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... Why did I write "Droning it into collar"? What does that even mean?
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Oct 22, 2012 21:32
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| # ¿ Jun 24, 2025 21:46 |
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Right in.
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Oct 23, 2012 00:40
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I was on a wonderful date, so I give exactly no fucks about being late. Editing this with that in mind is kind of disturbing, considering the subject matter. Creative Soul - 286 words They dance again tonight. He leads and she follows From bedroom to kitchen and into the living room Bang into the table and it'll bruise a little, but she keeps her legs covered. Long skirts Waltz into the wall where her throat will bruise, but if the makeup won't cover it she'll wear a scarf It's the cold season, he says He laughs, even while the bruises are fresh. It's a joke; of course it's not cruel We joke about everything, we've always done that Of course we have I love you When he goes up to the bedroom to think, she breaks down by the bookcases Right in the corner where there's a little crook The shadow covers her, safe somehow She'll grab a book, Henning Mankell Wishes it could take her back Study hall, and she's reading Mankell So is he Tomorrow she'll find another excuse He knows she always does. Last time it was the past He knows he can always rely on the oldest trick Bloody pair of panties in a restaurant, cramps as they were eating Ruined a nice dinner Ruined Sam. Samantha. Whatever It didn't last long enough, they never figured out what to call it Her fault Tomorrow he'll be calm. That's how it always is But she'll keep her distance, try to tell him Something But she won't win this one And for some reason, his arms will comfort her The oldest trick is boring. He'll find another way to break her, maybe tomorrow He enjoys the creative exercise She'll expect him to be calm She'll expect his arms, he laughs at the obvious joke It's only eight in the evening, he's not finished.
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Oct 27, 2012 23:27
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Jeza posted:Black Griffon Martello posted:"Creative Soul" Sitting Here posted:Black Griffon-Creative soul Well, this feedback makes me very happy, even if I didn't win. Also, priorities? She lifts, so at least Martello should approve of me not giving any fucks about being late. And lastly: Heh, balls.
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Oct 30, 2012 00:49
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Hey hey hey hey. Thunderdome everyday. (In)
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Oct 30, 2012 23:43
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gently caress off I celebrated that me and my mates finished this sodding project. YEAH YEAH EXCUSES, read the loving story.  Insurance - 565 words People had a way of showing how little they cared when they tried to seem sympathetic. The cashier was just that way. "God, it's so long since we've seen you in church. How did your last visit to the doctor go?" Sara didn't mind the casher, but she would have been happier with a simple "Thank you, good bye". "Fine." "Well it's such a shame, you know? With the health care and all that, making life difficult for everyone." Sara smiled and nodded. Ray ran back and forth among the aisles, but still in sight. Aisha clutched her mother's hand. Sara had a bad habit of doing addition in her head when she worried, and the numbers were way too high today. She'd expected the letter from the insurance company to be bright red, alarming and telling of the contents. Instead, it was a plain envelope. Doom in neutral white. Someone screamed death to all niggers and looked straight in the eyes. Turned and threw something away. She had a small moment where she thought about how silly it was that a soup can almost knocked her senseless when sound and dust rushed in. Sara still clutched letter in pocket when the bullets tore the whole foods aisle apart. Screams echoed around, joined the thunder. The other hand now clutched Aisha, and there was a mounting feeling of dread unlike anything Sara had ever felt. Smoke puffs popped from the ground, and strange whistling filled ears as eyes searched for Ray. She found him three aisles down; he knelt among crushed oranges, such unimaginable fear on his face that Sara couldn't imagine a thousand quiet whispers to calm him down. She picked up Aisha and ran, the store exploded around her. Something snagged her leg, and she fell, holding onto Aisha for dear life. Ray, tears streaming, stood up and walked towards Sara, and she screamed and screamed with every step he took. A few weeks later, a cell phone photo would make the front page on papers around the world. A young mother clutching a child screams as her son walks towards her. In the background, one of the shooters, skull shaved and eyes red from "combat drugs", raises his weapon. Everyone cared and no one cared. She wanted to shake the world with her screams, tear the angels from their lofty vantage and make them say "We're sorry, we're here now," but all that could not save him. When the shotgun blast laid him down, Sara thought "So little blood," and imagined he wasn't even hit. The cell phone picture which never made the papers was the one where Sara knelt, mangled body before her, daughter clutched but not well enough. Shooter prepared for a second shot. We'd show you this, but let's not overdo reality. The pain from the second blast was red lightning tearing across retinas, a hundred thick balls of lead moved up veins and an arm throbbed with dull pain. She imagined the angels had silenced the world only for a moment, just so she could turn and see her arm hanging by slivers of skin and muscle, clutching Aisha as the rose on her chest spread from shirt to floor. A small red line made its way towards her, following the tiles. She clutched the crumpled letter in pocket, counted in her head just to avoid everything.
