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Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
I'll judge


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
My Fiance Will Not Be Attending My Wedding

925 Words

I know this sounds horrible, but bear with me. I (25F) disinvited my fiancee (23M), weíll call him Jake, from my wedding. This is truly for our own good.

So, a little backstory. We had been dating, on and off, while in college. He was the first serious boyfriend I had ever had. We met in class when I caught him cheating off my bio midterm. I know, thatís terrible, but I guess I was looking for a bad boy, and there he was. Turns out he wasnít so much a bad boy as he was a guy with a learning disability who was hosed by the system. We worked together to get ourselves through college and we even moved in together during our senior year. That decision was a costly one as my parents did not approve of him at all. First he wasnít right for me because he was Jewish, then he wasnít right for me because his height was Ďimposing?í, then they finally landed on ďheís just not good enough for youĒ. This extended to them cutting me off financially. Not a huge deal as I had a scholarship but it certainly made living more difficult.

So, I helped him with his school work, and he helped me make rent. And hey, my cat loved him and still does, and he doesnít like anybody.

Cut to 5 months ago, weíd been living together for years, happy as hell, and he suggested a road trip to Atlantic City. He admitted that it wasnít what it once was when he was younger, but that it was an important part of his childhood. He doesn't usually get excited about stuff so I was really happy to go. He took me on a tour of all of his favorite pizza places and I did my best to pretend like I could tell the difference between them. When we got the last one, a charming little place called Roccoís, he sat me down and told me that it was at this pizza place, that his grandfather had proposed to his grandmother.

The man I loved was about to ask me what Iíd wanted to hear for years. I was so caught up in how I felt however, that I wasnít paying attention to him. He struggled through the story and fell short of breath as he ramped up to the proposal. When he went to reach for the ring, he passed out and face planted right into his slice of mushroom and pepperoni.

And itís been like this. Every. Step. Of The Way. Pick a caterer? pass out, choose a band? pass out? picking colors, same deal.

Heís so psyched about being married to me, but anytime we even broach the idea of the wedding itself, he freaks out. Iím so happy that when we discussed the issue of asking for my parentís permission we both agreed it was stupid. My father once told me on a phone call that if Jake ever came around asking for something like that, heíd only say yes if Jake could manage to read the first page of Machiavelliís The Prince, outloud.

Anyway, weíve been to therapy together, and heís been by himself, but thereís just no way around this. It does make sense, I guess. The last Big Thing like this for him was his Bar Mitzvah and his learning disability made reading all of that Hebrew nearly impossible. It apparently didnít go well, and he doesnít like to talk about it.

Hereís the deal: I almost hate to admit it because Iím not generally That Way, but I have been thinking about my wedding ever since I was a little girl. It does matter to me, but it seemed like it was only worrying him. So, one day, after we scrubbed his vomit out of the curtains, when I jokingly suggested that maybe we just didnít need to have a wedding and could just be married, and I saw his face light up, my heart did kind of break.

The thing I wanted most was the thing that sent him to panic.

Hence, my great idea.

I asked him how we would feel if he didnít have to be at the wedding, but that it could still happen. Naturally, he found the idea to be a bit ridiculous but then he realized that he was able to talk about the idea without face planting into the nachos we were eating at the time.

And the more we talked about it, the more engaged he became. Suddenly, he was my partner back! He was able to find a band, a venue, and even did all of the invitation work. He has, in short, become my partner again. We even asked one of our best friends to be his stand-in and he found the whole idea adorable.

While I am happy about this, and he is too, my family is incredibly offended. They seem to think this is a terrible red flag.

So look, I know this is unconventional, but we feel like itís what will work for us. My dad insists that him not being present for the first step of our marriage is a sign that deep down, he really doesnít love me and that heíll ultimately leave me because heíll never be comfortable.

I donít know. This is our wedding after all and I canít help but worry a bit that my judgment is clouded. Am I missing something?

Edit: yeah yeah, cat tax, sorry, I forgot, hereís the horrible beast. His name is Catamel and he is actively trying to destroy the world:

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Crits for New World week. If you want a more in-depth take, just find me on discord.

Azza Bambooís Vacancy - Assistant Production Operative

Run ní gun

I like crap shack once, Iím turning on it as a definitive title of a thing.

(She introduces me to Bash, who is built like a tank, and has scars lining his face)

(She introduces me to Bash, heís built like a tank, and scars line his face)
^less clunky

Gore-store is also fun, youíre pretty good at naming things.

(She leads me through a rusted door; it groans.
Bash heaves the rusted gate; It whines.)

Little heavy handed with the semi-colons and also redundant/lack of interest in how youíre phrasing things.

Weird use of emdash that first time.

The bone paragraph isnít reading as nicely as I think you want it to. Itís messy and hard to parse.

I donít know enough about what the kanga rats are or how they look. You spent more time building the world than building them up.

(Thatís why I say "I will be there tomorrow.") lose Ďthatís why I sayí.

About ⅔ of the way through and Iím finding little to care about here.

Getting a little lost in the blocking of the action.


So some mundane poo poo happens early, then thereís a lot of action at the end. Throughout the whole story I couldnít find much of a reason to root for anyone or to empathize with the characters in your story. Your descriptions of the world are probably what shines through the most here. I did, often, feel like I was there. But, I want a better sense of what these kanga rats are and how they move through space.

Noahís Ocean With No End

Digging the vibe. Thereís a character named Shaka-Brah.

Sorry, think this is gonna be one of those stories where I donít have much to say because Iím too busy enjoying it.

( Kenís gut felt like heíd eaten an urchin,) bleh
(but you left early, I tried to flag you down, but you took off.Ē) bleh

The midpoint is kinda losing me, thereís suddenly a plot and Iím not really as into it.

Lot of passive phrasing, especially toward the end.


This started off promising. I liked the world you built and the way you characterize your dudes, but as a storyÖ not so much. Kinda lost my interest when the detective showed up. Felt superfluous at that point. I just wanted to surf with these orangutans

Brotherlyís Hemp Bonds

Not enjoying the voice here. Worried itís not going to be consistent. If youíre gonna do the Ďwhateverí thing you gotta start that poo poo in the first graph and really loving commit to it.

Yikes on these tenses.

So gently caress, is this just a Ďlol apes gmeí story or something?

This sorta stuff (I knew I was all sleaze: tall, slicked-back hair, black pinstriped suit.) is getting mighty tiring.

Now weíre kinda shifting into a noir voice? What even is this?

Who says this ďThose dope fiends were too busy loving in vast yurts atop, like, hemp blankets, or whatever.Ē And also this ďMonica said, her voice acidly polite.Ē

ďI mean, you are the Expanding Tisser Empire, after all.Ē grooooooooan


This story doesnít seem to know what it wants to be. Iím unclear on your vision or what you were trying to do here. The voice is all over the place, and Iím not entirely sure what the whole tisser thing is even about or how it relates to the overall thrust of the action here.

Naeís A Tiger Can Change His Stripes

Between the title being a nod at a cliche and the opening being a pop cultural reference, Iím not exactly starting off with the rosiest of dispositions as I begin reading this.

Good sense of place and the writing is clear through the first beat.

I do feel like the judge this week specifically said Ďiím tired of so much talkingí and this story is basically nothing but.

Thatís actually a pretty big quibble now that Iím paying attention. What are these characters actually doing while theyíre talking so much, this reads as pretty flat.

(Cheddarís leg bounced up and down against his seat. Lieutenant Temple cocked her ears at him. .) like thatís something but I didnít even know they were sitting. Paint the picture a bit more yíknow?

Meeeeh at the ending.


Ok so this wasnít awful. So far itís the clearest thing Iíve read but man, so much stinkin chatter. When I read things like this I want to see it in my mind and Iím not getting much by way of movement or blocking that interests me at all.

Flerpís the thin line between now and later

Donít have any run ní gun for you.


As usual, your stuff just kills me. I read this quickly, without stopping, and was hooked. My biggest critique, I guess, is this doesnít quite feel totally in spirit with the prompt. This feels like it could happen in a boring place with boring people. Why I like it so much is that it addresses the pain of the unknown and even though itís heavy it wasnít a total downer to read.

Steeltoedsneakersís New Dialect

Run Ní Gun

You establish what the devils are, quickly, and effectively. Thank you.

Reading this fairly quickly and enjoying it.

(The bug knew what she meant. It was a tough situation.) You donít need either of these sentences.

(The night and all itís cacophony drew nearer), caught ya

Got some gnarly tense shifts in here.



I liked this a lot, for a bit. I connected with Rayna, she made sense to me, was a character I wanted to root forÖ.

I donít really get much of anything with the bug, certainly not the ending. Itís kinda nice that it seems to be a happy one but it doesnít quite feel earned or necessary. I mean, yeah, Rayna figures out a way to cope and be mindful but that is kind of its own reward, you donít get all that validation from a magical bug wall, that kinda takes some of the power out of it for me.

QuoProQuidís Confessions of a Lion President: I Was a Teenage Content Creator

Run ní Gun

Good lord thatís a dumb opening that I like very much. The only way Iím gonna be ok with these ridiculous cat bastardizations is if you keep them going for the whole story.

OK, so this president is starting to seem kinda familiar in placesÖ

(The vice president pursed his lips. ďIndeed,Ē he said dryly. ) biggest laugh out of me this week so far.

(ďOh, there you go again you go again, yucking our presidentís yum,Ē) woops

Oh goodness, this ending.


Iím going to bat for this story. You committed to something incredibly silly and you didnít let up. It got laughs out of me.

Thranguyís Phase Changes

Run Ní Gun

Opening reads like it wants to be a hook, but it doesnít feel very hooky.

What even is that second beat?

OK, Iím following enoug now and I generally like these kinds of stories, glimpses at periods in time and what have you and youíre doing a pretty decent job of it. The connective tissue of training is about to run out though, curious to see whatís next.

