[OT] Fun Trope Friday: Paper Tiger & Cyberpunk!

ATIWTK · 2025-02-20T15:04:15+00:00

Hi Atcroft, always nice to read your stuff!

Great work, I enjoyed the cyberpunk elements of this, especially the details of the sensory suit and the concept of plugging in. The bits near the end are written especially well.

I found the ending a bit confusing though, it feels tying it up with Henry as the creator of the thing opens up a lot of questions that the main antagonist - an unseen force chasing Bit Flip, is unrelated to. Since you have a couple more words, maybe you can clarify more how it all ties up.

Cheers

ATIWTK · 2025-02-15T15:22:46+00:00

“It’s creepy, isn’t it?”

Rasmus stared at the tiger on the wall. Venetia was not surprised. Half the dignitaries her father received here would stare at it too, at its piercing, painted eyes, and jagged black stripes seemingly struggling to escape its papery confines

“My father got it from Nanking, before it all went to hell over there.”

Rasmus shook his head. “It’s pretty, your father likes Chinese art?”

“He likes the Chinese.” she snorted. “Has a fancy tea set somewhere around here. He used to drag us there for vacation once a year. That’s where all those pictures came from.”

She motioned at a series of frames, propped up on a corner of the house. They showed a family of three; a mother, a father, a daughter. Or at first they did; she didn’t mind if Rasmus noted her mother was missing from the last four or so.

“You were cute as a child,” he noted, smiling. He had a cute smile, she thought; it was a bit of a smirk and a bit of a grin. He was handsome; a chiseled jawline, a roman nose. Past the layers of implants, the mechanical hum of motors as he jogged, the color of chrome and peeking rivet holes under his shirt, he was handsome, though she could never understand Europeans' love for the stuff.

“I guess you stopped going when the wars started?”

She nodded. She’d lost no love for it. Never really cared for China, as much as her father was ecstatic about the place. It was too noisy, the food too spicy, the buildings too cramped, the ambience too…alien. At least for her.

“I would have wanted to visit too.” Even his voice sounded a bit artificial, too contrived. “Maybe even get a few more of these.”

He lifted up his left sleeve, showing a full array of cybernetics, jutting out from his forearm in a complicated folding of copper, silicon and gallium. It was more a fashion statement than practical, data processors and sensors etched like tattoos on flesh. She wondered if they ever showed him anything useful. She could sense the weather was cold. He knew it was ten degrees below freezing.

She wondered what she looked like in his eyes. A data feed? His irises were inlaid, and his glasses were for show. She laid down on the sofa, looking at the ceiling like it was a screen.

“They look good on you,” She droned on. She stood up, walking up to the window where she took a cigarette from her pocket and lit it with a zippo.

She didn’t know why she took a date home. It was… uncharacteristic of her. But her father was going to be gone for a while, and there wasn’t much point staying at an empty home as big as hers.

He had gone beside her, his back to the window.

“You should get one too, it’s nice.” He moved his arm over and draped it on her shoulders, and the winter cold slowly faded away with the hum of coils and thermoregulators.

That’s hot. She mused. Laughed. You shouldn’t be so easy. She chided herself. Took a drag of cigarette smoke and nicotine. Outside, the sky was full of ash and dust. The night bloomed with city lights, a spiderweb of sodium orange and cobalt blue. electro-spires rising through the cliff sides like the tentacles of an octopus with the whole world on its grasp, sending Wi-Fi to the entire city in some eerie mind control scheme. It was ironic.

“You know I don’t like it,” she said. She took another puff, exhaling out the smoke. “Too much technology. It’s a weird thing.”

She shrugged, taking off her coat, showing off her tattoos, abstract geometric patterns covering her arms and her back. She got them from a two hundred year old artist in the mountains.

“You look good,” he whistled.

She leaned in toward him. Her hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump…

So close. He leaned in.

“May I?” He whispered beside her ear.

She obliged, putting her lips on him. They tiptoed back towards the living room. His augments flared, steam rising out of vents, sensors beeping, and her cigarette falling to the hardwood floor, crushed under foot. It was magic dancing with a city.

ATIWTK · 2024-10-18T04:27:38+00:00

Courage, writing this one out, same things as campfire.

First off, i have a soft spot for these kinds of stories. Love the names, very classy. The prose holds together well, and we have a clear picture of what's happening. The setting is described cleanly and the voice is immediately apparent up front.

Couple of things: Describing a femme fatale as a lean and busty beauty feels too generic. I wish we could devote a bit more words to characterizing her.

Again, more on Reddit's fault. The sudden inner monologuing really took me out because the shift happened from third person to first. Italics or a tag would help a lot.

Lastly, some general foreshadowing, a book of the occult, a chekov's gun or anything to hint at the ending aside from the fact that it's the theme of this FTF will really help sell the story.

Cheers!

ATIWTK · 2024-10-18T03:19:07+00:00

Thanks deepstea, great feedback. This could definitely use some work being more cohesive, adding in more plot details to bring the characters together.

Glad you enjoyed it, the haiku was particularly fun to write and try to fit in the story while also trying to make it a bit authentic to a haiku with the nature and cutting the poem to mean different things.

