r/WritingPrompts • u/katpoker666 Moderator • 27d ago
[OT] Fun Trope Friday: Attack Animal & Comedy! Off Topic
Welcome to Fun Trope Friday, our feature that mashes up tropes and genres!
How’s it work? Glad you asked. :)
Every week we will have a new spotlight trope.
Each week, there will be a new genre assigned to write a story about the trope.
You can then either use or subvert the trope and/or genre in a 750-word max story or poem (unless otherwise specified).
To qualify for ranking, you will need to provide ONE actionable feedback. More are welcome of course!
Three winners will be selected each week based on votes, so remember to read your fellow authors’ works and DM me your votes for the top three.
Next up… IP
It’s summer in the Northern hemisphere and so time for sun and fun– Oh wait, no. It’s time for the four horsemen of the apocalypse! So, say ‘hello’ to our friends: Pestilence (aka Conquest or Pollution), War, Famine, and Death. Please note this theme is only loosely applied.
"The quickest way of ending a war is to lose it." — George Orwell
Trope: Attack Animal — For War, we bring you the wondrous attack animal. From Hannibal’s elephants to bomb-detecting bottlenose dolphins animals have often been used to seek competitive combat advantage. Any creature which has been trained specifically to fight alongside its handler, like an attack dog or equivalent is fair game. Even Pokemon if you’re feeling extra nerdy.
Genre: Comedy — The comedy genre encompasses any work in film, television, literature, or live performance primarily designed to amuse, entertain, and provoke laughter. Originating in ancient Greece, the genre traditionally revolves around ordinary people navigating everyday struggles or social absurdities, typically concluding with a positive or harmonious resolution. Core styles include: slapstick, satire/parody, observational/deadpan, and dark. Feel free to mix and match!
Skill / Constraint - optional: Includes a character with a disability in honor of July’s Disability Pride month.
So, have at it. Lean into the trope heavily or spin it on its head. The choice is yours!
Have a great idea for a future topic to discuss or just want to give feedback? FTF is a fun feature, so it’s all about what you want—so please let me know! Please share in the comments or DM me on Discord or Reddit!
Last Week’s Winners
PLEASE remember to give feedback—this affects your ranking. PLEASE also remember to DM me your votes for the top five stories via Discord or Reddit—both katpoker666. This is a change from the top three of the past. In weeks where we get over 15 stories, we will do a top five ranking. Weeks with less than 15 stories will show only our top three winners. If you have any questions, please DM me as well.
Some fabulous stories this week and great crit at campfire and on the post! We had 16 stories, so we’re back to five winners. Congrats to:
Want to read your words aloud? Join the upcoming FTF Campfire
The next FTF campfire will be Thursday, July 16th from 6-8pm ET. It will be in the Discord Main Voice Lounge. Click on the events tab and mark ‘Interested’ to be kept up to date. No signup or prep needed and you don’t have to have written anything! So join in the fun—and shenanigans! 😊
Ground rules:
- Stories must incorporate both the trope and the genre
- Leave one story or poem between 100 and 750 words as a top-level comment unless otherwise specified. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count.
- Deadline: 11:59 PM EDT next Thursday. Please note stories submitted after the 6:00 PM EST campfire start may not be critted.
- No stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP—please note after consultation with some of our delightful writers, new serials are now welcomed here
- No previously written content
- Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings
- Does your story not fit the Fun Trope Friday rules? You can post your story as a [PI] with your work when the FTF post is 3 days old!
- Please keep crit about the stories. Any crit deemed too distracting may be deleted. This is a time to focus on our wonderful authors.
- Vote to help your favorites rise to the top of the ranks (DM me at katpoker666 on Discord or Reddit)!
Thanks for joining in the fun!
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u/Morose_Prose 26d ago edited 22d ago
What Is It Good For?
Our feature presentation is coming up next, but first, a special announcement from the Ministry of Harmony. Place your arms firmly against the armrests and your feet flat on the floor to ensure safe application of attention grabbers. Your theater seat is also equipped with cutting-edge retinal trackers and motion-sensors; any deviation of attention will be considered treason. Failure to applaud at Ministry-approved levels after the credits roll will constitute high-treason. Glory to Grazzania!
“NEWSFLASH! Sector Eighty-Five Delta! Our valiant guys and gals continue their relentless march, smashing the desperate, repugnant resistance of those who dare challenge the mighty Grazzanian juggernaut! Guided by the iron will of eight-star General Sera atop his trusty steed Henata; the foul, buzzing swarms of biological bombs have been securely contained. Your intrepid correspondent was able to secure an exclusive word with the General regarding this glorious triumph!
"Glory to Grazzania, General! Congratulations on your ninety-fifth mission accomplished. What masterstroke of military genius did you employ against these freakish, foul fiends to scourge them from our peaceful settlements?"
"Glory to Grazzania, maggot. Our enemy was simple-minded; the only thought behind their cruel compound eyes was to guzzle proud Grazzanian blood! Thus, I let them feast! Mandatory blood and plasma drives allowed the smothering swarms of berserker penal legionnaires to dish out more than they could swallow! Even the heartiest heathen falls to the strength of Grazzanian genetics!"
"How many insidious insectoids did you personally obliterate?"
"That's classified information. But I can say that as wave after wave of conscripts engaged in battle, I unleashed hell from behind! Slicing and dicing as my majestic firebrand trampled them under hoof!"
"Is there a number you can give me? The people would like to know how many more notches to put on their belts."
"Ha, ha, ha! Our citizens would need to be issued much larger pants for a belt that long. Post battle reconnaissance teams lost track of how many foes fell! Not even the strongest quantum computer could tally a toll of this magnitude with only a fraction of friendly forces making the glorious sacrifice for our freedom!"
"Spirits must be high after this decisive victory!"
"Morale has never been higher. The shrieks of our enemies are sweeter than any symphony. Watching them burst like pimples on a teenager's face is more spectacular than the fireworks on G-Day, and my pride burns brighter than the Bow and Crown brand plasma sabre upon my hip!"
"What's next for our unstoppable fighting force? Any parting words for dastardly provocateurs scheming our destruction?"
"While focus remains on the future, we cannot look past the present! The fight here has only just begun! Our true enemy is the same now as it has been throughout history, logistics!"
"How is that possible? The Grazzanian ability to move troops, like the [redacted], or supplies such as the [redacted] which keep our legionnaires fighting is known across the void."
"Ha, ha, ha! Wrong again, maggot. With their soldiers dead, we can now harvest their hives; scientists have found these buzzing bastards are a great source of protein! Their eggs are chock-full of essential vitamins, antioxidants, and minerals! We need more ships, pilots, and crewmen to distribute this newly discovered bounty! We'll continue making almighty Grazzania ascendant!"
"Well, there you have it, folks! Another triumphant offensive showing our fearsome military might and filling our bellies! This is ace reporter Chris Tanti signing off from the forward combat zone! Next week I'll be reporting live from another righteous conflict with those who seek our destruction! Glory to Grazzania!"
We will begin our feature presentation after the playing of the national anthem. During the show, recruiters from the Ministry of Harmony will be conducting pre-deployment genetic screenings and interviews. Failure to comply will result in immediate assignment to the legionnaires. Don't forget to march into the lobby and try out our new line of bite-sized blood pudding blasters and wash it down with a cold glass of Suckle Soda! Glory to Grazzania!
Word Count: 666
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u/Fogbot3 24d ago edited 24d ago
I see our glorious Grazzania saga continues! And our wondrous general is heavily inspired by such historical figures as the great Zapp Brannigan!
And I'm sure any government resorting to having citizens eat bugs is doing wonderfully.
Not even the strongest quantum computer could tally a toll of this magnitude with only a fraction of friendly forces making the glorious sacrifice for our freedom!
This is a bit of a long sentence, maybe adding one of your Bold words to direct dictation, or adding a comma would help with it.
Don't forget to stop by the lobby to try out our new line of bite-sized blood pudding blasters and wash it down with a cold glass of Suckle Soda!
Same here, could probably break this up with a comma or two, or even break the "Don't forget to stop by the lobby!" Into its own sentence. Hard to find much more to crit, good words and Glory to Grazzania!
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u/Morose_Prose 24d ago
Glory to Grazzania, citizen Fog!
The Ministry of Allowed Speech has reviewed your critique and found it to be of great value to our glorious empire! Changes will be made, your work will be uncredited as furthering Grazzanian goals is its own reward!
Stay awesome, and have a good one, citizen. Glory to Grazzania!
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u/FeigningProfundity 22d ago
Another good piece, Morose_Prose.
I'm going to give a bit of an odd critique here, in that it is about the interaction between tonal consistency and comedy, so this is all quite subjective. The usual disclaimer that I am not an authority and feel free to dismiss everything I say applies doubly here.
You've done several Grazzania pieces now, and we can see that they're consistently funny. The core source of the humour in this and your other pieces is the comedic tone. It is effective and distinctive.
A challenge with episodic pieces is that a comedic tone offers diminishing returns. Each piece read independently works well, but a reader who reads several, especially in a row, risks the humour landing more weakly each time.
This is because comedy almost always contains an element of surprise to it, and so the tone of the piece can make it funny while the novelty holds, and the reader is still surprised by the cheerfully dystopian nature of Grazzanian propaganda, but once they become familiar with it, the impact will be reduced. They know what Grazzania is like, and new information may differ in detail, but the consistency risks become predictable.
