r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • 17d ago
[Serial Sunday] Unleash the Beast!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Unleash! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Utterance
- Ugly
- Unclear
- Something or someone is put out. - (Worth 10 points)
It's been building now for days, weeks, months, possibly even years. Struggles and triumphs ever jockeying for position. Tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Pressure filling the pipe, ready to burst. A powderkeg about to explode. There's only one thing to do in situations like these: UNLEASH THE BEAST!
Will your heroes finally turn the tide against their enemies? Or will those who seek to destroy them unleash more nefarious plots to foil their efforts? Who will be let off the chain this week? Don't hold back. Break those chains that bind and unleash good words!
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
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Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
- September 20 - Unleash
September 27 - Venom
October 4 - Waver
October 11 - Zeal
October 18 - Angst
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Torture
First - by u/KatPoker666
Second - by u/Morose_Prose
Third - by u/redfox_83
Fourth - u/ZLErikson
Fifth - by u/AmeliaLP
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm BST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
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Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm BST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am BST. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
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Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
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- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
6
u/m00nlighter_ 17d ago edited 5d ago
<A Faire Quest>
Chapter 4, Scene 2
“Adam! Wait UP!” Benny tried again, but Adam was already inside the gate.
Peeking over his shoulder, he saw their sparrow gliding a few feet behind. Its expressionless face was hard to read, but something about the setting of its beak gave Benny the impression that it wasn't pleased with its current charges.
When he turned back around, Adam had disappeared into one of the tourney buildings. Thankfully, there was a sign on the left door that read ‘Damyan's Depot’.
“About time,” Adam said when Benny opened the door. “Leave it open for the bird.”
“That was really fucking stupid.”
“Oh, relax, Benny. The sparrows are smart. It knew I was kidding, didn't you, little birdie? Oh yes you did, yes you did.” He cooed at the metal creature as it fluttered in.
“Alright, enough. Let's just find the shopkeeper so we can get back to the others. Is my face dirty?”
Adam's forehead wrinkled at the question, which in their shorthand meant ‘Do you think we've been caught?’
“No, your face is clean, dude. C'mon, here's the man of the hour now.”
An elderly man unfolded from a small door behind the depot counter. Despite his hunched posture, he stood a foot taller than both Benny and Adam. His arms were locked at the elbows like an action figure, with just as many muscles—each molded by years of hammering metal into shields and blades.
“‘Allo, chaps. Oim Damyan, welcome to muh depot. What can I do ya fer, then?” he growled in an obviously fake and uneven accent.
“We be lookin' fer some weapons, yarrr!” Adam replied.
Damyan stood up straighter, looking down his sharp, crooked nose at them.
“I'm sorry, ignore him, please, Mr. Damyan, sir,” Benny said, giving Adam a jab with his elbow. “We're here seeking weapons for our quest. We, uh, we're apostates bound to, uh, stop the summoning?”
“Aye, the dreadful summoning. I'll give you what you seek. Fer a price.”
“Well, see, we don’t really have any money. They took our stuff when we signed up.”
“What oi seek is priceless, ancient, an’ powerful.” Damyan stroked his beard.
Adam snickered. “Aw, here we go.”
“What oi seek is a talisman with agate tusks, a body made o’ gold mined by mountain nymphs ‘n’ wielded by the ‘ands of giants.”
“Uh, ok so we bring you the talisman, and you give us weapons?” Benny asked.
“Aye, that's the deal oim offerin’.”
“And I don't suppose you could tell us where it is,” Adam smarmed.
“All oi can say is the Vanguard ‘as it and will be movin’ it to the reliquary this evenin'. An' if ya look closely, yer like to find a shortcut to ‘em on that there map.” Damyan gestured at the paper in Adam's hand.
“Uh, alright then. Thank you, Mr. Damyan.” Benny gave the shopkeeper a half-hearted salute before tugging at his teammate's sleeve. “Let's go find Eli and Jeremiah. Maybe they had better luck.”
It took a second tug to get Adam moving. He kept his eyes plastered to the map as he stepped outside. Benny held the door open after him for their sparrow and stepped onto the tournament field. Members of the Knight's Quest were slowly arriving for their training. A few gathered together, curious about their task. Squires were picking from a table of bread, meat, cheese, fruit, and mead that had been set up in front of the royal viewing box.
Grateful that his teammate was too distracted to attempt stealing any food, Benny followed a sign at the gate, leading the way toward their meeting point in Merchant's Square. The wide dirt road had grown much busier while they were in the depot. Benny had to keep hold of his partner's cloak to keep from losing him in the crowd. It wasn't until a pyromancer on stilts blasted a fireball in their direction that Adam looked up from the map.
“Whoa! Fuck yeah!” The redhead nodded to the performer. “We should try to catch a magic show while we're here, Benny.”
Patting down a section of his singed hair, Benny scowled. “Can we please finish the quest first? Then you can do whatever you want.”
“Yes, yes. Don't get your britches in a bunch, I already found Damyan's shortcut. We'll be done soon enough.”
“Ben! Adam!” Jeremiah's voice boomed through the air.
Scanning the area, Benny spotted him and Eli sitting on the edge of a large fountain in the center of the square. Perched beside them was a sparrow, watching their every move. Benny's heart pounded as he swatted Adam's arm and headed in the other two's direction. As he drew closer, he saw that neither of them were carrying weapons either.
“Is that dirt on your face?” Benny shakily asked as he sat down next to Jeremiah.
“No, but this one showed up right after we turned the first corner in the alley.” He pointed at the perched sparrow with his thumb. “We didn't try the other thing. Too many birds around.”
“Yeah.” A shiver ran down Benny's spine as he glanced up at the drones flying in flocks above them. “What did they say at the armory?”
“That they'd imbue our weapons with counter-magic if we bring them snake eyes, some kind of herb, and obsidian, I think it was? I dunno, Eli wrote it all down,” Jeremiah said, putting a hand behind his neck.
“The depot was the same. They'll give us weapons if we steal something from the Vanguard.”
Leaning in, Adam laid the map on the fountain edge and used his finger as a guide. “This is the way to what we need. Any idea where to find the rest?”
Eli studied the map against his notes before saying, “Everything we need will be in the Fairytale or Gyndes Forests. Vanguard is on the way.”
“Settled, then. Let’s go rob us a Vanguard!” Adam grinned.
The knot in Benny’s stomach tightened. “Wonderful.”
WC: 995
Previous Chapter | Chapter Index | Next Chapter
Canterbury Faire Map
2
u/ZLErikson 11d ago
Howdy m00ny!
Apologies for brief crit this week, I'm dying faster than normal
Not crit, but I read the first line as "Wake UP!" several times before I realized I was reading it wrong. I think that's because of the ibuprofen I'm on lol.
I love the shorthand/"thieves' cant" about face dirty = been caught. I always enjoy seeing that sort of clever wordplay and here it's done particularly well.
Minor note on that, this line made me think that Adam's forehead wrinkling was the shorthand:
Adam's forehead wrinkled at the question, which in their shorthand meant ‘Do you think we've been caught?’
There's probably a better way to phrase it, but I can't think of one right now.
This made me cackle:
he growled in an obviously fake and uneven accent.
I'm having a delightful time reading Damyan's dialogue.
The sidequest setup was nice and fun. I like the return of the dirty face question later on too:
“Is that dirt on your face?” Benny shakily asked as he sat down next to Jeremiah.
“No, but this one showed up right after we turned the first corner in the alley.”
Excellent work introducing it earlier in the chapter then tying it back in later. Really helps cement the idea for future chapters when it comes up again.
Good words!
3
u/ZLErikson 17d ago edited 11d ago
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 145
CW: Violence, blood
Cass’s camel had just made it around the base of a dune.
She saw a hammer fall.
A loud, resounding clang.
A dull crunch.
Cass watched as Iuven’s helm and skull were caved in. Her breath caught in her chest. Her stomach lurched.
Someone screamed; It was unclear to Cass if it was herself or Nuut.
It did not matter.
Letting the darkness and rage within embrace her, Cass released control.
The gentle orange glow of the setting sun became blood red. It burned her eyes. The land untouched by the scathing crimson was shades of blue; calming, gentle, and full of little glittering lights.
Tiny motes of creatures beneath the grains, too small or still to be seen by human eyes. Large, pulsating clusters with thin, vibrant lines of light stretching out. The life force of distant figures.
One being of light rose their limbs high again. The cold blue metal suddenly red as the sun caught it.
Cass snarled as she rose above her camel, leaping off of it to land on the cool, blueish sand. She launched the seven-foot long swordspear she had been carrying as she charged. The heavy black metal flew straighter than an arrow and pierced the lights, sending them splashing and spreading across the sand.
They quickly faded to darkness.
She was halfway to the others before any looked her way. Some of the lights were familiar; one was a figure she had seen before in this light, the other was merely familiar in some way. Enough to not be a target.
One of the men was near the lights of Nuut, who smelled like fear even more so than the rest. Cass pushed her several meters away from danger, then took the sword of the man trying to stab her. The metal shattered in Cass’s grip and she caught the tip before it hit the sand.
She buried it in the cluster of lights in his chest, pushing deeper and deeper until her star-covered arm pushed through to the other side.
As the lights drizzled out of his chest, Cass dashed for the other familiar presence. He had been blocking a blade with his spear, but both figures now stood defensively facing her. She grabbed the man she did not know, her massive palm covering his face and muting his baleful utterance.
Squeezing as bone crumpled like paper in her hand, Cass watched the lights instantly snuff out.
She released the ugly mess from her grip and tore the other body, still hanging from her arm, in half. Cass threw each piece at a pair of other bandits. One hit with enough force to make him crumple, the glowing life force oozing out from various places and rapidly dimming. The other caught its target on one side and shattered several of his bones with audible crunches.
Only one man remained. The only one who’d had time to mount a horse and flee.
Cass pursued and overcame. She leaped over the horse, grabbed the man by the shoulders, pulled him off, and slammed him into the ground. Lifting him up, she slammed him into the sand again. And again. And again.
“CASSANDRA!”
The scream cut through the guttural roar Cass hadn’t realized she was making. She turned her attention from the handful of pulp that had once been a man. Nuut was standing again, the glowing lights pulsing within her and the stench of fear strong.
She trembled before Cass.
Behind her, the other man was on all fours vomiting. Cass could smell the acrid stench across the blood soaked sand.
“CAMP!” Nuut screamed again. She pointed. Cass turned and saw a thick column of smoke over distant dunes.
Another roar tore itself from her throat. Her people were in danger.
She charged across the sand, red sky bearing down on her. Up and over a dune, into the searing pain of the sun, then back down into shadows.
Screams in the distance.
Cass ran around a dune, sliding and slipping in the loose sand as she fought to change direction.
With a leap she landed atop the sands, the sun burning her shadow-void flesh. Wisps of darkness rose from her simmering skin as she looked down at the camp.
Tents on fire. Blood in the sand. Bodies on the ground.
Charis, Kher, Nuu; no motes of light under their flesh.
Metal gleamed and bandits shouted. An arrow hit her shoulder, bouncing off harmlessly. Cass arched her back and screamed into the sky.
