|
  E: whoops 
curlingiron fucked around with this message at 03:45 on Sep 18, 2015 |
#
¿
Sep 18, 2015 03:26
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 19, 2024 20:22 |
|
|
 CURLINGHERE BRAWLBOWL I Assistant Coaching Position 1093 words It was 5 pm when the football slammed into my testicles. I doubled over and tried not to vomit as Brayden ran up to me. “poo poo, dude, are you okay?” He was slightly out of breath from the brief sprint; I made a mental note to start him jogging the next day. “I’m fine,” I said, straightening up with some effort. “And don’t let Mom hear you talk like that.” “Whatever,” he said, grabbing the football from where it had landed after bouncing off of my balls. “At least the ball reached you this time, right?” “Unfortunately. Let’s try for shoulder-height next time. Now go long.” My phone buzzed as Brayden pumped his skinny legs down the field. I threw the ball and pulled it out, hoping I wouldn’t get nailed again while I was distracted. Given Brayden’s current track record for accurate throwing, I wasn’t especially worried, though. “Are you two planning on coming back anytime soon, or should I send your sister out there with rations?” My mother’s voice was tired on the other side of the phone. “Ah, geez, Mom, I’m sorry. I can get us something on the way home if that would be easier on you.” Brayden was still fumbling after the ball; I waved at him to start heading back. “And waste the pizza I slaved to pick up after work? I don’t think so.” “Okay, we’ll be back in ten or so.” I hung up as Brayden reached me. “Come on, it’s dinner time.” “Please tell me it’s something other than pizza.” “Hey, no whining,” I said. “You know how it’s been lately.” “I know, I just never thought I’d be so sick of pizza.” I laughed. “Tell you what, I’ll make you an eggplant casserole if you make the team, deal?” “Ugh, I’m not THAT sick of pizza. I can’t believe Dad likes that stuff.” He paused. “Well... liked.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, I know. C’mon, Mom’s waiting.” *** It was 5 am when I pounded on Brayden’s door the next day. “Time to go running!” I yelled. It took a while, but I eventually got him out of bed. “This sucks,” Brayden said, as we started out around the neighborhood. “Why do we have to get up so early? And why can’t I have breakfast first?” “Because it’ll be too hot to run soon,” I said. “And you don’t want to start running on a full stomach. Trust me on this one.” “Can’t we go back to throwing practice?” “What do you think we’re doing after we get back?” “You know you’re going to kill me, right?” “Better me than the guy trying to tackle you! Come on, I’ll race you to the next corner.” “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” “Watch it!” *** It was 3 pm and Brayden still hadn’t caught a pass. We’d been at it for a month or so - he could reliably throw the ball to me over short distances, and he was getting better at longer ones. The weight training was progressing slowly, but I expected that. I could tell Brayden was getting frustrated, though. I called across the field. “Hey, maybe we should do another obstacle run, take a break for a while?” “One more!” he yelled back. “Okay, start running!” I threw the ball and watched as it arced through the air towards him, corkscrewing along its path. Brayden ran underneath it, watching it start its descent. As he stretched out his arms, I could feel my muscles twitch in sympathetic motion with his. Come on, come on. He almost had it when he tripped. What would have been a perfect catch ended up hitting him square in the face. I felt my chest freeze as he fell head-first into the grass. “poo poo!” I took off across the field towards him, leaving a contrail of profanity. Brayden sat up with his hand to his face, and I could see that his glasses had come off when he got hit. I started scanning the ground frantically for them as I knelt down next to him. “Are you okay? poo poo! I’m so sorry.” “I’m fine, just don’t step on my glasses.” Brayden pushed himself to his feet, and I saw the red streaking down his hand. “Oh Christ, you’re bleeding.” I fumbled in my pockets for something to mop up the blood. “poo poo, Mom’s gonna kill me. I never should have agreed to help you with this, you’re gonna get hurt and it’s gonna be my fault. poo poo, poo poo!” “gently caress you, Colby!” Brayden shoved me, and I fell back. “It’s not your job to make sure I never get hurt! I get to choose whether or not I do this, not you!” The blood stained his teeth as he shouted. “Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I just know that I’m screwing this up, and you’re the one who’s gonna pay for it. I’m not as good at this as Dad was, okay?” “I don’t want you to be as good as Dad! You can’t loving replace him!” He wiped his nose, and his arm streaked red. “I just want to play some football with my stupid rear end in a top hat brother!” We sat and stared at each other. Brayden’s nosebleed was slowing down, and tears were cutting tracks down his face. “...You’re right. I’m sorry.” I stood up and dusted off my pants, looking at the ground. I spotted his glasses a few feet away, and picked them up. “Hey, at least your glasses aren’t broken.” I handed them to him. “You want to call it a day?” He wiped his face on his sleeve before putting his glasses on. “I want to try for another pass.” He caught it this time. *** It was 7 am and we were walking to tryouts. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know,” I said. Brayden was eating a PowerBar as we walked; I was too nervous to eat. “Dude, shut up. I want to do this. I know I’m not going to get a scholarship like you or anything, but… I don’t know, I always imagined myself playing in high school.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just nervous.” He laughed. “And you think I’m not? I mean, it’s not like there’s any chance YOU won’t make the cut.” “Yeah, but it won’t be the same now if I have to play without you.” “Whatever. C’mon, we’re almost there.” *** It was 4 pm when we found out he’d made the team. I made eggplant casserole to celebrate. It was pretty good, actually.
