The Terrifying GorgerThe Terrifying Gorger8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Name: Gregor Samsa
Name: Gorger (Smith or Ex or whatever slap dash moniker lets him into large cities)
Age: Gregor is thirty, Gorger is technically twenty one years old, having been created fully formed when Gregor was nine.
Height: Gregor is 5'9'', Gorger is 6'2''
Weight: Gregor is a malnourished 110 lbs. Gorger lives up to his namesake, but prefers to gain density as opposed to visible mass. He is 200 pounds.
Background: Gregor had a German father and a Ukrainian mother. Gorger has no blood, and, by proxy, no DNA. Gregor was born in Alaska. Gorger was created in Gregor's head.
Gregor Samsa was an average, All American, Joe Everyman.
His hair was a dull brown bowl cut, flecked with gray. His eye color was the reverse of this. His face was plain and unmarked. He was barely noticeable and instantly forgettable.
Most maniacs are stopped dead early on in their careers because they ring very deep alarm bells in the people they meet. The alarm bells state very clearl
TFLN FF7 - Three WeeksFinal Fantasy Seven: TFLN CuesTFLN FF7 - Three Weeks5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
(Texts from Last Night)
BETA: Ziggy Pasta
Cue: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND ALREADY!?!
Warning: Angst .Tears .Sadness
Disclaimer: Don't own, just using for my own amusement. Do not profit from this endeavour.
Characters: Rufus and Tseng
Tseng held onto the sobbing ten year old boy who was clinging desperately to him.
"It's alright. Let it out," Tseng said, a little uncomfortable at the role of giving comfort. It was not something that he was familiar with.
Rufus still sobbed and pressed his face against his belly. It sounded as if Rufus was trying to say something but he couldn't make it out between his painful-sounding sobs.
Tseng pulled Rufus away from his belly and dropped to one knee in front of him so he could look into the boy's smoky eyes.
"Take a deep breath," Tseng said and demonstrated it. He was glad to see the boy follow his example. Tseng ran his hands over the tear st
the problem of evilHe fills his fingers with my skin.the problem of evil7 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
You're quiet today, he says.
I do not tell him. I don't lift my eyes like the breasts of angels in churches. I do not tell himI am learning to accept the end of the world.
He pricks the back of my hand, and I bend forward, my forehead against my knees. I think about names and I wonder if I were to whisper the name of a long-dead mother, a hospitalized father, a brother in denial, a sister without her hair, a dog leaning on two stubby arms and a cat with her tail wrapped inside her mouth, a baby choking on the roots of life and a girl battling her Adams' appleI wonder if I could save them, my mouth choked against my jeans, his face tucked away in the crevices of my palm, a desert inside.
No, I say, I'm not.
There is an amputee in the dark playing war games. He presses shift and his gun comes out, and he hits ctrl twice to shoot. Two enemies fall with their arms streaming behind them, graphics tearing at pixels, his screen a mi
Thick as a Brick - Jehtro TullReally don't mind if you sit this one out.Thick as a Brick - Jehtro Tull10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you
shake your head and
say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
See there! A son is born -- and we pr
On WritingTo be a good writer, you have to be a Man. Not just a man, but a Man. I envy the hell out of chicks that decide to write mainstream fiction. Rehash a few awkward or painful teenage memories, chuck your crystallized adolescence into the defroster and pawn it off to Oprah, ba-da-bing, youre a millionaire. Not with guys. Oprah doesnt have your back if youre swingin around a dick. Did you see what she did to James Frey? Jesus. That should teach him to potentially exaggerate any fragment of a story.On Writing8 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Writing is easy. Anyone with a superiority complex and a pen is already a writer. But to be a good writer, one of them literary-types who actually sell books, you have to toe the borderline of godhood. You have to eat lightening and shit victory. You have to drink like Hemingway and be at least 70% more bulletproof. You have to be able to chop down a redwood with your knuckles and whittle it into a massive club using only your teeth. The phallic imagery only adds to the m
The PastTitle: The pastThe Past4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Author: Enide Dear
Pairing: VincentxLucretia *le gasp!*
Rating: work safe
A/N: art exchange for a 'kiddy!Remnants sleeping in the lab' pic my CrimsonSun! The prompt was Veld and Vincent talking, no pairing I had to do some research on Veld. He seemed even more uptight than Tseng
"You are too emotional." Veld steeple his fingers and looked at the Turk over them. "It's a trait you have to learn to get rid off."
