Prompt will be up in ~6 hours, until then feel free to poo poo up the thread with gifs for me to ignore
id poo poo it up with words but yall did that for me
|# ¿ Jan 10, 2017 00:15|
|# ¿ Jul 5, 2022 15:14|
*is ejected directly into the toilet dimension*
|# ¿ Jan 10, 2017 00:15|
Thunderdome would be easier if we all just had two hours from signup to write because we all do it last minute anyway lmao
|# ¿ Jan 10, 2017 08:02|
|# ¿ Jan 10, 2017 08:02|
hosed the heck up
|# ¿ Jan 15, 2017 04:55|
Not Quite Friends (2,115 words)
Lark Wilder climbed on the fence and wrapped her elbows over the pointed ends of the wooden posts to hold herself up. The bit of field before her was mostly dirt except for a lone tree, defiantly standing alone in the otherwise dead looking ground. It was tall in the same way giants were, and looked older than any tree she’d ever seen. In front of it was a young boy named Zhao Kong.
Zhao Kong came from Northern nobility, the stubborn sort that would walk with two broken legs and tell you nothing was wrong. His cold face dripped with hot sweat and he squinted tightly to avoid the sun in his eyes. He struggled to stand with the weight that held down his shoulders. His knees shook, looking to buckle. With quiet ambition he held up a wooden bar, and off it hung two buckets filled with water. The dirt beneath him was absolutely dry as he did his best to keep them from falling.
Lark hopped over the fence and walked towards Zhao, but he turned his head further away from her the closer she got. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, he spoke out of the opposite side of his mouth.
“Go away,” said Zhao.
“You’re going to be my friend,” said Lark.
“No. I’m not.”
“Of course you are!”
Zhao grunted and looked towards her. His face wrinkled and bunched up near the top of his nose as he looked more and more like he was going to drop the two buckets of water. The shaking in his knees moved up into his stomach, and then to his shoulders, and then into his arms. Even his fingers shook a little. He clenched his teeth and sealed his mouth tighter than before.
Lark didn’t understand him. Why he didn’t want to be her friend. Why not understand what he’s thinking?
“Why are you holding those buckets up?” asked Lark.
“I hit someone,” said Zhao. “Will you leave now?”
“Okay. But only if you tell me who is making you do this.” said Lark.
“Sir Telmorris,” said Zhao. “Leave.”
Lark walked towards the edge of the yard and unlocked the gate from the inside. She wasn’t sure whose yard it was, honestly. Just that the other kids had seen Zhao over here, struggling to hold up two buckets of water. She made her way closer to the center of knight’s village where she came towards a small house. It almost looked like a silo, it was round and made of brick the color of a calm gray sky. Small little vines had started creeping up the sides of it, but came just short of the simple wooden windows. Lark moved up to it, adjusted her shirt and fussed up her hair before she knocked on the door.
The man that answered was Sir Telmorris. A man with a shovel-like jaw and the hint of a mighty beard cut short by the knife. He was tall, too, but his body was filled out well enough that Lark thought he might have just been a regular sized person from a further distance out. Even in a simple shirt with the top and only two buttons undone at the collar, his strength showed clear. When she looked up unto his eyes, they blocked her from looking inward. This was a man who could properly hide even the deepest sadness or most powerful of rage, she thought.
She didn’t like him.
“I don’t want any flowers,” said Telmorris. “Or whatever it is you’re selling.”
He started to close the door, and Lark walked in between it and the doorway, stopping it from closing all of the way.
“Why is Zhao in that yard holding buckets up?”
“He hit Druck,” said Telmorris. “No one hits my students outside of a duel or practice. Got that?”
“Who started it?” asked Lark.
“Excuse me?” said Telmorris. Maybe he didn’t hide rage as well as Lark thought. The way he whipped around was quicker than she would have expected him to.
“Who started the fight? Druck or Zhao?” asked Lark.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does, actually.”
Telmorris glared at her and then shoved her outside. When the door slammed, Lark closed her eyes, thinking it was going to hit her right in the nose. When she opened them, the door was a blade’s edge away from her face.
Lark looked towards the small yard he had and spotted two wooden buckets and a long staff.
She knocked on the door again, but the only response she received was a distant grunt.
