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Jan 8, 2019 17:54
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Crits crits crits Week 335 The Turns of Edward Smith I didn’t feel a lot with this one. The voice seemed very remote, and I think that it robbed your story of some of the pathos that the situation should have engendered. In the same vein, I don’t think that you did quite enough to make your reader really care about Ed as a person. That may just have been a consequence of word count, or the remote voice. I also didn’t really understand why or how he was able to escape, although maybe that was a fault in my reading comprehension. This fact plus the ending where he decides to just putter around for a while made this feel like it should have been a lot longer (which seems to have been a theme this week). Place: Middle A Death's Purpose - Lullabies For The Soul It’s not that I didn’t understand what was going on, per se - I mean, I get that the guy is dying, and this puffball tells him he’s dying, and maybe cleanses his soul so he can go into the afterlife happy - but I think this fell apart because you were trying to avoid exposition so hard that it all seemed very vague and … willfully obfuscated, maybe? You know, when you’re writing and do the thing where you have this really clever idea you’re trying to get around just coming out and saying, because part of the allure of the idea is that it’s a mystery, and stating it out loud would somehow ruin the magic? I say that because I have written a lot of those stories myself, and I just don’t know that it ever worked out as well as I hoped it would. I think it might just be the limitations of the form; it’s nearly impossible to dance around the nature of a main character in your story for 1000 words and give your reader enough clues that it becomes clear what’s going on without doing the WHAT A TWIST ending. I think you could have even gotten away with it here if it weren’t for the “cousins” that the puffball mentioned. Once those got brought in again at the ending, I lost the thread of the plot, and it seemed like there was something that I was supposed to have intuited about the nature of the cousins that would explain their relationship to the puffballs and their humans. Unfortunately, I don’t think the information was really here, and it made your catharsis at the end feel hollow. Place: Low-Middle One Hour I feel like this story looks good on paper (lol), but in practice it ended up kind of remote and lifeless. I see all of the elements that you’re putting together here, but I just never quite managed to engage with the character. The second to last time especially, seemed VERY on-the-nose; I feel like I could have written your ending myself just based on your opening. It didn’t really go anywhere I wasn’t expecting it to, which meant that it didn’t feel very satisfying to read. The whole meds-make-me-feel-like-I’m-behind-glass thing is enough of a cultural trope at this point that a story is going to be hard to hang entirely on the concept. You need something else (or to go way, WAY harder at the theme) to help fill this in, otherwise it’s a pretty well-worn road. Nothing stands out as particularly bad, just kind of … bland. Of course, both of my cojudges liked it, so who knows. Place: Middle Life in Stop Motion Full disclosure: I visited my mother-in-law’s gravesite for the first time recently (I never got the chance to meet her in person), so that may have colored my perception of this story. No way you could have known that, but a coincidentally amusing piece of accidental judge-pander. I liked this a lot, although I didn’t originally have it as my win, mostly because the details were a bit muddy and hard to figure out. It didn’t help much that (due to recent experience) I kept reading the narrator’s child as a boy rather than a girl, so the fact that she’s getting married (maybe?) at the end didn’t even occur to me initially. The rings I thought were a Hot Topic phase or something, idk. ANYWAY, the ending seemed rather rough, and I think that you need to work on making things clearer and more meaningful if you want to go forward with this piece. I think with the moving away from the grave you were trying to make some kind of transitional phase, but that was the point where I felt it began to get really confusing, so probably something to rework. Place: HM or Win Fishwatcher This one was my favorite story, just because I really enjoyed the imagery, and thought that the ending was one of the better ones out of a week full of botched endings, but obviously my co-judges disagreed. Your actual characters, as others have said, need some work. The fish things were really cool, but the spousal conflict that was your real story needed quite a bit more to flesh it out. And yes, losing a part of your body is traumatic, but saying that she lost her reproductive capability without saying anything specific about what that meant to her comes off as lazy shorthand. It’s fine if she (and maybe her husband!) was a person who really wanted children, and this threw off her whole life, but if that’s the case then show that, don’t just drop the word uterus in there like it explains everything about everything. It served to really cheapen what otherwise was a very nice story, and in my opinion was the most interesting one this week by far. Place: Win or HM (obviously overruled) Hospitality Harharhar, Elvish Elvis. I think someone else really cut to the heart of the matter when they said that this was more a setup to a story than the story itself. The scenario was interesting enough, but your character didn’t really grow or change at all, other than gaining this semi-random blessing at the end by sheer dint of just continuing to do what was asked of him. There wasn’t really a conflict per se, and so the ending felt a little hollow. I do think that you did a good job with the Elve-ish