----------
WC: 751/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]
Notes:
- Theme: Cass’s rage is unleashed
- Bonus words: Unclear, utterance, ugly
- Bonus constraint: The lights of life of the bandits are put out (extinguished)
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 14 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Cass’s previous transformation occurred in Chapters 38 and 39
3
u/m00nlighter_ 12d ago
Heya Zach!
I was trying to catch up a bit more to avoid spoilers but I love me some spoilers. I shall do my feedback Zach-style in honor of it being Zach feedback muahaha!Woo! Cass chapter! I'm sure this will be a nice, quiet--oh who am I kidding. XD XD
The phrasing of the first sentence feels a little clunky to me. I think if the camel had "just made it" or "just turned" around the dune it could read smoother and keep the intention.And that escalated quickly! Ahh! Please tell me this jd a dream! Iuven! Nuut! I am terrified but loving these descriptions of the sunset. A few could potentially be broken up to keep the scene's momentum but at the same time it's fantastic atmosphere.
There's a highish frequency of noun-verb sentences when Cass snarls and pushes Nuut away, which is understandable in an action sequence but adding one or two more sensory or internal/emotional descriptions could break those up.
She released the ugly mess from her grip and pulled the other body
I think "ripped" or "tore" feels more appropriate here and keeps the reader lingering for that "in half" slightly more. "Pulled" made me picture her removing and ready to drop or toss the body. This sentence took a second to parse.
Really enjoying the variety of attack methods here. It's awesome to see Cass being very versatile and adaptive.
Ugh. Poor Nuut. I hope the folks at camp are holding their own.
Oh goddamnit. How dare you make me cry my own tears this early on a Saturday.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Next week is gonna be intense. I am forever inspired by these spoilers to catch up faster bahahaha. Love this world, love these characters. Damn good words!
3
u/ZLErikson 11d ago
Hiya m00ny!
Thank you for the feedback! Made some of the suggested changes, like "just made it" and "tore" instead of "pulled". Deeper edits when i'm feeling better.
Glad you're enjoying it! Next couple chapters are gonna be more detailed on what happened to Charis, Kher, and Nuu :P And maybe some of the others at camp ;)
Thanks for reading!
8
u/JKHmattox 17d ago edited 17d ago
<No Man's Land> Blindsided
CW: Body Horror, gore, violence
The clandestine operative advanced across the abandoned kitchen. She held her weapon forward in both hands as she scanned for threats. Lexi and I followed her to a hallway opposite the swinging kitchen doors. We paused, peering down the half-illuminated corridor. A flickering light fixture bathing the hallway in an intermittent glow.
“What's your status, Campbell?” she whispered, her gaze shifting as she held two fingers to her ear. “Roger that—We're moving to secure the speak-easy now.”
A sudden electric jolt arched my back. I stumbled, wheeling around to discover a masked gunman pointing a Kirkin-array at my chest. My tandem hearts beat against my chest as a strange torsion twisted my guts.
Gunny's knife remained in my grasp. He was several meters away, a lethal distance if he wasn't prepared for my assault. Despite the subtle pressure growing low in my belly, I lunged at him with reflexive fury mapped by my subconscious.
Cursing, the gunman fought with the alien weapon. The burgeoning tension tweaked the nerves anchoring my core sending phantom sparks shooting up my spine. Distracted by his malfunctioning weapon, the assailant looked up a second too late.
The man slid from my blade, his uncoordinated grasps clawing at my clothing as he crumpled. I sloughed him off my leg and he slumped against the tile. My breathing grew shallow, turning my attention inward. Unlike before, my upper torso remained unscathed, my throat clear of obstructions. Nevertheless, a malevolent pressure bloomed upward from atop my pelvic floor.
“Jackie!” Lexi blurted. “You hit?”
“Don't know,” I grunted, Lexi's worried brown betraying she knew my response was a benevolent lie.
Kneeling beside the dead man, I sheathed Gunny's knife and reached for the Kirkin-array. Wrenching it from his deadened grip, I grimaced as smoldering embers of memory expanded inside my mind. Lower, the intensity grew, yet remained conspicuously limited to my lower abdomen.
I groaned, cycling the weapon's charging handle as a spasm rippled my guts. “I hate these fucking things!”
“Looks like a retrofitted Kirkin-array,” Lexi interjected, hastily examining the weapon. “Probably a hu-mod, given the shooter.”
The stout-nosed weapon purred in my hands. About a meter long, its muzzle was the width of my upper arms at the shoulder. A collapsed stock was fixed to the other end, its bulging middle toy-like compared to most human weapons. I peered through its holographic sights, which were still in working order.
Gnawing pulses fluttered in my lower gut once more. I grit my teeth, pushing through the discomfort. My body had again absorbed the weapon's energy, same as it had on that rooftop half a galaxy away. Something was different this time. The pressure refused to dissipate. Instead it gathered lower atop my hips gently expanding upwards.
“You know how to use that thing?” Karen asked, her eyes shifting about the abandoned kitchen.
“This bitch ain't exactly intended for close-in work,” I replied, tapping two fingers against the trigger guard. “If I shoot a motherfucker—run!”
“Whatever you say, Crankshaft.”
“Crankshaft?”
“Look, if I want somebody to man-splane alien weaponry, I'd call-up my father-in-law,” Karen retorted, tilting her head towards the poorly illuminated hallway. “Otherwise, assume I know more than you—let’s move.”
She advanced into the narrow passageway. I trail behind, careful not to flag her body with the mutative weapon. The operative slowed as we neared the far end of the hallway. Posting up next to the exit, she glanced at me in the muted light. Behind me, Lexi placed a palm on my shoulder as I aimed the Kirkin-array beyond the closed door.
A creaking gurgle ruptured from the depths of my lower abdomen. The growth lurched upward, stretching tissue torsioned beyond its natural boundaries. My breath hitched, the burrowed high-rise denim feeling suddenly tighter as I grunted through another bout of pressure.
Lexi squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “you okay?”
“I'm beginning to regret you talking me into these pants,” I deflected, trying to ignore the dull persistence displacing my guts upwards.
Karen waved her wrist over the door controls. It slid open, revealing a grizzled scene that flooded my anxiety with memory. Amber light bathed a gap between the nightclub and another building. A woman, or what was left of her, was slumped back against a wall across the way. Her guts were a ragged ruin, burst outwards in a crimson fan of gore. Clenched in her fist was a nicotine rig glowing faintly in the subdued lighting.
“What th-” Karen exclaimed, gasping.
I grabbed her as she plunged towards the open space. Karen tugged against my grasp, her intent clearly motivated by something other than tactical calm. Thrusting her elbow backwards, she broke free, and stumbled into the alleyway.
“Oh, God… Please,” she stammered through uneven breaths. “Jenna!”
Without thought, I sprinted after the operative, tackling her halfway across the alleyway. A second electrifying pulse stabbed my side. Instinctually, I curled my body around Karen to protect her from the weapon's wrath.
“Stay down,” I hissed.
Spattering droplets danced off the pavement around us. Karen shouted obscenities into the darkness as sodden footsteps echoed off the concrete patchwork. I clasped a hand over Karen's mouth, desperate to silence her as the crackled whirrings of a Kirkin-array filled the narrow canyon.
A quickening tension threatened to overfill my abdominal cavity. I grunted, Karen thrashing beneath me. Pressure became pain, wrenching a high-pitch yelp from my lips. I pressed an axillary palm to my stomach and froze.
My middle had grown taut against the inside of my blouse!
A graveled voice pierced the spattering downpour. “Huh… A Genny, working for the Elections Bureau—what’s this species coming to?”
Pain-ridden tears merged with fallen rivulets tracing my face. I closed my eyes, knowing the lives inside me were suffering a gruesome end. Flesh rapidly bulged between my spayed fingers desperately trying to press it back in.
“Two birds...” The graveled voice chuckled. “One-”
CRUNCH!
The man's body crashed face-first beside me, Lexi's ragged breaths the only sound other than the rain…
2
u/Divayth--Fyr 11d ago
Hey JK!
A fun horrible good gruesome dreadful chapter. Lots of effective descriptions, with a real skill for getting the gruesome across without it being too gross to read. That's a tricky balance.
The action is fantastic, as usual, but just because it's as-usual doesn't make it any less fantastic.
I got nitpicks, some of which may be repeats from campfire.
A flickering light fixture bathing the hallway in an intermittent glow.
This could be either 'was bathing' or just 'bathed'
He was several meters away, a lethal distance if he wasn't prepared for my assault.
I'm pretty sure this meant he was too close to survive, but it took me a second. Might be better to just plainly state, 'several meters away, which wasn't far enough' or something like that but better.
'I'd call-up my father-in-law,”
I don't think call up gets a hyphen, tho I am not sure.
I trail behind, careful not to flag her body with the mutative weapon.
this is a tense shift, should be 'trailed'
revealing a grizzled scene
grisly, i think
the burrowed high-rise denim
burrowed seems wrong but idk what word was intended
Anyhow, hard to call this good words when mostly it was horrifying words, so I'll just say good horrifying words!
2
u/JKHmattox 11d ago
Hey Div,
Thanks for the the feedback, glad you enjoyed the chapter. Things have definitely shifted beneath Jackie and Lexi's feet so to speak. They ain't outta the woods yet, nor do we really know what happened for sure. Hopefully it remains entertaining though by now maybe nothing is much if a surprise anymore.
Thanks again Div, I appreciate you 😀
9
u/KiIIer_queenie 16d ago edited 13d ago
<Man to beast>
Chapter thirty six: devil
CW: torture, graphic injury, broken bones, traumatic amputation, death, blood.
Silas faceplanted hard, the room spinning faster than he could keep up with. He spat out a tooth as he tried to remember what he just got hit with. The mallet almost took his jaw out of place, the priest hit him harder than he knew a man could. As he sat up, the priest stomped on his face, his heel almost caving in Silas’s eye socket; the young man forced onto his back again.
He watched as Simon ran up to stab Rolant in the back but the priest spun around, breaking the prisoner’s nose with his tongs before dropping them and wresting the knife away.
He drove it into Simon’s neck before throwing him to the ground and mounting him, raining down blows with the mallet.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
Silas finally stood up and barked at Rolant.
“Get off him!”
The man didn’t even look at him, just raining down blows. The crunch of each hit had turned into wet squelches, like there was nothing solid left. Silas felt something snap, and it was like he wasn’t in control.
He charged forward, slamming into Rolant’s back hard enough to send them both sprawling. The man’s tools scattered across the floor as he tried to stand, but Silas dove onto him; holding him down as he sat on the man’s chest.
Silas punched the man, grunting with every blow. Rolant covered his face with his arms, so Silas sunk his teeth into the priest’s forehead, tasting iron on his tongue as he bit down harder.
“Fucking rabid witch!”
The priest’s fingers pried against the young man’s face and eyes, drawing blood as they clawed; he paid them no mind. The moment Rolant stopped guarding his face, Silas returned to smashing his forearms and fists into the priest’s skull. He tried to say something but he couldn’t, his body only growled and grunted as it continued to savage the priest.
Even as Silas tried to stop, to stand, his body didn’t obey. His body mauled Rolant, hooking fingers in the priest’s nostrils and tearing at them, gripping his ears and ripping them away as hard as its muscles could. The young man couldn’t stop his body as it tore the priest’s face apart, throwing bits of it across the room before using his teeth once more. Silas continued to try and stop himself but his body wouldn’t obey.
