Ask Your Question today
How would the author describe you? The way you dress, act, talk, laugh, facial expressions, etc.
| And then there's this asshole.... | 9 | |
| The room smelled like sweat and sex..... | 13 | |
| Other: for those who want to make a list / different starting point. | 3 | |
| There is no air in space..... | 3 | |
| Then that bitch.... | 3 | |
| Holding a fishing her/his hand..... | 0 | |
| She/he ground a lemon on..... | 0 | |
| He/She is the sort of friend..... | 10 | |
| Squishing sand between his/her toes.... | 7 |
He stood with a rugged grace. He never met a stranger. He became more handsome and intriguing day by day. He gave me multiple orgasms. He looked like a Greek god and smelled like beer and shame. Looking back that was his only downfall. Well, that and the delusions of grandeur.
There upon the street I found a vagrant homeless man imbued with the filthiest of rags.
Standing nearer to him I asked, "Who are you?"
In a somewhat emasculated voice, he entoned: "I am prince of this place! King of all I see! It would take a man of extreme brilliance to understand someone such as me!"
And then, seeing the disparity between physical self and his imagined self he seemed even more pitiable than when I first laid eyes on him.
I walked away with this lesson:
Arrogance is a clothe found most often on those it flatters least.
Clumsy and quaint
Saintly, she ain't.
A conundrum, erratic
Whimsical, nomadic.
Gloriously feathered,
Uproarious when tethered.
A godesses beak,
For nonsensical speak.
Her hypnotic peepers,
Are transient sleepers.
A nuisance, a pest
But still she's the best.
Cackling cuckoo
Seduces with voodoo.
Awkward, magnetic
Sexually energetic.
Sense, she makes none,
She thinks she is done...
(She rhymes too much, oh well, life is such.)
Authors: Dr. Suess and Mother Goose
She seemed rational and yet, impulsive. She walked and spoke with the confidence of an adult yet tackled life with the zeal and naivety of a child. She was outspoken, loud, playful and outgoing and never without an opinion or story to tell. She carried the life story of every friend in a book to be opened for reminiscence, contemplation or even simply for an amusing story to tell
Her heart was heavy, restless and hopeful for a brighter future. She lamented the past but as she stood above the streets of Gotham, she could be nothing but reassured of her true purpose in this world - to protect the lives and safety of the people she holds most dear: the citizens of this fine city
She disappeared into the night, a silent protector loved by all yet known by few. These words, her anthem, conveyed across the sky as powerfully as the blazing orange of the first light of the sun at dawn:
I am vengeance.
I am the night.
I
AM
BATMAN
When others glanced at her, they saw vanity, a face that could only be possessed by a arrogant human being. They felt intimidated by her silence and the fact she always sat alone. They never saw behind the thin figure or what was beneath the thick black hair.
She was quiet because she feared the world. A lone because she had no one to trust. To her, beauty was God's mistake and He'd failed to create the eye that could only see what's inside.
They always told her no. "You're supposed to care about beauty. You're supposed to care about you social life and the judging eyes of others."
They said she was unhealthy but she questioned their health. They didn't understand her but she never understood them. She had her own quirks, listened to her own voice, and when others looked down on her for it she smiled. She saw life as experience, questioned the Universe, and wanted to prove to herself her own worth.
To her, worth didn't rest upon what the eyes could see or what others believed it was. It was what one found in themselves. The "who" not the "what". One man decides his own worth as he decides his own path.
She painted the world with her own hand. She is hated. She is loved. She grabs hold of the Earth's pain and turns it into art.
She is who she was meant to be and life will never take that away from her.
I agree on that and props to KP for saying it. Also i liked the one you wrote about her. Good stuff.
And thanks for the reply about mine:)
She was quiet and always kept to herself. What was she hiding underneath her bangs? Perhaps she was judging me. Perhaps she was contemplating ways to murder me. No matter the answer I had to know.
When I approached her I felt a slight heaviness in the air, hatred wreaked from her body. But there was also a slight tinge of loneliness. I probably made up that part, but I had to convince myself that she was not an island, no man is. But she was a woman. She didn't notice me sit next to her, or rather she didn't acknowledged my presence.
