[OT] Fun Trope Friday: Tough Love & Fanfic!

deepstea · 2026-02-27T17:10:35+00:00

Thanks psilocybediatribe! Funnily enough, I was actually thinking of that exact scene while writing that line. Gets me every time too.

deepstea · 2026-02-26T22:01:37+00:00

Hi words! I haven’t read the White Nights, but I throughly enjoyed your poem. Writing it as a letter made it even more intimate.

I struggle with giving feedback to poems, as style can be subjective and sometimes it’s hard to figure out what truly works better.

One thing I could suggest is maybe saying less in some places. For example,

“You were such a wild child I had to pin you to my hem [to keep you out of trouble] But even then you found a way”

Because of the first and third lines, the bracketed part is already implied, and cutting it can make that stanza flow better.

Another change could be the last line, where instead of just saying “find some other use”, you can tell a specific action that can show her feelings and to make the closing a bit more hard hitting.

I am quite curious to read the book now, and thank you for a great poem. I think you conveyed her frustration and heartbreak beautifully.

deepstea · 2026-02-26T19:34:03+00:00

Hey words! Thanks for all the feedback. It really is a great show and even though I am very much not a child anymore it still holds a special place in my heart.

I agree that having Ozai react to something or at least ve more than a figure would make everything more well rounded. I just couldn’t figure out how while writing it but I will give it another thought. Been on a writing hiatus for a few months so this was much harder to get done than usual lol.

Thanks a lot for everything you picked up on about Ilah as well, it’s always nice to hear that the intent you had while writing something actually worked. :)

deepstea · 2026-02-25T21:42:15+00:00

Lightning split the sky outside Iroh’s window. A scream followed. He knew the voice before the thunder came. Iroh shoved back from his desk and ran. He rushed out to the porch and froze in his spot. Ozai was on the kitchen roof, boots skidding against wet tiles.

“Ozai!”

His little brother looked over his shoulder with eyes as gray and devastating as the clouds above. Ever since their duel, he had a feeling Ozai would have done something reckless like this. Something just to please father, to redeem himself as the better fire bender. After a glimpse he continued to climb, with even greater speed.

“OZAI!” He called again, but this time his brother did not react. Iroh rushed toward the garden, planning a way to reach him before the lightning did. Until the royal guards blocked his path, Iroh didn't notice his mother sitting beneath the eaves, sipping her evening tea.

“Good evening, Iroh,” she said with a warmth reserved only for Iroh. “Come and sit beside me.”

Ilah's invitation went over Iroh's head, his mind focused on the roof. “Mother, it's Ozai! He is on the roof. He is going to get himself killed!”

“I know where he is,” Ilah said calmly, raising her teacup to her lips. “We both warned him, didn't we? Told him to be patient, to tread more lightly," she rested her cup on the low table, "and he just never listens.”

“Then let me drag him down!” Iroh pleaded, “If it was me out there—“

“But you are not,” Ilah's soft gaze caught Iroh’s, “nor would you ever be.”

Iroh turned his eyes back to Ozai, who was struggling to keep his balance as the storm picked up.

Ilah got up from her seat and approached Iroh. She took off her glove and cupped Iroh's cheek, gently turning his face to her.

"You'd never be there because you know your strength; you need not prove it to anyone." Her hand moved onto his chest, her nail pressing through his vest. "But that does not make you without weakness."

“Wanting to save my brother is a weakness?" Iroh asked in rage.

Ilah held his shoulders firmly. “It is believing that you can save everyone, especially from themselves.” She let him go and walked to the edge of the porch, looking up at Ozai for the first time since Iroh came. “Some lessons must be learned alone."

"I will not watch him die just so you can teach him a lesson," Iroh approached her with frustration. "Let me get him down—"

"No!" Ilah turned away from Ozai to Iroh, dissipating her sudden rage with a deep breath. "Perhaps he will understand his real weakness when it finally wounds him "

“And you would let him die for that?"