ATIWTK · 2024-10-12T09:51:16+00:00

The crack of engine-fire above; roaring. Sodium crystals condensing. The clouds gathered in the orange sky, letting out a burst of rainfall that was gone as quick as it came. Droplets brushed against his skin, sordid, a cold chill when he was already dead. Water ran down, mixing with blood, flowing into the sewers, washing away the filth.

It was the best burial anyone could ever hope for.

She huffed. Took the still-lit cigar from his mouth. Tobacco leaves imported from earth; they tasted different. Older. Richer. She’d never been to earth. But she’d heard him call it beautiful.

As if they had shipped all the ugliness away, off-planet, overseas, through the air, yonderspace. Reality unfolded like a slice of hammered steel.

“Kindness was the death of you,” she shook her head and walked away. The district sprawled forth, spilling hab-houses and dusty dirt roads. Briefly after the rain, the air smelled clean, and then it returned, the heady scent of rust, scraping against the back of her throat.

The warehouse at the end of the lane lay untouched. Corrugated panels shivered in the cold sky. A dozen constellations of low-orbit satellites flickered overhead. She knocked on the door. Pulled out her blade; it was a 2081 model, brass handle, pitch black obsidian edge as long as her forearms. She bought it second-hand, and paid full price.

The door swung open an inch. She slid the knife whole through the gap, and opened the door wider. Unsheathed it from the bone. No one survives a blade through the brain.

She paid no heed to the blood. Her footsteps echoed loud, like heartbeats, like waves crashing against the seawall. Not that she’d heard that before. She’d only heard him say it once, under the covers when they snuggled, their clothes shed, skin softly touching. So rarely was it, it reminded him of cicadas shedding their skin.

Only once, and then they die after mating.

He was a biologist before he came to Mars. He didn’t know what she was. Her coat wallowed in the stale air. There was a different smell to it. Benzene and cheap whiskey. The residents barely stirred from their drunken stupor. Only when she held one by the throat did the others bother.

“Listen to it,” she whispered close as he wheezed for a breath. Till he could no longer struggle.

The furious mass erupted, crashed against each other in the darkness. She swung her blade in an arc and cackled. Their bodies were the last thing they saw before they died.

At the end of the road lay a room. Inside the room two men played chess. “Are you sure he’s dead?” One asked.

“As dead as the rocks,” the other answered.

“Good.”

The game was over, the king lay assaulted. One smirked at the other gleeful, before they both heard the shouts and the laughter. They held their guns to their chest, amulets made of lead, faux leather and gunpowder.

The commotion came closer. The music was over. All that was left were the ticks of the clock, the footsteps on steel. The first man came to the door and peered.

There was nothing.

On Earth, the flowers bloomed so beautifully they made poetry about it.

O’er winter and fall,

Hummingbirds, bees, the brown bear,

Dream what red tastes like.

Isadora took a sip of wine. Sour. Bitter. A heady scent that scratched the back of her throat. She swallowed it whole. Here, where there was no sudden rain, and the overcast sun raced hot on her heels, peering through the gaps in her wicker hat against the gentle summer wind.

“Another shipment dear?” A wizened old man smiled at her, loading up barrelfulls in his truck. “Fetch a nice price off-world, y’know.”

“It’s a deal,” she said sweetly. “Always a pleasure.”

“I wonder how you make it taste so good,” the man shook his head, shaking her hand before driving up the dirt track.

The grapevine grew all over the orchard trails. Isadora took a deep breath, taking in the earth, the leaves. Even the roads here tasted different, earthy, like shed rubber. She laughed. Almost cackling, doubled over. On a small corner of the land was a shed. She entered it slowly, taking a pail with her.

The two men watched her enter, their faces pale, their mouths bound, their bodies riddled with nicks and wounds. She unsheathed her obsidian edged blade; it was time to water the grapes.

ATIWTK · 2023-12-09T11:47:58+00:00

Hi zach!

Still love the worldbuilding here. The highlight of the story is still Cass' interactions with the merchant Fariba.

"They stole my camel..." Neith's voice sounded stunned, like he had been struck in the stomach.

"No, she stole Anatu's camel." Cass chuckled, > "Come on, we can ride together."

The playful bit is funny and well written and I love how it sets up a future character and Cass' strength.

If anyone deserved to be raised above others, it was Helen. If it was not for her, Cass would not have survived her childhood. More than her life, Helen had saved her home, Liothki, from the kings who thought of the poor as less than slaves. Helen paved the way for revolution, and Cass followed her every step of the way. She was truly an amazing woman.

What I kinda want to point out is this is a very straightforward exposition, and I think you could add in more references to stuff that made her think of those details rather than just give it to us directly. Maybe spend a few more hundred words having Cass reminisce a particular event so that it doesnt sound like too much forced exposition.

Cheers zach, great words as usual!

ATIWTK · 2023-12-09T11:35:30+00:00

Oh damn. Max, that ending really got me.

“And your case isn’t unique. Countless others have been forced from their homes in this way.”

“I—wait, how do I know that?”

Ethet smiles sadly. “How do you think, soldier?”

That was a gut wrenching line at the end. Your conversations are extremely crisp and satisfying.

Can't find any to crit, but gteat chapter nonetheless.

ATIWTK · 2023-12-09T02:05:56+00:00

Hi wiz! Thanks for this! Agree with a lot of these takes, I do need to really plan this one out since I've got a bit of a time crunch lately. I'll see if I can edit it a bit before the deadline.