Liking the wayward quality of the protag, liking less this last minute introduction of a new character.

Not entirely sure what happened at the end there but it still feels somewhat satisfying.


Aptly titled story. You handle these various scenes well and Rhyme is very well characterized. It does feel like this would have been better suited for a novel. I wanted to see more of each beat, which is a good thing but they did somehow feel a little incomplete as well. Well done though, this was a nice read.

Antivehicularís A Day For Black Salt

Run Ní Gun

Well this is certainly grotesque and uncomfortable.

Kinda losing interest in the chemistry part of all this, but that might because Iím not a very bright person.

OK, this is kinda above my station, comprehension wise.


I didnít understand much of what was going on and why. To quote my grandfather at the movies Ďwhoís the goody and whoís the baddy?í

Iím not entirely sure if the deeds here are sinister or somehow virtuous in line with the universes rules. The prose is nice and itís still a pleasant read but I donít quite know what to take away from this.

a friendly penguinís Spy Walks into a Bar

Run Ní Gun

That whole first beat felt all too real. Well done.

Iím confused by the action in the bar.

Yeah, and I think because I didnít get it early, Iím not quite following whatís going on as the story continues.


The prose is slick and efficient and the opening is great but it kinda loses interest for me as it pushes on. I canít quite tell what Talik is doing or why heís doing it.

sebmojoís You donít have to be, but it helps.

Run Ní Gun

Solid opening. But then, I donít know. You kind of meander around a bit with a whole bunch of explanation and arenít really getting to the story.

And as this goes along, it still isnít much of a story.

But by golly, itís still a fun read.


Yeah, the voice of this is strong enough to carry it through, and the ending does bring home some closure and a bit of a twist on whatís going on. Itís solid enough.

Baneling Buttsís The Killers

Run Ní Gun

Starting the story off with a cold conversation is a bold choice and itís not doing you many favors here. The back and forth between the protag and the grandma isnít doing much for me and I donít care enough about what Iím reading.

Lots of adjectives you donít need.

I donít care about these people.

Why is this so procedural?


I kept glazing over as I was reading this and thatís a problem give as thereís all of this whacky poo poo in it that should be pretty attention-grabbing. I just never found myself engaged in any of what was going on here.

Sperglord Firecockís Bat Mission

Run Ní Gun

Goodness, why did this story have to follow the one I just read in my random order? Itís suffering from the same problems of things just being and then and then and then and youíre not giving me any reason to care at all.

This character reminds me of Samus, in that she does cool spacey things and I donít know anything else about her.


Iíve obviously seen you swing better than this, the lack of investment is an issue here though. Try to treat your characters as special dudes as opposed to vehicles for your story. Hell, look at what sebmojo did this week, there wasnít even a story, just a pretty well voiced character and that got him an HM.

crabrockís Forever Young

Run Ní Gun

Getting Dorian Gray vibes early on but this the opening is more flowery than it needs to be.

Once The Game gets going and sheís asking questions though, this becomes an easy read for me.

The sudden violence was a bit jarring. The catharsis at the end was as well.


It seems like you wrote this story backward. Not sure if you did though. I like working toward that ending and having it feel poignant. At the same time, though I appreciate that you have somewhat of aÖ minor relief, it isnít exactly earned and we donít know what Annie does or doesnít deserve here. Canít tell if this is a place of judgement or whathaveyou.

But anyway, itís a complex premise thatís handled well and the story is a gripping read.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Throwing out a dibs on judging this brawl. I'll have a prompt when I get home momentarily

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
OK curlingiron and yoruichi. You're two of my favorite domers and it just breaks my heart to see you fight like this.

You're both being punished for acting in such a manner.

As such, write me a story in which your protag is dealing with being punished. And not natural consequences, or self-inflicted consequences. Society, in whatever way you would like to conceive it for the story, has deemed your protag to be sent to the pit or something. Got it? Maybe they did the vile thing they've been punished for, maybe not. Your choice!

Take until 4/1 to get this thing done. I don't care what time.
Spend no more than 2,000 words.

Also, each of you must pick one song from this curated list of five as a starting point for your inspiration. I don't really need to see it too intensely in your story.

Act quickly, you can't each claim the same one. Pick your song, post it, then get to typing. See you in a couple weeks, and for the love of the thunder gods, I hope this is the last time.

The Robo Pick :
The Movin' Along Pick:
The Cheeky Pick:
The Yeah! gently caress it! Pick :
The Tough Love Pick:

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Yeah, I'm in.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Week 450 Entry

1,350 Words

He's the prettiest boy I've ever seen. I notice him when my eyes wander from the graphs on the board in pre-calc. He's in the alley between my building and the one just over next.

He's in a black blazer with sunflower patterned pads sewn into the elbows and artfully tattered jeans that are just torn enough to reveal glimpses of what seems to be a spiderweb tattoo on his caramel-colored skin. The ends of his curled brown hair stick out from underneath a newsboy hat. His left foot rests on the building's brick wall while he leans on it. Between his index and middle finger, he holds a single, burning cigarette.

I want to see him inhale. I want to imagine the feeling of heat entering my lungs as it does his. I want to see him move.

He doesn't. He just stands there, his eyes transfixed on my building.

"Daniel!" The teacher calls. I snap out of my fantasy and don't even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassment. She moves on to her lesson. I peek back out the window.

He's gone.


I don't ask about him; I can't. I keep looking out the window in pre-calc, hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. Weeks pass. I give up. It's when I do that I see him in the halls. No backpack on his back and his newsboy hat is gone to reveal a swirl of a neon color running through his hair. He passes by me. I don't say a thing.

I trail him to a classroom. I recognize some of the people following in after him. They're seniors; he's a senior. Two months left of school, and he'll probably never set foot in this building again.


One week left of school. I have intel. His name is Marc Gonzalez, but he goes by Gonzo. He's a tech theater kid, and he's a wizard with lights. He's already gotten a job offer with the biggest theater in Baltimore, and he's not planning on going to college. He's dated a handful of people in his class, guys and girls, and there's a nagging rumor going around about weekly after-hours meetings he has with the director of the program.

The juicy swirling rumors are intoxicating in their own right and challenge the lukewarm doings discussed at my cozy little yearbook meetings. It's far too easy for me to abandon what my parents have told me are my interests in favor of having lunch by the artistic magnet wing. It's at the other end of the school, and it's explosively alive with challenging artwork adorning the walls and the humming of brass pounding through the doors.

But the best is the black box theater.

I peek through the skinny window on the door during rehearsals and admire the stage. Gonzo is unseen. His work is not. The lights touch everything and everyone, and I want for nothing but to cross through the threshold and feel the lights tickle my skin.

I'm so lost in my fantasy that I don't hear the approaching footfalls on the other side of the door. It flies open and collides into my face in a mist of blood.

I come to in the nurse's office. The injury isn't as bad as all that, but the shock and the sight of blood finished me off. An old friend from the before Gonzo days is there. She puts her arm on my shoulder and says encouraging things. I ask if my accident made a scene, and to my horror, she reveals that everyone saw it.


If I had time, I'd lay low for a month. But there are only a few short days left before school ends. There's too much activity at the black box to miss as the seniors get ready for their last student-directed show.

Classes have ended for the day, and only the theater kids and athletes are left. I sit in the hall on the floor, with an old guitar I found in my dad's closet. Noodling with it hides me pretty effectively.

The doors to the theater fly open, and out he comes. He glances at me, nods, and moves along to the alley exit. The same alley I saw him standing in months ago.

I screw up my courage and set the guitar down on the floor as I exit out the side door leading to the alley where I first saw him months ago. I open the door, and see him there, cigarette in hand. He doesnít turn toward me, just keeps looking straight ahead.

"You've been following me, haven't you?"

It occurs to me that I have no plan. But he's tipped something: he's noticed me. I stand there and say nothing.

"Yeah," he lifts his cigarette and pulls deeply from it. The light from the end casts an amber light on his face. "You've been following me."

I say nothing back. He's right, and he caught me, but he didn't tell me to leave. Maybe it's that he's a head taller than me and carries with him all of the swagger in the world, but I feel how little of a threat I am to him.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm leaning up against the wall, right next to him, and I feel a cigarette slide into my fingertips.

"Let me light it for you." It's all I've needed to hear since the moment I saw him, and when he does, I feel the redness swell up in my cheeks. I bring it up to my lips. He pushes my hands down.

"You've never had one before, have you?" he asks.

And in my first successful communication, I shake my head.

"Just hold it. It's still comforting in its own way."

So I do, glancing at him when I can. With perfect timing, he brings the cigarette to his face, artfully lighting it in a warm glow, then darkens it as he lowers his hand. Then he lets just enough suspense build before he reveals it again. He continues like this, never quite establishing a rhythm to the pattern. I'm so busy watching his show that I'm not paying attention to the cigarette Iím holding. Fortunately, Gonzo notices that I'm about to set my fingers on fire, and he reaches out and grabs my hand. He gives it a shake and sends the cigarette to the ground where he carelessly stubs it out with his Clarks.

He lights another and hands it to me.

"Why me?" he asks.

I shrug.

"I just don't get it, man. What the gently caress is it about me?"

I ask myself the question, but it seems like the craziest one I've ever heard. The only thought that comes to mind is 'just look at you.' I don't have time to hold back. So that's what I say to him.

He chuckles as he drags on the cigarette. The orange light bounces on his cheeks as he shakes his head.

"You know. I'm afraid of everything. Whatever you think I am, you're way off."

I can't help but let out a little laugh, and he stops me. "I'm serious, Daniel."

He knows my name, and he is scolding me. My heart has no idea what to do.

