Um, did anyone ever look at my story? I posted a link on the last page. Here it is again
.
*hrrrrrk*
What's TLC?
What's the point of this Hogan guy? He's a caricature of annoyingness.
Oic.
Well that turned out sweet.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am...
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]"){kind=icon}
Showed up.
Other than that, I dunno. It's a very small piece, and I couldn't find anything remarkable about it, good or bad. Hogan does seem like he could easily be a very annoying character, but I can't judge him with just this. Anita hasn't shown any personality yet, and the whole thing is just one dialog.
(And yeah, what is TLC supposed to mean?)
edited 31st Oct '11 12:16:30 PM by Dealan
Hello, everyone. This is actually my first time posting on the forums, so... is it alright if my piece gets reviewed here?
It was when I met you.
You saved me; helped me break through the chains that were wound so tightly against me I couldn't draw breath. You cared for me, even willing enough to give me a name, for I didn't have one, being born alone.
Years passed and we grew close. My bond with you became stronger, my affection turned into something greater, but it was not definite. You were the only one whom I spent nearly all my free time with; I didn't know what to compare it to.
I relished the time we had, when I'd be so fortunate as to run my hands through your hair, or be so lucky as to hold the honor to walk next to you, lacing my fingers with yours.
Time is a cruel taskmaster.
We became adults, and it was then I knew that what we had, we'll never have again.
You buried yourself in your work, tuning out the outside world, its people, its beauty, everything.
Even me.
We started to drift apart. It wasn't subtle, but it wasn't obvious either.
Every time you would pick me up, kiss me, spin me around, the knife would dig deeper in my heart, breaking it slowly, painfully, killing me on the inside because I know it's not real.
I know you'd never act that way if things didn't turn out the way you wanted them to.
Whenever I'd walk past your door, whether it'd be left open by accident—oh, how I wished you'd invite me in, asking me how my day went, telling me about yours—I'd see you, hunched over your desk that was cluttered with miscellaneous objects.
Your hair mussed up, your eyes focused on nothing but what lay in front of you, papers violated by innumerable scribbles, formulas, predictions.
A larger-than-life blueprint hung on the wall, directly across my line of vision.
I couldn't comprehend its meaning, but it must be of great significance to you, for the entire wall was empty save for it, specially dedicated.
You looked so tired; I wanted nothing more than to come in and massage your shoulders, to alleviate your pain, to ease your stress, to wash your disappointment away.
But that would never happen. I respected your privacy, and I'd never cross the invisible line, no matter how thick or thin.
What really hits home is whenever you'd raise your head, and your eyes come to rest on me. Our pupils would meet, but I know, that you're not really seeing me. Yours are glazed over, as if there was something more important than the person whom you are directing your gaze at, whether it was voluntary or not.
Something is important to you. And it's not me.
That much I know.
I missed your touch, the feel of your skin on mine.
Call me masochistic, but I am willing to do anything to regain your touch, your regard, your acknowledgement. I would even wordlessly endure a brutal strike from you, in your anger, your distress, and your dissatisfaction.
But you'd never hit me.
You choose the worst way. It's the kind where one begins to lose the will to live.
You choose indifference.
What was once precious to you, turned into something one would find on the bottom of one's shoe, useless, filthy, unneeded.
What happened to you that made you change?
I ask myself that question every day since your transformation. I'd never ask you, for I'd know that you'd never tell me the truth.
A long time ago, you said you'd always be there for me.
Where are you now?
Your body is here, it's living, breathing, functioning, but where is your heart? Your mind? Your spirit?
You also said that I'd be the driving force that keeps you going.
Is that my purpose still?
How do I know you're not lying to me?
Now, when I look into your eyes, I see something that took my place—although I'm not sure I had one to begin with.
Now, when I speak to you, I do it in a way that doesn't raise your temper, I know first-hand how volatile you can be since then.
Now, when you speak to me, it pains me to hear your words soaked in poisoned honey; I desperately need sustenance, but I am unsure whether or not to accept the devil's fruit that's being offered to me.
One, I could continue to live, albeit living a half-life, but I'd still be with you.
On the other hand, I am released from my chains, given a chance at freedom, but I'd be away from you, the one who conquered my darkness.
Saving my life, I am forever indebted to you.
I somehow doubt that my debt would be repaid until my existence is given in exchange for yours.
Will you miss me when I'm gone?
I am not certain if I want to hear the honest answer, especially not the half-truths and half lies you deem necessary to feed me.