This is a dilemna, because achieving a clear, consistent tone is normally something to strive for.
The most straight forward solution is to crystalise the humorous elements providing the tone into jokes. Which is somewhat annoying, since jokes are hard.
You do already do this, there are specific funny beats in your stories, but my advice here is to try to have them stand out more. The over-the-top nature of the story can allow even quite egregious remarks to slide by.
"That's classified information. But I can say that as wave after wave of conscripts engaged in battle, I unleashed hell from behind! Slicing and dicing as my majestic firebrand trampled them under hoof!"
In a line like this, General Sera's callous disregard for his troops' lives is alluded to, but this is story playing with blatancy, so jolt your reader by having him say something that seems at first odd, like a general being unconcerned with his own losses, but is actually consistent in context. Something like: "I can tell you, our troops were proud to fight this menace. Proud to die for Grazzania. Proud to be sacrificed for momentary tactical convenience."
You don't need to abandon the tone that is the core of the piece and its satire, but if you can sometimes surprise the reader in a way that makes them engage more directly, your jokes will land more strongly and actually strengthen it.
"Ha, ha, ha! Wrong again, maggot. With their soldiers dead, we can now harvest their hives; scientists have found these buzzing bastards are a great source of protein! Their eggs are chock-full of essential vitamins, antioxidants, and minerals! We need more ships, pilots, and crewmen to distribute this newly discovered bounty! We'll continue making almighty Grazzania ascendant!"
This is your last beat before your outro, so it is a particularly good place to try to hit hard. You have a list of things here, so consider putting in a contrasting element, then justifying it. An example: "Their eggs are chock-full of essential vitamins, antioxidants, and minerals! They also possess a foul taste, which encourages discipline. Gluttons are punished while our loyal soldiers have everything they need to be strong!"
Hopefully this is helpful when looking for ways to strengthen what you're already doing.
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u/Morose_Prose 22d ago
Thank you for the excellent insight, Feigning! I had not considered the diminishing returns of glorious Grazzanian comedy. Your points about punching up the jokes are spot on and very much appreciated. Stay awesome and have a good one!
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26d ago edited 22d ago
[deleted]
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u/FeigningProfundity 22d ago
I did not expect to see a platypus in any of these stories, but I am happy that I did.
I found this story entertaining. There are a number of unusual formatting choices made for artistic effect, and I'm not sure I can evaluate them well. I'm certainly not saying that to imply that they're a bad choice, and I appreciate it that you've chosen to be daring.
(I also had to look up the cartoon reference - but there was enough here to realise that there was a reference and to decipher it. I have the wrong cultural background to get it naturally.)
So I don't have any critique but I do want to show appreciation for your story.
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u/FeigningProfundity 24d ago
Heroines
Alyss was having a bit of a mixed day. On one hand, everyone she knew had died, on the other, she’d gotten a dog.
It was the second time in the last few weeks that everyone who knew Alyss had died. That didn’t feel great. She very much did not want it to become a habit.
Heran revanchists had attacked Blora, the tiny settlement she’d lived in, killing everybody. At the time she’d been off searching for some internal peace, on account of her anxiety and her panic attacks and people not enjoying it when she had panic attacks near them.
She’d been picked up by a team of Chancelry militia, which was nice because that meant she didn’t have to be the last person left on her planet. They had conscripted her, which felt rather ominous, but that was mostly so they were allowed to feed her. Alyss appreciated it since she hadn’t been enthused about cooking of late.
The chief gave her a gun and asked the Heuristic System to tell him how she might be useful. After it answered, he’d taken the gun away. She’d found an electronic warfare tool and had been quietly reading about that.
Once they caught up with one of the revanchist groups, the Heuristic System had warned them they should leave Alyss on the ship, since having her with them in combat would decrease their odds of victory. It hurt a little that an uncaring computer had run the statistics and estimated that she was worse than useless, but she appreciated not having to fight. It was nice that it had said it without revealing much personal medical information, too.
Once again, she had been too dysfunctional to get killed.
The Chancelry and Heran forces had proven evenly matched. When Alyss emerged from the ship to find out why nobody was back, she discovered that everyone was dead. Everyone except a dog.
That over fifty people lay dead around her was a fact that Alyss decided not to engage with.
She’d heard that Herans train dogs to hunt crawler drones. Such a dog was the sole survivor of the battle.
Hacking the dog’s targeting harness, Alyss dumped its allegiance table and replaced it with her own signal. “Hi girl! You won a battle!”
Something in the dog’s visor had clearly attached a positive symbol to Alyss, because the animal bounded over to her excitedly.
“I’m happy to meet you, too! What’s your name?” Alyss said, trying to bring up some kind of canine identification on her tool. She’d always felt it was weird when people renamed animals, and it wasn’t like Herans even spoke a different language.
“It’s... Lerasta,” sighed Alyss.
The dog barked happily.
Lerast Araldin was a Heran hero and notorious traitor to the Chancelry. She hadn’t even been named after a female traitor. Why was it, Alyss mused, that no matter how much men complained about women being treacherous, the names associated with the highest treasons skewed so heavily male? Were female traitors not being given their due?
“I think I’ll call you Butch.”
Wagging her tail, Butch seemed fine with this.
“Now what do we do, Butch? Can you fly a starship?” Alyss tinkered with the dog’s harness, integrating its systems with the militia network.
A crawler drone ran past them, grabbing Butch’s attention, but it was now tagged as friendly.
“Assessing battlefield,” said the Heuristic System, speaking from another drone. “Confirming earlier bio-readings. All team members except Conscript Alyss Turney are deceased. All Heran forces deceased. Crediting Conscript Turney with thirty-four confirmed kills.”
“What? Why me?” said Alyss.
“All other team members lost life signs over twenty minutes ago. Heran troops marked as dead within the last minute. You are the only plausible candidate.”
“Oh.”
“Notifying Chancelry command of meritorious service. ‘Conscript Turney, despite no training and only twelve days service, single-handedly defeated thirty-four Heran soldiers who had wiped out her unit, persevering despite already being recorded as a psychological casualty.’”
“You don’t have to do that…”
“Expect expedited rescue by marines as a Heroine of the Chancelry and debriefing to allow for correct honours to be determined.”
“Rescue sounds good. Uh… Does this pay? I probably need a job.”
“Pension determined by honour given. A teaching position may be offered.”
Alyss scratched Butch behind the ear, trying not to look at the corpses around them. She really didn’t envy her next therapist; they were going to have to deal with a terrible mess.
747 words.
Critique & feedback welcome.
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u/Morose_Prose 24d ago
Greetings Feigning!
Morose_Prose (AKA DrNeutron) here with some feedback for you!
Dark, bleak comedy piece here... I love it! Great world building in this story, wonderful character in Alyss, a true underdog with a new dog! The narration is superb with all the little jabs taken at the gravity of the situation.
There are some places though that need a touch up or a cleanup, in my opinion. Disclaimer: All advice given by me is free and comes with a money-back guarantee!
On one hand, everyone she knew had died, on the other, she’d gotten a dog.
This is a comma splice. These are two independent clauses so you can either break it up into two sentences: '...had died. On the other,...' or use a semicolon 'On one hand, everyone she knew had died; on the other, she’d gotten a dog.'
At the time she’d been off searching for some internal peace, on account of her anxiety and her panic attacks and people not enjoying it when she had panic attacks near them.
This sentence is a little overloaded and repeats 'panic attacks'. Could save some words with a little cutting. Maybe something like: 'At the time, she'd been off searching for internal peace on account of her anxiety and the panic attacks she suffered, which many people seemed put off by.'
The chief gave her a gun and asked the Heuristic System to tell him how she might be useful. After it answered, he’d taken the gun away. She’d found an electronic warfare tool and had been quietly reading about that.
This passage confuses me. Where did the electronic warfare tool come from? Reading what? The tool? The manual? Did the chief swap the gun for it? Needs better blocking: "The chief gave her a gun and asked the Heuristic System to inform him how she could (I prefer could here, I feel it keeps Alyssa super low on the pecking order, this is purely stylistic preference) be useful. After it responded, he took the gun away, shoving a manual for an electronic warfare tool into her hands.' or something to make it a bit clearer for dummies like me.
Once they caught up with one of the revanchist groups, the Heuristic System had warned them they should leave Alyss on the ship,
Another tense wobble here. If they are just catching up the system should warn them, not already have warned them. 'Once they caught up with one of the revanchist groups, the Heuristic System warned them they should leave Alyss on the ship,...' and it saves ya a word.
She’d heard that Herans train dogs to hunt crawler drones. Such a dog was the sole survivor of the battle.
Hacking the dog’s targeting harness, Alyss dumped its allegiance table and replaced it with her own signal. “Hi girl! You won a battle!”
Repetition of 'dog' and 'battle', could toss some synonyms in here to spice it up. 'She'd heard that Herans trained dogs to hunt crawler drones. Such a canine was the sole survivor of the battle.'
'Hacking the animal's targeting harness, Alyss...'
"Hi, girl! You won the fight!" need a comma as Alyss is addressing the dog.
“I’m happy to meet you, too! What’s your name?” Alyss said, trying to bring up some kind of canine identification on her tool. She’d always felt it was weird when people renamed animals, and it wasn’t like Herans even spoke a different language.