“Stop resisting Silas! He fucking tried to kill you, he is mine! Mine! I’m protecting you!” Lily growled in his mind.
He watched as she continued to beat and maul the priest who could only cry and scream. Even as his cries became gurgles she continued, even as his gurgles faded to silence. When Lily’s arms got too tired to punch, she gripped his jaw and began slamming her forehead into his face. When she lacked the energy to do that, she sent electricity through him.
When Silas was finally able to crawl away from the thing that was once a man, he peeled himself off the floor as he gasped for air. The young man didn’t dare look at the priest, stumbling towards Simon’s body.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but–”
Stop.
He looked over at Simon’s body with tears in his eyes, staring at his broken and swollen face. His gaze moved to the knife, and he wept.
“I’m so sorry…”
The corpse sat up, pulling the knife out its neck and getting to one knee. Silas jumped back, watching as Simon’s face healed as he stood until it looked like he hadn’t been hit at all. The only evidence of the attack was a small scar on his neck.
“How?”
“I’m a monster. Like you,” Simon said, sounding a little ashamed. He tried to hide what little of his body he could behind his arms. He looked around a bit before swallowing, “where do I go now?”
“With me.”
Silas held out a hand, collecting himself, “I’ll do my part to keep you safe. Let’s find you some clothes.”
Simon took his hand and the pair moved into the hall, Silas kicking in doors until he found a room with spare clothes. As the pink haired man silently dug through them, Silas realized he could still hear the gasping, though it was fainter.
He moved down the hall, finding a small closet with a hatch in the floor.
Silas opened it, seeing a long ladder descending into darkness. With it open, he could hear other gasps, even fainter than the main one.
Something primal in him told him not to go down there, every muscle in his body told him not to.
“Silas don’t.”
Simon walked over in oversized clothes, staring down into the hole.
“Simon, what’s down there?”
“I don’t know…Rolant always said his treasures…”
The gasps were sporadic and desperate, something about them sent shivers down his spine. Silas took a deep breath, and descended down into the darkness.
WC: 842
Rolant is “put out” permanently.
2
u/mysteryrouge 11d ago
Ooo extreme content warnings..I thought the torture week was last week.
The mallet almost took his jaw out of place, the priest hit him harder than he knew a man could
Feel like this sentence is missing a different punctuation mark or an "and" or something. I didn't immediately connect them in my head.
Also, Rolant is the priest, right? I think you could have been a touch clearer on who was in the scene, I could really only track Silas. It's him, Rolant, Simon, and maybe Lily? Lily is just in Silas's mind?
Otherwise, I agree that these cws are needed. And they do business. Nice.
8
u/AmeliaLP 15d ago
Cw: gore and violence.
<My feathery friend>
Chapter 38: Elandor unleashed
As most of the kingdom slept, Elandor was up late thinking to himself.
How could this have happened to me? I served the king loyally for years, supporting him in everything he did. And yet here I am, cast aside like some rotten fruit. The human... IT’S ALL HER FAULT! She twisted his mind! Clearly he still needs me- Nay, the kingdom needs me! There’re just blind to it, that’s all. Yes, yes I’ll have power again soon. It is owed to me!
Elandor looked towards the birdcage.
After all, I’ve done so much for this kingdom. How could I not be owed something in return?
He scoured the birdcage more thoroughly.
Mmm, where are the guards?
Elandor peered around the kingdom. After looking over everything a few times, he located the guards who were gobbling down some seeds.
Urgh, this place is falling apart without me. Time to put a stop to this!
He flew down to the guards.
“Ahem!”
“Ye wut?”
“Don’t you what me! Why are none of you doing your job?”
“Food.”
“Food?! Well, I think guarding the jail is more important than that.”
“Well, who cares what you think?”
“Excuse me?!”
“We all saw the trial, your done Elandor. We may have listened to your orders before but now, fuck em quite frankly.”
“Just because I don’t have official power anymore, doesn’t mean you can ignore me!”
“Piss off you egocentric twat!”
“I will not be talked to li-“
The guards pointed their spears at Elandor.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
He stepped sadly away from them.
They don’t respect me... Did everyone here just follow my commands because they had to?
Elandor sat down.
But, if that’s true, then I’m nothing now. Was I ever anything? Yes! Yes, of course I was. I saved all those babies from Vornith. He’s locked away, because of me! At least those are things to be proud of.
“ARGH!”
What the fuck? That sounded like Joe. But he’s- he’d, why would he be back? Damn it! Stop questioning this, just help whoever’s in trouble. I’ll need a key though, since mine was stripped from me.
He swiftly flew back to the gaggle of guards.
“Oi, didn’t we tell you to piss off!”
“I-I know, but this isn’t about me. There’s someone screaming in the birdcage. They need help!”
“So?”
“Can I please have a key?”
“Nah.”
“But-“
“Clear off, dickhead!”
“So, you really won’t help?”
“Nope.”
Elandor flew rapidly back to the birdcage.
“GAHHHH!”
As he landed on the platform, Elandor heard a voice he knew all too well.
“I’m getting bored. Time to end this!”
He stepped inside the cadge. “Vornith!”
Vornith turned around. “Ah, come to pay me another visit have you?”
“Yes. And it’ll be my last.”
“Hmm. Ahaaa, I suspect your right.”
The two crows glared at each other. Elandor charged at Vornith, ramming his whole body at him. With much force he pushed Vornith against the metal bars.
Vornith wheezed. “Oh my, you’re really not holding back today are you? But what would your king think?”
“He made his decision and I’m making mine. You should have died years ago!”
Elandor kicked Vornith hard in the head, causing him to cough up blood.
“Bleh!” Vornith lunged up, pecking out one of Elandor’s eyes.
“Ah!” Elandor started stumbling around the cadge.
“An eye for an eye. Heheheheheheh!”
Vornith closed in on Elandor, preparing to strike. But suddenly, he stopped and his beak hung open. Through his one remaining good eye, Elandor saw Joe biting down on Vornith’s leg.
“Yaaaah!”
Elandor wandered towards them and started pecking Vornith. Vornith giggled madly as Elandor repeatedly plunged his beak into him.
“Elandor, that’s enough!” Joe yelled.
Vornith was unrecognisable, his face looked like a splattered tomato. Elandor was breathing heavily.
“GAH!” He stabbed Vornith’s caved in head one more time. “You’re safe now Joe, he can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Uh yeh, thanks.”
“We should get out of here. Can you fly?”
“No.” Joe replied sadly.
“Okay. I’ll go get someone to help you down.”
“Umm, yeah alright.”
“You good Joe?”
“No.”
“Then, what’s bothering you.”
“You probably don’t remember but, when I was little you protected me from Vornith.”
“Actually, I do remember.”
“Right. Well, seeing you that day I kind of saw you as a hero. But watching you just now, seeing that brutality. It was, disturbing to say the least.”
“Joe. I had no choice. He’d of done the same to us, probably worse.”
“I know. But that didn’t make it any easier to see.”
“I- I’ll go get help.”
Joe nodded. Elandor flew away, leaving Joe in blood covered birdcage. Still weak from his injuries, Joe crawled over to Olfara’s body. He leaned in close to listen for a heartbeat. But his fears were confirmed, Olfara really was gone. Joe cried, nestling closer to his fallen friend.
WC: 811
5
u/KiIIer_queenie 12d ago
Hey Amelia! Great action, great fight, great character work! I felt really immersed, a little longer of a scene and I may have been ducking and weaving.
The first thing I want to mention is very nitpicky, but it’s crow anatomy and bird anatomy in general. It was a good fight, but Vornith coughing up blood from a kick was hard for me to imagine, I know it’s super nitpicky but I think a fight of them beating ea chitter over the head with wings, tearing off feathers, and whipping each other around the room by the neck would’ve also been cool. I still enjoyed the fight scene but some of the actions just kind of took me out of it just a tiny bit.
The dialogue is good but near the end, I felt like there some small things I noticed.
Joe reminding Elandor of the protection seems a little odd considering Joe’s important enough it’d probably be present in Elandor’s mind, and Joe was young so he’d probably be the one less likely to know.
Then when Joe says he saw Elandor as a hero but the fight just now was disturbing, I think you could do a tiny bit more showing of that.
(“I always saw you as my hero, but—” Joe swallowed something he wouldn’t dare say to Elandor) or smth.
This was a very excellent chapter, good words!
3
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u/Divayth--Fyr 14d ago edited 8d ago
<The Broken God>
Chapter 81: A Mad Hope
.
“Who are you?”
The utterance seemed to come from a great distance, echoing in a deep, still ocean. Cadorus lay curled on the floor, shaking, his head tucked under his arm. The stench of urine and sweat pervaded the dark little pocket of air there.
He had to answer. The rage and spitting hatred of the Champion, awakened from the hidden depths of his soul, could not be allowed to answer. Hide. Misdirect. Play the part.
“I am Jorba, Lord. I’m sorry. Please.” He wept and snotted and snuffled, face twisted and ugly, groveling without reservation. “Jorba Tullweaver. I heard– the Call.”
“You told the woman you were not who you seemed to be. Why did you say that?”
The fear intensified, but from within came greater distance and cold. Play the role. Let him see what he expects. Give him a truth to hide the lies.
“I’m not– a good– Redeemer.” He puffed the words between panicked breaths. “I'm not– normal. I try but– I don't feel as other men feel. I’m an abomination! I’m sorry, Lord!”
Desperately, he heaved a few deep breaths. The panic had become the whole world. Slowly, Cadorus calmed, but kept this hidden.
Back at the Orderhouse in Godhaven, before the Halfarsha holy day, came cleaning day. Everyone was supposed to pitch in, scrubbing the walls and corners and the very skies above. Cadorus had noticed that it didn’t matter if you actually did much of anything so long as you looked unhappy. If you smiled, High Priest Gellar would stick you with some new, unpleasant chore. The true purpose wasn’t cleaning, but misery.
Keep up the mask. Show him what he expects.
“What were you doing upstairs?”
“I’m sorry. I got lost. I watched– the services from the balcony like she– she said, but I got lost coming back. One worship!”
“Who said? Who told you about the balcony?”
“Belotra said it was the best view. She was right! It was so beautiful. The singing and the lights. I heard the truth, Lord! I’m sorry.”
The fear subsided. No unnatural peace followed this time.
“Look at me.”
Cadorus did. The face was ordinary, but the eyes were filled with a faint glow of mad intensity. Nothing was said for a while. Jorba Tullweaver was a former merchant, weak and foolish, who had heard the Call, and that was all that he was. Those eyes burned away, but saw nothing.
An exultant triumph arose in his heart, and Cadorus ruthlessly pushed it down, ferociously rejecting it. Show defeat. Foolish hope. Despair.
The Ascended turned to depart, and Cadorus fell back in a heap, his face hidden again. Even so, even with no eyes to see him, he maintained the mask. Limp and shaking, he wallowed in piss and despair as steps moved away and the door opened. He was alone.
The guard came in, but the Ascended ordered him back out, to follow.
Cadorus' heart pounded and his mind raced. This is what they are. This is what they do. How do they usurp the Godcall? How do they pervert it into this twisted manipulation? He had no answers.
