Blood Studios: Literature Division - CLOSED

Fan-fiction, short stories, screenplays, poems -- anything text-based really belongs here.

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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Blood Lord » Thu Sep 26, 2013 7:24 pm

This is my entry for the Literature Contest.

I wanted to try something new, something different that I haven't done before. So the take on this is a suspense/horror theme. I've tested a few things out with this that I've heard help create suspense and drama, and really have no idea how to write horror... But anyways, comments and critiques are welcome! or are they?

Click

You're running through the darkened woods.

Click, clack

It's behind you. You know it is. You can hear it- feel it as it keeps the pace with you.

Click, clack

You run faster, your mind screaming at you to go as fast as possible. To escape, to live.

Click, clack

It already got the others. Your family and loved ones. They no longer exist on this side, but await with open arms for you to join them. They are neither dead nor alive, but trapped hopelessly in-between. It has them, took them.

Tears form in your eyes as the memory of their faces flash in your mind.

Click, clack

It's gaining on you.

Click, clack

You trip over a tree root and slam into the ground. Your hands come up protectively around your face.

Nothing.

You stand up and look around the clearing.

But there's nothing there.

Click, clack.

You spin around and see it standing there, looking at you with large empty black eyes. You freeze as you see it. It doesn't move, except for its foot as it taps against the stone.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.


Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to run- to flee. But your body refuses to move as the creature continues to look at you.

A mouth starts to form on its blank face. You can see the hundreds of needle like teeth lining its mouth. The eyes no longer look empty, but full of purpose and hunger.

It leaps at you! You stumble back, falling to the ground, its teeth inches from your flesh-






You wake up in your bed.

The pillow is damp from your sweat, you can feel your heart racing. Sitting up, you examine the room. The alarm clock reads 2:43 am in its neon green coloring. The desk remains normal, chair in place, everything is exactly as you left it when you went to bed.

It was a dream, a simple dream-

Click, clack.

The noise causes you to jump, memories of your nightmare far too recent to let a noise like that go unnoticed. Steeling yourself, you get out of your warm bed and look around. Nothing. Crossing the room, you open your door, your heart feels like it's in your throat as you reach out for the door handle. turning it, you brace yourself for- nothing. There's nothing in the hallway, its abandoned and still the same as when you last saw it.

Turning around, you see the culprit and let out a light laugh of relief. The blinds of the window had been knocking against the window frame in the wind. You watch as a sudden gust catches the blinds for a moment, drops them - click - pushes them a little bit again, and then drops them a final time - clack.

It would seem as if the entire time, your dreams were being influenced by the wind. You cross the room and fix the window and blind, making sure that it doesn't dance anymore to ruin your rest.

As you finish your task, you hear a unmistakable sound behind you.


Click, clack

Click, clack

Click...

Clack...
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Sigment » Thu Sep 26, 2013 7:26 pm

Ooooh, spooky. Me likes.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Tuor » Thu Sep 26, 2013 7:29 pm

Super similar to mine, so I probably won't bother now, haha
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Tenshi Nova » Thu Sep 26, 2013 8:55 pm

The entire time I couldn't get the sounds of mouse clicking out of my head. xD
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby ari-6 » Thu Sep 26, 2013 9:40 pm

I really like this. I kept picturing the "IT" as Slenderman. I was expecting an ending like "Wait a minute, I don't remember leaving the window ope-AAAHHHHHHHHHHggggggg!"
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Blood Lord » Fri Sep 27, 2013 12:57 pm

Thanks guys.

I had a joke version of this that at the point where you turn around and see it in your "dream", instead of continuing it would end suddenly with "then you two start dancing and it was awesome and the end."
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Thy Obsessive Freak » Fri Sep 27, 2013 6:22 pm

Dang! Feel so pawned here (Is that how you spell it), sorry but clever use of words, awesome suspense and great atmosphere. (Why can't I be good at suspense :'( ). Awesome work Bloodlord (Almost called you Bleedman there... Think I have a few times...)
Anyone want ta take look at my own comic?

http://walrusm3.deviantart.com/

The art's quite modest, but I'm told the story's fun.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby CTCFirebird » Sat Sep 28, 2013 5:23 am

With the click clacks, I'm thinking Paranormal Activity haha

Though, I'd probably put an emdash here: 'It has them, took them.' To this: 'It has them - took them.'
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Blood Lord » Sun Sep 29, 2013 11:18 am

Thy_Obsessive_Freak wrote:Dang! Feel so pawned here (Is that how you spell it), sorry but clever use of words, awesome suspense and great atmosphere. (Why can't I be good at suspense :'( ). Awesome work Bloodlord (Almost called you Bleedman there... Think I have a few times...)