Burgundy eyes locked on to his, angry and hurt. The colour alone was strange enough to make most people back away, but Veld was not most people. He sighed.
"You are a good Turk, Valentine, but you feel too much. It's a common fault amongst young people, but you are past the age where such behaviour could be accepted. A Turk is "
"Is what, sir?" The angry man cut him off, eyes flaring under a mop of unruly black hair. "Is a Turk someone unable to feel friendship or love? Someone who is de
Love is irrelevant.I've written a dozen poems like thisLove is irrelevant.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they make me feel sick, they clench my ribs
searching for the words to match.
I start them same, the kindness in your
hipbones, your heart swelling in my gut,
the swallowing of each other with water
or a cold drink. Not to be chewed.
I continue with the distance, drinking wine
from a plastic bottles and clutching a telephone
on Rue de Foch. You talk to me for while and hang up,
you cycle around Canada for hours,
searching for something that may or may not be me
and I wait by the phone, by the keyboard, clicking my mouse.
Then I tell the story of when we both come back
and you are ugly, and I am embarrassed.
Your face is a cancerous lung and it disgusts me,
you spill yoghurt on my bedsheets and shove
sharp crisps in your mouth,
you offer me one and I am afraid.
Next is the months after, the years after:
my skin looks strange. I'm an alcoholic.
I puke up everything I eat, everything I feel,
everything that reminds me of you
and I still wait
Master List of TFLN FF7 LinksPick and choose the ones that strike your fancy. There is something for everyone taste!Master List of TFLN FF7 Links5 years ago in Humor More Like This
Sorry -- Reno tires to get some pity sex.
My Bad -- Tseng gets a phone call from Reno
Runny Nose -- Reno torments Zack at a meeting where he was listening to Reeve talk.
No Fun -- Reno is on vacation. Rude is not.
Ride -- Reno hurts his foot.
Feng Shui -- Tseng returns from Nibelheim
Cyclical loveI see a beginning and an endCyclical love9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
clasped within the lines of your palms, echoing
in the ripples of your irises;
I remember the apricot april morning
stumbling over your outstretched legs
in the park which I had never seen as
anything more than a cut-through, but
my life changed course and the park
became a destination and I still don’t know
when I noticed that I was waking up
twenty minutes earlier just to
talk to you before work, just to hear
your lilting voice flow through my ears and
fill my mouth with ideas;
And I remember the dew drops kissing my feet
when you convinced me that it was practically illegal
to wear shoes in june and I watched as
the grass pressed hatched patterns into your skin
and for a moment I wished that they were my fingers
holding you in eternal summer lawns, swan choruses,
whirring rollerskates, the smell of peach blossoms;
And I remember you blooming and shedding
the remnants of your cocoon as you pointed out
made-up constellations littering a swelling augu
Disaster Looks Fine...She smelled of artificialDisaster Looks Fine...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lilacs with faint notes of
lemon. Hair had grown
considerably, skin was
as soft looking as to the touch
belied and I couldn't begin
to remember why I walked
away once prior.
I tried to fight off my
typical male tendencies
but soon gave in;
she was wearing a
low cut blouse, after all.
Some time eloped, thinking,
trying to remember, but
it came eventually,
I again remembered the
why, the falling out of us.
Rather not dwell on the
reasons, know I should
remain the angry one
but I couldn't seem to
locate that emotion.