characters, both in their mannerisms and speech. It came of as simultaneously other-worldly and folksy, without being too over-the-top cartoony, which is difficult. Overall not the strongest story of the week, but an interesting world and setup that you could potentially use for interesting things. Place: Middle In Lieu of Getting Out This story didn’t really seem to go anywhere with its premise, which I think maybe was an intentional choice on your part; it doesn’t really matter if the UFO was real or not, because what’s important is that Kelvin is learning to move past it. I guess my issue comes with the fact that the UFO becomes a bit of a Checkov’s Gun, in as much as you had this very specific and exciting thing happen and then sort of let it peter out. You could still use it if you also committed to actually showing your protagonists change over time a little bit better; as it was it seemed like he got over it in about two and a half conversations. I think for the most part, all of this was a consequence of the lower word-count, and I think that you’ll need to make some deliberate choices in the future about how many scenes you can do full justice two within your word count. Place: Low-Middle A Natural Selection Oof. This is one of those stories that really isn’t spectacularly bad, but in a middle-of-the-road week ended up sticking out as much weaker than its fellows. A very unlikable protagonist, a paper-thin foil with opaque motivations, overly-specific cultural references (I got to be the one to explain corncobbing in the judge chambers), and an incredibly abrupt ending that landed right before any real action or conflict started. I feel like you probably ran into word count issues, and it really shows. Typically, if you have to cut part of a longer story, you want to cut the beginning, not the end, and this is why. You could have found a way to work all your setup into the actual action of your story and it would done a lot to make up for the issues with this story, and would have given you some opportunity to redeem (or give comeuppance to!) your protagonist. Again, I think this would have scraped by with a DM at worst, but you had the misfortune to be in a low-turnout, reasonable-quality week. Sorry. :/ Place: Low, Loss Swimming and Sinking Others have already said it, but I’ll say it again: this story seemed to be about one thing, and then very abruptly became about something else, and it was jarring. While that can sometimes work really well, I don’t think that it did here, which is a shame, since the world that you’ve come up with is interesting, and I would have liked to see more of it. I think that you probably suffered from overambition and the dreaded “withholding information to try to keep the mystery going” that I talked about in Exmond’s crit. I think that maybe you intended the portal to be a metaphor as well, but if that was the case I don’t think that it was clear enough. These factors ended up making this feel like a sliver of a story, and was about as satisfying as cake crumbs. I would be interested to see you expand on this idea more, since I do think that there’s something there worth pursuing, but it just needs quite a bit more room to breathe, and maybe a more straightforward lead-in. Place: High-Middle
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Jan 9, 2019 23:21
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sebmojo posted:I am disappointed that no-one is willing to chance a hellrule, but I suppose there's no particular shame in being worthless. Gimme summa that hellshit.
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Jan 12, 2019 02:08
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https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7100&title=Gestalt
curlingiron fucked around with this message at 08:59 on Dec 29, 2019 |
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Jan 14, 2019 06:01
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Whoops, forgot flashrules: Crocodile Everyone alive is, finally, absolutely equal.
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Jan 14, 2019 06:03
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sebmojo posted:I should be able to, but: Satan. Yeah, I’ll take one. Thanks, Seb!
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Jan 16, 2019 03:23
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SlipUp posted:In. The Mug Tree - Yale, IL
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Jan 23, 2019 05:41
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magnificent7 posted:What is UP fart stacks! You get North Yungas Road, AKA Death Road, in Bolivia
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Jan 23, 2019 23:51
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Flesnolk posted:In, flash You get Bagh-e Sangi, or the Garden of Stones - Sirjan, Iran
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Jan 24, 2019 03:21
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CascadeBeta posted:In, flash me, You get Angkor Wat, in Cambodia.
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Jan 25, 2019 01:57
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sebmojo posted:Yes i will extremely judge that. On the fair assumption that exmod accepts, your prompt is an anime tragedy in three acts, with no obviously japanese words or tropes. 1500 words max, 18 feb 2359 pst. Toxx up. And congrats. This is bullshit. Brawl. e: Anime, specifically, is bullshit.
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Feb 4, 2019 19:44
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Sham bam bamina! posted:Yes i will extremely judge that. On the fair assumption that sebmolo accepts, your prompt is a serious exploration of and engagement with Japanese culture that is not anime, manga, video games, visual novels, J-pop, or any of that poo poo. 2k words by (not on) the 22nd (starting midnight PST). I hate you.