Thank you. And how do you feel pawned?

CTCFirebird wrote:With the click clacks, I'm thinking Paranormal Activity haha

I probably should have picked something better than "click clack" (the rough draft had "click clock"), but I couldn't find any other way to write the noise down. Writing noises was more annoying than I thought.

CTCFirebird wrote:Though, I'd probably put an emdash here: 'It has them, took them.' To this: 'It has them - took them.'

Hmm, I can see that.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Thy Obsessive Freak » Sun Sep 29, 2013 12:43 pm

Blood Lord wrote:
Thy_Obsessive_Freak wrote:Dang! Feel so pawned here (Is that how you spell it), sorry but clever use of words, awesome suspense and great atmosphere. (Why can't I be good at suspense :'( ). Awesome work Bloodlord (Almost called you Bleedman there... Think I have a few times...)

Thank you. And how do you feel pawned?
.


I have tried for so very long to do suspense in my writing, I guess it's a weakness of mine (Some people claim I can, but it's not the suspense I want in my stories), neither can I match that usage of words like the click clack, it's timing and lack of feeling repetitive after so many uses... Just can't match that.
Anyone want ta take look at my own comic?

http://walrusm3.deviantart.com/

The art's quite modest, but I'm told the story's fun.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Tenshi Nova » Sun Sep 29, 2013 1:00 pm

Pwn'd not Pawned.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Sigment » Sun Sep 29, 2013 1:01 pm

Some stupid term gamers came up with. It's like being "owned" but worse, or some shit like that.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division

Postby Blood Lord » Wed Oct 30, 2013 12:07 am

Ladies and Gentlemen, its been nearly ten months, but at last, I can update Legions of the Empire and finish the prologue, thank God.

I have no excuse other than procrastination.

I would like to thank Sigment Kurosai who help me with this update by doing some excellent proof reading. As usual, comments, critics, words to continue to inflate my large ego (:3), and other things are welcomed. so enjoy, and I'll get better at this "updating thing".
===================================================================



Legions of the Empire: Rising Thunder
Prologue: Investigation (Part Two: Interrogatus)


The long hallway felt more like a descent into hell than a path to the interrogation rooms. It was dimly lit from the few dirty bulbs that hung from the ceiling. The filthy tan walls and simple uneven concrete floor were wet, as if the inside had been flooded and drained. The ceiling was unfinished as bare pipes and conducts weaved their way through the hall.

It was… demoralizing, to say the least. The sight would quicken the heart rate and despair would slowly start to sink its teeth into you. Hope would begin to vanish as you begin to realize that should death come and visit you in this place, no one would ever know.

Marris wasn’t fooled though. The entire thing was one large deception. The entire facility wouldn’t be designed like this. That was just too messy... too annoying. It was just the hallway and the interrogation rooms that generated this drama. The entire point was to have an effect on the prisoners and break them of their will.

The group stopped at what seemed to be a blank wall. but after a series of taps by the colonel, it flew open to reveal a observation room. Marris stepped into the darkened room, followed by the other two. The observation room was intentionally darkened to keep the one way mirror working on the other side. Those already there did a double take when Marris entered, but he paid them little attention as he looked through the glass and into the interrogation room.

The room was pretty bare, much like the path that led them there, save for the stainless steel table in the middle of the room. A interrogator sat on one side of the table comfortably sipping on some coffee while lazily reading through something. On the other side of the table though, two men were finishing beating some poor soul into the ground. The larger of the two black uniformed men pulled the prisoner up from the ground, his body still tied to the chair.

Marris stared at the man for a moment. He looked nothing like the man he'd seen a few weeks ago. His usual well combed hair was a mess and he could see dried blood still clinging to his face. It was remarkable to Marris that they had decided to leave him with his armor on instead of removing it, but he quickly saw why.

What was once the white uniform of the Legionaries, now looked like a smashed can. The armor plates had received so much damage that some sections were warped to the point that it would restrict movement. It was heavily scuffed and dented, and he could make out a few bullet hole marks, even a large crack and some burn marks as well. Some of the sections in between the plates oozed blood, biofoam, and even some of the gelatin under layer that protected the body from impacts.