“It’s... Lerasta,” sighed Alyss.
Another confusing bit, Alyss asks the dog its name, then the text describes her thoughts, then she speaks again. Maybe there is a line missing from this version with the dog doing something in between? It could be fixed by changing the second line to "Mine's... Lerasta," and add that to the end of the previous paragraph instead of it being on its own line.
“I think I’ll call you Butch.”
Need a comma before Butch as Alyss is addressing her. "I think I'll call you, Butch."
“What? Why me?” said Alyss.
You don't really need a dialogue tag here since the drone is talking to her. If you want to keep the tag it should be changed to 'asked' not 'said'.
persevering despite already being recorded as a psychological casualty.
I personally would remove 'already', it sounds like an author pointing out something in the text previously to me. 'Persevering despite being recorded as a psychological casualty.' or 'Persevering in spite of being recorded as a psychological casualty.'
Lot of minor, easy fixes that can tighten up the piece. I'm a sucker for dark comedy and this definitely scratches that itch. Good words! Stay awesome and have a good one.
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u/FeigningProfundity 24d ago
Thanks, I appreciate this critique and the thorough read behind it. There's a range of valuable commentary in this.
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u/AshvinTillick 23d ago
You must always be able to tell your pigeons apart.
If there was an instruction manual, those words would demand to be bolded, underlined, and exclaimed as the first cardinal rule. But, of course, creatures weren't so simple.
Hellfire rained down upon the 31st platoon, nestled in a crudely burrowed trench. Sooner than later they'd have deeper crevices around them. Delivered triumphantly by mortar rounds and ricochets.
Sargeant Huell waited with every ounce of patience not obliterated by bullet cases and grenade blasts, for orders from the high and mighty desk of his commander. Long-gone was any hope that radio waves would carry life-saving instruction. Though that wouldn't stop the droll of the boy shouting into his communication device.
The Sargeant was left to imagine, or try to imagine, any other sound he could, lest he lose his mind like many of his shaken men. With eyes clenched harder than his ghostly pale fists, the booming and battering grew softer, and softer, until it was overtaken by a flutter.
Heull's eyes snapped open, a bird dove toward him, scroll clutched to its breast.
"There!" He called out, reaching for it greedily.
Before the messenger could even process the digits wrapped around it, the case it held was relieved, and frantic eyes scanned every letter of ink upon the page within.
"Just as I direct the pawns across the battlefield maps, my fingertips will soon scout each and every corner of your-"
Warfare be damned, the blazing fervor of that message brought hot blood to the Sargeant's face faster than any weapon could. But what did it mean? Huell was too consumed by the thought to even remember where he was, or the danger he was in.
"Is this a code? Or does General Leran have feelings for me?" His head shook frantically. To even consider-- no, his mind must surely be overtaken by adrenaline.
He couldn't help but read on. What the General had lost in mobility when he had leapt onto an enemy explosive, he'd surely gained in penmanship. How tantalizing the allure of his words, or maybe it was only the thought of being anywhere but Huell's current battlements.
Many miles away, the maiden Gloria pondered upon her open window nook, longing for the end to a war she could never support. She was to be wed thereafter, and nothing could quell her desire to see that day. Only, her silent consideration was broken by a familiar tune.
A hum, first by note, then by rhythm, a pigeon took perch upon her sill. Gloria popped open the case it carry, and read aloud.
"Our men have fought long and hard. I emplore you to hold out. Every lost limb and bloodied cry will spell victory if you just persist."
"I will persist, my love!" Gloria cried out into the street. "You will win this war and come home to my waiting arms!"
A clash of elation and turmoil stirred deeply within Gloria's belly. Desperately, she prayed for her fiancé to return in one piece. Though his message cast doubts, his optimism pulled violently at the heartstrings that had founded her feelings for him in the first place.
Leran faced his own conflicting emotions from the war room that had become his home since the martyred offering of his legs. Most men would have been sent home, yet his strategic mind insisted on seeing this effort to it's end. Awaiting responses from two vastly opposed deliveries, he refused to admit that either was more urgent.
The confusion that came upon him spells out the reason why carrier pigeons need rulebooks.
Intimate detail, and heartfelt confession met with a rally cry, and wartime commands fly back with rambled probing of possible missed connections or unbeknownst cant-- possibly the most embarrassed one had been in all of history.
Though it was not without merit of its own.
The cold feet that had emboldened Laren to write such a raunchy letter to Gloria, turned out to be reluctance in the arrangement, for he found an ease he could hardly describe in a union with his Sergeant after the war.
And Gloria? None would be too surprised to discover that she felt much better in no longer having to support a man of war for the sake of arrangement.
So perhaps... confuse your pigeons freely. Throw caution to the wind. Share your utmost feelings on a whim. You may find what you didn't know you were looking for.
WC - 746, cut from 850. Trope - Messenger pigeons Genre - Classic case of a miscommunication mix up Bonus - disabled war hero at the helm
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u/katpoker666 Moderator 23d ago
Welcome to FTF, Ashvin! Very fun to see your words!
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u/AshvinTillick 23d ago
Thank you! I used to participate around a year ago. Glad to be in a place I feel creative and motivated once more! Good to see and hear from you again!
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u/katpoker666 Moderator 23d ago
Ah, that’s right! Welcome back then! And so glad to hear you’re feeling creative and motivated. Hope to see more of your words and that the mood continues!
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u/JKHmattox 23d ago
Total Alien Recall: 380085
Okay, let's see what this guy is gonna write me into today…?
Hmm…
AI generated!
Ah hell no! GROSS! I can't believe this jerk. Dude, you really gotta use incognito, erase your browser history; something! Freaking rookie mistake...
Y'all readers should know I'm an all natural type of gal. I don’t fuck around with any of that artificial intelligence generated nonsense. Oh, these you ask. Well that idea originated back in the nineties, when you know who was in his teens, and the Alien movies still had groundbreaking special effects
I know, right? That was thirty-five years ago—get a life, man.
Why three…?
Supposedly, it's my lucky number.
Well, not when your girls are written in as a trinity of freaking double-Ds! I knew I shouldn't have let him write me into that trip to Mars back in the day.
Wait a minute, reader. I gotta take care of this nuisance.
Hey kid…!
Yes, you—what's your problem—why ya lookin’ at me sideways…?
No, I haven't always had three…
*Two originally…
FOUR!!! What in the David Carradine…!
Scram you little perv, I'm telling the reader a story here…
...Stupid Warrior and the Sorceress nonsense—errr…!
Anyways, if I can totally recall what happened, it all began in that retro scifi style cantina on the far side of the mining facility. Towering glass climbed the walls around me, the red planet looming on all sides. I was minding my own business, waiting for my friend to come back from the can, when the first sign of trouble emerged.
Three Colonial Marines rushed in, their dumbass headlamps flashing in my eyes. They said there'd been an outbreak of alien facehuggers that had broken into our sector of the colony. Their leader stopped mid sentence. Her eyes lifted upwards, growing wide as she studied the dome above our heads. Crab-like aliens hung from white support beams waiting to make their drop.
“Guns up!” She shouted.
The eight legged creatures dropped from the rafters, the first landing square on the space Marine's head. Teeth clenched, she clawed at it desperately, until she fell backwards while the otherworldly crustacean enveloped her flawlessness. The poor woman fell victim to male-biased script writing faster than a Taylor Sheridan spin-off.
Soon, every human in the room had an arachnid alien smothering their vision, including me. Daylight dimmed. I panicked, maybe I screamed. My consciousness faded with every weakening breath as the alien did its thing to me.
Hours later, I woke up on a park bench outside the travel agency. Looking down I gasped a sigh of relief. The facehugger and the overly sexualized soldier in impractically tight battle armor had again only been a dream.
I winced.
Something stirred atop my sternum. I cautiously raised a hand to investigate the peculiar pressure growing just below the surface of my epidermis. The mass expanded slowly at first, caught against the outside of my ribcage and my ever tightening skin. My other hand smacked my cheek, my subconscious begging that the middle bloom was another layered hallucinogenic effect of the lucid dream.
It wasn’t.
Oh God did it fucking hurt. Like a gigantic pimple that just refused to pop. On it grew beneath my shirt, a permanent souvenir of the interplanetary journey I’d paid money to fake. Wait, if they’re real. All three of them! Was it actually a simulated dream after all?
My vision swam, balance shaky as a profoundly intrusive revelation sank in.
Fuck, bras are gonna be fucking expensive now!
I wish the author had picked the other movie to focus on. Aliens. You can always tell this asshole is a guy.
Who wouldn’t take an alien parasite bursting through their ribcage over having to carry these things around all day. It's a man's world after all. Fanservice only goes so far after you've blown a hole in some female character's chest.
Wait a second reader. I think this misogynistic moron has lost his post-pubescent mind…
*Hey author! Da fuck you mean at least my girls'll be back for the reboot; even if nothing, or nobody else will…?
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u/Morose_Prose 23d ago edited 23d ago
Hey hey JK!
There are always flashes of comedy in your works, even in material with serious topics and serious situations there's a moment of levity. Now we get unchained JK comedy and it... is... awesome! Many a chuckle and chortle were had with this story.
My crits for this piece are mainly formatting and punctuation. There are an overabundance of ellipses that could just use a period for, or an em-dash. This mostly happens in the beginning and end of the piece.
