Dear WriterDear Writer,Dear Writer2 years ago in Letters More Like This
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of cru
How My Chemical Romance Saved My LifeHow My Chemical Romance Saved My Life3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
And that was that, I guess The pills weren't working, and so there wasn't anything left to do except put that big old kitchen knife to her throat. Or fly off the top of that big bank building downtown. Or take then entire bottle of those lovely little pills that were supposed to make everything better.
I slunk across the floor of the house, silent at three in the morning, and unmoving under the silver moonlight except for me, trudging along with the bottle of pills in my hands. I laughed a little at the irony.
These pills this medication was supposed to make my life brighter and take away the depression and pain. They hadn't done their job, so they were being commissioned by me to perform one final fling. A contract kill that'd relieve the pain permanently. Seemed about right, to end a futile life that I was tired of living. I'm a fish in a barrel anyways; waiting to be picked out by the stronger,
DragonsThe dragons just kept getting cuter.Dragons2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I'd meant them to be scary, with snakelike heads and pearly fangs, but as my fingers gained more practice the dragons they shaped became younger and more innocent, their wings tiny and their eyes wide. Dull spikes lined their heads and tails, not yet sharpened by age. They lay on their bellies or sat up and watched with good-natured curiosity. They were friendly. They were sweet.
They were flawed, and there were a lot of them. I experimented with color and pose, sculpting the way others would turn a stress ball. Every morning I baked the newcomers in my oven, and within a week my desk was overrun. Rows of dragons pressed against my laptop from all sides. Some I enjoyed looking at. Others were a reminder of some mistake I'd made. Putting the horns on before the eyes. Making the legs too thin so it tilted drunkenly while baking. Not realizing that some clay changes color as it solidifies.
What to do with them all? I couldn't keep them even if I'd want
Anyone else have this problem?11:00pm, just out of the shower, dry off, check email, turn off lights . OH GOD WHAT'S THAT!!!! *panicked freeze* Oh, it's just my desk chair. It looks very menacing in the dark. Fuck you, desk chair. *Kick menacing, shadowy desk chair, start peeling back the bed sheets, get more and more afraid every second I'm not buried under the covers, don't care if it's too hot, must get under magical blanket shield. Build pillow fortress around me to keep out the monsters* What's that? What is that!? WHAT IS THAT!? OH GOD IT'S MOVING!!!! because it's my own foot. Derp. Get a grip Bobbie Jean, you're an adult for fuck's sake. There is nothing to be afraid of. *Make sure feet are tucked in anyway. ~brrsshhh~ WHAT WAS THAT NOISE!?!?! *panic-freeze* ~brrssshhhh~ hide under covers* OH GOD SOMETHING IS TOUCHING ME!!! SOMETHING IS TOUCHING ME!!! *flail-panic, catapults family cat across the room* .Sorry, Bilbo. *Try not to think of scary things*Anyone else have this problem?3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
10 minutes later
Damn that sunDamn that sun9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You may think the sun is all good, but I beg the differ.
I say damn that sun!
It was a plain, regular morning for me.
Woke up, drank some coffee, a latte.
Read in the newspaper of the disaster in some third world country, the murder in a local club, some terrorist bombing and a few killed nothing much. I was beginning to feel pressed with time, and so I ran out to the car, when the strong sun outside caught me by surprise. I was blinded for a second, when I bumped into the elderly man walking the street.
I couldn't apologize more, when he fell down, probably breaking some ribs on the sidewalk, just outside my home.
Damn that sun.
I would have stayed, to see he is Ok, or even called an ambulance from my cell phone, but I was late for work. It's a silly excuse, but it was the sun fault.