And now, as I gaze at your face drenched in red, your hand piercing my flesh, soaking it in the liquid of life, my life, I feel compelled to let you know what I have endured for the past years.
You don't even shake; you are still, gripping me with such an easy, casual air.
Your hair, matted by my blood, fall gracefully in your face, framing the very image that haunts my every dream.
Your eyes, discernible underneath the black and red, gleam with something unusual, but not unfamiliar to me.
It's the same look I see you with whenever things are going according to plan.
I stumble, my chest heaving, my heart hurriedly pumping in order to keep me alive.
My eyes feel too heavy to open, and I silently admit defeat.
The shadow that you saved me from, all those forgotten years ago, returns with grandeur, slowly consuming me until I am no longer breathing.
You didn't catch me as I fall.
In the clouds, I look down in time to see you wipe your hand clean, pocket it, and stand still, staring at my corpse, a dent where you had struck me, right where my heart used to be.
As I look into your eyes once more, my heart shatters for the last time.
They are glazed over.
"It's not that he doesn't love you; you'll just always come in second."
I'm sorry if it's long. If any of you don't mind, I'd love some feedback.
edited 31st Oct '11 5:02:44 PM by DL
Feel free to look around.
Merlo, Dealan: I don't know what TLC means. I was originally going to use R&R (Rest and Relaxtion), but I thought TLC might be better.
So you both thought Hogan was annoying? 
I was trying to paint him as a Cloud Cuckoolander. I guess I tried a bit too hard, though.
...Do you think it would help if he lost the puppets?
*hrrrrrk*
Cloud Cuckoolanders tend to annoy me, so maybe that's it.
All the "why" questions were more annoying than the puppets, really. That's the part that really struck me as caricature-like.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am...
I can't say he is exactly annoying yet. It was only a single scene after all. But he seems to act like a five year old, which isn't so much eccentric as it is annoying. If he's constantly like that, I wouldn't like him as a character.
And (ninjaed) I agree, the questions were what really ticked me off.
*hrrrrrk*
@ DL: It's not long at all, don't worry about it.
Initially I was kinda like "oh look more emo teen stuff", but then it got seriously weird and creepy, and your narrator went from "eh kinda whiny" to "get on medication and stay the hell away from me". Not sure if this was your intention. And then the ending happened and I thought "wtf".
I will say that I'm extremely interested in what your narrator's loved one is doing, I had a WMG that they're Victor Frankenstein. Not sure if the ending was supposed to be literal or metaphorical.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am...
Dealan: Well, I suppose there are other ways to portray him as eccentric without making him act like a five year old...
Patworx
Here's a little something I'm working on. I hope some of you are Dragon Ball fans:
There's five chapters so far, but none of them are very long. Tell me what you think!
edited 1st Nov '11 12:54:55 PM by Patworx
Obsidian Proboscidean
So it doesn't get buried: here it is again. I think I really only need help with the first two or three chapters.
original post: here.
edited 1st Nov '11 2:12:35 PM by BlackElephant
I'm an elephant. Rurr.
AHR: Nicely done. Might be a bit too detailed, actually, but might not be. Generally, I only decide how I'm going to break up the balloons once I get to lettering, but if you want to do it that way there's no problem. I wouldn't recommend using captions for the signs, either - they stick out. I'd just make the signs bilingual.
Someone mind telling me how I can improve this entry on my wiki?
@ Merlo: Actually, at the time of writing I didn't intend for the narrator to turn out creepy. It's interesting that you viewed it that way, though.
Feel free to look around.
Lucha Libre goddess
hey what's up I would like a critique on this story (ignoring the bad grammar). I think it is the last story I will write in a long time because I want to focus on my main passion that is drawing :D
Thanks for your time!
edited 2nd Nov '11 8:05:15 PM by FallenLegend
Make your hearth shine through the darkest night; let it transform hate into kindness, evil into justice, and loneliness into love.
I'd do it, but Free Text Host is bloxored here. Mind just posting it in a [quoteblock]?
Lucha Libre goddess
I think it might be a bit too long for that But I have a google docs version.
Thanks for your time!
The fairy and the slave google docs version
It's not very good, but here it is.
Right, ignoring the grammar, spelling, and punctuation mistakes because damn.
...
I'd hit it.
"It was a good star. What a terrible way to explode."
Okay, fairy princess == space Jesus. Got it.
Yay Earth!
Hmm... Too many... elipses... I think... maybe...