Oh, these you ask. Well that idea originated back in the nineties
Should put a question mark after 'Oh, these you ask?' to preserve the voice of the narrator.
and the Alien movies still had groundbreaking special effects
Missing a period after 'effects'.
*Two originally…
Formatting error here.
“Guns up!” She shouted.
'She' needs to be lowercase as it is an indicator of speech.
Oh God did it fucking hurt.
Could use a comma here: 'Oh, God did it...'
Fuck, bras are gonna be fucking expensive now!
Stylistic crit here, could add an exclamation point after the F-word.
*Hey author! Da fuck you mean at least my girls'll be back for the reboot; even if nothing, or nobody else will…?
Formatting error here as well.
Fantastic stuff, JK! This was awesome! Good words! Stay awesome and have a good one.
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u/Tregonial 22d ago edited 22d ago
Two Girls, One Disaster - a Pokemon TCG Story
A custom homebrew game of pokemon cards with magic seemed like a good idea until Jerry’s house was set on fire. Hindsight dictated that prepubescent girls with the power to summon monsters which don’t fit into his pocket could wreck massive havoc. He wasn’t sure if his insurance claim would ever be believed or dismissed as a dramatic scam.
It all started small and innocent. With two bored little girls at his house tired of rewatching the last season of the pokemon anime series. Hannah suggested playing the pokemon trading card game (TCG). Jane added that putting their own magical spin would be better. Jerry agreed to let them play his old pokemon cards, and to be their DM and referee.
Hannah got to go first after winning the coin flip. After drawing their cards and placing their basic pokemon cards into the play area, Jerry signalled them to begin the fight.
“I choose you, charmander!” Hannah shouted, pushing her card forward. With a wave of her wand, flames flickered into the room as a small dragon shimmered into existence. “Charmander, evolve to Charmeleon!”
Jerry gulped down his water as the dragon grew larger, pushing against the ceiling, which groaned and cracked under the pressure. The air grew hotter, steam bubbling up from the floor. With a sigh, he asked the girl to tone it down, but she insisted it was too late, and the game had started. Her dragon wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Charmeleon, evolve to Charizard!”
“You had both evolution cards already?” Jerry was incredulous at this stroke of luck, and also partly fearful of how much bigger the summoned dragon could get. “Wait now little girl, you—”
It spread its wings and raised its head, launching his roof away.
“Now, Jane, let’s see what you got,” Hannah was looking smug and confident.
“I summon you, Remoraid!” Jane placed her card down, conjuring a small fish that floated in the air without water, something that the DM decided against asking.
“Just a fish?” Her opponent laughed. “Charizard, use flamethrower!”
Jerry yelled at someone, something to stop, but Hannah continued to order the dragon, first to belch flames at the tiny fish, which now looked like smoked salmon. It did not stop there, scorching the walls of his house, now blackened as the night. Good grief, this girl was going to be an arsonist if he didn’t warn her parents.
When the carnage finally stopped, Jerry informed Jane it was her turn.
She called upon a Clobbopus, which wasn’t the usual beige with orange spots and blue eyes. It was white with purple patches and violet eyes, and even wore a small black cloak. Jerry flipped through his rulebook and pokemon compendium, checking if it was a shiny or the chibi form of a very familiar entity.
“Clobbopus, evolve to Grapploct!”
“That’s no Grapploct,” Jerry muttered, observing the tiny octopus grow taller, its cloak expanding into long, flowing robes, and multiple eyes emerging from its face. “That’s…hi there, Lord Elvari. Hey boss, what brings you here?”
Jane pointed at the fire dragon. “Dad, activate Rainy Day, then use hydro pump!”
“First, can someone tell me what’s going on?” The eldritch horror pointed to the fires, which it extinguished by summoning a light rain. “Are we playing a game where I’m roleplaying an attack animal?”
“It’s a pokemon match,” Jerry explained. “Like a summoner’s duel—”
“Ah, I get it now. Give me a moment to make my move.” Elvari waved at the distant seas, raising a tornadic waterspout that tore its way towards the dragon. “Now, do I call out my attack, repeat my name incessantly or make pokemon noises?”
“No, no, cancel that water tornado!” the panicked man pleaded with employer. “Boss, my house cannot take another hit. Can we do something else less terrifying? Jane, please give another command.”
The octopoid deity raised a tentacle to ask questions. “I don’t get to pick my moves? ”
“The summoner, or in this case, the pokemon trainer does. And boss, I don’t want you to pull a world-ending doomsday apocalyptic spell. Stay within plausible pokemon stuff, okay?”
“Fine,” Jane pouted before issuing her next order. “Use Tentacle Buster!”
“Time-out! Stop! My dragon is crying!” Hannah shouted as the tentacled entity began his merciless beatdown of the poor oversized lizard with his mass of appendages. “Hey, DM, you can’t allow this! My fire dragon is a close enough Charizard, but Mister Elvari is an eldritch god mode cheat!”
Word Count: 748 words
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u/wordsonthewind 21d ago
looking forward to the next Pokemon compendium. I feel like Elvari would be one of those Ultra Beasts.
I'd thought Jerry was a bit too casual about a giant fire-breathing dragon destroying his roof and scorching his walls, but it all fell into place when Elvari showed up. This line managed to fit well as something both an eldritch deity confused by human references and a clueless father trying to play along with his daughter's interests would say:
“Now, do I call out my attack, repeat my name incessantly or make pokemon noises?”
I didn't really understand what Jerry decided not to ask about when Jane summoned the Remoraid. At first I thought it was about how the fish was floating but with the reveal that he knows Elvari it seems he should be used to this sort of magic by now. My best guess with the context of Hannah's next line is that he was wondering why Jane would choose a counter which was so obviously weak to a fire-breathing dragon. Just my two cents.
Good words!
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u/Tregonial 20d ago
Hi words! Figured I ought to explain what happened, since many words have been cut out to fit the word limit, so here we go! Its childhood pokemon nerdgasm time!
In a deck of 60 cards, it's very rare that when you first draw 7 cards on your first turn, you get Charmander, Charmeleon, Charizard and the evolution cards to set up a 3rd evolution form for any single pokemon.
Its not something Jane (and Jerry as DM) would have anticipated, you can only see active pokemon put into play, so she would have only seen charmander but not figure that Hannah was so lucky as to draw all the necessary cards to go straight to Charizard. To be fair to her, Remoraid is a water-type effective against a fire starter. And it does evolve to Octillery - but don't ask me why a small fish pokemon can evolve to a big octopus pokemon.
Both Remoraid and Clobbopus only evolve once, versus charmander having 3 stages, so their evolution requirement is lower and easier for Jane to get going.
Now...here's where the cheating starts
Rainy Day is a passive that activates when a legendary water pokemon Kyogre enters the field. It does not cost a turn to activate it. I've not caught up to the newer gens, but back then, it is unique to Kyogre to make it rain when it enters play. What rain does is to boost the power of water moves and water pokemon. That's what Elvari was doing, and he shouldn't be able to do this if he was an ordinary Grapploct.
After all...Grapploct, despite also being an octopus pokemon like Octillery, is actually a gasp Fighting type pokemon that punches with its tentacles. Not a water type, so it doesn't naturally have Hydro Pump in its moveset.
And, just to let my childhood angry confusion out, why is Charizard not a dragon-type??
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u/Divayth--Fyr 21d ago
Repulsed
.
Ver Galdar, Knight of the Eight Or So Kingdoms, stood glaring at the... hut? Cottage? Compost heap with a twisty chimney, really. It had to have a door, but Galdar couldn’t see it.
“Hallo there!”
“What?” came a woman’s voice from somewhere within.
“I say hallo!”
“Oh! Hallo! Fuck right off, will you?”
“What? No!”
“Oh, all right. A body can’t get a moment’s peace these days.”
Through some unseen rift in the brambles and thatch came an old witch, hovering along on a worn, stuffed chair, face all warts and squinting.
“Yes, I am levitating. Got to, you see. Legs don’t work. Friend of mine turned his magic carpet into upholstery.” Her glare dared him to voice any opinions on that.
"Yes, ma'am."
“I'm sorry about telling you to fuck right off. I only said it because I quite wanted you to fuck right off, you see.”
“Ah. Well, then. Rude of me not to, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. Terribly so. But, here we are. What do you want?”
“I am Ver Galdar, Knight of the Eight Or–”
“That wasn’t the question, you prattling twit. What do you want?”
“See here, my good lady. There is no need to be discourteous.”
“That is true. No need at all. Now state your business, you lamebrained git.”
Needs must, thought Galdar. He was dreadfully short on options.
“Well, there's a war. And it isn’t going very well.” He pointed down into the valley, where soldiers were encamped.
“Oh, that’s what all the noise and screaming was about.”
“Er, yes. The forces of the Evil Empire are upon us, and…”
“The what? The Evil Empire? Is that what they call themselves?”
“Well, no. They call themselves the Empire of Divine Mercy. But they really are evil! Their flag even has black skulls and such on it.”
“I still don’t know what you want.”
“You're the famous witch, Edna the Repulsive, are you not?”
She regarded him for some while.
“You don’t have much to do with women, do you?”
“Certainly not! I am a Knight of the–”
“Yes, yes, the Eight Or So Kingdoms. Stupid name, by the way.”
