadow. “Do you want it to hear us?” Biter continued to roll around. The rest of the council looked about, ears cocked. “It has no respect for personal boundaries,” Lady Finecoat said. “I propose we hiss at it until it goes away.” “I doubt it will go away, no matter how much contempt we show it,” said Silk Shadow, looking pointedly at Biter. “It does seem particularly oblivious,” Softspeckle said. “Not once did it notice I was deliberately ignoring it yesterday. I checked several times.” Silk Shadow hesitated, then spoke. “It is soft and warm. I took a nap next to it in a sunbeam.” Lady Finecoat gasped. “And it didn’t chase you or excitedly bounce around?” “Not once.” “Perhaps there is hope, then,” Softspeckle said, as a clatter announced the puppy’s arrival, bounding at forward with relentless happiness.
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Apr 8, 2019 19:53
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dog week 2 results this week was boring so you get boring results Simply Simon loses Nikaer Drekin DMs no one HMs Anomalous Blowout wins 
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Apr 9, 2019 21:11
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THUNDERDOME CCCXLIX - A Stroll Through the Archives Like a lot of people, I wandered away from TD for a while and then came back. Life kicks you in the dick sometimes–you get busy, you get depressed, you get uninspired. When I returned, one of the things I took the most delight in was reading back through the archive and seeing what people had been up to in my absence. There’s a massive treasure trove (or it is a travesty trove?) of stories in our archive and they’re as different as the people who wrote them. This week, when you sign up you will be assigned a thunderdome participant and your prompt will be to write a story that contains elements from one of their stories on the archives. I’m not picky about “elements” - it can be setting, it can be characters, it can be a direct sequel, whatever. It just has to be directly informed by that work. If you want 200 extra words then I’ll assign you a specific story from your specific person’s back catalogue. For people who are new and don’t have accounts on the Thunderdome archive site: if this is the case for you, say so and I will be sure to assign you a person who still has stories visible in the goldmined threads, which are accessible from the Thunderdome 2019teen OP. 900 words or less (1100 if you take a flash) Sign-ups due: Friday 12th Apr, 11:59pm PST Submissions due: Sunday 14th Apr, 11:59pm PST Your judges Moi ?? ?? Your archivists Ironic Twist - Hawklad Antivehicular - Fumblemouse’s “Willful Indiscrection.” Thranguy - dmboogie’s “Old Truckers Never Die, They Just Drive Their Rigs Straight Up the Stairway to Heaven.” Fleta McGurn - Hammer Bro’s “Candybrain.” kurona_bright - Exmond’s “Memories of You, Hovering in the Sky.” Uranium Phoenix - Broenheim’s “You Didn’t Deserve All This Gray.” steeltoedsneakers - God Over Djinn onsetOutsider - Sitting Here’s “The Show.” Saucy_Rodent - Fanky Malloons’ “Equal Opportunity Witchcraft.” anatomi - WeLandedOnTheMoon!’s “Chute” Lippincott - whalley curlingiron - M. Propagandalf’s “Some Coercion Required.” Solitair - PoshAlligator Simply Simon - Yoruichi’s “What We Are Capable Of.” Sitting Here - Grizzled Patriarch QuidProQuid - Entenzahn’s “Make A Wish” crabrock - SurreptitiousMuffin’s “Obvious Phallic Symbol.” SurreptitiousMuffin - Nethilia’s “BFF.” Tyrannosaurus - Morning Bell sebmojo - Fuschia tude’s “Extrinsic Behavior.” Anomalous Blowout fucked around with this message at 04:28 on Apr 12, 2019 |
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Apr 9, 2019 22:02
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in.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:04
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In, and hit me with a story
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Apr 9, 2019 22:05
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In, flash.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:06
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In and flash
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Apr 9, 2019 22:11
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Flash, in.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:12
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Your goon is Hawklad. Antivehicular posted:In, and hit me with a story You get Fumblemouse’s “Willful Indiscrection.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=2780&title=Willful+Indescretion Thranguy posted:In, flash. You get dmboogie’s “Old Truckers Never Die, They Just Drive Their Rigs Straight Up the Stairway to Heaven.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=4934&title=Old+Truckers+Never+Die%2C+They+Just+Drive+Their+Rigs+Straight+Up+the+Stairway+to+Heaven Fleta Mcgurn posted:In and flash You get Hammer Bro’s “Candybrain.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=4869&title=Candybrain kurona_bright posted:Flash, in. You get Exmond’s “Memories of You, Hovering in the Sky.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=6510&title=Memories+of+You%2C+Hovering+in+the+Sky
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Apr 9, 2019 22:20
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In, flash
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Apr 9, 2019 22:23
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Uranium Phoenix posted:In, flash You get Broenheim’s “You Didn’t Deserve All This Gray.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=4128&title=You+Didn%E2%80%99t+Deserve+All+This+Gray
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Apr 9, 2019 22:26
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gently caress it, in. That'll be my 16th entry binches! Aww yeah. That's right, Yoru. That makes me the 109th person in the history of Thunderdome to crack the sweet sixteen. That puts me in the top gently caress knows of Thunderdome authors by number of entries. Quite the achievement, I think you'll find Sorry, if that wasn't clear. Fight me. Deadline at least a week after this story is due hopefully.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:29
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in flash toxx
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Apr 9, 2019 22:30
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in flash
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Apr 9, 2019 22:36
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steeltoedsneakers posted:gently caress it, in. Edit: whoops thought you’d said a flash somewhere in your brawl announcement post. Your goon is God Over Djinn. onsetOutsider posted:in flash toxx You get Sitting Here’s “The Show.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=4529&title=The+Show Anomalous Blowout fucked around with this message at 22:40 on Apr 9, 2019 |
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Apr 9, 2019 22:36
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flerp posted:in flash You get Solitair’s “Collapse Sonata.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=5748&title=Collapse+Sonata
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Apr 9, 2019 22:37
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In flash toxx
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Apr 9, 2019 22:39
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steeltoedsneakers posted:gently caress it, in. Bah ha ha yes I will crush you with pleasure. Also my sperg rating is way better than yours.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:40
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Oh gee. Oh gosh. I really shouldn't. But... Please gently caress me up. I'm in.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:43
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Saucy_Rodent posted:In flash toxx You get Fanky Malloons’ “Equal Opportunity Witchcraft.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=1736&title=Equal+Opportunity+Witchcraft anatomi posted:Oh gee. Oh gosh. I really shouldn’t. But… Your goon is WeLandedOnTheMoon! Edit: Anatomi has also asked for a flash and now gets “Chute.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=5250&title=Chute Anomalous Blowout fucked around with this message at 23:22 on Apr 9, 2019 |
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Apr 9, 2019 22:46
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Steel-toed Yoruchi Brawl Your prompt is butts. Your story will contain the word butt exactly three times, and each use must have a different definition. Human butt, butt of a joke, cigarette butt, etc. 1000 words, two weeks from today.