Well, this is just downright raunchy.
I dunno. Something feels wrong about these internal monologue sections.
Oh, she's touching her chest. Change that line two quoteblocks up so people don't think she's doing something dirty.
Tit mania?
Hmm... Maybe you should describe the jewlery instead of just saying "SHE WHERES LOTSA JOOLRI LOL".
Vanish-a has gender identity issues.
Hey, what did you expect? You named her vanish-a.
Also, fairy queen == SHODAN.
This bit here feels unnecessary. I can tell she's not going to sound warm and bubbly when she's saying "WORSHIP ME INSECT" to someone.
“I wanted to explore the universe...Anyway where is everyone else?. Our kingdom looks a bit empty, I only saw a handful of others in my way here.”
She doesn't really sound scared here. Show, don't tell. Or at least don't contradict yourself.
Remove the last sentence.
Sounds like you're either telling instead of showing or just contradicting yourself again. How is letting them mess with humans on earth treating them like servants?
“Mother I...”
“I am your queen first. Know your place”
What a bitch.
How'd she know? And how is chest pain a weakness anyway? And how is a punishment going to help with that? Also, the "the queen said" is probably not neccecarry on the end there. I can figure out who is speaking without it.
It was just on a whim.
"Man, there is just NOTHING to do around here." "Yeah, hey, let's go fuck up Egypt." "Hey, cool idea bro, yeah!"
Well that wasn't a very fairy-princess thing to do. Couldn't she have done something a little less destructive?
I guess the fairy princess is supposed to be a bit of a bitch too?
Well, that's probably not the way to go about it. Can't she alter her appearance or something?
Oh shit, it's Queen Bitch! And she's pissed! Why'd she wait a month?
How's she supposed to get back up to Fairyland?
This bit here just gave me a really strong Half-Life Full Life Consequences feeling.
Don't have much to say about the rest, other than it's pretty decent. Nice ending. Just need to fix all the technical errors.
Also, I'd like to see Queen Bitch receive her comeuppance somehow.
edited 5th Nov '11 1:30:29 PM by Schilcote
Fuzzy Orange Doomsayer
This is the entirety of a story for a flash fiction site, entitled "His Good Right Hand." I can't find anything wrong with it, but I've found that I can miss glaring errors in my own work, so I thought I ought to ask for criticism before I submitted it.
Even before Sheila opened her eyes, she knew that her right arm was gone.
Blood dripped steadily down from the IV bag, filling her, replacing what had stained the floor of the car. But the needle was stuck in her left arm, the only one that she could still feel. As she lay silent, unmoving, she remembered the truck bearing down on their ancient jalopy, remembered her side of the car crumpling like paper even as they were forced off the road.
Remembered Max calling her name in the moment before consciousness faded.
"Sheila!" he said once more, real as life. "Sheila, my god, you're alive!", and with a shock, she realized that this was not just memory. "The doctors said you'd be all right, but you looked so still . . ."
She turned her head to look at him, sitting beside her bed in a ripped-up chair that barely deserved the term "padded." With great effort, she kept her voice calm as she asked him "How long have you been waiting here?"
"I haven't been watching the clock, " he responded. "I think it must have been a while, though."
He, too, was calm, though she thought it came easier to him than to her. In front of the crowd, he clowned and joked, and many came to watch this strange "magician" perform in parks and squares. But he had always been able to keep his expression from changing when, as he demonstrated to some volunteer that he had relieved her of her earrings, that volunteer failed to notice that Sheila had relieved her of the contents of her back pocket. Even when, in some hotel room, they counted that day's take, he never frowned at the recurrent discovery that they'd made no more than enough for another hotel room and the food and gas needed to reach it.
"You're lucky to be alive," Max told her. "First the truck, then the tree . . . You're going to have a lot of scars from this." He was silent for a moment. "You already know, don't you?"
"What the Head sees, the Hand knows," she told him, echoing one of his more grandiloquent turns of phrase. "And it's the Hand's job to grasp whatever is needed. That's how we fit together—you the thinking, planning Head, and me . . . your good right Hand . . ."
His tone was neutral, but his voice was anything but. "It's hard not to beat myself up over this. The back seat didn't take much damage—I was barely scratched. I just wish I'd been driving."
"What do we do now?" she asked.
"You lie there and rest, for the moment. I don't think they can charge us if we don't have any money, but I'm not sure how soon they'll boot you out the door. Once we're out of here, we'll look into replacing the car, and we'll figure out where to go next."