Lark walked into his yard. She had to push aside an old oak crate and some riding gear that he left outside, before she managed to pull the two buckets out of the small pile of stuff. The staff was easy to carry. She made her way down towards the yard where Zhao was. She made sure the gate was still open, and gave Zhao a quick smile as he struggled to ignore her. There was a well not far from here, and after filling each bucket with water, she carried each one to the gate before Zhao noticed her.
She placed both buckets next to him and hooked the staff underneath the small metal handles and lifted it up and over her shoulders, before letting it rest. With bent knees, she copied Zhao’s posture as best she could before holding still.
After one minute her knees felt sore. After two, her thighs joined in. After five minutes she wobbled back and forth. Zhao, at this point, couldn’t ignore her, but with how red his face was, his words were hurried and weak.
“Did Druck punch you?” asked Lark.
“Excuse me?” asked Zhao.
“I want to know if Druck punched you first, or you punched him first.”
“Druck, he punched me, so I punched him back. Telmorris took his side.”
“I bet it’s hard to think like this, I bet that’s why you won’t talk to me,” said Lark. She wobbled to the right, away from Zhao, before catching her balance. “How long do you have to do this?”
Lark tried her best to keep her buckets up. At first she spread her legs and squatted a little further. Eventually she teetered the weight from one side to another. Eventually she twisted and tumbled and fell over next to Zhao. The water splashed out and onto the thirty earth which absorbed it all within the minute, leaving only dark spots besides the turned over buckets.
Lark sat next to Zhao and looked up at him. Then she sat against the tree and looked up into it. When the sun started to set, she walked back over to Zhao. He still held his buckets up, his body struggling intensely under the weight.
“Think he’ll be back soon?” asked Lark.
Zhao nodded his head. It looked almost bloated from how red it was, it resembled a ripe tomato.
Lark sat a little longer and watched the sun set with a smile. The moon, once barely visible in the evening sky, became a bright white circle beaming down on them. Lark looked at it for a little while, she was hungry, and she hurried off and found a baker tossing their unused bread away at anyone that would buy it for a steep discount. She hurried back and broke off half, and started to eat it in front of Zhao. She stepped closer to him and put the other half of the loaf close to his mouth, but he turned his head away.
“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Lark.
“Not allowed to eat,” said Zhao.
“You’re really determined.”
Zhao stopped talking.
The deeper parts of night left Lark with a chill she could no longer ignore. Even as she pulled her clothes tighter around her frame, she felt the cold breath through to her skin. As she folded her arms in front of her, she tried feeding Zhao the staling bread, but when he turned his head again, she ate it instead. Eventually she grew tired, and after fighting back a yawn, she walked back to Telmorris’ house, only a few minutes away.
At this point she wondered if Zhao had given up. She couldn’t imagine him lasting any longer, but she waited for Telmorris anyway, wondering just what was keeping him.
Telmorris answered in loose clothes and a tall cap. He yawned and stared at Lark with tight eyes.
“What are you doing here?” asked Telmorris.
“Zhao is waiting for you to come back,” said Lark.
“He can go home. I don’t care.”
“He’s really stubborn, you know.”
“I know. I want him to realize that he has to learn to give up sometimes. Why do you think that fight started?”
“He’s not going to give up. You know that, don’t you?”
Telmorris slammed the door in her face.
Frustrated, Lark walked back to Zhao, thankfully the fence was still unlocked. In the moonlight, the tree looked prettier with every gentle breeze. The way the leaves rustled sounded pleasing. It was the sort of sound she’d lay in bed and focus on if she wanted to fall asleep with gentle haste. Zhao’s ability to stand with the weight of both buckets on his shoulders seemed unreal. The way he wobbled back and forth and caught himself seemed almost like an animalistic instinct, the sort that lets a cat always fall on its paws.
“He’s not coming back, you know,” said Lark. “Do you need anything?
“I don’t care,” said Zhao.
“Okay,” said Lark.
Lark grabbed both of the buckets she borrowed and took them to the well and filled them up, then carried them all the way to Telmorris’ house. Her arms felt like they were going to fall out of her shoulders by the time she made it all the way back. With a bucket at each side of her feet, she knocked on the door.