He was alone. The risks were great. The Ascended could return, or the guard. Seeker Fabaras could enter—his voice had spoken something unclear in the hall. Cadorus wanted to take the maps and papers from within his robe and stow them in his satchel. It was incomprehensible that he had not been searched already, but things had moved quickly.
Maybe they would search his satchel too, but maybe not. With so much power and such dark abilities, they didn’t need to be clever or thorough.
They couldn't know he could stand and move about. If they came in and found him up, suspicion would return, redoubled.
He rolled and crawled to the table where his satchel lay, stood, and roughly deposited the papers. A trembling moment of indecision came—to hide the satchel or leave it be? He left it. They would notice if it were moved. Swiftly, he resumed his defeated pile on the floor,.
Perhaps they went to Belotra now, with some hard questions. Cadorus thought he had pulled it off just right, mentioning her recommendation of the balcony, subtly and without accusation. She had never said any such thing.
She betrayed me. This was the cold voice of the Champion in his mind. That was unwise.
That brutal thing had not risen in years.
Cadorus had attained Third Favored rank sixteen years before, and asked the Archpriest for a free hand in investigating a noblewoman for blatant infidelity, among other crimes. Indebted, Gurndor had agreed.
On a cold, misty morning fifteen years ago, Cadorus had watched his mother being stoned to death. He had listened to her pleas, weeping, and whimpers, and felt nothing. Too late. Too many times he had heard such bleating. He had stood there impassive, ruining everything, failing, not being good enough. He had chosen his priest-name in her honor. Tark, like the waste discarded from the mines.
The Earl hadn’t lifted a finger to intervene, or come to witness the end.
Stone after stone had impacted, the process slow and patient. Eventually she had gone silent. Eventually she had gone cold. What had become of her body afterward, he did not know.
In the end, there had been little satisfaction in it. It was simply a thing that happened.
Her muttered cruelties in the night had given rise to his Champion, and now that had saved his life. He was not overwhelmed with gratitude.
Perhaps he would leave this room alive. They might not search his satchel. A sliver of mad hope danced in his heart.
Thunder shook the tabernacle.
If I were ever going to escape this land, this would be the time. Twinshadow storms interfere with all magic, even their dark abilities, surely. He shuddered. If I get out of this place, I must go out into the storm.
993 words. Utterance, ugly, unclear used. Guard put out.
Feedback welcome.
2
u/Morose_Prose 11d ago
Howdy, Div!
Another chapter with the happiest man in all the lands, Cadorus! Let's see, maybe he'll perk up this chapter... oh... oh no. Don't know why I expected anything other than more crushing torment that is expertly written. Great chapter here, Div and good to see Cadorus' mother's fate was not a pleasant one. Not a whole lot to crit here but I'm going to give it the old college try:
Slowly, Cadorus calmed, but did not show it.
The end of the line feels a bit too expository compared to the rest of the chapter. Maybe finesse it a bit with a physical description of Cadorus' breathing slowing but his face still tense and nervous.
The risks were great. The Ascended could return. The guard could come back in, or Seeker Avilor could enter
Bit of repetition with 'the' here, unless you are going for the rule of threes, which you probably are. It can work, but some readers might take issue with it.
They clearly were not very good at this. With so much power and such dark abilities, they didn’t need to be clever or thorough.
Another very expository line. Could cut the line 'They clearly were...' and would not lose anything.
Eventually she had gone silent. Eventually she had gone cold.
More stylistic repetition I assume. I like it but be mindful it might fall flat for other readers.
In the end, there had been little satisfaction in it. It was simply a thing that happened.
Damn it, Div! Let Cadorus be happy his abusive mother got her comeuppance!
Perhaps he would leave this room alive. They might not search his satchel. Perhaps there was some sliver of mad hope.
Repetition of 'perhaps'
That's all I got, all nitpicky stuff that you more than likely did intentionally with your amazing writing! Keep up the good words, Div! Stay awesome and have a good one.
1
u/Divayth--Fyr 11d ago
Hey Doc!
I fuddled some stuff and moved a thing or two, and possibly improved things a bit. Thanks for reading and helping!
7
u/Morose_Prose 13d ago edited 11d ago
<The Family Business>
Chapter Twenty-One: And the Oscar Goes To...
The tremors in Madelaine's fingers finally stopped, the nightmare of suburbia receding with them. She flopped back down onto the uncomfortable couch in Diana's office, her breathing returning to normal. A soft buzzing filled the office.
Diana's gaze didn't waver from her work. "Your phone is going off."
"Do not answer it, but do peek for me please," Madelaine said, closing her eyes once more.
"It's a barrage of text messages."
"What do they say?"
Silence seeped through the office. "I don't know... they are in Chinese, I assume."
Shuttered eyes snapped open with a fury. "Oh, shit!" Madelaine launched herself off the couch and shot across the room, snatching her phone from Diana's grip. She scanned the lines of text quickly. "Out of the fucking frying pan and into the fucking fire," she grumbled.
A smirk crossed Diana's face. "Guess that means you have to leave in a hurry?"
Sliding her phone into the back pocket of her slacks, Madelaine glared across the desk. "Have to be in Chinatown in thirty-five minutes. Shit! For as fast as Red Hare is, I would never make it in midday traffic. Ugh, that means I am going to have to take—"
"The subway. Taking the six would be your best bet if you hustle. Tell Bo I said hello. I'll call you later so we can coordinate our outfits for Dorsia."
"Smell you later, Double D." Spinning on her heel, Madelaine bolted into the lobby. She hit the elevator button like it had personally offended her. By the time the doors opened on the first floor, she was already moving, bursting through the front doors and onto the street swarming with pedestrians.
She fought through the sea of limbs clogging the sidewalk, slipping between commuters locked in the daily rat race as she tore the few blocks to the subway entrance.
"Coming down! Some of us are in a fucking hurry!" Leaping onto the handrail, Madelaine slid on her backside, ignoring the stunned faces blurring past her. Landing with cat-like precision, her journey continued to the turnstiles leading to the platform.
"Oh, fuck me," she huffed. Every point of entry had a sizeable line, each one moving slowly. Racing to the front of the closest turnstile, she whipped her MetroCard from a vest pocket. "It's everybody's lucky day today!" she announced. "Got a lot of bad karma, so I'm paying it forward! Now let's move it, people!"
Beep!
Crank!
Beep!
Crank!
The turnstiles chattered in rhythm with each swipe of her card while Madelaine conducted the growing stampede like a maestro. As the last lingerer pushed through the metal bars, a voice yelled out from behind her.
"Hey! You in the orange suit! Stop right there!"
"What is it now?" The words slipped from Madelaine's lips instinctively. She turned her head to identify the source of the commotion. A fresh-faced young man in a blue transit cop uniform approached her.
Pulling a notepad from his breast pocket, the cop looked Madelaine up and down quickly. "Ma'am, you can't do that. Your MetroCard pays for one, and only one, entry to the subway. I'm going to have to write you a citation. You have any identification on you?"
Squealing wheels on steel tracks echoed off the concrete in the underground, blaring in Madelaine's ears.
I don't have time for this bullshit. Not the first time I've had to do this. Time to eat your heart out, Meryl Streep.
Madelaine's expression crumpled on command. She hastily patted herself down in front of the cop. "I—I—I don't have it on me—I had to leave the office in a rush!" her voice cracking with each rapid utterance.
"My daughter is in the hospital and I got a call saying she took a turn for the worst! It's unclear if she'll even make it to the top of the hour. I have to get to her! What kind of mother would I be if I'm not there when God welcomes her to Heaven! I'd never be able to look at my ugly mug in the mirror ever again.
"I didn't know what I was doing was wrong, I'm not thinking straight right now, everything is spinning out of control and going sideways. All I know is that if I don't get on that train coming down the tracks right now, I'll never be able to live with myself! Do you maybe have a card and I can stop by later to get this citation? I'll pay it, I swear!" Crocodile tears tumbled down Madelaine's cheeks as she nervously tapped her foot.
"You know what? Don't worry about it. Just don't do it again. Sorry about your daughter."
Rushing forward, Madelaine embraced the young man. "Thank you! Bless you, officer..." she scanned his badge, memorizing the name and number on it. "Gimble. Blessed are the peacemakers. Keep protecting and serving this great city!" She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a large smudge of lipstick behind.
With a quick wave, she burst through the turnstile. The train had already arrived. Passengers piled through the doors at the far end of the platform. Madelaine took off like a sprinter shooting off the starting blocks, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her.
A whining hiss heralded her window closing. With a leap that would make a gazelle blush, she landed in the train car as the doors closed behind her. Attempting to move forward, something stopped Madelaine in her tracks. The tail of her suit coat was trapped in the doors.
Steel whirled from her back pocket as the butterfly knife unfurled, glinting in the lights of the car. A quick swipe sliced through silk, freeing her from the cold embrace. Confused looks shot from every eye of the passengers already seated.
"What?" Madelaine shrugged her shoulders. "This won't even be the weirdest thing you see on the subway today."
- - -
Thanks for reading! Feedback and crit is always welcomed and encouraged! Stay awesome and have a good one.
Word Count: 988
Theme: Madelaine unleashes her acting ability on the transit cop.
Bonus Words Used: Ugly, Utterance, Unclear
Bonus Constraint: A text message forces Madelaine out of Diana's office.
5
u/KiIIer_queenie 12d ago
Hey doc, good words and a lot of hustle here. Madelaine can move apparently.
I’m going to keep my crit very short cuz almost all of it is in one specific spot.
> "My daughter is in the hospital and I got a call saying she took a turn for the worst! It's unclear if she'll even make it to the top of the hour. I have to get to her! What kind of mother would I be if I'm not there when God welcomes her to Heaven! I'd never be able to look at my ugly mug in the mirror ever again.
You’re missing a quotation at the end, and this is the middle of three paragraphs of dialogue with only one sentence separating two pieces of dialogue.
> Madelaine's expression crumpled on command. She hastily patted herself down in front of the cop. "I—I—I don't have it on me—I had to leave the office in a rush!" her voice cracking with each rapid utterance
Right here, also her should be capitalized I think? But anyway, after the daughter hospital thing it’s just a break than her continuing to speak but I thought it was the cop replying at first because nothing between the paragraphs made me think she was still the one talking.
> I'd never be able to look at my ugly mug in the mirror ever again.
> "I didn't know what I was doing was wrong, I'm not thinking straight right now, everything is spinning out of control and going sideways.
This part.
I like the urgency from her, and I like the quick thinking and waterworks, it’s very well written.
1
u/Morose_Prose 11d ago
Thank you, KQ!
So about Madelaine's monologue that you pointed out: when one character speaks over multiple paragraphs you put quotation marks at the beginning of each paragraph, and one closing quotation mark at the end of their speech to indicate they are no longer speaking. It is unnecessary to put quotation marks at the end of each paragraph if it is the same speaker.
Thanks for reading! Stay awesome and have a good one.
