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I am so in. Believe.Wrageowrapper posted:I am in on this. My handsome, dashing voice will roam through the dome.
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Sep 17, 2012 09:15
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Oh man, this is so close to a great line of IP. Cut 'through' and it works. It wasn't, but I guess I just have a natural talent from it  Also: Space Opera poem, most def.
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Sep 17, 2012 20:06
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Y Kant Ozma Post posted:Way to choose a poetry prompt on a week when I'm probably too busy to enter Probably is not a word what are you talking about. Neither is too or busy.
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Sep 18, 2012 19:03
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I will let my voice roam the dome, as promised, but I can't tonight because people are trying to sleep and this should be spoken with some volume for maximum effect. Steel From Stars Beyond Beyond the starlit chambers of the bridge, I stand in solemn revelry, of him, Who judges that which drives my heart to beat, And strikes upon the ones without our faith. Through duty done, through death upon new death, We ride the winds of stars, to end of all, And if we should be judged before our time, Know this, my epitaph is of his will. We ride from Sirius, to Luna's dark, And stride upon the surface of the moon. Lay waste to that which mocked our faith, so strong, And break the back of lions, dragged from hell. See Gabriel, with hatred for the Earth, And Raguel, who breaks the thousand seals. We ride to war, upon the back of faith, And earth will fall before our wrath of God. Through atmosphere, we drive our steeds of steel, And fire meets us, crushes, smites, but see, We brave remain, we few we of the faith, And planetfall breaks backs of giants strong. See New York fall before dark Remiel, And Moscow tremble at great Uriel. A thousand weapons fill the blue sweet skies, And turn them black, as cursed starless space. Before us trembles presidents and kings, In coats and hats and suits, covered in blood. One stands there strong, and brave in foolishness, The sun will always rise, and then that's it, A few words ended with a thunderous crack, As Michael's gun has borne the doom of queens. The ribbons of her hat go by the winds, A curious, confectionery, thing. We leave the earth and head for Jupiter, For Titan and Europa, for their end, The fortresses of men will fall again. What wonders of such death and endless dread, Awaits Raphael, with his scepter strong, And Sariel, with railgun forged from pain, Will slaughter cities, in the name of God, And heaven will forever reign, supreme.
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Sep 20, 2012 23:51
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toanoradian posted:Well, holy poo poo, Black Griffon. I guess the chillest plains hide the As much as I find pride in your grand words My mind had wandered far, too far indeed, For as I read the prompt again I saw, That silly hats must don the head of those, Who's role in mine own poem should be main, And not the extras, bland, of no import. I fear thus fate and wrath of judges grand, As they would look upon my work as bland, But in this thunderdome there is no peace, No mercy, grace or respite from quick death. And so I must stand strong against the few, 'Cause my poem kicks y'all asses, dicks.
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Sep 21, 2012 00:48
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-est monsters.
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Benagain posted:The thunderdome is merciless but fair and I must forfeit due to lack of preparation and confusion. This is the weakest loving week ever.
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Sep 21, 2012 17:53
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Y Kant Ozma Post posted:I seriously was too goddamn busy "I say", said one who sat at fireplace, "This labor is not hard nor grim to time. These poems fly from fingers, quick and true, And leaves me time for supper, tea and brunch. It might not be the order you desire, But oh, alas, I've lost the point again. No let us, 'fore it once again occurs, Return to that which waited on my lips. This poem took me not an hour to write, But rather, like, four minutes or, say, five. It's not an art to make the time for art, But soul is nourished by this joyful craft, And should you find your timetable is full, Then jot it down on carriage tram or bus. Indeed, I think that what I try to say, Is that you failed the Thunderdome, you rear end."
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Sep 22, 2012 00:25
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What helps me is imagining Stephen Fry reading everything I write in his wonderful, British voice.