Compassion shone through
and I found myself becoming
fond of you again.
This street corner
rendezvous wasn't in today's
plans but I couldn't think
of any other upstart better
than the one staring into
my soul, I still believed
she could have seen right through.
I swear to you, up and
down, I was trying to fight
my typical manly ways,
but she eventually said
why not come back to her
place, out that windy corner and the
expectant rain cloud we spied
y te grito:sequel to o balmy breath; continuation of passages from invitation to a beheading, by vladimir nabokovy te grito:6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Well, why not drink this mush of hope, this thick, sweet slop my hopes are still alive and I thought that at least now, at least here, where solitude is held in such high esteem, it might divide into two parts only, for you and for me, instead of multiplying as it didnoisy, manifold, absurd, so that I could not even come near you this is why I am writingthis is my last attempt to explain to you what is happening, Marthe make an exceptional effort and understand, if only through a fog, if only with a corner of your brain, but understand what is happening, Marthe, understand that they are going to kill mecan it be so difficult
I do not ask lengthy widows lame
Tseeve: Drabbles Meme part IITseng had left a note for Reeve; it was a private affair and therefore the words were not traceable over the usual communication systems. Instead the Executive had found it when taking lunch. Opening his metal lunchbox, a piece of paper fluttered towards the floor. Reeve caught it within his fingers and with a puzzled expression, lifted it to read.Tseeve: Drabbles Meme part II5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Meet at Wall Market entrance, 1900 hours. Wear something comfortable.
Enjoy your lunch...
Reeve recognised the script as Tseng's own hand and a faint embarrassment crept up his neck at the last comment. The Turk will undoubtedly use the fact his lunchbox bore a rendition of an ancient beast to tease him in the future. However, he put that thought to the side, as well as the other questions raised about the invitation, and concentrated on his work for the day.
At 1845 hours Reeve had made his way down into the slums dressed in a pair of grey jogging bottoms and light blue sweatshirt, his apparel of choice during the rare times spent re
grudges inside your fistsI am disgusted by my skin.grudges inside your fists7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
I have stretched out my foot and seen the blurs of veins: the blazer-blue rivers and roads running into each other, overlapping, daring to spill over, pounding on the roof of flesh and warmed by the red within; and I have seen them scatter, disappear as I pull my foot inwards, stretch themselves taut when I thrust out. The top of my big toe is a sunrise and the melted cow-white of my skin has been swallowed by the air, and when you breathe it all in, I hope you can taste the rain, not the salt and the blood.
My teeth have taught me the intricacies of my hands. With two solid cubes of yellowing calcium, I have found the ridge of wing-bone just below the red patch; I have felt the gummy lid between your thumb and your forefinger, and the lines like pencil shavings there; I have discovered the protruding semicircle of bone, angry and upset, kicking out with a defiance against skin; and I have been perplexed by my knuckles, the months counted off from each ledge
.:KakaSasu:. I need you"Dammit!" The brunette snapped, cradling his now limp arm. "Why can't I get it right!?".:KakaSasu:. I need you7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"You'll get there, Sasuke." His teacher said calmly. The boy scowled, his frustration obvious.
"I don't want to just get there! I need to be there, now!" He kicked the ground and swore again, his anger at his current situation not helped at all by the fact that his arm was most likely broken and causing the lone Uchiha survivor far more pain than he would show. He glared at his sensei through dark eyes, surrounded by equally dark circles, a clear display of the boy's lack of sleep.
Kakashi sighed. "You won't go anywhere without patience, Sasuke. A ninja waits, and strikes when the time is right."
