Writing Thread

[Charles Bukkake !!dbC6x/DQFYo No.5494290]

Critique Thread. Post your work. I'll try to review everyone who posts this afternoon.

[Anonymous No.5494319]

>>5494290
Would you accept something in a highly unfinished state?

[Charles Bukkake !!dbC6x/DQFYo No.5494328]

>>5494319
Of course. That's the point of this thread.

[Anonymous No.5494372]

Ha! Here they all are! Soaked in knowledge and lack of individual reflections, that yes, exist. Having indulged in lifestyles without even realising it, the girl does not point the tramps leaning on the wall. Here she thought: do not be like the others, but unwittingly demonstrating absolute unconsciousness, mixes among all others. Oh yes! Independent music, retro and of course this idea of reflexion, this way of existing, thinking she had made it, arriving at the paroxysm of justice, virtue! Ah, it is with much effort that she comes to a similar state to the next. Whoever with feathers in his hair, or wearing a dress suit in the style of Mickey, waddles and smiles so silly, not feigning happiness, because this one completely absorbed by the unrestrained cycle of life. Unconsciousness takes over and lays us a sublime child exactly like his neighbour.

[Anonymous No.5494388]

Ha! Here they all are! Soaked in knowledge and lack of individual reflections, that yes, exist. Having indulged in lifestyles without even realising it, the girl does not point the tramps leaning on the wall. Here she thought: do not be like the others, but unwittingly demonstrating absolute unconsciousness, mixes among all others. Oh yes! Independent music, retro and of course this idea of reflexion, this way of existing, thinking she had made it, arriving at the paroxysm of justice, virtue! Ah, it is with much effort that she comes to a similar state to the next. Whoever with feathers in his hair, or wearing a dress suit in the style of Mickey, waddles and smiles so silly, not feigning happiness, because this one is completely absorbed by the unrestrained cycle of life. Unconsciousness takes over and lays us a sublime child exactly like his neighbour.

[Anonymous No.5494404]

>>5494290
I know its shit and I'm not a native, but here it goes.
The Reaper

The implants were painful. Cronically so. I mean for the first couple of months. My immune system fortunately or unfortunately didn't reject them. Depending on your viewpoint. The immunosupressors did their job. They have been developed to such an extent where only one third dies from them. Back than I thought that it was the worst to die on the first step, the farthest from the goal, only because of your immunity system. But, obviously, I survived. I also survived the training, I can't say that it was easy. Because it wasn't. They don't let anyone pilot. But I reached my first immersion. I held out and survived and was a stronger person afterwards. Well, at least I saw it like that back than. Because, naive as I was I actually believed that the survival of mankind was depending amongst other things on me. Back than I trusted my superiors, my teachers, my coluages. I was so firmly formed that mankind was my ideal and my God. In that regard I was no different than the other soldiers. Back than I was ready to give my life for that meaningless cause. I believed all those things until that faithful day. On that day I was finally crimbing in my reaper. In his black body, smooth and shiny, that was at the same time as elegant as the most beautiful girl in a black dress in the color of the night and as cruel as a child that is tearing the limbs of a spider that was unlucky enough to be seen. It had long arms with sharp fingers which were destined to become my hands and the tools of my wrongdoings, the hands that were to be my sin and my despair. That warm red eye was to be my unreal window to reality. It stood there like a personification of death in that hangar, frightening and irresistible with its five meters on those long slender legs. A crane lifted me up and I sat down on my seat like a pawn that I was. It was quite cold, me being only in my trousers in that huge hangar. The lid closed. I was afraid. The unknown is always frightening. Especially in absolute darkness. The terrifying and well known needles slowly and painfully pierced my skull, better to say my brain, in six places and in thirty-three on my along my spine. That cold metal induced an unusual sort of pain, the kind of pain from which you do not scream, but you do cry. I suddenly heard a countdown from the reapers central computer in a gentle synthetic voice that very much reminded my of some middle aged teacher. Three. Two. One. Immersion. Void. All my senses disappeared. I no longer felt my body. I didn't hear. I didn't see. I didn't taste. Nothing. Absolute emptiness. An unbelievable sensation of nothingness. Only thought.

[Anonymous No.5494408]

>>5494404
Only thought. Only we pilots have the bad luck to sense the abyss in our lives. I was like a self-aware soul without a body floating space. Until that one certain moment when all the senses went crazy. Pain, pleasure, sweet, salty, sour, acidly, dark, light. Complete chaos. Soon they stabilized and from chaos perfect order was formed. But those senses weren't of my body. They were of my machine. I stood up. Well not me alone. Me and my reaper. His body has become mine. Sensations which were felt by his body were felt by me and they have become as real as those that come from my own nerves. The dents in his body shall overcome pain in my consciousness. As fantastic as this may seem it is it was all side effects of the technology. The most important thing in it was the perception and data processing. Time had become twisted. My brain was working at seventy percent of its capacity. The reaper's generator was feeding it energy and my body wasn't stalling it down. I was looking at my hands. Those sharp, long, black and metal, those sinful and bloody. I turned my head. The reaper's head. Ericteba was looking at me with the red eye of her machine. I heard her voice in my head. It was not a memory, it was a message sent through the web of consciousness. She told me she was afraid. I told her there was no reason for fear. I told her that everything was going to be all right. Was it going to be?