Put simply, he was still wearing it because they couldn't get it off.

"Has he said anything?" asked the Undead Lord, watching the beating continue.

"Not really, sir," replied one of the techs who had been watching the situation. "He's claiming that he was framed, but when we asked for details, he said that he'll only talk to you."

The Colonel's head snapped around to face the tech when he had said this, and Marris quickly followed suit. He was surprised; off guard. Things like that didn't happen to him often.

"He knew I'd come... interesting," replied Marris. "Colonel, dismiss everyone. I want some time alone with this man."

The Colonel snapped a quick salute and began ordering people out of the room. A tech slipped into the interrogation room and motioned to the seated man. He called to the other two to stop beating the man, and gestured out of the room. Marris waited a full ten minutes after they had left before he moved towards the door that led into the room.

The prisoner's head shot up as soon as the door creaked open. As soon as he saw Marris, relief flooded his face as he slouched back into the chair. Marris gave him a small smile in return as he crossed the room.

"I am so glad to see you, sir.", said the trooper.

"You look like hell, Lieutenant." The Undead Lord set his briefcase on the table and popped it open. "I hear you've had a few interesting weeks."

"Lord Marris, please, you have to believe me. I'm being framed. My team is being framed.", begged the Lieutenant.

"Framed, you say?" Marris dug around in the briefcase and pulled out a few data pads. He clicked the first one on and scanned through it. "I have a full investigation report that says otherwise."

"It's not true."

"So the report is false?"

"No sir, the facts of the report are wrong. We were made to look like we were going against orders."

Marris sighed and adjusted himself in the chair. "I didn't come here to hear you out."

The trooper stared at him for a minute, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Lieutenant, let me make this clear. A ruling has already been made. Your team is being dishonorably discharged for their actions, and you have been sentenced to death." The Lieutenant stared back at him mouth hanging open. Marris waited a few seconds to see if he would say anything before continuing. "Your family is also being held responsible for this, since they raised you. Fines, mostly."

"Then... why did you come?" interrupted the trooper. "Why come all this way unless y-you're..." his face paled as the realization hit.

"...The Executioner.", finished Marris as he sat back and folded his hands. "This is a matter that the Empire wants resolved quickly. A Legionnaire team going AWOL, killing troops, and inciting a planet to rebel? Not the message we want being sent."

He watched the trooper slump back into the chair, head hung low. "But I'm innocent," he stammered, voice thick with emotion. "Lord Marris, please, I'll do anything. I-I have evidence showing that this is a-a conspiracy!"

Marris just shook his head at the trooper's attempts. "I want to believe you, Lieutenant. But I can't overturn this, at least not in a way that lets you walk out of this room alive."

The Undead Lord reached into his briefcase and pulled out a flintlock style pistol. It was a beautiful weapon, one that Marris favored very dearly. The handle and much of the body was made out of the finest oak that money could buy, and was expertly overlaid with bright gold pieces that had been forged in a series of curves to give it a sense of elegance and class. Marris cocked the hammer back and laid it on the table. The Lieutenant stared at the weapon and then back up at the Undead Lord.

"The Emperor and the Hierarch hold your family in high esteem," explained Marris. "They are willing to spare your family from your actions... if you carry out the sentencing."

"They... want me commit suicide...?"

"I believe the technical term is Harakiri, but putting it bluntly, yes. Do it, and your family is free of your stain."

The trooper shook his head. "No, I-I won't, I can't. I d-didn't do anything. This isn't what happened!"

Marris let out a breath and drummed his fingers on the table. He needed to be careful on his next words. More importantly, he needed to know what this trooper knew. "I'll tell you what, Lieutenant, you've impressed me. You're a hell of a soldier and respected by the men you serve around with. I'll give you a chance. I want to hear from you, what happened and what you've found out. If I think it's good enough, I'll see what I can do with the Emperor and the Hierarch."

That got the trooper's attention. "Where do you want me to start?"

Marris picked up the data pad and scrolled through as a familiar grin crept across his face. "Let's see. How about the Siege on New Hope?"
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: Legions Update (10/29/13)

Postby Sigment » Wed Oct 30, 2013 4:04 am

Always happy to help, Blood. w00t
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: Legions Update (10/29/13)

Postby Blood Lord » Mon Nov 11, 2013 3:03 pm

bwhahaha. Yes, soon, soon a new story will be out. Just sent it over to my pre-reader, as soon as he is done, it will be up.