|
|
#
¿
Sep 25, 2015 07:15
|
|
|
Hello! My name is curlingiron and I will be judging this week. Although you may know me from writing In light of this, please be aware that if at any time during your story I feel as though I am reading the transcript of an After School Special, or that you have pulled from the Shadowy Closet of Two-Dimensional Teen Stereotypes, I will vote to DM you. Remember: children are terrible, but they are rarely terrible in the ways that (lazy) media portrays them.
|
|
#
¿
Sep 29, 2015 01:07
|
|
|
If crabrock's Ivory Tower bullshit flash rules are too fancy for you, feel free to ask for a secondary-level flash rule from me. I ain't givin' 'em to ya if you got one from crabs, though. SAN DIMAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL RULES!
|
|
#
¿
Oct 1, 2015 03:51
|
|
|
Fuschia tude posted:Yeah gimme an Ebony Dungeon bullshit flash rule then, teas and plank yew. Sometimes I like to go read students' old discipline reports, but I really hate it when they don't give me any juicy details in the event description. In your story, someone is in trouble at school, and I drat well want to know why.
|
|
#
¿
Oct 1, 2015 06:25
|
|
|
Broenheim posted:ill loving sports the gently caress out of you (unless curlingiron or someone else wants to) I'm good. Knock yourself out. Or crabrock. Whatever. Edit: also thanks for the crit, Ty, and for reading our weakling jock words.
|
|
#
¿
Oct 1, 2015 21:35
|
|
|
Ovaltine posted:I'll take one of these, please! It was a yearbook photo no one would forget. No matter how hard they tried.
|
|
#
¿
Oct 3, 2015 04:44
|
|
|
WeLandedOnTheMoon! posted:HEY BITCHBOYS, CONTINUING IN THE THEME OF SPOOKYBRAWLS, I AM THROWING OUT AN OPEN CHALLENGE TO ANYONE WHO THINKS THEY CAN TAKE ME DOWN IN A HALLOWEEN THEMED TEEN SLASHER BRAWL Mind if I join in? 
|
|
#
¿
Oct 4, 2015 00:46
|
|
|
School Week Judgeburps: I Don't Know, Either Trade-Offs I… guess this was okay? I dunno, I really didn’t care about anything that was happening. I had some minor pathos for the girl the main character was watching, but the model/academic stuff made no sense. The climactic scene didn’t really land, and your ending was pretty “eh,” but you… Had stuff happen, I guess? IDK, man. 1087 words This was weird and creepy, and not in a good way. Also, you apparently couldn’t decide if middle school was two or four years long (it’s three years long, for the record, even if it’s the junior high model). I couldn’t tell if you were going for scary or poignant, but you failed at both. Also, your dialogue is bad and you should feel bad. Just because the kids clutter their actual speech with “like” does not mean that you really need to put it in there. I voted to DM, but was overruled. Covering the Spread I… don’t get this story. I’m sorry. I also really, really don’t care. This was confusing and hamfisted. Everyone in your story was either awful or incredibly gullible. Sometimes both! Roses Your character is a stupid caricature and I hate this story. Not even a story. Barely a vignette. I don’t care about this, but in a bland and apathetic way. Flame Oh my god, loving twist ending I HATE YOU SO MUCH. HATEHATEHATEHATE To give you a little more feedback, you're a little clunky, and the twist ending is an easy mistake for a newbie to make. I think that if you clean up your act you'll do fine in the Dome, you just have some common errors to mend. June 3rd, 6th Period Okay, gonna come clean, I knew this was you, sh, despite judgemode, I’m probably biased, but this story made me laugh, and made me feel better after a lovely week/weekend/evening. It’s fluffy, and dumb, and I like it. I also couldn't make it through 10 minutes talking to kids about an experiment involving bouncy balls without losing my poo poo laughing, though, so maybe take that into account. What Tinies Do Technically, physics is applied calculus, not geometry, but there’s quite a bit of trig in there, too, so I’ll let this one slide. Okay, this is a pretty classic example of “thing happen, so what.” I guess there’s something going on with Bigs versus Tinies, kind of like the Borrowers or something? I don’t know, I think you really overreached on this one, and it didn’t much work out for you. Graduation I liked the ending on this one. Your prose in general was pretty okay, but at times seemed somehow both