Discuss Scratch
- Discussion Forums
- » Things I'm Making and Creating
- » Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
![[RSS Feed]](//cdn.scratch.mit.edu/scratchr2/static/__9895dded8dba41340e7c64201d2e5d85__//djangobb_forum/img/feed-icon-small.png "[RSS Feed]")
![[RSS Feed]](http://cdn.scratch.mit.edu/scratchr2/static/__9895dded8dba41340e7c64201d2e5d85__//djangobb_forum/img/feed-icon-small.png "[RSS Feed]"){kind=icon}
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8044150/ <3
Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 10th Daily
Wordcount: 685/400
Topic: Claim someone's character outline and write about one subtopiccharacter outline
Part Taken-
Call to Adventure: One day, Ri just randomly happens to go to the town of Grangeville to visit Jeanne and her family! After trash-talking them (not related to the later events of the story) and stomping to the beach he drowns… or does he? As a matter of fact, he doesn’t!! Instead, he ends up in a void with this random alien.
Ri was, safe to say, pretty disappointed that his mother, with who he usually got his way, had managed to force him into a car and send him off to that dastardly place called Grangeville. All he could think about was Hermione Granger while he was driven there by his Butler. He hated, despised, and downright detested his cousin Jeanne. She was a good-for-nothing measly rat. Compared to his mansion, her house was probably the size of his bathroom! How dare his mother send him to such a miserable place? Jeanne's mother was the sister of his late father- according to him, they should have cut them off immediately after he died. What was the point of staying in touch with practical beggars?
The moment Ri stepped out of the carriage, his nose pointed up in disdain. The roads around him were dull and gray, with the buildings the color of rotten potatoes. There were red marks around the bases of the buildings which made him want to puke. His butler pointed to his cousin's house before driving back to his mansion across the country. Ri had a feeling he was eager to get out of the place as well.
His bright red royal clothes stood out in the dreary surroundings. He knocked on the wooden door of a small stone cottage (quickly wiping his hand on his shirt) and the door was opened by a short blonde with dark yellow clothes. Ri scowled and said stiffly, “Hello, Jeanne.” His cousin looked much more excited to see him than he was to see her. She ushered him inside and her entire family (who were all shorter than him) greeted him eagerly.
It did not take long for Ri to lose his patience.
During dinner (he had to stay over at their place for three days), his aunt served a barely appetizing meal. He ate in silence while the other family members chatted and quickly enough started asking him questions.
“Why are you dressed all funny?” Joe, Jeanne's brother asked him and a tick appeared on his right cheek as he replied. “Well, at least I'm not dressed like you, Joe.” Jeanne shot him a glare and Joe, a sensitive child had already started tearing up.
“Ri, apologize,” His aunt told him sternly and he scoffed at her. “Do you think just because you're my aunt you're allowed to tell me what to do? I don't take orders from a peasant, especially not one who can't even boil potatoes properly!” he said, the meal that had been served to him not fitting his expensive palette. Not caring about the house he left in slight shambles, he stomped off to the beach next to the town. It was the only slightly attractive part of the entire town.
Ri gingerly stepped into the water, trying only to dip his feet inside but cursing when his pants got wet. Shrugging he decided to go deeper, his pants damp now anyways. He saw a small light flash across the now darkening ocean in front of him. Curious, he stepped deeper and deeper. It was too dark to see any waves, and it was much too late to scream when a huge one engulfed him totally.
Ri could not swim. He had never learnt, so he flailed his arms desperately in the suddenly heavy ocean pullng him down into the depths. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate but could only feel water filling up in his lungs. Slowly his concious slipped away and the slow rising of bubbles floated to the surface of the water
–
Ri woke up in a flurry, coughing violently as water spilled out of his mouth. Perhaps after two minutes he looked around to see where he was.
It was all black, like a void. He slowly stood up, realising the water he had coughed out had dissapeared from the inky dark floor. He looked up and jumped back when he saw a dark green sort of human with large eyes and two long antenae, his hands unusually large.
“Greetings, Ri Breguet. I am Jikdus.”Go back
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/2
Hello end-of-November Sandy!! This is beginning-of-November Sandy who is kinda tired but is still ready to yap all the same. Sooo, some questions because I love doing those! How were everything that was supposed to happen this month? How was the conference? I sure hope you actually started working on the poster soon, because I sure as heck am not doing it right now. Same thing with whatever you're trying to cook up for Armistice/Rememberance/Veterans' Day: I already decided to not finish Compiegne by then, but if you still want to do the updated Ceasefire thing I think it might end up looking great!! Hopefully you've also entered the Caporetto piece by now, and I wonder if you're going ahead with panelling this session or entering again. Well, I guess I'll find out in less than 30 days! Or maybe exactly 30 days, I'm not in the mood to count too precisely. I also hope that Arcane is epic and that you manage to pirate it before you get spoilers!!
Also, how is the volunteering going? Have you ended up figuring out a Friday schedule? Ooh, what did you do during break? Did you actually end up doing MCAT studying—oh and speaking of that, have you been really working on it? Woudl you say you'll be ready for January—did a spot open up for January? Maybe it's just me, but I do NOT think we're ready for January.
Wow, this ended up being mostly me aggressively asking you a bunch of questions, but still, it's cool to think about! And since I just read the instructions properly: I hope I get to be productive and today I ate a bunch of candy which was nice! Now, go and slay the day away.
You,
Sandy
(oh gosh i wrote my irl name at first)
296 words
Hello end-of-November Sandy!! This is beginning-of-November Sandy who is kinda tired but is still ready to yap all the same. Sooo, some questions because I love doing those! How were everything that was supposed to happen this month? How was the conference? I sure hope you actually started working on the poster soon, because I sure as heck am not doing it right now. Same thing with whatever you're trying to cook up for Armistice/Rememberance/Veterans' Day: I already decided to not finish Compiegne by then, but if you still want to do the updated Ceasefire thing I think it might end up looking great!! Hopefully you've also entered the Caporetto piece by now, and I wonder if you're going ahead with panelling this session or entering again. Well, I guess I'll find out in less than 30 days! Or maybe exactly 30 days, I'm not in the mood to count too precisely. I also hope that Arcane is epic and that you manage to pirate it before you get spoilers!!
Also, how is the volunteering going? Have you ended up figuring out a Friday schedule? Ooh, what did you do during break? Did you actually end up doing MCAT studying—oh and speaking of that, have you been really working on it? Woudl you say you'll be ready for January—did a spot open up for January? Maybe it's just me, but I do NOT think we're ready for January.
Wow, this ended up being mostly me aggressively asking you a bunch of questions, but still, it's cool to think about! And since I just read the instructions properly: I hope I get to be productive and today I ate a bunch of candy which was nice! Now, go and slay the day away.
You,
Sandy
(oh gosh i wrote my irl name at first)
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 2, 2024 22:53:07)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Mc daily 11/3 (315)
Camphora sighed as she hauled around her backpack. This day had been quite the tiring one, in an already difficult semester. Now that shed started her second year in the program, she had been going through some more difficult classes. Which actually wouldnlt have been too much of a problem if she had nothing elsr to do, but the thing was that there was also another thing she was busy with as of late: her art contest!
See, she had never been much of an artist. It was mostly her older sister Muiren who did all of the art stuff, and the poetry stuff, in addition to her passion for engineering. But Camphora was always more of a reader than a writer, a consumer ov content tather than creator.
That had changed kately, though, once she stawrted to pick up on creating fanfic for the fandoms that she had been in a while now, as well as the ones that Ri introduced to her. And eventually she ended up doing a good bit of digital art as well. After all, even though she never considered herself a artist as previously mentioned, she still drew a good flew cats around her notes all the time, sk that couldnted for something, right?
Apnd what ended up happening was that she started drawing a bunch of her fandom characters, as well as her own OCs once she started making them, as furries!!
“You should draw everyone in our year as a furry, that'd be cool,” Basil suggested probably jokingly but Camohora was always one for jokes so she actually did it.
“.That low-key looks pretty good” Ri said as he passed by the whiteboard looking at Camphora’s depictions of everyone in her year as a furry
Camohora beamed and went back to doing her psych homework, glad that making zany doodles ended up making her day less draining
Camphora sighed as she hauled around her backpack. This day had been quite the tiring one, in an already difficult semester. Now that shed started her second year in the program, she had been going through some more difficult classes. Which actually wouldnlt have been too much of a problem if she had nothing elsr to do, but the thing was that there was also another thing she was busy with as of late: her art contest!
See, she had never been much of an artist. It was mostly her older sister Muiren who did all of the art stuff, and the poetry stuff, in addition to her passion for engineering. But Camphora was always more of a reader than a writer, a consumer ov content tather than creator.
That had changed kately, though, once she stawrted to pick up on creating fanfic for the fandoms that she had been in a while now, as well as the ones that Ri introduced to her. And eventually she ended up doing a good bit of digital art as well. After all, even though she never considered herself a artist as previously mentioned, she still drew a good flew cats around her notes all the time, sk that couldnted for something, right?
Apnd what ended up happening was that she started drawing a bunch of her fandom characters, as well as her own OCs once she started making them, as furries!!
“You should draw everyone in our year as a furry, that'd be cool,” Basil suggested probably jokingly but Camohora was always one for jokes so she actually did it.
“.That low-key looks pretty good” Ri said as he passed by the whiteboard looking at Camphora’s depictions of everyone in her year as a furry
Camohora beamed and went back to doing her psych homework, glad that making zany doodles ended up making her day less draining
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 3, 2024 23:52:46)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/5
It was a cold and gray January sky that greeted Germain Moselle as he rode to the front. It was fitting, the biting wind and the dull snow, as the sight that greeted him here.
Still, he did not linger on the thought for long. He surveyed the troops that rode along with him, sullen and wary, eyes flickering away when they met his. Germain did not quite understand their distrust, but he felt the cold effects of it surely enough.
With a sigh, he looked away and watched the trees pass.
-
Leave had not filled any emptiness in his heart that he'd hoped it to fill.
“Is there anything?” he asked his father, the first words after the year away, but he shook his head in response. Nothing. Alinia's last letter, too, was almost as long ago. Germain did not quite trust the enemy to be as diligent enough to provide anything that confirmed life or death, despite how warm and cheerful her letter had seemed.
So he returned to his room, sat down, and stared blankly at an equally blank sheet of paper. There was nothing for him to say, to the general or anyone - this was his own job, and his own decision.
Still, it took days for him to write away his fate once and for all. When it was done he stood up and made his way out into the wintry streets. This land has been contested for a long time, and this village was by no means safe. So many of those who had lived here before that fateful August had been carried west by the same winds that swept the invading army towards the heart of France.
But his father—the man who had, for much of Germain's childhood, never stayed long in one place—remained here, with the abandoned homes and the occasional stack of rubble. And as Germain's eyes swept over the dandelion weeds and the few spots of sunlight yellow that cropped up amongst them, he thought he understood.
