8/26/2016

10/18/2016 9:35 AM

16

0

0 wins / 0 losses

Marauder

Congratulations, you've created a branching path. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And I peed on the one less travelled by. And that has made all the difference. Actually, Leather Goddesses of Phobos, used precisely that to ask whether the char was male or female. So, it has precedent.

I am going to beat you silly. CONTINUED! "I know you wish to shock me, and keep my head clear of things best not thought, and I thank you but not in front of poor Tim's Ears" Bassingthwaite said. Sir Wright chuckled. "Begging your pardon ma'am, but there's little Mrs Fumbleton coudl do to shock me. We served against Boney, she cleaned the laundry, and I did my best to get mud & blood on it" "Ah, I had forgotten that. No matter, but a shame neither of your regiments are here. We stand alone, G_d help us" Bassingthwaite said. A crunching sound interrupted them, and they rushed to the candles defence. Eyes were rivetted to a corner of the room, where the first cracks were forming. A horrendous crunch sound echoed, and the firmly curtained windows were firmly flapping rags showcasing the scene beyond. Peels of hysterical shrieks issued from the room, echoed back by a solid wall of high volume vibrations. Beyond the tattered window frames, was a vista of eye-searing blankness, the light from staring at the sun in an unbroken unblemished slate, bordered only by the remaining structure. Structure that was visibly crumbling under such assault, and continued to advance. "Claudette" "Yes Elisabeth?" "Hold my hand please" "Certainly. Tim, take the baritone please. Hail, Britannia, Britannia rules the waves..." The song was sung, the candle flickered out. ~100 words in 20 mins.

You are cordially invited to an afternoon gathering, at Wellingtons Green, End of the world. "My word Mrs Fumbleton, I must tell you this recipe. It is startling in its simplicity" Clothed in her finest raiments, the recipient simpered and nibbled at her brie0and-ham sandwich, replying in soft Cornish vowels. "I told you they were divine, Lady Bassingthwaite, and my thanks. In return, I heard the most scurrilous rumour about Earl Pyke the other day. Seems his kennels stand empty, even while his hounds hunt the streets for a fox!" The curtains flap as if in a strong breeze, a suited servant hurries and fastens it down, securing it tightly.. Titters rose from the couches of the parlor-room, inhabited by the crust of society. Miss May, only recently delivered into their midst looked around nervously. Taking pity on the poor gel (only a shopkeepers daughter after all, hardly likely to know the intricacies of her betters. Still clutched and sheltered by lady Bassingthwaites cloak, even), Mrs Fumbleton leaned in. "His men, his hounds as he calls them, seek an established accomplished wife to give him a deserving heir. His eldest son lays waste to the estate at a blackjack table, more thoroughly then he could ever accomplish in honest labour. Not that he comes within a days ride of that, no fear" So saying, she drained the glass and gestured for another. "And not so stingy on the gin this time, you wretched villain. Your health, sirrah", the gurgling repeated as it was refilled once more to the brim. Lady Bassingthwaite tapped her own glass. "Indeed he does, and it is a shame. Idle hands are the workshop of the devil, or at least one of his lieutenants. Mrs Shropshire, kindly take Miss May and see what's keeping the chef from delivering us from idleness and starvation." Smiling thinly at the two ladies bustling off in bustles, she sighed. "Deligthful creatures in their youth, as engaging as a painting." The hubbub of conversation continued, interspersed with the clink of cutlery and glassware. The merits of the dropnose bridle floated the air, with the new set holding sway but deferring to the wisdom of their elders. Miss may returned, stepping smartly to her host. "The kitchen has .... is .... the chef has retired for the evening" Blushing furiously, she stammers through the sentence. A silence descends, and threatens the flickering candle. Mrs Fumbleton pipes up "No matter, we have more then enough to go around, and plenty squirreled. Be a dear and pull up a pew for yourself, there's a girl. Here's a biscuit and your shawl, quite a pretty one, your finest work so far. Why I remember when your looped stitch looked like a ploughman had done it, and blindfolded into the the bargain...." Nattering on good naturedly, she herded the shaken young lady onto a divan and wrapped her in warmth and cheer, her conversation the most important blanket. Around the candle restored, keeping the people lit, keeping the abyss at bay. Cracks were still visible, plastered over with enforced joviality and in a pinch, by being steadily plastered by drink. Two servants moved a cupboard over the doorway, enforcing an architectural dictate mandating the dissappearance of the kitche, and the draughts coming from it's absence. Lady Bassingthwaite & Mrs Fumbleton exhcanged a glance, and continued their roles. They had known each other for years, sharing the labours and hardship of life, love and society. here, they needed few words. Once miss May's shaking had subsided, they stepped out to the foyer, out of sight of the candle for a few moments, shielded from the gales they contained. A servant was sent off, and the butler Sir Wright, joined them. "Bad?" "Yes your ladyship. The kitchen came unhorsed with the ladies inside, only got ot the younger in time." "Damnatinons Tim. I had known Adria since Roger was a boy." She sighed an paced. "No word?" "No ma'am, none since the telegraph yesterday." "Ridiculous contraption, I've always said so Elisabeth" Mrs Fumbleton said, wiping an invisible stain from her sleeve in an unconscious tic" "Quite so, Claudette. Even so, we did what we could when the news came through. The question stands, what do we do now" Bassingthwaite said. "If we had some more men, I'd say to roger them silly, put some joy in their hearts and parts" Fumbleton said.

