Fallen Legend: Right. Shall take out that sentence. Also, Berke wasn't trying to make Sophie jealous, he was being teased about how careful he was when cleaning his weapons. Also, also, Berke does not have a crush on Eos.
Also, the technology is modern, with specialty weapons from medieval eras. Just a plain old sniper rifle, which I shall make a note to edit later. And Berke mentions getting eye surgery to fix his vision, which is modern but not that modern as he also had glasses.
AHR: Drat. I was trying to make Tess look like the cuteness was a bad affectation. The end paragraphs were supposed to imply a deeper maturity, with her being polite enough to ask about Berke's brother rather than show off her psychic abilities. Also: Character dynamics? Hints at a magic-technology blend? You pretty much just talked about your own bias.
Also why did you both call them kids? I never mentioned ages, but they're soldiers and I also never mentioned they were soldiers. But Berke is old enough to call someone younger than him "kid".
edited 11th Apr '11 9:02:15 PM by Leradny
My bad I should have payed more attention sorry.
this phrase "-Well hey there, Tess." A gentleman would turn around completely to greet a lady no matter what he's doing, as Berke's momma told him."" ( emphasis on Momma) and the fact tht he was called "kid" gave me that wrongful impression.
Trust me it wouldn't be surprising to see a child with a gun on a fiction based story... click here
If another person confuses him as a a kid you should consider being more explicit about their age. Otherwise it may be simply our fault as readers.
edited 11th Apr '11 9:24:21 PM by FallenLegend
Make your hearth shine through the darkest night; let it transform hate into kindness, evil into justice, and loneliness into love.Not sure how many people are ahead of me, but I'm willing to wait as long as I need to.
I'm thinking about switching viewpoint characters, so I rewrote the first chapter and I want to see how that worked out. I probably still suck at emoting, but it's hopefully not a dull chapter.
edited 14th Apr '11 8:33:42 PM by snowfoxofdeath
Warm hugs and morally questionable advice given here. Prosey Bitchfest![]()
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That was the character dynamic I saw, just how Tess acted around the other guy and vice versa, which was endearingness and messing upness, with the guy being more grudgingly accepting, but still enjoying company (or something like that, I read it yesterday, memory ish fuzzy). That was the reaction I got from it. Cute character. I just mainly focused on my own bias because I felt there would be no way to back it up past "I dislike these types of characters"
edited 12th Apr '11 2:39:17 AM by MrAHR
Read my stories!Okay then. I think I've played this one out. Time to write my hero being hazed into her new country with the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Okay, I've added some stuff to the opening chapter of my fanfic so that it now has 50% more cocaine. Link
Feedback is appreciated. I want to get this chapter right. Also, I am open to changing from first to third tense if too many are distracted by it, though this is the only time I'll use it in this story.
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2805385/Since the thread for it is just about dead, I was hoping for some critique on my Fanfic
More annoying story fragments! :P
“It was all pointless.” Xavier muttered. The things he’d done, the life he’d lived. All of it was pointless. A sick, meaningless joke.
Rain pitter-pattered against the windowsill, staining it black. His bed offered a simple comfort, but even its warmth could not detract from the growing crack in the sky. It pulsed with a grotesque darkness like the rain that fell from it and filled his world. Day by day, perhaps, but it was growing. Eventually it would fall from the sky and swallow his world.
His world… He turned away from the window and curled up in a ball beneath the sheets. He’d begun to assume it was true. No one else could see it, the stark black oblivion hanging off the gates of heaven. But he could. He wished he couldn’t. Visually speaking, it was nothing much to look at. Just a smear of black across the sky. But there was a certain menace underlying its simple appearance. It was possessed of a simple unreality, as if looking at it could erase your entire existence.
His head started to pound. Every damn time he thought about it. The pain made him ball up even tighter, head held to his chest. He couldn’t do this anymore.