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Apr 9, 2019 22:48
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Saucy_Rodent posted:Steel-toed Yoruchi Brawl
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Apr 9, 2019 22:52
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In!
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Apr 9, 2019 22:58
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Special crit for Yoruichi – Max I really wanted to like your story, because I love spiders and also got a small thing for cars, but it didn’t hit for me. I have mentioned before in my crits that I like straightforward narratives, so do not take it as a strike against you: I simply don’t get what you’re going for, and that’s probably as much my problem as yours. However, I’ll point out what specifically confused me, and if you think „I knew I should have made this clearer“, then my crit will have been helpful. It starts with the Fibonacci scaffolding. The way the sentence reads to me – „made of metal bars like Fibonacci scaffolding“ – my brain assumes that it’s comparing the bars to the existing concept of such scaffolding (there is no such thing), but what you’re actually trying to say is that the metal spiderweb looks like scaffolding (generic), but woven in a Fibonacci way, like a web. Like, I get it, but it’s mixing the metaphors and similes a little too freely for my science brain. Next problem I had was with scale. The first paragraph does evoke a large one, but a spider scuttling over an office window makes me think the spider is inside – so it would be spider-sized. And Geoff throwing the keys at it, making it go away, does nothing to dispel that image. So I’m confused again when it does turn out to be car-sized spiders. Knuckling tears from cheeks sounds weird to me, albeit like something I’ve read before. And found it weird then as well. I didn’t quite get the significance of the pub scene, until I later caught the fragment that Geoff went there every day. Nothing in the paragraph where you describe the inside of the pub told me that Geoff was intimately – or at all – familiar with it. I think that devalues the scene a little, because if you do make it more unsettling that there’s nobody in there, and no comfort even at his regular watering hole, it would be stronger for the atmosphere. The next point of confusion comes in how you structure the ladder paragraph. It goes from „there is a ladder“ to Jen’s face to where Geoff does NOT want to be, then he sees his Audi (?), and for some reason now he knows where he wants to be, and that is up the ladder. And the thing is, you mention the ladder before he sees the Audi, suggesting that he thought of climbing even before spotting the spider. But why? And why would he even want to go after the Audi-spider? It then turns out that it wasn’t the Audi at all but a new „character“ entirely, the Hilux/Max (another small hitch in my reading the story as I mentally replaced the car model in my mind), and it’s taking Geoff for a joyride. After a while of a nice „action“ scene with a good description of the cityscape, Geoff decides that he does in fact want to go home after all (I get why, because his concern for safety overrides his reluctance to see her again), but Max has a different idea of taking him up to a seemingly random building, so Geoff gets out. But then he climbs the building on his own regardless. His only motivation for getting out I see is „I don’t want the carspider to take me up there“, but then he takes himself up there instead, and it’s obviously harder than letting the spider do it. It would be more understandable if he was afraid that the spider would eat him or something, but at no point does he express any sense of being afraid or disgusted or even mildly concerned with the whole surreal situation. So why not see where Max takes him? Anyway, if you have to have Geoff climb through the metal web, this should be more than two sentences, imho. That would be a great scene of struggle through a claustrophobic and entirely alien environment, but you don’t do anything with it. Then he meets Jen, and it’s also incredibly sudden; why is she up there as well, brought by Max I presume? Jen does take the ring and makes the bizarre statement that a car-sized spider could possibly „use“ it in his nest, somehow. Then Geoff’s tension is released and I don’t know why. How does her taking the ring back and giving the statement I admittedly don’t get at all make him feel better? Closure? And finally, who is the puppy? Is Max going to have carspider kids? With whom, the Audi? Is Jen pregnant? With Max’s spawn?! What is the nest for please tell me
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Apr 9, 2019 23:01
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Cool okay let's do this. In.
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Apr 9, 2019 23:01
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Your goon is whalley. curlingiron posted:Cool okay let’s do this. In. Your goon is M. Propagandalf. Edit: Curlingiron has since asked for a flash, so your M. Propagandalf story is “Some Coercion Required.” https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7159&title=Some+Coercion+Required Anomalous Blowout fucked around with this message at 23:20 on Apr 9, 2019 |
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Apr 9, 2019 23:15
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IN.
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Apr 9, 2019 23:35
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In with a flash, please! I'd also like to use this post to thank all the people who have critted my stories in the past pages. I promised myself that I'd thank everyone personally when I first started writing for here but I slacked off. I'm sorry  . I love that you all take the effort.
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Apr 9, 2019 23:42
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