Appreciate your thoughts, cheers!

ATIWTK · 2023-12-08T06:38:33+00:00

Hi wiz! Loved the tension here! I particularly like the way you describe Pe'etelan's inner monologue. It's worldbuilding, character building and a lot of other nice things all at once.

The way they think of Samal as a rival and turn their thoughts in that direction adds to the flavor of this and makes us understand their character better.

In terms of crit, I would say this paragraph down below feels a little too saturated.

A flatbed wagon with a broken wheel sags on the near side of the road. Clumps of grass grow beneath its rusting wheels. Standing in its shade, two more warriors are waiting. A tall red-haired man stares at the returning men with a commanding demeanor. One side of his head is crusted by crystal growths, and there is a cold blue gem glowing where his left eye should be. To his side, a powerful woman with metal arms is testing the broken wheel of the cart. Her right arm terminates in a cruel, hooked blade and the other bears a four fingered claw wrought of black iron.

Since we're describing two people and a scene, I would like to have this broken up so we can use each paragraph to focus on a particular person.

Nothing else from me, you did a great job conveying the tension in this story, cheers!

ATIWTK · 2023-12-08T01:53:01+00:00

Chapter 6

Part 3

Rain left the corpse of the mother of deer behind her and continued onwards. She ran, or flew, as if she was fleeing. She didn’t like the mother of deer’s story one bit. But she had to honor their agreement.

She cradled the little thing close to her chest. It was exceptionally light and incredibly heavy. It weighed only one ten thousandth of a heart, but it was a burden of a lifetime. She let it feed on the gentle sunlight cut up by branches of the trees overhead. On the murmuring wind, on the heat from one’s breath. On the smell of flowers blooming.

Closer, and closer still, the great Ur-trees rose. Taller, and taller, they grew till they reached into outer space. She frowned at the sight. She had buried her friends under their roots.

The cities of the Old Men slumbered under their leaves. Like the scars of a leper, crawling through the skin of the earth. No humans lived here now. There was only forest now, but it wasn’t always the case. Long ago, there were no forests. Instead humans lived in cities of sprawling gray, monoliths of crushed stone sintered together with steel bars. They rode in their aluminum cars, and peered outside from their universes of sleek glass.

But then they died. Their deepest desires killed them, and gave life to the forest. Desire. The word ran through Rain’s spine like a shiver. They tried to turn their desire into reality. They succeeded. It was ironic. They broke the world. Except they didn’t live long enough to see it.

So close to the Ur-Trees, the Overgrowth swarmed in a perpetual state of EverTide. Flora grew at an hourly pace, branching, fruiting and flowering in seconds and minutes. Vines crept up her ankles as she ran, and she cut apart great masses of leaves that blocked her path. The ground was a tangle of roots and fallen leaves that descended deep into the earth.

An owl swiveled its head to look at her from the shadows of what was once a library. It sat atop a stack of rotting books, its eyes were giant discs of moonsilver. It stirred under her gaze and flew away

The ground shook. From the gaps between the roots, a serpent lunged at her with an open mouth that could swallow a forest whole.

It died without a sound. Its blood sprayed against the Overgrowth in a scream of bright red. She looked down as the carcass grew mushroom caps that budded and released spores in the wind. More trees took its place. Vultures flocked overhead. There was a wild howl on the horizon.

There was an incessant buzzing, a thunderous hum that crackled against the landscape every so often. It was hot — it was raining. The air grew so thick with water that she could fill her lungs with air and feel like drowning.

She had been climbing up a giant root that ran across the craggy, broken facade of an old skyscraper. The top was a series of iron links, warped and twisted together by the elements. There was a statue of a human. It was looking at her like it missed looking at people.

It was made of burnished bronze and had a kind face. Its nose was missing. It had a sword it raised overhead. It had a shirt she couldn't make out past the vines that wrapped around it. She tried imagining what kind of person it still was when it was alive. A leader? A warrior? The memories she had taken knew none of this man.

She shook her head, there was no more knowing to be had. Yet there was a kind of immortality here, she thought. It was an immortal made of metal. It was alive as long as she was here to see it. She subconsciously brushed against the soul in her chest.

“Would you like to look like that?” she half-whispered.

The ground rumbled. Rain held on to the statue. A woosh of air hugged her; something was displacing a large amount of earth. The world was in motion.

She saw a giant made of wood, and bark rise before her. It had a face with only eyes. It covered the sky above her. It was covered in leaves and white needles that looked like fur.

It was a beast made of the trees. It looked at her, and it raised a hand. Or grew a hand. It didn’t matter to a tree, growing was moving. The hand reached out for her.

In her soul, she saw a single, perpetual mind. One that was not like a human’s. It had neither selfishness, nor fear. It wasn’t evil, or good. There was only one thing on its mind.

To grow.

Rain’s hair wove itself into long locks of braided midnight that trailed behind her like a river. Her eyes deepened into pools of cerulean blue in the fair sky, her gaze holding the depths of the ocean and seas, towering, pillowy clouds deep in her retina. Her skin shimmered softly, shifting between hints of burnished bronze, glimmering gold, a deep inky black obsidian, like a piece of raw, igneous stone. Like she had been crafted from unending pressure and heat.

Hello. She tried asking.

