>>23340717
also pls use pastebin for longer pieces.
fuckit i'll post some of mine so mods don't archive

>>23340717
>Would you tolerate a whole novella of this style? Memoirs of a deathless chinaman, his rise from streetkid to oligarch. Please tell me what works and what doesn't and if the style is too high falutin. I think my pace is being crushed by verbosity and overdescrip:

They were as good as dead the moment our men departed Beijing Airport. Wen's lieutenants kidnapped Armitage's niece and nephew, along with their three children (ages 9, 7, and 3), while the family vacationed in Spain. I wanted their deaths to be swift, ideally unseen and unfelt; but Wen convinced me that the syndicate with which we were now gridlocked would require something more concrete. "West hooligans pay no mind to a shoulder tap," he said. "Only listen after their eyes are gouged out." And Wen was absolutely right: the neat disappearance of a few family members would not suffice; a blunter education was, regrettably, necessary, as was the documentation footage* of the young family's destruction. But the severity of the penalty, the extent of their suffering and torture -- that grey area; those nebulous terms -- troubled me deeply, and for longer than I care to admit.

Fortunately I was distracted by my own part to play in our brand's repositioning. While Wen's men severed and filmed in an Asturian villa, I left my beloved north capital fortress and flew to London with my own phalanx to set about surveillance. Another key difference between west and east pressed heavily upon me as we monitored our targets: the idea of familial independence, of progeny breaking cleanly from their originators. Here was Armitage's daughter, by all accounts and appearances as uncrooked as her father was bent. She retained the family name (a mistake in that she was just that much easier to find) but accepted none of her father's or brothers' blood money. She had no ties to her family's illustrious empire, the firm, as the old man called it. She and her mulatto sons lived in a modest estate apartment in one of the safer housing parks of Wembley; a lieutenant reported she worked part-time from home in carbon tax crunching. Just a regular woman, her summer fading gracelessly into autumn, who liked to cook ravioli and gulp down Guinness alone when she wasn't screaming at her eldest boy or staring blankly out the kitchen's west-facing window where, if she'd squinted, she might have seen me, just over 304 metres away according to the viewfinder. But just because she was a tax payer, a citizen with only a few teenage shoplifting crimes to her name, this did not disqualify her from our game. (To think anyone off-limits, anyone immune to redirected death, is to break the very first rule.) No eastern warlord's daughter would ever dream she was exempt from punishment for her father's crimes; I felt a twinge of pity for Rebecca Armitage, then, watching her jet cigarette smoke in her kitchen: it was not hubris but ignorance that condemned her, a total naivety to the truth of the world.

>>23340727
2/2

*Many years later, I would attend a screening of S-films at an art gallery in the city on the sea; as luck or destiny might have it, one of the shorts featured in the anthology that afternoon would be a highlight from this same footage collection: a grisly piece of theater, performed and produced by Wen's hatchet men, and starring, in their simultaneous debut and swan song, Armitage's traumatised niece and nephew-in-law, whose children had been mercifully slaughtered before them (and before them)^ that dark chittering night in Villayon.

^(I am reminded of that famous koan drilled into schoolboys (not me or Wen, sadly), wherein the monk promises the nobleman an auspicious family fortune: "First the grandfather dies, then the father, then the son." At the nobleman's outrage, the monk merely shrugs, "What order would you prefer?" Indeed, it may be hard to see clearly but, in the case of the Armitages, an inversion of the order of deaths was fortuitous, not only for them, but us too.)

>>23340727
>While Wen's men severed
what does that mean?

>the firm, as the old man called it.
cliché

> mulatto
outdated terminology

>carbon tax crunching
sounds nonsensical

>304 metres
should convert to text

The prose is otherwise pretty good I would say. It's not high-falutin, sounds like good spy thriller-type of writing.

>>23340806
yeah, maybe "Wen's men tortured" would be clearer. Thanks for other points too, really appreciate the feedback. Please post anything you want looked at and I'll return the favour

>>23340717
Haven't had a feedback yet: https://amazon.com/dp/B0D1L9R2JK

>>23341099
Great work on publishing a book anon! Crazy scope in plot. Amazon won't let me post a review, and I don't know how much feedback I can give you here, but well done bro, I'm impressed

File: photo-grid.jpg (749 KB, 2048x1536)

749 KB JPG

>>23340717
ok if no one's gonna post anything for feedback i'll bump with my own stuff every few hours to stop jannies from binning
Re: redundancy in a client's feelings, I am reminded of one of my more successfully ended clients. Mrs. "Zhao", 61-63, early retired, who was at the centre of a media hurricane concerning vigilante justice some years ago. Here I highlight and paraphrase a few soundbites recorded during our later sessions:

"When my daughter first went missing, I remember I was paralysed with guilt. And grief, already. More than grief: failure. A punishment imposed on me for failing my offspring.

Many years before, I had watched a wildlife doc. There was a great storm at sea, and in its wake a mother sealion discovered her pup battered to death on the shore. She prodded its lifeless shape with her snout a few times on the rocks. Then her wails to the empty sky were as human and heartbreaking as any you've ever heard. She wasn't being punished by hubris or freak weather or circumstance. Her anguish was imposed on her by Nature. You have failed to protect your offspring, her cells were screaming at her. This anguish will continue until you produce an heir and look after them properly. When my ex-husband told me, I thought about this cruelty inflicted on the mother sealion by her own metabolisms -- as if she wasn't already painfully aware of her own grief -- a pain doubled, needlessly reiterated by Mother Nature. Mother Nature, in all her voracious lust for more lifeforms, more, and ever more suffering and cycling of birth and death. Maybe it makes sense in the animal kingdom. This blunt, heavy-handed underlining of the fact you have failed yourself and your child and your first Goddess.

But humans still suffer this same, additional kicking, when you are down already and know it. I thought about our other evolutionary hangovers. How our genitals' sensitivity to even the slightest pain is not so much for own good but Mother Nature's selfishness, her failsafe in ensuring we produce more progeny to please her. How your hand will flinch away from the flames, however much you will it to stay. However much you need to retrieve the object in the fire. Like you are some dumb animal who doesn't know they are in danger and pain. Like you need to be told again. All these unnecessary warnings and reminders. All this overkill from our nerves and bodies when our minds have already abundantly made their point. I felt all this and thought about all this when my daughter first disappeared."

>>23341599
>How our genitals' sensitivity

seems odd (even perverted) to me that Mrs. Zhao would say this as that's a typically male "sensitivity"

>by Nature
>Mother Nature. Mother Nature

I would avoid using these terms. it's kind of like you were talking about some philosophy and mention the philosopher by name. it's both cringey and an inappropriate shortcut to meaning

>>23341599
Cool but overwrought. Unless Mrs. Zhao is a a snobby college prof. the language feels out of place. There's a line to tread between the necessary eloquence to make it worth reading and presenting a character accurately, but the bottom line is that this didn't read like a simple paraphrasing of soundbites, and didn't sound natural at all. I imagine you're writing a fairly normal, if slightly upper class woman, who's simply had a lot of time to think on her feelings. You can refine the ideas but the language still needs to be simplified. In effect you've simply given yourself a medium to philosophize, meaning you're not really writing a character, and it reads that way.
>>23341624
>penis pain
Punch a tit or a pussy sometime.
>(Mother) Nature
Yes, awkward in this context because the language is too high-minded, but if it were dialed back per my suggestions above then it would fit in with the the way I'd expect an older middle-aged woman to talk about life. The idea of an external force compelling these things and struggling against it is interesting, and removing the entity of it would cost some of that idea.

>>23341624
>>23341640
Thanks for the feedback Anons. Yeah, I worried she might come across as overwrought and the narrator's paraphrasing unnatural. That's what I get for following Love's Executioner too closely and making my headshrink narrator something of a blowhard.
>Mother Nature
My ma (Mrs. Zhao template) is always on about this shit but two separate mehs from youse has convinced me it doesn't translate.

Cheers guys, please post if you want crit, I don't want to hog the whole bread with my filth

The sudden verbal onslaught reduced me to a void, an empty husk, an absolute shell of a person detached completely from any semblance of reality. It felt as if I was hovering overhead watching someone else stand statuesque while a beaming would-be housewife berated their complete and utter lack of appreciation. I should be used to her energy by now. The thought came out slow as sludge.
Then it hit me all at once. The stench of oil-soaked vegetables simmering. The sound of eggs crying out in horror as they hit a piping-hot pan, the unbelievably detestable odor of bacon frying in a fatty pool of its own making. My stomach turned and lurched the worst possible response out of me before common sense could save my soul.
“I’m not hungry.”

>>23341716
Good work anon, impressive vocab and strong voice, clear imagery. It's a bit too short for me to really get a handle on its greater purpose, but it reads humorous, like a mock epic.

>The sudden verbal onslaught reduced me to a void, an empty husk, an absolute shell of a person detached completely from any semblance of reality.
Nice redundancy in the narrator essentially stating the same thing three times, but perhaps change the starting tense to "The sudden verbal onslaught had reduced me ..." so that he has been frozen in agony forever already before it has even begun.

>It felt as if I was hovering overhead watching someone else stand statuesque while a beaming would-be housewife berated their complete and utter lack of appreciation.
Statuesque connotates beautiful, and beaming seems an odd choice; but if this is part of the comedy, then by all means.

>The stench of oil-soaked vegetables simmering.
Which vegetables? I've always thought bacon and eggs go together pretty exclusively, but if onions or similar is joining them, it'd be nice to see/smell/hear it more specifically, if only to add to the horror.

>My stomach turned and lurched the [object]
Unless the poetic use of lurch as a different kind of verb is part of the comedy/the narrator's misuse of words, maybe wrenched or sucked or Caesarianed might work better.

Great work, keep writing, and post more for better crit

>>23340717
Do you think it would be a good idea for my first book to be a romance story about a black trans crippled woman? Would that get published?

>>23340717
https://www.scribd.com/document/551280851/Unfiltered

was doing a dark knight prequel a long time ago, unfinished but has some good dialogue

Hello, I am an ESL, and I kinda wanted to see how well does this little piece of text fair towards the Anglos of /lit/ :),

Palpitating heart—lub dub! lub dub!—step by step. I only hear the whispers of my therapeutic wheeps, corridor turning into peephole—claustrophobics' nightmare— tongue soothing quivering lips. Lub dub! Lub dub! Here it goes, stupid heart, reminding me I am alive; I had finally placed my feet centimeters away from gate of dread. I knock the door—bang! Bang! Bang!—I shake, I fear, and with anticipation I feel. Teeth chattering and hands frigid, after a short lapse, my butcher had arrived, opened the gates of dread, he did. Abandon trace of I, invest all in him, be educated, give courtesy, and make it sound like prosody.

He had spoken, I contract, I beg for my voices to not make me mad.

>>23342770
Wow, I expected to be flamed.

Yes, this passage is meant to be comedic. Good call on statuesque. Need to change that word.

>>23343378
>>23341716

>an empty husk,

delete

>watching someone else stand statuesque while a beaming would-be housewife berated their

use "another man" and "his, not "their" which makes you sound like a fag (and yes, delete statuesque)

Otherwise, pretty good.

>>23341716
*also after >>23343390 brought up, if you want to be grammatically correct, I'm not sure someone can berate a reaction/lack of, only a person can be berated. I think.

>>23343160
I've only read the first ten pages but very snappy bantz, well done. Is she meant to be Harley Quinn? You should definitely finish it man.

>>23343231
I applaud your command of our language eslanon, and I'm sure this was very fun to write, but I think most readers will be turned off by the purpleness of your narrator's prose. Does something happen after this? Good work, keep writing

>lub dub
Is this some kind of Rick and Morty Squad?

>>23344447
I'm glad you liked the beginning of Unfiltered. I kept improving it over and over based on feedback. There are a lot of easter eggs referring to famous standup comics

>>23343147
It absolutely would. But if the media discover you are in fact a white able-bodied man, then you can guess what your punishment will be. So you might as well get out in front of this approaching shitstorm and start adjusting to your new lifestyle right now. Good luck anon, let me know if you need help with them broken legs, but I draw the line at amputating your dong and rolling you in Vegemite.

Anyone have experience laying out backstory?
I have a sci-fi story where the captain of a space faring civilization is trying to explain his history to an alien whose own race is just got an astronaut into space.

But I don't want to sit the alien(the reader) down and slam them with a wall of text. I'm thinking of dividing it up into smaller pieces and just feeding it to the reader when it becomes relevant, but I'm not sure that would work.

Anyone know a good way to worldbuild without it being exposition?

>>23345214
you belong in /wg/ bitch

>>23346272
I tried getting help in /wg/ and got ignored, and I feel like copying and pasting my response will just make people annoyed

>>23347036
Then you should have taken the hint and fucked off

>>23343390
>>23344387

Good points. Thank you.

It's actually a lesbian story. MC is gaslit by her abusive roommate.

>>23347036
Yeah, copying and pasting it there would be annoying, but so is doing it here. The not-lazy thing to do would be to try writing it first then posting it for critique with your particular concerns as an addendum. If you can't fit it into a reasonably-sized body of text to post then it doesn't have a place here.

>>23345214
From what I know so far of your story, if I have it right, the captain explaining his civ to the alien is only the frame story; your "backstory" is really the story itself, and the alien+captain setting is just the device. Is this right?

The best way to worldbuild is to have your characters experience the world, but in this case it would sense for the captain to be explaining to the alien about human customs, technologies, etc. so a lot of the captain's speech can be thinly disguised exposition to the reader.

>>23347424
>And since you've now perverted my pure /crit/ thread into some abomination of adv and wg, I might as well ask:

Are there any other shortcuts to easy humour beyond 1) grandiloquence like Rape of the Lock, Confederacy of Dunces or >>23341716 where the mc overblows trivialities into world-shaking drama; and 2) massive understatement/casualness towards big things: I particularly love "Mistakes were made" as the response during a Nuremburg trial or similar, the passive voice and minimalising and complete shrugging off of personal responsibility -- "hey, things got weird, let's not play the blame game here" -- and I find it very funny to use irl. "Look, dad, your car was crashed by someone, it's all very regrettable but these things happen all the time."

Beyond these two techniques, can you think of any other easy ways to turn any situation/scene into a comedy? Thanks anons.

>>23347486
Someone gives an example of surprise in writing here >>22978114, where a very casual introduction is given to an element of a scene which the reader will recognize as having great importance. In the example case it was a to-be-enraged father is first noticed and mentioned off-hand, mid-sentence. Surprise (in terms of deviation from expectations) is an important element of comedy.

For your car-dad-crash example, you could set it up pretty much the exact same way as the the pic in the post I quoted. Suppose the parents are away on vacation, kid has the car, takes a joyride and rear-ends someone; he gets out to assess the damage and yell at the guy for brake-checking him, and as he gets to the door he sees his dad at the wheel. Imagine a quick pace to the whole scene and I think the comedic surprise would be obvious.

>>23347573
Thanks for the tip, but is the post deleted now? Or maybe I just can't into archive

>>23348401
Yeah, check the archive. It's from January.

>>23348429
Ah yes I see now, good advice and example. Thanks. I suppose a lot of what makes comedy work, or horror, etc. too, is fucking with the reader's expectation and surprise predictions.

>>23347044
Don't have to be so pointlessly aggressive you oil barrel.
>>23347234
I see, I thought my post was reasonably sized. I guess it wasn't I just don't have much beyond a few ideas since there's one aspect that I'm unsure if I want to go all in on, which is preventing me from writing more of my world since it would effect EVERYTHING.

>>23349372
My point was about making your writing of the story excerpt reasonably sized because I knew you'd complain that it's too long to fit in a post. And therefore it doesn't belong here. You know there's a worldbuilding general, right? Though honestly I don't think that shit belongs on this board.

bumpin

https://www.noteflight.com/scores/view/063dd505024a0aaceff3d062d9618bd920cbec64

So I wrote a national anthem for a fictional country in my setting

I'm having a lot of issue with getting the opening 4 lines to rhyme. The very last line is part of a set of 3, so I'm fine with it not rhyming, but the first four I'm having trouble finding words that rhyme while maintaining the general meaning.

The wording is inspired by the Romanian and Vietnamese anthems, and the music itself is inspired by the Kazakhstan, Romanian, and a fictional anthem someone else made.

Also any critique on the music is welcome too.

File: pexels-abdulvahap-demir-1(...).jpg (1.17 MB, 4000x6000)

1.17 MB JPG

aaanndd no one is posting shit for /crit/ (not you anthem anon, I'll get to your lyrics when better wifi) despite me shilling this thread in wg; guess they rather talk about RR metrics.