[Anonymous No.5494411]

>>5494408
According to the minimap data they were in formations of three circling the entire base. One reaper against three. Piece of cake I thought. And for once I was actually right. They had fired their projectiles. They were a sort of grubs, masses of biological material intelligent enough to guide themselves towards me. They flew in a high speed. But because of the conditition my brain was in I was not only able to count them, give them names and sing them a lullaby, I was also able to graciously dodge while running in the direction of those things. I dodged one, jumped over the second, slided beneath the third and so on until I was close enough to strike. They showed no fear. In the end how would they? They were worthless, they were non-humans. I jumped on one. While jumping I observed their slow reactions, they were a few seconds slower than my movements. One of the fools didn't know what had hit it as I landed on its equivalent of shoulders and smashed my hand in its neck and extended it inside it, looking for a control organ.

[Anonymous No.5494414]

>>5494411
I ripped it out and jumped behind two others. I tore one in two with pure brute force and brought the other down on the ground to tear it to pieces. All of this played in less than a minute. I contacted the rest and told them I was finished with this part of the operation. We only had to flush the workers out of their hives. We injected poisons in them. They ran out like ants, not knowing where to go, in a delirium of sorts I suppose, running randomly, each in a different direction. In that moment anger attacked me like a demon alongside his companion hate. One of the workers was particular ugly. She had a large abdomen and I could almost feel my hate manifested in the air around me. I grabbed her with my sinful sharp fingers. She was bleeding blue blood. I plucked one of its limbs. I heard a scream of agony that filled me with immense pleasure. At that moment I thought it couldn't be wrong. The joy of violence was filling my being. I severed another. It was screaming less, possibly due to blood loss. In that moment something had struck me. I lost my vision and all other senses. A darkness overtook me again. Or was it inside of me before? I do not know. But when my sight returned I noticed human bodies laying in pools of blood, piss and puke. I noticed that something was still in my hand. I looked and saw a grotesque beauty, a pregnant woman with her arms torn off and tears in her eyes.

[Anonymous No.5494417]

>>5494414
And I know it's bad and has a lot of shit in it, but I liked writing it since I just wanted some mecha shit.

[Anonymous No.5494438]

>>5494328
OK, these are some fragments of a poem I started about two years ago but never got round to completing. Is it worth picking up again or no?
_____

Such music fire beckons
In the hollows and the smoothness

A stormish, lithe gold

Arches and plies
Beneath the weight of my stare

Compress me to a cipher of a man


And suddenly, I’ve
Nothing to say;
Disdain drops in me like a sickness;
That green gaze communicates only
Fear: slow, guttural fear
– Of inadequacy.

[Anonymous No.5494446]

Rate my intro

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet
hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare,
sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole,
and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a
shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a
tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke,
with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished
chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond
of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight
into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round
called it - and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side
and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms,
bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole
rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same
floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the
left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows,
deep-set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond,
sloping down to the river.

[Anonymous No.5494465]

>>5494446
just realised how shit this is

[Anonymous No.5494475]

>>5494438
I like the atmosphere, but dislike the form. I like my sonets.

[Anonymous No.5494487]

>>5494475
It has no form yet. I only got as far as writing those isolated fragments.

[Anonymous No.5494501]

I am prancing in a field of angry bonerflowers, their large shroom shaped heads undulating in the gentle breeze which was like a puff of air escaping from between the lips of a glistening cunt.
"Phalli" I muttered. "A field of phalli. Beautiful."
Here I dance in a field of bonerroses soliloquizing about the fleshy petals.

[Anonymous No.5494505]

>>5494501
Absolutely disgusting.
I mean it.

[Anonymous No.5494532]

>>5494487
Well than there might be hope anon :)
I like where it can go.

[Anonymous No.5494545]

>>5494505
"I love you Jesus Christ."
The sun stroked my exposed thighs. I felt the roses against my skin as I pranced through the field. I paused to bend over and pick one its root, and gave it a long, deep sniff. It smelled like the sea.

[Anonymous No.5494590]

>>5494290

from the pupil

black stream purling

ink is liquid

dreaming seems

[Anonymous No.5494598]

>>5494545
B- for effort jeff magnum

[Anonymous No.5494691]

>>5494532
Sweet, I guess maybe I'll carry on then

[Anonymous No.5494738]

The lone droplet fell from the clouds above,
slicing the border between Earth and Sky.
Spurred not by purpose but a lack thereof,
separated from a dark plume up high.