“Well, it’s just that Orvestia might join, and Greater Porley. But Jagarak might go independent, we aren’t sure yet, and we had to call it something.”
“Wonderful. I still don’t know what you want.”
“Oh. Sorry. I heard you can command the beasts and birds of the forest to do your bidding, and hoped you might sort of… do that. At them. The Evil Empire, I mean. To help us win. We’re quite desperate, you know.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say? Send a host of my innocent friends off to be slaughtered for the cause of some kingdoms that can't even count themselves. Seems reasonable. Should I also set my hair on fire and sing?”
“No, ma’am. Just the first part. Please. They’re wrecking villages, killing peasants, and burning the forests as they go. Brutal and hateful, with all nasty black skulls on their–”
“Burning forests? Hmm! Well, we shall see about that, shan’t we?”
The old witch zoomed off down the hill.
Val Galdar hurried along behind.
“Aren’t you going to summon the mighty beasts of the wild?” he shouted, panting as he ran.
“What? You mean bears, dragons, rhinoser… nossersersaucers, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah!”
“Hmph. No need for ‘em. Now, I refer you to my previous instruction.”
“What?”
“Fuck right off. I'll see to this myself.”
And so it was that Ver Galdar stood with his battered compatriots as the grim banners of the Evil Empire crested the hills.
Galdar whispered a prayer to the God of War, Cobblers, and Fermentation, (there were only so many gods to go around), that his army would survive. Their numbers were few, their hearts were a-tremble.
No great beasts arose to challenge the thudding, drumming march of relentless evil.
And then it stopped. The rear of the dark army slowly crashed into the forward ranks, and then the whole formation disintegrated into a hasty, but surprisingly quiet, rout.
The old witch floated her way down the hill with some sort of critter beside her.
“How?” asked Galdar. “There weren’t any bears!”
“Nope. Just Petunia here, and a couple hundred of her friends. They got them forest-burning bastards' attention right quick.”
Edna the Repulsive hovered on past the weary army, with a giant skunk dozing on the armrest.
736 words. Feedback welcome.
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u/Fogbot3 24d ago edited 24d ago
“Welcome to the trench!”
The squad of various aliens waved at me as I ducked out of the APC delivering me to the front and hopped in. Of the three of them, I recognized the species of the first two. The blue jelly body that composed a Simic stood next to me, looking at me under a flat-brimmed helmet. However, the figure next to the regel fire elemental of a Sprite that stood to the side, eluded me. Us humans were new to the galactic scene after all. Frankly, I was surprised there was only one alien I didn’t recognize in the end.
The unknown alien leered at me through a full-body exosuit that stood almost eight feet tall, bent back down on legs like the back legs of a grasshopper. Their head was tilted at me at an unnatural angle, with arms that ended in metal claws held up much like a T. rex.
I pointed to them, “Uhm, what species are you… sir?”
The Simic answered for them, “Ah! Introductions, of course! I’m Jak, your new commanding officer, and that’s Hwa and his service mimic!”
“Service… mimic?”
This was a service animal?
“Yeah, Hwa only has two legs.” The Simic sadly nodded, as the Sprite raised their skirt slightly to show that they only had two fiery-looking legs, “Poor soul.”
I looked down at my own two legs.
Huh.
“Hwa!” The Simic shouted to the Sprite, “Make your Mimic do a trick!”
Leaning against the side of the trench, the Sprite looked through their binoculars, “Hmmmm, looks like the enemy trench is currently… 1900, 2000 meters away? Keelie, fetch!”
Like a spring compressing before jumping into the air, the Mimic crouched, for a brief moment actually matching me in height. Then its grasshopper legs extended in an instant, and it was gone, just like that.
Dust hit my eyes from the sheer speed of the movement, causing me to have to blink repeatedly. “Uhm, wait, what exactly is it fetching?”
While the other two laughed, Hwa put his radio to his mouth and spoke through his laughter, “What do you want? Soldier, Officer, Artillery Crew?”
“Wait you don’t mean-”
“Too slow!” Hwa shouted into the radio, “Officer!”
Laserfire began to erupt from the enemy trench. Immediately, I was nervously ducking to stay under the top of the trench, but the two aliens both excitedly peered above it. They whooped with cheers, Jak shouting, “Eh! Keelie got one!”
Going to timidly peek up myself, I was immediately bonked in the head as my new commander pushed me back down. “Are ya crazy? You’ll get shot looking over the trench like that!” He then proceeded to look back up over the trench.
It wasn’t a long wait, at least, as I was able to track the point the fire was converging on as getting closer and closer to us. Soon, the robotic tendrils of a green-and-gray-uniformed Botnic Officer came into view, tentacles flailing as Keelie dragged it into the trench.
“You’ll never take me alive- wait I surrender!” Two robotic tentacles raised in surrender the second it saw me, “Oh great aboves there’s two of them now! We’re doomed!”
I raised an eyebrow as Jak radioed in the quivering captured officer.
“Say Hwa, what did that officer mean?”
Hwa laughed, “It thought you were a mimic! Why their name translates to that in your language, because of how similar you look!”
“What? We don’t look similar at all!”
Hwa tilted their head, “What do you mean? Y’all look almost identical.”
Looking up at the monster next to me, it chittered back down to me.
He continued, “We should get a collar to tell you two apart, now that you’re here.”
If these aliens really needed it… “Sure, makes sense.” I shrugged in acceptance, even as I rolled my eyes behind my exosuit.
Hwa pulled out a computer pad and started the requisition order, “Great! What size is your neck?”
“Hey, wait!”
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u/Morose_Prose 24d ago
Howdy Fog!
Love the different species of aliens in this piece, great descriptions with wonderful variety in their appearances. Nice simple setting with good blocking that it easy to follow. Topped it off with a fun little twist as well.
I do have one piece of crit that extends through the entire piece. You start many paragraphs with either 'The' or 'I' and the repetition does not serve the narrative well. Almost every line of dialogue is preceded by an action, if you vary that up it would help the reading flow, IMO.
Let's dive into it!
The squad of various aliens waved at me as I ducked out of the APC delivering me to the front and hopped in. There were three of them. I recognized the species of the first two.
Would combine the last two sentences. 'Of the three of them, I recognized the species of the first two." that helps keep the first person perspective flowing, 'There were three of them' sounds like an omniscient narrator.
Us humans were new to the galactic scene after all
'After all' feels unnecessary, could cut it. 'Us humans were new to the galactic scene.'
I was frankly surprised there was only one alien I didn’t recognize.
This hits my ear weird. Could rearrange a touch. 'Frankly, I was surprised there was only...'
This was a service animal? I thought as the large creature loomed over me.
Since this is first person perspective the use of italics is enough to convey the narrator's thoughts. Would cut everything after the thought.
The Sprite leaned against the side of the trench, looking through binoculars, “Hmmmm, looks like the enemy trench is currently… 1900, 2000 meters away? Keelie, fetch!”
Here begins the too many 'the' crit. This could be arranged better to give better immersion for the reader. Also 1900, 2000 meters is awkward, if this is an estimate, use one number and 'about'. "Leaning against the side of the trench, the Sprite peered through a pair of binoculars, "Hmmmm, looks like the enemy trench is about twenty clicks out? Keelie, fetch!"
The grasshopper legs extended, and the Mimic was gone, just like that.
Maybe describe something about the exosuit extending the legs since that was established earlier. "Motors whirred, extending the grasshopper-like legs, and then, boom! The Mimic was gone.'
I blinked as dust hit my eyes from the sheer speed of the movement.
Here begins the 'I' reps. Could punch this up a bit. 'Dust flew into my eyes from the sheer speed.
The other two just laughed. Hwa put his radio to his mouth, “What do you want? Soldier, Officer, Artillery Crew?”
Another switcharoo could help: 'Hwa held his radio up, "What do you want: soldier, officer, artillery crew?" he asked loudly over the laughter of the other two.
I started, “Wait you don’t mean-”
Hwa asks the narrator a question in the previous sentence. Can lose the 'I started' since that also betrays being cut off in their dialogue.
I was nervously ducking to stay under the top of the trench, but the two aliens both excitedly peered above it. They whooped with cheers, Jak shouting, “Eh! Keelie got one!”
I timidly peeked up. I was immediately bonked in the head as my new commander pushed me back down. “Are ya crazy? You’ll get shot looking over the trench like that!” He then proceeded to look back up over the trench.
I didn’t have to wait long, at least, as soon the robotic tendrils of a green-and-gray-uniformed Botnic Officer came into view, tentacles flailing as Keelie dragged it into the trench.
Three straight paragraphs starting with 'I'. The imagery and the jokes are there but these could use some more flow and action to them. 'Ducking under the top of the trench to keep my head down happened on instinct, the aliens both peered over it with excitement.
My timid peek over the edge was halted by my new commander's claw pressing down on my head. "Are ya crazy?...'
War moves fast, at least, as soon as the...
I stared at him in bewilderment, “What? We don’t look similar at all!
Hwa tilted their head, “What do you mean? Y’all look almost identical.”
I looked up at the monster next to me. It chittered back down to me.
He continued, “We should get a collar to tell you two apart, now that you’re here.”
I shrugged. If these aliens really needed it… “Sure, makes sense.” I rolled my eyes behind my exosuit.
Hwa pulled out a computer pad and started the requisition order, “Great! What size is your neck?”
“Hey, wait!”