In the meantime, instead of spamming my garbage, please write the blurbs for these titles, and feel free to add more. This thread is now fictional synopses

>The Dawn of Nothingness
>Mrs. Kapoor's Finger-lickin' Suicide
>Ugly Dreams

>>23351413
I based this off a Goosebumps back cover
>Ugly Dreams
Anna is 12 year old girl whose parents treat like a baby. Their latest gift? A cute little plush gremlin. They just don't get Anna, and she throws it out. But every night since, her dreams get a little scarier. And the gremlin appears, a little bit uglier. She has to find that plush! Too bad the garbage truck came yesterday

>>23351272
Well done anon, this is very cool. But what genre are you writing? The lyrics' paranoic focus on "fiends" and enemies, without any aggrandising of beautiful lands, proud people, etc. might cast the country as a caricature of villainy e.g. these are the (comical?) bad guys singing along to the Imperial March from Star Wars. Maybe this is intentional?

Also the meter switching between 4 bars for one phrase and 6 bars for the next is discombobulating. Maybe this happens in the Rom and Viet anthems, but here I think you want a strict 4 bar phrasing for most of it. That would mean you push back some phrases to begin on the upbeat of the 4th bar of the last phrase: "Our" on quarter note upbeat of bar 4, then
Land has-been | Sull-ied by-the | Deeeaaaa | aaad etc |

Plus most other instances of the word "our" should be pushed back to the upbeat of the previous bar.

Hope this helps, good luck

>>23353600
I've updated it a bit with some of that phrasing you mentioned, pushing the pickups back into the last parts of the previous phrase.

I also changed some of the lyrics of the first part, making it rhyme.

As for the focus of the lyrics, the idea is that the anthem was written just after a huge percentage of them got wiped out by an invading undead army, and a lot of their land is blighted and crawling with the dead. Thus the anthem is very militant. I would not say they are evil, but they are a morally dubious member of the "good" guys.

I did try to mention the proud people and the return of the shining of the land again though, that is a good point.

https://www.noteflight.com/scores/view/063dd505024a0aaceff3d062d9618bd920cbec64

>>23354281
Nice one, good work. Will the notation feature in your story text? Or just the lyrics in italics somewhere?

>>23354501
No, I'm just mega-autistic completionist about my writing and demand something more than a mere written description be made

for example I bought a graphics tablet and got into drawing just to draw my characters and other stuff in the setting

What do you think?

https://litter.catbox.moe/bfisw9.pdf

>>23354861
Not a big fan of the "level up" video game mechanics in an actual setting.

Personally I find it really grating how he introduces himself or calls himself "a Dark Lord" so often.

Also the setting feels sort of....surreal? You got stuff like classical fairy tale things (woman in shoe, frog prince) mixed with stuff similar to isekai stories (levels, Dark Lord, etc). I don't like that mixture to be honest.

I think there's also a typo on page 12, it says "to their children" twice in a row.

Overall I think your writing is descriptive, but some of the dialogue feels stilted. Kind of like they're just NPCs relaying quest info to a player.

>>23354861
>404
did you delete it or just me?

>>23354713
Sounds good man, whatever helps. I did this with music video versions of my stories until I realised it was a form of procrastinating on actually writing. Not saying you're doing the same, but be aware of the trap. Good luck going forward

>>23354966
I've been thinking of removing the RPG mechanics but it's supposed to somewhat make fun of how stupid stats and leveling up are. I don't plan for the dark lord to have stat boxes, he's just a moron that narrates his journey like a video game.

>>23354993
oh sorry, i forgot to put it under the 3 day length.
https://litter.catbox.moe/epm1p4.pdf

bump

Posting links to long documents feels out of whack for what I remember about /crit/, and kills any hope that some critical mass of people will bother to rate each other. /crit/ seemed to be for flash fiction, poetry, and style development, which all can fit in a post or two. Pages and pages of sff is just /wg/ 2.0. I don't want to follow a link just to read trashy litrpg shite, Batman fanfic, or some metalhead's excuse to publish the word "nigger." And you >>23354281, why not post a screenshot at the very least?

That said
>>23343378 nice
>>23341716 and nice.
Both nice style-wise. Maybe too abstract to stand on their own, so I'd want to see them in a larger context; good in terms of setting the tone and as a form of exposition.

For #2, to deal with the "lurched" issue, you could say "lurched with" to keep the assonance of turned-lurched-worst. I have a problem with "detached completely" because it doesn't really jive with a void or a husk or a shell; the latter two are more like hiding or shielding. Does "hidden completely from [...] reality" make any sense? "locked off completely"? "gone completely"? "swallowed completely by some new murky reality"? The husk/shell bit also feels a bit weird with the "hovering overhead," though detachment makes sense for that, but the problem is that you've got multiple different categories bundled up in those lines that don't all agree with each other in essence, and if detachment is really what you're playing at then you should rework that first line.

For #1, it's "fare" not "fair, "weeps" not "wheeps," and I'd throw an extra comma in for "I shake, I fear, and with anticipation, I feel." The style is good but I wouldn't want it to go on for long, at least not without tamer and more straightforward passages punctuating it.

This is almost done
https://litter.catbox.moe/1t7oqg.pdf
I have another 30 pages or so after the cutoff, probably more once I've finished the ending

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42 KB JPG

>>23356338
>posts 125
>doesn't even crit anyone
insufferable

Post a post-sized excerpt or consider suicide.

>>23356357
*125 pages, fuck sake.

>>23351413
>The Dawn of Nothingness
In a fantasy world, magic power is a non-renewable resource. Sorcerers have finally used so much of it that magic is leaving the world.
That includes souls.
The protagonist wanders from place to place, lamenting the emptiness in people's eyes as they cease to have qualia, and struggling with the question of whether anything will ever have meaning again, or whether it ever did in the first place.
>>23356357
Sorry anon I was working on a reply
Critique noted

>>23356357
Post your own work instead of just talking shit.

>>23356391
I posted crit for two pieces a minute earlier. That's a million times better than dropping a fucking textbook on the thread and walking away.

>>23356391
He technically followed the rules laid out in the OP by criticizing a specific quality of what I posted (ie. the length) and not explicitly instructing me to kill myself, so cut him a little slack
>>23356406
I just figured I'd post something first so people would have more time to read it while I responded to other posts
If that's not cool I can leave

>>23356456
>I just figured I'd post something first so people would have more time to read it
The thread calls for excerpts explicitly, and you posted something of novella length. Even beyond the bounds of the thread, posting an except is going to be immensely more accessible to readers than dropping your entire work on them; take a minute to clip out a part you think is representative of its style (or even just the intro if you're lazy), and you can post the pastebin link at the end for anyone genuinely compelled by your writing. Consider from a practical standpoint that you're fighting for attention here, so 1) hiding your work behind a link and 2) making it way too fucking long is going to make people skip right over it. But even if natural selection prunes you out, this kind of lazyposting is pollution to the thread.

/crit/ has been dead a long time before now, but back when the threads were a regular occurrence they were always mired by the people who would treat it like charity for their writing. It's annoying when people post their writing and offer zero critique in return, but it's comically lame to see people doing the same thing but with fuck-off long pieces. It's either conceit or idiocy. I especially piss on the loser who posted his fucking Amazon link. pss-pss

I don’t get it. What’s this thread doing that Writing General wasn’t?

>>23354861
This is stupid. There's nothing serious going on here and there's far too much exposition.

>>23356790
Focus on mutual critique of style in short pieces or excepts. Not made for discussion of genreshit or publication woes.

>>23356790
The last few /wg/s I looked at were kind of all over the place. Some crit, sure, but also RR metrics, "is this a good story idea?", "is scrivener better than word?", etc. And that's fine; Writing General does what it says on the label. I made this thread specifically for people requesting/supplying feedback. That was the idea, but in practice ...

>>23356338
What this anon >>23356717 said. I said I'd read everyone's and be charitable, etc. but come on man, how many strangers on the internet do you think are going to really engage with something this massive for free and no return feedback? I'll take a look, but I'm not going to read the whole thing, especially seeing you haven't asked for any specific aspect to be judged. I'll specify in the next OP that excerpts/finished pieces should be 500-1500 wds max. That's the kind of length someone can reasonably engage with on all levels and talk holistically about. Otherwise the poster should pinpoint what it is they want critique on: is this dialogue working, is this passage too purple, etc. Openings are probably best, but you could post a middle section that you don't think is quite working if you greentext context and characters to orientate the reader.

But good work on writing 125 pages of anything, anon. I'm proud of you for that without even reading any (yet, tbc).

For anyone/everyone else: I'll add this in next thread OP if there is one, but if you want crit on your work, you have to crit others. For parity, if you want (7) meaningful, encouraging, incisive, well-thought-out, longer-than-a-sentence crits on your work, then you owe (7) meaningful, encouraging, incisive, well-thought-out, longer-than-a-sentence crits on others'. Like pay your debts, ideally in advance, otherwise you only get OP's take.

>>23356717
>>23356883
I'm sorry guys
I didn't realize I was actively fucking everyone over that bad, especially after someone else had already posted a decently lengthy screenplay in this same thread
Way too late to delete my post but I want to say I know I fucked up

>>23355000
>>23354861
Great stuff anon! I've only read "1" but so far
>good: strong voice, nice style, wry, inventive

Were you looking for anything specific? What worries you about it? If you can identify a particular passage/aspect I can zero in better. Sometimes people just need praise and encouragement, and I'm happy to supply it, but as other anons have pointed out, the shorter the excerpt the better if you want proper even-handed criticism.

I would suggest perhaps using parentheses when he's thinking to himself/on a temporary tangent e.g.
>just a simple Dark Lord enjoying my iced tea. (Which, by the way, I hope is still resting on my armchair untouched; if not, I certainly hope
someone remembered to place it on a coaster. I hate having residue rings.)
although this preference might be too personal. Good luck

>>23354861
>>23355000
The punctuation and sentence structure is really fucking with me
The third sentence in the first paragraph is long and unwieldy however you look at it
I thought maybe that was on purpose, but then the second paragraph was full of comma splices and has that dangling parenthetical dash that I see another anon just pointed out so I'd better hurry up and post this

Walking in the courtyard,
Not paying attention to the people....
The birds triumph prematurely that
Spring has arrived.
Not sure what to do with my hands...
Sway them? Keep them stiff? Conceal them?
Conceal the left and
Flaunt the right? Maybe I should
Conceal the right and
Flaunt the left?

No, I must cross my arms to show that I remain reserved.
Keeping the head still, uncaught is one's self.
A hawk catches a sparrow mid-air.
I am met with hostile gazes from above and
Below. I look down to find that my body is oozing
Blood. and Sweat.

One fellow licks his lips while watching my every move
Profusely. His mouth waters uncontrollably at the sight of me
As if his saliva were weaving a silent, primal spell of predation.
I try to blend in with the guard rails beside me...
The predator loses sight of me.

I remember my therapist telling me that I'm prone to overthinking.
Think just enough to get one foot in front of the other.
Much like the sparrow, which considered each flap of its wings with just the right amount of thought?
I decided to give it a shot, and I let my guard down.
A pheromone is released into the air.
However, I cannot decipher its meaning.
The courtyard scurries, and its meaning is finally revealed
To me, by a venomous stinger through my chest.

>>23356900
It's ok bro, don't sweat it. You're not fucking anyone over. I'll be more specific in next thread that shorter bites will get better engagement. I'll still have a look at yours, at least the opening. Unless you have another problem area/aspect you'd rather get feedback on?

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>>23356929
>Unless you have another problem area/aspect you'd rather get feedback on?
The dialogue-heavy scenes might be the biggest mess
There aren't many, because the script is packed to the gills with chases, explosions, and boots to the head
Pic related is one of them
If you're wondering why Riprock is hopping around like that, he lost one shoe in a fight on page 14 and spends the rest of the script trying not to get his sock dirty
Now I'm gonna follow up on >>23356924 with some more detailed complaints and suggestions but it'll take me a little while to write all that out

>>23356950
>still not critiquing anyone else
fag

>>23356926
Very nice anon. I checked out your others on your site, well done on your consistency. Prose poetry isn't really my forte (but then neither is Batfic or isekai/fantasy) so maybe disregard following:

>One fellow
I get that you're mixing modern dialect with traditional, but this feels too self-consciously poetic. Maybe just "man" instead?

>Much like the sparrow ...
Putting all this on one line 'breaks' the column form, perhaps intentionally; maybe the break should start from "I remember my therapist ..." and run ridiculously long across the page, a really unsubtle shift from the structure, all the way to "... just the right amount of thought?", almost like a glitch. Then back into the poem structure for the remainder and surprise ending.
>I decided to give it a shot
The switch to past tense is fine, but then it means she (?) survives the venomous stinger coming up. If you stay in present the whole way through the piece e.g. I decide to give it a shot, then the immediacy and vulnerability of the present remains more intact. Just an idea.

Good work man, keep going

With one stroke of his fifty-pound sword, Gnorts the Barbarian lopped off the head of Nialliv the Wizard. It flew through the air, still sneering, while Gnorts clove two royal guardsmen from vizor through breasplate to steel jockstrap. As he whirled to escape, an arrow glanced off his own chainmail. Then he was gone from the room, into the midnight city. Easily outrunning pursuit, he took a few sentries at the gate by surprise. For a moment, arms and legs hailed around him through showers of blood; then he had opened the gate and was free. A caravan of merchants, waiting to enter at dawn, was camped nearby. Seeing a magnificent stallion tethered, Gnorts released it, twisted the rope into a bridle, and rode it off bareback. After galloping several miles, he encountered a mounted patrol that challenged him. Immediately he plunged into the thick of the cavalrymen, swinging his blade right and left with deadly effect, rearing up his steed to bring its forefeet against one knight who dared to confront him directly. Then it was only to gallop onward. Winter winds lashed his body, attired in nothing more than a bearskin kilt, but he ignored the cold. Sunrise revealed the shore and his waiting longship. He knew the swift-sailing craft could bring him across five hundred leagues of monster-infested ocean in time for him to snatch the maiden princess Elamef away from evil Baron Rehcel while she remained a maiden — not that he intended to leave her in that condition … .

>>23355000
>Cleaning myself inside the nearby river where the townsfolk dumped their excrement was the only option I had.
Sentences like this are easier to understand when nested phrases aren't stuck in the middle of the rest of the sentence structure
In this case you could move it to the end, like so
>The only option I had was cleaning myself in[side] the nearby river where the townsfolk dumped their excrement.
You have much longer sentences than this with much deeper nesting, and a lot more options for giving them this kind of treatment

There are lots of commas that could be semicolons, like so; they'd be right at home with this guy's attitude
There are also many places where an extra comma would help

The fight with the rat is nicely done with those short, clipped sentences, but I don't understand what exactly he's trying to say at the end of that paragraph

I'm nearly through with part 2, and I can't tell if you're getting better at this or if I'm just getting used to the quirks of your writing style
I really like how compactly you describe most of the scenery, getting the imagery across without going on for too long

Next time put crit-for-crit in the OP. You shouldn't be able to post your work without critiquing at least one other post.

>>23357006
There's no tension in this. He wins, he wins, he kills, he wins and kills, he steals and kills, he fucks and kills. It's banal and it's apparent that you're never actually putting Mr. Guts-lite at risk, and his successes in your excerpt never involve any strategy or cunning. Plus too much is happening too fast; I guess you were trying to convey the pace of his escape this way, but instead you blurred all of the potentially exciting bits together into a red slush. You might as well just write a list of a thousand ways to chop somebody up.

Your writing itself is style-wise fine if you're just going to do typical power fantasy slop, but you have to write actually interesting scenarios for it to work. Maybe you're too scared of ruining the fantasy by making him struggle. I dunno. It's boring.

>>23357006
And I just noticed he goes from wearing to chainmail to "nothing more than a bearskin kilt." With that and the snoozefest action sequence I'd bet money you got a computer to write this for you.

>>23357026
>>23356924
wow thank you so much anon. I'll watch my comma splices and make my sentences more clear.

>>23357006
This isn't good at all. It feels all over the place and doesn't have a coherent flow when writing a ction. He lops off some heads, then gets hit with an arrow, but jumps out a window and kills some guards, but he disppears into the night yet, he's found right away and steals a stallion but for some reason other mounted patrols weren't able to catch up to him etc. There needs to be a more logical sequence to the scene.

>Gnorts
>stronG
I get it.
>>23357812
If they are contributing nothing to the thread, that sounds like extremely low quality.