"I won't be ready when the time is right at this rate!" Sasuke insisted, voice rising slightly. Something about Kakashi had always infuriated him. The calm demeanor that, despite his greatest efforts, Sasuke could never seem to achieve only grated on his nerves all the worse. There was a pause
of monsters and menTime does not wait for you. He walks down the train tracks with squared shoulders and looks ahead like he is going somewhere. In his eye you can see the horizons of concrete buildings dying for a touch at the sky, raising antennas up to grasp onto God's outstretched palm. Time is the seventh grade boy in overalls who walks unfumbling along the gutter with his feet like bound rivers, and if he were to stop and smell the roses we'd all be afraid we'd have none left, sucked up his nostrils into the secret garden of his lungs. Time wears wristwatches like snakes along his arm, traveling up to find his clavicles bent out of shape with want and desire, and his knuckles could pinpoint you from miles away. Time is the seventh grade boy that you watch enviously, his skilled feet and his unfurled tongue and the confident way he sits at his desk and speaks Latin in school, and you are the kid who sits in the back row and draws ants on the back of his neck with your scrunched fingers, mumbling a dof monsters and men7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
someday i will build a walli am still jealous of watersomeday i will build a wall7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the rivulets and crescents of your palm
while your skin mimics an ocean;
but as soon as you start to take it
it slips, slides, trickles
it will be held,
bending to fit the poetry
of your hands,
we gathered around your hospital
bed and if i closed my eyes i could pretend
it was thanksgiving,
when the house is gold
and our hands are
pinked like bent and pale knees;
and we clasped our hands across
our nipples and you look up
and wave to god like he is
coming for you, and we touch
our nails to our chins and
make new freckles on
our skin. it withers,
lost to a sea of blood too quick
for your veins, and
as if your heart is already
i liked you better
when i could take your head in my hands
and hold it like a coin,
and your curls would fall around and
mash against me, and my palms would
be made of silvery thread and
thick skin for the rest of the day;
and when i opened m
AkuNo-Our love is Random pt. 1MovingAkuNo-Our love is Random pt. 15 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Reno watches his roommate's belongings disappear into cardboard boxes as he leans against the door frame, unwilling to help. Instead, he keeps a hard gaze on Axel's skinny form, wondering just what he could say to convince him that living here is far better than living with Roxas.
If there's one thing that can rub Axel the wrong way it's ugly handwriting. And with Reno being a few hundreds of miles away and without a cell phone in Midgar, Axel can only grit his teeth and attempt to decipher his latest chicken scratchings.
Reno had thought that he'd grow bored of the way Axel feels against his body after three months, that he'd have to replace him like every other ex to fulfill his needs. Instead, he finds himself addicted, needing Axel's touch even after taking his fill.
Nobody on campus can agree on what it is exactly that Reno and Axel has between them. They never smile when they're together,
ErosI burn. Sand under my feet, stones, dust, horizon. AEros6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
way across a burning desert. Faster, further. Before the light chars me. Midday
sun on the swells, splinters on burning oil. Apokalypse on my back. Faster,
further. Everything burns, keen heat, blazing sun. Horizon blurs with the sweat
in my eyes. The muffled syntony of my paces, monotone, rhythmic, the sound of my
heart. Im on the road between shore and surge. Faster, faster. Youre
behind me, I can almost feel you in my neck. Shiver, heat, burning asphalt.
You dont know why I am faster.
I cannot bear the heat. Midday sun on my shoulders. I speed across the sand. Can
you still see me? Im one with the wind, blue, the sea, yellow, the sand,
black, rocks, white, the light. As if I didnt exist. Faster. Fire. Youre
behind me. Hot, so hot.. Can you see me? The midday sun in your eyes. You burn
You dont know why I am faster.