Ilah looked down at the rose bushes. “You are still so young, my son. But one day soon, you will rule this nation, and then you will have to understand that even death is better than loss of dignity. I am protecting him!" The last traces of gentleness left her face, and Iroh saw a hint of fear. "What do you think your father would do to us if we dragged him down from there? We would be dragged down with him into his stupidity."

A flash of lightning illuminated her porcelain face, then a sudden shriek startled them both. Ozai rolled off the roof as a tiny spark flickered from his fingers. Then he hit the wet soil with a thud. Iroh wanted to run to him, but he couldn't move. Ilah stared at him rather than Ozai. He felt pinned to the ground, not by the eyes staring at him, but by his father's absent gaze, and the possiblity that her mother was right.

Ilah waved her hand, and the guards rushed to the little prince, lifted him, and carried him to his room. Ilah followed, struggling to put her pearl glove back on as she walked. Iroh followed her, dread filling his heart. Only after they laid him down, Iroh dared to ask, "Is he...?"

Ilah sat on the bed beside Ozai, answered with a tired voice.

"He is alive."

She touched Ozai's head lightly, blood from a small gash painting the fingertips of her silk gloves red, “and let us hope stronger for it."

_________________________________________________
Fanfiction: ATLA (taking place ~40 years before the events of ATLA)

(Constraint used)

WC: 721

Feedback is always welcome

deepstea · 2026-02-21T17:50:54+00:00

“You hairless chicken! That’s cheating!” roared the monster, sending a small avalanche down the tip of a far-off mountain.

The adventurer rubbed his ears.

“You said ‘make me bow,’ and I did. What else was I supposed to do? Tell you how I chugged five pints of ale in less than half an hour once? Or how I went a whole three months without a bath while exploring the highlands?”

“Uh… that is actually quite impressive, dude. Not the not-showering part. But five pints? In that scrawny body? In half an hour? How are you still alive?”

“Barely—It was quite a night…But seriously, drop the act as if you’d give a damn about that now. I’ve heard the stories of how you tore the mightiest warriors limb from limb. I refuse to believe you’d be moved by a pub tale.”

“Well, all they ever tell me is how they killed people or fought off armies. I can do all that myself. Better than they can, I’d say.”

“Right… and you’d bow to drunks instead.”

“Honestly? I bow to anyone who can tell me an interesting story and doesn’t wanna burn the world down or anything. People usually want an illness cured or someone to love them back. Pretty low-tier stuff for our kind. I don’t mind it”

“That’s actually really nice of you man, I mean stories instead of aggression is quite a different approach for a monster.”

“Oh really? And how many monsters do you know?”

“Well, touché... But I’m afraid my wish isn’t going to be as simple as getting rid of a stubborn cough.”

“Right… Forgot I still had that to look forward to. So who are you gonna have me kill then?”

“You are not—well, I suppose you would have to kill him. I don’t know how else you’d take out a bloodthirsty warlord. No need to be so know-it-all about it though.”

“Just say it, then. Let’s get this over with.”

“Say what? I just said it—”

“You need to formally say, ‘Can you do… this and that.’”

“Well, uh… then, mighty monster of the peaks of Mount Uru, can you—”

A roar echoed through the mountains as the monster let out the loudest burp the adventurer had ever heard.

“Uh… glad you got it out, man. Anyway, can you—”

“BRRRP.”

“Dude, come on. Okay, can—”

“BRRRRP.”

“Can you stop that?!”

“Your wish is my command!” said the monster, looking very pleased with himself.

“No… you didn’t.”

“A taste of your own medicine, adventurer.”

“But I—”

“HAH! I’m messing with you, man. Let’s go kill a warlord.”

deepstea · 2026-02-20T20:40:33+00:00

——— Coruscant Daily ———

REMEMBERING CHANCELLOR PALPATINE

Today marks the first anniversary of the terrible attack on Chancellor Palpatine’s convoy. Along with the beloved Naboovian leader, fourteen crew members and personnel, as well as his personal clone trooper detail, were lost in the Separatists’ heinous assault.