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>>23356323
>why not post a screenshot at the very least?
simpsonsmygoodnesswhydidntIthinkofthat.png

>>23357006
Your starting sentences have too many dependent clauses which breaks flow.
>With one stroke of his fifty-pound sword
>As he whirled to escape
>Easily outrunning pursuit
>For a moment
>A caravan of merchants
>Seeing a magnificent stallion tethered
>After galloping several miles
I don't even think its the winning and constant fighting that is the problem. Compared to all the action, the writing is too choppy. Just replace these with past tense, i.e for the last one
>He advanced several miles, his horse soon after, halting at the blocked track ahead which beared a menacing mounted patrol.

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Alright I'll post some stuff
I've not been on this board in a couple months but I'm gonna have to start writing soon so I may as well join this thread to shake off the rust. Gonna post some things I'm not super attached to for now though

Each day she wore a different flower on her ear; Marigold, lavender, rose- they would always accent her clothes and compliment her perfume, though, they could never distract from her lips, which spoke soft and felt softer and tasted of blueberry and peach. She parted them to eat and to kiss but rarely to talk. Everything she had to say she said with her eyes; They were vibrant and wide and clear as a cloudless sky; She could set you free with a glance and imprison you with a stare. Sunlight would melt into her golden hair as if it could find no better home. It seemed to remain with her, nested between her locks, even after the twilight fell. Even when she let her hair loose to be blown by the wind, like a feild of wheat or rye, the light held to every perfect strand; Just as she refused to let go of my hand or lift her head off my chest. Ants had pilfered our picnic. Songbirds had gone to sleep. The ground was getting colder and harder with each passing minute- Yet, she was every summer night's bonfire. She was the kind of heat that warms you from the inside out. I am Prometheus and she is the flame; Though, I will not share her with the world. Never.

This is a much refined except from a concept I had that I dont have any intention of writing anytime soon. Still, I wanted to practice at the time and went through a few revisions before ending up with this, which would be close, if not, the final state of the except and the standard to which I would hold the work as a whole. The work would be called
>pink wine
With a cover reminicent of nausea but the "in" is shared by the first and fourth letter of each word.
The story follows a guy who dates four women over the course of four years and each one of them helps him in some current unspecified way. The plot twist is that none of them are real. They're all AI and VR constructs he created and they all fall apart towards the end of their years when the program becomes too complex to keep up with what the protagonist is demanding. To keep the surprise, the story will be told out of order so that each relationship is followed at the same time, cycling through them.
>spring year one
>summer year two
>autumn year three
>winter year four
>summer year one
>autumn year two
>etc.
What do you bros think? Does the concept have merit as well as the writing itself? Where could I improve? Also, this girl is summer, if you couldn't tell (if you couldn't tell, I will have failed desu)
(Btw the woman is based aestheticly on my waifu Haley pic rel)

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>>23358346
I said I would post some stuff, so I may as well post the rest of what I have from this concept
This next portion is similarly a description, except of Spring, which is much shorter and I haven't actually edited out of the raw form (and dont think I will)

Freckles dotted her pale nose like flowers on a hillside. Her lips- salmon, her eyes- honey; and when they smiled, framed by her cardinal-plume hair, all the winter in your limbs would melt away and leave you undone. She was spring incarnate; My very own Persephone.

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>>23358352
A hundred shades could dance on the wind and they would still not match her beauty. She wore her colors better than any oak or elm: Auburn- her hair, pinkish white- her skin, her lips a crimson red, and an overcoat of yellow plaid to hide the lesser greys and browns of her blouse. Her true colors, though- the colors you could only see when she let you in close; the colors she keep secret under round rim, tinted glasses; the colors that could petrify as if she were the antithetical Medusa- her eyes were unreal. Her left a deep blue and her right a crisp green, with their cores swapped. A lake in a forest, an island in the ocean, I cannot recall how many times I've drowned- starved in them! They were ethereal. Only she could recall me from Elysium with her smokey, sultry singing. Her fingers, falling slow as the leaves, tap-tip-tapped the table, pantomiming the chords while she hummed along. I never knew the season of death could be so alive.

This is Autumn, obviously. I decided to go the opposite way and intentionally overwrite this one. It's very purple and not as concise as it could be. I actually have a cleaner version saved, which cuts out a few sentances, combines some others, and all around is less pretentious, but I prefer the extra fluff on this one

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>>23358355
And lastly, the season I left unfinished (like all of my work). Winter is very rough around the edges. This is technically a second draft but it was rewritten weeks after the first when I had already mentally moved on from the concept, so I don't think this is up to par with the others, even from a "raw" perspective. Still, this is the closest out of most of them to be considered the initial state of my writing, so I'd be very intrested in hearing critique about this one in particular. This is the ethot Winter is based off btw.

The smoke from her cigar sauntered up toward the streetlamp she leaned up agaisnt, smothering the snowflakes as they settled on her hair. They became stars in a winter night sky, all aglow in amber light that tinted her monochrome attire in a warm and comfortable hue. Black and grey and white: her hair, her eyes, her skin- with each accessory a shade between. The only spot of color were her orange mittons, which she held in her hand while she smoked. "I'm almost finished," she whispered; So fitting that such elegant words should dwell behind a jaw that could find Achilles in a block of marble, "give me a moment." I would have given her a lifetime. Her words hunted me, seduced me, haunted me; Artemis and Aphrodite would kneel before her shadow.

>>23358346
>>23358352
>>23358355
>>23358364
So you're not going to critique anything?

You've posted four sickly decadent clichés. Nothing feels distinct between the separate passages. You just drift through various colours and other frills without defining any character. It's vapid.

>>23358415
When did I say I wasn't going to critique anything?

>>23357006
Please come up with better names than just Strong, Female, and Lecher written backwards. One is fine but 3 is too many.

>>23340727
dropped from the first sentence.
>>23341599
dropped from the first sentence.
>>23341716
dropped from the second sentence. Dude you seriously need to watch for your fucking LEXIQUE DUDE WAKE UP
>>23343231
dude...WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??? DUDE RANDOM DREAMS HAVE MORE PLOT THEN YOUR SHIT
>>23356926
dropped in the first verse. Dude like, WTF. Prose-tards cant write a nice first catch sentence but you did it worse cuz you are writing A FUCKING POEM>
>>23357006
dropped in the first sentence. Dude, go follow your master Howard...
>>23358346
dropped in the first paragrph. Dude, you need the fucking hurry up and go to the POINT

>>23358346
>>23358352
>>23358355
>>23358364

Cringeworthy masturbatory tripe written by a pathetic incel.

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>see mass reply
>dont read
>hide
>mfw

>>23357812
>how to ensure the thread dies immediately: the post

The nigger nogged with swagger.

>>23359338
Yeah, it’s a pretty bunch of responses. Not terribly constructive. Mostly just the asshole showing off what little attention span he has.

>>23359424
Being a zoomer must be hell lmao
Our planet is doomed lol

>>23357006
Great satire and nice tone, but like other anons I think it might run too quick. If you were to expand this throwaway into an actual plot beyond pure power/action, I'm sure you'd find more to mine.

>>23358346
>the program becomes too complex
Have you written any of these sections? Like other anons are pointing out, the long-winded intros describing what the four season girls look like, etc. can get a bit tiresome quickly. Unless the narrator is meant to be like this on purpose, you as author risk repelling your readers by riffing too long and indulgently. Maybe better to break up all the colourful description and transplant some to when he is designing them, or better when he first talks to them/trains them. Better for the reader to just see/experience them along with the narrator rather than listen to him wax poetic about them. Have you seen Ex Machina? Her intro works because it hasn't been spoilered.

Good luck anons, keep writing

>>23360251
No those are the only things I've written down beyond what's in my head
The narrator is supposed to be a pretentious jackass. There wouldn't be a section of him "designing" them because that would give away the twist. The full story would be tons of dialog and actions. These descriptions are basically the full extent of descriptions which happen towards the beginning of each relationship when they start "dating" (after the intial meeting) and they don't come immediately after eachother. In context they would be far enough away to avoid being tiresome. The narrator IS self indulgent and decadent which becomes clear once the twist is revealed in the late part of the story. The personality of the narrator dicates the tone in this work
Thanks for an honest and useful reply

>>23345214
Look into gene wolfe's writing
There's tons of world building, but it all happens through the characters and only when necessary to explain what's happeing to them currently. For example, in the book we learn of some type of bat monster things that are darker than black and kill stuff and whatever, but we're not told about these things until they actually are a threat and attack the main character. That's not to say you shouldn't foreshadow things, but my point is that there if there is no reason to explain something to the characters or readers beyond "i just want them to know this part" then it's probably better off being left unsaid

>>23341716
The final line being a simple quote does wonders for the impact this has
Good job anon

>>23347044
You are the worst poster in this thread and you should stop leave this website immediately
You are poison to growth and I can tell that you dont have any meaningful relationships in your real "life"

>>23351413
>the dawn of nothingness
Story told from the perspective of a guy who tried to kill himself and ended up instead in a world where everyone else is a dead and he is alone and alive

>>23356790
It's a place where unknowning anons can post exerpts and have one or two retards shit out their useless opinions to try and discourage them.
What I've learned after posting in the past in threads like these is that people who critique others generally have no idea what they're talking about and are overly critical/not helpful to cover up their own inadequacies.
There were some anons who were genuinely helpful to others, in this thread, but as a concept it's overall a net loss for someone to post here

>>23360445
Pretty much everything until >>23358766 was reasonable. That's nearly a hundred posts for you not to be buttmad over.

>>23360376
Writing a character who's supposed to be annoying ("self-indulgent") can be a trap if you use it to excuse your writing being that way; there are other ways to present those sorts of qualities without having to drag the whole passage into it. If you consider someone like Humbert in Lolita, who fits the archetype of being so far up his ass he can't see how ugly he is, he's still written in a way that's eloquent and certainly not tiresome; the point is the contrast between the reality of the story and his perception of it.

The other way to do it is to insulate the annoying qualities of your character with other events, so they take up less space (but then you're still risking writing an insufferable character). You say that's not all there is to your story, but you can't complain about the critique you've been given if you haven't actually gone and written it. You're willing to admit that what you've posted is exactly what you've been criticized of, but your defense is that you haven't written the good parts yet. Poor excuse. And I think those passages should be written far better if they're meant to be so important to your portrayal of this guy.

>>23360492
I'm not complaining about the crit I've been given, cause I've only been given yours, which I already said was fair and I've thanked you for

>>23360522
I was >>23358415, you dip.

>>23360376
Ah I see, okay that makes more sense. No worries anon, keep going with the dialogues/courtships

>>23360541
*I'm OP, I'M Spartacus, I'm critting everybody

>>23360529
Ah okay, I was thanking
>>23360251
For the critique
I honestly wasn't thanking your recent post because I thought it was pointless but wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt
Let me go back and show you why I didnt (You) you before
>sickly decadent cliche
Nothing wrong with using cliches if theyre effective. Also where are the cliches youre talking about?
>nothing feels disticnt
So my writing is cohesive and has a voice that can be heard, thanks I guess
>you drift through colors and frills
The colors and "frills" were specifically chosen to not only describe the looks of each construct but also their personalities as well as characterize the narrator
>it's vapid
Opinion (wrong)
Notice how your "critique" is indistinguishable from the later one that called me an incel (which is unironically more helpful than anything you wrote)
At my gut reaction was to say that you were filtered and I'm glad to see that after analyzing your critique and other post it turns out I was right lol
No need to reply to me further, I wont listen to anything you say because I'm better than you already lmao

>>23360541
>>23360547
Let me clear up that while in my head the narrator is pretentious, the plot focuses on these girls "fixing him" in various ways. Spring helps him get in shape, summer helps him through depression/trauma, fall helps him correct his irritable personality, etc. None of that is set in stone but my goal is that the reader goes from disliking to liking and to eventually pitying the narrator when it's revealed that all of this was fake. The metanarrative lesson is that women and especially fake escapism can't fix you. The narrator ends up in a worse place then he started off after 5 years of virtual dating. Lmao, actually the (You) I got calling me an incel is exactly the feedback I needed to know the work is on the right track because the narrator IS an incel
Anyways, thanks again for your critique, OP. Decent thread

>>23360567
No prob, 4seasanon. Maybe you wanted the element of surprise e.g. just posting the pretentious jackass' reveries and seeing the base response, but you could avoid anons "misreading" your stuff as frilly, etc. with a bit more context. Like just prefacing it with "this following narrator is a bit of a blowhard intentionally", so everyone is on the same page and you can get better feedback, rather than minor acrimony with people not understanding the deeper character voice.
Anyway, just an idea. Go with Dog, my sun, good luck

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>>23360550
Holy shit man.
>Nothing wrong with using cliches if theyre effective
They are not effective. Posting four straight paragraphs of clichés is bad; "summer night's bonfire," "hair loose to be blown by the wind," "her eyes- honey," "spring incarnate," "her true colors," (para.) drowned in her eyes, "smoke from her cigar sauntered," "I would have given her a lifetime." All of it, man. Not effective, just annoying. They tire our after the first line and after that it all becomes a meaningless bore.
>So my writing is cohesive and has a voice that can be heard
No, it's awkward and, like I said, entirely clichéd. It reads like a high schooler's bad love letter. That is not a cohesive voice, that's just a bundle of tropes. Look up the definition of the word "distinct"; to be distinct would be a compliment, and your writing is not.
>their personalities as well as characterize the narrator
But it doesn't, was my point. They don't do any defining at all. They're all just (let me repeat it) clichés that could be applied to any object of affection at the right time.
>>vapid
>Opinion (wrong)
You managed to write four paragraphs without saying a single unique or moving thing. It's vapid by definition.

Please god let this just be bait that I'm replying to.

>>23360641
You keep using that word as if it's kryptonite
All of this is your opinion
Others in other threads have said they liked it? Are they right or are you? Neither. No one is because it's not about right or wrong, it's about opinion, which yours is
The same lines that you say are not effective other anons have said were impactful
That quite simply means that you got filtered lol

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>>23360641
Dont worry anon
I'm sure somebody will take your hostility to heart and stop writing because of you, as is your goal since you cant hack it as a writer
It won't be me tho

>>23360550
>>23360641
Gentleanons, gentleanons, please.
This is a good reminder for me to put another note in the next OP:
>min critiques of critiques, and no critiques of critiques of critiques, lest we get lost in the funhouse mirrors. I've been to irl workshops where you had to stay mute for an hour and listen to nine other writers and the prof interpret your stuff. These threads don't need to be quite that one-sided, but a post/excerpt should basically contain your evidence and closing argument. It's hard to sway a jury after the verdict.

>>23360641
based

>>23361452
On what?

>>23341716
Well done description BUT TOO MUCH.

Your description crosses the threshold into Purple Prose in my view. If you slightly decrease the verbosity especially regarding the frying eggs it'll be really great.

>>23357006
Too descriptive but not as clear as it can be to picture. Also aimless. Narrow your focus, make the description easier to read with clarity and build tension.

He watched as five of the village’s men, all of fighting age, were marched up to him and forced to kneel. Fighting age, scoffed Eric to himself, They’re closer to scarecrows than farmhands. Two of the scrawny men wept like babes. The others were admirably stoic.

They were soon joined by Kant’s witch of a wife and golden daughter. Each woman was resigned to her fate. They should be grateful, thought Wolfgang coldly, All they will suffer is death.
Three more women were brought forth, two young, one old, all teary-eyed. He gazed into their eyes one by one. Blue, hazel, amber, each pair distinct in shape and color. Eric blinked them away and when his eyes opened again their features blurred together into nothingness. Who can tell the sheep apart?

Happy flames had begun to dance on the rooftops as mounted dragoons flung torches high. They tumbled head over heels as they arced gracefully through the air. And now it ends. Wolfgang flung his cigarillo away and rose.
“Leave the gaol standing,” he commanded in a sonorous tone and motioned for four dragoons to join him on the firing line. He put one round each through the three stoic men and then the wife and daughter as well. They deserved as much. Fire danced in their tears as his bullets struck true. My word is counterfeit, thought Eric. Sorrow gnawed at the hollow of his guts.

“Finish the rest,” he ordered as he reloaded his revolver, “We ride for Heimdaug.”

One by one five shots rang out. Doom had come to Tresgault.

>>23363538
Good work anon. Nice restraint, and the sparse description is pretty tight.