"You've got more guts than me. You saw me, wanted me, and here you are. Then there's me. You think I have any interest in running lights for the rest of my life? Staying behind the scenes like that? gently caress it, man."

"What's keeping you in?"

"It's the only safe place left."

He stubs out the last cigarette and pulls me in close by my hip. He kisses me.

"Hope that's enough to make you happy," he says. "If I see you on my tail again, I'll kick your rear end."

He leaves me in the alley, and without him there to look at me, the fire from the cigarette continues up to my fingers and burns me as I drop it down to the ground.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Ok let's do a brawl judgement.

First, my understanding is that two of of you helped each other with your entries. You set aside your differences and worked together. So let's be clear, you're both winners.

But who's story wins? Little tougher.

Curlingiron's story suffers largely by ignoring the bomb under the table. In favor of a gripping suspenseful story, the story instead delivers a twist that doesn't really matter. If, on the other hand, we know that the bag has reason to worry from the jump, there's suddenly all of this lovely tendon to play with. The dialogue is competent and occasionally elevates to decent banter. But really, very little actually happens. This also isn't a societal punishment, it's a direct punishment from a seemingly pissed of magical entity.

Yoruichi's story did leave me feeling a bit toward the end but it's a clearly traumatized person getting enveloped in snakes. Feels a little easy. It also more directly dealt with the prompt. The characters are clearly defined and motivated and the length does indeed work. The ticking clock does provide tension and it doesn't overstay its welcome.

So between these two, I think yoruichi's story has more stuff happening in it, and is overall more efficient, economical, and evocative. But this was felt pretty drat close as both stories were very clearly written, had good dialogue, and well realized characters. So let's say Yoruichi claims two of the v's in the W and Curlingiron gets the ^.

Yoruichi takes it in a squeaker.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Beezus posted:

I volunteer to read the words as co-judge.

I can do this

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Read and judged in random order.

:sirenL The thing I am worried about, and am hopefully wrong about, this week: :siren:

Most stories will have a crotchety, clint eastwood, get-off-my-lawn, character that will be made to feel old instead of me. Prove me wrong thunderdome!

If you want something more in depth, I'm happy to chat further in discord about your words.

My Shark Waifuuís Rolliní Down in the Deep

This was nice enough. It did feature The Thing I Am Worried About, so poopoo on you for that but itís nice that John actually turns around on the boys and sees their worth. Good combo of old school and new school so the victory at the end is indeed somewhat justified. Iím left wanting for a bit more here, though. Granted you only had a thousand words to play with but the bond seems to have been formed a bit too quickly and that may be due to the fact that we donít really know where the derision or disdain from John is coming from apart from Ďlol oldí. Iíd maybe consider dialing back his attitude? On the continuum of respect it feels like these kids are starting off at a 1 or a 2 out of 10 and they end up at a 9 or 10. Thatís a tall order for a thousand words, so maybe shrink the jump a bit and consider taking this relationship to something a bit longer to more fully realize it in a believable way.

Djeserís Isabel Of Eastmuir Crag

I liked most everything about this. It was a really cool take on the prompt, and though it did kinda have The Thing I Am Worried About, The Thing was a curse spreading dragon so itís a little hard to complain. I like that Isabel felt self-determined and content but also was very clearly distant, removed, and had no concept of time or the world around her. The isolation was something she found peace in but the cost is well represented in the story. Isabel is characterized deftly and the naivety of youth is also displayed in good effect. The passages book ending the piece are a clever way to set the tone youíre after. One thing I did kind of want: I wish the story were told more from Isabaleís point of view. Weíd miss out on some of the solid world building and descriptions you have here but I think this story more from Isabelís direct thoughts as opposed to you describing them. Something to consider, but as it is, this works well.

Rhymes With Clueís Yes! And?

So letís talk about this in an improv way. I didn't know what the game of this scene was until it was far too late. I was hoping, and I think Iím right, that this was all just done in like a blackbox theater with people playing pretend, but it got super confusing. The ambition here was bold but Iím not sure if playing both sides of an improv scene, incorporating both the characters and the players behind those characters is a great choice for this form. As it was, it was quite difficult for me to make heads or tails of anything. Telling this story straight and getting out of the way of the playerís thoughts may have served you better. A twist ending that this is all just improv practice isÖ well maybe not great, but I donít know how this style of telling your story helps the reader feel much of anything or understand the flow of events. A little too much going on here to my eye.

Black Griffonís Big Crunch

This was a tough one for me to properly access. So much flowery pontificating from the protag that it was nearly impossible to actually get a sense of how they felt about the environment and the characters around them. They certainly seemed quite taken with themselves though. And itís really hard to tell what it is they were even trying to do? I get that they are there for this Ďhuman elementí which is supposed to be some nod to the old school way of doing things that the young whipper snappers just canít understand (oh hi there, The Thing I Am Worried About), but itís impossible for me to get a sense of what that actual function is. I donít know what the story is, who these characters are, or what theyíre trying to do. I do know that Lenny isnít a person that I care to understand much better or relate to.

Dome Racer Sigmaís I Just Like To Drive Fast

I donít know what the gently caress youíre up to or who you are but I said Iím reading these stories randomly, so letís hope this makes sense on its own... Upon reading it, it does make sense, but thatís about all I have to say for this. I canít tell how much of this is supposed to be what it is, or some kind of bizarre ironic wink at a formula. If itís the former the calling out of the tropes seems odd and pointless, if itís the latter I donít really know what youíre trying to accomplish or say here. It seems as though just pointing out familiar beats here is supposed to be taken as funny or interesting and itís just not really. The story progresses along the lines one would expect and by the end Iím not really entertained or intrigued.

ZearothKís Farewellm, Diana

I respect this storyís moxie. Epistolary story telling is a tough thing to get right and Iím seeing some ways for improvements to be made. First, pretty much everything leading up to The Big Letter, at the end, kind of seems unnecessary. I see that youíre trying to show the passage of time and also show how both characters are growing but I think much of that is handled and implied well enough in the final letter that you really donít need as much coverage early on. Beyond that? I donít much care for the author of these letters, and perhaps thatís the intention. They seem like kind of an rear end in a top hat who thinks they know best. Thereís good reverence and respect for who Diana seems to have become to play off that temperament. I suppose beyond that, the last entry does serve as a good contrast to the quick, relatively meaningless letters that come before it. So maybe there is some value there, now that I think about it. The imagery and metaphors feel a little overwritten towards the end but that also seems to fit the somewhat pretentious, know-better-nature of the author, so yeah that actually kind of works too. A pretty good entry, as I see it.

Yoruichiís My Body

A quite literal handling of the prompt, and deftly done. The soliloquy style here works and it resembles a lot of truth of what happens in a mind in these small moments. The turns that occur in the reflection of what the protagís body has endured are striking and feel honesty. Thereís no pity here, just appropriate frustration at what it means to get older and the determination to defy those consequences. The prompt is to address the feeling of getting old without being a downer and this serves that interest pretty much perfectly. I think one issue that I might have is this sort of recurring promise of tending to the bodyís needs later. Thereís certainly a danger to that mindset and consequences that could go along with it. Said consequences are glanced at in the very ending but not dealt with directly and perhaps Iíd like to see the body get a bit more punished, maybe throughout the story, as a consequence to the protagís attitude of Ďbugger thatí mentality that seems to have perpetuated her life.

Staggyís Missed Message

Hard for me to find something worth caring about in this. The prose is functional and effective enough but overall, Iím not left with much beyond dialogue that, again, is workable and decent but doesnít really resonate with me. Iím not sure what you want me to feel in reading this. Do you know what you want me to feel?

Dome Racer Alphaís I just like to drive fast

The other wild and crazy gimmick account left me wild and crazy underwhelmed, letís see how you do. Oh, good. Much worse. First this story probably most directly had The Thing Iím Worried About in a crotchety old character who even bothers to Ďback in my dayí somebody else. And reall? PP weiner? If youíre gonna go to the trouble of making a gimmick account can you swing for the fences? Why is this a thing? Why did you do this?

Barnaby Profaneís if you want a beautiful vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on Adam Levineís face ó forever

This feels uncrittable. I canít even believe I read this. And it doensít even gently caress with the prompt, like even a little? I have no idea who Adam Levine is and I donít imagine me knowing would improve any of this. It feels like itís supposed to be some twilight zone twisty thing that ends with a horrific concept that is intended to fill the reader with dread. I was just happy it was over.

Sailor Viyís The Old Man and the Tree

This is nice enough and Gus isnít quite The Thing That I Am Worried About for the week in that heís decently characterized and isnít just a grumpy old shitbird. Beyond that though, Iím not sure what this story is supposed to be beyond likeÖ I donít know, the opening of Up? He succeeds in the end through rules lawyering so tiís not exactly cathartic or interesting. Thereís no real thing he needs to overcome or manage and Iím wondering too if the story is more interesting if heís actually made to lose something and has to then deal with it after.

Thranguyís Pull The Mask Off

This feels like it ignores the prompt more than almost anything Iíve read so far. Maybe Iím missing something. If Iím not, thereís trouble because if a story isnít gonna address the prompt, it better be good and Iím not seeing anything that I like in here. Iím unsure of what the APEs are up to or why it matters and I canít quite understand anyoneís motivation here. I donít have much of a sense who Pauline, Kevin, or the narrator are and what their relationship is to each other or to the world around them. Iím just not getting this.

QuoProQuidís Our Time

Uh, OK. I get this and the conceit is simple and straightforward enough but like, really? This person gets visited by their future self and the suggested action is revenge on a high school boyfriend? It seems sadly uninspired and clearly the protag never grew or had anything resembling an understanding of herself. I wouldnít mind that but I get the sense that this story is supposed to make the reader go ďhell yeahĒ at the end of it and thatís just not even close to how I feel. This girl needs therapy, not to blow some oblivious dude up with a future cannon.