Ffs. I knew it was familiar. Two paragraphs in 4 months, and it needs more showtime? Seeing as you didnt put the slightest attention to feedback last time, why will it be different now? Or will you be releasing the story paragraph by paragraph, demanding CONSTRUCTIVE feedback each time? Cause hey, once is fine, twice is eyerolling, thrice is ignored, precisely when you will need feedback again.

Feedback on your feedback. Love, if you want to pretend constructive means positive, thats your lookout. But seems reading and comprehending arent strong skills of yours, so you might need to add some actual books to your browsing history, before putting some defenseless story up for the harsh critique of ...... Actual, positive, constructive feedback. The horror.

I swear youve posted this before. If you havent, thats even worse, cause it highlights how similar this is to half a dozen other stories. Blah blah, affectionate dimunutive for a victim. Blah blah, humanity is a sickness. Blah blah, stabbing. Read it all before. It sounds like a person monologuing at a typewriter, writing their thoughts of what a torturer would think/say/do, not like something thats alive, struggling to breath through blood-filled nostrils, straining against the bonds. Its just passively lying there while you beat it with a keyboard. Work the senses, work the mind, not just the mouth and hands. Use language thats appropriate to the scene. Here eyes fixated on the blade, sounds like she's shopping for a dress. Her eyes are pierced by the glitter shining in the hurricane lamp, transfixed as surely as if it was already plunged into the socket. See the difference?

Thrown through the clarifier. "Dragons, scifi tech, I can put on my suspension of disbelief for that. but going left instead of right at restaurants for doors, thats the line. And because thats confusing to me, I think its confusing to every other girl, so there should be a tag saying Girl to remove the ambiguity, the ambiguity that I cant really define, but its ambiguous" Hows that?

Strike 4, you used you (and derivatives) twice in a sentence, but neither time properly. "You're trying to help" (it's a contraction of you are), "you", not u ('nuff said). You could rephrase it, to "Your feedback..." It's little things like how you word a sentence that seem off, and disincline me and others to work with you. You might have a wonderful idea or two, but you need to demonstrate some sort of actual follow through, to be taken seriously. Plenty of half done collaborations litter the halls cause one person put in a fair effort, and the others didn't.

Strike 3, your response to feedback is lacklustre. Better then ragin, but not a lot of passion, conviction or emotion conveyed.

That inspires even less confidence. Mashing stuff together can work if you focus on a very very small aspect of them. One of the bounty hunters Darth Vader recruits to hunt the rebels, and a mentioned student move into an apartment together, sort of scale (original characters have a few flaws in themselves, so best to use someone at least mentioned). If you want Luke to go for smoothies with McGonogall and thwart Voldy's latest hijinx, then congrats, you've got a very specific vision, and don't need writers/editors, and you need to write quite well. After all, you are appropriating two well known, well loved chars for your own ends, and if you can't equal your audiences expectations, why would they read?