But if Eric is the mc (?) I'm not sure we should be able to know Wolfgang's thoughts too. There are a few instances of confusion between Eric and Wolfgang caused by a vague "he": "He gazed into their eyes one by one": I thought we were still in Wolfgang's head, but 2nd next sentence we're with Eric again, so POV becomes unclear as we're digesting. Similarly "Finish the rest," he ordered: this is probably Wolfgang, the leader, but the previous sentence was Eric's sorrow in his guts, so you force the reader to correct their flow -- oh this "he" must be Wolfgang, not Eric. Easy fix with more specific pronouns and keeping an eye out for where the reader could get sidetracked.

Also a reordering of events might be more effective, something like
>And now it ends. Doom had come to Tresgault. Mounted dragoons flung torches high, arcing gracefully through the air, tumbling head over heels to land on rooftops and burst into happy flame. Eric watched as five of the village's men ...
and then the executions, etc. and exit. This way the backdrop of the scene is already on fire; the reader can see the peripheral ruin while the action plays out.

Good luck, keep going.

Nobody critiqued any of what I posted, but I noticed a few embarrassing mistakes and corrected them
You have functioned as acceptable rubber ducks

>>23363742
Did you put it behind a link? Post an excerpt.

>>23363742
Sorry, which did you post? I'm trying to crit everyone

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>>23363746
>>23363788
These posts were all me

>>23357026
>>23356924
>>23356950
>>23356900
>>23356338

The link is going to expire any minute so here's an updated version with the entire ending, except for a graphic sex scene that should start on page 125
https://litter.catbox.moe/tu6jed.pdf

The excerpt I posted above was pages 41 to 44
Here are my edits to that scene
>mentioned Gordo and Clover before they start talking, for continuity reasons
>changed one of Berenstein's weaker lines so he's wasting less time in the scene
>rephrased some of the action a little bit
I made hundreds of other changes to other parts that I won't even mention

Pic related is the first page of a sequel
I have brain worms
It's literally one page, so if someone still wants to critique my outrageous horseshit, start here

Also I don't think I mentioned this before but I essentially wrote that whole thing on a dare

>>23363914
Great action, nice chaotic intro to some comic fun. Fwiw I really liked the dialogues in 41-44 of the other one, the absurdist quips and 'inspiring' speeches. I hope you didn't lose too much in your tweaks.
Great stuff anon, keep going

>>23363682
It's the same person. This is from the end of the chapter.

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>>23340717
Finished a short-ish story about hospitals and vampires. A little worried this style of writing is overly sappy/sentimental. The inconsistent formatting serves a narrative purpose, but hopefully it's not vomit-inducing.
Thoughts? A quick skim would be much appreciated.
https://pastebin.com/BYCU0prC

>>23360676
Nah, your writing just sucks

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How's this for an synopsis/teaser to my fantasy story?

He did not need to see the clock to hear its tick.

Seated in the reception of the probation office, John Smith waited patiently for the appointment with his officer.
It was the first of many such visits he was expected to make as a condition of his early release from prison, or so he had been told.
His fingers, with their chewed nails, tapped on the seat's plastic armrests.
The waiting area was much like any other except for an unusual odour.
"Mould" the receptionist had explained to him upon checking in, but looking around he could not see any.
He glanced occassionally between the receptionist, whose face was a mixture of concentration and bordem, and the collection of gossip magazines on the coffee table before him. After a couple of minutes a wooden door with a fresnel window pane opened.
"John Smith" a woman's voice cried from within.

He had not expected a woman.

>>23366067
boring

>>23366053
Interesting. The subterfuge bit and the details of the goblin quest can be cut.

>>23366165
>boring
If anybody wants to read something boring, here's a small chapter:

https://files.catbox.moe/vsxekh.txt

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>>23358346
>>23363538
>>23365307
>>23366053
>>23366067
crit something you leeches

>>23366442
post your own work you fag

>>23366455
Nigger you realize adding another piece to the pile would make it worse, right? Literally the exact thing I shouldn't do given the point I'm making. It's not like I'm calling your shit bad, I'm saying you're inundating the thread by not critiquing anyone.

>>23366478
I'll critique others as soon as you post your work

>>23366489
No. What is the point you're trying to make? Do you not actually understand that if you don't critique other people you end up with an endless backlog of pieces that nobody discusses or ever critiques, all drowning each other out as people continue, incessantly, to pile on without ever glancing at the rest of the posts in the thread?

But I get it. You want an opportunity to say "haha you suck," as if that's some sick comeback, as if I ever said I'm better than you and now you need to a chance to level the field and feel like a Big Guy. But you can be a smug faggot all on your own without me posting a thing, pal. Just keep up the antics and consider posting a critique when you get a spare minute, pal.

>>23366442
I'm not a good writer, so my opinion on your work is worth as much as a stray pube on the walls of a gas station bathroom

>>23366566
It can still be worthwhile for someone to hear something as much as "I do/don't like this," and being able to articulate the reasons why is something you can work on as a skill that'll probably come around to improve your own writing (even if in some respects I think the skills are somewhat orthogonal). Even the guy who just said
>boring
said something that had significance for the piece.

Trying to honestly critique styles of writing that you don't like (supposing for entirely subjective reasons) is hard, but if enough people crit then you don't have to worry so much about saying something about every single piece of writing in the thread. Even just going through and mentioning the ones you like or particularly don't like could be useful and helps balance things out at the very least.

>>23363983
Also I am autistic. And gay.

>>23366537
>he doesn't write

>>23366615
Fuck you, nigger!

>>23341099
youre asking people to pay to critique your shit. on a board where everyone asks for free

I don't mean to intrude on this thread—I am truly sorry if that's the case—but I really want to learn how to write beautiful, fancy prose à la Faulkner. Is there any way to learn to write long, Faulknerian-style sentences?

>>23366875
thats nothing. writing a compelling story is harder

>>23366615
Alright, I wrote something for you. An off the cuff four-parter which you can have your way with after. I haven't gone back to revise, so feel free to be rough with me. Repetition of 'I', 'he', etc., some mixed up tense, a lack of a plan.

Anyway maybe I'm safe because I can always claim "oh I didn't try very hard whatever." Maybe it's a good deal for me.

>>23366886
Writing a compelling story is a different thing.

>>23366875
Not a bad place to ask. I think it's worthwhile to sit and read your author of interest and then when you feel inspired by it to stop and write. I felt this a lot during the last book I read (and again with the current one, and going back further), and I could see how much it impacted my writing. In my case I let whatever I was reading come in through the style, even if not deliberately. Trying to sit down and get it across after the fact could be a little mechanical, though it's still worth it to pay close attention to how everything is written, but the sort of messing around with the feeling and style is what I like to do.

I spoke to a musician a while ago who told me he started out simply replicating a guitarist he liked, learning guitar via trying to capture that guy's sound (which was quite distinct). I admire this guy, and he makes really unique music now, so the tactic of (soft) replication and riffing seems to work. Obviously this guy released a lot of music before it really became unique and he hit his stride, but that's how it happens.

So yeah, pick up a book by Faulker and just start trying to write with that same feeling and pattern when you feel it.

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>>23366964
I'm fucking his hole. It's tight but it fits perfectly because I made it for me.

What I did was I waited. Though I didn't have a plan I knew where to find the spare key and when he was gone I got in. I got in and I went to his room and I sat in the dark and I waited, curled up on the floor, hands around my knees waiting behind his bedroom door. I didn't know what I'd do when he came in, eventually, when he'd find me. What I felt was a need to have him somehow, this big abominable need to make him mine or to make him a part of me or to control him somehow. It wasn't about sex or death or consumption. I couldn't figure it out but it was on my mind as I sat on the floor, and all I could do then was hug my knees harder and press my eyes shut over the already black view of the room and imagine I had him already, like he was my knees in my arms or like he was in my veins or under my skin just entirely mine. I shook with the strain, strained so hard that my head pounded and I was sweating all over.

When I heard a door my eyes opened on their own, very wide back into the black room again. Everything felt sharp, like I was sitting on needles holding needles looking at needles tasting smelling feeling needles, hearing needles as I listened for his feet. Which didn't come. Instead I heard a duller sound, another door, which this time I could tell was in the apartment beside, followed by the smothered sound of a phone conversation. Then I could feel myself again, sliding back down the sides of the needly peak I'd been on, recognizing how wet and sore and hot I was exerting all my force into a point. I could think again.

I took off all my clothes. I folded them and slid them under his bed, far back enough that he wouldn't see them at a glance, wouldn't see them and wonder. I could see through the dark of the room now. I could make out his unmade bed and the dust on the floor, a pile of clothes and his desk--a little desk, cluttered and dusty too. Now that I could think I thought of how everything here was waiting for him too, like me. How his shoes or his bed were waiting for him to slip in, his pencils and pens waiting for his hand, the room waiting for him to enter. The room holding me waiting too.

I thought about what it meant to have something, whether when I hold something in my hand does it have me too. I tried to imagine all the inverses: his sheets swallowing him, his clothes trapping his limbs, how whatever he wrote was plucked from his body, stolen by the implements. It made me imagine what it meant for me to have him, what would be different or special or unique about it. I felt the way that I needed him couldn't be like anything else--the way nothing is like anything else. So I figured something must happen. Between me and him there would be an event which would bring us together, into something new, something neither one of us had ever been but would always be thereafter. I knew what I needed was permanent.

1/4

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>>23366970
On his desk was a folding utility blade, nested with a screwdriver and a file and some other little bits I didn't know the purpose of. I checked the blade and it was dull, leaving a ragged half-inch cut in my palm, licking away the blood then forgetting it. I put the tool down where I'd been sitting and looked elsewhere.

Ear plugs on his desk. Crumpled pants on the floor. And beside his bed a flashlight. It weighed down my limb when I picked it up by the long black stem. I could feel the ridges of it along my fingers. It was smooth metal, segmented down the haft, which I held up in front of me and slid my finger down. When I let me arm hang limp with it it was like I could tip over. In the dark, looking down at it suspended from my limb, it was as if it was a part of me. I thought of how it was his and now was becoming a part of me, how I was beginning to enter into him.

For a few hours I stood with my back up tight to his wall behind his door so that when he came in it wouldn't hit me straight away. I closed my eyes, not tight like before, and stood almost on tip-toes with my back flush and my heavy right arm sunk beside me. I breathed in time to my heart, which was slow and regular and deep. I breathed very quietly, so much so that my heart must have pounded over it. I became a part of the room, waiting.

All that time I didn't think. But I remember feeling like it was all coming together, how my special unique way of being with him was taking form and I was ready for it. I was like the sheets on the bed and the shoes and all of it. I could wait for him forever and it would feel like nothing. What would make him mine and make me his already existed, and was simply waiting. Quietly, stilly, waiting. Like an object on a shelf: waiting.


When I heard his front door I knew it was him this time. I could hear it close outside the room, and hear bags like groceries and his feet across the floor. A fridge, the bags again, shuffling feet. Sometimes I could hear him breathe, or sigh. I could count his steps while I stayed totally still, adding them up precisely as I could feel him on the other side of the door, the subtle thud through the floor as well now reaching my feet, pulsing up through me. Twice he passed just on the other side. I thought of how the distance was shrinking, how his trajectory was pulling him to me. I thought of my gravity and his, how without feeling it we were being drawn together all our lives, drawn together like nothing else. But now he was so close, and on every turn closer.

2/4

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>>23366974
A door to another room and the sound of a shower. The sound of clothes dropped to the floor, a fan running, then the irregular sound of water on his body being washed. I thought of his skin and how wet it would be, water running down with soap, while mine was so dry with only the salt left of my sweat before. I let my mouth droop, and let the spit pool up until it drained down over my chin, twin streams from either furrow of my lips collected again at the tip of my chin and drip-streaming down my chest, past my navel to the left, and getting caught in my pubic hair soaking up at the base of my cock. Then, at the threshold finally sliding down my penis very soft down the tip then--drip. More still streaming in bouts from my mouth, tracing the same line gently from my lips to my tip then--drip--to the floor. I let my bladder go then and I felt like my sound was merging with his sound, and felt my legs and my feet getting wet like his legs and feet were, my chest and my cock wet with a single stream I imagined was the final flow of all the water off of him, down from his body into one line tracing down me. When I heard his shower stop I thought of the water evaporating off his skin and felt all the fluids doing the same off of me. Our skins were becoming one already, he already had me.

Now I hear his feet again, this time skin to the floor with no socks, this time in a line to the bedroom door. This time the last leg of his trajectory to me.

The door doesn't hit me like I thought it would. As he closes it he sees me and jumps, almost stumbles but doesn't make a sound. My arm is already high as he scrambles to nowhere, then connects with him through his skull. He falls. He's one the floor and one of his hands is at his temple were I hit him but I think it's a reflex, because otherwise he doesn't move much. His mouth is agape, and I see a trickle of blood that makes its way to his lips and then--drip--to the floor. When he stirs he's still silent, his Adam's apple glugging to nothing in his throat. It's when he manages to roll to the side that his eyes look up at me. There are suddenly two sharp lines--needles again--that connect me to him in that instant. Which is not enough. His throat glugs as I get on my knees beside him, as he stirs on the floor, the one eye swollen but still looking. I raise my arm again and bring it down in the middle of his face. He's still breathing but he's limp. I lift his arm and it drops. I put my palm over his face and I feel the suck of lungs through all the busted holes, see little bubbles in the blood.

He was wearing a bath robe. I untie it, let him slip out, get if off of his arms, so it lies like a blanket under him. In the dark I see a red spot growing on it. Then I put myself against him, trying to feel his whole length, trying to place as much of me with him as I can. I let my mouth drool against his face with my tongue in his blood. [...]

3/4

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>>23366981
[...] I see if my face fits into his, to see if the cavity I've made by chance suits me. It does not. Still too far apart. With all my limbs, my whole body, as much of me as I can, I'm still not all the way. I know what we'll become is still a little further yet.

I get up. I flick on the light. I look down and see where I've smeared myself across him. A pang in my hand reminds me of my cut, and so I see my own blood streaked in spots too, and see where it ran up to meet his. His throat--glugs. I see his little cock in its nest, then I put my hand on my own, and squeeze the cut in my palm around my limp bit, remembering the folding knife. My cock swells with a line of blood across it, and with the knife I kneel down again.

It starts as a little red x on his side, just in the skin, between the hips and the ribs. I poke it with my finger to see how it feels, to see if I can peel it like wallpaper. With my cock in my hand I hold up the tip to measure, to compare. With the knife again, and with a little push, it goes through, and bleeds down his side and collects at the nest in his thighs. Deeper, so my finger tips disappear in it, until something of a pop gives way, so I can fit my fingers in as deep as my knuckles. So I try it with my cock and it fits. With my legs around him, hugging my chest to his shoulder, and my face up in the puddle of blood that is his face, I ease myself into him and feel what it is like to have, what it's like to be uniquely with and a part of.

4/4

Went a lot longer than I expected. Whoops.

>>23366970
>>23366974
>>23366981
>>23366988
Not that other nona, but wow, that's vividly and intimately terrifying. Nightmare material.

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>>23366988
>>23366981
>>23366974
>>23366970

Very repetitive work in general.

Try to cut out or reword parts where you repeat the same or similar words. Example:
> Everything felt sharp, like I was sitting on needles holding needles looking at needles tasting smelling feeling needles, hearing needles as I listened for his feet.

Also consider removing areas where similar sentiments are repeated within three paragraphs. Example:
> I became a part of the room, waiting.
> Like an object on a shelf: waiting.

I would omit the first lines. "I'm fucking his hole. It's tight but it fits perfectly because I made it for me." is too spoiler filled. It nerfs the horror when you know what's coming.

I'm slightly disappointed in the gore as well. TL;DR: do your research before you write. Otherwise you come across as an edgy teenager to anyone who knows anatomy very well. A few errors I noted (there are more):

> In general muscles are not that easy to push into, especially if they are in shape. They will try to shut and give massive resistance.
> The pelvis area is fairly shallow with a high risk of hitting bone if your angle is wrong. This won't feel good for anyone.
> The bladder may also be punctured. This is a muscle group. So are the intestines.
> Blood is sticky, not slick. It literally turns into glue as it dries. A condom and something oil based as lube should be in use to prevent the penis from being stuck to the flesh. It also prevents the urethra from being sealed shut by blood.

>>23367305
Thanks for the details.

>repetition
Fair. I won't pretend I did enough in the way of being deliberate with the writing, but the idea was about the circling focus or anxiety of obsession, and that latching onto things as they come in. I can see the problem in a simple "repetition=boring" way, but what would you have done instead to work with the idea I mentioned? In my personal experience with nuts, they have their thinking defined by tangents or fixation (although that's not a good excuse for me to write badly).