So I was driving with the damn sun in my eyes, cursing that ball of fire to the best of my knowledge, when I came to the junction of streets I had to cross, to get into my office parking. It was the
the things they should have told ussee, no one really warns us about growing up.the things they should have told us2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
they leave out things like heartbreak and gossip and broken people you could have saved but didn't.
it is this: the girl who holds her wrists and sits alone and tells me no child should ever grow up being afraid of someone who should love them. Her eyes are fierce, and something inside me is screaming but the clock ticks and the moment is past. i pretend i can't hear the pieces of her shatter as they hit the floor.
the next time we speak there are new shadows beneath her eyes and her shoulders hunch as if somehow she could fold into herself and disappear. maybe it would be better for us both if she did. but she doesn't. she can't and i can't and outside the sky is robins egg blue but inside a storm is brewing and the hallways smell of regret.
then, she is gone.
murmurs, rumors follow in her wake like dark ripples over stormy water.
she is gone, lost, taken, stolen, dead. in the halls, her name is whispered, softly, fervently, like a
How to Make a VampireVampire lore spans many, many years back into the past and they still remain popular today as one of the most recognized and exalted horror icons in the monster world of fiction. Yet despite having many different variations the world over, some parts have either been watered down or completely written out for today's modern audience. Maybe you want to share in the stable, ever-growing fangirl or fanboy-powered market of vampire literature? Well, look no further. Here are some tips to help get you started:How to Make a Vampire4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
1. Beauty and the Beast Despite there being years and years of pre-existing exotic vampire folklore from all over the world, it really has only dwindled down to two types that actually sell in this day and age. Either: A) Smoking hot undead vampires that want to sex you or B) Incredibly violent gore-loving animals that want to kill everything.
How does one come down to choosing?
Well, just try and figure out what kind of audience you're going to pander to. The mai
Twilight-Uncensored Ch.1ReviewTwilight-Uncensored Ch.1Review4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Review of Chapter One
By Stephenie Meyer
Years have gone since I've first run into a little thing called Twilight and now I've come to the part of the getting over it and letting kids have their fun, but in all this I've decided to trudge through this pile of shit and actually reread it for the first time since I took an exacto knife and cut a hole out of my only -stolen- copy.
Please note that I'm doing this not only for my own closure, but for your entertainment. I am reading this. I am not enjoying it, but I also want to lay to rest every beef I have with Twilight. [Though just the first book, the others can rot in hell.]
Lastly, I'll probably be dropping a lot of F-bombs and various other angry letter bombs. Deal with it.
Now, on with the horror fest, where we start with the preface.
As plain as you can possibly get, the preface of Twilight says nothing while saying a whole god forsaken paragraph. The tone of the paragraph honestly reminds me of w
you can't make them love you.He is beautiful, new, unexplored. He has wanted to kiss her ever since they met one week ago and fell prey to helpless chemistry.you can't make them love you.6 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Dont, she says, moving her hands in a subconscious yes pattern along his arm as he rubs his cheek against hers. You dont even know my favourite colour. The wind cuts through her thin jacket, and his chest is so warm.
Red, he guesses, improbably correct. His ears are cold.
And how many dogs do I have?
Two, he says, and she laughs wildly at his luck as he nuzzles her neck.
Im trying to save you, she tells him, pushing fruitlessly against his broad shoulders. So you dont wa
100 Theme Challenge100 theme challenge100 Theme Challenge3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
1. Twisted Identity
4. Heroes and Zeroes
5. Loser Like Me
11. Eternity With You
13. Lullaby and Goodnight
14. Broken Record
19. Double or Nothing
20. To The End
23. Dying Light
24. Playing God
25. Spiders web
32. Toying with Fate
33. So Pretty
36. Off With Their Heads
37. In Wonderland
38. Ravens and Writing Desks
39. Doctors Orders
40. Don't See
41. Don't Speak
42. Don't Hear
46. Creeping Your Way
47. Below The Belt
48. Bite Me
49. Do You Want To Be Me?
50. When I Grow Up
51. Call My Name
55. Kings and Queens
57. Danger Ahead
59. Devil In Disguise
60. Fallen Down
61. Something in the Air
63. Don't Birds Eat Bugs?
How to Sleep and Never Wake UpThe year they discovered my best friend, twenty years old and silent under the heap of her wrecked car, I learned one can sleep forever and never wake up.How to Sleep and Never Wake Up3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
That year, her sister, only seventeen, ate magic mushrooms and lost her mind and her brother, fourteen, started running and stopped eating and I didn't eat magic mushrooms but lost my mind anyway as everyone watched my skin, too white to be real, disintegrate before their eyes.