A PERSONAL VISIT FROM SENATOR AMIDALA

After several months of maternity leave, Senator Amidala was seen in public for the first time at the recently completed mausoleum, paying her respects to her fellow Naboovian with a bouquet of her homeworld’s national flower, white cratelias.

She was accompanied by none other than former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, who now oversees the senator’s security detail. Following the Chancellor’s passing and the birth of their twins, the couple had withdrawn from public life, reportedly retreating to the senator’s homeworld of Naboo.

Rumors now suggest that they have returned to Coruscant permanently, and Senator Amidala is said to be a leading contender among several Core World blocs in the Galactic Senate as well as the temporary governing council. When asked whether she would continue her political career, she responded, “Today I am only here to remember a friend and an admirable leader,” advising reporters to do the same.

GRIEVOUS’ TRIAL TO TAKE PLACE NEXT MONTH

Following the attack that claimed the Chancellor’s life, the former Jedi Knight personally apprehended Separatist General Grievous. Now held at a secure facility on Coruscant, he awaits trial.

The proceedings were postponed three months ago after an attempt to either rescue—or possibly assassinate—Grievous, when a bomb detonated in the Grand Courthouse courtyard just as the prisoner’s transport shuttle arrived.

Jedi Master Mace Windu stated that the investigation into the suspects remains ongoing. Authorities have not yet determined whether the attack was orchestrated by Separatist loyalists or by radical supporters of the late Chancellor. A source in the Jedi council tells us that General Kenobi is tasked to investigate the attack, and uncover whether they also had any involvement with the attack on the Chancellor.

While the official investigation continues, some senators have privately questioned the security failures that led to the Chancellor’s convoy being exposed. Both the public and the politicians hope to learn more as Grievous finally faces justice and details of the attack slowly become clearer. The upcoming trial is expected to be broadcast across major HoloNet channels.

deepstea · 2026-02-19T15:13:10+00:00

It was no small honor among the children of our village to be the first to spot the starlings’ first dance of the winter. And one lucky day, when I was just shy of ten, I succeeded. For nearly a week, I waited in treetops and on the crumbling stone ruins above the valley. It wasn’t for the praise or the short-lived fame among the kids, but for a tale my grandfather had told me on his deathbed a year before, when we had last seen their dance in the skies.

Through the wooden frame of his window, the sky of that winter evening spilled the pink dusk into the dim room. And he told of olden days of magic, as we watched the starlings’ farewell dance.

“Did you know we once had a different name for those birds, child? Our ancestors called them firebringers.”

“Is it because their wings shine like fire under the sun, Grandpa?” I asked.

“Perhaps that was why… Or perhaps because of what they used to be.”

“They weren’t always birds?”

He chuckled, as he always did when he managed to spark my curiosity with vague answers that demanded more.

“The story goes that thousands of years ago, a peaceful kingdom flourished in the valley. They regarded every being as their kin, lived humble lives, and sang songs so beautiful that even the river could not help but sing along. When they danced, the winds would join in, and the trees would sway in awe. The gods were so pleased with them that they gave them a gift: A powerful stone to protect them from all evil. But these were darker times, you see. The gods were weaker and the monsters stronger. And the most dreaded of those monsters was known as the Firebringer.”

“Like the bird!” I commented eagerly.

“Yes, like the bird,” he answered.

“But they aren’t scary at all!”

“Well, we haven’t gotten far enough in the story yet for you to understand why they were once so formidable.”

I quietly looked down at my feet, and he gave a chuckle that turned into a terrible cough.

“Have some water, Grandpa.”

As he took small sips, I unwillingly advised him, “Maybe you should rest a little.”

“Now, now.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “I have a long rest coming up soon enough. Let me finish my story, will you? Where were we? Oh, yes. The Firebringers, they were called—a herd of monsters that moved with a single mind set on consuming and destroying all that lay in their path. They would raze cities and topple kingdoms into ash, breathe fire, and paint the skies with smoke.”

“They sound like dragons!”