Dont look at me. Dont go away. I am cliven to the very
skinhis skin is soft --skin4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but soft over solid man-hardness and bones,
like pieces of smooth stone held together
just below his surface.
the smell of him hovers above his skin like a morning fog
of heat, a knowing wildness, an unassuming soap,
and the cigarettes he smokes before and after,
that are in his bloodstream and his sweat.
the smell and the soft hardness of his skin
is what erases her already-wavering uncertainty,
allowing instinct to press her nose,
her lips to his unnaturally pigmented shoulder
and follow that thin edge up his neck to his earlobe,
eliciting those captivating,
and demanding, lip-biting kisses
while her fingers grasp for more
of his freckled, tattooed skin.
she is not a natural bed-sharer
and they are both all elbows in sleep,
so she wakes hours before him
and notes his unconscious peculiarities,
wanting to wake him with a burning trail of kiss
ending in a fire like this morning's eventual sun,
but glad she refrained
ComforterComforter4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
(the triple lunes that
I Know"Look I'm not going to let you bully me anymore."I Know5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"Oh is that so huh, well what are you going to do about it huh?"
"I'm bi okay, I'm not saying it to get attention nor am I doing it just for the hell of it."
"Really, well how come you don't get a boner when you see naked dudes huh?"
"You just don't get it, love has nothing to do with sex any more than you bullying me. Love is to feel an emotional longing for someone and a willingness to stay with that person for the rest of one's life."
"If that's the case do seriously think you could feel this way with a dude."
"I know it in my heart that I would, I may worry at times that I'm treating this as a fad but I shouldn't worry. A person who was lying would not speak his or her mind as much as I have in the past few days."
"You do make a good point."
"I am emotionally attracted to both sexes, I am a victom of cupid's hexes, I would say."
"What we would say."
"Yeah, well would you sa
The Siblings, the Apocalypse and the ColonyThe Siblings, the Apocalypse and the Colony1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
A brother and sister manage to stay together despite the end of the world as they struggle to avoid being taken by 'the infected' When they find themselves unwillingly enlisted in the 'colony' will they find a new life within these walls or will the colony be what finally tears them apart?
A short one shot story at about 2,600 words.
- - - - - -
The Siblings, the Apocalypse and the Colony
Out in the middle of nowhere lives a family of three.
At one time they were a happy family of four, but after loosing her mother the girl's father became withdrawn from the world, they moved to seclusion and lived out simple lives on their large piece of property away from prying eyes. Their father became an eccentric, anti-government, or rather anti-civilization, and his mannerisms rubbed off on his children as they became his fellow preppers... little did they know as children that their father's actions would be such a saving grace.
Ever since 'the world went to shit' the three of them have been li
How to CritHow to CritHow to Crit6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
As giving good crit is often appreciated here is a guide to helping you structure your crit to be of maximum use to the artist
To Crit or not to Crit?-
First of all check the artist wants crit. Some really like it, others get really mad at it so respect those red crosses. A lot of artists upload stuff to get positive comments may struggle to deal with unwanted criticism. I tend to crit only when I see the green tick, I will not generally crit on a picture unless there is something that I feel is greatly marring the picture and can be easily fixed.
Take into account the artist style and artist skill. If something is supposed to be distorted due to style reasons then dont focus on the anatomy not being correct. Also be realistic about what the artist can achieve at their current skill level.
Another thing to consider is as what stage the picture is at. In W.I.P stage you can crit a little more freely but if its a finished masterpiece
Cheshire Cat's LullabyDear little Alice, please don't cryCheshire Cat's Lullaby7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Tears of woe won't help you get by
I know that you feel scared, lost and alone
Since you cannot find your way back home
Have strange things happened?
Is there anything I need to know?
Did you taste things that make you shrink or grow?
Did you suffer any, please say it isn't so!
I will help you out, just wait and see
You'd be glad that you found a cat like me
I'll show you around this fascinating place
Only if you keep a smile on your face
No more reading signs that say "This way" or "Yonder"
Now you don't have to sit down and try to ponder
Which way should you go, you ask?
I seem to find that a fairly simple task
Just follow my grin, for you will know soon
How much it looks like a glowing crescent moon
Don't be afraid, please follow my advice
Surely you don't even need to think twice...
Oh look, there's the Queen all dressed in red,
Hear how she screams "Off with your head!"
Those are the very words that everyone dreads
Would you like to keep your he