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Sep 22, 2012 22:05
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In a few minutes, Erik will try again. Last time, he failed, but so did Bud. Blue, blue, blue. Blue skies, blue ocean reflecting skies. Seared into retinas and inescapable as the ocean. Their entire world a little lifeboat, all they possess. The first time he tried, he'd lost every ounce of strength he gained from stale rainwater and skinny fish. This time it'll be different. This is his kingdom, and Bud is in his way. Salt covers skin, lungs, heart, veins. It's embedded in him, first obstacle on the way to the throne. He moves arm; it creaks with the layer of salt, shudders and fades. The red raw leather which has replaced his skin loses feeling like a river trickling away. Bud doesn't move. Some time passes, a second or an hour. Erik is at Bud's side. He stabs with the fishing knife, has to fall on it before it pierces skin. Bud doesn't bleed, doesn't move. Erik laughs, dislodges flakes of salt from his throat and throws up raw, rusty blood. Falls over and lays still. His tiny throne sits solitary on the blue.
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Sep 23, 2012 17:53
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Oh hey, I'm a judge, which means I can ask you how the gently caress you managed to put the same date on signup and submission. And you can't dock me no points, hombre.
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Sep 24, 2012 01:47
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Erik Shawn-Bohner posted:Jesus I'm hungover today. I'm not surprised.
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Sep 26, 2012 20:57
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Y Kant Ozma Post Autumncomet posted:Does the universe implode if pipes! tries to change Ozma's avatar? This is not an issue, so don't talk about. Seriously non-thunderdome; nothing more about this.
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Sep 28, 2012 03:00
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Alright, a snippet: There's more work ahead. 1946 - 665 words Lucy: I found the body two hours after I woke up. Skin pale with red blotches. At that point my age stopped me from feeling much, but I still felt something was wrong; some subconscious feeling told me in seconds a man shouldn’t look like this. Memory entered like my mind moved through mud, to pick up the pieces, to figure out this puzzle. Eventually it focused on uncle's stories of the pacific. All those tales of dead japs in heaps. Still, all just stories to me, I hadn't even seen pictures. It all connected in the end; I'd found a dead man. Looking back after all these years, I can't say I'm surprised at how I acted. From what I've noticed later, kids tend to act like that. So when I didn't tell anyone and went to swim in the creek, no smile on my lips, I did it as a child, nothing more. I met Darcy at the creek, soaked and dancing to dry herself. I yelled from a safe distance, asked if she'd already swum. Of course it was a stupid question, but my mind didn't work like it should have. She looked at me like I was stupid, and smiled her half-smile as she ran over and hugged me. I struggled for a minute to get free, but the moment I did I dragged her along and dived in. A desperate attempt to banish thoughts from my head, it almost worked. When our clothes had dried and the sun beamed down from noon, I wondered for a minute if I should tell. The rest found the body after dinner. Loud yells startled me so much I dropped the plates I carried, but mother had no time to be angry as father burst into the kitchen. They found uncle in his bedroom, and had I been any older, they'd have told me he blew his brains out earlier in the day, while everyone was out and about. When the police came to pick up both bodies, I noticed Darcy looked at me, studied my face. I wondered if she knew, and I looked away. Darcy: When Lucy looked at me, right as they carried the bodies out, I wondered if she knew. Secrets are so easy to spot on young faces. When they found them, right after dinner, I think Lucy only failed to see the tears which welled up in my eyes because of the armful of plates she dropped. The secret tumbled around in my brain all during the time at the creek, threatened to burst and spill from my mouth like sick. I buried it deep and danced to banish it, but I still feared she knew. I found uncle just two hours after I woke up. He had his gun, the one he'd used to kill japs, and it scared me. "Hey champ," he said. Sad smile, eyes down. "Hi uncle. Why do you have your gun out?" "Just thinking. This thing reminds me of a lot of bad stuff, you know?" I didn't, but I nodded just because. "Darcy." He scared me now. He looked up at me now, eyes red from tears or lack of sleep. "Darcy, you have to tell them that I did it for a reason." I backed away, hit the doorframe. "I killed him, yes, but I did it for a reason. The war isn't over; he's one of the conspirators. You have to tell them that. Can you tell them that?" I nodded, from fear, not agreement. I turned and ran for the creek. Tears in red eyes the last thing I saw. I don't know what makes the kind of bond which keeps a pair together for life, and I don't know how we've managed to keep it despite the secret. I didn't tell a soul what he'd told me. Not even her. I think I'll tell her now, it’s been long enough. I might not get another chance.