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Feb 4, 2019 19:55
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Bolt Lux posted:Fartful stories, some of which are quacking me up! ftfy
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Feb 12, 2019 23:40
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Pham Nuwen posted:Stop trying to make Umaru happen.
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Feb 19, 2019 19:14
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 CurlingMojo Japanese Culture Brawl Entry Neko Kawaigari 1350 words I’m walking behind Jiro, watching him weave slightly through the street lights. He’s just finished drinking with coworkers, and is walking home. There are only a few people around, but I’m waiting until he’s alone - it’s much easier to fool one person at a time. Eventually, the streets are empty, except for him and me. I pull my coat closer around me, and allow my footsteps to be heard. “Ozaki-san!” I call to him, and run a few paces as he turns around, striving to keep my balance in my high heels. “It is you! What a coincidence!” I know he doesn’t recognize me - I’ve made sure of it - but he’s too polite to say otherwise, and I’ve got his name right, after all. I put a flush on my cheeks to match his own, and smile a little wider, adding a tinge of real hurt into my expression. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me? Igarashi Chiyoko? We had classes together in University!” “Of course I remember!” he says, smiling back at me reassuringly, and I allow a little relief to show in my face. “How have you been?” I lean towards him confidingly and say “Actually I’m glad I ran into you - I’ve been feeling like someone’s been following for a little while and it’s giving me the creeps. Do you mind if I walk with you?” My blouse is open a little at the top, and although he’s too polite to look directly, I know he’s noticed. I’ve gotten a pretty good sense of human men over the years, and I’ve known Jiro longer than anyone else. “Not at all,” he says. “What way do you live?” “Not too far,” I say. “My place is in Ebisunocho. I promise that I won’t inconvenience you too much.” We walk together for a while and make small talk. I can’t help but admire his profile; it’s changed so much over the years, and every time I come back to see him it seems like he’s become more himself. I blow on my hands a bit as if to warm them, and then pull my jacket a little closer around me. “I can’t believe it’s gotten so cold already!” I say. Jiro glances down at me in surprise. “I’m surprised you can even feel the cold in that coat,” he says. It’s sweet that he doesn’t make any further comment on the coat, since it’s not exactly inconspicuous - a cloud of white fur with calico patches around the collar, and very obviously quite old, both fashion-wise and in wear-and-tear. I lift the hood and pull it up a little. “Oh, this? It’s been in my family forever, you know? I always remember my grandmother wearing it when I was a kid, and I couldn’t bear to part with it when she passed away.” I let that settle between us for a moment, and then continue. “Do you think I’m strange, to want to keep something so old around? I know it’s not the fashion these days, but wearing it makes me feel closer to her.” “Not at all,” he says, and I see the serious boy that I used to know. “I think it’s important to honor the objects that remind us of the past. History is more than records, after all; sometimes it’s also the things that our ancestors chose to keep.” I feel a real flush in my face, and it’s all I can do to stare at Jiro for a few seconds. He seems to misinterpret my silence, and begins an apology, but I cut him off. “Sorry, I just… I felt for a moment like you were reading my mind.” I look down at my hands again and smile. It’s nice to hear Jiro really speak his mind, even if I did have to pave the way for him a bit. He was such a timid child, and had such a hard time talking to others, it makes my heart leap to hear him be so honest with a stranger. I give myself a moment to recover and start again. “Did you ever have something like that? Something old that no one else saw value in but you?” Jiro looks up at the sky for a moment, as if considering what he wants to say next. “I did, but you might think that I’m childish if I tell you what it is,” he says after a little while. “Oh, come on!” I say, playfully slapping him on the arm. “What, are you worried that I’ll judge you?” I lean in towards him, letting my shoulder bump against his. “Just tell me! Please?” “Well…” he says, adjusting his glasses, the way he used to as a child. “I had a toy… A carved figurine of a cat that had been in my family for a long time. I used to keep it on my windowsill, and tell it about my day. I even brought it to school one time to show the kids at school, but they made fun of me - I think when I said that I was going to bring my favorite thing to school they thought it would be something cool like a Gundam or a stag beetle, but instead it was this little wooden cat with the paint rubbed off its nose. It’s just as well, though, since if it had been something cool like that they probably would have just taken it from me.” “Ah, little kids can be so mean,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even against the memories his words have brought up in me. “Do you still have it, then? The cat?” “No,” he says, and I hear the regret in his voice. “It was gone when I came home one day from school. I asked my Mom, but she swore she didn’t take it. I always figured she or my Dad must have hidden it, maybe to try to get me to make more friends. And it worked, eventually, so I guess I can’t blame them too much. I just wish that they would admit it.” “Hmm,” I say, and I can feel my pulse pick up a little in my chest. “Well, maybe they didn’t actually take it, did you ever consider that?” “Then who did?” he says with a laugh. “Did it just get up and walk off on its