He was waiting. Waiting for when the winds died down, and the dandelion seeds burrowed into new soil. Waiting for new life to begin when the war becomes a memory, and then his children would know exactly where to find him: rooted to the ground, faithfully waiting for the day to come.
When Germain returned home father and son ate in silence. Germain was weighed down by his newfound understanding as much as he was by the unspeakable guilt, the fact that once the days counted down to zero he would be gone once again.
I'm sorry, Papa.
-
To Germain's surprise (although he supposed he should have expected this), he was assigned again to a staff position in a quiet sector by the Meuse River.
“I believe I requested to transfer to a field command position,” he says, keeping his voice still.
The officer raised his brows up at him, sensing his distress quite readily. “You're a bright young man. Army Group North? You'll be wasted out there on the field.”
Germain steeled his expression, hoping to seem older than his twenty years. (It was a lost cause; the officer must have seen his age anyway.) “I insist.”
A lengthy silence later, the officer barked out a short and mirthless laugh. “Yes.” He wrote on the paper with slow and careful motions, and slid it to Germain. “Your regiment, Captain Moselle.”
As if to mock him, the unit was in the same division as his original staff assignment by the Meuse Heights.
-
In the first weeks there was little action: distant artillery, some raids, but none of what Germain had expected from his observances on Artois and Champagne. It was indeed as quiet as a place at the front could be during the war, but the unexpected motions still unnerved him, as did the mutterings of the men he commanded.
Yet the battle of Verdun begins in earnest he couldn't say he hadn't expected it. Still, his already-splintered doctrine shattered. The general certainly held no distaste for artillery, but now it was clear that these forts had woefully few heavy pieces to fend off against the storm of judgment. A wall of bodies was not enough to compensate; it was not enough, and it would never be enough.
His first taste of combat was dreadful, absolutely dreadful. When it was over his hands were shaking and his whole body was shaking and he dropped his pistol right in front of his unit where it fell right in front of them. Barrel pointing in their direction.
He would not have been able to put into words their scorn.
But if the action broke him, then it also pieced him back together, sharper and colder and better than before. He threw himself into supplies work and socializing and every engagement, and when he did not die it seemed that they gained a little bit more response for him somehow. He was ever so grateful for the two-week rotations when they began, for it gave him a chance for solitude away from the chaos. It was sorely needed; the company of the others grated on his nerves ever so often, especially when they were suffering.
One day out in a distant village, so jarring similar to Germain's old home in the south, he walks down the street. He could almost imagine the fluttering white quince flowers in the dead, black, trees, tempting him with the visions of past.
Except… there was no way he could possibly go back, so what even was the point of considering it?
A few weeks after the beginning of the battle Germain and his rapidly dwindling unit relocated to Fort Souville, and there was a certain relief to having a roof above their heads. It was as if they were cocooned from the war, although that notion quickly faded during the first barrage, when men were screaming that they were about to be buried alive.
Souville remained standing, however. And a few days later, it was there that Germain first met Simon Albrecht.
-
Their first interaction was forgettable enough. Germain was told to feed the prisoners, and he did so, feeling his skin prickle with unease and a hint of embarrassment as he spooned mush for ten minutes.
One of the younger prisoners stepped forward then, and Germain met his hazel eyes for the briefest moment before noticing his hair: not quite dandelion yellow, but under the orange light it very well may be. He looked away soon afterward, but had forgotten the interaction amongst the others he had with the Germans, some of whom were much more intimidating than the short man.
But it was not until one day Germain slipped away in the middle of the night into the tunnels, searching for a solitary space after his broken sleep, when he stumbled upon him again. The man seemed to be looking wistfully down at some papers — photographs, perhaps? — before he looked up to see Germain, and then jumped up.
“I'm sorry!” he said, but in his haste (or perhaps just ignorance) in German.
But Germain did not grow up in occupied Alsace for nothing.
“It's alright,” he replied readily in the tongue that had gotten rusty in the past two years from lack of use, but was still capable nonetheless. After all, he wasn't exactly supposed to be here either.
Still, the German soldier looked rather wary and hurriedly exited, and Germain watched him leave, feeling strangely upset. He didn't say anything, however, and sat down inside the space. It was perfectly hidden from the outside, and it was the perfect size between claustrophobic and empty. Germain sat down with his back to the perpetually shaking tunnel wall, but his hand brushed against something on the ground. Paper?
(OKAY TIME SKIP TO THE END BC THIS IS TOO LONG AND I ALSO WROTE TOO MUCH OF THIS DURING CLASS)
(btw oly / anyone else critiquing, feel free to disregard the ending because there should be like another 1k of progression until then xD)
In yet another village, on yet another walk, he passed by a bundle of green weeds. Ambrosia, a glorified name for what was only ragweed, just as everything about this war was painted in gold to unwitting souls.
But the remnants of their love were equally golden, Germain believed. Daring to do what seemed impossible in the forts, in the trenches. Believing in a meaning and making it. Wasn't that was courage was supposed to be?
Although Germain didn't think he would ever understand, at least not yet. As he strode onward, watching his shadow grow longer ahead of him, he gazed up at the clear December sky.
1302 words oopsies
used dandelion (faithfulness), quince (temptation), and ambrosia (love returned)!! also i was going to put in devil's trumpet to represent germain's fever arc but i have class in 5 minutes and i can't be on the laptop for this one :p so yeah gotta submit this
It was a cold and gray January sky that greeted Germain Moselle as he rode to the front. It was fitting, the biting wind and the dull snow, as the sight that greeted him here.
Still, he did not linger on the thought for long. He surveyed the troops that rode along with him, sullen and wary, eyes flickering away when they met his. Germain did not quite understand their distrust, but he felt the cold effects of it surely enough.
With a sigh, he looked away and watched the trees pass.
-
Leave had not filled any emptiness in his heart that he'd hoped it to fill.
“Is there anything?” he asked his father, the first words after the year away, but he shook his head in response. Nothing. Alinia's last letter, too, was almost as long ago. Germain did not quite trust the enemy to be as diligent enough to provide anything that confirmed life or death, despite how warm and cheerful her letter had seemed.
So he returned to his room, sat down, and stared blankly at an equally blank sheet of paper. There was nothing for him to say, to the general or anyone - this was his own job, and his own decision.
Still, it took days for him to write away his fate once and for all. When it was done he stood up and made his way out into the wintry streets. This land has been contested for a long time, and this village was by no means safe. So many of those who had lived here before that fateful August had been carried west by the same winds that swept the invading army towards the heart of France.
But his father—the man who had, for much of Germain's childhood, never stayed long in one place—remained here, with the abandoned homes and the occasional stack of rubble. And as Germain's eyes swept over the dandelion weeds and the few spots of sunlight yellow that cropped up amongst them, he thought he understood.
He was waiting. Waiting for when the winds died down, and the dandelion seeds burrowed into new soil. Waiting for new life to begin when the war becomes a memory, and then his children would know exactly where to find him: rooted to the ground, faithfully waiting for the day to come.
When Germain returned home father and son ate in silence. Germain was weighed down by his newfound understanding as much as he was by the unspeakable guilt, the fact that once the days counted down to zero he would be gone once again.
I'm sorry, Papa.
-
To Germain's surprise (although he supposed he should have expected this), he was assigned again to a staff position in a quiet sector by the Meuse River.
“I believe I requested to transfer to a field command position,” he says, keeping his voice still.
The officer raised his brows up at him, sensing his distress quite readily. “You're a bright young man. Army Group North? You'll be wasted out there on the field.”
Germain steeled his expression, hoping to seem older than his twenty years. (It was a lost cause; the officer must have seen his age anyway.) “I insist.”
A lengthy silence later, the officer barked out a short and mirthless laugh. “Yes.” He wrote on the paper with slow and careful motions, and slid it to Germain. “Your regiment, Captain Moselle.”
As if to mock him, the unit was in the same division as his original staff assignment by the Meuse Heights.
-
In the first weeks there was little action: distant artillery, some raids, but none of what Germain had expected from his observances on Artois and Champagne. It was indeed as quiet as a place at the front could be during the war, but the unexpected motions still unnerved him, as did the mutterings of the men he commanded.
Yet the battle of Verdun begins in earnest he couldn't say he hadn't expected it. Still, his already-splintered doctrine shattered. The general certainly held no distaste for artillery, but now it was clear that these forts had woefully few heavy pieces to fend off against the storm of judgment. A wall of bodies was not enough to compensate; it was not enough, and it would never be enough.
His first taste of combat was dreadful, absolutely dreadful. When it was over his hands were shaking and his whole body was shaking and he dropped his pistol right in front of his unit where it fell right in front of them. Barrel pointing in their direction.
He would not have been able to put into words their scorn.
But if the action broke him, then it also pieced him back together, sharper and colder and better than before. He threw himself into supplies work and socializing and every engagement, and when he did not die it seemed that they gained a little bit more response for him somehow. He was ever so grateful for the two-week rotations when they began, for it gave him a chance for solitude away from the chaos. It was sorely needed; the company of the others grated on his nerves ever so often, especially when they were suffering.
One day out in a distant village, so jarring similar to Germain's old home in the south, he walks down the street. He could almost imagine the fluttering white quince flowers in the dead, black, trees, tempting him with the visions of past.
Except… there was no way he could possibly go back, so what even was the point of considering it?
A few weeks after the beginning of the battle Germain and his rapidly dwindling unit relocated to Fort Souville, and there was a certain relief to having a roof above their heads. It was as if they were cocooned from the war, although that notion quickly faded during the first barrage, when men were screaming that they were about to be buried alive.
Souville remained standing, however. And a few days later, it was there that Germain first met Simon Albrecht.
-
Their first interaction was forgettable enough. Germain was told to feed the prisoners, and he did so, feeling his skin prickle with unease and a hint of embarrassment as he spooned mush for ten minutes.
One of the younger prisoners stepped forward then, and Germain met his hazel eyes for the briefest moment before noticing his hair: not quite dandelion yellow, but under the orange light it very well may be. He looked away soon afterward, but had forgotten the interaction amongst the others he had with the Germans, some of whom were much more intimidating than the short man.
But it was not until one day Germain slipped away in the middle of the night into the tunnels, searching for a solitary space after his broken sleep, when he stumbled upon him again. The man seemed to be looking wistfully down at some papers — photographs, perhaps? — before he looked up to see Germain, and then jumped up.
“I'm sorry!” he said, but in his haste (or perhaps just ignorance) in German.
But Germain did not grow up in occupied Alsace for nothing.
“It's alright,” he replied readily in the tongue that had gotten rusty in the past two years from lack of use, but was still capable nonetheless. After all, he wasn't exactly supposed to be here either.