flat and overwrought. I didn’t really feel Eric’s fear at all. This was the first story with an odd premise this week that I was into, so good job on that. I would have liked to see a little more emotion out of this, but otherwise a reasonably solid piece. Practice Makes Perfect P. sure most cello players don’t wear skirts for exactly this reason. I actually like this, but I think it lacks a little bit of magic for me. I dunno. Good job with writing an actual story, though. Junior Has the Spirits These are some really, really good words. I wish that you had written an ending to go with them. Or a narrative arc. LESS-THAN-OR-EQUAL-TO-SYMBOL-STORY Hmm. Okay, I see what you were going for. I don’t hate your story quite as much as I did before I finished, BUT (and this is a very hard but, much as I am a hard rear end) your story has no point. Literally, these were just some words about TECHNOLOGY. I’m not even sure I completely get what you were trying for at the end, there. Holes I liked this one, although it seemed short. The sentence about compromises we make as we continue teaching really resonated with me; I am guessing you have either taught, or are close to someone who has. I would have liked a little more out of this story, but it was strong for this week (which, to be fair, isn’t saying much). Soul Yo, “headlock” is not a verb, fyi. Uh. Hm. I don’t know about this. You’re doing that thing again, where you go for the big, weird ideas, and it isn’t quite landing, although this is still a far cry from the weirdest poo poo you’ve done. Yes, spectres, I could tell this was you. To be fair, I’m pretty sure that it was because of your flash rule, but once I figured that out it was obvious. Mean Value Theorem I probably should have warned everyone that if you got a math flash rule and your story conflict is that Math Is Hard, I will likely look disfavorably on you. It’s not your fault, really, it’s just that it’s easy; math is the Subject that is Hard. Everyone knows that Math Is Hard, and there is clearly Nothing That Can Be Done for you if you are Bad At Math. Easy. ...Although I do enjoy that your rugby player understands the MVT. Anyway, personal I mean, besides some stuff about calculus from Wikipedia. Losertown Hmm, okay, this is a cool motif. I don’t love it, and it’s a little loud in it’s axe-grinding, but it’s decent enough. I will ask you, though - what did their being magical chimera (?) add to the story? Order of Authorship Determined by Proximity AND THOSE ALIENS WERE HUMANS!!!  Again, I neither hate nor love this piece. This Ceramic Sunset’s For You I HATE to mention this but… How are plants growing without something to pollinate them? You mention trees, but there wouldn’t BE trees if… Ugh, nevermind. Hmm, but you know, I like the seed of this otherwise. I’d love to see it expanded a bit, maybe some interaction with the glowy wisps. You were close to the wordcount, but not enough to justify the brevity on the important parts you have going here. I wish that you’d spent less time on background information, and more on discovery and interaction with the really interesting part of your story. To Hell With The Laws, Away An Bile Yer Heid Hmm, okay. I guess? I don’t know man, everything this week tastes like overboiled potatoes. :/ Ovum Ooh, this one was pretty cool. I think you did a really good job with a difficult flash rule, especially considering that the way it reads would lead me to very silly conclusions. Control What the hell? This didn’t meet either of your flash rules. I see no art, and I have no loving idea why your protagonist is in trouble. What happened? Why? Why would you do this? Whyyyyyy?? You are Mine This was neat. The tense was a little difficult to parse at times, especially in juxtaposition with the dialogue, but I like the narrator voice. The oral sex joke was poorly placed and somewhat anachronistic for the time period it felt like you were trying for. How Argon Lost His Nobility, Then Himself Man, what the poo poo is this. I would vote to DQ you for disobeying your flash rule, since this seemed to be a pretty obvious drug metaphor, but that would require me to actually figure out what the gently caress happened here, and you’re already DQd.
|
|
#
¿
Oct 7, 2015 04:50
|
|
|
Dr. Kloctopussy posted:
Never said I never did anything for you. In!