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Nov 4, 2012 07:04
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Previously, at least the judges got the benefit of moldy old office chairs, though always running the risk of the support column giving them a quickie. That was then. Chairchucker.
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Nov 6, 2012 04:38
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Martello posted:Insurance Black Griffon I just wanted you to gently caress off and not gently caress off at the same time, but I guess someone has some growing up to do. 
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Nov 6, 2012 21:50
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Noah posted:titles count as words in thunderdome. I was just about to post this. So many losers.  Also, did I say I was in? Because I am. Edit: "I was just about to post this" I type, and forget to post it for half an hour.
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Nov 9, 2012 01:30
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Article from the Denver Post, 12.20.12 - 223 words The man found dead near Lake Arbor Tuesday night has been identified as Peter Banner by Denver police. Police suspect no foul play, but the investigation is being kept open while the police follow up any remaining leads. Police declined to comment on the cause of death when contacted by Denver Post, but independent sources speculate that Banner froze to death in an attempt to live in Lake Arbor Park. "The strange thing is that he had a nice house. Nice car and looked well off," said Sarah Fines, who has lived in Banner's neighborhood for fifteen years. Campaign signs from the last presidential campaign are still in Banner's yard, more than a month since President Obama earned his second term. Fines speculates Banner might have felt uncomfortable in the changing neighborhood, “You know how it is. This neighborhood has changed a lot since I moved here. Twelve years ago we all voted Bush, this year we all voted Obama. We didn’t know much about Banner, we saw he didn’t change much.” It remains to be seen what the police say, but another neighbor who declined to give his name told the Post that Banner had an altercation with a family member shortly before he “moved out”. The Post will follow the story and welcomes any tips.
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Nov 11, 2012 22:02
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Toaster Beef posted:You were two minutes late. I'm only allowing your entry because I just got back from Skyfall and I'm feeling chipper. You poo poo. I was going to submit it on the dot just for the gently caress of it, but my internet crapped out and everything turned into a failure.
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Nov 11, 2012 22:45
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drat it, drat it all to hell. My shame knows no bounds.  Edit: What's that site to see your previous avatars again? Edit2: I carry my shame for a very short time.
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Nov 13, 2012 18:09
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Got my response from ThunderDome magazine today. Form rejection, but even that's exciting to me. Of course I'm mostly interested to see if anyone else have gotten a response. Also, of course I'm in. I have to redeem myself somehow. EDIT: gently caress; CONGRATULATIONS! You deserved that!
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Nov 15, 2012 05:24
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Congrats! All this makes me genuinely happy. I think we can consider that the best week in TD history now.  Jeza posted:Congrats! Is this some massive name coincidence or is this the namesake of this here Thunderdome as well? When we did that week, we considered a lot of magazines for submission, but decided that ThunderDome had both a good prompt and a perfect name. Edit: This post, to be exact: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3499761&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=32#post407989301
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Nov 15, 2012 05:37
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Jesus loving Christ. Requesting namechange to "Some d00dz enter, most of them win". gently caress, change the name of the subforum. Come the gently caress on. You guys are the best.
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Nov 15, 2012 05:45
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The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > budgieinspector is the worst psychic ever > Flash Fiction Thunderdome - Some d00dz enter, most of them leave.
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Nov 15, 2012 06:54
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Scratch that. Change Creative Convention to Thunderdome, simple as that. Congratulations everyone, you've made a slightly lovely day into a very happy one. 