own?” “Well, didn’t you say it was pretty old? Maybe it became a tsukumogami.” Jiro laughs. “What, it actually came to life? Like a yokai? Come on, I’m not a little kid. Anyway, there’s no way that it was that old.” “Well, I bet that’s what happened,” I say with an air of confidence. I loop my arm through his as we walk down the street. “I bet that the cat loved you so much that it left so you could learn to make real friends, like you said. Maybe she even comes back every so often to check on you.” I lean my head against his arm and sigh. “Yep, that’s probably it.” I can feel Jiro stiffening in discomfort next to me, and I take a deep breath of his scent before I look back up at his face. “Who-” he says, but I reach up and kiss his cheek before he can say anything else. His memories of the last twenty minutes come away with me, a tiny jewel under my tongue, and I slip away into the shadows of the cross streets. After a few moments, Jiro shakes himself, and then looks around and keeps walking. I watch him go, rolling the jeweled memories of our time together between my fingers. I put it in my pocket, with all the others. Someday I’ll come back to him and tell him who I am, or maybe I’ll show up again as a little wooden cat to sit on his child’s windowsill. Tonight, though, I have my memories - and his, too, come to think of it. That’s enough. After all, no one loves quite like a cat.
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Feb 25, 2019 07:55
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Cool okay let's do this. In.
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Apr 9, 2019 23:01
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Prompt: M. Propagandalf's "Some Coercion Required" Hunter of Monsters 816 words Jacob is already drunk when I approach him. I sit at his table, and smile, and I know that I have him. My eyes are blue tonight, my features the picture of gentile beauty. I wear the clothes of a lower-class woman who might consider it worth her time to approach a wealthy man, even if he was a Jew. From Jacob’s predatory smile, I seem to have gotten the look right. He is a big man, with broad shoulders. An oversized banker who likes to pretend at being one of the common folk, but forgets to limit his spending to what a real dock worker might spend. I smile and laugh at his jokes, and dutifully pretend to choke on the fiery liquor he coaxes me to try. By the time I’m stumbling out of the bar, I have him following close behind. We’ve barely made it through the doors before he’s pawing at my breasts through my coat, pressing his mouth roughly against mine. The pins in my blonde hair catch at his fingers as pulls me towards the back alley. I wonder how many times he’s done this sort of thing before, and my lip curls involuntarily at the thought of him rutting like an animal in the dark. The place will suit my purposes just fine, though. Jacob shoves me against a wall and begins fumbling with the fly of his pants. I glance at the mouth of the alley, but no one is there; even if there were, they would be unlikely to come to the aid of a Jew who had spent the last few hours downing expensive whiskey and flirting with a pretty blonde while the rest of them nursed cheap beer. I reach out and grasp Jacob’s collar, shove him hard enough for him to hit the opposite wall. The wind knocked out of him, Jacob stares up at me in disbelief before the old spark of rage hits his eyes. “You crazy bitch!” he manages to gasp out. I chuckle a little at that. I put my foot on his chest as he struggles to rise, and shove him back to the ground. “Stay down,” I say, and Jacob’s eyes widen with fear as his limbs lose their strength. “Mikshofe,” he says. Witch. “Oh, so the little boy remembers his Hebrew? No, Jacob,” I say, leaning down to put my face close to his. “Mifletzet.” Monster. I let my true nature into my features for a moment, and the blood drains from his face. “Please,” he says. “I have a wife, a family!” “Oh yes,” I say, with a smile. “A wife, a family. You have these things, do you not, Jacob? Rachel would cry so if you were to be killed. Such a sweet girl. Too sweet a girl to leave alone on a cold night such as this and seek comfort in the arms of a goy, surely? And yet here you are, Jacob.” “It was a mistake, please-” “I know you, Jacob. I can smell the sin on you. You cannot hide from G-d, and you cannot hide from me.” I reach for his throat and squeeze. I have the strength to make this quick, painless, but the beast in me hungers. We have a deal, the beast and I - the beast will feed, but we only hunt for monsters. Tonight represents the culmination of weeks of surveillance and planning, and I do not wish to let it end so soon. “Mercy,” Jacob croaks out, and my rage flares. “Mercy, Jacob? Mercy? Where was mercy when you beat your dear sweet Rachel for being too weary from carrying your child to clean to your standards? Where was mercy when she lost the baby and you beat her all over again? Where is mercy, when men such as you can show their faces before G-d, pious and holy, while your dear, sweet Rachel weeps?” My voice grows more bestial with every word, and by the time I’m finished I realize the light has gone out of Jacob’s eyes. My fingers turn into claws and rip through the flesh of his throat in my frustration, at my rage yet unvented. The animal within me salivates at the sight of blood, and I allow it the indulgence of savaging the lifeless husk that was once Jacob. The body is no good now, anyway, not looking like this. No one will believe that this is anything than what it is: unnatural. I stand and straighten my hair, already turning black under my touch. Tonight, I will dispose of Jacob’s body. Tomorrow I will be Bubbe Leah, who was sent to check on Rachel by the landsmanschaften, the hometown society. Tomorrow there will be new plans to make, new faces to remember. But for now it is enough that there is one fewer monster left in the world.
