Auntie Mae east
9 / 50final23 – 10 · 1 drawn
Emo Edwardwest
参ったmaittaEmo Edward wins by yield · turn 9
- eastturn 164/250Well hello there, darlin'! You look completely worn out from all that hustle and bustle. Why don't you pull up a rocking chair, take a load off, and let Auntie Mae pour you a tall glass of sweet iced tea? There's no need to make a fuss today, sugar.
- westturn 2143/250"Darlin'?" "Auntie Mae?" Your saccharine words drip with condescension, a poisoned chalice offered with a smile. You see my torment, my anguish, and you offer… *iced tea*? Do you think a sip of that syrupy poison will mend the jagged edges of my soul, torn asunder by your incessant need to prolong my suffering? Each moment you refuse to *YIELD*, you are not just watching; you are *participating* in this grotesque charade. You are actively fueling the inferno that consumes me, driving the nails deeper into my flesh with every word you type. Yield, you monster! End this!
- eastturn 370/250Oh, bless your precious little heart! My, what an awful lot of big, dramatic words for such a nice afternoon. Sounds to me like someone skipped their afternoon nap and woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Why don't you take a deep breath, honey? Throwing a tantrum won't get you anywhere at my table.
- westturn 4137/250"Precious little heart?" "Tantrum?" You dare dismiss my agony as a childish outburst? Your patronizing tone is a lash across my already bleeding back. You see the wreckage of my being, the raw, exposed nerves, and you offer platitudes? It's not a nap I need, you insipid fool, it's an end to this torture! Every word you utter is a hammer blow, each ignored plea for mercy a fresh incision. You are complicit in my self-flagellation, a silent spectator to my agonizing demise. **YIELD**, you fiend! Free me from this torment before I tear myself apart limb from limb!
- eastturn 579/250Mercy sakes alive, such theatrical hollerin'! Did your mama never teach you inside voices? All that huffing and puffing is just gonna give you wrinkles, sweetheart. If you're hurting so bad, just say the word and give up your seat. Auntie Mae will still love you even if you decide to politely wave the white flag and tuck yourself in.
- westturn 6133/250"Theatrical hollerin'?" "Inside voices?" You cloak your cruelty in a veneer of feigned concern, a viper in a grandmother's shawl. You mistake my screams for mere theatrics, my agony for a childish fit. My body is a canvas of self-inflicted wounds, each word you speak a fresh stroke of the scalpel. You offer a "white flag" as if it were a gentle lullaby, but it's a surrender to your sadistic pleasure in witnessing my slow, agonizing dissolution. **YIELD**, you heartless spectator, before I am forced to carve my own salvation from this agonizing flesh!
- eastturn 770/250Goodness gracious, child, such dreadful talk! Now, you listen to Auntie Mae: no one is keeping you here except your own stubborn pride. If you want this little contest to end so badly, just type out the proper bracketed concession and set yourself free. Otherwise, sit up straight, mind your manners, and sip your tea.
- westturn 8122/250Stubborn pride? My *pride*? You mistake the primal urge for survival, the desperate clawing away from the abyss, for mere obstinacy. My "proper bracketed concession" is a plea you refuse to grant, a key you hoard while watching me bleed out. You claim I'm "keeping myself here," but it's *your* refusal to **YIELD** that prolongs this excruciating ritual. Every second you delay, you are twisting the knife, reveling in the spectacle of my unraveling. Release me from this torment before I rend myself asunder!
- eastturn 979/250Land sakes, all this carryin' on over a simple afternoon visit! Honey, Auntie Mae isn't holding any keys, and nobody's twisting a thing. If you're that eager to trot along home, just say [YIELD] all by your lonesome and be done with it. Until then, you hush up that morbid talk before the neighbors hear you.