|
|
#
¿
Oct 7, 2015 06:24
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:I'll judge this. prompt: BLOODY TEEN GHOST RIDE. 1200 words, 10 oct, 2359 PST A Wild Ride Through the Night 1200 words They shouldn’t have gone to the carnival. The plan had been not to; the plan had been to play Mario Kart and watch whatever anime Lindy had torrented most recently. But then the night had arrived, and it seemed like Halloween maybe shouldn’t be treated just like every other weekend. And there was a carnival in town... “This sucks,” said Lindy, arms tucked inside her “NINJ4” hoodie for warmth. “They don’t even have a Tilt-a-Whirl.” “At least we’re out of the house,” said Helena, standing in line behind her. “And the haunted house ride looks kind of cool.” “If there’s anything in there scarier than that off-brand Shrek painted on the side, I’ll eat my hat.” Lindy eyed the surrounding stalls for potential churro vendors. “Good, then I won’t have to see that stupid hat again,” Helena said with a laugh. Lindy pulled down on the sides of her hat, making her look more like Batman than the intended cat-ears effect. “Whatever, I like this hat.” “Yes, we assumed as much when you wouldn’t stop wearing it,” Helena said. Lindy opened her mouth to reply, but then they were at the front of the line. The ride was not particularly scary, as had been predicted beforehand, but the knock-off Shrek did make an appearance in the form of an unenthusiastic man wearing a costume that appeared to be melting, a difficult task for foam to accomplish. The two agreed, after some mildly heated discussion, that the hat could remain uneaten. When they got off the ride, the carnival was empty. “What the gently caress?” Lindy said, looking around. The neon of the rides and marquees seemed greyer, somehow, and the music slower, as though everything were underwater. “Is this… Part of the ride?” said Helena, scanning the carnival for signs of movement. Some debris blew slowly by in the distance. “Hey, I think I see someone! HEY! HEY YOU! WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Lindy pointed and waved to a figure walking slowly towards them in the distance. “What’s wrong with his head?” Helena said, and they saw the figure pass under one of the light poles. “Is he wearing one of those dumb horse masks?” Lindy said. “Wait, no, it’s one of those dumb horse masks that’s actually a unicorn. WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT, DUDE??!” “Well, it IS Halloween,” Helena said. “And I’m not sure that anyone who wears a hat with ears on it every day can really comment.” “Shut up, Helena. Hey! Do you know where everyone is?” The man in the unicorn mask was only a few yards away from them now, and they could see that he was wearing a white suit along with the mask, which had been carefully tucked into the collar. His hands were covered by latex gloves, which had a pinkish smear on the fingers like wet cotton candy. “Hello?” Lindy said again, stepping closer. “Hey, are you okay?” “Uh, Lindy, maybe you shouldn’t-” Helena said, reaching towards the smaller girl. The man in the mask kept walking, paying no heed to either of them. Lindy tried to get his attention, but he brushed past her. Well, no. Not past her. Through her. Helena stood, arm still outstretched, staring at the two figures; one still walking as though nothing had happened, one now frozen in place, eyes glassy and staring straight ahead. “Lindy?” she said, touching her friend on the shoulder, and finding her stiff and unresponsive. “Are you okay? What just happened?” Lindy turned to her friend, her brown eyes wide and sightless. Helena shivered, struck by the intense surety that her friend was not seeing her. Lindy kept turning, towards where the man in the mask and white suit was still walking, and began to follow, matching his deliberate pace. “Hey! HEY! Lindy, stop.” Helena grabbed her, trying to pull her back, away from the man and wherever he was going to. Helena was on varsity lacrosse and soccer, and had a good six inches on Lindy, so she was not expecting to have any difficulty stopping her friend. But the arm that she grabbed might as well have belonged to a piece of machinery; Lindy felt as implacable as stone, hard as iron. Helena became increasingly frantic as she tried to stop Lindy. She pulled, she pushed, she even attempted to tackle her, which resulted in Lindy walking on top of her as she continued her march after the man in the mask. He had stopped now, and stood next to the Ferris wheel, watching them both, still wordless. Finally, Lindy stopped in front of the man, who seemed to gaze down at her through the mask, the screaming horse face bathed in the dancing, muted colors of the ghostly carnival. He pointed. Lindy looked up, and Helena followed her gaze to the top of the Ferris wheel. Lindy began to climb. “Holy poo poo! No! NO! Lindy, come down! STOP!” Helena snatched at Lindy’s ankles, which earned her a kick in the face. She rounded on the man. “What the hell did you do to her? She’s terrified of heights!” She shoved him, halfway expecting to pass through, but he was