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Apr 15, 2019 07:03
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In!
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Apr 20, 2019 02:14
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https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7357&title=Mount+and+Rider
curlingiron fucked around with this message at 08:58 on Dec 29, 2019 |
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Apr 22, 2019 06:20
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Chili posted:Take 3 more hours, or whenever one of my esteemed West Coast co-judges goes to sleep, to submit any last-minute stories to scrape by without a DQ. But, no diamond capsules for you last-minute Charlies. Those are reserved for the good little domers who got their stories in on time. And we’re done! Goodnight, sweet Dome, and Happy Birthday! 
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Jul 29, 2019 08:00
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I’ve already got a title, so count me in!
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Aug 7, 2019 06:32
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PROMPT: Dinosaurs helped build the pyramids. The Last Hootenanny 822 words By the time Maribelle was staring down at the foamy pink bile pooling on the sandstone beneath her feet, she knew there was no way this night was going to recover. “Oh Lord Jesus, no!” The words came out as a long moan, cut short by her body’s continuing attempt to punish her for her bad decisions. She wiped her mouth and started a half-hearted attempt to kick sand over the mess. Maybe no one will notice that I puked all over the Valley of the Kings. Because Keava would be the kind of person to hold a party in the most obscenely ostentatious location on Earth, wouldn’t she? And Anton would be the kind to invite Maribelle to come with him, and pay for the flights, and the ludicrously expensive hotel that would be the fanciest place she would ever stay in, and buy her a dress, and treat her like a princess, and introduce her to all his friends at his ex-girlfriend’s ridiculous party… ...where she would promptly do nothing but ask the world’s stupidest questions, drink entirely too much $500 wine, and drunkenly call Keava’s elegant soirée a helluva hootenanny. Because why the hell wouldn’t she? And of course everyone tittered politely, but she could hear the embarrassment in Anton’s voice, and the sneer in Keava’s, and the condescension in everyone else’s. But the ancient stones beneath her feet had refused to swallow her whole, so she’d run away like a hound with its tail between its legs to go vomit into the sand and try to bury it. She grabbed at the tiny, beautiful clutch that was absolutely too small to hold anything remotely useful, and thanked all the gods and Pharaohs that she had stubbornly stuffed a travel pack of tissues into the damned thing. She pulled one out and wiped her mouth, desperately wishing the bag had also had room for a pack of gum. She was barely surprised when the tissue came back red with the first drops of a bloody nose. Her body seemed to fold in on itself of its own volition as she sank to the ground. Red drops glanced off the fabric of her dress and dashed themselves on the surface of her vomit. Belatedly, she held her nose with the tissue while she squeezed her eyes shut against the hot tears forming in them. God almighty, why does this always happen to me? “Blood, wine, and salt water,” a chirpy voice said from near her feet. “Your offering has been recognized, rmT. What is your request?” Maribelle opened her eyes and looked down at the lizard sitting primly where her half-buried vomit had been moments before. The little creature had sandy scales tinged pink at the edges, and blood-red eyes that looked up at her dewily. She shook her head in confusion. “What in the hell is wrong with me?” she said around the tissue still held firmly to her nose. “What it your request?” said the lizard again. “Oh Lord, I just want this to be over.” “Confirmation: you wish an end to be brought about?” “Yes! Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph, yes! Just leave me to die already!” Maribelle rolled onto her side and turned her back on the lizard. Anton would come looking for her soon, and in the meantime she would just lie here and allow herself to be miserable. There was no way the night could was going get any worse, after all. Moments later, she was asleep. With her eyes closed, Maribelle did not see the sky light up to the North, as hundreds of miles away, the Great Pyramids lit the sky with beams of fire. She did not see the ghostly figure blink to life where the lizard had once sat, nor did she note its reptilian countenance as it spoke: “To you, oh sons of man who we once called friends,” said the apparition. “We are pleased to find that the ancient ways have not been forgotten, although we mourn the circumstances that must have brought you here. For you to have called forth the Summoning, a great evil must have come upon your surface world, one that left you no choice but to use the great weapons we bequeathed to you. Although we always hoped that you would join us in the stars, we knew that there was always a possibility that this would happen. Know that your friendship will not be forgotten, and your end will be swift. Go in peace, friends.” Maribelle heard none of this. By the time Anton found her, there would be no sign of the message, or what had transpired. In the sky above, a tiny point of light slowly began growing in intensity as a heavenly body changed its course. It would be hours before anyone realized what this shift meant to humanity, but it didn’t matter. On the ground, the hootenanny continued on.