>anatomy
Again, fast and loose here, but I don't think the part of the torso "between the hips and the ribs" should give much problem in the way of cock-slamming a bone. Maybe I wasn't clear enough, but I meant through the very side in that spot, through the oblique and angled into the mid-torso.
>cutting muscle
Yeah. The "push" was meant to be going through skin and fat, then the "pop" was meant to be the dull knife finally having enough force to plunge through and doing it suddenly, through what I was imagining to be the lining of the insides, which I suppose is muscle or sinew. Probing at a big unflexed piece of muscle with a notably dull knife is going to be unlike stabbing through a block, but I was imagining it as requiring the pushing until it simply gives way, more poking through after much force. Anyway, worth it for me to think about.
>sticky not slick
By the end I was imagining that he was only inserting himself and lying there, and even coming back to this I thought I'd only written the first line to say "I'm inside his hole" or something. So I fucked up.

That first line was the locus of the whole thing that I ran from, and I didn't plan it out, so if I were to edit I'd simply change that line (or totally remove it as you suggest) and make the lack of humping clearer. Your point about removing it is apt, though for things I push out in one go I tend not to like making any edits that are too grand (in part because I have no future plans for the writing anyway). And in one small defense of the opening line: I wanted it to be something I could call back to, like with the first mention of the knife and such. I still think you're right that it'd be better without, but there was at least some conscious thought on my part about having it there.

>other anatomy problems
I'm assuming this is about the blows to the head? I knew while writing it that it was a big underestimate of what it would take to incapacitate someone, even if I assumed my chosen pervert struck lucky blows or was secretly jacked. In part I also imagined this as a condensed version of what happened, though an unreliable narrator shtick for that was more or less an excuse to not focus so much on the challenge of realistic grappling and noise and such.
I'd be glad if you pointed out the other anatomy errors to me if that wasn't it (the spit?). Regardless I suppose it's a lesson in paying better mind to details that can end up being points of friction.

>>23367431
And because I ran out of space; to you:
>>23366875
back on the idea of aping styles:
I've been reading a book the last few days that started out with relatively simple diction and very staccato sentences (no em dashes or semicolons, not even many commas, lots of full stops, shorter sentences) and that was on my mind during this even if I ran on a lot more than the book does. Lucky me the narrator from the book is also a nut.

Anyway, point I'm making is to look for the features of the writing and ask yourself what you want to do with them (if that flimsy "inspiration" I mentioned before doesn't will you enough on its own). I won't consider what I wrote above a success per se, but take it as an example of an exercise.

(I'll note that the style of the book I'm reading now is a big jump from what I was reading last, so throwing in stylistic variety to what you read might also help you to see what the defining/unique features are.)

>>23366970
>>23366974
>>23366981
>>23366988
You sound like a serial killer in the making. Seek help.

A poem I've been working on. Love any feedback!

Achillies Finish Line

We never knew, but now do,
of a compact core coated
in molten memory
that, upon death, the brain triggers:

from birth ‘til now
every sight
every smell
every touch
is captured and collected;
never opened; then,
in the smallest imaginable moment,
the box breaks
unleashing our climatic defense

my mind; your mind;
traps itself in a loop
playing the stored film
while we lay dying

but that films length is life
and rebirths every
five
point
three
nine
one
two
four
seven
times ten raised to negative forty-four
seconds

the dying are stuck in years in second fragments
againandagainandagainandagain.

I’m frightened to think
just how many times
I’ve discovered this

>>23367431
>>23366970

it's too drawn out and too much detail. you are doing exposition in the wrong place. if this was a story, all this obsession stuff has to come much earlier and you build up to it through a STORY, and the by the time you get to this SCENE, you get to the point.

i fell asleep after the first few paragraphs

>>23368629
Any suggestions for what specifically to cut? I imagine cutting the first line and then trimming out the parts while he's still curled up would accomplish a lot of that since everything up until the other guy gets home is somewhat superfluous or at least doesn't have to happen all on its own.
>if this was a story
This isn't part of something longer, if that's what you mean. I intended for this to be standalone.

>>23368565
I like it, both in idea and flow. But I feel like it loses itself in the last stanza, like it's terminating early or the wrong way, though I like the idea of it. Maybe insert a stanza before it? Someone who reads more poetry will probably take up more issue than me, or at least articulate it better.
>climatic
You mean climactic? A punctuation error "that films" --> "that film's". I'm also skeptical of how you used semi-colons in "my mind; your mind;" but I'm not sure how I'd change it to preserve the flow there. I'd also throw a comma in at "in years, in second fragments" since it feels unwieldy otherwise.

>>23368709
Ah you're right on climactic. I need to be detail oriented in the future. Got distracted by the structure and missed an easy grammar error.

>>23368709
>standalone

a standalone what?

>>23368709
>Any suggestions for what specifically to cut?

delete it all. you have nothing here. you have the part that always ends up being deleted in a second draft.

who are you reading? what are your models? if you want to know how to write a creepy story, there should be no shortage of examples to look at. for example, joyce carol oates is always writing this creepy kind of stuff and even roald dahl i think has some good ones. or you could evne go all the way back to edgar allen poe.

or try ripley (the incredible mr. ripley), which is a much better model for the kind of tension that you are ignoring. the real tension in your "story" (what should have been the story) is the fact that you are dealing with a grown male obsessed with another grown male. that's where your real story and tension and possibility of conflict lies. instead you have skipped to the gore section, which never takes up more than a few paragraphs in an actual story, IF IT'S EVEN INCLUDED. if the story is properly told, all of the gore/killing can simply be left implied (again look at Joyce Carol Oates for examples).

in the past and still, publishers will not even go near this kind of stuff. it's considered obscene or pornographic.

>>23369517
>a standalone what?
Piece of writing? I meant it's not connected to any larger piece of writing. And similarly
>publishers will not even go near this kind of stuff
this was written on a whim to appease (re: antagonize) the pyw anon, so I've got no intention of getting something like this published. This will die on my harddrive most likely.

>who are you reading? what are your models?
Not much horror, which shows. I had Frisk by Dennis Cooper on my mind, mostly as a template for obscene homosexual violence (so yeah, you're right to accuse me of it, but admittedly that was the point); it doesn't really tackle suspense or tension in the short term (it's mostly in whether certain events really occurred or not in the novel). I was incidentally reading Swallowed by Rejean Ducharme, which I pulled from a bit thematically (tenuously) in terms of ideas of personal relations (the whole "his"/"having" object thing).

Was also influenced somewhat by an obsessive/stalker schizoposter from here, but less in motive/intent and more in trying to catch the feeling of those types of thoughts. I met someone who wrote a short piece of fiction that captured that kind of frenetic thinking, so seeing if I could tap into that at all was on my mind.

>[the homo stuff is] where your real story and tension and possibility of conflict lies
Is it? It being two men was incidental to me. I'd wanted the tension do more with the idea of the hidden stalker and a looming threat, a very nearby and unknown terror (admittedly cliché) without an obvious, sensible, or preempted motive. I can see your point about how a longer story would need to deal with the "why" of the whole situation, but I'm not sure if you're insisting on that because you think this is a chapter of something larger. I want to hear more about what you propose about the "real story and tension," though I think it's at least somewhat at odds with what I intended to do with this (besides whether or not I did it successfully).

I can accept that what I wrote failed, but I think you're coming from an angle different from what I was trying at (i.e. "this doesn't work in a larger published work"); I should have made what I was trying clearer.

>all of the gore/killing can simply be left implied
Gotcha. I can see how I could have shrunk the description of the violence and probably given it more impact that way (and saved me from the anatomy errors).

>Oates, Dahl, Poe
Noted.

It wasn't thinking of it at the time, and I haven't read it in a long time, but I thought of the Tell-Tale Heart and the eye as an opaque point of obsession while responding; the tension there is mostly in being found out and maybe in trying to hold on to sanity, but I think that does some of what I was hoping for in terms of having an opaque and obsessive form of insanity that the afflicted feels is self-consistent (this doubles the point that the violence didn't have to take up so much space in what I wrote).

>>23369610
>stealing from trips
Pathetic. But I read this last night and thought it was cool. I liked it but don't have much more than that to say. The character seems interesting and it feels like a decent set-up for something, but in itself goes nowhere and obviously needs the Mr. N-Bomber to edit on his own more.

>>23369603
What is wrong with you? How could you even manage to conceive of something this disturbing and sick? How can you actually think this way?

>>23369633
Thanks bro.

So, there was this girl. My mom was friends with her mom. Neither of our dads were in the picture. She had an older brother that I looked up to. He was about 6 years older than me. She was 4 years younger than him. We were all equally broke, but they somehow had a sega. I was about 8 at the time and we'd play mortal combat, make fun of bad tv shows, and his sister would hang out. Occasionally, he'd make fun of her for something she said, and I thought it was hilarious, but we were all very close and I appreciated having them all around. 3 years later, her mom had a falling out with her boyfriend. They came and lived with us for about six months.

It was awsome. It was like having an older brother and sister. There wasn't much to do in the small town I grew up in. Maybe only 150 people lived there. There was a bar that was open two days a week and catered to neighbouring communities and cottagers in the summer, but not much for kids to do. We spent pretty much all our time at home, which wasn't much different for me. Our parents were musicians. They'd be out playing gigs all weekend, so we'd have at least 3 days a week unsupervised. Our house was bigger than their old apartment, but still only had two bedrooms. One upstairs and one downstairs. Sleeping arrangements were crowded. I had my bed, and the other two kids would sleep on it in my room. Their mom would sleep on the couch downstairs.

We were already very close, but we spent almost all of our time together. There were really only 5 other kids nearby, and only 2 of them over the age of ten. We only got two channels, and unfortunately the sega had not made it into the luggage they brought with them, so there was often nothing to do on those long weekends except go kick rocks down by the river. I loved her older brother. He was funny, and would often find things to do on those times that made life bearable, but he was about 16, and being 11 myself, we had very different interests. He would do stuff with me to humor me, but he had his limits before he wanted to listen to music and just watch tv. I spent a lot of time with his sister. It was just the two of us down the hill, hanging out at the river, when some kids from the next town over came by and started hassling us. They were maybe 12-13. I don't know why they were so hostile, but they made comments about my long hair, and had told us to get out of there. Being that I didn't know any better, I decided to stick around, and, using all the 11 year old cunning and wit I could summon, tood them to, "fuck off". This girl had a slightly more advanced vocabulary and called them dickheads. Shortly after, they threw a rock. It missed, but they were all cackling anyway at the indignant face I made when I realised what had happened. They were probably older than me, but I was bigger than them. I would say it was a discrepancy in pubescence, but that had just started to.....

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>>23369757
No problem. I don't know whether your text is biographic or not, but I'll reiterate that you need it to go somewhere. If you don't play deliberate with a plot or climax then you'll risk having it hit these middle-highs (e.g. the owl attack) that collectively don't go anywhere.

Assuming it's at least somewhat autobiographic, with those middle-highs you need to mind internal context: the significance of an event may only be clear to you and not the reader; if you only draw from personal experience then the impact for the reader will never be what it was for you, and the art has to be in condensing it to be intelligible without your whole N years of life written into it. Again, that's assuming this is autobiographic or mostly so, which I know is common on here. If not then you probably have a handle on it already.

>>23364295
Thank you very much
It was my goal to make something that's absurd on every single level, including structurally, prosaically, etc.
To that end I did change the ending to take out all the emotional resolution, but the other tweaks have all been quite small
The finished product is now here
https://files.catbox.moe/tj3530.pdf
I need to find a different format for it
>>23366608
Y-you too

>>23370221
... Hit for me, and in reality, I had just always been big for my age. At the back of every class photo, looking like someone who had been held back in kindergarten about 4 years. I was ready to intercede, when a rock came flying from our side of the little foot bridge. It also missed but it immediately sparked retaliation. Now all 3 of them had joined in, and were aiming for the most recent transgressor, my friend, Jay. Three went flying off, and all missed her, but not before I launched my counterattack, advancing on them in body and spirit, with arms extended to my side and as confident a shout as my squeaky 11 year old voice could muster, "you wanna fight"? They did not, in fact, wanna fight. At this point another rock came my way and hit me in the leg. It wasn't very big, and they evidently couldn't throw very hard at that distance, so I ignored it, and replied with, "I'll take you all on". The big one advanced first with the second largest following after and the third staying behind and continuing the impotent gravel bombardment. I had been in a lot of fights in school. Evidently, when we first moved to the small town following my parents' divorce, I had offended someone and started what adults would call a blood feud. Almost everyone was distantly related in some way, and one fight would result in another, with progressively larger groups of assailants. I had won some, lost some, and was saved by the bell on a number of occasions, literally, but I did have experience fighting multiple kids at once, and often older than me. Plus I had support. Jay had run up right along side me as we marched to the middle of the bridge. She was equally unfazed by the bits of ditch fill flying her way, and as we drew closer I did my patented hail mary of punching the biggest threat right in the neck. Kids often fight in much less aggressive ways, especially in a hockey town. Wrestling and gut shots were much more common than a punch to the face, and often a big kid could get knocked out of a fight quickly if they sustained a semi serious injury. It had failed more times than it had worked, but it was always worth a try. This time was fortuitous. As I drew closer with the first kid, I punched him as hard as I could and it landed square in the neck, he had leaned back to duck the surprise head blow, but ended up leaving my intended target wide open. He stumbled back, and as I engaged with the second kid in the usual match of 'who can put who in a headlock', Jay ran to the other side to attack the runty grenadier. At least I thought. She ran up to him on the other side of the bridge, picked up a handful of gravel and threw it in his face, and as he was taken aback by this, she changed her target,running over to their bikes. The little cretin ran over and grabbed her by the back of her shirt, but it was too late. She had picked up the bike, and despite the little interlopers attempts at intercession, she sent it rolling into the river....

>>23370222
My plan is to have him go into the fab and die inside. He has stopped eating. A Schopenhauerian ascetic suicide via a denial of The Will to Life. Schopenhauer mentions starvation as a 'true' suicide in his essay 'On Suicide.' I am going to write about the ritual of work, and inverting Maslow's hierarchy. I worry that it might be a bit to schizoid rn, but I need I need to finish it already instead of starting over and over and over. I appreciate the advice/critique. You're absolutely right about context and plot.

File: 20230622_055814.jpg (3.15 MB, 2921x3265)

3.15 MB JPG

>>23370222
also, I really was attack by an owl. pic rel.

>>23370290
At this point, I had gotten the upper hand with the second kid, and the first had recovered from the initial shock of actually being hurt. He was on me, joining in on the grapple for supremacy, punching me in the ribs and tugging at my head, but when he saw this, he decided to change strategy. They both collectively pushed me off and turned their attention to the bike altercation. Jay had attempted to launch a second bike into the water, but the little weasel had managed to prevent that. She was wrestling with him over it, but realising she wasn't going to force the bike out of his hands, she pushed him, and he fell over the bike. The two started runing over to help, but I still had one of them by the collar. Jay saw the big kid lumbering in her direction, and took off toward him. I saw this wasn't going to end well. Fortunately, she wasn't attempting to engage, but rather trying to get across to the other side up the river. She tried to run past him, but he grabbed her shirt. I saw this outcome and had already given the other kid a quick push down and made my way over to assist. He only had her in his hands for about a second when a punch came to the back of his head. He immediately turned around and let go, looking a bit stunned. The kid I had pushed was follwing close behind, and I swung around back and hit him with a back fist. Jay ran behind me, and I quickly retreated as well, putting us all back to our original opposite sides of the bridge.

There was a momentary pause in the conflict. I think partially because we had gotten the upper hand uo until now, and with their bike in the lake, they were reticent to re engage until that had been sorted.

"What the fuck", the small kid squeaked from the safety of the river bank. ""You threw our bike in the river".

"What are you gonna do about it", I cleverly retorted. The big kid chimed in, his attention on Jay, "you better get it out"! "Or what? You gonna beat up a girl, tough guy" Jay snapped back. "I'll throw you in after it is what I'll do".

"No you won't". I said this with confidence, but in reality, I wasn't sure if I could do much to prevent it. Regardless, the big kid looked at me, "What are you? Her girlfriend"?

Before I could come up with another witty retort, something like, (what are you, his boyfriend?) Jay spoke up, "yeah, he's my boyfriend, and he can kick all your asses, you fucking retards. I can kick your asses, too. You want a double ass kicking"?