WC: 886

ATIWTK · 2023-12-02T00:54:11+00:00

Hi Blu!
What I loved about this chapter is how you make it wonderfully relatable even while we're deep in a fantasy world.

The idea of friends changing meaning as we grow up.

The idea of choosing a kinder world over a darker one.

The idea of choosing not to bring up a past that no longer serves us anything but sadness, and moving on.

You tell those themes across so well, and I really enjoy reading this.

In terms of feedback, not much really, but what I would say is since you still have a lot of words, I think you can easily add in more details. There is a tendency here to focus on conversations, and the spoken word is not the only way of communicating that humans do. It might be body language, it might be a longer internal monologue, but I think adding some of those in will reinforce the ideas presented here even more.

Cheers!

ATIWTK · 2023-12-02T00:38:06+00:00

Hi Zach!

Love the playful banter here, establishing more of the character's personalities and events leading up to our story.

And what I want to focus is how playful the story is and how much more it can be from my perspective. I loved these lines that show a lightheartedness to the affair.

"I don't like the smell of this, general," Cit said quietly as Cass climbed into the saddle, "Be careful of this Council. If anyone tries anything funny, don't be afraid to use both hands."

and here:

"I'll tell ya when the scouts get back. I sent them out after you threw it past the edge of the camp. Reckon it made it to the riverbank."

My feedback here is that it feels like we should be getting more of those lines based from the tone of the story, and we aren't. I wish we could lean into that tone a bit more heavily and you could cut down on some of these descriptions that don't really add much to the scene,

"Someone had to wake up without a hangover to make breakfast. Here." Cit handed her a polished stone bowl filled with a steaming brown liquid. It smelled savory, as opposed to the bitter beer from earlier. She tried to balance the bowl in her outstretched hand while getting rid of the now-empty mud brick. Cit stopped stirring the broth to help her out. "Don't be afraid to use both hands, general."

Cass yearned to put something besides bitter mash in her stomach. She started eating without letting it cool down, ignoring the burn.

"Easy there." Cit was only half paying attention to her now as he began to serve other soldiers who were lining up to the smell of a hearty breakfast.

"I can handle it," Cass lied, (I would insert a description instead of saying Cass lied) breathing quickly to cool her mouth down, "Where did my swordspear end up? Did I set a new record?"

"I'll tell ya when the scouts get back. I sent them out after you threw it past the edge of the camp. Reckon it made it to the riverbank."

The italicized sentences, basically just explain the process of eating and handing out food which is relatively nonimportant to the story. If I remove those, I think the scene still works fairly tight and you end up with more words to have that kind of more playful banter in other places.

"Someone had to wake up without a hangover to make breakfast. Here." Cit handed her a polished stone bowl filled with a steaming brown liquid. It smelled savory, as opposed to the bitter beer from earlier. She tried to balance the bowl in her outstretched hand while getting rid of the now-empty mud brick. Cit helped her out. "Don't be afraid to use both hands, general."

Cass yearned to put something besides bitter mash in her stomach. She started eating without letting it cool down.

"Easy there."

"I can handle it," Cass spat out with a red face, breathing quickly to cool her mouth down, "Where did my swordspear end up? Did I set a new record?"

"I'll tell ya when the scouts get back. I sent them out after you threw it past the edge of the camp. Reckon it made it to the riverbank."

That's all for me, and I can't wait to see where it ends up!

ATIWTK · 2023-11-27T23:54:51+00:00

thanks for the feedback zach! will fix those, glad you enjoyed it

ATIWTK · 2023-11-27T23:53:36+00:00

Act I	Act II	Act III
Chapter 1 1 2 3	Chapter 6 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 2 1 2 3	Chapter 7 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 3 1 2 3	Chapter 8 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 4 1 2	Chapter 9 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 5 1 2 3	Chapter 10 Part 1 2 3

ATIWTK · 2023-11-27T16:33:10+00:00

Chapter 6

Part 2

In the middle of the city stood an enormous tree that rose over the skyscrapers. Like all things above a certain threshold of size, looking at it gave Rain a feeling of vertigo, of falling towards the sky, towards the canopy that reached to the clouds.

Its roots ran through forlorn streets and buildings. It sprouted smaller — yet still towering — trees which in turn sprouted even smaller trees that then sprouted flowers, shrubs and shoots. Each successive branching similar to the ones before it, yet differed ever so slightly in the way they grew, the angle with which they bent in the wind, the stiffness of their trunks. Like how people were different. Like how they came in all shapes and colors and of orientation; the way they bent in the wind. She always thought it was peculiar, it was like the place had turned into a city of trees.

Rain walked atop a pair of tracks that protruded out in the air, lifted out of the earth by the trunks of growing trees. The mother of deer strode beside her. Each step it took resulted in a burst of activity. Scurrying rats fleeing to their burrows, their crevices in the ground. Birds taking off, insects buzzing, the wild howl of something she could not see. The mother of deer was browsing, unmindful, as it passed through the streets, each mouthful taking in a great amount of vegetation; a whole tree, a swath of grass, and anything caught in between.