That year I flew to Colorado to see an urn surrounded by pointe shoes. It reminded me more of a wastebasket than the last I would see of the girl who shared my soul. Her sister ran naked through the street a few days later after ingesting a certain fungus at her school's homecoming dance. Most say it was the drugs. Maybe, I said. But I knew exactly what it was. Her brother started walking with his feet turned out, a remnant of his ballerina sister instilled in him. I ripped the flesh from my arms, hoping to find her somewhere underneath my fingernails until a
Acceptance .::France::."Why don't you ever stop drawing that crap, [Name]?" You gritted your teeth discretely, hoping that the people crowded around you would go away.Acceptance .::France::.3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"Yeah, I don't see the point in drawing aminee." You clenched your fists tightly at the mispronunciation of 'anime'.
"You're such a loser, [Name]!" Another girl laughed before the three of them left to go to a close by restaurant. You fought back tears once again. This happened all the time in high school, soon following you into college.
'When will this ever stop?'
Nobody could accept you for your love of anime. Even if you would watch it on occasions only, you still were never accepted by anyone due to the fact that you never stop drawing anime, either. You heard laughter from the side of you. You sighed and ignored it, most likely because they were making fun of you. Of course, you got part of the conversation and almost wanted to rip their throats out.
"Did you hear she has a friend in Portugal?"
"Yeah, I heard that, too! Talks to h
You should date a guy who writesDate a guy who writes. Date a guy whose fingers are stained with ink, whose pockets are filled with pens, and whose eyes smile and dance with curiosity. Date a guy who notices things like the colour of your hair and the way you have your coffee, not because he has to, but just because it’s a habit of his to notice things. Date a guy who can barely get around a computer, but is expert with his word processor. It doesn’t matter; he prefers pen and paper anyway.You should date a guy who writes1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Find a guy who writes. You’ll find him just outside a library. He’ll like the idea of being outside, on the verge of a thousand worlds, a few steps away. He’ll love the idea of being outside, on the brink of one world, a few carefully placed letters away.
Or he will be inside a café. He doesn’t care whether it’s boutique or Gloria Jeans, moodily or well lit, though he likes it there especially when it’s raining. He will be the one with a notebook in one hand, pen in the other,
How to Comment on dA1. LOL Subjective If you don't like something, even if the person put time, effort, and thought into it, it isn't art. To further assert this truth, be sure to go to the person's deviation and/or main page to tell them that you think their work isn't art because you don't like it.How to Comment on dA4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
2. Hydra Stuck in an argument? Feel like you're losing or the other person is making points that are too logical for you to even attempt to debate against just fucking silly to you? Re-jump into the same argument using a double account. Two heads are better than one, right? So two accounts must make your side all the more valid. If you can make an account where no one can guess that it's yours, all the more bonus points for you and your craftiness at hiding yourself on the internet. If you're -that- clever online, you must surely be a master ninja in real life. Additionally, telling the person the same thing using a different account name ensures that they see your side of things more cle
How to Make a HorrorHorror: the other white meat. Everyone's watched, read, or played one at some point. Maybe you're just feeling tired of seeing cute fluffy things on TV every goddamn day. It's getting increasingly difficult to find good quality freak-outs in an increasingly sheltered and child-proofed world. Need a break from your daily bombardment of family values and God-fearing overtones? Well, never fear. Here are some quick tips to guide you into becoming the Stephenie Meyer Stephen King.How to Make a Horror4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
1. The Kids Every horror has to have children. Because children are usually creepier and far more hellish than your typical ghosts if given the chance. Especially little girls. Also, only dark-haired little girls are creepy. Blonds and red-heads can't be creepy. That's just silly. Everyone knows they're too dumb to be conniving or homicidal.