MockingQuantumís Warp-runner

It feels like there should be more inherent volatility on this warp thing. As it is, it just seems to be presented as this drug like addictive thing with the old guard warning the new kid to be wary. Which I guess is fine. The premise of the warp is handled relatively well and the language is colorful without descending into purple prose territory. Iím not hating this but Iím also not super excited.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Week 464 - Time Capsules

Hole Out
975 Words

An alarm screeches through cell block D; it's the last morning I'll be waking up to such bullshit buried deep down in this hole. Can't remember how long it's been. Too long, though.

"How'd you sleep, Treimar?" The gruff voice of Candyman comes from on high from the bunk above me.

"Snug as a bug," I start.

"In a rug," he finishes.

He reaches his hand down below the bunk. Inside his closed fist is a lemon Dum-Dum.

"Aw, for me?"

"Scrimped and saved; it's the best I could do. It's your favorite, right?"

It is not. "Yeah, nice that you remembered."

I take the sucker and pocket it. There'll be plenty of chances to savor sweets in a few short hours.

"Alright, Tre," my thoughts are interrupted by Carlson, the only decent guard in the joint. "Your people are here."

Make that a few short minutes.

I reach under my bed and pull out the duffle bag I finished packing months ago. I get up and walk to the door. Thought it'd be easy, but I realize what I'm leaving behind. I turn around and see Candyman looking at the floor.

"I know lemon ain't your favorite," he says. "But I figured bittersweet made the most sense today."

"I'll write," I say.

But he knows I won't; I know it too. Memory loss is a necessary part of getting back into the world.

"Speaking ofÖ" Carlson hands me a sealed envelope. "Remember this?"

I take it and recognize my handwriting right away, but I don't remember writing it.

"You wrote this to yourself during your intake. It was part of some program the shrink had going about recidivism reduction or some such. The shrink is gone, and the program was canned, but the letter is still yours if you want it."

Curiosity gets the best of me, but I have no intention of taking something like this with me.

"Tell my people I'll be out soon."

Carlson nods and walks off. I head back to my bed. Candyman has already climbed down and is waiting to read it with me.

I open the letter, there's not much written, and it's sloppy.


Look at these fools, thinking they know better than you. They sit your rear end down and make you write a letter to yourself like it's some impressive poo poo that takes a master's to come up with. Trying to stop you from doing the dumb poo poo you did again and winding up right here. They've got nothing to teach me while my life is on hold.


Candyman and I finish reading at the same time.

He laughs. "Got anything to say to that angry young man?"

I don't. I don't remember him at all. I wouldn't even know where to start.

Candyman puts his arm around my shoulder.

"Eat some pizza tonight, alright?"

My exit from the hole is a blur. I'm aware enough to catch my little sister as she jumps up to spider hug me. And in the car ride home, I hear my brother promise me that he took really good care of my Yu-Gi-Oh cards which I tell him are all now. Still, beyond that, the whole experience feels something like what one of the shrinks described as "depersonalized dissociation."

I'm only back in my body when I'm in my room. Not a drat thing has changed, and I thank God for that.

There's a knock at the door, and I know who it is by the soft touch.

"Tre?" she says as she peeks through a crack.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"I know you're still on your way back, but you told me not to wait on this."

She reaches through the door and holds a sealed envelope. I take the second letter today that I have no memory of writing.

"I'm so happy you're here, baby." She closes the door.

I sit down on my queen-sized bed alone and feel like an ant in the ocean.


I don't know what's gonna happen down in the hole, so I'm going to do my best to tell you how I'm feeling right now.

You're out. Good. But you're gonna end up right back there unless you learn some poo poo. You have one thing to blame for your vacation from life. You didn't have anyone to count on. Ma loves you, but she doesn't understand you. Dad is the exact opposite.

Connect with people. You have to. Real people. Not people who will sell you out like the assholes who are putting you in here because they won't step up.

Now, listen. You left behind a brother and a sister who have spent all their life looking up to you. You weren't home to take care of them after school. Nobody else was there to cut Jocelyn's pb&j into the dinosaur shapes she liked, and someone else was there when Lamar finally learned how to ride his bike. You've missed all that. I hope you feel it.

Worse than all that, though, you never had anyone to look after you. You never took a chance on good people.

You're better than that, Treimar. And even if you're not, you better start pretending to be.


I fold up the letter and place it under my pillow.

There's a booming knock on my door.

"Yeah, Dad?" I say.

"Dinner's on the table," he says and walks off.

I open the door and call to my family, "I'll be a minute."

Knowing how much my mom would complain about treats before dinner doesn't stop me from pulling the lollipop out of my pocket and sticking it in my mouth. As the bittersweet flavor sends my taste buds dancing, I sit down at my desk and pull a pen from the top left drawer.


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Putting together a prompt for Yoruichi and sebmojo, mine mine mine mine.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Yomo Brawl: All I Ever Wanted

Hey you two. I am currently on vacation. Being on vacation is loving weird.

I should be happy. I have no responsibilities.I can wake up whenever I want and I donít have to do any dishes.

I miss being home.

I never think about how it feels to be on vacation until Iím on one and then it always surprises me. Maybe because itís often years between them and I forgot how odd it feels to step away from my comfortable routine into whatever the hell this is.

Oh, and sunburn is terrible.

Take up to 2,000 words, and take until it says itís August on your kiwi calendars to write me a story about Being on Vacation.

But wait, whatís that? Thereís more? Well, just a little.

Hey Yoruichi, remember that time when you didnít really bother incorporating a song choice from the prompt and were brazen enough to say something like ďI donít know maybe Iíll just not include this song that chili loves in my story and see if he noticesĒ in discord?

Do you remember? I remember.

So hereís what weíre gonna go and do about that.

Iím posting a new list of six songs. Each of you must pick one. I need to see inspiration from it a little bit in your story sebmojo, but Yoruichi, youíll have to do a little better. How much better? I donít know. Youíre good at this writing thing. Figure it out. Oh and no farting around with wasting time, pick one now. Like within 48 hours, or Iíll start taking words away from your word count.

Look at me being all lovely and demanding. See? Vacations are loving weird.

Song Choices:
Chiliís Daughterís Pick:
Chiliís Partnerís Pick:
Chiliís Doing Dishes Pick:
Chiliís Go Watch This Movie Pick:
Chiliís I Know This Band Pick:
Chiliís Big Band Pick:

Chili fucked around with this message at 14:39 on Jul 17, 2021

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Oh and :toxx: to get my agreed upon crits for week 463 done, by 7/20

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Yoruichi posted:

Ok Dad, I pick this one:

Chiliís I Know This Band Pick:

Don't make me brawl and lose to you next. I'll turn this thread around right now.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Here are some extra credit crits for week 463. Iím going to boil down my sentiments in a sentence at the end of each crit in language we use to help our toddler be kinder. These may or may not be quotes from Daniel Tiger. Come at me.

Dome Racer Alphaís A story about a crash

gently caress off with this. Jesus christ. The connective tissue of this storyís logic looks like it was put together by one of the worst kids in my high school improv class. I was kinda sorta ok with what you were doing and the twee and snarky nature of the tone of this, and then Oh hey, itís your pissdong character again to ruin the day. If this is going to be a running gag for you Iíd suggest just calling it off now. This wasnít fun to read, itís not amusing. Stuff just keeps happening, for no real reason and then you go on to comment on the things that happen as though you were some observer, not the writer.

Itís not my favorite.

Black Griffonís Vengeance Climb

This was a blazing read. The action is choreographed perfectly and the partnership between the protag and the war gull is clear and well executed. I could see this and almost smell it thanks to the details.

Where things get a little off for me is the motivation. I donít think Iíd care very much if this was a story about someone just trying to steal poo poo from the boat or even if it was just an rear end in a top hat terrorizing people.

A revenge story is hard to execute with such a limited wordcount as establishing the motive for it is always a challenge. You kinda do a bit of that in the end but maybe you should consider weaving more clues and hints as to whatís being avenged earlier on, and then throughout the story.

Stop. Stop Stop. Itís OK to be angry. Itís not not not OK to hurt someone.

Dome Racer Sigmaís Accounting for Dragons

This was nice and it deserved itís HM. Both characters are fleshed out well as is this relationship. The pretense of identity concealment kinda felt a bit light. It didnít really seem like anything bad would happen when the shoe dropped so I wasnít worried. The response from the dragon was pretty much what I expected but thatís also OK given as the story is about mundane poo poo happening. The opening beat is probably not quite necessary for content purposes but it does establish a good tone and doesnít waste a ton of time. Also, I donít know if you had anything specific in mind but I pictured the dorkiest most obviously fake dragon costume in my head and that made the story much more enjoyable.

You can change your hair, or what you wear. But no matter what you do, youíre still you

Barnaby Profaneís Bobo and Ferrs Visit Grandma

Iím all about a cute story and this one is certainly that and it nerds out about evolution. Beyond that though, thereís not much to sink my teeth into. The relationship between the eponymous critters may as well be non-existent. In fact, this could have been a single player adventure and still would have met the prompt since the ancestor is a different species. Anyhow Bobo is just along for the ride and thatís a bummer. At the end of the day we have a reverse grandfather paradox and itís good and fine but nothing about this wowed me all that much.

Find a way to play together

Sitting Hereís thing that is far too long.

This thing is far too long. Iím not going to read it while Iím in crit mode. I donít like that it flagrantly broke the rules and HMíd when I know, for a fact, there were entrants this week that had to cut down parts of their stories they really liked and then didnít HM. So maybe this is more of a more crit of the judge, I donít think itís sporting to award a piece like this, though Iím sure itís good plenty of good stuff cos of course it does.