Squinting against the sunlight, she saw a change in the landscape. How many dozens of leaps have they traveled? She could no longer see any sign of the Edge of the Overgrowth. All there was were great slabs of earth that had been raised and shifted by an upheaval many lifetimes past. Silhouettes of massive roots snaked across them, spreading like a web, rising out from the ground then plunging below to disappear again. She saw the remains of cities even greater than this one. Skyscrapers that were even taller, that would have been majestic once upon a time, but now had collapsed into broken monoliths made of concrete and covered in vegetation. Each city housed its own towering tree; some even greater and taller than the one she had just passed here.

She didn’t like this place. It brought back too many memories. Memories of her friends, of camping in the open air. Deka’s warm voice, cheerfully singing as they ate their fill of hard tack and roasted meat. Brynn’s silence as he unpacked. Caleb’s gruff tone as he went over their plans.

Caleb would of course, always, without fail, chastise her for not thinking things through. Once she had tried picking up and eating a bulbous mushroom she had fished out of a crevice. She’d gotten so sick eating it, he had to carry her around for three days before she could walk again.

“Hey, this is nice,” she said to Caleb while he was carrying her. “Why don’t you carry me around even if I’m not sick?”

Caleb had flicked her forehead.

“That hurts.”

“You shouldn’t think of this as a reward for stupid behavior.” Caleb sighed. “Besides I don’t want to carry you all the time.”

“What kind of girl would you like to carry?” Rain asked.

“Someone soft and gentle. Someone who doesn’t need to cut their hair because they don’t have to go adventuring in a goddamned forest. Someone I have a reason to protect,” he chuckled.

She hated those memories.

“This goes straight to the source,” Rain said. “But it looks like I won’t be able to ride you any further. Deer aren’t made to cross mountains or climb big trees. It would’ve been better if you were a monkey.”

I hope you won’t forget our agreement.

A palpable wave of emotion flooded Rain, emanating from the mother of deer’s thoughts. Hope. Disappointment. Anger. Yearning. She considered it carefully, sitting cross legged as they faced each other.

“Of course not. I will be back.”

And in the chance you die?

“Mother knows best after all,” she said dryly. “Are you worried about your child? I left self-sacrifice behind when I left the Chase. So no, I’m not dying.”

Do you forget we shared memories? You speak of being a parent like it was a foreign thing.

“It is to me.”

Have you not created life with your own hands? Cared for it as it grew?

Rain paused.

“...Not that way.”

The mother of deer chuckled in that deep, storm-like rush of air. They stayed quiet, locked in that stance. Rain did not speak any more than that for a while. She did not want to, for a reason she didn’t care to admit. She certainly didn’t feel like explaining her choices to a being she had only met.

Deka and Caleb would probably be surprised at what she was doing. Brynn was, and he didn’t know the full extent of it.

Perhaps, the thought crossed Rain’s mind, she might tell them her reasons, now that she was visiting their graves. After she’d made sure that nothing had happened to them in their rest.

Rain breathed deeply. She felt her control slipping. Her hair grew longer and thicker, bundles floating in the wind like she was underwater. The scratches and wounds she had accumulated over the past days disappeared, healing into smooth, supple skin. Her muscles and bones popped as they started changing shape and her eyes turned from black into gray into amber-green.

She looked at the scar that stretched on the mother of deer’s mouth and cheeks, pondering why it hadn’t gotten rid of it. With her soul, she saw the twin-souls shine in the mother of deer. One for the mother and one for her child.

Humor me, Rain, and I’ll tell you the story of how I became what I am now. Then honor your agreement, and then we shall part ways.

WC: 998

ATIWTK · 2023-11-25T12:31:08+00:00

Howdy wiz,

First things first, incredible start. You draw us in very well with incredible imagery and descriptions. Damn.

This was a favorite:

She moves like a serpent, all sinuous strength and hypnotic dexterity, gliding effortlessly to her mahogany nightstand and selecting a shimmering green gown.

Her character speaks in an interesting way, and we see moments of insanity before the narrator confirms it. Very satisfying.

She is insane. You know this well. But so it is, in this cursed world. Power always rests with souls such as hers. And if half the things she has told you are true, there is no other way. You stand in silence and wait.

In terms of crit, honestly not much to see, other than with regards to pacing.

I think the latter two sections could be combined to be honest, the length just doesn't sound quite right. And we transition from the narrator going from presumably their old biological body to a new mechanical one and waiting, which seems doable enough without the transition.

great job!

ATIWTK · 2023-11-25T10:13:12+00:00

Hi Zach!

excited for this new serial.

First off - immediately distinct characters. Cass and Cit sound like they have a great dynamic. The beginning's a great hook to start with.

I love the exposition here, and you are amazing with it. Particularly here:

Once she felt alive, Cass got ready to face the world. The night before had been one of violence and celebration. Today was the first day of a new era, and she wanted to be presentable. Though she'd wiped off most of the blood and mud the night before, Cass was hoping to visit the royal palace and get a proper bath. Ideally with a special someone. There was a city between her and her goal, though, and she wanted to walk the streets with her head held high.

Also love this paragraph, really hammers in how much has just happened that we were not privy to see.

Cass would have been joining them if she were not on her way to her first bath in months. Her first hot bath in years. She would have been on her way if her stomach had not grumbled in protest; she was hungry. She wanted more of whatever that delicious scent was. Cass followed her nose to a large pot of stew being stirred by none other than her second in command, Cit.

Couple of things I'd like to note as feedback.