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Nov 15, 2012 07:07
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(http://www1.rollingstone.com/hearitnow/player/neilfinn.html) Ladies, gentlemen; Something is happening in these forums. Stones long untouched are stirring, gates and walls are torn apart, and into the void between the forums, a beast rides the ebb and flow of eternal bytes. It casts itself from island to island, absorbing posters with its great bulk and changing them into something else, something new. It cares not for the petty squabbles of insignificant sub-forums. Like a law of nature, it rides forth on wings of poultry skin, trailing curdled milk and the fading cinders of bell peppers. The captive posters continue their pointless squabbles, but they are swallowed into the deafening silence of a bread-like gut. An aura of salt, pepper and tomato sauce muffles the derails, the complaints and the worthless cries of detractors. My fellow contestants. Beasts have been slaughtered. Cheese have been made. Shame has turned to victory. And when this beasts breaks the walls of Creative Convention, shall we cover in the corners and post pictures of our pets like PI? Shall we tear our hair and start derails like GBS? Nay, we shall not. We will meet this beast head on, like the proud warriors we are. My dear companions: I have been to that wondrous land from whence the beast named Chickencheese hails. I have seen the fields of sous-vide and the oceans of pureed broccoli. I have watched as the warriors of Goons With Spoons tamed the beast in its primal state, brought glory to its matted fur and returned from battle not as Goons With Spoons, but as Goons With Chickencheese. It is this brotherhood you can join. An alliance of Thunderdome contestants and Chickencheese makers. - I see it now, before my eyes through blurred vision. A mead hall where the fire burns strong, a pot of tomato sauce and chicken stirred by steady hand, the tales of battles unimaginable told by calm and loud voice. Warriors of a thousand battles and tellers of a thousand stories. Chefs of untold dishes and authors of incredible works. I see me there, I see you. I see us all, and I see even more. Orators from D&D debate the finer points of the cheese trade, the bards of NMD spin songs from dreams, and the voices of every other forum fill the spaces between ballads and tales. I see victory, and it is you who will lead us there. All of you. But to do that, we must make Chickencheese. I do not know when this beast will arrive, the paths of its journey are mysterious to me, but we must be ready when it comes. Sharpen your knives, prepare your cutting boards. We will ride this beast to the distant heavens. At the gates of the Goldmine we will have our rest. - I know what you're thinking. "Black Griffon has gone mad," you say, "His fall--his recent loss--has turned his mind to mush." Know this, my co-contestants. I do not stand for this message alone, I do not bring you this on only my own two legs. The hidden council has determined that this command shall be brought before you, and those members, esteemed and mysterious, have considered this a worthy task. Remember you battles in this thread, and the recent victories by LordEarlVonDuke, The Saddest Rhino, budgieinspector, Dr. Kloctopussy and Bad Seafood. We are the strongest warriors of CC, and it is for CC we fight. We will make chickencheese.
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Nov 15, 2012 08:33
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(https://youtu.be/p5mmFPyDK_8) Harken to me, gladiators. I hope your minds are busy with the thoughts of juicy chicken and delicious cheese. The council has decided that the true and right form of chickencheese worship is the battle hymn. Interpret it whichever way you want. Remember that we are warriors, and we will act like it. Prepare yourselves accordingly. I have no words for the shame that will befall those who refuse this order. When we meet the beast, we will meet it as one. The council has spoken. Kleptobot posted:Aw poo poo, suddenly I'm feeling better about the chickencheese than the story. Still gonna try to do both though. This brave warrior has the right idea. Martello posted:The actual chickencheese thread which I found on my own and didn't get a secret message from SuperstitiousRuffian about it from his self-imposed probation-exile where he plans the downfall of Sitting Here and his own meteoric rise to power. The thread was linked perfectly well in the initial post, and I found it in GWC long before all of you all.
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Nov 16, 2012 05:17
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2012 - 717 words The drive out in the desert took a few hours; most spent decoding the puzzle the weird men had given them. Emily drove, Victoria screamed and nearly threw the black plate out the window. Emily touched her cheek, made her calm. "gently caress it, right?" Victoria smiled, "gently caress it." She returned to the puzzle. Shapes and words which never got any more comprehensible. She shifted them around, tried to speak the words. An indicator showed the puzzle picked up voice, but nothing happened. The strange men had told them the end of the world happened everywhere at once, but it still felt like they tried to outrun it. Emily looked to the side, letting the unconscious do the driving along the straight desert road. The desert rose in waves, escaping the atmosphere. It formed bands, like northern lights. Amazing golden sheets rose impossibly high. All around the car, their little sphere of existence remained normal, and for some reason that felt even more wrong. In front, the road remained straight. Right because of purpose, intent made reality real. A soft hum filled the car, and Victoria let out a triumphant scream. Emily stepped on the brakes, stopped the car in a clumsy skid. "What does it say?" Victoria stared at it for some time, mouthed words. She looked up at Emily, "Says it's all us." "Us as in us? We two?" "No, humanity, 'and more'. I don't know what they mean by that." Emily turned in her seat, desperate eyes, "But what do they mean it's all us. All our fault?" "Yeah. We believed too hard, made things real." "But people have believed crazy poo poo for ages, how is this any different? People have believed the world would end every drat year." "Adds up I guess." Victoria looked pale, Emily turned to look where she looked. They'd found them. "gently caress it," said Victoria, the words weak and barely audible. "gently caress it." They stepped out of the car, approached the men, Victoria with puzzle in