Itís almost time to stop, so choose one more thing to do.

tuyopís A Raccoon at the End of the World

The beginning of this story is challenging, thereís a lot of expository talking around whatís going on and what the raccoon is all about. Iíd rather see it all play out in action. From there, the story read much better though. Iím not entirely sure how to parse all of this though. You said all the humans disappeared yet they clearly havenít. So while Iím interested in seeing how these two animals may do on their own from here, thatís all sort of ruined when you throw a human back in the mix. Otherwise, the story itself is relatively tight if not slightly uneventful but you also managed to make the relationship at least somewhat believable, which I appreciated.

Grown ups come back they do, grown ups come back itís true. Gro-own-ups come back.

Chairchuckerís Got No Rhythm

Aw, I liked this one! It may be a bit light and after-school-specially but whatever, it made me smile and even giggle in places. As far as changes go, I donít necessarily mind the opening beat but I thin Iíd swap that out in favor of more back and forth action in the story itself. I also donít know how this detention works but itís like no detention Iíve served (and Iíve certainly served my fair share). Is anyone watching these kids? I think Iíd also prefer to see the punishment occur more publicly. Why not make them dance during dodgeball or something? Go big with it.

In some ways we are different, but in so many ways, we are the same

Sailo Viyís The Dreamerís Companion

Sorry, I wonít have much to offer you. My brain turned off after like the first paragraph of this and my heart took over. This was beautiful. I loved it. I especially love how you deftly handled the personification of the animal and didnít lean too much into it. But the story had a good emotional arc and was very satisfying to read. You accomplished an awful lot in just 1,000 words. Well done.

When a friend doesnít want to play with you, you can find something else to do

ZearothKís Fealty

drat, and right after the gut punch I just read, I get another. This was also excellent, and I donít feel like I have much to add. Definitely deserved itís HM. I love the POV from the story and how trivial the human is made to feel. I do kinda wish that the physicality and specificity of the being that is the narrator was more developed, but then, I also kinda like filling in the blanks for myself. Thereís a bunch of stuff in here that just feels really worthwhile and I want to know more. The idea of trolling through the ears for dreams, for exampleÖ I could see that being a whole story and you just put it in there as a nice little accent. Well done.

Close your eyes, and think of something happy

MockingQuantumís Buried Light

And another goodíun. Wowa, I would have had a bitch of a time judging the top end this week. All of these HMís make a lot of sense! OK, so this is really solid as well and is a creative take on the prompt for sure. As a bit of a critique Iím not sure how much we need in the beginning. The whole procedure of getting things going does establish the space pretty well but I care a lot more about Star and the relationship these two characters have. Iíd prefer to see more of it in favor of much of whatís in the first 200 words or so, even though whatís there is pretty solid. Itís a scifi story with an evocative ending, when I can say that, and I can only personally say that rarely, Iím reading something special. Itís an even bigger accomplishment that it took you only 1,000 words to get there.

Let your light twinkle

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Pre-emptive in.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Chairchucker posted:

Placeholder in case Chili wants to make any kind of request

Chuck something my way.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Mojo you just lost a hundred words from your brawl. Go pick a song.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Week 468 Disney Sleepover Week

Helping Hands
2,482 Words

A tactical pouch of Capri Sun with the straw poking out crashed into Larry Larkin's head and some punch squirted onto Shana Moray's face.

Larry reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief and offered it to Shana. Shana chuckled at the grandfatherly nature of her fellow 7th-grade partner but took the handkerchief all the same and dabbed her cheeks with it.

"Thanks, Larry." She handed it back to him.

"See the monogram," he pointed to the corner. "LL, it was my Zayde's. He gave it to me before he died last month. Look at that gorgeous hand-ticking."

Shana nodded and smiled at her 13-going-on-65 friend as his handkerchief flew up into the air.
They looked up to see Natalie McNeely, the likely pouch thrower and designated shot caller of bus 39 at Pine Ridge Middle, smirking.

Shana slammed her hands on her seat and tried to shoot up, but Larry put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hold your horses; I know how this ends," he whispered.

"But she.." Shana pleaded.

"Trust me." Larry smiled at her.

Shana tilted her head back up at Natalie, but Larry gently pushed her chin down, encouraging her to do the same. She did so, and Natalie turned her back on the two.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Shawn."

Larry pushed himself up and out of the bench seat and shoutedÖ

"How dare you!"

Shana yelled at Larry to sit down and reached her hand out to him.

Larry turned his back on Natalie and sat down with Shana.

"No fight in either of you," Natalie scoffed. "Not surprised." She walked back toward her seat, threw the handkerchief on the ground, and stomped on it. Larry picked it up off the floor and looked back at his friend.

"I'm so sorry, Shana."
She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled. "It's OK. Hearing you say my name makes up for it."


The bus pulled up to Shana's house. Larry let her out first and followed behind her.

"Nobody's home today. Dad usually doesn't get in until late on Thursday."

"That's OK. I can fix us some supper." Larry asked.

They walked through the threshold of the house, and Shana pointed to the kitchen.

"Go ahead. Maybe make a lot of whatever you're making? My dad usually comes home too tired from work, and we end up getting take-out or something."

"Oh goodness, that won't do at all!" Larry said as he moved toward the kitchen.

"Is it OK if I go down to the lab while you cook?"

"You go cure cancer, Curie. I'll be up here noodling with noodles."

By the time she got to the lab, the sound of oil sizzled in a pan upstairs.

She took off her shoes and socks and welcomed the cold, familiar slab of concrete underneath her feet as she turned on the soft table-side lamps that bounced light off the different chemicals and substances filling her various glassware on the table.

She lit her bunsen burners and placed metals she was interested in combining in beakers above them. While they heated, she walked over to her periodic element poster in the corner of her lab. It was marked with colorful permanent markers in a way that made sense only to her. She poured over the poster, lost herself in possibilities. She jumped when Larry closed the basement door behind him as he descended down the stairs.

"What are you working on?" He asked, handing her a warm bowl filled with green soup. It had a circle of something orange in the middle and perfumed the air with a beautiful, indulgent smell.

"What is this?" She asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

He smiled. "You guys had some spinach that was on the verge of wilting and some beautiful tomatoes. I made a quick duetta on the stove."

As Larry walked past and looked at the poster, Shana tucked into the soup.

"And how about you, Madame Bunsen. What's this?"

Shana was enjoying the soup but swallowed it quickly.

"Prime numbers," Shana said, realizing as she began that she swallowed the scalding soup far too quickly. She pushed on, though, "I think there's something special in the elements that have prime atomic numbers."

"Oh yeah?" Larry asked. "Is that what you have cooking over there?"

She looked at the beakers and saw that everything was adequately melted down.

"Actually, yeah, let me show you. Can you grab a flask?"

She picked up a beaker and turned to collect another when Larry crashed into her.
Larry was holding a beaker as well, and the two collided in a sound of crackling glass. They each dropped their beakers but not before a little of one, and a little of the other splashed onto Shana's forearm.

"Ah!" Shana shouted in pain. "What was that?!"

"You told me to go get a flask--"

"That was a beaker!"

The goo on Shana's arm bubbled and turned red.

"Yikes!" Larry shouted as he withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the compound off of her.

The bubbly red concoction fizzed angrily on the handkerchief as it spread. Larry dropped it on the ground as it twitched furiously.

"What in the hell?" Shana thought out loud. She moved closer to the twisting textile, squinting her eyes as her head cocked to the left.

"Careful!" Larry shouted through gritted teeth.

The substance continued to spread and disintegrate the handkerchief until all that was left behind was smoke. Larry fell to his knees, his mouth agape. He stared at the spot where the handkerchief used to be. Shana put her fingers under his chin and tilted his head up. He gasped as the smoke expanded and swirled into a funnel shape.

"We need to get out of here!" He grabbed Shana's hand, but she swatted it away.

"This is new," she said calmly. "New is good."

The smoke slowed, and an ethereal red hand reached out of the top of it. The bust of a man looked over the swirl of smoke, his hands firmly grasping the edge of the swirl.


Shana jumped back, but Larry moved closer. "Is that really you?"

"Oh good, you can see me. I was worried that antisemitic gatekeeper doomed me to fail."

Shana walked backward until her feet hit the stairs; she sat down and stared.

"What do you mean, Zayde? What gatekeeper?"

"Oh, he mentioned something about lessons needing to be learned. I thought it was ridiculous. I taught you everything I know, but then I saw what happened on the bus, and it became clear."

"You saw that?"

"I've tried, little Mishka, to teach you the way, but it's time for me to show you. Only then will I find peace."

The swirl of smoke picked up speed, and Zayde descended downward, laughing intensely from what sounded like his ethereal belly. It swirled faster and faster and shrunk in size until finally, all that remained was the handkerchief that started it.

Larry and Shana stared at it in silence for a minute.

"What's a Mishka?" Shana asked.

Larry bent down and picked up the handkerchief. As he did, it darted around his right hand and compressed. It squeezed so tightly that Larry howled in pain. Shana rushed over to him and tried to wrestle it off Larry's hand, but it was already unraveling and flying towards Larry's left hand. Shana reached out to block with her left hand, and it caught onto hers. She yelped, and suddenly the handkerchief flopped lifelessly to the ground.

They rubbed their squeezed hands and saw, on the backs of them, a faint LL scar.

Oy Vey

Shana and Larry jumped in unison at the sudden booming voice inside each of their heads.

It seems as though I'll be teaching two needy little cubs.

Larry's right hand raised, Shana's left followed, and they zoomed toward each other in an attempt at a high five. They each smacked the other in the face.

This might take some getting used to.


After a few hours or so of the two now semi possessed middle schoolers fumbling around in the basement, Zadey's presence had vanished. They both asked internally, and to each other, if he was still there, and he did not respond. Zayde had gained some mastery over manipulating their hands in unison, but his control weakened the further apart they became.