"No, what do we do now? The money they threw in your hat was never enough to feed even one of us. I was always the one who made up the difference."
"We'll live. I don't know how, but we'll live. We'll find something. Some way."
"Max, you can't take care of both of us."
His expression cracked. "What are you saying?"
"I'll find something. And you'll be all right, too. You always are. But I can't let you drag me along to slow you down."
"Sheila . . . You were always the one who laughed the hardest at my jokes. Always the one who knew how to cheer me up when I was sad. Sheila, I've been relying on you for so long, and not just for money. You mean more to me than my right hand, and your right hand too."
edited 6th Nov '11 6:13:31 PM by feotakahari
That's Feo . . . He's a disgusting, mysoginistic, paedophilic asshat who moonlights as a shitty writer—Something Awful
Lucha Libre goddess
Thanks for your review I had a very good laugh. Not because your review was bad( on the contrary).But because I could laugh at my own witting
Some comments I would like to make
- Yeah you are right the fairy princess was supposed to be a bit of a jerk yeah. In fact I conceived her originally as a villain.
- lots of details were telling instead of showing because I had a word limit :/ that's a pretty bad part of my writing. The story would be double of length if I could expand in every detail I wanted.
- I didn't notice how hateful I made her mother lol. This was made for a contest and I couldn't punish her due to the world limit. But she isn't loved and is unable to love ( therefore she is unable to be happy)even a life as an omnipotent being is meaningless without love.When I draw this story I will punish her more explicitly lol.
- Glad you liked the ending :). I hope you enjoyed the story .
Thanks for your review and taking your time of reading it. I certainly learned a lot.
edited 6th Nov '11 9:54:46 AM by FallenLegend
Make your hearth shine through the darkest night; let it transform hate into kindness, evil into justice, and loneliness into love.
Patworx
Nobody replied last time, so here's my Dragon Ball Z fanfic again: [1].
Could somebody get back to me?
Uniocular
May as well get a bit of critique on the first draft of my radio play.
"It's so hard to be humble, knowing how great I am."
I might as well put up this then. It's sort of a very dark take on Author Powers, and exactly what happens when Reality Warper meets Medium Awareness. For what I'm working on at the moment, I need to be able to do this sort of horror writing well, and for that I need a critique of this.
check em
Here's part of my first chapter as requested. Sorry if it's too long, I can't post external links.
Sunlight creeps through the mansion window, painting squares of light on the wooden floor. As if synchronized with the dawn, the head maid opens the door with a creak. The gentle light shines on her neatly bound, silver hair.
She enters the regal bedroom and shuts the door behind her. With graceful, even steps, she approaches the side of the bed.
“Milady.”
The maid gently calls to the girl in the bed. “Milady” is dressed in pastel blue pajamas, poofy around the shoulders, and laced at the cuffs. Her long black hair is draped upon the bed, contrasting against the white bedding. A thin linen blanket covers her from the neck down, curving around her petite body.
“Milady Homuha. It is morning.”
The maid calls out again, slightly louder than before. “Milady Homuha” knits her eyebrows and rolls over to face away from the maid.
“If you do not wake up, your breakfast will be cold.”
“Fua…”
Homuha yawns as the maid patiently waits for a reply.
“Oh, it’s just Katsura… Five more minutes…”
“That will not do. Your father has instructed me to awaken you daily at dawn.”
“Uuu… He’s not even here so it’ll be fine…”
Homuha curls up under the blanket for warmth.
“Milady…”
Katsura has a slight frown on her face as she ponders how she will wake her master up.
“You leave me with no choice.”
Katsura takes the blanket in both hands and whisks it off the bed. Homuha’s eyes burst open in shock.
“Hey, what are you doing!? It’s really cold you know! How am I supposed to sleep without a blanket? Stupid Katsura!”
“I apologize, Milady.”
“If you’re really sorry then give me back my blanket! I’m still sleepy!”
Homuha is now sitting up, fuming with anger.
“Under your father’s orders, I cannot. Please try to understand, Milady.”
“Hmph…”
Homuha pouts and looks away, scowling at no one in particular. Suddenly, she lunges for the blanket in Katsura’s hands.
Katsura takes one step back, keeping the blanket less than an inch out of Homuha’s reach.
Bam!
Homuha face meets the hardwood floor.
“Ow!”
Homuha stands back up, on the verge of crying.
“Stupid Katsura! All I wanted was just five more minutes! Why do you have to wake me up! Why why why!”