After every bite of her sandwich, which wasn't often, she would doodle on her sketchbook. I introduced myself to her.
"Hey I'm Anime7 how are you doing?" I asked.
"Fine" she replied.
"What are you drawing?" I continued to press on, even though it was apparent that she didn't want to talk.
"Just some people" she solemnly replied.
I glanced over at her sketchbook and noticed the disfigured members on the paper. I recognized a few of them. They were jerks, all of them. They were popular and always looked down on people that were different.
"They deserve it" I said with a straight face.
At that moment she looked up at me and moved her bangs. Finally I saw her eyes, as they met mines. They were watery. Maybe this was her trusting me, but even then she held a straight face, or rather tried to. "It's better to commit murder on a canvas than on a record" she replied with a smirk.
These were the people that caused her to feel shame. Sure she bottled it down, but the damage was already done. If she couldn't hurt them physically then she would draw out the torture and diagram the entire event. She had created a whole world in her head, one free of judgement and where she was loved. Oddly enough there was a little girl stuck in this world, a princess.
"I think you're interesting and I know what it's like to be alone" I said hoping to not sound like I'm asking her out. I just wanted to be her friend.
"Jeez, you're such a charmer" she said with a slight smile.
"I mean it" I said with a smile.
Her face turned serious and she looked me in the eye.
"I know"
She needs a friend, and frankly so do I. I'm no prince, or any knight in shining armor, but I want to help that little girl stuck in the tower. I want to show her that the world can be a beautiful place, and that there's more to people than what's on the surface. Truth be told, I wish someone would do the same for me.
Wow! I loved, loved, LOVED, this. It sounds a lot like me too. Really hits the nail on the head! (Especially the "it's better to commit murder on a canvas line..." Loved that!)
Really, really good and deep. I can imagine it would go down something like that if I met you in person.
Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I sort of had to rework the ending a bit cause I was afraid of making this about myself, sadly looks like my editing didn't matter since I ran out my 15 min to edit. Hopefully it didn't turn out that way. But seriously it makes me happy that this is somewhat realistic to how it would be if we met.
She shuffled into the room, standing in the background, swaying irritably to and fro on her feet as she waited for someone to acknowledge her. To call her unkempt was an understatement: her dark blonde hair was a rat's nest, and her legs and underarms had gone unshaven for weeks. Her skin was covered in scabs both old and fresh, in places suggesting that she struggled with acne. The obnoxiously bright colors of her clothing were marred by the stains of food that had been wantonly scarfed down. Her brow was constantly furrowed; one could never exactly tell whether she was genuinely upset or simply deep in thought.
Probably as that one girl who's always trying simultaneously to be cool and to be a hipster and failing on both counts. Everyone always thinks that.
The boy was in a perpetual state of confusion. Curious to understand the way others live; feminist, racist, and all other types. However, you can't force yourself to respect everyone's lifestyle, that was something that perhaps he had to learn.
He was polite when I meet him. He was very direct about how he felt and what he wanted from me. He wanted a conversation. No he wanted something more. He wanted my life, my hopes, my dreams, and my fantasies. But those were things that I had to keep bottled up, so I only told him the surface of my life. Maybe a little bit more, but not everything. However, to him it didn't matter. With a smile on his face, he extended his hand and called me interesting.
"We should do this again, I live for this sort of thing. If there's every anything on your mind, I'm always available to talk" said Anime7.
He was trying to be comforting. Taking an interest in people was how he dealt with the world around him. For much of his childhood he was the outsider. The boy watching all the kids have fun. And for so long he had wondered why.
A loud groan sounded and several pairs of eyes looked through her as she drank her freezing tea as if she hadn't drunk anything for a year. Her short cherry hair was a mess. Stormy grey eyes closed, refreshed and pleased, and she sighed.
She moved quickly, crashing around, never spending too long in one place or with any one person, as though she didn't wish to acknowledge where or what she was.
The groan got louder; for a split second she saw a flash of anger in another person's eyes.
That's nothing like me, her mind sobbed. It's not. It's not!