Still, the German soldier looked rather wary and hurriedly exited, and Germain watched him leave, feeling strangely upset. He didn't say anything, however, and sat down inside the space. It was perfectly hidden from the outside, and it was the perfect size between claustrophobic and empty. Germain sat down with his back to the perpetually shaking tunnel wall, but his hand brushed against something on the ground. Paper?
(OKAY TIME SKIP TO THE END BC THIS IS TOO LONG AND I ALSO WROTE TOO MUCH OF THIS DURING CLASS)
(btw oly / anyone else critiquing, feel free to disregard the ending because there should be like another 1k of progression until then xD)
In yet another village, on yet another walk, he passed by a bundle of green weeds. Ambrosia, a glorified name for what was only ragweed, just as everything about this war was painted in gold to unwitting souls.
But the remnants of their love were equally golden, Germain believed. Daring to do what seemed impossible in the forts, in the trenches. Believing in a meaning and making it. Wasn't that was courage was supposed to be?
Although Germain didn't think he would ever understand, at least not yet. As he strode onward, watching his shadow grow longer ahead of him, he gazed up at the clear December sky.
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 11, 2024 00:38:14)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/6
One day, when Jikdus was hard at work at the papers, Ri randomly plopped down right in front of them.
“Hey, Jikdus! You know, you don't have to spend all your time here. Feel free like to go around a bit. Aren't you bored sitting here at a desk all day?”
“Uhm.” To be fair, they didn't quite mind. It was nice enough to work with Ferdinand and everyone else around, and Marshal Moselle was a fair commander. And it was sheltered and homely, certainly. But they supposed that wasn't an answer that Ri would exactly take well. “I guess so, Mr. Breguet?”
“Well, either way, you should go out around a bit more,” Ri said decisively. “Hey, want to come along to the Starrgos?”
“The what now?” Ferdinand said as he entered the room, catching sight of Ri merrily standing around.
“Oh, hello, Captain Foch. As I was saying to Jikdus, they should really hop around more often!”
Ferdinand raised his eyebrows and gave a skeptical glance over to Jikdus, who could only shrug. “Hrm.”
“I mean, sure, that'd be fun…?” Jikdus said uncertainly. “We'll be back sooner than you can blink, Ferdinand, don't worry!”
It was probably true, but Foch still watched Jikdus and Ri disbelievingly as they headed through the void.
-
“Here we are!! Port Limestone.”
The port was a bustling place, full of fish and delightful wares, and Jikdus found it quite a nice sight.
“Come on, there are some people I'd love for you to meet.”
They had barely gone a few steps before Ri stopped in his tracks. “There she is! Camphora!!”
Captain Lang and Lieutenant Bay were surveying the ocean, no doubt looking over at the dark and stormy waters on the horizon. But when Camphora heard her name, she turned over to see Ri.
“Ri! It's nice to see you,” she said brightly as her coat uniform flapped around her, blown by the hard wind. Meanwhile, Basil gave him a short nod.
Ri grinned at the duo. “You as well. Anyways, this is Jikdus! I don't think you've ever met? Jikdus, these are Captain Camphora Lang and Lieutenant Basil Bay, heads of the Shore Guard.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jikdus said a tad nervously, but Camphora and Basil greeted them with clear enthusiasm.
“You've got to bring them around more often!” Camphora said, a somewhat one-sided conversation later.
“I will, don't worry,” Ri assured.
Just then, two figures skidded to a halt right in front of the group.
“Captain Lang!” Madaline said, her braids still swinging. “Jiel said we would be able to find you guys here- he said there's been updates on the bandit!”
“Apparently he robbed Mx. Bane's warehouse,” Buteo added.
Camphora's face darkened as she took in the news. “What?? No one messes with my siblings. Sorry, Ri, gotta take this one.”
“Oh, hello Judge Breguet!” Madeline said as she noticed him, and then stared at Jikdus inquisitively. But unfortunately there was no time for further introductions; the Shore Guard members took off with Madeline and Buteo.
“Well, that happened,” Ri said blithely. “Back to your office we go, I suppose!”
522 words! this is a set in the same universe as my swap au from march lolsies, this time also featuring my wolfbane ocs!!
One day, when Jikdus was hard at work at the papers, Ri randomly plopped down right in front of them.
“Hey, Jikdus! You know, you don't have to spend all your time here. Feel free like to go around a bit. Aren't you bored sitting here at a desk all day?”
“Uhm.” To be fair, they didn't quite mind. It was nice enough to work with Ferdinand and everyone else around, and Marshal Moselle was a fair commander. And it was sheltered and homely, certainly. But they supposed that wasn't an answer that Ri would exactly take well. “I guess so, Mr. Breguet?”
“Well, either way, you should go out around a bit more,” Ri said decisively. “Hey, want to come along to the Starrgos?”
“The what now?” Ferdinand said as he entered the room, catching sight of Ri merrily standing around.
“Oh, hello, Captain Foch. As I was saying to Jikdus, they should really hop around more often!”
Ferdinand raised his eyebrows and gave a skeptical glance over to Jikdus, who could only shrug. “Hrm.”
“I mean, sure, that'd be fun…?” Jikdus said uncertainly. “We'll be back sooner than you can blink, Ferdinand, don't worry!”
It was probably true, but Foch still watched Jikdus and Ri disbelievingly as they headed through the void.
-
“Here we are!! Port Limestone.”
The port was a bustling place, full of fish and delightful wares, and Jikdus found it quite a nice sight.
“Come on, there are some people I'd love for you to meet.”
They had barely gone a few steps before Ri stopped in his tracks. “There she is! Camphora!!”
Captain Lang and Lieutenant Bay were surveying the ocean, no doubt looking over at the dark and stormy waters on the horizon. But when Camphora heard her name, she turned over to see Ri.
“Ri! It's nice to see you,” she said brightly as her coat uniform flapped around her, blown by the hard wind. Meanwhile, Basil gave him a short nod.
Ri grinned at the duo. “You as well. Anyways, this is Jikdus! I don't think you've ever met? Jikdus, these are Captain Camphora Lang and Lieutenant Basil Bay, heads of the Shore Guard.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jikdus said a tad nervously, but Camphora and Basil greeted them with clear enthusiasm.
“You've got to bring them around more often!” Camphora said, a somewhat one-sided conversation later.
“I will, don't worry,” Ri assured.
Just then, two figures skidded to a halt right in front of the group.
“Captain Lang!” Madaline said, her braids still swinging. “Jiel said we would be able to find you guys here- he said there's been updates on the bandit!”
“Apparently he robbed Mx. Bane's warehouse,” Buteo added.
Camphora's face darkened as she took in the news. “What?? No one messes with my siblings. Sorry, Ri, gotta take this one.”
“Oh, hello Judge Breguet!” Madeline said as she noticed him, and then stared at Jikdus inquisitively. But unfortunately there was no time for further introductions; the Shore Guard members took off with Madeline and Buteo.
“Well, that happened,” Ri said blithely. “Back to your office we go, I suppose!”
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 6, 2024 20:44:15)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/7
Gertrud first met her in the midst of two storms: the storm that swept the sky with crackling clouds and pouring rain, and the storm that swept the earth with rumbling guns and marching men. Both storms overran Belgium, in those very first days, and then there she was: lost, weary, obviously French.
But she eventually accepted the offer to work together with Gertrud’s unit, sooner than she expected. And then one day, they met for good.
“Hello, I’m Alinia,” she said brightly, with less of an accent that Gertrud would have expected. Blue eyes, dark hair falling in strands out of her messy bun. She seemed perpectually half on her tiptoes.
“Nice to meet you,” Gertrud replied, cautiously. “My name’s Gertrud.”
Alinia beamed. “Gertrud! Such a pretty name,” except that was exactly what Gertrud thought about hers, but she hadn’t dared say.
“Thanks,” she said. “Your is really pretty too.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Haha, thank you. You know, no one else would talk to me!”
“Maybe they didn’t think you spoke German,” Gertrud offered as an explanation. Indeed, the French girl’s German was much better than she’d expected.
“Maybe.” But she didn’t seem to think too much of the reason. “You should introduce me to everyone!”
Gertrud was hardly enthusiastic about the idea, but Alinia’s pleading expression, all puppy eyes, was too difficult to ignore.
Eventually nearly everyone warmed up to Alinia, but she always seemed to stay close to Gertrud.
-
She examined the wound with a surgeon’s deft fingertips. And yet she did not have the surgeon’s knowledge or authorization; with a despairing look over at Alinia she let the soldier be.
It was quite the sour, grisly scene, their first major engagement. When it was over Gertrud walked back to her quarters and took some deep breaths, trying to rinse out the horrid scents from her lungs. But it permeated all the way from outside, or perhaps they were just forever trapped inside the crevices of her body.
“Gertrud?”
It was Alinia, standing warily by the door. She had always understood Gertrud's wish for privacy, when things became serious. Gertrud was sure that she would just leave if she gave the word, but in this moment Alinia's presence would be rather comforting. “Come in.”
So Alinia entered, and the two talked deep into the night, Gertrud feeling just a bit warmer inside by the end of it.
-
It wasn't until a year later when Gertrud realized that her feelings towards Alinia were slightly veering off from what she had always taken it as. They still shared their same easy friendship, the one that had seen them through the droves of suffering souls that seemed to define their duty. But a certain tension emerged, and certain thoughts rebounded inside her head. No, no, it would be a scandal. So she laid those thoughts to rest within her head, or at least tried to, even as they were kindled by the sight of Alinia every day.
One night, far behind the front, she took a lantern and walked out into the woods. Perpectually afraid of the farmers, she usually asked Alinia to accompany her, but this time she didn't want to spend another second alone with her. A thin drizzle soon rose, and as she began to splash about in the mud she reminded herself that no, it was clear of blood.
As it turned out, she wasn't alone.
“Gertrud!” Loud splashing footsteps came.
“Alinia,” she replied as she turned around, catching sight of Alinia's eyes: lit by the two lanterns, they burned brighter than stars.
597 words!
“scene, starlight, scandal, sour, fingertips, drizzle, dark hair, found, lost” - Skatergirl1357
“if you're gay burn it up like a gay parade” - tea-leaves
Gertrud first met her in the midst of two storms: the storm that swept the sky with crackling clouds and pouring rain, and the storm that swept the earth with rumbling guns and marching men. Both storms overran Belgium, in those very first days, and then there she was: lost, weary, obviously French.
But she eventually accepted the offer to work together with Gertrud’s unit, sooner than she expected. And then one day, they met for good.
“Hello, I’m Alinia,” she said brightly, with less of an accent that Gertrud would have expected. Blue eyes, dark hair falling in strands out of her messy bun. She seemed perpectually half on her tiptoes.
“Nice to meet you,” Gertrud replied, cautiously. “My name’s Gertrud.”
Alinia beamed. “Gertrud! Such a pretty name,” except that was exactly what Gertrud thought about hers, but she hadn’t dared say.