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Sep 28, 2012 03:28
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gz3Cc7wlfkI
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Sep 28, 2012 04:56
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Also, cover letter: "Hello Mr. Gonzalez Thank you for considering [title] for the CIPHER collection. My work has been featured in: -X -X -X Regards, [name]" Obviously cut out the "work has been featured in" part if you've never published. Michael Paul Gonzalez is the editor, I guess it's up to you if you want to run with full name or Mr. Gonzalez.
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Sep 28, 2012 05:20
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BITCH BELIEVE
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Sep 28, 2012 05:28
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That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me. Announcements coming up once bud gets online again. God, some people, you know?
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Oct 1, 2012 03:31
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He will provide, or suffer consequences. His bravery is commended, but mercy does not come easily from us.Jimson posted:I'm in I will be typing my entry slow as I just got stitches in my hand from a vicious battle. So if a mod wants proof I can get them a picture of my grody hand.
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Oct 1, 2012 08:14
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The crowd went silent. Jimson clutched his wounded hand as his opponent danced around him, confident he'd won. The opponent laughed and spat, a hysterical timbre to his voice. He had this victory, he needed this victory. Only the crowd noticed Jimson rise. "Wrageowrapper" A tremor ran down Wrageowrapper's mutant face. A visible change from exhilarated to blatant fear. He turned. "This isn't over."
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Oct 1, 2012 08:59
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I've got a few pieces left on my writeup, but it's coming up within the hour.
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Oct 1, 2012 09:26
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Let's make it easy: If it's "Fun" I liked it, if it's "Dull" I didn't. Either because the chunk of life didn't feel defining or descriptive enough to be exciting, or if it was defining, it didn't come through properly. Seldom Posts There's some great atmosphere here, and I an almost smell the "old people house" while reading your story, but that run-on paragraph could be broken up, and it disrupts the flow instead of enhancing it. Fun. LordVonEarlDuke This is fun as hell, but the witchcraft angle is uncool beans. Could have cut some "said" from your story. Fun. Bassetking This runs far from the prompt, but I guess it's something. Some of the dialogue should be broken up, it doesn't sound good out loud. Dull. Chairchucker Violence without substance. It's fun enough on a superficial level, but there's not much to it. Dull. budgieinspector I love the dialogue in this, and it's a great piece overall. Feels a tiny bit too fragmented at times though. Fun. The Saddest Rhino Gimmick is predictable, but it works and I like it. They left and returned though, "started to leave" is clumsy, and I mention it because it's a pretty important pair of lines. Fun. Jonked You need to take an ax to -ly words. And speak all your lines aloud, too many of them sound awkward. Dull. Bad Seafood This is nice, you've really captured a moment here. Reading it feels a bit like eating sauce as a side-dish though, where the sauce is the dialogue and the main is the rest of the text. Mix it better, and it'll be much smoother. Fun. SurreptitiousMuffin A lot of plot in fewer words, and that's good, but overall it feels like I can't quite connect the narrator with the character, something feels off. Fun. Sitting Here This is another good example of a good moment, but it feels a bit overlong. While the dialogue is great, I can't say all of it feels equally engaging. Dunn/Full/Flurgh something in between. toanoradian This feels really fragmented and there's way too much telling. Too much passive voice as well. There's some good pieces in here, but they're buried. Dull. Fanky Malloons The transcript format feels completely pointless here. If you're going for that, give it a little more back and forth. As it stands now, it limits the stor. Dull. Canadian Surf Club This is also a nice slice of life, but like Sitting Here, you could have cut without