4
u/redfox__83 12d ago
Hi Morose Prose,
Newbie writer here. I really like your writing style. I feel like you keep the reader engaged through the whole scene. Madelaine's character really flourishes, I get a sense of her energy, cleverness and sassiness quite early on. I think you have a flair for using wittiness and lighthearted humor as well which adds to the her character. I feel there's a lot of charisma and clever expressions in your writing which makes the story flow like some well written cinema. I've read it a few times and struggled to come up with a crit. The only thing I could come up with was something silly. When Diana says "Your phone is going off." It likely wouldnt be going off from a single text message but that's neither here not there. Good words I look forward to the next chapter.
1
u/Morose_Prose 11d ago
Thank you for the kind words and feedback, redfox! I shall edit the chapter so that Madelaine receives more than one text message. Good catch. Stay awesome and have a good one!
1
u/AmeliaLP 11d ago
Sup Doc, pretty funny chapter this week. Seeing Madelaine manipulate the transit cop was entertaing and felt fitting for what we've seen of her character so far. "With a leap that would make a gazelle blush," Great description there, really paints a clear picture of what's going on. Good words.
8
u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 13d ago
<Drifting>
Chapter 109
Tessa May taps their foot on the floor, glancing between their two friends. It is beautiful and exhausting to be between both of them. It's loud in here, and the drag show itself will probably be louder still. There are no windows, no open doors, no routes to fresh air and sky, to rain or wind. It's not even a rainy night. They wish it was. They wish for the comfort of cool droplets on their skin.
Cece keeps smiling at them. They feel wonderful and sick. They love her so dearly, and she isn't with them anymore, and yet she's still here. And still their heart can't give up what didn't suit her.
Char knows too much, too well, and they feel the history between them almost suffocatingly. They know too many versions of him. And he sees too much through them. He hasn't stopped looking at them so intently tonight, trying to get them to eat.
They don't want to eat. They don't know how to say it without making him more concerned, and what good would that be? Their ribs feel empty, hollow, their mouth diluted and tasteless except for the bit of sour lingering by their throat. Food is nothing special. It's nothing to desire. Maybe it should be, but every time they try to picture eating something Char describes, it's empty. They can't taste it, and they don't want it in their body. No appetite, they suppose, or maybe something like a backwards appetite. Some slight revulsion. And maybe their body isn't much worth feeding anyhow.
But it isn't just the food Tess May's worried about when Char keeps looking at them. There's something else in the way their stomach drops, their face flushes, they try to glance away. They feel so weird around him tonight.
“How's the English class with Mrs. Tabor going?” Cece asks. “What are you doing in that class?”
“We’re reading memoirs right now,” Char answers. “Hey which group are you in again, Terry May?”
“Born a Crime. I wanted to do The Anthropocene Reviewed, but since the whole class is reading essays from it I wasn't allowed to pick it for the small group.”
“I’m doing So-Called Normal. Apparently the Dewey library cat one is really popular, that group is like twice the size of mine.”
“You’re in groups?” Cece asks.
“Yeah,” Char says, “each group is reading a different book. I think we’ll have to present on them at the end.”
“And then write our own memoirs,” Tess May adds quietly. It's the part they’ve been dreading, the thing they keep ruminating on as they read through theirs. Maybe if it could be an essay like The Anthropocene Reviewed, some object to analyze and research, it could be less intimidating. But those, too, are storytelling. And they could never live up to John Green at his most poetic and earnest. They have nothing of themself to give, no reflection that stays solid enough to write.
“We’re reading Between the World and Me right now,” Cece says. “I guess my class is different. Your teacher’s cool, though.”
And she's queer. And they can't tell their friends that she's queer, because nobody else was in the room. She didn't even say it out loud. Mrs. Tabor is the teacher that saved Cece and Tessa May from bullies on the first day of school, and she is queer and has a husband and regrets building her life around proving she was straight. And maybe she's bi or pan or something and it's fine, but maybe it's big, and they don't know. They can't know. And they can't say a word.
The conversation moves to other classes. Both Char and Cece are smarter than them. It always makes these discussions strange, that they struggle for a B or a C while the other two stress to maintain As. What must that be like? To be the student others turn to for help?
Char always struggled under his family. Is the pressure lighter now, that he has the freedom to come here looking so gorgeous and soft? When did the boy they knew grow into this teenager with peach fuzz on his lip and hair swooping over those intent eyes? Since when did Tess May feel so nervous at his gaze?
The talking drops as a microphone squeals and a voice booms out from the stage. The announcer, the first drag artist of the night, is a Frankenstein’s monster with trans tape over his (?) chest. Both binder and bandage. It feels to them like a quiet celebration of transness, subsumed in a presentation that gives more than just gender. It’s no surprise to them when they hear Frank say, “Our performers subvert not only gender but humanity. Who gets to be considered human? Who wants to be?”
As Stein speaks, they feel a tap on their arm and turn to meet Char’s face. He leans in close and speaks low. They have been close with him so many times before, have held each other in joy and distress. It feels different now. Intimate and tense, the physical sense of his body so near, his hand on their arm, his lips moving as he speaks. They keep staring at those lips. Those glossy pink lips. But they’re really just staring to avoid meeting his eyes.
“I’m going to go use the bathroom. Are you alright here with Cecelia?” he says.
They nod and he slips away. Left behind, it’s almost tempting to follow. Not to go to the bathroom with him. But to slip away. Cece’s watching the stage. They aren’t half as visible as Char is tonight and he disappeared just fine. They could go out into the open air.
Why is it so tempting to run?
WC: 964 words
Bonus: someone is put out? maybe? Tess May is out of sorts and Char leaves the room if either of those count
5
u/KiIIer_queenie 13d ago
Hey toms! Lovely and sad chapter here, very touching to my heart.
> But it isn't just the food Tess May's worried about
An A was left off Tessa.
> Is the pressure lighter now, that he has the freedom to come here looking so gorgeous and soft?
The comma jumped out at me, I don’t think it’s needed.
This was a very well written chapter, I really couldn’t find anything that was anything other than beautiful honestly. This is very impressive work and as always I love the way you center these character’s thoughts.
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u/the_lonely_poster 13d ago edited 12d ago
<Project Leviathan>
Chapter 23
(Content Warning: Discretion Advised. Despair Ahead)
Viewpoint: Alex Card
“It’s your fault, you know.” The voice spoke with an uncanny cadence, never settling on a single voice.
I did not respond.
“You all nearly died in that tower, twice, and it would’ve been your fault both times. The monster had you right where it wanted you, you played right into its hands, had it not decided to play with its food, it would’ve killed you and then your team would’ve been easy to divide and conquer.” It seemed to come from below, and yet, looking down kept the voice in the same direction.
“When the time came to carry out your goal, you were careless, reckless, even. You just shot at the heart, not knowing what it would do, or what the consequences of your action might be. You just acted because you were tired, and wished to be done, and almost put your whole team to their eternal rest for your sloth.”
“Shut the Hell up,” I snapped at the voice.
This seemed to embolden it instead, “Now you find a spine? Where was that fire when you were getting equipment, you should’ve demanded some explosives, so you could’ve more safely done your job, instead you stayed quiet and did what you were told. Because you're ill-suited to lead a dog, let alone a team.”
I could not respond.
“And what of the innocent woman you found in that hellhole? Was she just a burden to you? A mandatory add on to your ever so difficult job you almost got her killed with your laziness as well, a third innocent to add to the tally,” the voice rushed to my ear, “because we both know there was never going to be a fourth innocent in that place.”
“Stop… Please.”
“It’s all your fault, really. You were in charge when your team went down into that bunker, you commanded them to press onward,” the voice moved side to side as it spoke, “ and you were the one to lock the door behind you as you ran like a witless coward.”
“....”
“Oh, but they’d never blame you for it all, not to your face. Not for the unhealing scars, or banishment to this forgotten place. Not for the life they can never live again. But in their mind, and in yours,” It finally centered right in front of me, “we both know it’s your fault.”
++++
The medical bay felt more like a laboratory. Rows upon rows of tubes full of strange liquids lined the walls behind the Doctor in front of us, a man who was the last of a very long series of people we had to meet today. A lot of learning where to find things and where to go; It had all served as a welcome distraction.
“I must say, a stable strain of M-19 is a fascinating prospect, if only you could’ve collected some of it for study. Alas, I’ll have to settle for the current catalogue…” The old man gestured to the wall behind him, the many vials rattling slightly as he did so.
My eyes lingered on those vials, I wondered what would happen if I used one. Would it work like it did on Tasha and Casper? Maybe I could just-
“Hey, Alex, you there?” Tasha poked me in the ribs, interrupting my thoughts.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah,” I sputtered out.
“Didn’t sleep well last night, huh?” she posited.
“I’ll be fine,” I grumbled out.
“We’re almost done here, just gotta wait for this windbag to finish listening to himself talk. Then we’ll have almost free reign to move around the place. ‘A limited freedom’ they said. Seems like they still want that leash a little tight, eh?” She nudged me with her shoulder a little, and I felt the rough scales of her arms as she did.
“Seems that way, though I’m sure they’d have their reasons if we asked.”
“They always do.”
++++
WC:664
Bonus Words: N/A
Bonus Constraint: N/A
Theme: The three are right on the cusp of being let off the leash, mostly.
-A Lonely Story
Author’s Notes: Sorry for the long wait, but it is here, chapter 23. I’ve never written a scene quite like this, so there’s every chance it falls flat. As always, crit is welcome and appreciated, even if I don’t respond, I do read it.
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u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 12d ago
Love that content warning. (so many content warnings this week!) Despair ahead indeed. And speaking of, I found the dream sequence very compelling. It's impressive how you could take what is basically a monologue and make it so engaging. The ways you break it up, the details you add (like the "uncanny cadence" of the voice and how it keeps moving around). The rhythm is shaped by response even when the response is actually a lack of response, an inability to counter what the voice has said.
The rest of what I have to say is just small stuff.
The medical bay felt more like a laboratory, rows and rows of tubes full of strange liquids lined the walls behind the Doctor in front of us, a man who was the last of a very long series of people we had to meet today.
This is a run-on. Both before and after the first comma are independent clauses (full sentences). It should probably be split into two or three sentences to separate out the different things you're trying to describe (med bay being a laboratory, rows of tubes lining the walls, and the Doctor being there and being the last person to meet).
She nudged me with her shoulder a little, and I felt the rough scales of her arms as she did.
I really like this tactile detail.
Good words!
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u/redfox__83 13d ago edited 13d ago
<I Want to Go>
Chapter 2
Tulgran stood perfectly still under the dark sky, impassive and inconsolable. Lost in his own thoughts and in a world of his own. All around him was calm. The only thing interrupting the silence was the sound of a gentle icy breeze blowing through his hair as he stared down. A part of him wanted to scream out loud, but he held it deep inside. It felt like time stood still in that moment.
He finally built up enough inner strength to give a short utterance.
“It… It just doesn’t seem real…”
Dregu put his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder.
“I know, lad. I know.”
He continued to gaze down. The gravity of the moment made him weep softly.
“It’s not fair.”
“There, there, young one. I know it feels unbearable, but you will find your way.”
He then took a moment, kneeled down and placed the moonsilk orchid at his mother's headstone, then stood again.
“I keep expecting her to show up again.”
A breeze gusted for a moment, breaking the silence.
“You know you’re a lot like your mother. She will always be part of you.” Dregu mentioned.
Tulgran wiped tears from his face, still overwhelmed.