She stomps the floor with every “why” as she throws a crying tantrum.
“Milady, please don’t cry. Your father has given me strict orders to awaken you at dawn. Please try to understand.”
“Stupid Katsura! Why does a vampire have to wake up at dawn, anyway! I should be sleeping until night time! Waaaaaaaaah!”
Stomp stomp stomp.
“Milady…”
Katsura frowns as she views her master’s crying face. She believes she is a failure of a maid if her master is unhappy.
“You leave me with no choice.”
The head maid places her hands around her master’s neck and squeezes.
“Ka.. tsura… what are…”
Homuha gags as she is lifted off of the ground by the neck.
“Milady. You must come down for breakfast.”
Katsura materializes a white sphere of light in a flash of magic circles. The devil’s face can be seen inside.
“Katsu…”
The soccer ball-sized sphere flies at Homuha as if it were shot out of a cannon.
Homuha struggles to break free. The cannonball is screaming towards her, the devil’s face laughing as it approaches for the kill. When it hits, it will surely lop off her head.
She wants to move but she can’t! She is being strangled while her feet meaninglessly dangle in the air. In the time it would take to dispel the binding magic, the cannonball would surely kill her. If she tried to nullify the cannonball with a spell of her own, her throat would be crushed before her next spell.
There’s not enough time! The cannonball is closing in. The devil is in front of Homuha’s face, ready to kiss her and remove her head.
And it goes through!
It goes through and crashes into the mansion walls and keeps going.
When the smoke clears, there is nothing in Katsura’s hands. Homuha is somewhere on the floor.
Because Homuha escaped.
“Will you come down to breakfast now?”
“No way!”
Homuha stops time once more and goes in for the counter attack. She lunges at Katsura, attempting to grab the maid’s right breast.
Katsura dispels the time stop and sidesteps the hand, keeping her eye on it as it grazes by.
Time stops again as Homuha begins another frontal assault on Katsura. Time resumes much faster than before and Katsura dodges the hand again.
“Milady, you cannot stop time for very long if you attempt it twice in quick succession.”
“What are you, a game walkthrough?”
Homuha continues her assault as before. Stop time. Explode forward. Extend hand. Get dispelled.
But when time resumes, Homuha is not where she should be.
“...!”
Katsura turns around, but it is too late.
“Stupid Katsura!”
Homuha’s hand reaches into Katsura back. Through the skin. Through the muscle. Through the rib cage.
And finally she pulls out a heart. She crushes it in her hand and it explodes in an almost comical amount of blood. Red splatters everywhere.
Homuha backs away from Katsura’s still-standing corpse. She is looking at the hole she created in Katsura.
Then, a demon howls from the hole.
The blood that covered the room is sucked back into the hole like a blood whirlpool. The wound closes itself and reveals Katsura’s bare flesh.
“Milady, what are you thinking? It will not do if I lose one of my lives so early in the morning.”
“I... I’ll kill you again if you don’t let me sleep a little longer!”
“You know that I cannot allow that.”
Something changes in the room. The air is hot and heavy, and sunlight is no longer reaching inside.
Homuha senses magical energy violently building up within Katsura. Wary of the new threat, she stops time and starts to circle around.
Katsura dispells the time stop just a second later. She points her palm at Homuha and a halo of light appears around the girl’s neck.
Homuha stops time and ducks. When time resumes, the halo instantly contracts to a ring’s size where her head once was.
Homuha is shaken by the display of power.
“!?”
Because there are dozens more halos in the room. They swarm towards Homuha at Katsura’s will.
Homuha stops time but it resumes immediately after. The halos swoop over Homuha and bind her body before forcing her to the ground.
“Milady. It is over.”
Katsura walks over to the unfortunate girl tied-up on the floor, and kneels down.
“Ka- Katsura! No! Stop! No!”
“It is time for your punishment.”
Katsura grabs Homuha’s collar and dispels her halos. She intends to punish Homuha with her bare hands.
Homuha starts crying.
“Katsura... (sniffle) I’m sorry... I’ll- (sniffle) I’ll get up on time from now on... So (sniffle) p-please don’t...”
Katsura bends her master over.
“No!”
And pulls down her master’s pants to reveal white and blue striped panties.
“Nooooo!”
And delivers a good spanking.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!”
edited 13th Nov '11 3:46:20 PM by VHC
—blanks post just in case of internet history—
edited 12th Nov '11 7:18:35 PM by MrAHR
Read my stories!