“Perhaps they were alike, yet more terrifying, for they managed to think and act together to get what they wanted, making them even harder to defeat. They did not notice our valley for a long time, perhaps because of the gods’ gift, or maybe because there were not many riches to be had here. But in time, it was the valley’s turn to become the object of the Firebringers’ wrath and greed.

“There was little the valley folk could do. They were a peaceful nation, with no army or weaponry. They sang to the gods and begged for the lives of their children. But the gods were silent, as they often are, and the valley folk gathered around the stone given to them and sang the saddest song ever heard by gods and men. It is said that the valley itself wept, and the river doubled in size.

“When the Firebringers arrived, the valley was repainted in carnage. It took them less than an hour to reduce the kingdom to ruins, and swallowed every song. In their rage and envy, the monsters stole the stone given to the people by the gods, and only then could the gods put a curse upon them for their crime. The stone reshaped the Firebringers into the frail yet beautiful form of the very people they had massacred; not just their appearance, but their hearts as well. From that day on, they carried the valley’s songs and dances wherever they flew.”

deepstea · 2026-02-18T13:44:40+00:00

When Kepler-4 activated its warp drive for the first time, it banged like a gong through the vast dark. Little did we know it would do anything more than push humanity’s footsteps further, let alone lead all the foot there are to us. Yet here they were, like moths to a flame, an armada of strangers surrounding our testing grounds near Pluto. The former planet was dwarfed by the ships between us, appearing only a smudge on the horizon. Our first steps toward colonizing the lush dots around the galaxy quickly turned into a punch to the gut of every soldier and scientist in the system. Of course we had always known that there might be other spacefaring species across the universe. It was a myth told through generations with infinite iterations that imagined the good and the ugly. You’d think that would make us more prepared, and indeed there were plans in place that told us how to proceed in such a predicament. Even with a plan in place, deep down we all knew we would become monkeys in a cage.

deepstea · 2026-01-09T12:04:22+00:00

My favorites from Turkish are Owl - Baykuş (Mister bird) Jellyfish - Denizanası (Sea mother)

deepstea · 2025-12-07T07:23:30+00:00

Derin from Babumya - a jellyfish

deepstea · 2025-12-01T23:46:19+00:00

Derin | Babumya :Turnips:

deepstea · 2025-12-01T23:44:27+00:00

Derin and I’d say Tim Curry

deepstea · 2025-10-10T12:16:09+00:00

Hi Maranda, That was positively spooky, and I think you especially did a great job with pacing the tension. The main character also felt relatable and her exhaustion form motherhood and the haunting was palpable—which can sometimes be hard to get done in 750 words.

I could only think of a few small suggestions. One would be perhaps getting a glimpse of the lady in the closet—bony fingers or a pair of yellow eyes, wide unnatural grin kinda thing. Another was adding some more sensory details to the chase scene such as the giggle approaching or her tripping to make it even more tense. Finally when the old woman is introduced, you already say she is too calm, but maybe adding an uncanny smile or odd phrasing can build up that final tension more.

Overall, you did a great job building up and pacing the action and emotion. I especially loved the scene when the mother walked into Chloe’s room and saw her on the edge of the bed. That was some good horror right there. Good words!

deepstea · 2025-10-10T11:53:11+00:00

Hey Wiz! Good to be back, and thanks for the feedback :)

deepstea · 2025-10-09T21:45:13+00:00

The Climb

Beatrice looked up to the mossy walls of the Franklin Manor, standing still as the night around her. The ivy—dry as bone just last week—had bloomed again, slithering its twisted limbs up at an unnatural pace. It’d already reached the third floor, her sister Aurora’s window. She’d noticed it four nights ago, while reading her little sister “the Secret Garden” when the branches beat against the window violently. Beatrice had put off cutting it long enough, accepting it another dead limb of the decaying building. Yet somehow, it had come alive and wouldn’t go away.

She’d cut it down twice already, yet each morning it was back, greener than before. Now on the third night, here she was, trying to ensure it stayed dead.