hurting the story. The ending is good, but it's made too abrupt by the load of the words before it. Dunnfull. swaziloo This is awesome and--for lack of a better term--mesmerizing. Good use of language and dialogue. Fun. HiddenGecko Too abstract and too many cliches, thought there are some interesting things buried in here, and it's creepy in a good way. Dunnfull. Autumncomet This is a good slice of life. It feels informed, and it's just drat interesting. Fun. Wrageowrapper This is a thing, and I guess I could ape you and say that it's sets itse Capntastic "She set the heavy stack of two boxes she was carrying down on the kitchen counter, taking a second to turn around and shut the door properly, before sliding the top box off, laying them down side to side. She called for Darcy to come out to the kitchen with no response. She used the fingernail on her thumb to cut through the beige piece of cellulose tape and opened the first box. It was packed tight with wiry straw, like a nest. Deeper inside was something smooth and white, and this was what she dug out. It was a Belmont radio, a beautiful thing with a pristine Bakelite shell. It was the cleanest thing in the house. "Come and look at 'em!", she called to her sister. She began unpacking the second one, knowing her sister wasn't feeling up to it for whatever reason. It was one of those nights." vs. "She set the stack of two boxes down on the counter, taking a second to shut the door behind her before she laid the boxes side to side. A call for Darcy; no response. She cut the beige tape with her fingernail and opened the first box. Deep inside the nest of straw was something smooth and white; a beautiful Belmont Radio with a pristine Bakelite shell. She called again, "Come and look at 'em!". She unpacked the second knowing Darcy wasn't feeling up to it, it was one of those nights." The point is that this took me a minute and half, regardless if it's an improvement or not. You have too many words. Dull Noah There is something genuinely creepy about this, and I really like it. loving twins, man. Fun. sebmojo It's interesting, but it feels a bit jumbled. Still, a fine enough tale. Fun. Dr. Kloctopussy This is some weird poo poo. It's also boring in its briefness, and though none should aspire to write more than necessary, it just feels blunt and sudden. Dull. Black Griffon How the gently caress did I write this? Kill me now. Dull. Y Kant Ozma Post Short and so sweet, with dialogue and prose that's just wonderfully ugly. Makes me glad I never met these women. Fun. So there you have it. A good week, to be honest. Notes: Infected Mushroom is not the right companion music to these pieces, and dunnfull is now a word.
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Oct 1, 2012 11:18
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 Thunderdome Week IX: Old Sex/Lawn SoundsJudges: Black Griffon, budgieinspector, Y Kant Ozma Post. Alright dipshits, time to get this show on the road. Prompt: Write an espionage tale where the youngest character is a septuagenarian. Must include a love interest. We don't give a poo poo if it's in the style of Bond, Bourne or loving biblical, but young people are terrible. gently caress 'em. One character under seventy this week, and we'll bolt your worthless rear end to the bottom of a truck and go off-road. Length: 1000 words or fewer. Signup Deadline: Thursday, Oct. 4, 1:00 AM PDT Submission Deadline: Saturday, Oct. 6, 1:00 AM PDT Special Rule for Special DipshitsThis time around, we won't hold your hand and lead you to water, but if you can give us proof you've sent the story to any publisher on Duotrope, there'll be extra points. Get to it. List of gently caress: toanoradian The Saddest Rhino Noah Zack_Gochuck Sitting Here HiddenGecko swaziloo Canadian Surf Club The Swinemaster areyoucontagious BirdOfPlay Dr. Kloctopussy Bad Seafood Capntastic dromer sebmojo justcola
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Oct 2, 2012 08:54
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Tonsured posted:Is a sexagenarian too young? I mean 69 has to be close enough right??? I will rip your loving throat out.
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Oct 2, 2012 15:50
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Fourteen so far. What the gently caress is wrong with you people? 
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Oct 3, 2012 01:43
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This week has been a bad massage I need a happy ending I think all of you dickholes are channeling your characters, slow rear end, old motherfuckers.