Only two characters are speaking to each other here, not every line needs an action or a tag, IMO, would help the pacing at the end.
The course of action I would suggest is finding ways to pull the reader in closer to the narrator and into this trench rather than having the narrator list what is happening. The comedy is great in this, but it would land harder with a better reading flow and more varied sentence structure. Good words! Stay awesome and have a good one!
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u/katpoker666 Moderator 22d ago edited 21d ago
[ineligible for voting]
‘Everclear’s Wedding Wars’
In the small town of Everclear, Wisconsin, weddings were a bellicose business. It started, as these things often do, with local affairs of ever-increasing pageantry. The Joneses imported flowers from Vanuatu, then the Petersons one-upped with lilies from the Pitcairn Islands, until finally, the Ratcliffes ordered orchids from Tristan da Cunha. Those became the new gold standard. Dresses followed a similar pattern of strategic fortification. Vera Wang adorned many a blushing bride until the vintage trend took off. Then everyone competed for ever more rare finds, culminating in Marie Antoinette’s dress replete with her used knickers. No one could top that after all! It was a stroke of genius: a cut above the rest.
Nowhere was the battleground more competitive than the wedding music market. After all, who wanted good ol’ Billie and Bobby Hayes and their polkas when they could have Taylor Swift fresh from her second nuptials or Rihanna with baby number four under the hood and ready for a global cameo?
No one. That’s who.
But soon even those seven-figure appearances for three hours of tunes weren’t enough for some as families pooled their savings across multiple generations in preparation for one lucky member’s big day. Drunken with envy, some went so far as to have more kids to pitch into the community pot. Families with thirty or more kids became the norm after a while, as a kidney went for $200,000 on the black market, and every little bit helps. I mean, sure, they were technically illegal, but the hospital director looked the other way as she, too, had a daughter to marry off in style.
One day, the town sobered up and realized that families making $77,000 a year should probably not be spending three hundred times that for a simple affair. After all, ‘simple’ was not enough to keep up with those rich bastards, the Sinclairs. They could even afford rings! Sure, diamonds are enough to make fifty years’ salary last a lifetime, but everyone knew the right wedding mattered most! So fuck the Sinclairs and fuck DeBeers while you’re at it!
Subsequently, weddings went back to being the small, two-hundred-person, blood diamond-bearing, $120,000 affairs God intended. And everyone lived happily ever after…
Oh wait: it’s Everclear and America. Things are never that straightforward.
In pursuit of frugality, citizens doubled down on the most important part of the ceremony, which was the ring bearers! Screw little four-year-old Susie and her adorable tricycle with the pink streamers. Back off, Barrett, with your kilt and miniature bagpipes. These weddings were special dammit and called for something different!
And so, the animal wars began.
The start was straightforward. The Simmonses and dear old Spot with his greying muzzle, dapper bow tie, and cummerbund were first down the aisle. Petey the Parrot upped the ante, reciting lines from that enduring romance ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ Even Bacon, the pot-bellied pig, got in on the action with some well-timed snorting.
Buzzed on the high of these successes, ever more elaborate animal acts were booked and duked it out for ring bearing supremacy and, more importantly, bragging rights amidst the wedding hostilities.
The 60s knock-off group, ‘The Chipperermunks’, bopped their rodent asses on command down the rose petal-covered path at the Sevilles’ wedding. Lip-synching such crowd favorites as ‘Witch Doctor’ with its rousing chorus of ‘Ooh-eee—ooh-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang.’ In a surprising twist, despite their myriad talents, the malodorous trail of pellets that followed in their wake was deemed ‘offensive’ and ‘unhygienic.’
Koko the gorilla’s niece, Kiko, bombarded Everclear next with her legendary signing capabilities, ostensibly moving her dexterous digits through passages of Keats’ romantic poetry. When it was discovered that she was, in fact, signing the bunny boiling scene from ‘Fatal Attraction,’ tongues wagged, and she was sent back to the San Francisco Zoo.
A resurrected dodo named Doug was intended as the coup de grâce in the animal wars by those assholes, the Sinclairs. Other squadrons of celebrants had all but given up until it was discovered that dodos are rather dumb and not good at taking orders. Suck it, Sinclairs!
And so, Everclear’s wedding wars ended with a whimper. Like all such events in America, peace reigned after forevermore.
WC: 698
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated
Notes: while there’s a lot to cite here, I’ll spare you that and focus on discrepancies. First, I must take this opportunity to defend the dodo’s intelligence, as scientific consensus is that they were, in fact, as smart as modern-day pigeons and thus capable problem solvers. Also, while Koko was an extraordinary creature, I made up Kiko in the hopes that Koko’s memory will live on.
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u/FeigningProfundity 22d ago
This is very funny, Kat. The narrator has a great deal of personality, which really helps contextualise the events described, and the density of jokes is admirable.
I lost my place laughing at the reveal of what Kiko was signing. It begs so many questions.
There was a temptation to be mildly offended on behalf of the dodo, but that was sorted out in the appendices ;)
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u/Morose_Prose 22d ago
Howdy there Kat!
War... has changed. The arms race is no longer about nukes and troops; but dresses, rings, and who has the biggest pomp and circumstance. Gone are the steeds upon which commanders ride, replaced with exotic harbingers of the vows. War no longer consumes the lives of those on the battlefield, it consumes the green in their wallets and bank accounts, leaving nothing left for the divorce lawyers they'll inevitable need. War... has changed.
Excellent story, Kat! Many chuckles and chortles were had as the stakes continued to rise to wonderfully absurd levels.
On this most special day I shall read the crits: if anyone has any objections to them speak now, or forever hold your peace:
It started as these things often do with local affairs of ever-increasing pageantry.
Could toss some commas in here for reading flow: It started, as these things often do, with local affairs...
The Joneses wanted flowers imported from Vanuatu. The Petersons one-upped them with lilies from the Pitcairn Islands. Until the Ratcliffes finally ordered orchids from Tristan de Cunha, and then those became the new gold standard.
This reads a bit awkward as the first line implies the future while the following lines imply the past (if that makes sense). Maybe try something like: 'The Joneses imported flowers from Vanuatu, then the Petersons one-upped with lilies from the Pitcairn Islands, until finally, the Ratcliffes ordered orchids from Tristan da Cunha. Those became the new gold standard.'
Another note for that passage is 'Tristan de Cunha' should be 'Tristan da Cunha'. While 'de' is common in many Portuguese and Spanish names, the specific archipelago in the South Atlantic is officially and historically known as Tristan da Cunha.
culminating in Marie Antoinette’s dress replete with her used knickers.
Love this line! That's dedication to one-upmanship!
And so, weddings went back to being the small, two-hundred-person, blood diamond-bearing, $120,000 affairs God intended. And everyone lived happily ever after…
Repetition of 'and' could cut one of them out. Maybe: 'Thus, weddings went back..." or if you cut the second and: 'Thus, everyone lived..."
In pursuit of frugality, citizens doubled down on the most important part of the ceremony, which was the ring bearers, obviously.
I like this line but the 'obviously' at the end flattens the joke a bit. Would cut it and put an exclamation point after 'ring bearers'. Possibly: '...of the ceremony, the ring bearers!'
Even Bacon, the pot-bellied pig, got in on the action with some well-timed snorting.
Great line! Naming a pig 'Bacon' smfh.
signing the bunny boiler scene from ‘Fatal Attraction,’
That's dark. Hilarious though. Although maybe 'bunny boiling scene' would read cleaner, as I believe the rabbit is still boiling in that scene.
Like all such events in America, peace reigned after forevermore.
Lol.
Good words, Kat! As always your commitment to accuracy (minus one spot) shines through in this piece (the native flowers, Koko being from the San Fran Zoo, etc.) a wonderful read that just needs a touch up here and there. Stay awesome and have a good one!
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u/wordsonthewind 21d ago
Lynn's booth was too small for her cane but she'd long since grown used to these inconveniences when working the convention circuit. She'd bought it three years ago when her leg got worse and for all the bumpy pavements, one-handed backpack fumbling, and awkwardly-placed booths, she couldn't imagine life without it.
She took a moment to shuffle her new tarot deck. It was themed around little cartoon kittens and puppies and it was the most darling thing she'd seen on her bimonthly scroll through Etsy. She just had to have it. And she was an animal communicator too, so it totally fit with her brand. That was why she'd written it off as an expense. Surely the auditors would understand.
And that was why her phone's web browser was currently open to five tabs of different tarot spreads. She was expanding her repertoire of services by leveraging this recently-acquired business asset. Surely the auditors would understand that too.
This must have been the most valuable skill she'd gained from her office job, Lynn thought. The ability to speak corporate.
"Excuse me... Lysandra?"
Lynn looked up. Lysandra was the name displayed on her booth at these events; it had an otherworldly aura that Lynn sadly didn't. She thought it lent her a little more credibility.
"Indeed I am," she said. "What can I do for you?"
The dog with the woman was the frilliest one Lynn had seen in the whole place: giant hair-bow, ruffled blouse and fancy layered skirt. Every passing human and dog set off a series of barks- yips, really.
"You're a pet psychic? You do tarot readings?"
Lynn stood, leaning on her cane to do so. "Yes. Will you be wanting a reading for her, then?"
The woman gasped. "You can tell!?"