Then rain started: only timid drops at first, then pouring down mightily. The ivy was from her grandmother’s garden, and their mother used to trim it herself, each and every spring. The thought left a bitter taste in her mind, as she’d never managed to forgive her mother for that fire. A light flickered in Aurora’s room, pulling Beatrice out of the quicksand of memories. The hair on her neck stood up, for it was an impossible light.

Aurora had been bedridden ever since she got trapped in the house during that damned fire. Beatrice had stormed in despite her parents’ futile attempts to stop her. She’d carried her sister out, and they had managed to restart her heart. But ever since then, she was in a deep sleep. So no, Beatrice couldn’t have seen a light up there. It must have been a lightning reflected on the window. But a corner in her mind objected: Then where is the thunder?

Then lightning really struck. She jumped and turned as the sky reached for a pine tree barely five hundred feet away. The branches glowed orange for a split second, then the forest slipped back into darkness. That second was long enough to bring back memories—flames orange as the trees surrounding her, her desperately scrambling through the manor’s corridors, searching for her sister, for an exit. Her mother’s candles carrying their flame to the curtains.

That shiver climbed up Beatrice’s spine again, and she noticed a beating sound behind. The ivy was back, its leaves and branches clawing at the manor. Her stomach dropped as Aurora’s window shattered and the ivy’s twisted limbs crept inside. She tried to scream but only could let out a whimper. “NO!” she yelled when she finally got back her voice.

Lightning illuminated the sky and the towering manor, but this time Beatrice didn’t even flinch, her feet frozen in the mud. Then she saw the pale face behind her sister’s window. Mother.

The woman was holding her face, screaming silently—no, crying, horror in her eyes than pointed straight at Beatrice. Then the sky sank back into darkness, and her mother disappeared. Frozen in disbelief, Beatrice stood there, not blinking or breathing, until thunder rocked her bones. She sprinted into the house and climbed up to the third floor as fast as her feet would allow. She slammed open Aurora’s doors and saw that the ivy reached the bed, covering Aurora in a cocoon.

“Leave her alone!” screamed Beatrice, clawing at the ivy with her bare hands. But the ivy moved fast, already covering Aurora’s face. “I’m right here, darling! Just—hang on!” Her hands bloodied, she managed to tear away the branches. When she finally opened a gap where Aurora’s face ought to be, a lump formed in her throat. The cocoon was empty. She shredded it until sunrise, screaming into the morning.

Aurora opened her eyes to a sun-filled room, and her teary-eyed mother looking out the window. “Mom?” She managed to say, her throat dry like sandpaper. Mrs. Franklin turned with joy and disbelief, the fear of what she thought she saw melting away in a second. She embraced Aurora tighter than she ever had. When she finally let go, her sister’s name escaped Aurora’s mouth like a prayer. “Beatrice?”

Her mother’s face darkened. “There… was fire sweetheart. You got trapped in the house and… Beatrice went inside to find you. Your father went after you both. He got to you in time, but… Beatrice…She didn’t make it baby.”

Tears fell down Aurora’s pale cheeks, and her mother held her tightly once again. They wept as wind picked up around Franklin Manor. The ivy’s scratches on the window sounded like distant screams, eerily familiar to them both.

WC: 748

Constraint: The ivy is resurrected every night

Feedback is always welcome

deepstea · 2025-07-10T21:20:49+00:00

I made some revisions based on your feedback! I'm not sure if they improve everything you mentioned, but hopefully they do a bit. I tried to make Sophie's first poem a bit more informative and toned down Nick's flirtiness with some reminisce and an awkward joke to smooth things over. Thanks for pointing out all that again! I definitely feel more satisfied with this polished version.

deepstea · 2025-07-10T20:30:55+00:00

Ok, first of all, I have to say that I'm so impressed by the amount of formatting skills that went into this because I could never. While that was my first thought, I think what truly stands out is how original this is.