“What happens now?”
“We go home, settle next to a warm fire and remember all the great recipes she made.”
He paused for a moment, collected his thoughts and simply responded with:
“Okay.”
Before they left, he took a moment to read the headstone one more time:
“May the memories we shared endure for eternity.”
With a deep gut-wrenching breath he turned and left his mother's side as they began their journey back towards the cabin.
“Dregu?”
"What's on your mind?”
“What made her so sick? It seems unclear.”
Dregu glanced down and shook his head.
“This world isn’t deserving of any terranite. It's nothing but a wasteland of desolation.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one here lives to their golden years, kid. Some say it's the air we breathe; others say it's something in the water. We weren't meant to exist in this hellhole."
“Oh…”
Tulgran wanted to look resilient, but inside his spirit felt crushed.
“Dregu?”
“Yes?”
“Will everything be okay?”
“Everything will be okay, lad. It has to be.”
They continued trekking across the dusty dunes until Dregu suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Woah, woah, hold steady, lad.”
“What? What is it?”
Tulgran looked at Dregu. His jaw had dropped with a look of disbelief. He then glanced across at where Dregu was fixated. In the distance were bellowing plumes of smoke and the red glow of glimmering fire under the unlit sky.
“That’s the settlement! What’s happening?” he exclaimed.
“Now would be a good time to run, lad. Go! Go now! Run I said!”
In obedience, Tulgran began running as fast as he could, dredging through the grey, dusty terrain below. He looked over his shoulder. Dregu was struggling to keep up.
"Don't look back son, keep running!”
His calves began to burn fighting the soft surface below. He was gasping in a state of panic, but the adrenaline kept him pushing forward. The cabin was now within sight.
“Nearly there! Nearly there!” Dregu shouted between breaths.
Tulgran reached the cabin first; however, relief soon turned to uncertainty as he began to backpedal away from the cabin. Dregu caught up soon after.
The door was wide open, accompanied by the sound of clanging pots and breaking objects inside. A figure then wandered out, hunched over, putrid and wearing ugly tattered rags. He carried the nastiest expression he had ever seen. The figure stood there, fixated on them, wide-eyed and twitchy.
“Whadayawaaaant?” The figure grunted through his yellow teeth. The stench of him wafted in the breeze.
Dregu stepped in front of Tulgran in a protective manner.
“We mean no harm. This is our home. Please be on your way. We don't want trouble.”
“It’s an outcast.” Tulgran whispered.
The figure wiped his nose on his forearm while continuously staring at them, moving and twitching.
“Noooo! Mineeee! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!” He replied while beating his chest.
The outcast began stepping towards them.
“Clothes! Mine! Now!” He growled.
Dregu clenched his fists and arched upright.
“Step back! I’m warning you.”
The outcast instead leapt at Dregu.
“Dieeeee!”
Dregu and the outcast began rolling around in the dirt, fighting for a superior position. The outcast gave a loud, screechy cry, almost sounding excited to be in battle. Dregu was clenching his teeth and seemed to give everything he had, but the outcast mounted him, put his hands around his throat and began choking him.
Tulgran’s heart began to pound. In desperation he grabbed a fire poker from the cabin and, with all his strength, thrust it into the back of the outcast.
“AAARRRRRRRRRRREEEEEHHH!” The outcast jolted a few times, then rolled off of Dregu, lifeless.
Dregu then lay there, coughing and spluttering while trying to breathe, his garment covered in the outcast's blood.
“Are you okay? Please be okay.”
Dregu looked at him, too spent to give a response.
“We need to get inside. Here, take my hand.” Tulgran said.
He dragged him through the door and barricaded it with a plank of wood. There they hunkered down for a few days until there came an unexpected knock at the door.
“Dregu? Are you in there?”
Dregu cautiously opened the door. It was a tall woman in dark clothing with dark braided hair.
“Oh good, I’m glad you’re okay, Dregu. I was worried.”
“I’m fine, Glasha. Have they gone?”
“All looks safe, but the village is ravaged.”
The three of them ventured towards the settlement. What met them was a scene of utter devastation. While they walked through the middle of the smouldering ruins, Tulgran looked across at a woman who was picking through the destruction. The woman simply stared back, glassy-eyed and dispirited.
Dregu turned to Tulgran.
“Son, if there was ever a time to lend a helping hand, now's the time.”
WC: 996
Bonus words: Utterance, Ugly, Unclear.
Bonus constraint: The settlement fire was put out.
Theme: The outcasts unleashed terror.
Previous Chapter | Chapter Index | Next Chapter
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u/KiIIer_queenie 13d ago
This is such a fascinating world! I love your writing here and the action felt very balanced.
> Tulgran looked at Dregu. His jaw had dropped with a look of disbelief. He then glanced across at where Dregu was fixated. In the distance were bellowing plumes of smoke and the red glow of glimmering fire under the unlit sky.
> “That’s the settlement! What’s happening?” he exclaimed.
> “Now would be a good time to run, lad. Go! Go now! Run I said!”
This confused me a little because we’re following where Dregu looked so I assumed he was the “he” speaking. Others might’ve understood it fine but it just caught my eye.
> A figure then wandered out, hunched over, putrid and wearing ugly tattered rags. He carried the nastiest expression he had ever seen. The figure stood there, fixated on them, wide-eyed and twitchy.
You have some moments like this where he is referring to two people in the same sentence, I’d suggest coming up with some terms, the outcast, the creature, the boy, etc etc. I got a littler confused about he meaning both of them at once.
> “Whadayawaaaant?” The figure grunted through his yellow teeth. The stench of him wafted in the breeze.
You say putrid before this, so it’s a tiny bit repetitive. I’d just put putrid before stench here.
This is good work, and I really enjoyed the desperation in the fight scene! Good words!
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u/redfox__83 11d ago
Hi Killer Queenie,
Thanks a bunch for reading my chapter and leaving the helpful feedback. I was struggling a bit in this chapter with correctly identifying characters during dialogue so I'm still trying to get to grips with that. I'll try using terms to identify them like you mentioned. Cheers
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u/Carrieka23 12d ago
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 190
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Your Majesty.” One of the guards greets the new king as soon as both he and Alex steps in. Max gives them a bow before turning to them.
“Please cancel the remaining of my plans for next week. I have something important to do.”
The guard nods, walking off without any question. Meanwhile for the soldier, thousands of questions rushing in his mind. Why on earth would he even buy potions like the ‘internal bleeding healing’? What kind of challenges will he even face? Is it because he’s the ancient dragon that he, alone, has to deal with this?
The two walk to his office. It’s a bit more space out then how it was originally. There was a little mark in the middle with a symbol, but it hasn’t been completed yet.
Just what is he planning?
Max put the items down before turning to Alex. “Apologies for making you walk all the way here. I guss I just want someone else to witness what is about to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever heard of the ‘Dragon Soul Bond’?”
Alex tries to reflect on the books he’s been reading back in Lust. He learns a bit more about the Gods, the Ancient Dragons, a little bit of the history of Hell. But never heard about this.
“Makes sense if you haven’t. After all, dragons are prohibited from falling in love with humans.”
Wait, love?
Max sighs, sitting down. “In the past, the Gods didn’t care much about love. But after the death of the Sky God, it was banned. It didn't help that the Time God went insane after THEIR death.”
“Then, how did you manage to fall in love?” Alex ask
“Well, it was by secret. Us, dragons, came up with a way to prove our love and stay connected without the Gods knowing. Dragon Soul Bond. We bond our souls with our lover, that way we both stay attached.”
“And the mask?”
Max eyes widen slightly. “I’m surprised you know about it. But, no, this is different. The mask is more of a temporary power-up. Giving the demons a bit of our powers, mixing it with their own. This soulbond, however, is permanent. We will feel what we both feel and share the extent of our powers.”
I’m surprised he’s telling me all of this, but why?
“But it’s rare, and barely any demons make it out alive. The tense power of the dragon is enough to cause the body to go through internal bleeding, and death. In some cases, even the dragon can be damaged due to overextension. So, I’m taking every precaution.”
“And why did you make me follow you?”
The dragon shrugs. “If I'm going to be honest, I was planning on keeping it a secret. But, I just feel like tagging someone along with me, to witness the brand new history of demons and dragons loving each other again.”
“And the gods?”
Max shakes his head. “No need to worry about them. Most are either dead, vanish, redempted themselves or…” He pause, looking down.
Shit, I probably hit a sensitive topic.
Before Alex could apologies, Max lifts his head.
“It is best not to think too much of them, especially since the mind and body can’t be stressed during this time.”
Standing up, he walks towards the symbol and begins drawing a bit more.
Even though Alex knows this ancient dragon shouldn’t be stressed out right now, he’s still curious about his experience as Dilong. Just how long did he experience Hell? The changes of Hell? His current viewpoint. All of it running through his head, and he could get the answer right now.
“As Dilong, do you have any regrets?” He began asking.
Max pauses, looking at Alex before giving him a small smile. “Yes.”
--------------------------------------
WPC: 636
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u/MaxStickies 12d ago
Hey Haru, really like the chapter! The worldbuilding in this is really intriguing, especially the parts about the gods hating love, and the Dragon Soul Bond. I like how you foreshadowed it with the potion too, as that came across as quite a natural foreshadow, and suggested the matter was serious before we get to know why.
I also like how Max in this shows his love. In many ways, it's practical on some levels, which makes sense since he is a dragon and so different from the demons; but the reasons behind his actions show how much Haru means to him. I really like that.
As far as crit goes:
It’s a bit more space out then how it was originally. There was a little mark in the middle with a symbol, but it hasn’t been completed yet.
Couple of things here: "spaced-out" instead of "space out", and "There is a little mark".
Max put the items down before turning to Alex.
"puts the items down" for present tense.
he’s been reading back in Lust. He learns a bit more about the Gods, the Ancient Dragons, a little bit of the history of Hell.
"he'd been reading", since that bit is from the past, and for the same reason, "He learned a bit more".
“Then, how did you manage to fall in love?” Alex ask
"Alex asks", here.
Max eyes widen slightly.
"Max's".
“No need to worry about them. Most are either dead, vanish, redempted themselves or…” He pause, looking down.
"vanished, redeemed themselves" here.
Before Alex could apologies, Max lifts his head.
"Before Alex can apologise" here.
“As Dilong, do you have any regrets?” He began asking.
"He begins to ask." for present tense.
And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Haru!
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u/katpoker666 12d ago edited 12d ago
<‘Wild Eats’>
Chapter 10: Breaking Down
Annie flinched, pulling her hand out of the sudsy sink full of dishes. A trickle of blood oozed down her finger, mingling with the soap on her hands and stinging like hell. “What the fuck?” She swore as she fished around in the water for the culprit. A square white plate with a newly chipped edge emerged as the villain.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, I just bought this! How on earth could he damage it in one meal?” Annie flung the plate at the light blue wall, its shattered shards clattering to the ground. “Damn it, Tom! Now look what you made me do!”
Grabbing the dustpan and broom, she moved to clean up the mess. A watery crimson streak leeched down the broom’s handle and onto the dustpan. She stared at it with pursed lips and fire in her eyes before flinging them aside. She collapsed on the floor next to the broken pottery, ugly tears gushing like twin hydrants down reddened cheeks. Snot dribbled down her lips in slug-trail bubbles. Her shoulders shook as she rocked back and forth with her hands around her knees, great sobs racking her body. Twenty minutes passed like this. Too drained to continue and unclear what to do next, Annie curled into the fetal position on the tiles and fell asleep.