The pain subsiding, he slid out of bed, taking his sheets with him. He stumbled over to his closet. The closet, filled with suits, inspired only melancholy. Today wasn’t a suit day. He reached past the suits, past the empty orange pill bottles and groped for an unassuming shoebox that lay on the top shelf. He lifted it out and placed it gently on the bed. He sat down next to the box, looking at it for a good two minutes before opening it. He removed the .357 magnum with reverence.
The cartridge slid out smoothly. Six chambers. Six bullets. The cartridge clicked back into place, the hammer locking into position. Xavier pressed the gun to his head, an inch left and above his right ear. His index finger hovered above the trigger, sweaty and trembling.
I don’t want to live. But… I don’t want to die either.
He gasped for air, panting. He couldn’t do it this way. He was nervous, hesitant even, and there was little room for error. He’d seen pictures of people who’d failed at this sort of thing. He did not want to be in one of those pictures.
The closet was still open, so he turned the safety back on and put the box back in the closet. He shut it. Today still wasn’t a suit day. Instead, he picked out a pair of denim jeans and a worn Green Day t-shirt, slipped them on without thinking. Next were the pills. That was important. He picked up one of the few full bottles of Zyprexa. Two pills a day, yeah right. He popped four and shoved the bottle in his pocket. Xavier knew one thing. He did not want to be lucid for this.
He gave the apartment one last, lingering look. The door clicked shut slowly and softly. No note. No notice. He clunked down the concrete staircase to the building’s front door. The buildings rose up like prison walls, trying to keep him from his escape. But he could still see it. That perfect building that was always only a few blocks away. The one he knew was there, but could never find. He walked those few impenetrable blocks with ease today. It was amazing what you could do once you’d given up. Ironic, really.
It loomed overhead. On any other day, it would’ve seemed like just another office building, but it was different today. Today it was a gate, and he was the key.
The elevator doors glowed dimly. He stepped inside the carriage, eyes pointed downwards at the coffee-stained carpet. The stain was fresh, still spreading, like the crack in the sky. He pressed the button right below fifty-one, labeled neatly and clearly “Roof”. The elevator purred in compliance, and rattled upwards.
He watched the lights rise. What is this? What am I doing? They were valid questions. He had never been the suicidal type. He’d lived his life with vigor, meeting each new challenge as it came and conquering it, building a staircase to the next task. But ever since it had appeared in the sky overhead, none of that had seemed important.
The rooftop was soaked with puddles of the black rain. The roof tiles were cracked and frayed with rain and age. He began his slow walk, each step solemn and preordained. He stepped out in front of the edge, setting his hands on the railing and looking down.
“Rest assured, the fall will kill you. But are you sure this is what you want to do?” A young white-haired woman, dressed like she’d stepped out of Victorian-era England, huddled under a small white umbrella. He clearly hadn’t taken enough of the medication. Her stare was questioning and cold, like she was more curious than concerned.
“Piss off.”
She sucked on the straw of a 48-ounce convenience store soda, slurping it down and sighing. “No need to be rude. And here I was going to help you out. I guess I’ll just leave you to your suicide fantasy then.”
Xavier clenched the railing in frustration. “Fantasy, that’s a great word for it. After all, that’s all you are.”
“Now that was simply uncalled for. I can assure you, I’m quite real. As for you…”
How do you do that? You, writing in that square thingy? Sorry for not reading; I have a very, VERY low attention span, but I'll hijack your question for a bit. Here's the part of the prologue of my story that I just finished writing. I just wrote this because some troper once said that it's better to get rid of the plot bunnies before they get out of control. And yes, I want your criticism, a lot.
I stretched and yawned loudly, after finally finishing Ms. Hoffman’s project. I looked at the clock, which told me it’s 1:00 AM and that I really should go to sleep lest I start talking about gumdrops and lollipops during the English class. I can practically feel Somnus having a tea party with a succubus upon my eyelids. Sorry you bitch, I’m too tired for dream tonight.
Boom
I didn’t really have to finish it by tonight, though, since the project isn’t due next week. I just didn’t feel like sleeping. After all you know what they say, sleep is a brother of death. There wouldn’t be any idiotic way to go than just lying down and pooooosh, you’re dead. That’s not happening to me.