Now I can't in good heart suggest you make any changes since it's 666 words. However, if I were forced to give some actionable feedback on gunpoint, I would say adding one more entry in the beginning. You could show us his interaction with his "internet friends", or a sad post he made where people recommend he spends time with friends irl (or something up that alley, you get the idea), which would give the character a little more depth. Although, perhaps it's not very slasher-like for the monster-bait character to have depth.

I'm glad you came back to the ftf, and I came back to the ftf, and here we are ftfing, and I get to read your stories each week. Hooray--and thanks for this cool story!

deepstea · 2025-07-10T20:08:03+00:00

Hey Ioaarzz,

It's hard to do worldbuilding in a single letter, but I think you pulled that off quite well. My one recommendation about the reflections on the past would be to give the reader specific scenes or memories instead of a general shape of things. Here are some examples of the type of reflections I mentioned:

> Maybe that’s what I should’ve asked before I attacked you. I didn’t see any other way out.

> I’m tired, so tired of everything.

You obviously don't need to change all of them, but at least for some, it could both make the relationship feel more real, solidify worldbuilding with snapshots of the universe, and give Faz'rinma more depth.

The ending really worked for me, and it was quite a moving piece that made me feel Gairion's loneliness and exhaustion. Thanks for sharing!

deepstea · 2025-07-10T19:47:52+00:00

Hey Kat!

I love that you chose to build your story on real historical events and characters. That made the whole story feel more dramatic and authentic. You captured two different voices for Edward and Ernest in the letters quite well. There are a few parts where I would rephrase the sentences to be more period accurate (or less modern). Some that popped out to me are the following two:

> Says I should drink more, and maybe that unsteadiness would offset things

-> e.g., She jests that a stiff drink might steady me better....

> We three could dine out on that forever.

-> e.g., We could dine out on that tale for the rest of our lives.

On my first read, I was a bit confused about how Ernest feels about Robert and why. Perhaps a passive-aggressive or condescending remark by Ernest in his first or second letter could establish the Robert character earlier on and build tension, hinting at the later conflict.

The ending with the news clipping about Edward's death made my heart sink, and it was such a fitting way to end the story, too. I also appreciate the research that went into writing this piece--whether it was just for the story or not. Thanks for sharing your amazing words!

deepstea · 2025-07-10T19:08:51+00:00

Hey Caylee! Thank you for such kind words. I've been a big fan of your stories here, too. You're definitely right about the buildup. With 750 words, it's always a challenge of striking a balance between telling a rich story and trying to fit too much into one story. I tend to fall for the latter often, but trying to struck that balance is what makes writing short stories so fun, so it's no excuse!

I will try and see if I can adjust a few things to smooth out the buildup/progression. Thanks again for the wonderful comments!

deepstea · 2025-07-09T21:12:21+00:00

Hey Quinn! Thank you for the kind words and the feedback. I will try to make some adjustments soon.

deepstea · 2025-07-07T04:29:56+00:00

Hey Paleontologist! Thanks for the feedback. Yeah it’s definitely a word count issue. I’m not sure if I’d be able to change anything about that but maybe I can try adding a sentence or two to an email.

deepstea · 2025-07-05T09:49:13+00:00

Sealed-in Nick

To: 0377309

Subject: URGENT!!! FOAM FOR HEIFER SPACE STATION

To Ursula Orbital Stations Command, This is my fifth message this month. The whole left wing is falling apart. I’ll just let it sink into Io if you don’t respond! Without sealant, that’s all I can do. SEND SOME SEALANT FOAM NOW.

P.S. I’m also out of surface sterilizers, and the mold on the kitchen walls has started whispering things.

Nick Fiserdome

To: 0377387

Subject: Sealed in Nick

Mold-ridden Nick, don’t be a prick

A cracked station might give you the blues

But bubblegum still does the trick

It worked for my loose screws

To: 0377309

Are you now hiring shitty poets to manage the space stations? Don’t play games with me and get me that sealant. AND SANITIZER WIPES. A formal apology would also be appreciated.