“Thanks,” she said. “Your is really pretty too.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Haha, thank you. You know, no one else would talk to me!”
“Maybe they didn’t think you spoke German,” Gertrud offered as an explanation. Indeed, the French girl’s German was much better than she’d expected.
“Maybe.” But she didn’t seem to think too much of the reason. “You should introduce me to everyone!”
Gertrud was hardly enthusiastic about the idea, but Alinia’s pleading expression, all puppy eyes, was too difficult to ignore.
Eventually nearly everyone warmed up to Alinia, but she always seemed to stay close to Gertrud.
-
She examined the wound with a surgeon’s deft fingertips. And yet she did not have the surgeon’s knowledge or authorization; with a despairing look over at Alinia she let the soldier be.
It was quite the sour, grisly scene, their first major engagement. When it was over Gertrud walked back to her quarters and took some deep breaths, trying to rinse out the horrid scents from her lungs. But it permeated all the way from outside, or perhaps they were just forever trapped inside the crevices of her body.
“Gertrud?”
It was Alinia, standing warily by the door. She had always understood Gertrud's wish for privacy, when things became serious. Gertrud was sure that she would just leave if she gave the word, but in this moment Alinia's presence would be rather comforting. “Come in.”
So Alinia entered, and the two talked deep into the night, Gertrud feeling just a bit warmer inside by the end of it.
-
It wasn't until a year later when Gertrud realized that her feelings towards Alinia were slightly veering off from what she had always taken it as. They still shared their same easy friendship, the one that had seen them through the droves of suffering souls that seemed to define their duty. But a certain tension emerged, and certain thoughts rebounded inside her head. No, no, it would be a scandal. So she laid those thoughts to rest within her head, or at least tried to, even as they were kindled by the sight of Alinia every day.
One night, far behind the front, she took a lantern and walked out into the woods. Perpectually afraid of the farmers, she usually asked Alinia to accompany her, but this time she didn't want to spend another second alone with her. A thin drizzle soon rose, and as she began to splash about in the mud she reminded herself that no, it was clear of blood.
As it turned out, she wasn't alone.
“Gertrud!” Loud splashing footsteps came.
“Alinia,” she replied as she turned around, catching sight of Alinia's eyes: lit by the two lanterns, they burned brighter than stars.
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 7, 2024 21:34:10)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Weekly 1
Part 1
482 words
“Yes, it will destroy the world,” Hans confirmed, rather nervously. He still didn't trust these nerds to, well, not ruin this world that he had found himself in. For the most part, despite the zanyness he had found himself in, he’d been really enjoying it. And, well, having it get all blown up by the microwave that prompted its beginning would suck.
“Well, you heard him,” Henry said to Jayce and Viktor. “Best give up now.” He folded his arms and stared at the two scientists intimidatingly.
Viktor, for his part, wasn’t really cowled by the lieutenant colonel’s unspoken threat, but he did seem to back down. “Alright,” he said with a nod. “We’ll stop experimenting on the microwave.”
“If you can also like destroy it, that’d be great,” Hans said, looking around for the hammer. Yep, Marx and Engels were toying around with it, and yapping about how they should make the weapon glow red instead of blue to further symbolize COMMUNISM!!! “Marx and Engels?”
Marx lifted the hammer over to where the microwave was. “I gotchu bro.”
Then he swung down the hammer, and the microwave instantly flattened into a bunch of metal. Hans let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and although the two scientists seemed a bit dejected, he hoped they’d understand it was for the best.
“You can help me make bombs with those things instead!” Jinx offered eagerly with a sharp grin, nodding over to the pile of hexgems that remained after she stole a pretty big chunk of the pile. “It won’t blow up the world, but we can blow up some trees if you wanna.”
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance. “Uh, okay,” Jayce said, turning back to Jinx, who was watching them hopefully.
“Alright, folks, let’s get a move on,” Ri said as he straightened up and fixed his suit. Typical ahh Ri Breguet behavior. Hans waved goodbye to Jinx, who was staying to yap around with Jayce and Viktor, and continued onwards with the rest of the gang.
Part 2:
240 words, 61 dialogue
By now the sun was sinking slowly in the sky, although it still cast light rays of sunlight across the forest floor. Hans thought it was really pretty, and he hoped it would get even prettier yet as the afternoon went on. To be fair, he was also flabbergasted by the sheer number of events that had happened in one day. Glancing around discreetly, he saw that everyone still seemed pretty upbeat for the most part. Marx and Engels, who had straight-up taken Jayce’s hammer, were taking turns dragging it as they went along. BWU, Chappell, and Charlie were singing a mashup of their songs, and Monk and Harold were bickering as always. Foch seemed to be heatedly talking about something to Ri, who was his usual brand of nonchalant, and that left Henry, who fell into step next to Hans.
“So, what do you think?” he asked Hans easily, with his hands in his uniform’s pockets and walking with jaunty steps.
Hans thought he was probably talking about their journey so far. “Well, I guess it’s been something!!” To be honest, he still didn’t really know what to make of it, but he was chilling. He also probably got 40k steps out of all of this, which was kinda type sigma.
“It has,” Henry admitted, brushing Hans’s arm with his. “I would’ve never thought that so much would happen. I mean, I was just visiting Gramps—” at this point he glanced over at Foch, still in conversation with Ri— “and then I met you, and then he just showed up with that bus of his! Then there was the castle and battle, and bam, here we are.” He didn’t seem too upset by it; on the contrary, he looked quite enthusiastic about the thought of such daring travels. Hans supposed that this tank captain of France turned Soviet lieutenant colonel would of course find the adventure in anything. Also, the fact that they couldn’t die probably counted for something, but then Hans realized that Henry didn’t really know the full truth of anything either. The answers all lied with Ri.
“Here we are,” he said, then mustered a smile at Henry, who grinned back. They spent the rest of the short time walking in comfortable silence in each others’ presence.
Part 3:
353 words
When Ri finally called a break, and Foch returned to talk with his grandson, Hans made his way over to the redheaded stranger and stood right in front of him.
“We need to talk,” he said, and Ri looked at him knowingly.
“Alrighty, then, talk we shall!”
“Is that even proper grammar??” Hans questioned as Ri guided him to a place away from the rest of the group.
“Whatever!! So. This is about your dreams and stuff, right?”
Hans raised his eyebrows. “How did you know about that??”
“Well, well, being an OP self-aware character has its perks,” he said rather mysteriously. “It also has its massive downsides, but whatever. But yeah, Sophie and Alberto aren’t being too kind right now, as I can imagine.”
“It’s really weird. They’re being like… inconsistent. Like, one second they were mocking me and then the next they were nice? Seems a bit off, man.”
Ri shrugged and opened a bag of Funyuns from somewhere, offering Hans to take one.
“Thanks,” he said, eating it, as Ri began to explain.
“See, currently I also don’t know where we’re heading,” he said. “My knowledge goes only as far as Sandy’s, and she doesn’t really know either.”
“…”
“I mean, you’ll find more people of course, but we don’t really know what’s up next for you,” Ri smiled wistfully.
“Really now, nothing?” Hans said in disappointment.
“Essentially, yeah,” Ri shrugged, monocle glinting by the golden sunlight.
“Hrmm.”
“So I can’t really anything, but I’ll see if I can let you know about any, well, pointers,” Ri said. Then, hurriedly, he started: “I can only-”
But then he cut himself off. “Nevermind,” he said, relaxed grin slipping on once more, but there was something strange about it. Hans, somewhat unobservant as he was, didn’t really notice.
Either way, he wouldn’t have had much time to dwell on it, because just then a voice rang out in the distance: “Captain Breguet!” Foch said, coming into the clearing. “Oh, you,” he said to Hans, skeptically, then turned back to Ri. “Something strange is happening.”
Ri followed Foch back to where everyone was and…
Part 4:
209 words
GRANGEVILLE FOREST - AFTERNOON
The CLEARING is full of confused characters. ADRIAN MONK and HAROLD KRENSHAW are silent, and so are CHAPPELL ROAN, BOYWITHUKE, AND CHARLIE XCX. KARL MARX and FREDERICH ENGELS are bashing the ground with their hammer in an attempt to break out of the script mode. A COCONUT TREE is sitting nearby.
Enter HANS VOGEL and RI BREGUET
RI: Ahh, I see how it is.
FERDINAND FOCH and HENRY FOURNIER-FOCH turn to RI for an explanation
HENRY: Do you know what’s going on?
RI: (nods) Yep, I do indeed. I’m surprised you all can actually notice, actually.
FOCH and HENRY both shrug in unison.
HANS: (nervously) How do you break out of this, Ri?
RI: Simple! Just wait for the word count to reach 200, and we shall be free of this prison that Sandy has imposed on us.
HANS stares at RI.
HANS: Alright, sure bud, I’ll just take your word for it.
RI nods approvingly as HENRY stares around at the script-fied environment.
RI: How did you guys tell something was up, though?
MARX: I could feel something wrong tingling in my communist bones.
MARX shudders as he recalls the script transformation.
RI: (encouragingly) Come on, guys, we’re close! Oh, there we go, that’s 210.
Part 1
482 words
“Yes, it will destroy the world,” Hans confirmed, rather nervously. He still didn't trust these nerds to, well, not ruin this world that he had found himself in. For the most part, despite the zanyness he had found himself in, he’d been really enjoying it. And, well, having it get all blown up by the microwave that prompted its beginning would suck.
“Well, you heard him,” Henry said to Jayce and Viktor. “Best give up now.” He folded his arms and stared at the two scientists intimidatingly.
Viktor, for his part, wasn’t really cowled by the lieutenant colonel’s unspoken threat, but he did seem to back down. “Alright,” he said with a nod. “We’ll stop experimenting on the microwave.”
“If you can also like destroy it, that’d be great,” Hans said, looking around for the hammer. Yep, Marx and Engels were toying around with it, and yapping about how they should make the weapon glow red instead of blue to further symbolize COMMUNISM!!! “Marx and Engels?”
Marx lifted the hammer over to where the microwave was. “I gotchu bro.”
Then he swung down the hammer, and the microwave instantly flattened into a bunch of metal. Hans let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and although the two scientists seemed a bit dejected, he hoped they’d understand it was for the best.
“You can help me make bombs with those things instead!” Jinx offered eagerly with a sharp grin, nodding over to the pile of hexgems that remained after she stole a pretty big chunk of the pile. “It won’t blow up the world, but we can blow up some trees if you wanna.”
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance. “Uh, okay,” Jayce said, turning back to Jinx, who was watching them hopefully.
“Alright, folks, let’s get a move on,” Ri said as he straightened up and fixed his suit. Typical ahh Ri Breguet behavior. Hans waved goodbye to Jinx, who was staying to yap around with Jayce and Viktor, and continued onwards with the rest of the gang.