Telmorris opened it with a stony face.
Lark lifted one bucket and splashed the water onto Telmorris.
Telmorris’ face transformed. At first it was shock, and then, as he woke up a little, it became shame, which slowly twisted into a tight anger. Just as he raised his finger and opened his mouth to yell at Lark, she emptied the second bucket onto him. Water completely soaked his pajamas, and he kept bouncing back between trying to say something and clenching his jaw tightly. Telmorris slammed the door in Lark’s face, but she waited a moment as she heard the shuffle of drawers opening and gentle steps. A moment later, the door swung open again. Telmorris was fully clothed.
“I borrowed your buckets, I thought I should bring them back,” said Lark with a smile.
She knew he was angry, and she wanted to giggle and tease him, but thought better of it.
Telmorris snapped his hand forward and grabbed Lark by the wrist, practically dragging her to the field. When he walked through the gate, he slammed it closed behind him, and it bounced back on its hinge a couple of times before settling at just slightly open. The loud noise roused a couple of cats and silenced a few dozen crickets.
Lark stood next to Telmorris and looked at Zhao. At this point she thought he was dead, and his soul somehow managed to prop his body up despite his passing. But Zhao raised his head slightly with blood-red eyes and a hoarse voice.
“What?” asked Zhao.
“I’m back. Have you learned your lesson?” asked Telmorris.
“No. What have you taught me?” asked Zhao.
“Nothing,” said Telmorris.
“That’s right. I’ve learned nothing. You were never going to come back, were you?”
“No. I wanted you to give up.”
“I never,” said Zhao. His face went almost blank, and then he fell forward as the two buckets toppled over and splashed water near his feet. Zhao looked directly at the dirt, opened his mouth, spat out a few sandy grains of the dryness beneath him, and spoke directly towards the center of the earth.
“I never give up,” said Zhao.
Telmorris grumbled and tossed Zhao over his shoulder as the three of them walked back to the barracks. As they did, Lark trailed behind and looked up into Zhao’s eyes with a big smile on her face.
“Are we friends now?” asked Lark.
“Maybe,” said Zhao. “Let me sleep first. You’re not like those buckets, you know.”
“How’s that?” asked Lark.
“You’re actually exhausting.”
For the rest of the way back towards the barracks, Lark skipped circles around them both and whistled a cheerful tune.
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2017 04:37|
Interprompt: chess, the anime (100 words)
"ha, he'll never see this coming," said Gardock Mestefereferus
"w-what!? impossible, moving a bishop that far out of his pawn line? is he mad?" exclaimed Wally Flowers
"and when i move my bishop, it ends! chekkumeito!*" said Ponn Royale. winningly.
tl note: chekkumeito means checkmate
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2017 23:51|
don't worry i'll be gone soon
please dont die, dad.
|# ¿ Jan 24, 2017 18:29|
mod challenge judge quickly
i knew sa was gettin bad but dang man, they're stoopin' pretty low
|# ¿ Feb 13, 2017 18:32|
what the gently caress
|# ¿ Feb 28, 2017 15:46|
|# ¿ Feb 28, 2017 22:17|
it also happened yesterday lol
|# ¿ Mar 13, 2017 07:10|
INTERPROMPT: Falsetto Dubstep Dracula in the Australian outback
nah (1 word):
|# ¿ Mar 27, 2017 17:00|
judging is fast because judging is good
|# ¿ Apr 10, 2017 05:40|
Thank you very much for the crit QPQ! Gosh, getting a DM is VERY educational, isn't it?
welcome to the club, kiddo
|# ¿ Jun 8, 2017 04:09|
in, give me a cover
|# ¿ Jun 23, 2017 05:47|
High Cups (999 words)
Ini peered through the porthole. A man wearing a black hat and an oxygen mask appeared at the edge of the horizon. The gray dust of New Dakota’s surface swept upward in eddies towards the orange, storm-ready skies that crackled with thunder.
As Ini reached for her laser rifle, Chief Taah interrupted her with a grasp of the wrist.
“More violence? I thought Garish Dune was behind us. What if they offer peace?” asked Taah.
“I spared them upon surrender, was that not merciful enough?” asked Ini.
“There’s plenty of dust on New Dakota for all of us,” said Taah.