Boom.
I saved the Excel and Word files, turned the computer off, I jumped straight into the bed from my chair. It’s kind of easy when you have a small room like me. I covered myself with the blanket and closed my eyes, hoping for another ordinary day and hopefully without any non-sequitors. I tend to do that when I dose off, apparently.
Boom.
No, Allen. That’s just your imagination. Just go to sleep.
RATATATATA
That sounds suspiciously like AK-47. Apparently somebody has played GTA too much. Somebody call a damned police, I’m trying to sleep here, for chrissake. I covered my head up, trying to block out the sound altogether. But for some reason, I had this extremely nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, the sound is…
BOOM.
…getting closer to me. No, I will not. I will not check the sound out. No way in hell, I’m more intelligent than an average cat and will stay inside this blanket until that sound ends. That sounds like a good plan, let’s do that.
KA-KEEEEE!
Oh, for the love of, what the hell is that thing! I found myself walking toward the window and opening the curtain, just to see what all this ruckus is about. In a retrospect, it was a pretty idiot and all that minimum self restraint I had placed on me for barely a minute went down to drain, but really I couldn’t help it.
The funny part was when I looked outside, there was nothing.
Nothing, absolutely nothing. There’s no gun trotting and bomb throwing retards who flips cars around for the hell of it much contrary to my expectation. Am I supposed to be relieved or spooked out by this? Hmm, I’m not hearing any sound now, so if I just close the curtain and go back to the bed, it wouldn’t matter. I will just go with the latter and maybe report this to the police, if nobody did first. Good. Let’s just close that curtain, and go back to the bed and the chances are, I’ll forget everything about this within few hours.
Well, that’s what I would’ve done.
As soon as I turned my back (how foolish of me, I should’ve walked backward very slowly), a figure completely dressed in black blasted into my room through the window. He was covering his face, probably to cover it from shards of glasses (that douchebag will have to fix that window) and crash landed on my bed. I took a deep breath and said what any other sane mortal would say in my situation.
“What the hell?”
He (for the sake of convenience) flinched and turned his face to my direction. I really wish that he didn’t because I don’t have a whole lot of spare pants. Seriously, who the hell wears that damned white bird mask with ridiculous long beak nowadays? What is he, a fucking plague doctor? Other than the mask, though, he was wearing a black longcoat made of unrecognizable fabric and no hat. He was at the very least six and half feet tall with messy (presumably) black hair with some hint of gray. His built screamed of murder and there was no doubt that the coat he’s wearing is hiding much more muscles. I couldn’t stare straight at his face. Damn it, why is he staring at me like that? Guess he’s either the shy type or smelling my fear.
I put my hands up and slowly walked away from him, to the direction of the door. Don’t break the eye contact, he might attack me. When my hand barely managed to touch the doorknob there was once again, the sound of a machine gun going off. He turned his head like a predatory bird. I took the chance and swung open the door and tried to run out. Then he jumped down from the bed and with a big and quick step, covered the not-so-long distance between us. I would’ve screamed like a little girl had it not been for what came after that.
He grabbed by my head and threw me outside the same window he came through. The night air certainly feels more stranger if you are falling from two stories high. I don’t know what to say to that. Well, I do know what to scream though.
After somehow managing a short chain of curses, I felt on what assumed to be on the roof of my dad’s car with a loud crash. Where’s the pai-oh god there it is! Damn it, my back! I rolled on the roof and with a grace of a ballerina fell off of it and landed on my face. And I’m not even drunk. I barely stood up, supporting my body against the car. The car’s roof has some really noticeable dent on it. I’m really surprised that my spine is not broken. Then again, looking at the condition of the car, it soon will be.
I looked around, try to see that crazy son of a bitch is around me. I looked at the window but he wasn’t there either. He’s either still inside the house or out here and I’m just not seeing him. Whichever it is, I can’t just stay here, can I?
“Stay.”