Part 2:
240 words, 61 dialogue
By now the sun was sinking slowly in the sky, although it still cast light rays of sunlight across the forest floor. Hans thought it was really pretty, and he hoped it would get even prettier yet as the afternoon went on. To be fair, he was also flabbergasted by the sheer number of events that had happened in one day. Glancing around discreetly, he saw that everyone still seemed pretty upbeat for the most part. Marx and Engels, who had straight-up taken Jayce’s hammer, were taking turns dragging it as they went along. BWU, Chappell, and Charlie were singing a mashup of their songs, and Monk and Harold were bickering as always. Foch seemed to be heatedly talking about something to Ri, who was his usual brand of nonchalant, and that left Henry, who fell into step next to Hans.
“So, what do you think?” he asked Hans easily, with his hands in his uniform’s pockets and walking with jaunty steps.
Hans thought he was probably talking about their journey so far. “Well, I guess it’s been something!!” To be honest, he still didn’t really know what to make of it, but he was chilling. He also probably got 40k steps out of all of this, which was kinda type sigma.
“It has,” Henry admitted, brushing Hans’s arm with his. “I would’ve never thought that so much would happen. I mean, I was just visiting Gramps—” at this point he glanced over at Foch, still in conversation with Ri— “and then I met you, and then he just showed up with that bus of his! Then there was the castle and battle, and bam, here we are.” He didn’t seem too upset by it; on the contrary, he looked quite enthusiastic about the thought of such daring travels. Hans supposed that this tank captain of France turned Soviet lieutenant colonel would of course find the adventure in anything. Also, the fact that they couldn’t die probably counted for something, but then Hans realized that Henry didn’t really know the full truth of anything either. The answers all lied with Ri.
“Here we are,” he said, then mustered a smile at Henry, who grinned back. They spent the rest of the short time walking in comfortable silence in each others’ presence.
Part 3:
353 words
When Ri finally called a break, and Foch returned to talk with his grandson, Hans made his way over to the redheaded stranger and stood right in front of him.
“We need to talk,” he said, and Ri looked at him knowingly.
“Alrighty, then, talk we shall!”
“Is that even proper grammar??” Hans questioned as Ri guided him to a place away from the rest of the group.
“Whatever!! So. This is about your dreams and stuff, right?”
Hans raised his eyebrows. “How did you know about that??”
“Well, well, being an OP self-aware character has its perks,” he said rather mysteriously. “It also has its massive downsides, but whatever. But yeah, Sophie and Alberto aren’t being too kind right now, as I can imagine.”
“It’s really weird. They’re being like… inconsistent. Like, one second they were mocking me and then the next they were nice? Seems a bit off, man.”
Ri shrugged and opened a bag of Funyuns from somewhere, offering Hans to take one.
“Thanks,” he said, eating it, as Ri began to explain.
“See, currently I also don’t know where we’re heading,” he said. “My knowledge goes only as far as Sandy’s, and she doesn’t really know either.”
“…”
“I mean, you’ll find more people of course, but we don’t really know what’s up next for you,” Ri smiled wistfully.
“Really now, nothing?” Hans said in disappointment.
“Essentially, yeah,” Ri shrugged, monocle glinting by the golden sunlight.
“Hrmm.”
“So I can’t really anything, but I’ll see if I can let you know about any, well, pointers,” Ri said. Then, hurriedly, he started: “I can only-”
But then he cut himself off. “Nevermind,” he said, relaxed grin slipping on once more, but there was something strange about it. Hans, somewhat unobservant as he was, didn’t really notice.
Either way, he wouldn’t have had much time to dwell on it, because just then a voice rang out in the distance: “Captain Breguet!” Foch said, coming into the clearing. “Oh, you,” he said to Hans, skeptically, then turned back to Ri. “Something strange is happening.”
Ri followed Foch back to where everyone was and…
Part 4:
209 words
GRANGEVILLE FOREST - AFTERNOON
The CLEARING is full of confused characters. ADRIAN MONK and HAROLD KRENSHAW are silent, and so are CHAPPELL ROAN, BOYWITHUKE, AND CHARLIE XCX. KARL MARX and FREDERICH ENGELS are bashing the ground with their hammer in an attempt to break out of the script mode. A COCONUT TREE is sitting nearby.
Enter HANS VOGEL and RI BREGUET
RI: Ahh, I see how it is.
FERDINAND FOCH and HENRY FOURNIER-FOCH turn to RI for an explanation
HENRY: Do you know what’s going on?
RI: (nods) Yep, I do indeed. I’m surprised you all can actually notice, actually.
FOCH and HENRY both shrug in unison.
HANS: (nervously) How do you break out of this, Ri?
RI: Simple! Just wait for the word count to reach 200, and we shall be free of this prison that Sandy has imposed on us.
HANS stares at RI.
HANS: Alright, sure bud, I’ll just take your word for it.
RI nods approvingly as HENRY stares around at the script-fied environment.
RI: How did you guys tell something was up, though?
MARX: I could feel something wrong tingling in my communist bones.
MARX shudders as he recalls the script transformation.
RI: (encouragingly) Come on, guys, we’re close! Oh, there we go, that’s 210.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/8
But just then there was a commotion somewhere off in the distance, startling Henry and Hans out of their moment. It seemed to be coming from a shielded clearing, but even in the bright sunlight there were evident sparks of blue flying out of the bushes surrounding the place.
“What is it now??” Hans groaned as he followed Ri and everyone else in.
There was a duo of nerds pounding at a pile of blue gemstones. One of them was holding a giant hammer, which Marx eyed enviously, while the other was busy scribbling notes with a red cape on, one that both Marx and Engels seemed rather jealous of. Hans though that they were probably planning to steal it and use it for a Commie flag or something.
“Ooh,” Jinx said as she eyed the working duo with a glint in her eyes, but for a different reason other than communism: they were working with a huge trove of hexgems.
And finally, Hans saw something different than everyone did: the world-destroying microwave, stuffed into the corner with its inner compartment right open!! Oh. No.
Somehow the two science bros did not notice the entrance of like literally ten people into their workspace, busy as they were with their project. Also admittedly they were facing the other way and were making quite a racket as they yapped around the hexgems. So they continued working away as Jinx, Marx, Engels, and Hans all crept on them, then struck at the exact same time.
Marx jumpscared Jayce, causing him to drop his hammer, while Engels ended up just yanking the cape off Viktor's back. While the two nerds were distracted, Jinx grabbed a huge handful of the hexgems, while Hans snatched up the world-ending microwave, not wanting anyone else's hands on it. How did they get this, anyway???
“What the heck is going on?” Jayce questioned as he finally looked over at the gang, now holding a bunch of his supplies.
“I wish I knew,” Viktor sighed.
“What are you two doing with this??” Hans demanded, pointing to the microwave.
“It seemed like a powerful machine, so we were just trying to power it on with hextech,” Viktor explained calmly, seeming rather unfazed by Hans's nervousness.
“Yeah but like do you know what it does?????”
“An energy source! I've looked through the machinery and it seems really efficient,” Jayce basically gushed, staring at the microwave with puppy eyes.“
”It ends the world!!“ Hans burst out.
Silence fell for a few moments. Hans's stomach sank to the bottom of the Mariana Trench as he realized everyone probably thought he was delulu.
”No, really, there's yellow smoke and everything.“ he continued, acutely aware of everyone's skeptical expressions. The images flashed before his eyes: the colonel and the popcorn and then the yellow smoke rising high above the Kommandantur, the sheer indifference he had towards all of it back then, when he was only desperate for food and willing to sacrifice everything and everyone else for it. He never even wondered about the Antics Squad, what had happened to them after he was ejected from space.
And wait… if the microwave was here, the microwave from his very first adventure, was this the same place everything had happened?? Could it be????
”I believe you, Hans,“ Henry said firmly, snapping him out of his memories and questions. ”You guys shouldn't tamper with that thing. Just leave it be.“
Obviously, leaving things be was not in the inherent nature of neither Jayce or Viktor. They exchanged a glance before looking back at the microwave.
”You said this thing will destroy the world?" Viktor said softly.
604 words! part of my nano piece and the weekly is a direct continuation of this lolsies
But just then there was a commotion somewhere off in the distance, startling Henry and Hans out of their moment. It seemed to be coming from a shielded clearing, but even in the bright sunlight there were evident sparks of blue flying out of the bushes surrounding the place.
“What is it now??” Hans groaned as he followed Ri and everyone else in.
There was a duo of nerds pounding at a pile of blue gemstones. One of them was holding a giant hammer, which Marx eyed enviously, while the other was busy scribbling notes with a red cape on, one that both Marx and Engels seemed rather jealous of. Hans though that they were probably planning to steal it and use it for a Commie flag or something.
“Ooh,” Jinx said as she eyed the working duo with a glint in her eyes, but for a different reason other than communism: they were working with a huge trove of hexgems.
And finally, Hans saw something different than everyone did: the world-destroying microwave, stuffed into the corner with its inner compartment right open!! Oh. No.
Somehow the two science bros did not notice the entrance of like literally ten people into their workspace, busy as they were with their project. Also admittedly they were facing the other way and were making quite a racket as they yapped around the hexgems. So they continued working away as Jinx, Marx, Engels, and Hans all crept on them, then struck at the exact same time.
Marx jumpscared Jayce, causing him to drop his hammer, while Engels ended up just yanking the cape off Viktor's back. While the two nerds were distracted, Jinx grabbed a huge handful of the hexgems, while Hans snatched up the world-ending microwave, not wanting anyone else's hands on it. How did they get this, anyway???
“What the heck is going on?” Jayce questioned as he finally looked over at the gang, now holding a bunch of his supplies.
“I wish I knew,” Viktor sighed.
“What are you two doing with this??” Hans demanded, pointing to the microwave.
“It seemed like a powerful machine, so we were just trying to power it on with hextech,” Viktor explained calmly, seeming rather unfazed by Hans's nervousness.
“Yeah but like do you know what it does?????”
“An energy source! I've looked through the machinery and it seems really efficient,” Jayce basically gushed, staring at the microwave with puppy eyes.“
”It ends the world!!“ Hans burst out.
Silence fell for a few moments. Hans's stomach sank to the bottom of the Mariana Trench as he realized everyone probably thought he was delulu.
”No, really, there's yellow smoke and everything.“ he continued, acutely aware of everyone's skeptical expressions. The images flashed before his eyes: the colonel and the popcorn and then the yellow smoke rising high above the Kommandantur, the sheer indifference he had towards all of it back then, when he was only desperate for food and willing to sacrifice everything and everyone else for it. He never even wondered about the Antics Squad, what had happened to them after he was ejected from space.
And wait… if the microwave was here, the microwave from his very first adventure, was this the same place everything had happened?? Could it be????