The argument went on for a while after that, with various empty threats thrown bak and forth, and ultimatums of this or that in negotiating the fetching of the bike, but nothing came of it. We backed off, chirping insults along the way, until eventually we had made enough distance to flee the scene safely, while the 3 bullies resigned themselves to engineering some solution to retrieve the bike.

On the way back, Jay walked next to me, holding my arm in hers. Neither of us said anything....

>>23370221
>>23370290
>>23370429
This is a fucking fever dream and I'm not convinced you meant it to be
>comma splices everywhere
>character introductions drag on for pages and pages while the narrator meanders in and out of other topics
>constant switching between words a child would know and more clinical terminology suggestive of a narrator recalling events much later in life
>posts ending in the middle of sentences
This is creepypasta material

>>23370429
.... She was thanking me in the way she felt appropriate, and I was too shook up from the fight, and nervous about the current situation to really say anything. Deciding to feign stoicism in keeping with my self perceived tough guy image....

.

>>23370521
... When we got back, we recounted the story to her older brother, who, to his credit, did go down there, but he said they were gone and the bike was still clearly in the river. He was 16 and figured beating up some kids was the beginning and end of his responsibilities in this situation.

No mention was made of the boyfriend comment, or the somewhat awkward walk back home. I was too nervous to bring it up, and felt both somewhat conflicted, and generally unprepared for how to proceed. I was 11. Despite having a basic understanding of relationships, crude sexual innuendo, and a vague understanding of attraction to women in the sears catalogue, I was still at an age where most of my peers thought girls were for queers. I will admit, that I did have somewhat of a crush on Jay, but not anything serious, she was older than me, and, by my 11 year old standards, very mature. All the kids in my class who did have crushes on girls liked girls older than them, and I was in the same camp. She was pretty, and having an older girlfriend would give me a lot of cool points, but she was also like an older sibling. This was my 11 year old thought process, anyway. I figured the best move was to continue my stoicism, and see if she brought it up again.

She did, but not until later that night. It was Saturday, and since no one was home except for us 3, Jake, her older brother, slept on my mom's bed. That left me and Jay alone in my room.

>>23370526
....
This had happened before, but tonight was different. It was 11 pm, and I was still thinking about the events earlier in the day. I was thinking about how I could have done things differently. What if I had said this to that kid, what if I had done that when she did this. I still couldn't get that comment out of my head. Jay broke the silence. "Hey Chris", I heard her peep with a breathy hushed voice. "What"? "Thanks for what you did today". "No problem", I was still playing the stoic. Stoicism turned to paralysis at what happened next, though.

Jay popped up off the floor and slid into my bed next to me. "No, seriously, that was really bad ass. You took on three guys at once". "Well, you helped. I think that one kid cried after you threw his bike in the river". She was speaking to me in a breathy whisper now. Our faces were only inches apart now. I was trying to have a normal conversation, but I could feel her breath on my face and hear my heart in my ears. There was a good period of silence, and she said in a slightly louder voice, letting the gravel out like a purr ash she rolled over next to me, "I really appreciate it". She tucked my bicep under her head, and wrapped her arms around mine, holding my forearm to her chest. As she turned to face away from me. She nestled in close, and said, "good night, honey"... Well, technically her last words were, "don't get handsy".

>>23370529
This sounds nice, and I was over the moon, but I did have a problem now where I was a pubescent boy cuddled up next to a beautiful teenage girl for the first time after getting a huge life changing bomb dropped on me right before bed. I didn't sleep until almost 4 am, when I finally had the will to remove my arm from her grasp and roll into a more comfortable, if less magical, position facing away from her.

This was where things got weird. Our parents returned on Sunday morning. I was still asleep. When I woke up, Jay was gone, and I was by myself. I layed there for a while, thinking again about everything that had just happened. I could hear the commotion of our parents down stairs, and I wondered how they would factor into this. Should I tell them? What should I tell them? Did Jay already tell them? Again, I was 11. I had no idea how to navigate any of this, but I thought I did. Once again, I would keep quiet and let others do the talking, gather information, and go from there. I fantasized all the different ways the conversation could play out, that took about an hour, and then I headed downstairs. I went into the kitchen, where our moms were going about their routine. I said hi, they replied in kind, asked how the weekend was, I asked about their shows. Everything seemed above board. I should have known. Fights, even when you win and are in the right, are generally frowned upon, and neither Jay or Jake were snitches. Plus, more importantly, without that story, how could anyone make sense of our relationship? If that's what it was. Surely, no one knew anything about anything, and I could go on not talking about any of it. Perfect. Next, I went into the living room to see Jake sitting on the armrest, watching tv, with Jay on the couch opposite. I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. I was half expecting her to siddle up next to me, but she never did. Other than a, "what's up little dude", from Jake, nothing was discussed, and we sat there in silence.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Mostly me, trapped in my own head, overthinking everything and getting myself twisted into knots. Tommorow was a school night, so I was in bed by ten. Jake and Jay were sleeping on the big mattress splayed out on the floor, and I was laying awake, still half expecting Jay to pop up over the edge of my bed and crawl in with me again. That never happened.

On Wednesday things continued as normal. Went to school, watched tv, went to go see what the neighbors were up to. Obviously, I still thought about the same things every day, but that wasn't getting me anywhere. On Thursday, our parents had a show, however, and would be gone again until Sunday. I thought maybe something would happen, but it didn't. It was a school night, and I was starting to get to sleep at a more normal hour. On Friday evening however, we went our together again. The bike was still in the river, which we thought was fun, once we had settled in, though,...

>>23370539
Jay nuzzled up to me again. We chatted, and despite being a bit nervous at first. I got used to it after a while. It was more like a normal interaction. Things were going good. We were really close, despite her being older, and it felt natural. We walked home holding hands. It was cute.

The arrangements were the same. That night Jay crawled into my bed, but this time she didn't roll over and go to sleep. She looked at me for a really long time. I said, "what?", feigning a jovial confusion, but I was unprepared for when she kissed me. I liked it. At least, I thought I did. I thought I liked it, too, when she took my hand and pressed it into her pajama pants over her butt. She kissed me on the neck and then looked back at me. I think now that she was searching for some sign of appreciation, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't understand what she was thinking. I tried to reach my head forward, and give her a quick peck on the lips to let her know she could continue, but I missed and kissed her on the nose. She laughed at this, and then climbed on top and straddled me. She put my hand on her buttocks, and another over her breast. I couldn't feel much through the padding in her bra, but i didn't move either of my hands as she leaned down to kiss me again. I was too afraid to move anything. To do anything wrong. I didn't want to do something to ruin it. I had a girlfriend. I liked her. It was awsome. That's what I ahd to keep telling myself. This is what boyfriends and girlfriends do, I said to myself. I was only half way sure about that..Things got weirder from there.

I still remember feeling a mix of shame and guilt when my mom asked me if Jay and I had been, "doing stuff, like kissing". It was a few months later, and yes, we had. I denied it. She told me that was good, because I was too young. I was angry. I didn't think I was too young at the time. I had a girlfriend, and if I was too young, then how was I doing it? We Had done way more stuff than that, what was the big deal about kissing. After that conversation, I had to sleep on the couch.

>>23370576
I didn't say any of that to my mom, of course. But just the suspicion was enough that supervision was required from that point forward. Jay pretended nothing had happened. Within a couple of weeks, things had pretty much returned to normal. I thought it was all over. That I had lost the love.of my life because my mom was being overly protective of Jay. It was the wording she used. Saying that I would be,"taking advantage of her". I wondered if I was. I wondered if that's why Jay had stopped. Maybe she had been clued into something I wasn't. Maybe ahe was stuck here with me but didn't want to be anymore, and was just biding her time. A couple months later they moved out. We hadn't talked about it again.

I had one similar experience when I was 12, with another girl. She was living next door with her aunt, because her parents were not good people. Neither was her aunt, but I suppose the kesser of two evils will do in a pinch. She spent a lot of time staying at our house. When she made some insinuations at me, I told her I had a girlfriend. She didn't believe me, and I think this spurred her on more. I did my best to avoid her. She was pretty too, but I honestly wasn't sure if I did have a girlfriend. That, and I had already internalised that I was a naughty boy for taking advantage of young girls, despite them being older than me, which I thought was kind of unfair.

We still went to visit from time to time. It was a couple of years later. I was thirteen, and a bit more discerning, but I still felt paralyzed around Jay. We had still never talked about sny of it. Even when we were alone. I think Jay saw that I was a bit messed up about all of it. She would do promiscuous things when no one was looking, like lick a popsicle suggestively, showing me her new thong, pulling down her shirt to expose her cleavage, and taking off her bra and throwing it at me. Forcing me to quickly throw it back, lest someone walk in and I get accused of being a sex pervert. At the time I thought this was her way of showing me she still liked me. That we had a secret relationship that no one knew about. I knew I had been faithful to her, and I assumed that if she was still doing this to me, then she must not be with anyone else. I remember when I found out she had a boyfriend. Her mom and mine were talking at the kitchen table and I overheard from the living room. Her mom said she had a few boyfriends in the oast, but this was the first one they got to meet. I was crushed, but had to keep pretending.

>>23370614
I eventually met him. He was 18, two years older than Jay. He had a car, and was joining the army. Before he arrived, she came up to me when we were alone. She told me that she had told him that we were all related, and that I was her cousin. She asked if I would play along. I agreed.

Jay was always fighting with her mom, but things had gotten particularly bad. I heard through the grapevine that she had done or said some such thing, and that every time they had a fight, she would go stay at her boyfriend's house. 6 months later I heard the same way that she was pregnant. 3 months after that, I found out she had worn out her welcome there, as well. She was staying with her brother. I knew where he lived, and went to visit from time to time.

I stopped in, under the guise that I had heard little to nothing about this. I was 15, and hadn't seen Jay in over a year. I got a ride from an older friend of mine into the city where Jake lived. It was a small apartment in an old building with the bricks falling out and left to sink into the soil of the mossy lawn. I knocked on the door, and she answered. She gave me a big hug. I could still get my arms around her, despite the pregnant belly. We talked, and she told about how her army boyfriend had gotten abusive after she moved in with him. That neither of their parents were supportive. That she had dropped out of school 3 months prior. She was living with her brother, but he couldn't hold down a job. Jake was a nice guy, but he didn't have a great head on his shoulders, and that's coming from me.

She had tried to find work but couldn't make it happen. Nobody was willing to give a pregnant teenager anything more than a pity job for a few hours a week. We talked on the phone for a couple of weeks when she told me Jake would be gone that weekend, and asked me to come over. I was nervous as hell. I could feel all the same feelings wash over me again. That nervous tingle that makes me feel sick and works its way into my ears. I thought it was love. I met with her, and we had sex. She was 7 months pregnant. She told me she loved me. That she was sorry she hadn't dated me from the start. This conflicted my my own twisted construction of events, but I let it slide. I was sure she was the one for me, that I had lobed her all my life and I would be with her all my life.

I told my mom that I was dropping out of school to support Jay. We were in a relationship, and that we would both finish school after the baby had been born.

She wasn't happy. I had to move out as well, but I did it. I spent the next two years working and raising that baby. I was lucky. A guy at a local construction company felt for my story and gave me regular employment. I made decent money for the time, and for the position I was in. We had a decent apartment, my mok had agreed to cosign the lease. Shortly after i moved in with her, she had a baby girl....

>>23370664
It seems weird, but I loved that girl like she was my own. I watched her take her first steps, took her to the doctor when she was sick. Changed diapers and first solid food, first day of daycare. Jay tried workin a few gigs, but it never worked out for long. It didn't take long for me to see why it hadn't worked out with the army fella. She was quick to love you, and quick to turn on you. I was 17, and I had raised her baby, supported her while she got her GED, I was even fixing on getting her into college. I wouldn't even be able to apply myself, but she was still always suspicious that I was going to leave her. She told me I didn't love her, she was always going through my cell phone, she said I hated her. She would throw stuff, break things, spend hours crying in the bathroom, and then just like that, we'd work it out and she'd be back to being miss lovey dovey. I knew this wasn't normal. My own parents had acted like this, but I still knew this wasn't okay. Still, when she was on, she was a dream. So attentive and kind. She really was beautiful, and would do almost anything I asked her. Even when she would tell me she was fed up, and leaving, and I was so sick of it that I was ready to walk out to, something would click and she'd have me wrapped around her finger in minutes, and she seemed like she'd be wrapped around mine, too.

This characteristic of hers got us in trouble. Now, I'm fairly certain she had Borderline personality disorder. I've since learned that one of the main traits is an ability to form deep emotional attachments to, and with people, really quickly. It often also includes rapid mood swings, paranoia, and violent behaviour. She had gotten a job, and while she was working that job, with our daughter in day care, she met and got involved with some guy from work. I realize that part of her suspicion was projection. She had been cheating on me for months. I found out after she lost her job for fighting eith a coworker. It was appearently easier to keep a secret when they were fooling around in the back at work. This prize still lived with his parents, so any adultery would have to be carried out at my house. I didn't walk in on them, but I found a pack of cigarettes on the porch outside, she said they were a friend's. The next was when I found a man's belt in the bathroom. That was harder to explain. She cried, and begged me to give her another chance. I did, and 3 months later she was gone with that guy, and had taken our kid with her.

I went back to school after a few months of deep depression. I then got a call from Jay. I hadn't heard form he rin months. She told me that she was pregnant again, except this time it was mine. She said she had left her new boyfriend, but im retrospect it was probably the other way around. We got back together after paternity was confirmed. She promised me she had really changed. I was a sucker for her, and believed her.

>>23370695
I was still young, and a fool. Plus she had a spell on me that I couldn't break free from. I was always chasing her love and acceptance, and she was always willing to give it to me, but only for so long that I wouldn't figure out it was something else. Then she'd yank it away, and I'd have to chase it all over again. When it was nice, it was really nice, but those were becoming fewer and farther between. Really, I was just happy to have my kid back. She was really special, and it breaks my heart. We had a daughter a few months later. That was nice. I think I kind of walled off from Jay and was just focused on giving my kids a good life. I spent 2 years doing that, and she was gone again.

This time, I kicked her out. I suspected something was amiss. Cheating wasn't my first concern, but it was the cause. She had started doing drugs. She had always had periods where she acted erratically from time to time, but these times were different. She wouldn't sit in the bathroom and cry, she would get mad, leave, and come back a few hours later, apologizing like she always did, but acting weirdly. I found some in her purse when I was looking for my debit card. Turns out she had been seeing a guy who got her into drugs. When I confronted her about it, she admitted everything. I gave her an ultimatum, and when she stormed out again, I half expected her to come back a few hours later. But she didn't. After 4 days she came back, saying she was going and taking the kids with her. I said no. I was dead set on this. There was no way I was going to leave either of those kids with her. But she call the cops, and they took the kids away, and i battled it out in court, and because I was a 19 year old highschool drop out, and I suspect a man in generao, and one of the kids wasn't even mine, she got shared custody of my youngest daughter, and full custody of her oldest.

After 3 months she gave me our youngest daughter, though. She dropped her off, saying she couldn't deal with me and it was better if I had her all to myself so she wouldn't remember her mom, and that she would never have to see me again.

She disappeared out of my life for 3 years. She cut all contact with her family and dropped off the face of the earth. When I next heard about her, it was from.the police, she had killed herself, and left a note with me as next of kin. She said I was the father of her child, and that she should go to me. The police didn't take much stock of that when they found out she wasn't mine, but after a lengthy process, I adopted her, as no one else wanted to take her.

It's been 8 years and a lot of therapy. I went back to school and actually got a university degree. I'm married to a really kind lady now, and have 2 more kids. She actually supported me through school. Life is looking up now, and my two oldest daughters are healing from their trauma. I'm still trying to heal from mine.

>>23370728
I know now that what I felt for her wasn't love. It was abuse. I had been molested by an older girl who herself, as I later learned, was also abused. I had taken that confused feeling, that desire for attachment, and that sense of shame, isolation, and loneliness, and tried to remedy it with affirmation and validation from the person who abused me. I needed that feeling to justify all the decisions I had made, and make sense of all the bad things I felt. It was an attempt to claim back the power and sense of self esteem I had lost after that experience.

Part of me is still haunted by it. I still dream about her from time to time. Sometimes it's vile. Sometimes it's wonderful, but I always wake up feeling sick after.

Anyway, sorry for all the spelling and grammatical mistakes. I jst had to process all of this in writing and did it quickly throughout the night. All fresh, no revisions, so it probably stinks but it's all a true story. I needed to Share it all at once with someone. It's still hard for me to talk about with people, so I thought I'd do it at anonymous strangers. Maybe not the most appropriate board, or maybe not the most appropriate format, but I needed to get it out there.