Althought I do have to say that the audience is different from what I usually write and some of you might not like it.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: Legions Update (10/29/13)

Postby Blood Lord » Tue Nov 12, 2013 4:06 pm

M'kay. My story is up, at least the first chapter is. the Pre-reading process took an adventure, but all has been ironed out.

It's new writing for me because I feel like I can't do comedy very well. But I loved the world this guy made with some of his stories while I was prereading for him. I asked permission to do a story in there, and not only did he say yes, but the things I write about will become canon for future stories.

So here it is, and its MLP, btw.
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/145133/ ... h-birthday

EDIT: Thy_Obsessive_Freak, I think you will like it.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: FiMFiction Release

Postby Blood Lord » Tue Dec 10, 2013 12:55 pm

And a bump.

Second Chapter for my story is out. Link is in the post above me. Feedback would be appreciated either there or here.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: FiMFiction Release

Postby Blood Lord » Sun Jan 05, 2014 2:36 pm

In Memoriam

The clock ticks loudly as I sit by the now empty fireplace, the heat long since vacated the area. The servants and maids having been dismissed earlier this evening, and any relatives or friends I might call upon this hour of night are away. Thus I sit alone in the manor fit for my position of Lord, content with my thoughts as I reflect on circumstances that lead me here.

But I'm not as alone as it would seem.

Years ago I arose and become one of the most respect and notable individuals of this age. Gaining a reputation for being swift, focused, and ruthless in the realm of politics and debate. My colleagues respected me. Those beneath me feared me. Those above me valued me. Of course, I did not escape without making enemies. There were many and each one of them opposed me at their own appointed times. Each one crushed and broken by my hand. How dare they raise their voice to me? How dare they think themselves equal, and yet so far away from the ideal? How dare they oppose the power and enterprise that I have set up and created?

For am I not vengeance made plain? Am I not the very avatar of the God they so trembled and bowed before their altars? I am quick, though not silent. I lash out with my tongue, the entity of my rage focused on them until they are like a ship beaten against the rocks during a summer storm. Another example, crucified for all to know what happens when the Lord is crossed.

My friends are gloriously rewarded for their vigil in the sights of my victories for the world and against those that thought ill of me. Indeed, I treat those well that make forth the acceptance and ally themselves with one such as I. Yet...

I am not alone.

There is a dullness, an ache in my heart. So small and... disjointed from me. In the beginning I thought nothing of it. For what man's heart does not ache on occasion? Filled with regrets and dissatisfaction.

So I continue on, never realizing that my passions were my ultimate undoing. Each victory brought a reward with it that could never satisfy the hunger I felt. that void in my heart only grew with each passing day as I bid my time. I thought that surely the next one must bring the wealth and satisfaction I felt. Yet it did not. Even when the King saw it fit to give me these lands and responsibilities, still, that feeling of fullness achieved in purpose evaded me.

Interest is lost, commitment is broken, and I stand as the lonely ruler I have become.

My anger flares as I think of these things and soon I find that I must walk to ease the tension built in my chest. I leave my chair and grab my drink. My footsteps echo on the stone floor as I wander the empty halls aimlessly and without purpose. I've been here before, this dark road leading to an end. An end that I am determined never to reach, but know full well that the peace I seek lies on the other side. A price I am too unwilling to pay.

I am alone.

I pause at a window and look out into the darkness of the night, falling deeper into the depression I have made. It's starting to rain, just slightly as it always does this time of year. My body, so full of hate, yet my soul is empty. I recall my life, thinking again on deeds I've done, people I've won, and those I've caused to be shun. Yet to no one, can I let into my darkness. A mask I always wear to hide my feelings, my evil I know it won't allow me to parade my feelings on and on. I confide with no man, nor woman or child my innermost thoughts.

This is unbecoming of me, I think to myself. As a leader must not feel, but be strong.

Yet I am weakened. A leader without a will.

Alone

I know where I stand in this home, the mausoleum of my life. My hand brushes along the smooth wood and cold steel of the ancient firearm. It has been in my family for generations. I pick it up and run my hand alongside the engravings and bindings. Its a old flintlock pistol, used by my great grandfather in the War. We've told people that it no longer works, just a decorative item.

But they don't know the truth.

I cock the hammer back and take one last look out the window over the kingdom I have made, tears gathering in my eyes as I wonder how it came to this. Wondering how all my experience and wisdom lead me to this point. Wondering how all my efforts and decisions turned me into this person. How I became a prisoner of my own greed.