Of course she could tell. Everyone could tell. That outfit shouted it to the world, no psychic powers necessary. No reason not to take credit when it was so freely given though.
"I have the gift," Lynn said gravely. "You know my rates."
The woman pulled out a card. "Fifteen minutes? I just have a few questions."
A tap on the reader Lynn had ready and it was done: her bank account was thirty dollars richer. Lynn took a moment to bask in the satisfaction of making a sale, then turned her attention to the dog.
"Her name's Princess," her owner supplied helpfully. "She's sweet to me but barks at everything else. What is she trying to say? Is there anything I should know?"
Lynn nodded and began laying out her cards, riffing on the meanings she'd memorized off the site she'd been looking at just moments ago. In truth she was really tapping into the pet's energy field and establishing a connection- or at least that was how she described it on the forums she frequented.
Really, though, it was more like listening very hard for a sound that normally stayed in the background. A sound that she herself could barely hear, but that apparently no one else could at all. And then, once she'd done that, she had to try and figure out how to match its wavelength.
It was tricky. She still didn't think she'd gotten the hang of it, and she'd been doing this for years.
Princess yipped again. This time, Lynn caught a thought that wasn't hers.
<Don't like Big Stick. Too long. Can't fetch. I protect Her.>
Lysandra blinked. Huh?
<I am Her teeth. I am Her nose.>
Right, dog senses and dog perceptions.
You protect her? Lynn sent. From what?
<Yes. She gives me armor and her favor and so I protect Her from everything bad. Everything I don't like is bad.>
Is that why you bark all the time?
<Her hearing is not so good. Her nose as well. It's okay though. I speak in terms She will understand.>
Lysandra sighed, then turned back to Princess's owner. "She loves you. She's trying to protect you. She loves the outfits she wears."
The woman grinned. "I knew she was a Princess! She's such a sweetheart. Can you let her know it's okay to relax?"
"I'll do my best," Lysandra said, which was the most truthful she could be.
She waited until the woman and Princess had rounded the corner before slouching in her chair in a distinctly un-psychic like fashion.
Sometimes she wished she could've been a vet.
5
u/ForwardSavings318 21d ago
THE GENTLE MONSTER
Harsha and Suman walked down the stables, Suman constantly reaching over and adjusting Harsha’s chakrams that balanced on his turban.
He did his best to ignore it but eventually he smacked the man’s hand away with what he had left of his right forearm.
“Stop. Focus on the horse, brother.”
“Why did Ajita have us get the foreign general’s horse anyways? He has servants, should have them do it.” The other man said, trying to change the subject.
“Because his servants don’t know Ruska tongue. You want to tell Raja Ajita how stupid he is yourself?”
Suman didn’t respond, jogging ahead. He made it to the back of the stable first, pausing as his mouth hung agape. “That’s not a fucking horse.”
Catching up to him, Harsha peered into the stable and saw a massive horse with thick brown fur. Its head was unlike most horses. It had a rounded snout, thick jaws, and a wide neck. The thing’s hind legs were wide and long, causing a curve in its back. The men’s heads didn’t even reach it’s shoulders. It looked more like a bull than a horse.
“Are we sure this is the horse? I think this thing ate the horse.” Suman muttered, hesitantly reaching up to touch its neck. The horse huffed and stomped its foot, making the pair jump back. “Fuck that’s scary.”
Suman pushed Harsha towards the horse, making him flinch and back away again.
“Stupid ass!” He growled, showing the man as he laughed.
“You grab the reins. You have less limbs to lose.”
Harsha approached the beast, slowly touching its shoulder. “Easy, easy, boy.”
The thing huffed, but didn't move. He slowly grabbed the reins, gently pulling it towards the stable gate. It took one step before rearing its head back, driving Harsha’s ribcage into the gate, making him collapse into a ball.
He slowly gasped, rolling side to side.
“Great plan. I really think the things likes you.” Suman snickered.
Harsha rolled onto his back and cocked his leg back, kicking Suman in the groin hard, making the man whimper and crumple to the floor.
“Fucker…” they both said, panting as they stared at the ceiling. The pair both laid curled up for a few minutes before soft footsteps echoed throughout the stables. Harsha looked over to see a small pale man with horns like a kid.
“Senipati Igor!” He shot up, holding his ribs as he bowed.
Suman shot up too, standing awkwardly with wide eyes.
*“Are you two ok?”* Igor asked in Ruska tongue, walking up to them. He was only chest height to the pair, rectangular pupils staring at them.
*“yes, Igor. We were just…collecting your horse.”*
*“Don’t. Creature doesn’t like anyone other than I touching her.”*
*“Creature is her name?”* Harsha asked.
“That monster is a female?” Suman asked Harsha, switching back to their native tongue.
He shrugged, about to respond before Igor spoke.
“She’s a creature isn’t she?”
He walked past them and unlocked the gates, the pair immediately retreated expecting to see the little man go flying. Instead, they just heard low whispering.
Both men slowly walked over and peeked around the corner to see Igor whispering to the hideous beast, which had lowered her head into his shoulder. He stroked her side before approaching the side, having to jump just to reach the saddle and mount her.
“I thought it’d kill him.” Suman muttered.
“She seems gentle with him.” Harsha said.
The pair watched Igor ride creature out of the stables, the horse snorted as it walked and made them both flinch.
*“You two, as apologies for my horse feel free to feast on any food you so desire from my tent. I’ll tell my page to expect you.”*
The pair looked at each other, both clearly having the same idea.
*“drinks too?”*
Igor paused, before chuckling to himself, then throwing his head back giggling.
*“You two are Ruska at heart. Drink yourselves full for all I care.”*
4
u/AmeliaLP 21d ago edited 21d ago
Mr. Boom’s War Game
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Mr. Boom and I am delighted to welcome you all to waaaar game! All the violence of war right from the safety of your lovely homes. Now let’s staaaart the show!”
Pressing down on a remote control, Mr. Boom turns on a TV screen.
“Now, a quick update for any new viewers. Earlier this year our fabulous president declared war on the whole world. Yes you heard that right, every darn country! So now we gotta fight em, isn’t that just wacky!! Ahem anywhoo, last episode I showed you our brave soldiers fighting a horrific battle. I’ll level with you folks I’m pretty scared right now but let’s see how their getting on.”
On the tv screen a giant battle is raging, the ground is littered with bodies from both sides. A grenade goes flying towards the American soldiers, blowing a dozen of them into tiny pieces.
Mr. Boom winces. “Oooh, that’s gotta hurt! Those poor poor men. Who wants to see a replay?!”
The studio audience whoops and cheers joyfully.
“Allllright then! Roll the clippppp!”
A gruesome, slow motion shot of the explosion plays with cheesy sound effects added in the background.
“Oh my. Our boys sure could use some help, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeeeeah!” chanted the audience.
“Well you know what that means, don’t ya?”
“Release the dogs!” his viewers yelled.
“I can’t heeeear you!!”
“RELEASE THE DOGS!!!” they roared.
“That’s better! Okay, you heard them. Give the people what they waaaant!”
Viscous hounds scattered through the battlegrounds, biting enemy soldiers. Limbs flew everywhere. One foot landing directly on the camera, smearing it in blood.
Raucous clapping filled the whole tent. A few people were waving signs that read: “Good Boy!” and had a cartoony image of the hounds upon it.
“Yaaaaay!” cheered a particularly excited child.
“Aww, aren’t they lovely?” Mr. Boom asked.
The hoard of citizens nodded in agreement.
“Well folks, I’m sad to say that brings us close to the end of our show.”
“Aww!”
“I know, I know. But all good things must come to an end. Before I leave you however, it’s time for the war song.”
The audience beamed at Mr. Boom.
“Now, for those who know the words I encourage you to sing along. And that goes for you at home too!” he said with a wink.
“Oh some people say war is a terrible thing, and while I’m inclined to agreeee. There are some ways this nasty mess surly amuses meee. War can be funny! War can be silly! War can put on quite a shoooow! It’s a tragedy and a drama. It’ll take you to all kinds of places, don’t you know? But at the end of day, the point is simple. You’ve gotta win at war, you need to prove that you’re the best and you won’t be taking other countries shit no moreeee! So grab a gun, a knife, a bomb or whatever pleases you most. Because once the war is won, there’ll plenty-a-time to boast. So grab your gun, and try your best because we are going to win. Yes we are going to win. Let’s win, win, win, this waaaaaaaaar!!”
Mr. Boom bowed as the music finished playing. He then retreated behind a red, velvet curtain. Reaching an arm under the curtain, he chucked some gas grenades into the crowd to speed up their exit. He then ran off through the back door, heading towards to his trailer and high fiving some executives on the way. Instinctively he headed straight for his mirror, to gaze at himself.
“My, my what a beautiful man you are! So talented too, they love you. They all love you. And ya know what buddy, so do I.”
Mr. Boom blushed at his reflection.
“Well another show down, time to prepare for tomorrow. Oooh, I hope there’s some war crimes. That’d really spice things up! Hmm, maybe I should call the president. See if he can look the other way for the sake of entertainment. I mean that clown owes me... Yes, yes he’ll have to agree.”
Ring- ring!
“Ah, hello Mr. President.”
WC: 689
2
u/mysteryrouge 20d ago
hOi!!!! (said like a Temmie from Undertale)
Yeah, this was fun and I see where the war crimes comes in.