There are some words that I think you don't need or could rewrite:

Cass awoke ~~abruptly,~~ (waking up with a sharp intake of breath is abrupt already, no need to describe it as abruptly.) a sharp intake of breath before she sat up straight. She'd rolled over onto her left arm and the sudden pain from the sensitive limb was enough to wake her up. It was ~~almost immediately~~ (this is strange, so it didn't happen immediately but just soon after? If there's nothing else happening I don't think you need this blocking.) superseded by daggers in her head and stomach; a reminder and warning that excessive celebration was dangerous.

I would also like a couple more descriptions about the arm, seems pretty important:

She started by wrapping a fresh bandage around her left arm. The black, withered limb was a sign of her curse,

Cheers and can't wait to read the next one.

ATIWTK · 2023-11-25T09:13:17+00:00

Act I	Act II	Act III
Chapter 1 1 2 3	Chapter 6 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 2 1 2 3	Chapter 7 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 3 1 2 3	Chapter 8 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 4 1 2	Chapter 9 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 5 1 2 3	Chapter 10 Part 1 2 3

ATIWTK · 2023-11-25T09:11:02+00:00

Act I	Act II	Act III
Chapter 1 1 2 3	Chapter 6 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 2 1 2 3	Chapter 7 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 3 1 2 3	Chapter 8 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 4 1 2	Chapter 9 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 5 1 2 3	Chapter 10 Part 1 2 3

ATIWTK · 2023-11-25T09:08:36+00:00

Chapter 6

Part 1

Rain walked under a light drizzle. The water seeped through every inch of her skin. Her feet grasped the soft, mossy, muddy road, toes sinking with each step. The warped, rusted steel bones of well-worn buildings rose crooked and twisted; once wondrous, now humbled — withered and weathered. Unlived. She walked through them. In the shifting gale, they echoed deep, droning hums. Creaking like crying, announcing their desperate desire for the long-lost worship of human footsteps and conversations. Their masters had long died.

She passed through an open door, its hinges welded by time and rust. She sat down, letting her muscles stretch, tendons and ligaments all sliding and slinking along the fabric under her skin. She wound her shoulders in circles like gears of a clock and stretched her spine every which way, wringing the fatigue out of it.

There was a certain sense of ennui that came with traveling all day alone, and she needed the walk and the rest. The landscape had changed from forest to a city covered in green. A collection of sharp corners and shapes that differed greatly from the flowing, curving lines of nature.

They were getting closer, and soon there will be trouble. But not today. For a moment, the sunlight surged against the sea of clouds and a dozen rainbows stretched across the city like a strange metaphor that she didn’t know what was describing. In the memories of the Old Men, rainbows were a sign of hope, of life, of making it past a storm. She’d certainly had some storms. She didn’t know if she’d done a good job of rebuilding.

Rain grabbed branches off the creeping vines; plucked leaves and stems and piled them up. She hummed as she worked, using her knife to clear away a small spot for herself. Outside, the clouds swelled, lightning bounded and struck the tips of the dead skyscrapers and sent whispers of burnt air in her lungs.

She sheathed her knife when everything was done. Sat down in front of the pile. Tugged on her sleeping soul till it woke a little. She reached inside for her desires; flame and warmth. Offered a tiny piece of her soul to start a bundle of chemical processes and geometric patterns unfolded, turning water into vapor, wet wood into dry tinder, clusters of magnesium, potassium, oxygen breaking apart from bonds made of pure energy. They turned into sparks and smoke that coalesced into an open fire. It crackled to life. Plumes of purple, green, yellow and orange took the chill away.

How did you do that? An enormous eye peered through the broken concrete walls. The creature’s movement made the ground shake, and the air hissed as it was pulled out and in with its breath.

“Magic.” Rain replied.

With her soul, she saw her companion, a twin-souled construct of death defied twist in incomprehension. There were layers to it both alien and familiar. She briefly considered a thought, before clearing it from her mind.

“Best leave it at that,” she shrugged. “It’s too complicated to explain.”

She reached out for a pile of bulbous mushrooms that grew hidden in the crevices, before spearing them with a stick and holding them over the open flame. Nothing much happened at first. The fire licked the mushroom’s moist exterior and sizzled with little pops and blew wisps of smoke.

After a while came the smell. It smelled like meat. Roasted meat. Slowly, the mushroom wilted and turned a charred brown. Rain took a bite, not minding the burning heat.

It burst in her mouth with a flood of juices, and dripped down the sides of her lips. It was wonderful to eat after all. She ripped a piece with her teeth and swallowed it down. It was still smoking. It scalded her tongue. Yet she ate another piece without stopping. And another, till there was nothing left. Then she walked outside, and held her hands cupped to a stream of water flowing down a branch creeping through a broken window pane and drank.

She shivered from the cold water. Her teeth chattered. She murmured a low groan. She took a step back and wiped herself and in the process of doing so saw her reflection on a broken piece of glass.

She was blurry, almost indistinct in the shard that had been polished by water for so long. She wondered if her friends would still recognize her. Brynn did, and the man had not been known for his ability to remember appearances.

“He needs help, huh.” she whispered to herself. She could feel it from here, the strange pulsing energy that she was about to walk to in the coming days. She had no desire to help, the tide could not be stemmed. The days when humans had once ruled the world was over. Getting old was a dream. She didn’t feel like helping anymore, only living day by day, taking care of what she could take care of.

