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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Lol prompt bad im in :toxx:

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sittinghere posted:

im a dumb poopy buttbrains fart fart fart, that's the sound my brains makes

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


cage

I’m not fat; every time I run my hands over my stomach there’s a pothole-bumpbumpbump of ribs. My skin is wax paper - so weak and thin it might tear. I do not remember the last time I threw up; I do not remember the last time I slept.

“You’re getting fat,” says my sister. She has not seen my ribs. I make sure my stomach is covered by the towel when I leave the shower, so nobody can see. We do not speak of pain - it would not be polite.

My ribs are bigger today than they were yesterday. I do not know whether my ribs hurt, or my stomach hurts, or whether hurt is, in general, woven through me like highways through a nation, like mineshafts through the earth, like bones through a carcass. My ribs are ready to burst from my body and open me up to the world - spread and eager like a flower in spring.

Every morning I rub my hands over my ribs, and a sourness rises up from my throat to settle behind my tongue. They are bigger every morning, and I am smaller; I am less. I am collapsing inward forever until there is only awake-at-4am and silence-regnant.

we are gravid with suffering - pregnant with the things we cannot say

we are sick with the protestant truth: medicine is weakness, suffering is strength

One day soon my stomach will split, and the world will see: grasping roots, a strangling vine, a monstrous blossom. One day, all of me will spill out and stain the heavy carpet. One day, I will do something deeply impolite -- find words for my pain. Until then, I suffer in silence, as is proper.





284 words

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


I was like "I am gonna be helpful and do the crits" then the very first story I went to read was erotic Overwatch fanfiction

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Okay well I am not really into Reaper/76 slash as a rule because I don't really see them ever getting together. It's not like they're old war buddies who ended up on different sides of the same coin and hatefuck occasionally (that's Reaper/Mcree tyvm) -- Morrison and Reyes were in different units and haven't really interacted all that much in the official background.

Your OTP sucks, Kurona.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


This is the first week in literally years that everybody has submitted

for our hubris, we are being punished. there will be no FJ tonight

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


we are dead and this is hell

crit prediction: Muffin this was pretty but where was no story no placement

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


interprompt: Sebmojo can eat a dick

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Sebmojo can eat a dick

Look at this!
Bob-Ross motherfucker drinking
beer speak soft write bad
Go away you
Go away you
man of poop

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Sebmojo can eat a BIG dick

So I'm in Boca right and there's this guy yeah this guy
he's like you know - he's onea THEM with the big heads and the sideways eyes and he looks at me and he can see all my sins. I hate that poo poo man, straight-up hate it. They says they's human but I don't believe it. Preacher says they's angels I don't believe it either. They come outta the sky, man - come down in green fire, lay roots through the earth like they own it
WHY CAN'T THEY GO BACK TO SPACE WHERE THEY CAME FROM
i dunno man maybe there was a space war and it's real bad or something, but they come down here and eat our sins away and it makes me feel uncomfortable

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Sebmojo can eat a dick: Revelations 3D

alright look I don't want to make a fuss but I've got like these uh ... nodules? I think that's the word. Ever since I breathed in that poo poo the Russians are putting into the sky, my skin feels like it's alive and it wants to go places I don't wanna go. These lumps man, it's like fingers pushing up from inside me. I know the angels are supposed to protect us from this poo poo but they scare me man they scare me. I can't see a doctor because he'll just call the army but I don't wanna die man

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


i burn with love for god why can he not burn me return

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Sebmojo can eat twenty smaller dicks arranged tastefully around a plate with jizz garnish

[WE INTERRUPT YOUR REGULAR BROADCAST FOR A SYNOD TRANSMISSION]

all citizens class K through L please report to your local disease center for processing. Do not be alarmed. Staff have been arranged to escort you should you require or resist. This is an emergency scheduled checkup for spores or other

calming noises will not be broadcast. Do not think.

If your local water is brass, DO NOT DRINK. Remember: copper is clean, brass is bad

remember: disease is a sign of moral degeneracy. Vigilance is strength.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sure I'm in

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Hey there! I am apparently TD's designated poetry guy, so I have a tip for y'all that is really obvious but nobody ever does it

Before you submit, read your poem out loud. Write it down on paper, stand up, walk around, read it out loud. Things will clunk that didn't when it was on the page and you'll be thinking lol muffin the judges are reading if it's fine on the paaaaaage shut up, no. They won't notice directly, but it'll register in a subconscious way that something about that line is wrong. Poetry is supposed to create its own music from the arrangement of syllables, and the only way to know if you've got it right (unless you're some seamus heaney s-tier poem god) is to hear it with your ears.