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Oct 5, 2012 23:08
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toanoradian posted:If I showed my proof that I posted it to a Duotrope journal later, (probably after the deadline) will it count? Depends on how drunk we are around deadline, I would guess.
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Oct 6, 2012 05:21
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budgieinspector posted:Sitting Here This is sad. Just loving sad. Engaging Judge Mode.
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Oct 6, 2012 13:52
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Zack_Gochuck You're a weirdo, but I kind of like it. Still, there's not much too the story, in fact, there's nothing. You've established so many funny and interesting things, and then it just ends. Total anticlimax. Super bonus for submitting! Canadian Surf Club I don't like the word "for" in a sentence like "He poured under the light of the small desk lamp they sat by for it was past the sleeping hour and all the lights in the Berlin home were dark". It's dumb and archaic and you shouldn't. Too many run-on sentences. Other than that, I really like the dialogue. Happy points in plenty for submitting! areyoucontagious God, this is boring. It's formulaic, the dialogue is cheesy and yeah. Bleh. Horse with a horn on its forehead happy points for submitting! The Swinemaster Holy crap, this was unexpected. It's weird, maybe a little bit too obscure, but I really like it. justcola Disturbing and funny at the same time. Flow could be improved, but this is good. Happy happy happy for submitting! V for Vegas Bonus points for a gay couple, but then again I might be biased. Minus points for terrible exposition laden dialogue and weird formatting. Noah It's a gay bonanza! This is a very pretty story, but it doesn't feel like there's much espionage of any kind. swaziloo The story is fine enough, but it feels kind of empty and the ending is dull and abrupt. Happy man am I for wonderful submitting! dromer Language is ruddy, and the plot is weak, but bonus points for some originality. toanoradian God drat it toanoradian we're gonna have to Clockwork Orange your rear end with a ten volume work about tenses. This is way worse than usual too. Do something about it! Joy of many suns for submitting! Dr. Kloctopussy It's a strong story, and I like the Bond angle, but it feels like there should be more to it. I want you to continue this one if you're up for it. sebmojo Short, strong and wonderful. Nothing more to say. The Saddest Rhino The sex scene is hilarious, but other than that the story feels gimmicky, and you haven't got the old man language down. Bad Seafood The story is too tangled, but it's sweet, and that last line quite honestly amazing. Might be my favorite line in the Thunderdome so far.
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Oct 8, 2012 05:20
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Winner is unanimous, we're still considering the loser. sebmojo, for an excellent story and a wonderful demonstration in how to make a whole lot out of a few words, you are the victor. Grind the bones of your enemies, take a cup of their blood and sit back and relax. If any of the veteran judges wish to return, say so. Otherwise, we'll figure out who sebmojo replaces.
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Oct 8, 2012 16:14
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And we are all agreed that areyoucontagious is the loser this round, for a boring bunch of bad words. Boo this man. Boo.
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Oct 8, 2012 16:54
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Also, bud is stepping away this week, so the judges are me, Ozma and sebmojo (unless a veteran claims a spot). And apparently I'm unable to say several things in one post today.
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Oct 8, 2012 17:28
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What the hell, User CP apparently hosed itself (or I hosed up but that wouldn't be possible because I'm a judge and gently caress you). So anyway; sign the gently caress up you useless shitheads! gently caress, even I'll sign up because I'm so loving awesome. Edit: Also; what the gently caress is wrong with your deadlines seb?
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Oct 9, 2012 23:21
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Needless to say, signup deadline is not Thursday 4th, just sign the hell up and we'll figure it out.
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Oct 9, 2012 23:52
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Transgressive romances are romances that break social norms and acceptability. And we have tons of ideas of what modern day high-fantasy could be, but we're not telling, because when we have tons of ideas, you idiots should be able to come up with one.
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Oct 10, 2012 00:06
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No one will ever get points for being quick off the mark because it's retarded. Look at the first story submitted every week. None of them have won, and although not all of them are terrible, they've all missed something. The best ideas are worth dwelling on, if only for a few days. Sure, you can put down good words in half an hour, but they won't be the best. Take your loving time you idiots, you're not impressing anyone.