And the longer the girl's hair is, the creepier she is. For extra horror goodness, make sure her hair's length surpasses her actual <i>
InfertilityInfertilityInfertility3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"When are you two going to start working on more kids?"
It was such a simple question. The thought behind it was innocent in design. A simple inquiry on why a thirty-one year old woman had only one child was one of the most dreadful conversations that I have ever had the pleasure of being part of.
While my daughter was the light in the darkness cast by my own body's failure, my happy little family was not the societal norm. A man and a woman were supposed to have two children, a dog, and a white picket fence. This was a sign of success for a stay at home woman.
We were never normal. My husband and I did not marry in the conventional church. Those aren't our beliefs. To replace us on this orbiting rock that we call earth, we have a little girl. She is too smart for her age, wanting to watch video games that are ahead of her time and writing a story of her own.
"We don't want any more," my husband sa
NamelessI walk out of the tattoo parlor, clutching my wrist, thinking the money was well-spent. My friends walk quickly down the steps, eager to eat, be full. At the next story down there is a man huddled in the corner, ripped, dirty coat wrapped tight around his crumpled frame, worn out sneakers, stained sweatpants, fraying gloves.Nameless3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My friends don't really notice him, or pretend not to, but my heart squeezes a bit as I turn the corner, clutching my wrist, believing my money was well-spent. But at the third step I shudder with selfishness, heartlessness, pray to God that I don't turn into judgment and lack of humility.
I swivel around, nearly fall, hold a hand to my chest because I don't mean to offend him (though he's sleeping in a cold stairwell for Christ's sake, it's winter and he looks so damn exhausted).
"Excuse me," my voice quivers, my hands shake. I wait for a visible response but he does nothing to open his eyes, to look in my direction. I take another step forward. "Are you sleeping
ArtWhy does art need to be perfect?Art4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Why throw rules on how to become a good artist onto us?
Why give us direction on how to do it right?
Why send us to the greatest artists for learning?
Why do we need the best learning to become good artists?
Cant we choose what we want to create, in the way we want to create it?
Our flaws is not a negative barrier.
Our flaws can create new and exiting things.
With our flaws we can create something no one else has created.
Only going for what is and looks natural is one of hundreds of paths.
And its not the only "right" one.
You have the choice to go all the paths.
There shouldnt be just a few to choose from, you make up your own.
Art isnt restricted and neither is your imagination.
Art doesnt need to be perfect to be amazing.
Guide to the AneemeiHello. Today we'll be going into the depths of the jungle in search of an exotic and incredibly wild beast in its natural habitat. It is a very curious creature indeed, sometimes it takes great care to make itself the most noticeable thing in plain sight, other times it hides amongst us, camoflaging itself as "one of us." That is, until it is properly baited and/or the creature assumes it is only in the presence of other members of its species, in which it will then throw caution to the wind and commence returning to its true nature.Guide to the Aneemei4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
That of the aneemeifayun.
In general, the aneemeifayun species is largely capable of human speech. However, it functions more like a 'second' language than anything else, only to be used when absolutely necessary. And even then, it is often sprinkled with an assortment of oddities from their first along with being somewhat broken and incomplete.
Some examples would include:
"omg disis sokawaii," possibly meaning, "This shit in front of me is fucking adorab
How To Say GoodbyeDear Unborn Child, Whom I Let Go;How To Say Goodbye3 years ago in Letters More Like This
When I was thirteen and four months old, and you were thirteen years younger, I decided to let you go. You squirmed in opposition beneath my ribcage, up against my pelvis, and I licked my lips and tried to smile while I leaned my forehead on the cool glass of the car, hellbound.