Taah sat down in front of a computer terminal as he took shallow breaths. He swept his nanofiber cloak over his body and wrapped his arms tightly in it. As he shivered, he looked toward the rest of the tribe around him, all of them wore sleeveless clothes.
Ini waited by the porthole. She tightened her fist as memories of the recent battle flashed in her head. She recalled the pale spacemen that screamed their unintelligible words of death, all while her brother Gosan wasted his own final words into a pool of his own blood.
When the pale man in the black hat approached the entrance bay, Chief Taah ordered him to be let inside.
The tribe stood by the terminal walls that flashed numbers that measured air quality, temperatures, and water accumulation. Chief Taah invited Harby to sit across from him at a large table. To Ini’s surprise, the pale man spoke in the tribe’s tongue, slowly and with a thick accent.
“I am… Harby, we are sorry. I’m from the Patori encampment a few rotations East. We meant no harm.”
“Do you apologize?” asked Taah.
Harby looked towards one of the terminals. “We, the Patori, apologize for the bloodshed at Garish Dune. It was a misunderstanding.”
Taah leaned back in his seat and tapped the table twice. He smiled as two of the younger tribeswomen brought cups of hot liquid.
“Drink in the broth of New Dakota. We celebrate,” said Taah.
Harby lifted his cup. An insult to the tribe, surely? Taah leaned back and shook his head. Harby lowered his cup and sipped from it. Taah drank too, satisfied.
As they drank, Ini stepped in front of her rifle.
The tribe turned towards Ini with contemptuous eyes.
A sourness covered Ini’s tongue as sat at the table beside Taah and Harby.
“May I join in?” asked Ini.
Another tribeswoman placed a cup in front of Ini. She drank.
The farmworm dinner that followed was traditional, but Ini ate only out of obligation.
In the middle of their meal, Harby pulled out a device with white blips over a local map. He turned towards Ini. “We forgive your murderous actions. We offer you this. It tells you where water is. Though you’ll need to power it through one of your systems.”
Taah picked up the device and marveled. Ini leaned in and pressed a button on it. The blips flashed red. Taah tugged it away from Ini. He stared at it briefly, then offered it back.
“It looks to be low on battery, Ini, go plug it in,” said Taah.
Ini took it and and stepped towards the nearest hub as Harby drummed his fingers to an odd rhythm.
“I refuse,” said Ini.
Taah slammed his palms onto the table as he stood. Two of the tribeswomen came to steady him. The chief coughed twice, then spoke. “We must make peace now. New Dakota will be the home of more to come.”
“I agree. Please, take your time,” said Harby.
“Do it,” said Taah. “If he means us harm, then we will harm them in return.”
Ini looked between Taah and Harby. She pressed the device against the hub. It connected.
Harby sipped the last of his broth and grasped his discarded oxygen mask.
“Is there a nearby lavatory?” asked Harby.
Chief Taah pointed to the hall. “Third door.”
Even after several moments, Harby did not return. Ini’s stomach sank. She eyed the terminals again, but nothing had changed. Suddenly, a woman, the oldest in the tribe, collapsed to the floor, followed by a young child.
Ini’s lungs tightened. She reached for the rifle and stepped towards the lavatory. She pressed against the panel to open it, but it refused. Ini punched in an overwrite code, but it refused to open. Of course Harby chose a lavatory, it was the only place guaranteed to have a locked door.
The leak alarms blared. Suddenly, an error message popped up on every terminal screen.
Virus Detected. Cannot Remove. Please Instruct: Yes/No
Ini raised her rifle and shot the lavatory lock. The door slid open. Inside, Ini saw the hints of a grin through Harby’s foggy plastic mask. She dragged the man out and threw him into the hall.
With glassy eyes of regret, Chief Taah raised his cup as high as it would. An insult fit for a traitor.
“I had a son, you know,” said Harby.
A second later, there was a gaping hole in Harby’s chest. Inside of it was a pile of ash, the only remnants of the pale man’s heart.
“Thank you,” said Taah with his final breath.