I am not alone.

I hear the soft crunch of carpet behind me and I know he's here. I've been waiting, you see, for him for quite sometime. I knew this could not last and that eventually, he would be sent to find me. We knew each other, I suppose, but that would have been in a different life time. We might have been good friends, or simply acquaintances, but that doesn't matter now. Not much really does.

In life, when we look back and see the legacy we leave behind, what will it say about the man or woman who lived their course? Will we see the kind acts we have done for others; the charities and generosity we have give to others in their time of need? Will we see the laughter and joy spent in the company of those we care for? Or will we see something darker and meaningless; the piles of wealth we've horded for our own, the lusts and desires of the appetite of man, our own ego and arrogance. Will we know life from the highest of mountain peaks, or the depths of the bottle.

He asks me if I am ready, to which I simply nod.

***

A gunshot is heard in the night.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: In Memoriam

Postby Blood Lord » Fri Jan 10, 2014 9:53 pm

Ok FINE. Since no rsponse was given that piece of work, I'll go back to something else.

I have a brand new chapter of my MLP fanfiction story called "Empress Rarity's 250th Birthday" for those who enjoyed the last few chapters.

Please read it and leave your comments about it here or there. I am looking to get better so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Tuor » Fri Jan 10, 2014 10:08 pm

Original work rarely gets much love on here. I thought that piece was well done, BL. I liked how you ended it
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Blood Lord » Fri Jan 10, 2014 10:58 pm

Yeah, ain't that the truth. Thank you, Tuor.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Birdofterror » Fri Jan 10, 2014 11:39 pm

I wasn't aware you were doing this for the praise, but don't take me the wrong way-

The amount of comments in your thread rival mine, and mine has been going on for years, so comparing your story to mine; you got it. Not counting Talisman which was locked, my thread has been going on in the literature forum longer than any other. Should probably go about taking that at face value, no?

I read your part, but as I've stated in multiple threads complaining about the same factor, (Lack of comments) I state that even though I read everything posted, which is easy enough due to the rarity of actual updates and my obscene amount of free time, I only really comment if the thread itself is severely lacking comments, the thread is new, the update had literary errors, or if I made a prior commitment to comment. Rarely do I ever comment in peoples' threads because they are good or well done. An exception I make would be for Millo's thread, because his story is based on shock value and comedy and I find that rather unique.

I'm only posting now because I want to explain why I haven't been commenting. I have been reading, and your story is good; don't let anything in this post make you think otherwise, it's just if I comment on every person's update, threads would get bogged down. I consider it polite to let threads continue. I wasn't aware you really wanted some comments. If you want, I can make more of an effort to post in your thread during the infrequent updates.
Tuor wrote:Original work rarely gets much love on here.
The Literature section itself gets very little love. Just about 100% of the comments in EVERYONE'S threads in the entire literature section are from 'other' writers. It's kind of a systemic problem that isn't limited to OC/Fanfiction.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Tuor » Fri Jan 10, 2014 11:48 pm

Fanfiction gets more attention.

Anyhow, of course people want feedback on there stuff, why would someone bother posting things if they didn't want other people to see it and comment on it?
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Birdofterror » Fri Jan 10, 2014 11:57 pm

I'm not going to pretend to speak for anyone else, but I'm HONESTLY doing this for the practice. I get such little traffic, praise, or comments on my story that doing it for those reasons wouldn't be worth it. I want to be a writer or something one day, so I'm just learning new literary practices and just keeping my fingers warmed up for when something "really" comes along. I never expected my story to garner what little attention it has now, and if it wasn't for Havoc, I probably would have ended it by now. :?

So, as this may sound like outright lying, I do "not" expect nor strive for praise when writing my story. It's great when it happens and it feels awesome, like tradewinds hitting a cross continental sea vessel... but it's not what I'm after. Practice for the future is what I'm after. Ah, but this is Blood's thread. You raised an interesting question, so we can take this to PMs if you want. The last thing I want to do is derail Blood's thread. :O
"It's such a fine line between clever and stupid."

The Chronometal Wars, a fan-fiction taking place in the PPGD Universe. Catastrophe is the only certainty.
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Re: Blood Studios Literature Division: ER 250th Update!

Postby Tuor » Sat Jan 11, 2014 12:00 am

What would we possibly discuss in PMs?

About why you feel the need to post your writing even though you don't care about people commenting on it?
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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