A hand pulled me down and I fell on the ground my face first, again. Apparently I can. I tried to find the source of the sound then found it, hiding behind the same car I just dented. For some reason I didn’t see it when I fell. It was another figure with the black coat and the bird mask, and this one was holding a bow. My demand for explanation had to wait due to another machine gun rounds, this time breaking the windows. Hey Mr. Maniac, you don’t mind if I blame everything happened to the car on you, do you?
“Ah, damn it!”
That’s my line, but the hell with it, we can share. Judging by the voice, the figure seemed to be a girl. I inspected her body and indeed, she didn’t have a very large figure, unlike that gentleman who threw me down here. You know what, I might just die here and if I do, I much rather do that after knowing why.
“What’s going on?”
I asked as quietly as I could. She just blinked at me and if it hadn’t been for the mask, I think I could’ve seen here face in a mutual confusion. A moment of awkwardness passed and she took the initiatives.
“Well, do you want the long one or the short one?”
“Short.”
“We’re boned. Yes, you too.”
…Oh really. That’s too bad because I thought I won a lottery. Fortunately enough, she isn’t trying to kill me like that guy who apparently just disappeared.
“That’s new. Why?”
Another rounds of the machine gun. Three times the charm, no?
“Uhm, I don’t know what’s going on right now, so stop asking me!”
It was out of half irritation and half fear. Well, guess you got yourself a lower place in my “Person Who Might Just Kill Me” list. The ones that are on the top, though, seemed to be a bit more determined in killing and now keeps on firing and I can feel the bullets ricocheting the car. Thanks god for the brand new car! I raised my head just a bit too look around. In a careful inspection, I recognized two figures down the road, also hiding behind a car. I can’t quite tell, but I think they are indeed using AK-47. Can’t believe that this town won the Best Place To Retire award last year.
“God damn it, stop shooting you pricks!”
Glad we have an agreement. The girl opened one of her hands and created a blue fire, or at least that’s how it appeared, and formed it into a shape of an arrow and loaded it to her bow. She took a short breath and stood up from her cover and fired the arrow which left a blue trail in the air. The arrow flew, tearing through the air in an admittedly very satisfyingly clear sound and hit the car that they are shooting from behind, which exploded in brilliant blue fire. So that’s where that booming sound came from! Unfortunately, the two figures were already swiftly moving away from the burning car, which didn’t go unnoticed by the neurotic girl.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
She quickly loaded and fired another shot at one of the figure. He quickly crouched and the arrow flew just above his head, and this time it hit Mr. Johnson’s mail box. If I remember correctly that was about 9001 times he had his mailbox vandalized, By now, the archer girl was scratching her head like crazy, muttering about wanting to kill the shooters in slow and painful death. I shook my head and pulled the girl by the back of her collar back to the shield that was formerly my dad’s brand new car (I’m not responsible!), making her fall on her back hard on the process.
“What was that for?”
And here I was actually expecting them to fire some more so I can say “That” to her face. Doesn’t matter that much anyways now, though. Why the hell isn’t the police coming? Surely someone must have called them by now! This situation just doesn’t make any sense and I don’t think I’m insane enough to survive.
edited 14th Apr '11 7:03:26 AM by dRoy
Continuously reading, studying, and (hopefully) growing.^ Use [quoteblock](text here)[/quoteblock], but with double brackets. For some reason, the code disable thing doesn't work on quoteblock.
edited 14th Apr '11 12:30:00 AM by Jackerel
Was Jack Mackerel. | i rite gudYo. Kspam. Read your thingy.
So, yeah, I mean nothing personal, these are just my opinions.
You don't move that fast, but you're not really moving at a good pace. You are being a good little writer, reporting emotions, reporting trauma, but it's all superficial. You need to let them be wallowed in.
Now, since you probably don't have a natural talent to do this, it's gonna be a bitch to do. You're gonna have to write something up, put it away for a couple of days until it becomes vague in your head, reread it, and rewrite it, putting emphasis on where you feel it was missing.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
MAYBE it's just the lack of context, but as a whole, I really didn't get much out of the excursion. I could tell you were trying, and going through the proper formula, but kinda in an Ikea Erotica sort of way.