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Oct 12, 2012 11:02
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Edit: gently caress
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Oct 15, 2012 01:25
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That's what I get for impressing chicks with my ukulele last night. It can be innuendo if you really want it to be.
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Oct 15, 2012 01:28
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Martello posted:Yes, you miserable little fucks read Sitting Here's post correctly. I'm back in motherfucking business. While I still type these words with calloused thumbs on the sand-scratched touchscreen of my Thunderbolt, by Wednesday night all five of my fearsome fingers will again fall like avenging hammers upon the blank black keys of my Das Ultimate S. Billy Talent's "Viking Death March" will blast from THX-certified 5.1 surround speakers. A glass of Middle Ages Grail Ale will sit dark and foamy upon my desk. No unholy clothes will adorn my freshly-washed form. Lift a couch, bitch. I'm in.
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Oct 15, 2012 08:09
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Fanky Malloons posted:Aughh, I wish I could do this one, but I have so much poo poo going on this week. Bah. Sounds official. drat, I need to win this one. Judging was fun.
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Oct 15, 2012 15:02
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My head is chock full of bleakness and gently caress, but for some reason I just don't feel like I'm channeling it. Closer to Mother - 598 words Sometimes I’d set the children to work on the mine clearing. Their emaciated frames would look like short strands of hair on the bleak horizon. "We need to take some of them across the city," said Vander, droning it into collar and clenching jaw audibly every time he hit a consonant. I could hear teeth cracking a little more every time he spoke. "For what?" A child went up in flames. Dull, brown explosion flashed. The blood would stick to the air, and the bits which rained down would look like they'd spent a thousand years in the desert. "It's for the best. It's good for them, good for something." "Across the field lies the mother. They'll find peace there." "They'll find death. She'll make them one with this thrice-damned country. They deserve better." I drew my hand across my mouth, dry skin stung and cracked. Six years since I'd tasted water, five years since I'd seen it. "The children, more than any of them, belong to this country." They were getting closer to her throne every day. Like a slow shadow, the rest of the people followed. Ranks upon ranks of specters, anticipating release. We could see her in the horizon. I knew her so well. She waited for us in anticipation, ready to embrace her children. "You don't know her," he said, "You think you do, but what you know isn't true." "I've seen her. I know her." "I hunted her once. Threaded the minefield. Nothing like what your flock is doing now. I came across her as she devoured another flock." "She liberates them." "No, no she doesn't. She was like a factory. Do you remember them? How they were? She was like a factory as she took them and turned them to dust. We breathe them right now." A pair went up at the same time. Dust drifted towards us. I could feel the urge and thirst so much more. The animal inside me which had starved and died chose to stir, and I wanted to crush Vander. Break his skull and feed him to the children. "This country is us. We will always be part of it, and if she can make us into the very air, it's an honor greater than any." "Fine," he said, and waited until another flash before he struck me down. The ringing in my ears which had followed me for years turned into a choir, and the prickling dots of light in the corners of my eyes turned into pillars. I hit the ground, tasted ash. Few noticed, none cared. I was the northern wind, pushing them towards their goal, but only nature, nothing more. Enter south. A thousand voices begged for attention in my head, but at the end of the day, they were all me. None stronger than I, and they crawled into the corners and waited for death. Just like me. The southern wind spoke. Louder than the ringing in my ears, louder than the earthquakes. Like grass, the flock turned and followed, towards the city and the darkness of arches and toppled monoliths. I wanted them to stay on the plains, under the dull light. There was a finite amount of freedom to be found in this country, and to be dust on the plains the best I could think of. And they would meet her. Instead, they would crawl into the corners of the city, lose themselves in the dark cracks and bask in the claustrophobia. I couldn't save a single one. At least I stayed on the plains. 
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Oct 19, 2012 10:29
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