”I believe you, Hans,“ Henry said firmly, snapping him out of his memories and questions. ”You guys shouldn't tamper with that thing. Just leave it be.“
Obviously, leaving things be was not in the inherent nature of neither Jayce or Viktor. They exchanged a glance before looking back at the microwave.
”You said this thing will destroy the world?" Viktor said softly.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
placeholder post yumsies
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 9, 2024 17:22:56)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Character swap!!
Renée was having a perfectly ordinary day at work. To be fair, her work was never quite calm or consistent, but at least she never had to deal with… a squad of pigeon killers?
A severe-looking man in an officer's uniform was standing next to a cadet who was coughing intensely.
“Ughh, they do this every time,” Captain Leftver complained. “Poisoning the river or poisoning themselves or whatever.
”The river…?“ Renée asked. not particularly reassured by the implication that the water's water was contaminated. After all, that was such a large part of Sunshine Bay's water supply!
”Yeah, yeah, it's worth it though! To kill all the pigeons.“ Leftver's eyes had taken on a murderous glint, one that took Renée off guard. After all, the only people who looked like that usually did not do things that ended well. To be fair, this strange man did not seem to have anything against any specific person, but the hatred he had for the pigeons… quite concerning. Renée genuinely worried for the man's sanity.
”Can I… still get… my three hundred million dollars,“ the cadet said weakly as he was loaded onto the ambulance.
”I told you to NOT go to the river!!“ Leftver complained. ”This happens every year.“
”Every year…?“ Renée asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
”Yeah, these wimps never listen,“ Leftver sighed. ”I tell them, don't go to the river, and every year, they go to the river!!“
He clambered up into the ambulance right before the doors closed.
”'They?' Should you not- what are you doing?“ Renée said, fighting to keep her voice under control as she stared at the captain, who made himself comfortable on the floor of the ambulance. ”Call off your weird pigeon poisoning thing! Someone has to call Environmental Services too." Illariya was already busy fussing over the cadet, whose state didn't seem too bad, so she set off to dial Environmental Services as the captain hummed some jolly tune.
Renée was having a perfectly ordinary day at work. To be fair, her work was never quite calm or consistent, but at least she never had to deal with… a squad of pigeon killers?
A severe-looking man in an officer's uniform was standing next to a cadet who was coughing intensely.
“Ughh, they do this every time,” Captain Leftver complained. “Poisoning the river or poisoning themselves or whatever.
”The river…?“ Renée asked. not particularly reassured by the implication that the water's water was contaminated. After all, that was such a large part of Sunshine Bay's water supply!
”Yeah, yeah, it's worth it though! To kill all the pigeons.“ Leftver's eyes had taken on a murderous glint, one that took Renée off guard. After all, the only people who looked like that usually did not do things that ended well. To be fair, this strange man did not seem to have anything against any specific person, but the hatred he had for the pigeons… quite concerning. Renée genuinely worried for the man's sanity.
”Can I… still get… my three hundred million dollars,“ the cadet said weakly as he was loaded onto the ambulance.
”I told you to NOT go to the river!!“ Leftver complained. ”This happens every year.“
”Every year…?“ Renée asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
”Yeah, these wimps never listen,“ Leftver sighed. ”I tell them, don't go to the river, and every year, they go to the river!!“
He clambered up into the ambulance right before the doors closed.
”'They?' Should you not- what are you doing?“ Renée said, fighting to keep her voice under control as she stared at the captain, who made himself comfortable on the floor of the ambulance. ”Call off your weird pigeon poisoning thing! Someone has to call Environmental Services too." Illariya was already busy fussing over the cadet, whose state didn't seem too bad, so she set off to dial Environmental Services as the captain hummed some jolly tune.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Character swap #2!!
Chester blinked as he found himself in a white void. Looking around, he didn't really see many things in sight, so he padded around, curious to scope out more of the place he had found himself in. He had recognized it as a strange pocket of space that didn't seem to overlap with any universe, but he'd never thought to give it a visit until now.
His eye fell on something in the middle of the seemingly desolate space. It frankly looked a little like a living room, with a glass coffee table and a plush sofa. And on the coffee table was a teacup that seemed oddly familiar… wait, this was Anti's teacup!
“Well, hello there. You must be the one who teleported that here.”
Chester turned around to see a vaguely feline-looking creature with nothing much more than dark gray matter for a body, along with one glowing white and one deep black eye.
He grinned back, bouncing a little on his toes. “Nice place you've got here.”
The creature seemed to be pleased. “Oh, thank you. My son and I live here, you know, and it was a bit of a shock when we just found a teacup just here.”
“Sorry about that,” Chester said, feeling rather guilty about teleporting objects around without minding where they ended up. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been irresponsible with his powers—in fact, he'd done worse things before—but it still made him a bit embarrassed. He could imagine what it was like if some random teacup, still filled with unfinished tea, landed in HIS living room one day. Not that he really had a living room, but still.
“It's alright. My son is a universe hopper like you, although you probably call it something different, so I'm used to it,” they replied. “Feel free to come back anytime, if you need a place, but I'm sure you have safe spaces of your own out there.”
“Thank you,” Chester replied, not really knowing what else to say. “Well, I guess I'll be off now.” He had his whole deal with Anti to deal with and everything. And so he left the white void, wondering if he'd ever come back again.
Chester blinked as he found himself in a white void. Looking around, he didn't really see many things in sight, so he padded around, curious to scope out more of the place he had found himself in. He had recognized it as a strange pocket of space that didn't seem to overlap with any universe, but he'd never thought to give it a visit until now.
His eye fell on something in the middle of the seemingly desolate space. It frankly looked a little like a living room, with a glass coffee table and a plush sofa. And on the coffee table was a teacup that seemed oddly familiar… wait, this was Anti's teacup!
“Well, hello there. You must be the one who teleported that here.”
Chester turned around to see a vaguely feline-looking creature with nothing much more than dark gray matter for a body, along with one glowing white and one deep black eye.
He grinned back, bouncing a little on his toes. “Nice place you've got here.”
The creature seemed to be pleased. “Oh, thank you. My son and I live here, you know, and it was a bit of a shock when we just found a teacup just here.”
“Sorry about that,” Chester said, feeling rather guilty about teleporting objects around without minding where they ended up. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been irresponsible with his powers—in fact, he'd done worse things before—but it still made him a bit embarrassed. He could imagine what it was like if some random teacup, still filled with unfinished tea, landed in HIS living room one day. Not that he really had a living room, but still.
“It's alright. My son is a universe hopper like you, although you probably call it something different, so I'm used to it,” they replied. “Feel free to come back anytime, if you need a place, but I'm sure you have safe spaces of your own out there.”
“Thank you,” Chester replied, not really knowing what else to say. “Well, I guess I'll be off now.” He had his whole deal with Anti to deal with and everything. And so he left the white void, wondering if he'd ever come back again.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Critiquaire (no clue if I spelled that right, again lol) for @Sandy-Dunes! (Sci-fi, 318 words, so +400 points!)
Alright, here’s my critique!
First, a few things I liked:
-I’m in no way an expert on the Backrooms (at all), but I think this includes details and explains it well enough that even someone like me would be able to read and enjoy it- for example, adding details about the levels and the different places.
-“Cat-like curiosity” - I liked the simile there, it makes it much more interesting to read when you include figurative language.
-I like how the first few paragraphs set up the rest of the story while also drawing you in. A lot of the time, when the author is trying to explain the setting, it gets a bit boring, but I think you did a nice job with it!
-The cliffhanger was really good- it definitely adds a sense of mystery
A few critiques (I’m also just going to apologize in advance, I’m always very nitpicky with grammar :,)):
-At the end, when Max is hearing the voices, I think it would add to the scene to include bits and pieces of other voices. Since it’s described as overwhelming, I think doing this would help the reader understand why better, rather than just having a few voices mentioned.
-“He tethers on the edge of something, but finds his footing.” - I think “teeters” would be a better word here instead of tethers (this may have just been autocorrect or something though).
-In the 4th paragraph it says “the Frontrooms”. I know that this piece was probably meant for people who do have knowledge about the Backrooms, but maybe explaining this a little more would help- I had thought for a minute that the Frontrooms was a part of the Backrooms or something that Max had gone to before, and I had to look up what it was.
Anyways, that was all the advice I have about this. Overall, I think you did a great job!
Critique for @Sandy-Dunes
First of all, I really enjoyed reading through this. It was very cleverly written and I liked how it swapped between the two character’s points of view! I also liked reading through something that was in the romance genre, as I’ve never really read or written that sort of theme!
In general, I think you could have made it flow a bit more smoothly, as the piece seemed almost quite jagged. This was due mainly to the fact that there were lots of gaps between each line and lots of short paragraphs. These can work really well when trying to create suspense, but too many makes it too difficult to read clearly and makes it harder to understand.
I also don’t get the line ‘So Simon didn’t respond to the question’ because there wasn’t any question. However, this was quite a minor detail, and I didn’t notice until I’d read it a few times I think at the part when it says ‘Germain returned to a warm welcome’ you could have a little bit of context to where he’s returning to because it can be a bit confusing for your reader and it’s easier if you can picture the place in your mind when reading!
I think for the characters, to make your reader connect with them more, you should add a little emotional moment for one of them e.g they’re crying, or maybe just add something that makes your reader know them more, because it can help to make the story a bit clearer.
After the timeskip, I honestly get quite confused because I don’t really understand what is going on in that paragraph so maybe add a bit of context again
Again, I really enjoyed reading through this and loved getting to understand the story and the way the start and finish were the same as it adds some nice suspense hehe I hope this critique helped! <3
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Critique for Bea
Hii Bea! Overall your piece is really neat and I couldn't really think of anything to critique - feel free to disregard anything I say that doesn't work with what you intend!
Starting off with some general comments: I love the concept of your piece, and for the most part the worldbuilding is very detailed :> however, there are a few parts where I think you could elaborate or clarify a bit more, which I'll get to later.
Also, if this piece is a direct continuation of something else I don't think you need to take note of this - but giving some extra context to the previous stick figures would be nice! I think a description of Victim, BEAST, and killer would be useful to have if you plan on making this piece a standalone.
And finally, I also love the characters and character dynamics you have here! It's really neat to see how Alan and the Dark Lord regard each other, and the Dark Lord as a lot of personality given that he has no dialogue and is only a stick figure haha.
I'll get into some line-by-line comments now
So yeah, that's about it! Hopefully you found some of this helpful and don't feel like you have to change everything I pointed out, they're just suggestions after all. Thanks for letting me read and critique your piece, it's really good!
Hii Bea! Overall your piece is really neat and I couldn't really think of anything to critique - feel free to disregard anything I say that doesn't work with what you intend!
Starting off with some general comments: I love the concept of your piece, and for the most part the worldbuilding is very detailed :> however, there are a few parts where I think you could elaborate or clarify a bit more, which I'll get to later.