Its sudden plunge backdropped by darkness,
illuminated by distant stars.
Its size dwarfed further by the vastness
of the black canvas it dared to scar.

Pieces of it separated;
the rapid descent took its toll.
Then the pieces dissipated
leaving their host no longer whole.

It crashed among sand and dirt
where it's now for Earth to keep.
And although lonely its birth,
sad its end, Sky did not weep.

[Anonymous No.5494824]

>>5494738

Liked this a lot.

[Anonymous No.5494848]

>>5494824
Thanks!

[Anonymous No.5494855]

>>5494404
>My immune system fortunately or unfortunately didn't reject them. Depending on your viewpoint. The immunosupressors did their job.
this shouldnt all be one sentence.

[Anonymous No.5494902]

What's in the night for the applesauce crew,
stuck in their seats since ol' 62,
and if there's a name
for how long they've gone lame,
it's the moonlighter spirit
that keeps 'em the same.

The flickering hum, the guitars they've all strummed,
this music to dreams
far outta the sun,
the flash of those dresses and lipstick and gum,
and the change it won't come, the tabs they've all run.

"I took a drive to the city today, and out in the streets
they've all come out to say: I'm bored and I'm scared
and their souls they all bared, and I'm standing there,
tryna act like I care, and got on the train, and I got away."

Sez one and they nod, and they all pray to God,
the image of war still comes boxed with the mind.

They're the first of their kind, and the last they all fear,
Though damned if they say it, and sure nobody hears.
With a toothpick he draws on the table a chart
of some kind, to explain in some game the shadows behind:

"Y'see it's real easy, once y'know how to see,
Transistors 'n' fluoride, or Comrade Granmsci,
It's the work of the bureau, or the Nazis I'm sure,"
and they nod and crease slyly, and drink their liqueur.

The jukebox it plays to tune they designed,
sounding Moonstone with fuga per canonem in mind,
and hollowed out faces are some portrait obscured,
the American Gothic their art is assured.

"Well rhythm for me, I'm sure you agree,
is a symbol of purest MED-EE-OH-CRI-TEE,
and I see it returning, to the soul of all things",
and they nod and frown slyly, these neon lit kings.

And sure the light's changing, it's a quarter to eight,
and the pancakes gone sour on the Guernica plate,
and the seats that are empty, though the toast still remains,
are ignored seats of stranger, hung black with the rain.

[Anonymous No.5495053]

Here's the first page or so of a short story I'm working on. I posted the first paragraph in an earlier thread, and it got good reviews.

Be warned, though, it's fantasy.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NyQVNiRaf-P-5YdjI2zbDdrm1hFQjcdRUG1PGA9dUwQ/edit

[Anonymous No.5495105]

>>5495053
>https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NyQVNiRaf-P-5YdjI2zbDdrm1hFQjcdRUG1PGA9dUwQ/edit


Stopped reading at 'the crimson leaves went dancing'. Sorry to be so fucking harsh, but that's just aweful. Read aloud what you wrote. It's a cliche beyond itself, a whole cloud of arragent prose intoxicated the piece for me.

I honestly did not read beyond that first sentence, not even out of curiosity.

[Anonymous No.5495109]

>>5495105
While I'm always happy to accept criticism, I'm hesitant to take any shit from someone who can't even spell 'awful.'

[Anonymous No.5495139]

>>5495109

Then I guess you're doomed to unhappiness.

[Anonymous No.5495144]

Here is the first paragraph of my short story and could use some feedback

I heard those words rumble in the back of my head, continuously creating the reckless sensation of simplicity. “I will never forget” she said, “I will never forget”. At first I felt that the need to think, to ponder why she had given me that grace. But whilst in the blissfulness of solitude I could only create the conclusion that not only did it matter not, but that she never really did say that: my imagination had changed the perception of her words. But I should begin my story from the start; I remember watching that calendar shift; June 26th I read.

[Anonymous No.5495160]

>>5495144

It's over-worrked. You didn't set a scene of continuous interest. Work from a clear thought to begin a complex one, becaue we're not you; we only see what you write.

[Anonymous No.5495171]

>>5494902

Plain incoherent. It's like you took acid and smashed your face into the keyboard as if it was the only way of converying your thoughts.

[Anonymous No.5495181]

>>5494438
Too revealing with not enough intrigue. You failed to tease before you fucked. The poem was decent, but stunted in presentation.

[Anonymous No.5495199]

thanks for the feedback, could work on it

[Anonymous No.5495359]

>>5494738
I enjoyed this. Well done.

[Anonymous No.5496737]

>>5494855
Ok, thanks. Anything else?

[Anonymous No.5496835]

>>5494404
stop