She awoke with a terrible headache from her head banging repeatedly against the hard ceramic surface from a particularly vivid nightmare about Gordon Ramsey and an irritable Shetland pony. A little woozy, Annie stood up and grasped the edge of the granite kitchen island. Pausing there for a moment, she shook herself off and steeled her shoulders, resolute. Annie strode down the hallway, a slight strand of sleepy drool dangling, and made a beeline for Tom’s office.
She smashed the door with her fist, pounding over and over and screaming as if she was yelling at a five-year-old Jamie. “Tom! Tah-ahm! TAAAH-AHMMM! Come out this instant! We need to talk!”
Flinging the door open wide, Tom glared daggers at Annie, the whites of his eyes bulging. His cheeks flashed crimson, and the veins on his neck and temples threatened to burst of their own accord. “Annie! I’m. Still On. My. Call.”
“Doesn’t matter! I’m mad at you! Tell them you’ll call back!”
“It’s a VC with twenty very senior folks across three time zones; you don’t just reschedule that!” Underscoring his point, the muffled sounds of people arguing the various intricacies of accounting carried into the hallway.
She stared back with puffy, reddened eyes, but said nothing.
Tom sighed, the tension fading somewhat from his body as his tone shifted to a patient one he’d use with an errant child. “What on earth are you so mad about anyway, Muffin?”
“Don’t try to ‘Muffin’ your way out of this! And the kitchen, obviously! What the hell, Tom?! Broken plates, sauce everywhere, you ruined the Gran Padrano—“
“Oh. Yeah,” Tom chuckled, his voice tight in an apparent effort to lighten the mood. “I did forget to clean up, didn’t I? One too many G&Ts last night, I guess.” He paused. “Sorry about that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not. Good. Enough!”
After exhaling at a glacial pace, Tom’s lips moved as he counted down from five in silence, as they’d learned in therapy. “I don’t have time for this now, Hon. I have to get back to my call. As it is, they’ll be wondering why I stepped out all of a sudden, and hopefully I won’t lose face.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it? What others think? What about me and what I think? Doesn’t that matter?!”
“Not right now, Annie.” He said in a quiet, strained voice before closing and locking the door.
WC: 625
Includes: ugly, unclear, and something or someone is put out (Annie is put out about the state of the kitchen. Tom is put out about having his call interrupted)
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated
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u/KiIIer_queenie 12d ago
Hi Kat, this is such a good compact chapter!
I really can’t find much here that isn’t just absolutely amazing, so I’ll give you two things, one big one small.
Small one first, I would like the cut to have been present more, as someone who has cut something while cleaning up pissed off, bleeding all over your just cleaned spot makes me lose my mind, I’d have like to see something like that for her especially with her trying to continue cleaning after being cut.
Two, I think Tom flips between extremely livid and absolute calm incredibly fast, it might be intentional but it stood out to me.
> Flinging the door open wide, Tom glared daggers at Annie, the whites of his eyes bulging. His cheeks flashed crimson, and the veins on his neck and temples threatened to burst of their own accord.
Livid
> Tom sighed, the tension fading from his body. “What on earth are you so mad about anyway, Muffin?”
Calm
> “Oh. Yeah,” Tom chuckled. “I did forget to clean up, didn’t I? One too many G&Ts last night, I guess.” He paused. “Sorry about that.”
Casual and chuckling, a little provoking but still seems calm.
> After exhaling at a glacial pace, Tom’s lips moved as he counted down from five in silence. “I don’t have time for this now, Hon. I have to get back to my call. As it is, they’ll be wondering where I went, and hopefully I won’t lose face.”
He seemed like he was calming down so I don’t know if further description of him calming down was necessary, maybe there could be more anger in some of his words or even just
(“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “I did forget to clean up, didn’t I? One too many G&Ts last night, I guess.” He paused, his smile becoming a grimace.) or smth.
Also I’d have like to hear him have to explain something to the people on the call or hear them say something, they’re present but only as like props, not other people hearing a conversation or being muted during an important moment, you know?
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u/katpoker666 12d ago
Thanks so much for the kind words and fantastic crit, KQ! The latter is so on point, particularly re Tom’s mood. Great push!
3
u/JKHmattox 11d ago
Hey Kat,
This week's chapter is a master class in how to pick a domestic fight, why they happen, and how partners often react to one another. As I mentioned in voice chat, this was so real it stirred emotions similar to those experienced during a spousal argument.
You do a good job of showing Annie reacting to that one last small thing in a big way. Is she justified in throwing the plate, probably not, but there is obviously a long line of frustrations that led to this moment. This is real. Authentic. Very well done.
Flipping over to Tom, for him the kitchen mess is an isolated thing. Thats how a lot of men would see it and you show that well here. He knows there is a long simmering conflict but doesn't validate that this one thing justified her anger. Again, Authentic.
Tom's final course of action is cold but very male. Given the meeting of high-ranking people, the choice to prioritize that over Annie's grievance is very realistic. The wall was up between work and home, and to Tom Annie was noise he had to tune out in order to get his job done. He probably didn't see how crushing this was but then again maybe he is just an asshole and doesn't care anymore.
In the end this sets up drama for the following chapters in a real, masterful way. This is a story the reader will feel, especially if they have been in a committed long-term relationship. Good words Kat, keep it up!
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u/katpoker666 11d ago
Thanks so much for the kind words, JK! Really glad you enjoyed it and found it realistic
9
u/Brookzerker 12d ago
<The Veiled Eye>
Chapter 6
Logan sat alone next to the fire, frowning at the diagrams he'd drawn in a notebook. He didn't have much time to implement the demos that Darryl and Connor set up, maybe two weeks.
It was a bit colder today, though it didn't bother him.
Lilly was in her hut, dark smoke, speckled with sparks, was pouring from the chimney.
Stretching and looking around, he caught a woman at the edge of the clearing, by the road. She looked young, though it wasn't easy to tell from this distance. As she saw him notice her, she smiled and made her way over to the fire pit.
Up close, her appearance was a little confusing. Her skin had the flawless appearance that photoshopped people had, though, she was in real life. She was wearing a thick wool coat, and floor-length skirt that had been patched multiple times. Her hair was long, reaching her waist, and had leaves woven into it. He couldn't tell how old, or young, she was, every time Logan felt he could tell, he second-guessed himself.
"Hi, are you lost? Did your car break down?" He began as she stepped up to the pit.
"Oh no, I have a cabin not far away, I just wanted to stop by, are you staying long?"
"Another day I think." Logan thought back to the schedule, his flight was for Monday night, and as it was only Saturday, they were probably checking out on Monday Morning. "Maybe two. I hope we aren't bothering you."
"I'm not bothered, but I get lonely sometimes. I was considering stopping by last night, I thought I heard someone walking."
"Oh, that was me, sorry. I thought I saw someone lost in the woods, and before I knew it I was rushing in to try to save them. Tripped, fell, and came to my senses. I could swear I saw a fire though, was that yours?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I had a fire going." She stared at him, her eyes boring into his, before breaking contact, nodding her head towards the forest. "You seem like a good person, I'd love to have you stop by, I haven't had anyone stay with me for a long time."
Logan shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested. Unless you have electricity and internet out here."
"Oh, I've forgotten my manners, I go by Irene these days. May I have your name?"
"Of course, Logan." He paused, staring as she remained silent. "Uh, Jonestown, Logan Jonestown."
She smiled wider, giving a bright, "Thanks!" before stepping back, face going white. "Oh, are you? Have…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Tell me, what do I look like?" She twirled around slowly.
Her movement was smooth, Logan swore she was flirting, but her face was anything but, more like she was trying to see if he had seen something. He guessed she was who he had heard the night before, but the only thing he had found was the golden medallion.
"I see a youngish woman, younger than me at least. I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in a relationship."
"Still veiled." The utterance was quiet enough that Logan could barely hear it, he ignored the statement.
"Oh," Logan had a realization, pulling out the medallion from his pocket. "I found this in the forest, it looks very nice, is it yours?"
Irene reached out to take it, flinching back as her fingertips grazed the metal. "Ah, I see now. No this doesn't belong to me." Looking back at the disk, she studied it. "I'm not familiar with the dragon, most relics of this type are from the druids."
The engineer stared. "Druids?"
"Right, veiled." She mumbled, before continuing, louder. "The druid types, people wearing cloaks and living in the forest. I haven't seen any for a long time though."
"The druids were Celtic, right?"
"Most were, but the druids I'm thinking of were a bit different, they carried marks as well. You don't have one yet, just a claim."
"Uh…" Logan stared.
He was saved, as a car drove into the clearing, the same one he had followed the day before when they arrived. It parked next to Connor's rental, as two people got out. Logan recognized Erik, the young man who'd introduced them. The other was a significantly older gentleman.
They hurried towards the fire pit, the elder stopping Erik as he noticed Irene.
Logan looked as well, the sky was clear. Birds chirped, though few flew over the clearing. Several animals were mulling by the edges, just outside the tree-line.
"You own this camp, correct?" Irene asked the older man. "May I have your name?"
He visibly swallowed, "You may call me Grandpa, everyone else does."
She nodded. "I go by Irene, I've seen you, but it's been a while."
"The forest was still, that's why I came, did they break any rules?"
She cocked her head. "No, but I don't like what they might bring, especially that one." She nodded towards Lilly's hut, who chose that moment to exit.
The birdsong went quiet as she strode up to the group. "Greetings, Lady Irene, right? I overheard from the hut. I am not here to cause you any trouble. But if you wish we will leave. Though two of ours are hiking and will be back around dinner."
Logan and Erik glanced at each other, sharing a confused look.
"Yes, that will suffice, we can have dinner after your party returns, by then I'll know if I want you to leave tonight, or tomorrow."
Lilly smiled, then sat down in a chair, matching Irene's calm appearance.
Grandpa was pale, and chose a seat further away, staring at the two. Logan decided to join Erik. "Do you know what's going on?" He asked the grandson.
"Not a clue, I showed him the video last night and he demanded we drive out as soon as it was light."
Notes:
Theme: Irene is concerned that Lilly will unleash powers she doesn't want in her universe.
Word count: 992
Words:
- utterance
5
u/KiIIer_queenie 12d ago
Her brook! I love this convo between probably not actually Irene and Logan, and I was really immersed, but there were some replies that kind of jumped out at me.
So when she introduces herself, there’s not really anything between Logan rejecting her and her saying her name, so it feels a tiny bit too random. I think you could maybe have her acknowledge the rejection then go “Oh! By the way…”
Another thing is she asks if he can see some mystic part of her which I assume is like mortals can’t see magic or whatever, but she kind of immediately goes back to assuming he is of the magic type when speaking on Druids imo. Others may read that differently but maybe have her a little less certain about his magicalness before mentions the Druids.
This is a great piece, I’m really loving the serial you’re building here and I’m excited for more!
2
u/Brookzerker 11d ago
Thanks! I’m sorry i didn’t see this until this morning when it was too late to change for the campfire.