Larry pulled out a watch from his pocket. "My word, it's nearly midnight!"

Shana sleepily pointed to the purple couch she had procured at the local thrift store, and Larry followed her over to it. They cuddled up together and promptly fell asleep.

Shana's father left a note at the top of the door that the two found in the morning.

soup was delish, thanks Larry, I left the oven on low, some bagels in there

The two grabbed breakfast out of the oven.

"So I guess that all just happened, right?" Shana said as Larry crunched down.

Larry nodded his head as he checked down at the scar on his hand.

He swallowed his bagel, "I guess he's still in there, right? I mean, I'm not the scientist here but, if the scars are still on our hands?"

"I'd hesitate to call this science, but yes, that seems likely."

"You in there, Zayde?" Larry called out.

No answer.


The two agreed to sit far apart on the bus, just to play it safe. Shana took a seat on the rear wheel well. Larry, the more likely target, grabbed a spot next to the bus driver upfront.
Natalie, however, had Shana on her radar.

"Gimme your bag, Gizmo; I didn't finish my chem homework."

Natalie snatched the bag off the seat next to Shana, and Shana rolled her eyes and looked out the window. She heard some faint scribbling as Natalie hastily copied down the contents of her notebook. Suddenly, she saw Larry shoot up from his seat. She felt her hand pull her upwards as well.

Their mouths opened in unison, and before either knew what was happening, they each shouted together:


Larry's hand shot forward, pulling him along and straight towards Natalie. Shana's left hand grabbed Natalie by the shoulder and pivoted Natalie's body to Larry. Larry's hand connected with Natalie's gut. She launched Shana's notebook up into the air as she fell down toward the ground.

Larry and Shana regained control of their hands and froze in horror. Natalie whimpered and crawled back to her seat. The two sat down and looked down into their laps. Zayde's voice filled their heads.

Where are the cheers? We have done it! We have taken down that horrible bulvan!"

Larry just shook his head and looked out the window.

You have only begun to understand your power, little Mishka. Soon you'll see the respect you command.

Shana and Larry sighed and held hands for the rest of the bus ride.


The rest of the week proceeded normally, with Zayde nice and quiet as tellings of the bus beating spread throughout the school. When Larry and Shana walked the halls, people cleared out of the way and whispered to one another.

"Are you liking this?" Shana asked.

"Not even a bit," Larry replied.

"People used to smile at us, at least sometimes," Shana said. "I don't even know what that guy's doing.

She pointed to a curly-haired 6th grader who closed the lid to a garbage can above his head as he peeked out at them.

They respect you, little bears.

"No," Larry said out loud. "They're afraid of us."

One and the same, Mishka. Either way, you are not being trifled with.

They turned the corner and heard the slamming of a locker door as a group of Freshmen from the corridor over held up Mike Smith, one of their smaller classmates, by the collar.

"Money now, kid," the tallest called out.

Ah, you have protected yourselves, now let's see how it feels to protect another.

"Oh please," Larry pleaded, "No."

But Larry and Shana's hands lurched forward as the two hurled themselves like ragdolls on a string at the Freshman, knocking them all over. The twisted mess of adolescents pulled themselves apart, and when the bullies saw who had tackled them, they picked themselves and sauntered away.

"There," boomed Zayde's cadence through Larry, "young man, you have nothing to worry about."

Larry's right hand reached down to pull up Mike, but as he pulled on his arm, Mike let out a cry.

"My shoulder!" He shouted.

"Oh no," Shana put her hand over her mouth, "it looks dislocated."

"But are you not safe!" Zayde exclaimed through Larry. He placed the one hand controlled on Larry's waist in a semi-heroic pose.

Shana bent down and rubbed Mike's back.

"I'm sorry, Mike. Are you OK?"

A tear beaded up in his eyes.

"I'm just tired of this."

"I'll put an end to it!" Zayde shouted. "I'll show those balagulas!"

"Hey!" Shana shouted. "Why are you so worried about them? Mike didn't do anything wrong, and now he's hurt. Can we please help him?"

Larry raised his eyebrow in a way Shana had never seen before.

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Larry's right arm raised up and pulled him in the direction that bullies went.

"Zayde, you turn around right now and help me!"

Larry turned around and faced Shana.

"Uh, who's Zayde?" Mike asked.

"Listen, we can either go after some idiots and spend all of our time and energy on them, or we can help someone who needs us. What's going to make you feel better right now?"

Larry's eyebrow lowered, and he walked over to Mike. The two picked him up and headed towards the nurse's office.

Mike whimpered as they walked. "Do you think it'll ever get better than this," he asked.

"Yeah, I do," Shana said. "There are good people out there.

"It feels like I'll be dealing with this kind of stuff for the rest of my life."

Shana nodded her head, "It makes sense that you feel that way. When scary stuff happens, it kinda has a way of covering up all of the good stuff, but there's still good stuff."

Mike smiled as he looked up at Shana.

ďIt gets better.Ē Zayde's voice came through Larry's mouth.

Mike laughed, ďwhat like 2 months from when Iím your age? But yeah, I know sorry for being down.

ďItís OK, weíre here for you.Ē

"You want to join me, Larry? You don't sound so good."

Larry chuckled and walked away. Shana followed behind him. Larry's right hand and Shana's left began to vibrate and heat up. The scars faded, and a voice echoed through their minds.

The lesson has been learned, but it is you little cubs who have taught me. I love you, Mishka. Thank you.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Can't go in but to celebrate Thunderdome's birthday, I'll pledge a 50 dollar donation to the charity of the winner's choosing.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Vacation Brawl!

Gonna cut to the chase cos this one was a surprisingly easy one to judge.

Yoruichi, your story gripped me, sebmojo's yours did not.

Yoruichi Wins.

Sebmojo, your story felt more obligatory in nature. The beginning nod at the prompt basically felt pretty dismissive which I can deal with if what it's left is good, but I'm struggling to find much of anything that gets me interested. I don't really know what gets accomplished in the 50% of the story where your protag is making his way downtown, walking fast, faces pass, and is homebound, it's just kinda empty. Like there's a decent return to home vibe, and the family stuff is pretty OK but it's not worth just avoiding the prompt for, nor does it seem to do very much.

Yoruichi, I wasn't expecting the 'vacation relationship' mechanism. In this case, I didn't know what I wanted, because I very much wanted this. It was sad, complicated, and it focused not just on the characters but the dynamic itself. It was a short scene but alluded gently to much more on the outside of the scene itself so it got a lot done in a very little bit of time. I really liked it. Well done!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Can we take a word penalty for a reroll? I don't even know how to parse my opener.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

Chili posted:

Can we take a word penalty for a reroll? I don't even know how to parse my opener.

nevermind this for me, I've got something going

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Just Another Thursday
1,025 Words

Oh, youíre a coward little fool, as if you couldnít bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city. You bring shame to yourself, your family, and the denizens of Rodrigostan. Garbage cans are no more fit to be seen from the street than a tumbleweed soaked in puss.

We have tried to explain and tried to be reasonable. If your garbage cans are seen again, we will be forced to write even more letters. Do not doubt us.

Presiking Nedward

I fold the letter up and place it in my rocket. Jill, my mother-in-law ambles down the stairways and begins counting before she can even see what is happening; she knows me well.


She hits one and lower the kitchen window, toss the rocket out of it, and watches as it lands in the garden and finds the hole leftover from yesterday. It tips itself down into the ground.

ďAnd how many more rockets are you going to send into the earthís core before you finally shake the lint?Ē Jill asks.

ďAt least one more, it seems.Ē I open up the can of chunk light tuna fish the same way I have done the past several months. I fish out the hidden nickel in the contents of the can and hurl the front door of my house open. Nickel in hand I march straight to city hall.

Amidst the groanings of my fellow Rodrigostans and the effete protests of the unarmed Prunkers, my walk is routine.

ďThere goes Joe,Ē one of them says, ďwhat do you think of him and his quest?Ē He asks of his neighbor.

ďHeís a putz,Ē his neighbor says.

I donít disagree but I am a putz with principles and Iíve had one too many letters from the HOA condemning me and my lifestyle. Iíll blow up the earthís core with rockets before I roll over and tolerate their inane snowglobing.

I arrive at city hall and meet the Prunker whoís in charge of guarding it today. His name is Gabriella, and heís a real gun of a witch. Maybe Iíll get to kill him.

ďOh Joe, this again? Must we really?Ē

I say nothing. He knows I mean business and that Iím not going away.

He rolls his eyes and extends his hand. I take it and we sing the ceremonial song of protest as we Scottish reel afront the steps of parliament.

Oh Ďtis fine a day to register complaint
Nor act with indecency or high minded restraint
I debase myself and my fellow Prunker too
So that my words shall ring true.

ďAnd you can keep your loving nickel.Ē Gabriella says to me as he slows.

ďNow now Prunker, you are to take my nickel, and consider it an offer of good faith.Ē

ďgently caress you and gently caress your faith.Ē He spits a purple lozenge onto my shoe.

I remove my French Foreign Legion pen from my breast pocket and perform a makeshift tracheotomy on him. My fellow townsfolk are none too pleased with me expressing my right of citizenship and hurl chairs and baked goods at me. Rules are rules though, and I am following them. I insert the wooden nickel into the fresh cut on my oppressorís neck and begin my mile-long trek up the stairs of city hall.

Every eighth step, I kneel untie my shoes, switch them to the other foot and tie them back again. I may be a dissenter, but Iím not an animal. Itís not long before I have arrived at the doors to city hall. Theyíre small today, they must have sensed Iíd be here. Last week they were much larger.

I squat down so that when I knock my eyes are level with the peephole. The window opens and I open my mouth in turn, the sweet nectar of papaya juice shoots through the window and tickles my tongue.