hand. The strange men, naked except for silver crowns shaped like branches. The air whispered around them, hummed and hurt. "We've solved it," said Victoria. "Did you understand it?" It was the voice of a thousand cities falling into the ocean, the moon disintegrating and escaping to the sun. Emily and Victoria hated it, but found it held everything they knew about home. Every other piece of reality was so fragmented and torn it barely resembled the world as it had been. "We believed too much, reality had an overdose." "Do you know how to solve it?" "We can't stop believing," said Emily, "It's impossible. White bears and all that. Ask us to stop and we'll just believe harder." "You killed a man a few days ago," said the man, "Alex Mercer." "Had to happen, he had something wrong in him, something that turned him into a beast." "He had one of us in him, one of our spirits." "Well there you go, just as bad." In the distance, a mountain range sank into the ground, sent plumes of dirt and sand into the sky. Stars stretched like time-lapse photography. "We kept him safe, and by extension; you." "You kept him enslaved." "A fair price to pay. If you'd stopped killing our vessels, we might have saved this universe." Victoria sat down on the car's hood and Emily stared at the ground. "But you attacked the wrong problem," he said, "And now you're paying the price." "What'll happen?" "Eventually, your grip on reality will falter, all that will be left will be two floating bodies, and time will slow until you might as well be gone." "How do we fix it?" "Let us in." Victoria threw the puzzle to the ground and screamed "This can't be happening". And Emily figured it out. She walked over to the car, Victoria looked at her. "What are you doing," she said. Emily said nothing, reached in to grab her gun and walked back. Emily shot Victoria in the neck. She'd say something like "It isn't happening", but she didn't, though it wasn't. In the distance, the sand fell to the earth without a sound, and the desert was just a desert, and the world wasn't ending. But Emily wondered if it would again if she saved her.
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Nov 17, 2012 10:15
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Jeza posted:Huh. That was some weird poo poo. Pretty sure I just wrote some kind of meta-slice of life. I was really pumped to make chickencheese to go with my entry but, alas, life conspires against me. We won't make chickencheese in here, silly, that'd be like dropping a bomb on your own house. The beast approaches still.
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Nov 17, 2012 19:14
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gently caress IT, SPONTANEOUS FIGHT. Come at me, both of you! HAIKU! - Thunder in the dome Rebel minds with wayward thoughts Fight without a cause
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Nov 17, 2012 19:55
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One day will arrive When we forget chickencheese But it is not yet
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Nov 19, 2012 01:22
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For the sake of gently caress Are you fuckers drunk again? Get your rear end in gear
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Nov 19, 2012 13:36
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Happy birthday then But one day will come when he Finds the internet
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Nov 19, 2012 16:49
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Sour grapes Noah Won't even show an haiku Established fight, bitch
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Nov 20, 2012 01:05
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Oh my. Only people with actual losertars or just people who have lost in the past?
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Nov 20, 2012 21:18
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That's right, Chickencheese Prophet and judge of your worthless asses. Get loving to it.
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Nov 21, 2012 15:11
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Turnout this week is pretty loving disappointing. You are all losers in my eyes.Sitting Here posted:Black Griffon-2012 I do write longer stuff, but I haven't posted any yet (I'll have to get my rear end in gear and do that). Funnily enough, this story uses the main characters of a short I posted in one of our monthly contests. I wasn't too happy with the short, but I loved the characters, so I figured I'd try to use them again. That might be part of the reason it feels too big. I feel like some of my other pieces could be extended as well, so I've thought about doing just that. Fanky Malloons posted:Black Griffon - 2012 Yeah, a few hours after I posted the story, I realized I'd messed up the end. The idea was that something so completely unbelievable as the betrayal from her best friend (lover? Maybe?) would cause Victoria to kickstart reality again. But I realized after I'd written it that it didn't make much sense, and if I was going for the mythical idea about That One Sacrifice, I didn't make it clear enough. Also: your kind words make me happy.
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Nov 23, 2012 21:31
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Oxxidation posted:(incidentally, The Saddest Rhino's piece was the winner in my mind) Incidentally, the other judges thought the opposite.  I thought it was fine though, so a loser it was not, but definitively no winner material, which again points to Muff's point about the playing field getting level. Specific crits will be up.
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Nov 27, 2012 07:44
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Jeg vurderer å ta all kritikken på norsk sånn som dere holder på.
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Nov 27, 2012 09:01
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THUNDERDOME! IT IS TIME. Go forth. And remember the rules: In the form of a Battle Hymn. Do not loving disappoint me, Domers. Do not loving dare.
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Nov 28, 2012 01:09
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| # ¿ Jun 24, 2025 21:46 |
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Speaking of crit, are the other judges from last week going to give us anything? I was hit with poo poo tons of schoolwork and a terrible flu at the same time, I'll see if I can finish my crits soonish
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Nov 29, 2012 23:45
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