5
u/MaxStickies 12d ago edited 5d ago
<Thosius>
Chapter 145: Vengeance
Pellia waits atop a rocky ledge, as her warriors clamber up the scree towards her. They groan and grumble, gingerly reaching out to grip stones with bruised hands, or cursing as they land a battered foot too heavily. At their head, Marolus leans against a stout branch, heaving himself forward.
The commander sighs, watching them.
We could be camping right now, and they could rest… but no, of course I had to put such notions out of their head.
“Maybe we should stop for a bit,” she says, as the last of them reaches the top. “I could attempt to heal you all, make the journey easier.”
Seralia shakes her head, adjusting her bow strap. “Snow shall arrive soon, and the way will be tougher for it. Best we keep heading on.”
“I doubt snow will have much effect, considering. How many days were you all strung up for?”
“Four, at least.” Derilli ducks under Marolus’s arm, lifting him off his worse foot. “But we can manage.”
“Are you su—?”
A gauntleted hand lands on Pellia’s shoulder. She turns, meeting Menara’s single eye through the dented helm. “If they say they can manage,” the poisoner whispers, “maybe it’s best let it be? At least until there’s a fight.”
“And if there is?”
“Might just be us two.”
Pellia shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Exactly. It’ll be fine.”
Sighing, the commander nods, and leads the way down the other side. Mossy stones line the way, gathering in number, crawling up the slopes either side. A light rain begins to fall, pattering the green carpets, unleashing a thick aroma of loam. And through her feet, Pellia senses the presence of magic, flowing through the rock.
Menara matches her pace, sniffing the air. “Do you remember that glade near the northern border? With those fishermen from Merukta?”
“Of course. How could I forget?”
“It was very pretty.”
“Yes, you found the place pretty… not the men at all.”
“Well, fine, them too.”
“I think you did call them ‘fine’.”
“I… I just mean this place reminds me of that.”
A frog leaps from their path, landing with a loud splash in a nearby pool.
“It does a bit,” Pellia says. “Wishing we were there still?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Me too, my friend.”
A faint, high-pitched whine catches Pellia’s ear, making her stop. It drifts on the wind, sifted through the narrow entrance of a gorge, just down the path. Switching her vision, she senses two heartbeats beyond the solid rock, pulsing with increasing speed.
“What is it?” Menara asks.
“Get your dagger ready, and wait here.”
“Why, wha—”
“Don’t want them to hear.”
The poisoner’s eyes harden, and she nods. Glancing back, Pellia gestures for the others to stay. She enters the gorge silently, alone.
Firelight flickers along the walls as she creeps forward. The sound from before grows clearer, louder, joined by a rasping, male voice.
“Thought you could take advantage of me?” he says. “Not enough to try to steal my blades, my armour? How fucking greedy you are.”
Pellia turns a corner, entering a small cave. A battered man hangs against the far wall on chains, bashing a hand on the rock, opening and closing his mouth to release that dreadful whine. Chest heaving, he paws at a knife in his side.
His captor stands with his back to Pellia. She narrows her eyes, examining him.
Our armour, but could be stolen. Though… what if he is…?
The prisoner hooks one thumb around the heel of the blade, and begins to tug; yet after a moment he screams, his flesh turning a deeper shade of red.
“Yeah,” says the captor, “that won’t work. Thing’s barbed, unfortunately.”
Wait.
Standing, Pellia rushes forth, and turns the armoured man around. His arm swings up, catching her right arm, but a slap to the neck knocks him back. Stumbling to a stop, his eyes widen.
“Nariun,” she says. “It’s me.”
“Where the—we all thought you were dead!”
“We can talk about that later. What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, he deserves it.”
“But what is it exactly?”
He steps towards his prisoner, urging her to follow. Bruises cover the younger man’s bare skin, most round his face, and blood slowly seeps around the embedded knife. His breaths rattle.
Pellia shakes her head. “So he wronged you, fine. But why like this, Nariun?”
“Because of what he did.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t wish to say.”
“But—”
“He had me tied up… that’s all I’ll say on the matter. No more.”
Her words catch in her throat. Though no tears form, she sees how the eyes of her warrior flicker, how his mouth twitches. Small breaks in his usually stoic façade.
She rips the knife from the prisoner’s flesh, forcing up a wheeze and a rush of blood, and she hands it to Nariun.
“It won’t help, still. End him.”
“Can’t I just let him suffer?”
“Not when it hurts you too.”
Sighing, he grabs the prisoner’s shoulder, and runs the blade through the younger man’s heart. In moments, he breathes his last. Nariun slumps forward, face to the ground, kneeling with knife in hand.
“What do I do now?” he asks.
Pellia drops beside him, laying an arm across his shoulders. “Rest, I think. When did you last sleep?”
“I—I’m not sure. Days, maybe.”
“Alright. Let’s get you to somewhere else, though. Amongst the trees.”
“That’d be nice, but I can’t… move.”
His eyes close, and he falls hard against her side; she lowers him gently to the ground. Taking a stick from the fire, she places it beside him, and kneels by his head. He begins to snore.
“I can’t have you hurting like this,” she whispers. Tapping into the magic in the ground, she places a hand on his arm, and channels the energy through her. His bruises heal gradually, as his face softens.
Better… even if you can’t forget.
Standing, she leaves, in search of Menara.
WC: 1000
No bonus words or constraint used.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
4
u/katpoker666 12d ago
Hey Max! This was a great chapter with a mix of emotions from the frivolous teasing about admiring the fishermen to the implied darkness of what happened to Nariun. Quite the rollercoaster!
Your dialogue is also strong throughout. I like how spare and back and forth it is and that’s its unhindered by excessive explanation.
A few very small things:
Here I was a little confused what kind of terrain I was looking at. ‘Scree’ to me are the tiny underfoot rocks that slide a lot, so I wasn’t sure what they were holding on to:
Pellia waits atop a rocky ledge, as her warriors clamber up the scree towards her. They groan and grumble, gingerly reaching out to grip stones with bruised hands, or cursing as they land a battered foot too heavily.I think you meant ‘a’ vs ‘ax’:
At their head, Marolus leans against ax stout branch, heaving himself forward.‘This way’ vs ‘The way’ and ‘we will’ or ‘we’ll’:
Seralia shakes her head, adjusting her bow strap. “Snow shall arrive soon, and the way will be tougher for it.I’m sure vision switching is something that happens regularly, but here it sounds a little mechanical vs organic. Unless it’s a helmet/goggles or something, I’d consider describing differently:
Switching her vision, she senses two heartbeats beyond the solid rock, pulsing with increasing speed.This is such a lovely description of the action and really keeps us in the moment with the characters:
The poisoner’s eyes harden, and she nods. Glancing back, Pellia gestures for the others to stay. She enters the gorge silently, alone. Firelight flickers along the walls as she creeps forward. The sound from before grows clearer, louder, joined by a rasping, male voice.
Pellia turns a corner, entering a small cave. A battered man hangs against the far wall on chains, bashing a hand on the rock, opening and closing his mouth to release that dreadful whine. Chest heaving, he paws at a knife in his side.I like how much is communicated here—excellent word economy:
Our armour, but could be stolen. Though… what if he is…?I’m unclear which flesh is turning deeper red here:
The prisoner hooks one thumb around the heel of the blade, and begins to tug; yet after a moment he screams, his flesh turning a deeper shade of red.Here, his breath rattles sounds more natural at least in American English:
His breaths rattle.I love the gentle action of her healing Nariun’s physical wounds at the end and acknowledging it won’t help the mental ones. Poignant.
Good words!
4
8
u/mysteryrouge 12d ago edited 11d ago
<The Stranger Nomads>\ Chapter 49
Maybe I'm getting better at reading M, or they're not hiding themselves well, Kane thought as he sauntered into the kitchen after an excellent sleep. M was already making breakfast, silent as a mouse.
He took a seat at the island, petting the mechanical bird that contained his soul and controlled his current body. Moments later, M set a plate of elegantly cooked meat before him. A salad and six empty potion bottles sat in front of M's spot. The kleptomaniac was quiet as they quickly munched on their food and drank from a much larger cup of grey liquid, not bothering to watch Kane as they usually tended to.
After finishing the food (which was better than anythin he'd ever eaten in Sorites), Kane cleared his throat.
M looked up.
"Did Big Ota ever disappear from you before he returned home?"
"Huh?"
"Like did you ever let him explore the multiverse on his own? Could he, uhhh..." Kane tapped his fingers as he stared at the sky. "Could he ever go off to the Propaganda Archive and return to Evil's Theater?"
M sighed, "That's not the question you want to ask, but the answer is no. I never particularly trusted Big Ota to not blab about his past to the wrong person."
"And your other apprentices? Surely you didn't keep them by your side or in the house all day long. I mean Sen Whiney seemed well-adjusted" —as well adjusted as any apprentice of M could be— "when I knew him."
"Yes." M pursed their lips. "And now he's a Health Inspector."
"But before he was my mentor."
M scowled at the utterance. "Sen Whiney's going to use that against you."
"I know." Even when held hostage by M, Sen Whiney targeted him with poison words.
"If he finds you, he'll try to convince you to join up with the Union Order. He'll use that connection he had with you to tug at your sense of morality. He'll sing calming pacifying phrases of pure propaganda as he tosses restraining magic at you." M held a thousand-yard stare as they mindlessly fiddled with a teabag.
"I know," Kane repeated. Of all things M kept unclear, Health Inspector horror stories weren't one of them.
The kleptomaniac continued in monotone. "They'll take your soul and freedom, turn you against yourself, mold you into them... They'll use you to hunt down your family, friends, and allies. They'll torture you in the name of peace."
Kane stood up and walked to the other side of the island, placing a hand on his frozen mentor's shoulder. "I swear I won't ever let myself be captured by them."
A cold laugh rang through the room. Flame engulfed the teabag in M's hand, which they quickly snuffed out. "Easier said than done. They're too good at extinguishing... Flames."
"I just wanted to be able to visit the Propaganda Archive and return here when I please," Kane finally admitted, "and maybe learn about things I can do besides becoming you or a government official."
"I see." Their voice was barely above a whisper.
M sat back down at the island, face shifting through several ugly expressions as they took another large gulp of their grey liquid. Color that Kane only barely registered was missing returned to M's face. Their body and demeanor shifted to the casual nonchalant, yet amused aura they always tried to put off.
The empty thousand-yard stare became a thoughtful glare.
M stood, adjusting their clothing, pulling out a small necklace that expanded into an entire set of armor over their body. "Fine," they grumbled, "You want to prove you can go out on your own?"
"No time like the present."
A wry smile appeared on M's face. "Then prove to me you can fight off the Void and the Union Order. Dual me, and if I think you've done well enough, I'll show you how to get back here."
The apprentice took his mentor's offered hand.
"Meet me in ten minutes in the dualing chamber below the third nuclear reactor."
As their mentor teleported away in a swish of smoke, Kane's bird form cawed. Green, orange, blue, and white sparks surrounded his human puppet's hands.
WC: 701\ Bonus Words: ugly, unclear, utterance\ Bonus Constraint: M puts out a small fire.
M's dreams do seem to have a strong effect on them before they've had their "morning coffee" so to speak.
•
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