Also, if this piece is a direct continuation of something else I don't think you need to take note of this - but giving some extra context to the previous stick figures would be nice! I think a description of Victim, BEAST, and killer would be useful to have if you plan on making this piece a standalone.
And finally, I also love the characters and character dynamics you have here! It's really neat to see how Alan and the Dark Lord regard each other, and the Dark Lord as a lot of personality given that he has no dialogue and is only a stick figure haha.
I'll get into some line-by-line comments now
He had long since beat VictimI believe this would be “beaten” and not “beat” to be grammatically correct!
Alan right-clicked the stick figure, cursor clicking on the “convert to symbol” button.“then clicking on” might work better than “cursor clicking on,” because it implies they were happening at the same time rather than sequentially :p
The place where he was supposed to input the namesaying “text field” (or whatever exactly you have in the menu, if it's something different) instead of “place” would be a bit more descriptive
“OK”maybe clarify where exactly this text showed up? (Like a pop-up window, maybe?)
a simple weightI know I'm giving a lot of very similar comments lol but a tiny bit of description for this weight would be nice! Like whether it's hollow or not, and its size.
His shoulders shook slightly as he tilted his hollow head up, in an almost cocky motion.Ooh love this line!! The description of the motion is really neat to read and it's cool how it gets so much personality across
AOL stood upI'm guessing this is a typo for Alan lol
Alan’s pop-up blocker, the Dark Lord broke loose.Not sure what exactly you mean by this sentence :') it sounds like you're saying the Dark Lord is Alan's pop-up blocker, which I don't think is the case??
But they teamed up against him.THIS IS HILARIOUS and it also makes a lot of sense in the plot!!
His computer blue-screened.Ooh this is such a neat ending :0
If only he knew what would happen next.
So yeah, that's about it! Hopefully you found some of this helpful
and don't feel like you have to change everything I pointed out, they're just suggestions after all. Thanks for letting me read and critique your piece, it's really good!Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 11, 2024 00:21:40)
- Alfalfa78
-
Scratcher
40 posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Critique!!
302 words without quotes.
General Overview
It's really good for being based of off 10 (20?) words! One thing that is sticking out to me, and please note it's probably just me, is the whole war part of it. I'm a military nerd of sorts, and it's just a little thing, but ranking and such is semi-important. A small mention of either character's rank or a making/badge would've been nice in my opinion! Another thought is that Gertrud and Alinia could be bunkmates/battle buddies! Exactly what they sound like and it's pretty normal for them to be friends, since they're practically stuck together! Buddy system, in short!
Character Dynamic:
I definitely like their dynamic? It's very sweet, especially considering the environment they're in. Alinia strikes me as the optimist and the jokester, always trying to boost everybody's morale while Gertrud seems to be the quiet lone wolf of the bunch! Their dialogue, actions, and behaviors feel natural!
Clarity:
Most of was happening was clear. The only thing that wasn't clear was exactly how much time had passed between the first little skip. While it isn't the most important thing, it could help with a little clarity as to how long Gertrud and Alinia had been friends, and potentially how close they are!
Specific Things:
I like the flow of this paragraph! It definitely shows the reader Gertrud's sorrow about not being able to help the soldier. The only thing that could be changed is the clarity of whose wound it is in the first sentence. It kinda gave me a little bit of a scare in the first read over, because I thought Gertrud was hurt.
This entire paragraph feels a tad bit clunky? It feels start-stop when I'm reading it and I feel like it could be smoother.
A beautiful description, I know exactly what's happening and it conjures up a nice mental image!
302 words without quotes.
General Overview
It's really good for being based of off 10 (20?) words! One thing that is sticking out to me, and please note it's probably just me, is the whole war part of it. I'm a military nerd of sorts, and it's just a little thing, but ranking and such is semi-important. A small mention of either character's rank or a making/badge would've been nice in my opinion! Another thought is that Gertrud and Alinia could be bunkmates/battle buddies! Exactly what they sound like and it's pretty normal for them to be friends, since they're practically stuck together! Buddy system, in short!
Character Dynamic:
I definitely like their dynamic? It's very sweet, especially considering the environment they're in. Alinia strikes me as the optimist and the jokester, always trying to boost everybody's morale while Gertrud seems to be the quiet lone wolf of the bunch! Their dialogue, actions, and behaviors feel natural!
Clarity:
Most of was happening was clear. The only thing that wasn't clear was exactly how much time had passed between the first little skip. While it isn't the most important thing, it could help with a little clarity as to how long Gertrud and Alinia had been friends, and potentially how close they are!
Specific Things:
She examined the wound with a surgeon’s deft fingertips. And yet she did not have the surgeon’s knowledge or authorization; with a despairing look over at Alinia she let the soldier be.
I like the flow of this paragraph! It definitely shows the reader Gertrud's sorrow about not being able to help the soldier. The only thing that could be changed is the clarity of whose wound it is in the first sentence. It kinda gave me a little bit of a scare in the first read over, because I thought Gertrud was hurt.
One night, far behind the front, she took a lantern and walked out into the woods. Perpectually afraid of the farmers, she usually asked Alinia to accompany her, but this time she didn't want to spend another second alone with her. A thin drizzle soon rose, and as she began to splash about in the mud she reminded herself that no, it was clear of blood.
This entire paragraph feels a tad bit clunky? It feels start-stop when I'm reading it and I feel like it could be smoother.
“Alinia,” she replied as she turned around, catching sight of Alinia's eyes: lit by the two lanterns, they burned brighter than stars.
A beautiful description, I know exactly what's happening and it conjures up a nice mental image!
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/11
He picked it up and squinted at it. By the dim tunnel lights outside he was able to make out three figures, standing side-by-side. Before stopping to really consider what he was doing, Germain took the photograph and stuffed it into his longcoat pocket. Then he sat in the space, hearing little more than distant rumbling. Finally, peace.
It was only when he began to hear more distant commotion that he finally hurried back to the fort. Dawn was arriving.
Later that day, when Germain tucked a letter from his father inside his pocket, he was surprised to find the photograph already inside. He had forgotten about it. But he took it out and began to examine it curiously. Its owner was standing to the left, while an Asian boy was standing in the middle, and another boy with wild chestnut hair stood to his right. They seemed happy, aside from the heaviness in their expression that told Germain this was taken sometime after they were deployed to the front.
Then he wondered about the prisoner, and decided that he ought to return the photograph. That was, when he had the chance. Supplies needed distributing, and he was also due to go to the Tunnel of Tavannes to retrieve fresh water.
But when Germain reached the tunnel, he was dismayed by the conditions. How on earth can this place be meant to house all of these people, when it was so utterly downtrodden? And more than that, how was he supposed to make sure that any supplies wouldn't be contaminated?
Germain was still caught up in his pessimistic worries when he caught sight of a familiar shade of gold nearby. Could it be? And yes, there he was: pushing a cart of what seemed like rations, along with two other prisoners and a supervising junior officer who seemed to recoil ever so slightly whenever his charges made sudden movements.
Germain sighed and let them be, trying to head to where the water was kept, wherever that was in this raggedy tunnel. But he was abruptly stopped by someone bumping into him.
Normally Germain would not have bothered to exchange apologies or insults, but he took a good long pause when he saw the other soldier's face. It was partly hidden by his helmet, but there was the distinctive mole and the protruding tooth, the glint in his eyes.
He could be wrong, of course. But the man was walking away, and if Germain let him go now there was no telling whether he'd see him again.
“Rene, is that you?” he said suddenly, and Rene Leloup turned around to regard him.
441 words! wow there's no z i totally did that on purpose and not because my writing just happened to have no z
He picked it up and squinted at it. By the dim tunnel lights outside he was able to make out three figures, standing side-by-side. Before stopping to really consider what he was doing, Germain took the photograph and stuffed it into his longcoat pocket. Then he sat in the space, hearing little more than distant rumbling. Finally, peace.
It was only when he began to hear more distant commotion that he finally hurried back to the fort. Dawn was arriving.
Later that day, when Germain tucked a letter from his father inside his pocket, he was surprised to find the photograph already inside. He had forgotten about it. But he took it out and began to examine it curiously. Its owner was standing to the left, while an Asian boy was standing in the middle, and another boy with wild chestnut hair stood to his right. They seemed happy, aside from the heaviness in their expression that told Germain this was taken sometime after they were deployed to the front.
Then he wondered about the prisoner, and decided that he ought to return the photograph. That was, when he had the chance. Supplies needed distributing, and he was also due to go to the Tunnel of Tavannes to retrieve fresh water.
But when Germain reached the tunnel, he was dismayed by the conditions. How on earth can this place be meant to house all of these people, when it was so utterly downtrodden? And more than that, how was he supposed to make sure that any supplies wouldn't be contaminated?
Germain was still caught up in his pessimistic worries when he caught sight of a familiar shade of gold nearby. Could it be? And yes, there he was: pushing a cart of what seemed like rations, along with two other prisoners and a supervising junior officer who seemed to recoil ever so slightly whenever his charges made sudden movements.
Germain sighed and let them be, trying to head to where the water was kept, wherever that was in this raggedy tunnel. But he was abruptly stopped by someone bumping into him.
Normally Germain would not have bothered to exchange apologies or insults, but he took a good long pause when he saw the other soldier's face. It was partly hidden by his helmet, but there was the distinctive mole and the protruding tooth, the glint in his eyes.
He could be wrong, of course. But the man was walking away, and if Germain let him go now there was no telling whether he'd see him again.
“Rene, is that you?” he said suddenly, and Rene Leloup turned around to regard him.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Critique <3
First of all, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry for your loss, it sounded like your grandfather meant a lot to you <33 and I don't mean any disrespect in my critique!
Anyways, this is such a sweet story! I love the mix of emotions represented by the flowers and then the memories/thoughts put between each flower. It felt like very natural transitions, and I think you really get across the progression of emotion well with this layering
I also love the flowers you picked for this! Instead of only flowers that focused on sadness, it's super cool that you picked a wide range of emotions, especially the positive ones like for friendship and remembrance. I thought that was a very nice perspective, and not only did it balance out the heavier portions, but it made them more impactful than if you only did the sad flowers? If that makes sense :>
One thing I think you could work on a bit more is consistency with perspective? You change between second person ("I will never forget you“) and third person (”I lay the tulip on his chest") a lot when referring to your grandfather, so I was thinking you can either change it to all be one perspective, or maybe using italics to signify changes to second person!
Also, two tiny comments:
That aside though, this was a really amazing piece! The memories felt so real and impactful, and I especially love the second-to-last paragraph, which was really great closure <3 thanks for letting me read and critique your writing, and I hope my feedback is helpful
and keep in mind you don't have to accept any suggestions if you don't think they fit well with what you have in mind for your piece!
First of all, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry for your loss, it sounded like your grandfather meant a lot to you <33 and I don't mean any disrespect in my critique!