ďThank you for bestowing upon me the kindness of the greatest of fruits.Ē

ďGet the gently caress in here so you can screw up our Tuesday, and leave.Ē

ďAh, but is it not Tuesday but Thursday, and with that welcomed audit have I not contributed meaningfully not only to our society but to your own very---Ē

ďYes, yes, now just please, weíre really swamped today, we didnít think weíd catch you with the audit test, just come in.Ē

ďSuch a gracious invitation.Ē

The door swings open and the ground quakes beneath my feet. The building shakes for a moment and then steadies.

ďWoah, did you all feel that?Ē

ďHa! One question down! One more and weíre sending you down the slide.Ē

My host points to the nearby opening guarded by a bored white-clad middle-aged bodyguard with a receding hairline.

ďDonít you try and distract me with your sexual objects,Ē I say.

My chest is puffed, and I am ready for anything they may tempt me with today. The version of me last week? Sure, he takes the bait, but not today, this is not just another Thursday. They shepherd me to the Presikingís quarters, but only after we turn our first corner do I realize how compromised I am.

There are thousands of them, Stanley. Thousands of white-clad bodyguards. Hanging from the rafters, poking out of the curtains, crawling and giggling under the rugs, and playing grabass with one another in such a manner that I can hardly contain myself.

ďIs there a problem?Ē My host asks through a urine-drinking grin.

ďCan you justÖĒ

ďAnd thatís the start of a question! Prunkers! To the Slide!Ē

I am hoisted by my calves to the great slide, and as I am summarily jettisoned from the estate, I feel the ground quake as I begin my descent down the slide that will ultimately eject me out of the townís rump.

The quaking doesnít stop. It swells and grows such that it feels like the whole world beneath might explode. And then it does. And all of my rockets careen from this god-forsaken place in the pursuit of somewhere more just and kind. Godspeed, my rockets.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Friendly reminder:

If you have a flash please include it in your post. But, DO NOT EDIT YOUR POST IF YOU'VE ALREADY MADE ONE AND DIDN'T INCLUDE IT.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Hi there, Iím chili and Iím in a very grumpy mood and have no time for my poo poo let alone yours. Perfect for reading comedy!

I have no idea how Iím going to react this week to the words you have written, as there is no word count limit if Iím reading a story thatís over 1,500 words long and Iím not enjoying myself at all after 1,500 words, I am going to stop reading. Problem? Brawl me.

That being said, if a story manages to make me actually laugh, even one time, I will likely advocate for it to hm. So there you go.

On with the stuff:

Flyerantís With a Teaspoon of Nostalgia

Did I laugh? No.

Overall this is fine, itís a functional story that is more sad and tragic than it is anything else. Sure, it ultimately has a bit of a happy ending and is kind of sweet but I also donít really understand whatís going on. Was he somehow paying tribute to his wife by throwing cakes out the window? Youíre really trying to make that one gesture carry an awful lot as itís seemingly the only thing hinting at comedy through the story and is also supposed to be some kind of cathartic meet-cute? I donít know. It plays mostly and I donít really hate how it ends up but itís all fairly obvious.

Captain Indigoís Email thing

Did I laugh? I kinda chuckled at the Mr. T thing but mostly cos it blindsided me.

This is not a story, which is forgivable considering the prompt. But itís also not much else. Itís a cobbled-together list of grievances that feel ultimately very mean and inconsistent. By the time Iím done reading it I donít have a good sense of who the father is or who the kid is, Iím just mostly annoyed and want the protag to calm down and shut up. Mean and ranting can be funny but itís like I tell my kids in improv, Ďhow much do you enjoy it when youíre either doing that or someone is doing that to you?í Not much, right? So why assume that anyone wants to see it.

Idle Amalgamís Pecking Order

Did I laugh? No.

Look, comedy is hard. I donít mind if a story fails to make me laugh so much if thereís an effort but it really didnít even feel like there was one here. What part of is this is supposed to be humorous? Sure the mom is some do-it-all heroine who is wisely holding everything together and sees everything even when she has a sleep mask on. Is that supposed to be funny though? How? The story itself isÖ fine? I mean it works. I followed it. I donít know why any of it matters or what weíre supposed to learn or care about by the end. Itís just a thing that happens.

Sparksbloomís Mystery Flavor

Did I laugh? Embarrassingly, yes, at spermnugget. I hate you.

Otherwise, I really had a hard time with this,. I canít tell whatís happening after the protag bites on whatever the weird thing is. Also, theyíre a giant? Or becoming one? Is the end a punchline? Am I just too stupid to figure out what the joke is? I just donít get it, like any of it. Why is this happening, what is happening to the protag, what does the protag actually want, and why stocks?

What is this?

Derpís My Katana

Did I laugh? Yeah, at the drawing and then a bit at the end when it just keeps getting more ridiculous.

So yeah, this is loving weird. Thank you for that at least! Iím most baffled by the formal way the narrator tells the story and quotes himself. Didnít really find it funny, just found it odd. But the whole conceit of an incognito John Romero at kinkoís as a Ďcopymaní (that word did get a chuckle out of me) did at least keep me interested in reading on. So yeah, in any other week I donít know how I like this but there are some funny bits and itís strange so yeah, I like it enough.

Voodooflyís The Jukebox in the Corner

Did I laugh? Kinda, was more just overall amused and into the digs and riffs.

My dude, what am I supposed to think here. You and I had a conversation about High Fidelity only like a week ago and then you write this? Well, obviously, Iím going to like something like this but yeah it has very much that kind of vibe and feel. Iíd certainly say this is more of a love story than a funny story and Iím not much for those, but this works enough for me because of the trimmings around it. I like the game feel of the process though it may be a turn-off for some. Overall though, this works for me.

Rhymes with Clueís FML part MMXIX

Did I laugh? Yes, a couple of times.

I liked this. The jokes come largely at the expense of Marina but we donít pity her and in the end, others are meant to suffer more than her. The runner of her magnets on her arm works just about the time you employ it and overall this is a good story about a mundane day, with mundane stuff that has enough fun in it to make it worthwhile. This was the first story Iíve read this week that I could see play out in my head and thatís in larger part due to the strength of the gags and how they repeat, and the clarity that the characters are presented with. Well done.

Pham Nuwenís Exchange

Did I laugh? Yeah, an annoyed chuckle at the punchline.

Iím glad you took a shot at a legitimate joke. It uh, kinda works. I will admit I had to look up sward, but then sure, it works. Up until that part though this feels pretty bleak and sad and dystopic, not so much funny. But, the conceit is at least interesting and I did want to know what happened next as I was reading it. The premise of two sex robots running off toÖ. Just go off and try and have more sex as an act of rebellion is itself a little amusing of a concept. Pretty good stuff.

Carl Killer Millerís The Sister and Divinity

Did I laugh, yes, mostly at Celesís asides.

This is a good fuckiní story. I dug The Book of Mormon feel of it and was worried it was gonna be more of that but it took turns away from it. I was with the character the whole way and enjoyed watching her grow and change and appreciated the levity she brought with her throughout the proceedings. I just liked it. Well done.

Rohanís Dating After Level 30

Did I laugh? No

This just meanders around for a long time and I found the banter to ultimately be tiresome. Thatís a problem when itís where the majority of the humor seems to come from. I had a hard time figuring out what the overall thing was here. The title makes it seem like itís all a video game but thereís not much else to allude to that? Or maybe I missed it? I donít know, feels like a bunch of Ďand thensí and not a whole lot worth caring about.

My Shark Waifuuís Dorkula

Did I laugh? Yes, audibly, and frequently.

This loving rocked. Not only were the awkward interactions in the beginning handled perfectly and genuinely elicited laughs out of me, I cared about the outcome of the story. The pacing was great and the ending was perfect. I loved this.

WeltlichísThe Greatest Show on Earth, Chapter 2 (Le Morte D'Arthur)

Did I laugh? Kinda

So yeah, some funny bits but in no way did this need to go on for as long as it did. The punchline does kind of work but if you want to settle on that as the main selling point of the story you certainly needed to focus more on the tableau itself as opposed to everything else. The proceedings, in the beginning, are well constructed, the dialogue is fun enough. The planning feels a little indulgent and tiresome and doesnít really slap with any humor. The execution of the plan is a little muddy with its choreography but I was with you most of the way. Not a strong reaction from me but itís fine.

Thranguyís You Gotta Laugh

Did I laugh? No

I kinda like this as a story but I didnít find any of it particularly funny. Itís economical and visceral and I can see it play out in my head for what it is. But ultimately did it move the needle much for me? Not really. The setup definitely got me curious about where it was going to go but I didnít quite understand the turn and why it happened as it did. Also struggled to tell how literal the smut drawing was or if it was more interpretive. I donít know, was ultimately OK enough.

crabrock's Motivation

Did laugh? Yes. At the thirty-year reveal

This is ultimately very goofy and fits the form perfectly. If this went on any longer is start to hate it but whimsical acceptance of the protag and who he is and how he is is oddly charming and serves for a good piece. Definitely got some laughs out of me.

Chairchucker's Night Light

Did I laugh? No.

The tone of this doesn't feel casually funny, it feels rushed and lazy and very matter of fact. The story itself is minimal which is fine if anything stood out but nothing much else does. I even saw the good girl line at the end coming. This basically felt like ash and misty doing their bike antics and I didn't much like that either.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Here's a video of t a s t e and chili's storytime hour, featuring my horrible cat being horrible:

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Lil judge burps. Ask for more if you want them, brawl me if you hate them.


I like the sound and the texture of this, but thatís as far as Iíll go. This went in a weird direction and Iíll be damned if I followed much of any of it even if I did enjoy the ride in parts. The tone and voice feel very natural.