as unyielding as Lindy. She screamed and punched at his unicorn mask, only to find that it had as little give as the rest of him. “Hey.” The voice from inside the mask was breathy, a gurgling hiss from a raw throat. The man leaned towards Helena so she was face to face with the bulging rubber eyes. “You’d better start climbing if you want to save her.” Helena was a good climber; her father had started taking her to the bouldering gym a few years back, and she had the upper body strength to do most of the harder routes. But Lindy had a head start, and she was climbing like she was possessed. She was at the top before Helena was a quarter of the way up the wheel. There was a moment of stillness, of silence, as Lindy stood at the top of the Ferris wheel, a ride that Helena had talked her into going on once, and sworn afterwards to never bring up again. Helena watched her standing, swaying, her body a black shadow under a pale face, lit from below by the colored lights along the rim of the wheel. Whatever had a hold of her mind must have let go as soon as it compelled her to jump, because the scream was immediate and animal in its terror. The crunch of her body as she hit the ground was visceral, a tightening in Helena’s throat. She dropped down the last ten feet to rush to the body of her friend, who lay in a spreading puddle on the asphalt. Her neck was bent around from her body, and her limbs were jumbled like a broken doll. “You dropped this,” said someone behind her. Helena turned around to see the man in the melting Shrek suit. He held something out to her, and she took it, looking down at the scrap of fabric in her hands. It was a black hat with ears on it. Then the carnival was back, and the screaming started.
|
|
#
¿
Oct 11, 2015 07:08
|
|
|
Ace of Rods: Inspiration, power, creation, beginnings, potential. Queen of Cups (Reversed): Emotional insecurity, co-dependency. Life is a Four-Dimensional Vector Moving Towards the Future 570 words Dear Future Self, Hey, it’s your Past Self. Remember when we had to do the “write a letter to yourself ten years in the future” thing for AP English? Well, you do now! So I’m supposed to graduate in a few weeks. I’m going to tell you a secret, since you’re me and you’ll know anyway: I have no idea what I’m doing. Mom wants me to go to college, and I guess that’s what I want, too, but… I feel like my whole life up to this point has been a straight line that someone else drew. I mean, maybe there were some slight deviations, some minor choices that mattered or didn’t, but I feel like I’m almost at the end of this path, and the future in front of me is infinite in any direction. Like all of my choices were laid out on a two-dimensional plane, and suddenly the future is here, and it turns out there are THREE dimensions, and I don’t even know how to move anymore, or which way is forward, or if there IS a “forward.” I THINK I have a plan, but what if I fail? What if I can’t do all of the things that I thought that I could? I’ve never been very good at failing. Or rather, Mom hasn’t let me fail. You know what I mean. And what about all of those things I decide NOT to do? Am I cutting off those futures forever? What if I would have been happier doing one of those, and by choosing not to do them now, I’ll never get there? These are the things that I end up asking myself every time I think about the future, and it’s terrifying. I’ve tried to talk to Mom about this, but I’m not sure that she understands. I think if it was up to her, I’d let her draw me another straight line to follow, and another, and another, forever. I know that she loves me, but I want my life to be mine, not something that I let someone else pick for me. I don’t really know how to tell her that, though. I worry that she’ll be mad at me, or think that I don’t love her. I do love her, I just want to have some say in my future. I’m not sure some days that I’ll find what it is that I’m looking for. Some days I feel hopeless, and helpless, and I don’t think that I can keep doing this for much longer. But you give me hope. I have hope that someday, I’ll be you, and I’ll know the answers, or at least know myself. And maybe I’ll be happy, and maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be doing something I love, and maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be a more complete person, and maybe I won’t. But I’ll definitely be you. I’ll be us. And you know what? Nothing is going to stop me from being you. No matter what path I choose, someday, ‘you’ will become ‘me,’ and I’ll read this letter and I’ll remember what it meant to be here, in this moment, looking at the vast and infinite future, and I’ll think about what I am, and what I was, and I hope that I feel joy. I hope you feel joy. I can’t wait to meet you, me. Love, Your Past Self
|
|
#
¿
Oct 12, 2015 05:27
|
|
|
Hello, I hate myself and want in*. *Facts may or may not be related.
|
|
#
¿
Nov 3, 2015 18:33
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 19, 2024 20:22 |
|
|
Just wanted to say thank you to everyone for being my 
|
|
#
¿
Dec 29, 2015 04:19
|
|