Unfortunately I can't really provide direct sources to good angst because most of the stuff I read is rather NSFW in nature.
Oh, and the first spoken line seems REALLY redundant, for the recs.
Read my stories!d roy, dude.
Tense change. Pick one and stick to it.
Also, the voice of the narrator is REALLY weak, especially since lack of grammar actually can make things lose a bit of their inflections. Commas are like your friend. Commas are, like, your friend. Y'know?
Oh, and you might wanna pull back on the onomatopoeias.
edited 14th Apr '11 2:26:43 PM by MrAHR
Read my stories!Finally, I saw her. I saw her through the glass part of the door. The reason I saw her, she had my crazy hunting hat on - you could see that hat about ten miles away.
I went out the doors and started down these stone stairs to meet her. The thing I couldn't understand, she had this big suitcase with her. She was just coming across Fifth Avenue, and she was dragging this big suitcase with her. She could hardly drag it. When I got up closer, I saw it was my old suitcase, the one I used to use when I was at Swindon. I couldn't figure out what the hell she was doing with it.
"Hi," she said when she got up close. She was all out of breath from that suitcase.
"I thought maybe you weren't coming," I said. "What the hell's in that bag? I don't need anything. I'm just going the way I am. I'm not even taking the bags I got at the station. What the hellya got in there?"
She put the suitcase down. "My clothes," she said. "I'm going with you. Can I? Okay?"
"What?" I said. I almost fell over when she said that. I swear to God I did. I got sort of dizzy and I thought I was going to pass out or something again.
"I took them down the back elevator so Sarah wouldn't see me. It isn't heavy. All I have in it is two dresses and my moccasins and my underwear and socks and some other things. Feel it. It isn't heavy. Feel it once.. Can't I go with you? Raki? Can't I? Please."
"No. Shut up."
I thought I was going to pass out cold. I mean I didn't mean to tell her to shut up and all, but I thought I was going to pass out again.
"Why can't I? Please, Raki! I won't do anything - I'll just go with you, that's all! I won't even take my clothes with me if you don't want me to— I'll just take my—"
"You can't take anything. Because you're not going. I'm going alone. So shut up."
"Please, Raki. Please let me go. I'll be very, very, very— you won't even—"
"You're not going. Now, shut up! Gimme that bag," I said. I took the bag off her. I was almost all set to hit her. I thought I was going to smack her for a a second.
She started to cry.
"I thought you were suppose to be in a pay at school and all. I thought you were supposed to be Benedict Arnold in that play and all," I said. I said it very nasty. "Whuddaya want to do? Not be in the play, for God's sake?" That made her cry even harder. I was glad. All of a sudden I wanted her to cry until her eyes dropped out. I almost hated her. I think I hated her most because she wouldn't be in that play anymore if she went away with me.
"Come on," I said. I started up the steps to the museum again. I figured what I'd do was, I'd check the crazy suitcase she'd brought in the checkroom, and then she could get it again at 3:00, after school. I knew she couldn't take it back to school with her. "Come on now."
She didn't go up the steps with me, though. She wouldn't come with me. I went up anyway, though, and brought the bag in the checkroom and checked it, and then I came down again. She was still standing there on the sidewalk, but she turned her back on me when I came up to her. She can do that. She can turn her back on you when she feels like it. "I'm not going anywhere. I changed my mind. So stop crying and shut up," I said. The funny part was, she wasn't even crying when I said that. I said it anyway, though. "C'mon, now. I'll walk you back to school. C'mon, now. You'll be late."
She wouldn't answer me or anything. I sort of tried to get hold of her old hand, but she wouldn't let me. She kept turning around on me.
"Didja have your lunch? Ya had your lunch yet?" I asked her.
She wouldn't answer me. All she did was, she took off my red hat (the one I gave her) and chucked it right in my face. Then she turned her back on me again. It nearly killed me, but I didn't say anything. I just picked it up and stuck it in my coat pocket.