Captain Indigo

That was upsetting! Yikes! I didnít see the bit at the end coming for sure and Iím still not sure quite how I feel about it. Oddly, I found the prose about the protagís childhood a bit more striking and evocative than the surgical adventures. Protagís character does shine through but feels a little one-note and obsessive, the allusion to I guess the murdering of the husbands caught my interest but I wanted to see more of that and more of what she was actually doing.

The man called M

Your prose needs a tune-up, for one ditch the Ďafter allís, Ďeventuallyís and other trite cliches. For a week focused on the telling of stories, it feels like an incredibly odd choice to focus on a wedding and essentially replace a best man speech with a bunch of exposition from an omniscient narrator. This rambles on for a bit and doesnít really connect with me or bring out any kind of feeling. Also, if youíre gonna have two characters in a story, donít call them Jim and Joe, go easy on your reader that was a pain in the rear end to parse.

Chernobyl Princess

Figures that the first solid therapy story I come across in a very long time in the dome came from a fellow shrink. Itís got some problems, least of all the kind of non-ending. There are certainly more questions to be asked and itís OK not to include them but just imaging this scene play out and the suddenly stopping is pretty unsatisfying. The way the clients each say what they want to say and at times donít answer the questions being posed to them was a good, and common choice, and I was very much drawn in, but this needed to be crafted as a scene not a beginning to something that needs more.


loving devastating read. Powerfully done and handles the prompt in a creative way. Small critique: even though you used a subtle touch, I didnít need the narrator to let me know about the shivers beyond the first one or two, I was definitely able to feel the pain enough on my own. But beyond that? This was a very solid piece of writing.


A little hard for me to wrap my head around what I read. It never felt like there was a clear narrative of what was going on. It just ultimately felt like a bunch of things that happened that didnít feel connected somehow. The telling was probably better done here than in what Iíve read thus far, this really did feel like a story being told by a war vet. I didnít find it to be as compelling as Iíd like though.


I donít know if the intention of the story here is to be disappointing but thatís ultimately how the Ďthingí being a conical hat made me feel. Like really? All that buildup for this? Maybe that was what was intended, but I donít know why itís funny if itís supposed to be funny. I donít know who this character is so I donít really care. I also donít quite understand much of the storyís purpose. You even, in the middle of the story say ďbut thatís not what this story is about, itís about something elseĒ then why waste words on that? It did indeed feel like an oral story but it just kinda meanders and the punchline isnít very satisfying.


OK, Iím gonna chalk up a fair amount of my trouble with this story due to my poor reading comprehension. But maybe itís not just me. I found it jarring and a bit unclear when the story was being told and when it wasnít. Like from beat to beat are we Ďin the story? It feels kinda like we are. Almost like how the movie princess bride works, with the story-within-the-story happening in a cutaway fashion, away from the narration, with occasional interruption? If so, OK, I guess I get that but it sort of feels like a cheat, and I also really enjoyed the telling beats moreso than the showing beats. Regardless I was struggling to follow the action from beat to beat. I think utilizing an omniscient perspective from the story-within-the-story and then cutting back to the narrator who has his own read on things and his own voice definitely made this muddier for me.


There isnít much that ties these musings together. Iím also really sour on the repetitiveness, and this ultimately just feels rushed as evidenced by the proofing errors and lack of an overall narrative thrust. I also donít know where or how this is being told. My guess is a graveside I suppose but I think this could be clearer. But why the anaphora, and why is this so stilted and unnatural? Has this character been prompted by their English teacher to write an ďI rememberĒ paper?


I mean this was fine? Felt like a bit of an afterthought. It follows the rules of the week OK but nothing in here made me feel much and it felt like if this story was meant to be anything, it was meant to be evocative. The story being told is of little interest to me but it works well enough I guess.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

CourtFundedPoster posted:


Could I get a link to the Discord?

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

take the moon posted:

chili u gently caress ty for the crit but that video was 2 hours and not timecoded for my convenience. i prolly shouldnt but i challenge u to a brawl over this. perhaps in the future u will look back at such mistakes, maybe even draw upon them for wisdom on how to proceed in a similar situation

pretending im still about poo poo i suppose but i will :toxx: for this so do it up if ur fixin for a fight (your reason for ire would be that you had to read my bad story)

freal i cant leave yet till im good again lol. and i need more critting and like it's been a nightmare for like a zillion years

I've tried to be incredibly good natured and kind throughout that incredibly arduous and difficult undertaking. I do not appreciate this at all. I will not brawl you over this. Learn some gratitude.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

take the moon posted:

im sorry, it was a joke friend

I'm exhausted and not quite in the mood for them. Do appreciate the apology. Hope to see you for the next one.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
In with Brad Mehldau's When It Rains

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Entry for week 486
Song choice : Brad Mehldau's

Out of many, one

983 Words

My hopes and dreams, borne of my tradition and the ancestors before me, how wonderful they are. With the permission of my teachers and the community, I endow you with heritage and the sanctity of the responsibility to carry it forward. You neednít worry about direction; you already have it. Blessed are you my little one with the sort of guidance and restrictions that will free you from the prison of choice that will detain so many of your generation. We will take a part of your body to remind you that nothing is yours. You are a person of God. Our people belong to God.

Stay in the faith, stay for our people. I see you reaching for that candy but we cannot have that candy. We canít have the candy because weíre different, weíre special, weíre chosen Our people are chosen. So, put it back, and put it back with pride in knowing that you made that choice. You made that right choice. A choice to embolden yourself and your people. Our people.

I see you cracked the code. Yes, your friends go to school for three hours less than you do each day. But what do you suppose they do with that time? I know what youíd do with it. Youíd squander it. Youíd play your games, youíd watch your shows, youíd indulge in choice. Choices that remind you of the temptations that await if you stray from our people. But, perhaps youíre right, I canít stop you. Sit down with me, I found a school thatís far away, a school for our people, let me show you. This school will be the best thing for you, and for our people.

A graduate, so proud, now, donít stray from this path, it is the path that guarantees you success and acceptance. You will be loved, just stay here. That girl is nice, yes, but she is not one of us. So, she must not be allowed to be with us. It might seem cruel but you havenít yet understood the cruelty our people have endured. This is a cost. A cost she wonít ever understand, and perhaps you donít for now, but youíll have to trust me. Iím doing the right thing. My friends have ensure me, I am doing the right thing.

I understand itís time to move along, I always knew this day would come, but California? So far? Go, I suppose, I just thought family meant more to you than this. I feel dizzy. I just thought things would be different. Youíll go, but youíll come back. Until you do, I donít want to hear from you. Youíre with those people now. Weíll be waiting when youíre ready to come back to ours.

So glad youíre back. Who is this youíre bringing to us? With a last name and a nose like that, she canít be one of us. We wonít let her be one of us. Donít you want to be one of us? One of us? One of us? Think of our people, our people, think of our people. Theyíre your people.

Thank you for inviting us to your home, but, oh and I hope this is some mistake. I noticed some items in your pantry. They must be hers. Oh, they are yours? I suppose this is an interesting phase for you to go through. Interesting phase. Itís very interesting. Please, donít tell any of your friends about these changes. God forbid these details find their way to their parents and then back to us. Weíve suffered enough, our people have suffered enough. Please, let us know when itís over? Our people miss you. Theyíre your people too.

Is it over? Is any of it over? Please. Tell her to leave and clean your house. Get it out, get it all out and get all of those people out. Donít you know what you have? What weíve done for you? Look at whatís here for you if you just come back to our people.

We canít possibly attend your wedding, but you knew that right? You know that we had to talk to our leader about you, right? Oh such shame even coming to him as we did. We had to ask for office hours at his house for fear of people seeing us getting support in such a way. He told us to keep you close in spite of all of this but heís just doing his best to be kind. Our people, please think of our people.

This hurts our people.

And now this, the biggest betrayal of all. A betrayal too harsh to comprehend. Do you really want your son to not be like you? To not be like our people? Our people. Think of our people. How can we live down the shame? Oh, the ugly, thoughtless choice youíre making.

Havenít we done right by you? By our people? We kept you close, we kept you on the path. You strayed at times, but always found your way back. But this? Generations and generations that came before you. Do you reject all of their wisdom? The wisdom of our people.

I guess you know better, or at least, weíll have to hope that you do. That you know better than our people. We can tell you weíll pray, and hope, and believe but we know what that means to you. So what? What are we supposed to do for our people?


My person, my own person. You are perfect and I will take nothing from you. You will be labored by choice, freedom, pain, and consequence. What choices you make will be yours and they will be met with acceptance. Youíll careen through life and stumble. When you do, I will be here, because you are my person. I hope I get this right; please tell me when I donít.

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Thank you both so much!

Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe
Hey everyone!

It's the holidays!

I usually put together a big ol thing of a post imploring as many people as I can to sign up for some gift-giving, story-writing, hoopla-filled palooza.

But, I'm tired.

Keeping it simple this year. Want to do a merry happy person? Join the card exchange!

What it is: By signing up you're committing to send two holiday cards of any form to two of your fellow domers. Want to do more? Feel free. The expectation is a cheer bringing card, and that's it. You may have to mail internationally, or you can find a creative alternative if that's prohibitive.

How do you sign up? Find me on a discord, and shoot me a dm with your mailing address. You are not signed up until you do that and I say the words 'cardscardscards' back to you. DO NOT POST HERE AND poo poo UP THE THREAD, only do that if you're not on discord and need help or something.

Deadlines: Sign up by 12/10 11:59 EDT Ship it out by year's end.

Get it? Got it?

Get crackin'

Chili fucked around with this message at 23:00 on Dec 7, 2021


Jan 23, 2004

college kids ain't shit

Fun Shoe

a friendly penguin posted:

Chili and Princess Chernobyl! I have been informed that you don't put enough Old Bay on your berger cookies. We must brawl!

Quoth the chili:

Bring it the gently caress on

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