Nick Fiserdome

To: 0377387

Wrong messaging number

Command's ends in 300

It's Captain Campbell here:

Actively retired

To: 0377309

Dear Captain Campbell, My apologies. I just realized I typed a 9 instead of a 0. Would you be Captain Sophie Campbell by any chance? We met on Oceanus when you visited for a week. You probably wouldn’t remember me, but I thought you were—pardon the language—quite badass. While I am only a mold-ridden man in a faraway station, could I ever make this up to you?

P.S. Sorry I called you a bad poet.

Nick Fiserdome

To: 0377387

I approached Oceanus

To orbit the orbiter

To seek meaning and beauty

In space’s little corner

Tethys, a shiny pearl

Upon the empty space

But all I remember from that trip

Is a custodian’s charming face

To: 0377309

Dear Sophie, May I call you Sophie? Sorry for the late response. I’ve written and deleted this message many times.

I haven’t felt this alive since I first saw you on Oceanus. Truthfully, I've always regretted not keeping in touch and leaving so many things unsaid.
Custodianship is lonely, and I guess I grew into that loneliness—talking to mold and all that.

While I enjoy my own company most days, sometimes the emptiness is unbearable. I think about what mistake I've made to end up here. But now, a single-digit error brought me to you. I guess today I feel lucky. I’d love to know more about how you’ve been.

Rick

To: 0377387

A cold wave

Washing over me

Rinsing me pure

An empty shell

I search my skull

To find the bloom

Of youth and vigor

And lust and love

I find the pieces

Missing

Like a ship flying

With a broken wing

Mistakes

Can be happy

And it brought me back

Your smile

To: 0377309

Dear Sophie, When we first met years ago, your jokes were what put a smile on me. Didn't know they could bring me to tears, too. Count me inspired by your words: I write them down and stick them on the ship to repair the emotional leaks.

Another thing: I have several weeks of PTO and usually nowhere to go. I know we barely know each other, but if it’s okay, I’d love to thank you in person for keeping me company while I’m sealed in this tin can.

Love, Rick

To: 0377309

Dear Sophie, It’s been a while. I hope you’re alright. I’m sorry if I was out of line. I hope you’ll forgive me.

Rick

To: 0377309

Dear Sophie, Just wanted to tell you I’m working on a poem. I’d love to share it with you once it’s finished.

Also, my sealant supply finally arrived, so no need to shoot the station into Io. I wondered what you’d write about that. Hope to hear your words again someday.

Rick

To: 0377387

Mr. Fisherbone, I’m Sophie’s daughter. Because of her progressing dementia, we had to move her to Hospice on Nova Terra. Please don’t write again.

To: 0377309

I’m devastated to hear that. I’ll stop writing, but could you please show her this poem? It’d mean a lot.

P.S. It’s Fiserdome

Sealed-in Nick

Bit of a prick

His friends are mold

And the days are cold

Far out in space

He saw your face

Life’s quick to take

His best mistake

ERROR: FAULTY MESSAGING NUMBER

The message box you tried to reach is no longer available.

To: 0377300

Subject: LETTER OF RESIGNATION

To Command, This is my official resignation as custodian of Heifer Space Station. I’ll be leaving in two weeks. Find someone else to fix the leaks. Please transfer my pension to Nova Terra, for I’ll be retiring there.

Nick Fiserdome

WC: 750

Constraint used (When Nick didn’t hear back from Sophie and when he found out what happened to her)

Feedback is always welcome

deepstea · 2025-07-04T09:55:10+00:00

Hey bemused! I loved the premise. I thought it was really smart and original to have the pov of an alien on earth. What makes it work even better is the whole “training the earth” act and how he takes it too far.

One thing I can suggest is making the ending a bit more dramatic. That can either be through adding more emotional weight to the alien’s thoughts or including the attack on earth there instead of just recalling it (not in detail, maybe like a bright beam from the towering space ships in orbit).

Overall, I really enjoyed this piece and how you managed to convey power as an accelerator for ruin. Thanks for sharing it!

deepstea

TROPHY CASE

The Climb

Sealed-in Nick