I remember sea weed insertion, dilation, cramps and bleeding. Orange smoothies from Dairy Queen that I threw up, and I hoped you were mingling in the remains of my summer day treat, so I could put this behind me. Pretend I was 'moving on'. I laid in the bathtub of a hotel room for six hours, trying to melt you away in scalding water from a rusty tap, yet you clung on, holding tightly to the walls of my pelvic region. Wiggling upwards, towards my throat. Past my teeth. You're trying to get out, but my family has decided you won't breathe when you're released from your bloody shackles; you may as well settle down now, sweet son, settle down.
The rest of this, to me, is a blur. Th
The Bookworm LamentsThe Bookworm Laments10 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
We all know the advantages of being a Bookworm – the richness of imaginative experience (a.k.a. day-dreams), the broadening of horizons (a.k.a. someone else's ideas), the constant friend always by your side (a.k.a. book) and vast built-up reserves of general knowledge (a.k.a. trivia). But who talks about the disadvantages, huh? Besides the all-pervasive semi-myth about geeky bookworms (Simply stated, the myth goes Bookworms are geeky), who can speak, off-hand, about the problems, the real problems?
Think about it – you excavate your nose from the Lord of the Rings (the one they made the movie on, yes) and realise that in the past hour, your mom has volunteered you for dishwashing duty, your boyfriend has left you (you're not sure why, you weren't paying him any attention) and a little dog has begun to gnaw on your ankle… It's just so easy to get lost in the make-believe worlds the authors lay down for you – for that matter, it's easy to lose yourself in a book
Automatici.Automatic2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"So where are you from?" The boy leans toward me, questions swimming in his eyes. I smile.
"Oh, I'm from Boston."
"No, I mean, where are you from?" My smile falters as I realize where this is going. It's an all-too familiar conversation, one I've been having since I was old enough to reply.
"Do you mean where was I born?"
"I was born in China."
"Do you speak Chinese?"
"Does your family speak Chinese?"
He looks befuddled. I sigh.
"Oh!" I see the light bulb over his head go off in a shower of sparks. "Do you know who your real parents are? Like, your real parents?" My temper flares. I stifle the urge to throw something.
"You mean my biological parents?"
"Oh." There's an awkward pause. I have learned to wait it out, to prepare my next automated response.
"When were you adopted?"
"When I was a year old."
"Did you live in an orphanage?"
"Like in Annie?"
Rolling my eyes seems appropriate.
"No, not l
Choose Your Name“John Brant,” I whispered, and a dashing British gentleman appeared in my mind, arrogant and suave as the slim-fitting Italian suit he wore. He sounded classy, not overly pompous. But there was just something about him. He could be the cool confident charmer I was looking for. But he could just as well be a stiff stocky soldier with his pride shoved far up his ass.Choose Your Name1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
“John Chase,” The name rolled smoothly off my tongue. Another man took form, both the same and different from the first. He was just as charming, perhaps a little lower in class with a bolder tongue. And was that a little mischief I saw in his eyes? Undoubtedly, he was smoother than the latter. He could work. A common name for a common man. Maybe a little too common. But he could work.
“John Davies,” I frowned, my eyes still closed as I wrinkled my brow. This man was full of question marks. Unlike the previous two, I couldn’t picture him quite as clearly. And I wasn’t su
CrayonsLife is like a box of crayons.Crayons7 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
At birth, you're given a great big box of them to share and add color to your life.
Some colors get used more than others.
Sometimes, a crayon gets broken. A Bright color gets snapped in half and tossed in the garbage can, never to be returned. Sometimes you keep coloring. Sometimes you can't. That color was important.
Sometimes a crayon is gained, shared between two people. That color might be just perfect, and works great! Other times it's a different shade, but it will make do.
But, there is always one color left in the box.
It's normally unused until death. It's used to frame the picture. To add the final border to the coloring board of life.
Some people use it. They color onto other's pictures with it. Sometimes their own.
They use it to scribble out portions of the picture. Sometimes the portion isn't that important.
Sometimes it is.
Sometimes there are multiple blacks in the box when you open it for the day.. Sometimes there's only one, or i