Hell, find a partner/friend/dog and read it to them. More ears is better. Poetry sleeps on the page, but it lives in the air.



also if you need to twist your grammar around to make a rhyme work, it's probably not a very good rhyme

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


serious answer: the writing/editing balance of poetry is totally whack compared to prose: you'll often spend 5-10x as much time editing as writing. That's totally normal, and you shouldn't fear it.

but lol here's my poem loser

where we store our best gear

My woman lies back - spits out smoke, fingers unfurled –
Cigarette dancing, eyes: bloodshot pearls. Words - so frail.
She’s sayin’ ‘someday soon, gonna rule the whole world’.

In summer we dance to Morrissey. We’re sweating:
wallpaper stinks of sex and other substances.
My woman lies back - spits out smoke, fingers unfurled –

My lighter has run out; spoons are burnt. We grow wings
to fly free from this place but fall back - sleep calls us.
She’s sayin’ ‘someday soon, gonna rule the whole world’.

How I hate Morrissey. English prick. He’s singing
‘woe is me’ out of a posh London studio.
My woman lies back - spits out smoke, fingers unfurled –

Track-marks run from shoulder to elbow. Skin itching.
We’ve lost time; time lost us in a maze of needles.
She’s sayin’ ‘someday soon, gonna rule the whole world’.

One day soon we’ll get off this old couch and – something-
I forget. It’s easy to sleep. Hard to - to –
My woman lies back - spits out smoke, fingers unfurled –
She’s sayin’ ‘someday soon, gonna rule the whole world’.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


MY BROTHERS WHAT DO THEY SAY OF THE FJ

THEY SAY IT IS THE GJ

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


oshit it's your boy Los Angeles Judge Craig Mitchell!!





Craig is the best judge

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sebmojo posted:

also genjoe is a loser who has become a winner, will the dome recognise that with an avatar?
Ask Capntastic, if he's around: he was the first to do that.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


FJGJ

*I didn't win*

no guys it's cool take ur time

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Just to clarify, you're looking for script format for a piece that could hypothetically be acted?

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sebmojo posted:

He wants a picture of a single log with a chick riding it like a boss

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


SkaAndScreenplays posted:

Yes It's A Man Giving A Monologue:
So it's not appropriate to the prompt...
But it's still one of the best loving speeches in the history of film.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4PE2hSqVnk
lol excuse you
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGQToJ9RR-4

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Sulfur/baccy/woodsmoke
700 words

Look nah, look – you’ve got it backwards.

So this pommy oval office comes in, and I asked him if he’s got a durry, and he’s like “if you suck my cock” and I’d never wanted a smoke so much in my life but I like to think I’m not that far gone. I know the house is a shambles but I try to have my poo poo in order. I did not suck that pommy cock.

I mean I almost did. I was on the fence there for a wee bit, but then his wee boy comes in and he’s wearing different-coloured socks. He’s maybe ten, and his face is the wrong kinda dirty – not like he’s been playing outside, but like he hasn’t seen a shower in months.

Kid has probably seen enough without having to watch his dad get a blowie from some rando in a squat.

Hehe, squat.

Funny word that. When you can’t afford to live in a real house, you squat – you’re not quite on your knees, but close enough. It’s easier to go down on your knees, you know – just fuckin let the world whatever. Now holding a squat, that takes real courage. Kia kaha, motherfucker; banzai, Zapata, a billion dead proles can’t be wrong.

So I said “oi gently caress off” then I felt a bit bad because of the kid. ‘dad shakes his head and pulls out a ciggie; lights it, takes a drag, just kinda looks me up and down like men do. There’s a redness around his eyes, and his fingernails look like he’s been rooting through pigshit. What’s a bloke with a bloody kid doing in a place like this?

Looking for trouble, that’s what.

There’s a lot of people live in the squat, alright? I’m not expected to keep track of everybody and/or what they’re selling. So the pom leers at me for a while, then he grabs the kid by the arm and drags him off into one of the other rooms. ‘comes out about twenty minutes later with a poo poo-eating grin and a gun. Never seen one like it outside of movies: little silvery revolver with a short uh, barrel thing. He looks at me, then he kneels down and presses it into the kid’s hands.

“You wanna be a big boy?” he says, and I’m starting to get worried. Kid shakes his head, looks at his feet.

“Shoot that fuckin whore,” he says, and lifts the kid’s hands up. Poor kid’s in tears, and I’m frozen in place. Trigger goes click, barrel rotates, and everything’s going reeeeal slow while my brain tries to shove my whole life before my eyes, which I do not wanna see.

Click, empty. Crazy oval office’s laughing now, waving the gun around. Kid’s on the floor crying while his old man tells him to stop being such a girl. The gun was empty the gun was empty he’s saying. You’ll never be a man if you’re scared of a little boom.

It was a little boom. Movies teach you it’s a big explosion, but it was almost a soft little click. Kid kinda weaves back and forth a bit, then falls over. There’s no blood, and they don’t show you that in movies either. A little hole in a dark shirt (was it white, once? Hard to tell, but it was getting darker) and he falls onto his face like he’s a puppet and his dad cut the strings. Turns out, clothing can soak a fair amount of blood before it starts going everywhere, and kids ain’t got all that much blood in ‘em.