>>23370744
Don't care, you're a whiny faggot and your writing sucks. Fuck off.

>>23370744
>I buried this thread so I could vent about abusing a chick
Damn dude fuck off. You could have at least dumped it in a shithole like /wwoym/ or gone off to /r9k/ or whatever. Not gonna read that shit anyway.

>>23371547
>>23371279
You know you are allowed to post on this board without acting like a cynical faggot, not everyone realizes this so FYI

>>23371567
>you have to be nice when someone takes a shit right in front of you
>so what if he doesn't know what the board is for?
>so what if he didn't read the OP?
>he's just a naive retard and you need to be nice to him!
wow revolutionary
I crit this 10/10

So last night I was taking a walk and I saw this group of people in the park so I went up and told them all about how bad I felt about raping my dog when I was ten and how this was in fact because I was bullied for being a slimy weirdo at school so like I'm trying to recover from that and we have puppies now which is cool. It was late when I finished but one of the kids was still listening and I asked if he could give me a buck but he said no, but it was okay.

I call this performance "new sincerity."

>>23370664
>It was a small apartment in an old building with the bricks falling out and left to sink into the soil of the mossy lawn.
I'll say one thing for you: I like this sentence
After all the fucking drama over in /wg/ about how to set a scene, and the arguments over "agricultural meadows," it's refreshing to see it done so straightforwardly with a basic level of competence
That said, I'll let the other anons get back to ripping you an asshole for being vulnerable and reflecting on your life choices
Congratulations on inseminating two separate females right in the uterus, and on working construction

>>23371567
This thread is for critiquing people's writing, not for you to word vomit ten post's worth of bullshit about your shitty boring life. No one cares. We aren't here to act as your therapist. Go process your shit somewhere else you stupid cunt

>>23369610
Some annoying grammatical errors but otherwise solid prose. Good stuff.
>>23371279
>>23371567
Comma splices. Drill punctuation until you break the habit.

>>23371824
Nta but why do you pedantic faggots complain about splices when parataxic clauses are a thing? Its almost like you are giving writing advice to middle schoolers who have not experienced the exceptions to these old fashioned rules.

>>23371824
I don't need you to critique my grammar, you smug prick. It was a quick off-the-cuff reply I made, not an actual example of my writing. Go fuck yourself. I'll splice this comma right up your asshole.

>>23371945
>>23372003
As long as you mouthbreathing shitlords are wasting time arguing and going off-topic, I'll critique whatever the fuck I want.

Up and down, sands merge together
Left and right, pendulums tether
Around and around all the wheels turn forever
From the onset of time ‘till the last
Fibres of destiny weathered so fast
The carrion, the profits, and a grave

>>23372222
I would stick with past tense. And take out a lot of unnecessary words to try and sound "smart". Have an occasional smart word here and there, but you don't need one every single sentence. It makes the piece lose clarity.

Other then that, I don't know or care where this story is heading. Get to the point, does he want a taco? beat on some mexican? wish he was mexican? no need to have sad lonely man in an apartment microwave a burrito. How a bout the smell of the burrito made him realize how much work sucks

File: images (15).jpg (54 KB, 554x553)

54 KB JPG

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TcO6dXXspCUGokmDGz6d29KKwwX_Y4mJpsMMIwRR_Qw/edit?usp=drivesdk

Just starting, I feel I need to be more descriptive with danvers

>>23373257
>holds up spork

>>23373300
Nice du of dubs! I dunno what spork is

>>23370222
>They have many issues of Seventeen, this unbelievably twisted pubescents-fucking-like-weasels mag I first saw in Holland, and they have special Seventeen presents Teenager Action mags, which feature even younger couples in extended fuckoramas.
>Jaded as I am, I can't help but flip seeing a girl and guy of twelve or thirteen, tops, ramming Martel bottles up each other's asses. These are not the Dutch equivalent of abused traller-park kids, either. They look to be in excellent health and seem to be honestly enjoying this.
>Makes all the conventional arguments against this kind of thing seem really silly. They're kids. Kids like to play with their own and other people's privates. They're just being photographed at it. Now, people who get a voyeuristic charge out of watching them, like me. I guess, well, we've got some grip-on-reality problems.

>tfw Steve Albini was a fucking nonce
>tfw he's burning in hell rn

>>23373344
>omg ur so evil how can you think like that
His whole thing for about a decade was about being offensive ("transgressive"). This is a guy whose best work was arguably under the name Rapeman.

God you're such a baby.

That summer, he faced the ocean on an empty beach. Surfboard in hand, he rushed toward it, the chilling water greeting him. He paddled away from the beach toward the rising waves. Fleeing the shore, leaving behind the worries of his idle mind. Abandoning that world which he had graduated into. Too early or too late, but just not at the right time. He paddled onward into the sea instead.

Here. I will catch the waves here.

Waves barreled to the shore with force there, unfettered by the breaking of the beach. Salt water sprayed onto his face as he tried to intercept their approach. He mounted his surfboard frantically as the waves went past, pushing down, attempting to stand but falling. He tumbled down into the surf, again and again. The sorry scene went on for hours.

“Stop trying to force the wave.”

A clear voice broke from the concert of the waves crashing. It came from a girl with blonde hair resplendent in the morning sun. She had the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen, like beacons of light over unknown waters, fractals from the heart of the ocean.

A mermaid.

“It’s out of your control, let it take you,” she said demonstrating the proper motion over her surfboard. Her gentle laugh broke the young man’s gaze.

“Alright,” he said, looking down.

“Here comes a good one.”

A large wave began to break. The young man gave into the wave, and it carried him. When the moment was right, he stood. He was flying now, swerving all the way to the shore.

“Hey, I did it!” he called back.

But the beach was empty, and the ocean desolate. The turquoise waters shone under the morning sun, just a hue from her infinite eyes.

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>>23373439
>nooo dude u don’t get it, yeah he was buddies with convicted pedophile peter sotos and talked about looking at CSAM of literal toddlers but like that doesn’t matter bc he was just being edgy and he was a creative genius and budd is such a great song though!!

>>23373566
Go order a Big Mac, you dilettante.

>>23373603
>low iq ad hom
I don’t eat red meat.

>>23373621
>can't grasp basic of 80s transgressive tropes
>vegan
bet you're bisexual too

>>23373621
>>23373649
Sorry, let me correct myself. Not "vegan" but some other variety of basic bitchass ecofaggot "think of the environment" dogooder scumsucker go fuck yourself. Choke on a lentil, you prissy little bitch.

>>23373652
Lmao, I’m not vegan anymore, but I was vegan for a five year stretch at one point.

>>23373652
>seething pedophile apologist
>thinks caring about the environment is a bad thing
opinion discarded

>>23373721
This is about being limp-wristed and incapable of facing the world with any sort of aggression. It's that "I don't eat red meat" is a fucking pathetic reply that means nothing other than to signal some insipid ideological stance that fundamentally every person on the planet has. This "think of the kids" rejection of humor or offense. It's about your stupid self-righteous posturing that feels the need to glower over anything offensive, as if whatever makes you think twice, whatever makes someone else laugh, whatever makes someone grimace a little ought to be buried with puritanical boredom. God. Just die. Keel over. Stop breathing. Or at least stop talking because it's so boring.

>>23373721
>I’m not vegan anymore

good for you anon. how did you come to see the light and realize that you were a total fucking retard that everybody hated?

>>23373741
tbqh I don’t actually give a fuck about your boy Albini’s dumb edgelord “humour”. I just wanted an excuse to shit on you because your posts in this thread have been pissing me off.

>Just die.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Nah, I won’t give you the satisfaction.

>>23373757
>I don't actually have an opinion I just think you stink
Okay.

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>>23373750
>how did you come to see the light and realize that you were a total fucking retard that everybody hated?

Here is how it happened: it was summer 2021, and I was going through a dark night of the soul. I met up with my friends at a public park, and they were smoking a joint, and they offered me some. After taking a few drags I started to get really anxious (weed and Adderall do not mix). I was laying in the grass crying and saying things like “I have nothing to live for.” They were trying to console me, but I was inconsolable. They didn’t want to take me back to my parents’ house in the state I was in, so we went to this shitty chain restaurant to have drinks on the patio. They ordered nachos for the table and I said I didn’t want anything. I rarely ever drink so after having two gross overpriced cocktails I was kind of drunk and was just like “fuck it, nothing matters” and ate a few bites of the nachos. They were looking at me with shock and concern as I casually violated one of my most deeply held ethical principles by consuming dairy. After that I kind of went off the rails and stopped caring about anything and continued to consume animal products on a near-daily basis. I still don’t eat red meat though. Anyway I’m fairly certain that being a strict vegan from 18-23 stunted my brain development in some sense and left me kind of retarded. Would not recommend.

>>23373854
>my most deeply held ethical principles by consuming dairy.

lol, what a faggot. dairy cows are all being tortured, right? I suppose you thought it was wrong to keep a dog or a cat too. vegans really are fucking insufferable.

but at least you are clawing your way back bit by bit. in time you'll be eating red meat like a normal human being and might be tolerated like one.

>>23373930
>dairy cows are all being tortured, right?
I mean, factory farming is pretty cruel towards dairy cows. In my case it was primarily for environmental reasons though.

> I suppose you thought it was wrong to keep a dog or a cat too.
Nah.

>vegans really are fucking insufferable
True. In my defense, I was radicalised by the YouTube algorithm back in 2016.

You people who derailed this thread should be ashamed. It's embarrassing.... Children.

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Why would anyone want their shit critiqued by randos on 4chan?
Anyone seriously looking for critique from anons is just asking to be a worse writer
The best thing you can do is unironically post your excerpts and do the opposite of what they (You)s say
People who cant write, critique
It's quite literally that shrimple and if you think it's more complicated then you won't make it
Just fucking read and write
That's literally all you need to do to become an author

>>23340717
Pain. A thunder in the head unlike anything Evelyn had experienced before. She drowned in it, keeled over her bedside, vomiting onto the carpet. She could not see out of her right eye. Pins and needles danced across her arms and legs. Her husband, hands shaking and sweat soaking his underarms, used his phone flashlight to look at her eye. Dilated, the light sending a deep groan from Evelyn’s throat. It was 2:23 in the morning.
The EMTs took one look at her and had her in the back of the ambulance in seconds. Lights and sirens strangled Evelyn’s words in her mouth, and she muttered numbly about health insurance and social security. Her husband followed in their cream colored Toyota Echo. She could feel her heartbeat in her toes.
And then, peace. Sudden and immaculate, just as the ambulance back doors had opened and the EMTs prepared to pull the stretcher from the truck. The thunder had left her, her heart calmed and the blank space had left her vision. The doctor, of course, would hear none of it. Stroke symptoms that intense do not simply cease. In fact, judging by what she had told the nurses, the doctor was shocked that she had even made it to the hospital.
“So, unfortunately we can’t administer the clot-buster.” He explained in a calm, but hasty voice. “The stroke woke you up, so for all we know you could have been showing symptoms in your sleep for hours. There’s a chance it would kill you, so instead, we’re going to have to cut you open. First things first, they’re prepping the MRI so we can get a look at your brain.”
“Can I see George?” Evelyn said.
“We’ll make sure you’ll get to see your husband before surgery, don’t sweat it.” He said.
The MRI was more akin to a coffin than a medical instrument. A small, claustrophobic thing, with an examination table designed to slide her inside. The nurse held her hand as they examined her for piercings or fillings in her teeth.
“It’s gonna be a little scary.” The nurse said. “I won't lie to you, this thing is loud as hell, and it's more than a tight squeeze.” She pointed to a monitor on the wall, indecipherable numbers and data coated its screen. “Lucky for you, this bad boy is a newer model. When you’re all done, and it won’t be but a minute that you’re in there, the image of your brain will display right up there. All digital, just like that.”
When it was done, and they had pulled her from the stomach of the machine, the nurse patted her on the back.

cont,

>>23374182
“There you go, don’t try to sit up too quickly.” She said, “Hey, wanna see what your brain looks like? It's super cool.” She grinned as she spoke, genuinely fascinated by her work. Evelyn said nothing. Once again, the nurse pointed at the monitor, now a crisp white, the word “PROCESSING” in bold yellow font flashing on the screen. And then, the image appeared.
At first, Evelyn did not understand what she was seeing. It appeared more of a sponge than a brain. Black and white, transparent, a tangled mess of neurons and cerebellum.

And within it, a great black blotch. The unmistakable shape of a fetus.

“Oh shit! Oh shit oh fuck!” The nurse leaped back in her chair, nearly toppling over. She sprinted for the door and shouted, “Code black! Its a fucking code black! Quarantine procedures! Now!”

Static. A hiss behind the eyes, Evelyn fell backwards into her own mind. It was not a feeling like panic or dread that overtook her, but was instead something that she could feel in her arms and legs. A coldness that swept through her veins, dark as oil and red as rust. She felt it in her teeth, like angels in her gums. She tasted it in the air, like stale piss and electricity.

This is not real.

Not me. This isn’t what happens to me.

But why not? It has happened to thousands before her. She saw it on the news almost every night, men in yellow hazmat suits erecting barricades, encasing horrified people by the hundreds into great plastic prison camps. Quarantine zones, they called them.

Some were the size of cities.

She remembered the grainy footage of men with the heads of dogs pulling their own entrails from their stomachs, of children with mouths grown upon their throats and backs. But that was up north, a thousand miles from Eveyln’s home. The governor had assured her that the plague would never touch the eastern seaboard, and she believed him.

She was safe. She was secure.

And then the fetus began to laugh.

>>23374135
retard

>>23374182

Does it really matter that the car is a "cream colored Toyota Echo?"

>>23375977
NTA but it might if there was a fetus in your head

>>23375977
I don't mind the detail on their suburban life. That might be just the kind of banality to occur to you when you think you're about to die

>>23376407

I didn't really understand that part. Is the fetus laughing from inside her head or what? Or has it jumped out of her head, through her ear or something and is now laughing while sitting in bed beside her? Because I jsut don't get how this thing could be laughing if it's a "fetus" in her brain.

>>23377110
>She remembered the grainy footage of men with the heads of dogs pulling their own entrails from their stomachs, of children with mouths grown upon their throats and backs. But that was up north, a thousand miles from Eveyln’s home. The governor had assured her that the plague would never touch the eastern seaboard, and she believed him.
>She was safe. She was secure.
>And then the fetus began to laugh.


the idea is that there is a fantastical element to it i think. maybe there is a fetus in her head and its laughing at her. who knows.

>>23377110
>Evelyn fell backwards into her own mind
I think the fetus has a psychic connection with her. It's still inside her brain

>>23374182
this is actually really good horror writing, not like beautiful prose or anything but its pretty well executed for what it is : )

Is this a decent ending for the setup?

>TL;DR of plot: vainglorious older vampire with a savior complex wants to take a survivalist techie vampire under wing. The two have been arguing over the older one's choice to be a cosplay model in the modern era.

Full 8 page story: files.catbox.moe/eccanq.txt

Luca shifted her gaze to the table. She sat silently for a few moments. Then her gaze slowly drifted up to mine. “Then meet me here next Tuesday. About an hour after sundown. We will talk.”

I was nearly through to her. Close, yes, yet somehow slightly beyond my reach. It was excruciating. “I will be on my way to California by then. It’s going to be a long drive.”

Luca seemed almost pleading as she turned toward me as fully as she could in the booth. “Then fly. If you are serious about me giving everything up and doing things your way, then show me it’s real. Give something up on your side. I really mean it. Tell them to leave without you. Get yourself a plane ticket for later. Or tell them to fuck off. Cancel the whole event. I don’t care how you do it. Just do something on your own for once. You are in control, right? Right...?” she trailed off.

It was of utmost importance that I make my way to California. Driving was so relaxing and comfortable as I may luxuriate in my home the entire way. In contrast, planes were dreadful. Being crammed into a tiny box with those animals brought back echoes of long nights wearing greasepaint under gaslight. Long nights I was very happy to leave behind. Furthermore, this was not just a convention shoot; this was also going to be a video opportunity. A starring role would boost my grand ascension upon that digital stage. My next five years hung in the balance of this one event.
Then again, so did hers.

Could Luca survive another five years at the fringes of society? Living out of sedans while eking out a meager existence is hard enough. Her melancholy dark eyes and slightly too pale face spoke volumes of the toll it takes. And yet, despite it all, she lives according to and fights for what she believes in. True integrity shines like a spotlight in the dim theater of the modern world. A spotlight can cast reflections and reveal deep shadows as well as illuminate. Had I become a portrait of myself over my years? Beautiful, yet static and easily damaged without cautious handling. My sire once said that only the dead remain still. Luca was suffering but indeed alive. Was I even alive?