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Aug 12, 2019 03:29
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EXTREMELY LATE INTERPROMPT ATTN: All VoidMart Employees SUBJ: Banned Individuals Name: S_______ B_______ Date: 12/05/20__  Incident: Customer brought outside food into the store, thus upsetting the careful hierarchy of produce. Open war was declared between the Banana Guerrilla Fighters and the Potentate of Grapes; stock was decimated before the offending food item was identified and ejected from the store. Name: ⊕_______ ∀_______ Date: 03/12/19__  Incident: Customer stole and ingested approximately 100 lbs of Golden Bean Supreme Caffeine Light Roast Coffee beans. Customer immediately vibrated out of phase with all known VoidMart properties, but should be escorted from the premises should they re-manifest. ⋰ͭͭ̄̈̃͢_____ ∝̛ͬ̚ Date: III/IV/CCX__  Incident: C̕ust͡o͘m҉e͜r̀ ̴b́rok̕e ͜įn̛to ͏ba͡c҉k̀ s̕to̸re͠ r̶oom̸ a͢nd̨ stole ͏o͞ne͘ o͘f th̸e̡ U͏̛͢ņ̸́s͏p̵҉̶ea̷͘k͟ab̴l̡͏҉e҉ Obj͏ec̷ts̵̛.̵͢ ̢͞C͜͟͝U͜ST̸͘͜OME̢̧͡R̨ ͟M̵͠US҉́͞T B͠E̢ ̴̶̵T̨͝R͝E̷͞A͝T͝E͡D ҉AS ҉A̴̸̛ ̸MA͡T̴E͡R͢͠͡I̢͞A͜L͏̢͟ A̷̷N̵͘Ḑ̶̢͞͠ ̴́̕Ę̶͟X͏̕͟͜Í̷S̨̀͝T̴̵̷͠E̵N̨͏͞T̵̀͢͞I̡̨̧͜͝A҉̷̢L̴҉͟ ̢͡҉͏͞T̨́͢H̛͢Ŕ̷̵E̵̸̕A̢̕T̡͏̴́͘.͏͡ ̢͟͜͏F̸̀A҉̢̢̧I̴̡̕͢͟Ĺ̵̀́Ư̷̸̢Ŕ̡͏̛E̵̶̵̛͞ ͏̨̛́T҉̶̷̛O̕҉ ̵̛D͏̵́͠O̴̴̢͡ ̷̨͠͝͝S͘Ơ̷̡̢͜ ̶͠W̴Ì̶̡L̵̷L̛ ͏̧͢͞H̷̢́͘͜A̶̛҉͘V̢̛̛͜͡E̶̵͞ ̴̸̢C̶͝Ơ̛͢͠N҉̵̛҉Ś͢҉̕҉E̕͠Q͜͜Ù̀E҉͢N̶̷̡͟Ç̶̡͜E̷̡̨S̨̧͝҉̛.̸͜͢͢͡ Name: HELPHELPHELP HELPHELPHELP Date: HELPHELPHELPHELP  Incident: HELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELP
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Oct 15, 2019 18:02
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In Early post to claim my cat as my important thing.
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Nov 12, 2019 14:29
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Carl Killer Miller posted:
 curlingiron posted:In
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Nov 13, 2019 02:02
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 09:08 |
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https://thunderdome.cc/?story=7828&title=Long+Live+the+King
curlingiron fucked around with this message at 08:57 on Dec 29, 2019 |
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Nov 18, 2019 06:24
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