Pop, flop, game over.

They don’t show the smell either. It’s rank-yet-woody. It burns, but soothes. There’s nothing else smells like gunsmoke.

Dad’s holding the gun, eyes wide, then he drops it and does the nugget: just fuckin hoofs it outta there superhero fast, not even looking back. Didn’t have a phone to call the ambulance even if I wanted to, but it was obvious the kid was dead -- right in the head, point blank.

So I sat in the same old place, and waited for the sound of sirens.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sebmojo posted:

Potential
600 words

So one night, after dinner, I fall out of grace with electricity.

It happens when I’ve just scraped the leftovers into the waste disposal and I hit the switch, with wet fingers - I know, dumb, right? BLAMMO, a sinus obliterating spasm of gently caress thumps through me and I yelp and drop to the floor like a stunned goose.

“What the poo poo was that,” yells Miles from the couch in the other room. I don’t say anything. I’m flat on my back like a flounder dropped out of the pan and onto the black and white lino, opening and closing my mouth

I’d met Miles 18 months previously at a sushi place, pissed on cheap red wine. He charmed the crap out of my friend Sally and I’m ashamed slash proud to admit I flung myself at him in a fit of drunken pique. Proud because it was highly effective drunken pique: three months later we’re engaged.

It occurs to me as I’m lying there that it may have actually been a bad idea. I remember the lightning bolt clarity of thinking yes, yes, when he asked me, but that's all it is - a memory, a bright after-image in my minds eye.

Two days later we’re getting a taxi and fourteen thousand volts of static electricity leaps into my outstretched finger and hightails it down to my feet. ‘Jesus,’ I say, jumping back. Miles gets in the car. I scuttle in after him so I don’t have to touch any more metal.

“This poo poo is wack,” I explain to my betrothed and he looks at me.

“They used to make electricity with rabbit fur and amber,” he says. I wait for him to explain how that’s relevant to my current situation e.g. being the neighbourhood bike for any shiftless electrons that want to take me for a spin, but he does not.

At the restaurant the coat rack gives me a shock, followed by a zap from the chair back, a jolt from the dessert , and a good old fashioned wallop from the pull chain in the ladies loo. The toilet shock is the worst because it's the hundred and fifty first shock I've received from the hateful world. I'd had hopes it would stop at a hundred and fifty; counting them is how I've been passing the time between jolts.

Back at the table I slump back into my chair and tap at the coffee and the after dinner mint. Nothing. I take a wary sip. I don't know how a coffee could electrocute anyone but I'm taking no chances.

"So we're down to a hundred and fifty guests," he says. "My mum wants to bring her bridge club."

I look at him with exhausted eyes and blink. "Yes, fine. Bridge. Done." Miles' mum is a combination of Dame Edna Everage and Torquemada, but is perfectly lovely as long as you don't have to talk to or be around her.

Then Miles frowns: "You'll be OK with your electricity thing at the ballroom? We've got dance practice tomorrow, the next ten Wednesdays, remember?"

He keeps frowning, like I'm something I've forgotten. It's funny, so I laugh. Then I reach out and touch his hand. I'm steeled for the zap, for the jolt, for the shock, but there's nothing. Nothing at all.

So I pat his hand, his soft hand with its zero potential, and I push my chair back, and I stand up, and I walk out of our life forever.

The door shocks me, and I smile.
Did you just write real person fic where you're a woman and you have rolicking electric sex with Fumblemouse

edit: im sure zapping people is a kink and i intend to investigate

edit: yes it definitely is

edit: whoa boy howdy is it

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 08:11 on Feb 6, 2017

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


yeah sure :toxx: in gently caress the rules

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


My god, this tool. This power. What have you given me, doof? What have you done?

So it begins, the great poo poo-talkening of our time. Fight me with magic, little man.

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 08:47 on Feb 7, 2017

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


UNLIMITED POWER

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


somebody send help I think I'm the anime guy who was nice then he touched the bad magic thing and now he's all scary. Doof this is your fault you gotta not-quite kill me and then we kiss while I lie in your arms

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010



[205 words]

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


sebmojo posted:

i'll promtpt you're rear end


SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


Obliterati posted:

Does anyone have thoughts on good qualities of judging

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


hey if you're bored and wanna write there are always other options

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


poetry is good

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


BeefSupreme posted:

dammit learn to spell pormpt
it's bad luck if you don't kiss me on Valentine's Day c'mere big boy

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


not a rule, just a suggestion because I've judged similar weeks


like, a solid half of the people are gonna write about Jesus being an alien trying to intercede in our development. Jesus, or Mozart, or Tesla etc etc

if you write a story where a historical figure turns out to be an alien trying to intercede in humanity's development so as to help us elude the cataclysm that befell his own race, then the judges are gonna loving hate you

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010


flerp posted:

cool i really appreciate the advice :D
u need all the help u can get friend

in

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