Silence sat between us as we stared at one another.

“See you Tuesday.” I said.

>>23358766
I dropped your critique from the first sentence.

>>23340727
>beloved north capital fortress
Is the only thing that's verbose.
As for the asterisks they should be incorporated into the rest of the novella's narrative or forgone entirely.

>>23341099
I am going to be honest anon. I have read the available sample and its not looking good. The dialogue comes across as autistic. People just don't talk like that. The 14-year old is talking like a 4chan regular, 'one could argue', 'i am already ready to take into considerations' etc. Meanwhile, the father responds by telling her to cut the bullshit almost like she is his buddy at work?? Also, there's too much telling, you need to show this in the dialogue or be more subtle. You shouldn't have waited till the book was published to get a review, there are plenty of sites like fiverr that have native speakers who could have reviewed this before you published. The ideas seem good but the delivery is subpar and screams to your readers that you are an esl. You could have described the first sentence by including details that show how expansive new canaan is instead of telling and denying us the payoff and wonder of finding out.

>>23377576
Lame idea desu

>>23374186
i love shit like this, weird shit that is goofy and fun but also rooted in the most realistic horror that exists. i had a stroke once and it was the scariest moment of my life. they're no fucking joke dude thats your brain, like you live in there.

10/10

>>23341099
Use the money you pay for 4chan advertisement to pay for an editor, then republish as the 2nd edition. Nobody is going to read this slop as it is. Or just publish in your native language.

So I'm writing a story about a tribe that can create radioactive dust and bend it like Sandbenders from Avatar, how is this description of the aftermath of their attacks?

Thorik scowled as he watched the mage examine the bodies through his orb. "Why can't we just look at them normally?"

The mage, greying in his brown beard, shook his head, "There is a miasma in them. One that poisons and corrodes the body. We can't see it, but if you get too close to them, you will feel it."

The gruff general leaned and looked deeper at the orb. The bodies were indeed gruesome- the intact ones were still covered in white scorch marks, with dried blood encrusting numerous ulcers. One in particular, face unburnt, had streaks of scabs descending from his swollen eyes.

"Some look poisoned, aye. But miasma? Those horn-heads throw burning hot sand at us, not venom," Thorik said, skepticism apparent.

Frowning further, the mage motioned with his hands, and the vision in the orb moved. Another set of bodies were shown, ones that were more intact, next to a corpse with much of it's face melted like wax. Bile rose in Thorik's throat. He had seen bodies before, even ones burnt to near ash by mages, but nothing like this.

"Those men were burying and performing rites for their fallen friend there. I believe they took a wineskin that he always carried and shared it among themselves. The next day bloody sores opened all over them, and they started vomiting blood. Whatever that hot sand is, it's toxic, and it can last."

Thorik rubbed his furry chin in thought. "Some of them throw violet sand instead of blue. D'you think that has something to do with it?"

The mage looked up at him. "You've seen a rainbow before, haven't you, General?"

(that's all I have at the moment)

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>>23373333
>I dunno what spork is
Pic related

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>>23340717
>about some professor who realizes he wasted his life while suffering in the mediocrity of the academic life

And to think this wasn't an unexpected turn of fate(events?) that had decided he was to be struck by a wave of lethargic sadness. He had foreseen it long ago. His vision wasn't very clear in the beginning but with each passing year, the viewfinder was becoming more and more sharp, the outlines taking a concrete form as if God was slowly nudging on the focus ring and whispering "Look where you going".
The window was in front of him but he refused to take a good look, because he knew that he would hate the view.
Unfortunately for his past self, just by virtue of the restless nature of the human mind one cannot keep his inner eyes forever from laying upon a particular image, especially when that image was a logical extension of his life so far, a projection of his daily routine into the future.

And so horrible visions of depression and bitter melancholy came and went. The kind of melancholy that is accompanied by stress and restlessness for it is a longing for days past, which, while irreversibly over, the tasks that were supposed to be finished then, haven't.
It was the need to measure how long a task or activity, natural or human, take, that necessitated the invention of time.
And as such, a day can be defined by the work that needs to be done before it's over. Without an activity to fill the day it remains undefined, like a corpse with no spirit to occupy it. But when man chooses a task or, as it's mostly the case, the task is imposed upon him, he breathes new life into the corpse and the day springs up in front of him, full of emotion, good or bad. But one thing is for certain: it is no longer without essence.
If the spirit of a day is not put to rest before the sun croses the horizon it will forever linger in the ether and occasionally descend like a demon upon the one who brought it to life, and the torment will begin. The more days left unfinished the bigger the swarms of immaterial crows, the otherworldly debt collectors knocking on the door of one's mind to demand what can't be repaid.

Such were his thoughts even though he didn't exactly think of ethereal crows and well dressed men equipped with good manners and predatory intent. When under stress his mind didn't produce anything of any poetic merit, and maybe that's why he hadn't ever made anything worth reading.
Exposed to the heat of depression all pretense of artistry and refinement was dropped like a mask that becomes to uncomfortable to wear once the temperature passes a certain threshold.

1/2

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>>23383955
2/2
>he is sitting on the bus

The bus rode on, every stop accompanied by a exchange of passengers and that mildly mysterious hissing sound.
The voice announcing the name of his stop always stirred up a curious temptation in him, to remain seated and ride all the way to the last stop. The warn seat and the view as if inviting him on a journey, competing with the voice of reason telling him to just go home , gave his tired body the much desired relaxation.

The suspension worked tirelessly at abstracting the chaotic nature of the road from the rest the vehicle, hiding the ugliness of the tarmac rolling underneath from the passengers. Bequeathed by eigenfrequencies whispered to it by its creators, frequencies of which none of its natural predators may know, (for if they did, destruction would be unavoidable), it fought enemies of Man and Bus, asphalt and its irregularities, nature and uncertainty. The vibrations of the windows and the whole structure spelled out in a rhythm eerily syncopated, the futility of this(the) conflict, and the sounds of struggle betrayed the hubris of the engineer.

I kinda know these two paragraphs don't go together too well but I like them.

I write everything in notepad so sorry if the spaces arent there. FYI this paragraph is exposition, and is meant to be from the perspective of some who is only somewhat intelligent. Hence the abnormalities in word choice.

Animal rape porn was popular these days. It plastered the front page of every pornography website you could find on Google. The animal being some woman (usually some girl in an "abusive" relationship) and a man (anyone), engaging in rough forced sex and mutilation, in which the man (predator) "rapes" the woman (the animal), and typically ends up scarring her via burns, slashing, or whatever, which is the most important part. The sex wasnt the most important part, the fun came from watching the girl (or boy) on the bottom get hurt, and from pretending you were fucking an animal. The top video in the category had about 300 or so million views on Pornhub, and it had been a mainstay category for years

>>23384849
Stop writing, you irredeemable retard.

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>>23340717
I woke up yesterday with the mad urge to write about fucking monsters at 4 AM. Let me know what you think of this abomination I typed so far:

1/2

I fuck monsters. I am the monster-fucker. Monster girls that is. Some more monster, some more girl. Just woke up one day in some strange land and started to fuck monster girls. I guess it was monster girl land. I have heaps of them, they all live with me in a castle. Yes, a castle. A castle full of monster girls that I fuck. I can’t even count on my fingers how many I have in there. More than ten. I found the castle whilst wandering this land. It was empty. Thought I’d live in it. All the monster girls live in there in one big monster harem. I fuck them. All different kinds of monster girls. The first monster girl I fucked was an arachne. I was resting in a cave before I found the castle and this big arachne with 8 legs and pedipalps where the girl legs were meant to be came scuttling over from a hole somewhere. She had white hair, eight eye on her face, and huge tits. She pinned me down and threatened me. She wanted to breed. I agreed. She was surprised at how quick I responded in the positive. We fucked. She wrapped her pedipalps around my waist as I plunged balls-deep in her arachnussy. I came I her womb. I also sucked her tits. Of course I sucked her tits. I suck the tits of every monster girl I fuck. I drink the milk. Her milk tasted tangy-sweet and I sucked and sucked like a baby whilst she stroked my head and whispered “ara-ara” in my ear. We slept on a bed made of her own silk webbing and she snuggled in my arms. I could see my residual cum dripping from her pussy and running down her big spider-abdomen. She asked If I wanted to marry her. I said yes. Now she is my wife. One of my wives. I have tonnes now.

It was after this we found the castle. All empty. A bit dusty, but otherwise fine. She set about cleaning it in a maid-suit that she weaved herself. Only a couple days later she gave birth to a litter of spawn. My spawn. They were part arachne and they all huddled together to their mother and she called me over and asked me to name them. I named them all. All 25 of them. They crawl around the castle now playing and spinning their webs in the corners. Some of them look like me a little. The next monster I fucked was a medusa.

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>>23386182
2/2
She has light green skin and some scales and hair full of snakes. I was out having a walk outside and she just came upon me holding some glasses and told me to put them on. Apparently they stopped me from turning to stone. She looked at me with golden snake-eyes and asked if I wanted to mate with her. I said I already fucked a spider and she said that in this land I could fuck any and every monster girl I like. Polygamy. Fuck it I said. Then she snatched the glasses from my face and stared into my eyes. I turned to stone. As in, my dick turned to stone. Stone hard. Immediately. We fucked and fucked and I came into her medusussy and I also fucked her tits and came over her chest and face. She slurped up my seed like some drunk lizard and swallowed it and said she loves the taste. I sucked her tits. Of course I sucked her tits. The milk was warm and it spurted from her nipples like a jet and I suckled and suckled until both her tits were empty and sat and lay next to her on the grass and she told me to save some for the children. Now I had two wives. Two monster wives that I fuck. The first of many.

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>>23386182
>>23386199
Fuck it I wrote some more:

Have you ever fucked a Yautja? I mean a Predator. A female Predator. Ever fucked a female Yautja Predator who is 2 feet taller than you? I have. I fucked one. I went on an expedition with my arachne and medusa wife through a jungle. It was fucking ages away from where I live. Don’t know why I went there. Maybe it was jungle fever. I heard clicking up in the trees and all of a sudden I felt a weight on my chest and this fucking Predator was standing on top of me. She had enormous fucking tits and fishnets all over her body for some reason. And her thighs. She had thighs that put an hourglass to shame. I flipped her over and wrestled with her and soon I had overcome her strength and had a knife to her throat. She started shivering all over her body. Was she having a fucking orgasm? My two wives were just watching the whole time. I think the medusa might have even been schlicking it. She had her scaly fingers down her panties after all. I sniffed them later on to make sure. Fucking dirty little minx. Anyways this Yautja female flipped me over again and drew a circular blade and sliced open my pants. My cock flopped out like some flacid serpent and slapped about and eventually hardened in the heat and the sweat and the weight of this alien huntress sitting on top of me. She ripped off her leather midriff-top and her boobs exploded out like Oppenheimer. Big greenish tits with stripes and mottled as well. Not the same green as medusa tits though. More of a green-brown than a leaf-green. I fucked her right there on the floor of the jungle. Didn’t even take any notice of my wives giggling behind me. What’s so funny bitches? The predator sluts pussy walls were like vices against my shaft. She probably could have flattened my dick with those cunt-muscles alone. I came in her snatch and she ripped off her mask and we proceeded to French-kiss. Mandibles and all. It was hot. After this I started to suck her tits. Of course I sucked her fucking tits. Why would you miss that opportunity? They are there to be sucked. Until they were empty. Took almost an hour to drain both her monstrous breasts. That milk though. Sweet. A hint of….lime? Lemon? Something citric. Reminded me a little of those lime-vanilla ice creams you get in the freezer aisle. It was very slightly green too, the milk. The milk from the yautja girls tits. Gotta remember to stock up on more of her tit milk later on. I have fridges full of tit-milk. All different kinds. All labelled. Meticulously. I fuck monsters and I suck tits.

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>>23340717
This is the opening line for the novel I've been working on. Would like to hear your guys's feedback first and then I'll explain what my intention with it was to see if you guys can help me make it better:

On this breezy autumn day, where nothing would ever be the same for the island of Naruan, the early morning sun shined down on the tree-lined roads and hills of Montso. There was a smell of rain and wet earth in the air, and the villagers, ready to start their day and its labors, began to fill the small roads greeting each other with an air of anticipation. The gossipy housewives and farmers alike talked as if some great procession was to come to the hillside where Montso stood, as if the island’s governor himself would come out of the Capitol and into their little haven and dance with the locals.
What made this autumn day different from every other that came before was a festivity. It was not the Yearsending Fest, which was still months away and due winter. The festivity that was anticipated in this remote community was a wedding, and whenever a villager was betrothed, it was yet another reason and excuse for the villagers to drink and dance and laugh. Sariana Petalia was to get married, a girl who had left with her family a few years before, after the hurricane named Dalia had scoured Naruan. Not all of the villagers received the invitation letter but it might as well have been sent through fireworks, for it was only a couple of hours past sunrise and all knew.

>>23388925
>shined
shone

Too much telling about the wedding. You can show this by focusing on characters, their dialogues, their thoughts, or just by describing church bells ringing on a weekday, a host of churchgoers dressed in white, decorations and well wishing in the village shops, etc, Don't tell us there is a wedding, show it to us, introduce the village characters, describe the town's layout, etc.

>>23388952
thanks anon. Well, a few things. Here's what I was trying to convey:

The wedding isn't happening until the spring, a few months away from where the novel starts. What I wanted to do was just set the scene of local villagers gossiping and showing how fast the rumor spread, not so much that they were getting ready for the wedding itself.

I also wanted to make the entry a bit comfy, sort of like a fairy tale-like introduction before the shit hits the fan.

That being said, what could I do with that info to make it better?

>>23388969
All the advice is in there. Introduce your characters and have them move your story, that's the only way it will feel comfy; reduce the usage of open descriptions and start using characters for that. You could start by using the perspective of a milkman/newspaper man/veterinarian/housewife who goes through the entire village in the morning and meets everyone, etc, that way it feels more personal, more down to earth.

>>23341599
I know it's a buzzword but this genuinely sounds ESL. Cruelty inflicted by her own metabolisms was the most striking example on the first read through. Uncanny and stilted phrasing.

>>23346272
Splitting the threads was a mistake

As I always looked through multiple panes of tempered glass towards the boundless nothingness.
The rings of Saturn shimmering cameilla pink planted in fresh soil in the view.
An object of visible closeness emerges from the emptyness.
Moving parralel to the craft in space it appears to increase in size.
As it lenghtens the inception remains still as plane cut of spacetime in infinitemal with.
Flowing through, different parts of its infolding non homogenous parts dances within every possible geometric shape with countless corners.
For a while it is with no beginning.
Then it disappears for an end that isnt.
Once in a timeline experience.


Trying to explain some sci-fi thing I imagined in the shower. Not nececssarily intended to be verse

I need some critique on a villain.
Their entire motivation is one that hinges on them being a paper tiger/house of cards in a weird and petty way.
>Clan of Chinese martial artists and whatnot. Blah blah blah, we've seen this before. Use a scary-ass style that can best be described, but are known for all being EXTREMELY zen and calm, which is how they're so formidable
>One of their ilk, the best of the best, decides to seek out a powerful warrior woman he can have kids with
>Finds her. A 6'4, 175 pound flat-out Amazonian who's a god damn superhuman beast of a fighter
>Blah blah blah, gets rejected because she doesn't like him, takes it in stride because he guesses he simply wasn't up to her standards, continues training.
>Later finds out that she DID have kids. With a middle of the road barely legal bantamweight boxer
>Boxer later manages to defeat him in combat by sheer endurance
>Gets slightly offset by this, seethes with rage over his zen being broken a bit
>Decides to somehow use pseudo-cultivation bullshit to not age or some immortal bullshit like reincarnation just so he can torment the couple's descendants.
>All because they sort of ruined his vibe
This man decides to swear a generational feud not because of any sort of "Honor" or "Tradition" but over someone slightly disrupting his Zen.
That's funny in my opinion.

>>23389580
>>23390052
If you want critique then critique some other anons first.

>>23389065
Lots of thanks my dude

>>23390077
but im bad at it

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13 KB JPG

>>23390124
Wow then maybe you could use some practice.

bump

My critique is that this thread sucks.

>>23391559
Why'd you bump it, then?

>over 5 blatent bumps providing NOTHING to the thread
This was clearly a failure
Let this general die naturally