Ini grabbed the oxygen mask. Though she could breath, the rest of the tribe fell to the ground in unceremonious thuds. Ini dashed towards the terminals and tugged the map from the hub. She manually closed every vent and pumped extra air into the system. Nothing worked. She reached down and touched a young child, Amah, but she had gone cold. Ini slammed at the terminal with a closed fist and sobbed once into the mask.
Ini stormed out the entrance bay and into the orange night as she recalled the battle of Garish Dune. Every step towards the Patori encampment hastened her resolve.
Never trust the pale men, she thought. She clutched to her rifle, ready to rid New Dakota of their disease.
|# ¿ Jun 26, 2017 05:08|
awful week you all suck including the judges
|# ¿ Jun 27, 2017 23:18|
hell yeah wizards
|# ¿ Jul 7, 2017 07:08|
How is tdbot doing? I miss him.
i murdered him, sorry
|# ¿ Jul 10, 2017 01:40|
Questions! Is there a word count? What is the word count? What date is the sign up deadline? What date is the posting deadline? What is the land speed of an American alligator?
in a quantum sense, both yes and no. it's 12. april 20th, 2069. also april 20th, 2069. depends, is it radioactive or not?
|# ¿ Aug 21, 2017 20:24|
i smear myself in margerine wile staring u in the eye and sayying "bring it bitchess"
wow muffin are u going on a diet
|# ¿ Sep 4, 2017 23:45|
"Miss Cauldron had a terrible week. Her students brushed off her house-magic courses and, after recently bungling a crystal ward strengthening demonstration, the other teachers would have joked behind her back were they present.
The ward had imprisoned a one thousand pound monstrosity within its stable. The stables themselves shook from the dragon's roar as it shattered the stable doors, rendering them mere planks and splinters. It stared down Miss Cauldron as if to remind her of her failure. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes widened and a scream crept up her throat. She snapped her eyes to the panicked screams of her students behind her. She would not allow herself to show weakness, not after her failure.
“I have everything under control," said Miss Cauldron.
She tried to force a smile, but her lips remained still."
why these changes:
cut out passive language where i could
bad to terrible - i don't want to hear about someone's bad week in a short story unless it was particularly interesting as well. freeing a dragon i think qualifies as terrible in terms of dramatic impact, don't you think?
i actually didnt read very far you can remove the "were they present" part if the teachers are actually there but it didn't seem like it so who cares whatever. subtract three words depending on the situation. i think removing teachers is more interesting and makes the conflict more personal.
you could argue that hearing the panicked screams and then reacting is appropriate. it seems like a gut instinct so it can probably pass in that sentence order. i wouldn't do that for other sorts of delayed reactions.
i added a personal moment with the dragon reminding her of her failure because obv she feels lovely about being in this situation and her conflict to overcome it is to display competency by dealing with the dragon. directly connects the interpersonal conflict with the physical one, basically.
teacher flying off the handle remark isn't too necessary as the personal drama seems to be more about her personal failures as a teacher. i combined those two things. obviously this is a debatebale change.
changed the order of the failed smile and made it more of a physical thing. she can't overcome her own ability to control her emotions, again character conflict w/e.
dragon smashing through the doors, i gave them a physical description, giving you an idea of the dragon's power. destroying a door easily makes it scary. obviously being a thousand pounds is also scary!!! but that shows its power and makes the conflict observable
im too lazy to do this to more than a twitter's post worth of content, but you get the idea of what i'm talking about in fa, yeah?
specifically referring to this post:
countdown till crabrock calls me an idiot for not squeezing this down to 120 words or something.
anime was right fucked around with this message at 05:11 on Sep 26, 2017
|# ¿ Sep 26, 2017 05:04|
i cant sleep what up
|# ¿ Sep 26, 2017 05:08|
i didnt use capitalization when i won deal with it wordnerd
|# ¿ Sep 26, 2017 05:47|
you dont have to tell us why you failed, just fail, no one cares, poo poo happens, lol
|# ¿ Oct 9, 2017 11:42|
|# ¿ Jul 5, 2022 15:14|
INTERPROMPT: Man Agonizes over Tomatoes
this pasta just ain't right.
there's not enough tomatoes.
that's what you get,
in a post-apocalyptic italy.
there's no sauce, just noodles,
and we're hungry.
mamma mia, we're hungry.
|# ¿ Oct 23, 2017 18:02|