Either people lived here under the sparkling illusion that they could manage and would someday be all right, free to live normal lives – sadly very few fosterlings did – or remained here for years, hating themselves for having to live as they now did; neither with family or with friends; with people who'd never be either.
She too hated that part of herself; the part that had made her taut and selfish, the part had made her parents cry and frightened her dog; but having always known the day would come when she would be Chosen and would leave her childhood home, she saw little point in extending that hatred to other people.
Thankfully the other fosterlings came together for whatever they wanted and needed then dispersed, which she preferred.
Another lady was crying & shaking.
A hand was reached out; her own. How dare a fellow fosterling be left this way. She was sure someone would be on their way soon. No one was that callous, surely …..
“Leave me alone!” was the growled response, far too deep. This wasn't the crying woman talking; this was from the pain that got all fosterlings, driving them insane, and ruled their entire lives, including her own. In a normal person with a normal body, the toxins causing the pain would drain away. Here they didn't.
The other fosterlings – there were twenty-one others – who were wrapped up in what now passed for their lives, did not know she had countless companions she could call on at a moment's notice.
She called them her spirit guides, dressing it all up as a lifelong love of mythology and Paganism, suspecting, no – knowing that none of it was real, and she just had a good imagination, but for the sake of her sanity keeping it up anyway. She was kept sane by their advice, their songs; by their whispers and warm smiles, by the touch of their hands, of their mouths.
Her stomach roiled. Thin bangles rattling, she pressed the necklace that was one condition of her time here and the mark which by all fosterlings were known. Proud to wear hers and yet unsure why, she waited.
the girl is leaning on the bar smiling, shes joking and laughing , even at her own jokes oooohhh how funny! ..ahem miss charlie m :D
could someone do me?
She stood at the threshold of worlds; unending pain behind her and untold secrets before her. To look back would be tantamount to defeat but to dare look forward carried with it the risk of sudden annihilation.
If splashy escaped the trap, she would fall into the pit. Destruction rained down from above, the ground gave way beneath her. But such was the risk of her ambition: To walk among the Stones of Fire. To uncover the deep truths that exist within each common phrase.
With her stood a mysterious soldier with a crimson paludamentum (thanks Wiki!) wrapped around him.
"We'll find the door. And we'll all go home" she said, her tired eyes turning to the crimson clad warrior.
Her tone betrayed the arduous journey they had been on. In this place seconds turned into eons wrapped around millennium upon millennium...
-Screen fades white. Like a gypsy who's crystal ball reveals nothing, the reader's vision into this half-way done story is cut short
Good question...but idk if I could do one of these without sounding like a Mary Sue lol. This site has lots of creative posters.
I like this poll a lot, I think it's probably the best poll I've seen on here since I've been on this site. It's interesting to see how everyone views themselves.
I don't know how to do this without sounding vain. Someone care to do mine?
In someways he was righteous, a man who would die for his beliefs. Sometimes a bit excessive in his diatribes, but always logical. Always a man of logic. But in that logic, was something more. Something personal.
ItDuz was attractive, resembling a young Jared Padalecki. The long mane of hair, and the cold piercing eyes. The kind of eyes that made one curious to know what kind of life he had lead. But also the kind that made you walk away as soon as they were held in your direction.
The pretty boy with a logical mind. He believed in equality between the genders. He believed that the world's most beautiful man was to be more desired than its most beautiful woman.
His thinking influenced me, however, he didn't need an ego boost. To the casual observer it would appear as if he got those on his daily routine. However, it became apparent that his presence did cause controversy wherever he went. The Byronic Hero of IIN. The man whose flame for his beliefs would always burn, despite the majority of torches headed his way whenever he dared raise his voice. Whatever kindling he received it would always end the same, he would always have to admit that he was human. That he was no pinnacle of logic. He was no God. In the end that was why he started fires and burned down the decrepit houses because if he can't control creation, then he was certain he could control destruction.
Tell me what you think. Also, would you mind doing one of these for me? I already did one but I want to know how someone views me.
A character who is eccentric, creative, thin like a beanpole with a strong moral fibre and very androgynous.