Anyways, this is such a sweet story! I love the mix of emotions represented by the flowers and then the memories/thoughts put between each flower. It felt like very natural transitions, and I think you really get across the progression of emotion well with this layering
I also love the flowers you picked for this! Instead of only flowers that focused on sadness, it's super cool that you picked a wide range of emotions, especially the positive ones like for friendship and remembrance. I thought that was a very nice perspective, and not only did it balance out the heavier portions, but it made them more impactful than if you only did the sad flowers? If that makes sense :>
One thing I think you could work on a bit more is consistency with perspective? You change between second person ("I will never forget you“) and third person (”I lay the tulip on his chest") a lot when referring to your grandfather, so I was thinking you can either change it to all be one perspective, or maybe using italics to signify changes to second person!
Also, two tiny comments:
a willowMost people think of a tree when they see willow, so maybe clarify again that it was a willow flower instead of just writing willow?
taunt me and sayI think “tease” has a better connotation than “taunt,” which sounds kinda negative.
That aside though, this was a really amazing piece! The memories felt so real and impactful, and I especially love the second-to-last paragraph, which was really great closure <3 thanks for letting me read and critique your writing, and I hope my feedback is helpful
and keep in mind you don't have to accept any suggestions if you don't think they fit well with what you have in mind for your piece!Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Nov. 11, 2024 23:56:56)
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
MC Daily 11/12
Sigma Wrizz Camp podcast room, morning
SANDY: Hello everyone, welcome to the podcast! This is your alpha Sandy here on this lovely day, and here we have our esteemed guests. Introduce yourselves… or don't, I mean it's up to you.
MONTY: Well, hello there! I'm Monty the goat, all the way back from three years ago in November ‘21. Since then I think I’ve been around, but I'm been mostly living in my mountain with Sir Winston Churchill!
JIM FLABSDZ: It's me, Jim Flabsdz, the greatest ruler of the GalaxSWC! You should be honored to have me here, you know.
SANDY: …yes I did say you were esteemed guests.
SMARLLS: And I'm Smarlls! I explored the high SWCseas back in the day, just like Mazasa here did.
MAZASA: (blinks awake) Hmm? Sorry, I'm kinda tired - maybe you shouldn't have pulled me out of hibernation for this podcast thing…
He falls back asleep
SANDY: Oopsies!!! Ah well. So now that we have everyone…
KARL MARX bursts into the studio
MARX: DON'T FORGET ME!
SANDY: Were you ever an official mascot, Marx…?
MARC MANGOSEN follows MARX into the studio too.
MARC: I was! Plus, Gurtle, Skog, and Blahaj are all outside too-
SANDY: Why is everyone here?? And I thought basically everyone was interviewing Gurtle!? How do you all have the time for this?
JIM FLABSDZ: A mortal like you can't possibly comprehend our abilities to shift time.
SANDY: …
MONTY: Anyways, you said you wanted to interview us?
SANDY: Right you are. Okay, so for those of you who have been out of the spotlight for a while: what did you do in your spare time? Aside from Monty, since you already answered the question.
MARC: I've been out here haunting the camper signups!! Actually just that one joke one, but you know what I mean.
SMARLLS: Do we?
JIM: And I've been ruling the Sky Kingdom with an iron fist!
SANDY: Uh, okay, good for you man!!!
SMARLLS: And I've been enjoying my life out on the seas again. We may leave SWC, you know, but I don't think we're ever quite forgotten.
JIM: Too right!
A commotion is heard outside the podcast room as the other mascots attempt to break down the door. BALROG's roar is heard.
SANDY: (standing up) Well, folks, it's been a nice trip down memory lane with you! Now sorry to cut our podcast short, but I should really sort this out-
The door opens.
409 words!!
Sigma Wrizz Camp podcast room, morning
SANDY: Hello everyone, welcome to the podcast! This is your alpha Sandy here on this lovely day, and here we have our esteemed guests. Introduce yourselves… or don't, I mean it's up to you.
MONTY: Well, hello there! I'm Monty the goat, all the way back from three years ago in November ‘21. Since then I think I’ve been around, but I'm been mostly living in my mountain with Sir Winston Churchill!
JIM FLABSDZ: It's me, Jim Flabsdz, the greatest ruler of the GalaxSWC! You should be honored to have me here, you know.
SANDY: …yes I did say you were esteemed guests.
SMARLLS: And I'm Smarlls! I explored the high SWCseas back in the day, just like Mazasa here did.
MAZASA: (blinks awake) Hmm? Sorry, I'm kinda tired - maybe you shouldn't have pulled me out of hibernation for this podcast thing…
He falls back asleep
SANDY: Oopsies!!! Ah well. So now that we have everyone…
KARL MARX bursts into the studio
MARX: DON'T FORGET ME!
SANDY: Were you ever an official mascot, Marx…?
MARC MANGOSEN follows MARX into the studio too.
MARC: I was! Plus, Gurtle, Skog, and Blahaj are all outside too-
SANDY: Why is everyone here?? And I thought basically everyone was interviewing Gurtle!? How do you all have the time for this?
JIM FLABSDZ: A mortal like you can't possibly comprehend our abilities to shift time.
SANDY: …
MONTY: Anyways, you said you wanted to interview us?
SANDY: Right you are. Okay, so for those of you who have been out of the spotlight for a while: what did you do in your spare time? Aside from Monty, since you already answered the question.
MARC: I've been out here haunting the camper signups!! Actually just that one joke one, but you know what I mean.
SMARLLS: Do we?
JIM: And I've been ruling the Sky Kingdom with an iron fist!
SANDY: Uh, okay, good for you man!!!
SMARLLS: And I've been enjoying my life out on the seas again. We may leave SWC, you know, but I don't think we're ever quite forgotten.
JIM: Too right!
A commotion is heard outside the podcast room as the other mascots attempt to break down the door. BALROG's roar is heard.
SANDY: (standing up) Well, folks, it's been a nice trip down memory lane with you! Now sorry to cut our podcast short, but I should really sort this out-
The door opens.
- Sandy-Dunes
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)
Critique for Oly <3
Hey Oly! Just to start this off, I don't have any background knowledge of the Magnus Archives except for that it was an horror podcast.
First of all, I got the context pretty well! Basically what I understood first time reading was that Michael was secretly making a map to help this person named Helen, but Elias used some supernatural persuasion powers, which pressured Michael into confessing things willingly instead of being forced to? And then Jon's this pretty high-ranking Archivist guy :p so that's what I made out of this, hopefully it's helpful to know!
Anyways, I really love the characterization you have here! You really got across the all-knowing dangerous vibes of Elias really well, especially in the eyes part and the part with the tape recorder. Michael's horror and desperation is shown really nicely too, and their dynamic feels very corporate if you know what I mean :p (CSLE core!!) like the power Elias holds over Michael's head! The atmosphere of the piece in general is just really tense and dramatic which is neat
Now that's done, I'll get into some line-by-line comments now!
So yeah, that's about it for the critique! Your piece is super cool and I definitely enjoyed reading :> hopefully this critique helps, and remember that you don't have to take anything if you don't think it'd work out well for your piece!
Hey Oly! Just to start this off, I don't have any background knowledge of the Magnus Archives except for that it was an horror podcast.
First of all, I got the context pretty well! Basically what I understood first time reading was that Michael was secretly making a map to help this person named Helen, but Elias used some supernatural persuasion powers, which pressured Michael into confessing things willingly instead of being forced to? And then Jon's this pretty high-ranking Archivist guy :p so that's what I made out of this, hopefully it's helpful to know!
Anyways, I really love the characterization you have here! You really got across the all-knowing dangerous vibes of Elias really well, especially in the eyes part and the part with the tape recorder. Michael's horror and desperation is shown really nicely too, and their dynamic feels very corporate if you know what I mean :p (CSLE core!!) like the power Elias holds over Michael's head! The atmosphere of the piece in general is just really tense and dramatic which is neat
Now that's done, I'll get into some line-by-line comments now!
Being forcefully called into a meeting meant one thing and one thing only, the archival assistant had grown to learn.Honestly I'd write this line as:
He must mentally prepare himself for punishment.
Being forcefully called into a meeting meant one thing and one thing only, the archival assistant had grown to learn: he must mentally prepare himself for punishment.Personally I think it flows a bit better this way :>
nothing you would regularly carry out, though…what I found was quite interestingThe “though” is a bit ambiguous - is it supposed be with the first phrase or the second phrase? Rewriting it might be a good idea:
nothing you would regularly carry out. Though…what I found was quite interesting
nothing you would regularly carry out, though. What I found was quite interestingI'm assuming you meant the first one, but I did get confused my first time reading through, clarifying it a bit more would be helpful :p
I believe there's several thingsIt should be “there are” and not “there's”
Michael- could have been hallucinating, or just letting his Spiral-like tendencies take over- but as his head snapped upwards,I don't think this sentence makes sense with the dashes in? If you just remove them it should be right :>
locking gazes with the otherThis wording is a bit confusing - I'm assuming by “the other” you mean Elias so maybe say that more clearly :0
The Head of the Institute's mouthI would just say “Head's” because this is pretty wordy, and also a bit confusing with the possessive on Institute :p if you want to drop his full title somewhere else (without possessives) that might be a better idea!
The small light emitting from his pupils made the assistant's head spin, as if he was falling into a bout of nausea or vertigo. As if he was wandering the twisted corridors once more.woahh I love this description :0
A hand instinctively began to twirl around a lock of Michael's long, golden hair.This might sound kinda dumb but I was pretty confused by it lol - is the hand Michael's? Because based on what you said later in the paragraph about Elias knowing the habit and breaking him, and the wording in general, I kinda thought that it wasn't Michael's xDD maybe instead saying “Michael's hand” if it is his hand would clear that up :p
As if the words were being ripped from his vocal chords themselves, Michael began to speak in a panicked tone, his body giving a shudder. He felt sick, violated. If he were to have this knowledge ripped from him, he'd rather it be on his terms, and not let his mind be clawed out mercilessly by Elias's compulsion.Also love this part! It's so visceral and the vibes are really cool :0
though emptiness filling his colorful eyesMaybe specify the color of Michael's eyes? I don't think you mentioned it before in the piece but I'm also not sure
He condescended the other as the Head continued, a crackling whirr from the tape creating dissonance in absence of Elias's voice.The pronouns in the first part of the sentence are a bit unclear, and I'm also not quite sure about what you mean by “condescending the other” - but i do love the description in the second half
So yeah, that's about it for the critique! Your piece is super cool and I definitely enjoyed reading :> hopefully this critique helps, and remember that you don't have to take anything if you don't think it'd work out well for your piece!
Last edited by Sandy-Dunes (Yesterday 23:03:10)
- Discussion Forums
- » Things I'm Making and Creating
-
» Sandy's Thread (for writing, history, and other stuff)