"C'mon, hey. I'll walk you back to school," I said.
"I'm not going back to school."
I didn't know what to say when she said that. I just stood there for a couple of minutes.
"You have to go back to school. You want to be in that play, don't you? You want to be Benedict Arnold, don't you?"
"No."
"Sure you do. Certainly, you do. C'mon now, let's go," I went. "In the first place, I'm not going away anywhere, I told you. I'm going home. First I'm gonna go down to the station and get my bags, and then I'm gonna go straight—"
"I said I'm not going back to school. You can do whatever the hell you want to do, but I'm not going back to school," she said. "So shut up."
It was the first time she ever told me to shut up. It sounded terrible. God, it sounded terrible. It sounded worse than swearing. She still wouldn't look at me either, and every time I sort of put my hand on her shoulder or something, she wouldn't let me.
edited 14th Apr '11 3:06:02 PM by QQQQQ
I do not mean to be insulting, and I only use this as an example because it's mainstream.
It's got a hint of Bella Swanness to it. It's very clinical. "I did this. Then I did this. Then I did this."
basically.
That's the first thing that jumped out at me.
Also, the bad grammar and tenses make it jumpy. Trust me, fix up the grammar and it probably seem a LOT better. Or at least, a lot less bad.
Read my stories!
............*haves an aneurysm*
I......am.....pretty sure.....you weren't being....mean....just.....telling.....what....you....honestly...though....but the comparison......is a bit....unfortunate......
You are right on mark about the cynicism; Allen is actually based (or at least that's what I aimed for...) is a mixture of Kyon and Harry Dresden.
Apparently that has not worked out well...
Continuously reading, studying, and (hopefully) growing.Sorry. I can find another example if you want. It's just that it's a very accessible example, and since there are so many things done wrong in the book, it's a very good cache as well.
I mean, if I said your characters cursed like an unironic Holden Caulfield, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't get it.
And then I'd have to find a way to explain something concretely and effectively. Explain why it is a bad thing. And that takes time and effort.
So as long as you don't mind me abusing a minor fallacy for the sake of simplicity...
edited 14th Apr '11 3:27:14 PM by MrAHR
Read my stories!I would appreciate if someone would critique this.

First I would like to tell you that you developed a very good dynamic between Bake and Tess. I could see some of Bake personlity when he tried to make Sophie Jelous. I am guessing he is a bit mischevious but educated kid. I really felt that nice job
However I feel that Eos was probably a bit underdeveloped. I wish I could have seen more of her personality. I would recomend telling us more about Eos and pssibly sophie ( If she is an important character). I am aware this is an introduction and you still have time to develop them; so it isn't a bad thing. But as an introduction it felt they served a little purpose beyond being the Tomboy ( she walks like a man) and Barke's crush ( he tried to make her jelaous) respectively. I would like a bit more of deatils on both of them (mybe not as much as tess) But enough to keep the audience curious about them.
Mr AHR made a good point "you used the phrase:" And Tess is on good terms with everyone... That isn't bad by itself. But it gives you a burden. I have already noted that Tess is in good terms with Barke. But you also need to show her being in good terms with the other characters remeber Show, Don't Tell. Otherwise it will be an Informed Ability be careful.
The magic-tech blend is I am afraid hardly mentioned. There is a "gun" techonlogy" ( How advanced is this gun? laser gun, ballistic?) and magic (tess is a phrophet). But so far I don't see the link between them for example If Barke doesn't tell us Tess is a prophet I would have never discovered by myself.There is little evidence to know that as an audience. But this is good thing in my opinion
I understant this is an introduction and so far the main focus was on the characters ( not a bad thing at all). I strongly recomend fleshing the characters before the magic-tech.I believe you are doing a great job just doing that. Good characters will make the audience interesting in the magic-tech blend not the other way around. This is something you seem to doing well so far.
Keep the good work!
edited 11th Apr '11 7:14:24 PM by FallenLegend
Make your hearth shine through the darkest night; let it transform hate into kindness, evil into justice, and loneliness into love.