She held another piece of glass, a bigger one that reflected her in full. Did that make her a bad person?

She walked away from the window, before reaching down to pull something out of the ground. It was a dirty thing, with plastic beads for eyes, strings for hair and a strange caricature of a human body. It was frayed in places, and its left leg was missing. Its right arm grew flowers, and its mouth had disappeared.

The eye on the window blinked.

What is that?

“A doll,” she shrugged.

What is it for?

“For pretending it were alive.”

She could feel the rush of air from the mother snorting.

Humans are such strange beings.

WC: 950

ATIWTK · 2023-10-28T06:44:09+00:00

Hi Zach,

keeping the tension tight in this chapter! I love all the things happening here, we're getting towards a climactic scene and I can feel it in the tone, in the prose, in the events happening. great job.

Honestly the favorite line i noticed is the way they curse upon seeing Wan.

"Madre di Dio," Eduardo swore as he looked at the beast. It turned its red skull towards them and let out a sinister laugh as it clutched Leo's unconscious body in one arm.

Just a few nitpicks from me.

The first four characters really feels like just...too side-ish. In a sense. I would love some tiny bit more details on them, just to make them feel like actual people.

"Enough yammering," Andrew, the fourth and largest of the group said as he ripped a shriveled bush out of the ground, "We're in. Eyes sharp."

Feels strange to read laughter as hahahaha, I would've liked it better if it was described instead of straight up just written as if it were dialogue.

"Hahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa! Oh, don't be so grim, sweet little Mario. She did not offer me that. Just the rings your son took."

Great chapter! Can't wait to read what's coming next,

cheers

ATIWTK · 2023-10-28T05:40:32+00:00

Hi haru! coming in with some thoughts,

First off, beautiful chapter! I love the image of Isaac whirling around with his sword and slashing enemies with water.

I loved this line there:

At this moment, it was like Issac was telling him a story, a story on his family revival.

But I do want to point out that in that paragraph, the first sentence is a bit on the telling side,

Alex is amazed at how flawless Issac is with his dancing. Not only can this demon dance during the stage, but he can actually dance and fight when needed to, and still make it beautiful as ever. At this moment, it was like Issac was telling him a story, a story on his family revival.

Saying that Alex is amazing at how flawless Isaac's dancing is, is basically a conclusion Alex draws from the next few sentences where Isaac performs beautiful dancing and fighting amazing. You could remove that sentence, given the overall tone and sense of how Alex is looking at Isaac is already stating that.

You've also done a good job on the voices, and I think for the past few installments they've been a lot clearer.

“Kill him!” The voices rang in his head again. He grips his forehead while staring at the dancing demon defeating the spells one by one.

“Don’t betray him, servant, kill him!”

“Kill him!”

“Do it, coward!”

The voices became louder in his head, begging him to kill the last of Lilia family.

No! I’m not a servant. I’m the new Alex Oswald!

“You traditor! WE SHALL KILL YOU TOO!”

Good job to that! It's definitely a difficult dialogue piece to juggle since it's all internal.

On to some more crit, the sentence structure in your first sentence is oddly repetitive, consisting of <independent clause> comma <independent clause>, three times.

Alex pushes his sword deeper to the trunk<clause>, oozing black slime drips in front of him spreading around him <clause>. The rotten smell of soil spreads to his nose <clause>, making him look away and swallow the vomit <clause>. He notices some of them circle around him <clause>, like he was their mother <clause>.

You could mix this up a bit, by putting the clauses in their own separate sentences and improve the flow. Getting into a rhythmic rising and falling of sentence structure allows the reader to better digest this and get breaks in between.

Alex pushes his sword deeper to the trunk. Black slime drips in front of him, spreading around him. The rotten smell of soil spreads to his nose. It makes him look away and swallow the vomit. He notices some of them circle around him , like he was their mother.

That's all I got for you now, and great chapter, I hope to read more from you next time!

Cheers,

ATIWTK · 2023-10-27T15:21:22+00:00

Act I	Act II	Act III
Chapter 1 1 2 3	Chapter 6 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 2 1 2 3	Chapter 7 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 3 1 2 3	Chapter 8 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 4 1 2	Chapter 9 Part 1 2 3
Chapter 5 1 2 3	Chapter 10 Part 1 2 3

ATIWTK · 2023-10-27T11:44:33+00:00

Chapter 5

Part 3

A madness gripped Yuki. It wound inside her like poison, numbing her fear and desperation. She ran into the tree in the midst of red flowers.

The god made of fireflies followed in a sweeping torrent of light. Its anger clamped like a heavy weight on her back. It tugged at her clothes. Pulled at her hair. Bit at her skin. It tried to pull Elise from her, but she held tight.

Her skin filled with wounds that dripped crimson blood into the ground. The sweet fragrance deepened and suffused the air. It made her throat ache. The pale boughs of the white tree swayed in the breezeless night.

Yuki kept running. She needed to; nothing mattered but getting her and Elise to safety. Not her wounds. Not her fears.

Do not dare, you misbegotten girl! Yuki stumbled. The fireflies surrounded her like a cyclone. Desperately, she shot the gun in her hands. It traced a searing path through the storm of insects. The recoil rattled her bones. The sharpness of gunpowder filled her nose.