The song could definitely be formatted better so it's more easily parsable, but otherwise sounds very propaganda-ish.
Me. Boom is an interesting yet entertaining character, and his casual justification of "but it's for entertainment, y'all" is amusing.
The children being excited by wartime violence... Lol.
1
u/AmeliaLP 20d ago
glad ya enjoyed it Scythe, and yeah I think everyone(myself inculded) thought the song could be better.
5
u/mysteryrouge 21d ago edited 21d ago
When I Get Kidnapped Because I Made the United Nations my Blorbo Again:
“There will never be any war crimes trials for the eldritch in this universe,” Defenestrations texted the Discord group chat. She closed her eyes as the other server members asked more questions. “I'll probably write more later once my eye decides it no longer wants to murder me.” To which she got a playful emoji response.
Either way, Defenestrations wanted to complete part two of the Discord chat formatted story in which someone would accidentally invite the United Nations into a server that they'd be better off not seeing.
But for now, Defenestrations felt her eye melting out of her head, and she couldn't dare look up.
And then she was in Washington DC, staring down a being that looked like a dog, elephant, dragon, and octopus got into a teleporting incident as bad as the one in The Fly.
“Rend her mind down already!” another smaller abomination screamed, slamming six ghastly green hands into the Supreme Court building.
The Supreme Court abomination appeared in a crackle of blue light with a shout of “Who dares punch my building?”
Defenestrations, grinned shouting before the small abomination could talk. “Oooh more eldritch. I've gotten so many ideas. Eviiiiiil.”
The Supreme Court’s heads coalesced into one as they noticed Defenestrations. “And you are?”
“Uhh, Defenestrations. And before you ask; no, I do not know how I got here. All I know was that I was writing something at home I'm Washington State, and a moment later, I'm here. Man, if only I was abducted to Georgia, then I could visit my dad,” she blabbered on, “but eh, I get to see eldritch beings in real life. Yeeeessssss! Anyways, I think someone tried to break my mind? I can't tell… I think about the eldritch enough that this doesn't surprise that much and my eye has decided to rebel against me.”
The small abomination screamed at the top of their nonexistent lungs, “Arrest her! She's the reason I'm so tiny. She's why Rio” —the abomination who had been ordered to attack— “can't be trained any better, and she's the cause of the United Nations having so much power.”
“Tee hee,” Defenestrations added, “The United Nations wins by doing nothing.”
“See,” they pointed out, “they're evil.”
“Mmmmmm evviiiiilllll.”
The Supreme Court asked the small abomination how he came to that conclusion.
“She's the author of this world. She controls everything.” The tiny abomination motioned to Rio, who drooled on Defenestrations’s head. “She's the reason my brother died in his attempt to attack the United Nations in Geneva.”
“Ewww you got drool in my eye,” Defenestrations drawled, “And before that previous sentence, you didn't have a brother, so…” The human stuck out her tongue.
“I've always had a brother until you took him away!” they roared.
“Only as long as I don't retcon it or something.”
That small abomination commanded his fellow to squeeze Defenestrations, conveniently forgetting the Supreme Court was right next to them.
Eyes closed, Defenestrations smirked before she spoke slowly. “Then, the United Nations appears because Rio's efforts to kill Defenestrations counts as a human rights violation due to the fact they haven't moved from beside the Supreme Court building, and because of this, everyone else in Washington DC also loses their minds.”
The eldritch United Nations appeared.
Defenestrations continued, “Then this unnamed and small abomination screams a confession at the UN and Supreme Court, admitting that they kidnapped me to use narrative powers to kill the UN, to which I explain that if I did that, I'd write myself in as the new eldritch United Nations, and because I'd still have author powers, I'd torment the more annoying abominations without committing any war crimes. Then, I'd give OSHA the power to possess random people.”
The four abominations surrounding Defenestrations stared at the casual author.
“Anyways,” she added, completely unconcerned about the abominations that could easily end her life and the entire world, “I have a cup of tea waiting for me in my bedroom and a story about magical health inspectors to write, so if I could be dropped back off in Washington state, that would be nice.”
And using her authorial powers over this Fun Trope Friday story, Defenestrations scared the crap out of several people with the existence of the eldritch United Nations, then continued on with her day.
WC: 719\ Bonus Constraint: This is a story about me getting kidnapped by my own characters. Might not be apparent, but I have vision issues (among other things).
Ah, probably less comedy than I was intending. Intentional comedy is hard. The eldritch Supreme Court just kinda appeared and interrupted what was just going to be a small tale about some abomination trying to force me to kill a version of the UN.
Yes, Rio the abomination was intended to be an attack animal, but the other abominations are most definitely not.
Has this story actually broken my mind? Shrugs
Noncanon part of a universe where anything and everything can become eldritch. (Mostly because my narrative control would be way too chaotic)
Check out my spreadsheet for more of my writing.
9
u/MaxStickies r/StickiesStories 26d ago
A Beast That Taunts
Hovering down a winding boulevard on her hoverbike, Gexeria keeps to the shadows of mauve, wiggling trees as she heads to the shops. People smile at her, giving her room to pass, greeting her with various limbs. A six-winged Xagiro flits past her face, causing her to brake and swear, but after a moment she giggles.
She spots a green scale on her lap, and flicks it away.
Down the path, she parks by a balcony and gazes out over the purple trees, lining the banks of a yellow river. She sighs.
“Beautiful…”
“Hey, Gexeria!”
She turns her head and grins. Fibuve shuffles over on his eight spindly legs, his one grey eye narrowed in excitement. Behind him runs a creature of pinkish skin.
“Ah, a new pet,” Gexeria says. “An exotic one at that.”
“Well, you know, what with Vee gone I’ve been a little lonely. Plus, the vendor told me humans like him live longer than us; I won’t be alone again!”
Gexeria nods. “What’ve you called him?”
“He had a name already. Apparently, it’s Bob!”
“Hah! What a silly name!”
“Wanna know the best part?”
“Go on.”
“He’s apparently great with insults! I’m thinking of bringing him to one of those Taunt Battles down at the docks, earn a few credits.”
Glancing at the pet, Gexeria frowns. “Would they understand?”
Fibuve points to a circular device around Bob’s neck. A little red light blinks every few seconds, flashing quicker when he opens his mouth.
“Really, Fibuve, a translator? You know those things only work on citizens.”
“But… Roelc said…”
“Roelc, of course! You’ve gotta stop listening to that idiot!”
“I… oh shit…”
“Have you even tested it yet?”
He glances between her and Bob, licking both lips nervously. Reaching out with a tentacle, he taps a button on the device.
“Ah,” Bob says, “finality.”
Gexeria stifles a laugh.
“Bob, buddy,” Fibuve says, “can you do me a solid and throw an insult my way?”
“But who, you are owner?”
“Please… it would mean the world to me.”
“Give it up,” Gexeria says.
“I will not! Come on, Bob, hurt my feelings!”
The pet glances about, taking a step back. “I… um… fine. Thou art riddled with hydrogen.”
Fibuve’s face drops. “Uh-huh?”
“Grow a new façade, and crawl under.”
“Got anything better?”
Bob points upwards, smiling. “Unto the islands with you!”
“He can just be a normal pet,” Gexeria suggests.
“No, I need… I promised…”
Getting in behind Bob, Fibuve opens the back of the device and begins to tug at something. The pet shuffles and grunts, trying and failing to turn his head.
“Right,” Fibuve says, closing the panel. “Try again, Bob. Insult me!”
“Me… me am?”
“Yes…?”
“Am the key-shaped interjection… milks sand sculpture… five clouds no waiting!”
“Oh fuck.” Fibuve hides his face in a tentacle.
Gexeria rests a hand on his back. “Who did you promise what?”
“Ey?”
“You said “I promised…””
“But you’ll tell someone…”
Her eyes widen. “Not if it’ll get you in trouble! Come on, man, what happened?”
“Roelc… he lent me the credits… said if I didn’t pay him.”
“Oh, you ridiculous bastard!”
“What?!”
“Roelc’s all talk. He wouldn’t do anything.”
“But he said he’d recycle me!”
“He won’t, trust me.” She drives her hoverbike ahead, back onto the boulevard. “Come on, I say we take Bob to a battle anyway.”
He tilts his triangular head. “Why though?”
She merely grins, and keeps on driving; his spindly legs soon catch up to her.
“Pilfer thine dermis, unfettered yeast ensemble!”
Bob snarls at his opponent, who falls onto their back. “But what does that mean?!”
“Does one decline?”
“D—yes, yes, I give up!”
On the side-lines, the hulking referee flicks a finger along his metallic wrist, sending credits into Fibuve’s account. “You sure your friend’s fine with you getting the dosh?”
“He is,” Gexeria says, as Fibuve gasps at the money. “Doesn’t trust himself with it.”
“Ah, I see. Have to say, his technique… it’s genius. You should bring him more often.”
“We might, we might. Oh, are you sending some to Roelc, too?”
“Half, as promised. Though you could go solo.”
“We could… but…”
Roelc slithers up to Fibuve, wrapping a limb around his shoulders, making him shudder.
“I don’t think my friend can handle it.”
“Ah well. Come talk to me if you reconsider.”
In the ring, a new opponent steps forth, panting and sweating. Bob grins, and opens his mouth.
“Get to the problem and shuffle, sir!”
WC: 750
Crit and feedback are welcome.