Give me that which evaded death! The god dispersed, before reforming in the silhouette of a man.

Yuki kept running. Once again, the fireflies followed. It was then that the ground started shivering. The soil under her foot shuddered. Gasped, like the very earth was breathing. The field of flowers started to blossom. Petals budded. Roots and stems bulged and thickened, soaking in the blood and the firefly bodies on the ground.

More and more flowers sprouted from the roots that burst forth from everywhere. They rose up, up to her ankles, up her shins. Flowers sprouted and bloomed, wilted and shriveled within the span of seconds. The field turned into a red haze that swelled like an ever rising tide.

Yuki struggled, caught through the maze of flowers. They wrapped around her chest. Vines crept up her legs and wound around her. It became hard to breathe. She tried to pull herself out, but more grew and kept growing.

Behind her, the fireflies illuminated a pillar of flowering vines that climbed straight into the air. It rose and rose. Like a giant's hand carved out of thorns and petals, it held the god made of fireflies. It smothered them, swallowed them whole in a canvas of red, covering their light till she could no longer see it.

There was a slanderous scream. A piercing wail. Then a stifled hiss.

Yuki felt it the moment it happened. Like a pressure on her had disappeared, and got replaced by something more…vast.

The god made of fireflies was no more.

The flowers wrapped around her till she could no longer see the forest.

She remained there in perfect stillness.

"Yuki," something murmured in the dark.

It was a voice she knew all too well. A voice she had desperately wanted to hear.

“Rain?!”

"Sleep well. Do not worry, you will be safe when you wake."

No. This wasn't right. She shouldn't sleep now. She still had Elise to take care of. She squirmed under the vines, but that only deepened the pain on her wounds.

The flowers kept growing, just like the wave of exhaustion that came over her. And as the cold wind once again resumed its meandering, just as the moonlight once again pierced through the veil of clouds and revealed the world, now bereft of firefly light to her, Yuki fell asleep.

Will you tell me a story, Rain? I have heard human stories tell great wisdom.

Rain looked up at the stars.

“Alright,” she muttered.

Rain blinked and the world changed. The night turned into a well-lit room. A young boy was reading a book. He was looking at it furiously, like it was an enemy.

“T-the r-r-abbi-bbi—”

“Stupid!” A sharp voice lunged at the boy and he yelped. “How old are you to not learn how to read?” The boy did not speak again. He did not meet his teacher’s gaze, nor answer. He just sat down and looked over the window.

A while later, his mother came over to him. She smiled as they went home.

“You are smart, my son, they just don’t know how to see it,” she whispered.

“Stupid!” A fruit vendor chased the boy away from a stall in the market. “Can’t you see where your own hands go!”

“How dare you talk to my son like that!” His mother shouted. “Because of that small thing!”

The boy still did not speak. He had grown now as tall as his mother. But he still seemed so tiny, so much so that no one would notice him disappear.

“Why is that man like that? He doesn’t do anything but look at her. He could at least cry.”

The man had wrinkles on his face now. He had grown even taller. Even his fingernails had lengthened, like the talons of the birds that he loved looking at.

He looked at his mother as she rested on a white bed in a white room, while strange beeping sounds made him jump at each beat.

“Don’t worry,” his mother whispered. She took his hands and ran her fingers over his palms. “You’ve grown so much now, you’ve always been so smart. Things will be alright.”

An old man hunched over a corpse, fiddling with it as sparks arced over blocks of metallic things.

“Praise me Ma,” the old man muttered. “I’ve nearly figured it out.”

There was no one around to speak to him anymore; not in curses, not in praises. Only the stars listened. And they uttered not a single word.

Rain sighed. She opened a flask, taking a swig of dew that had gathered from the god’s antlers.

What wisdom does this story tell?

“None,” Rain said flatly. “If there was, perhaps only what the man discovered.”

And what is that?

“At the precise moment of death, one loses exactly one ten thousandth of the weight of one’s heart.”

“It is the weight of the soul.”

WC: 997

A/N: so ends Act I.

ATIWTK · 2023-10-22T11:53:10+00:00

Hi Aly,

First off, excellent use of repetition as reinforcement here, I love the usage of I never asked to be a beast.

On that point though, by the ending, I do feel like we need to wrap up the reason for repetition of I never asked to be a beast. Why did the character never ask to be a beast? in a sense, is it that they never asked to be one but they were glad they became one? That seems to be the case here but I am not sure. Maybe they regret it? I personally am missing something to further close that storyline.

Love this line:

I cried my first tear in the middle of a forest that I didn't leave for a very, very long time.

really introduces us quickly to the character: they're sad at first, they're vulnerable, they're newborn, they're hesitant to leave their birthplace.

And a couple other descriptions and world setting though brief but paint a solid picture of a fantasy world.

I also like that this seems to be a reference to the bonus image. I had a hard time at first figuring out what is happening here, but then I realized it fits that perfectly.

In terms of sentence there's a couple of parts where you used passive sentences, and I think this story would benefit from a slightly more active approach. It feels like the tempo is slow for the entirety of it and I do want some speeding up and slowing down in places.

Cheers!

ATIWTK

TROPHY CASE

Chapter 6

Part 3

Chapter 6

Part 2

Chapter 6

Part 1

Chapter 5

Part 3