survey - Sam and Spikesurvey - Sam and Spike5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Part One: The Violent/Sadistic/Angry Side
1. Does your character have temper problems?
Sam: uhm... I can get pretty angry sometimes, but I don't think I have temper problems? Right Spike?
Spike: You broke my jaw.
Author: your turn, Spike.
Spike: I tend to get easily pissed off, yeah.
2. Has your character ever beat someone to the pulp?
Sam: *cough* once..
Spike: yeah, I have, a few times..
3. Does your character get angry over stupid situations?
Sam: no, I mostly have a fair reason for getting angry.
Spike: Me? dunno.
4. Have they ever destroyed/killed something out of blind rage?
Sam: no. Or I hit Spike out of blind rage but I didn't de-... oh, righ, I destroyed his jaw...
5. Does he or she often get into fights?
Sam: I got in a fight with Spike's bully once. I couldn't stand seeing someone so dear to me being hurt, so I, well, beat him up..
Spike: I get into fights all the time. Hardly me who starts it, though.
6. Is your character violent to
Survey - Saunders and TerranceSurvey - Saunders and Terrance5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Character Survey - with Saunders and Terrance
Part One: The Violent/Sadistic/Angry Side
1. Does your character have temper problems?
Saunders: No, I don't think I do ^^
Terrance: He doesn't. And me neither Y'know, not temper problems, we're not even close to that..! But yeah, we get angry sometimes I guess. Everyone does, right?
2. Has your character ever beat someone to the pulp?
Saunders: never. I don't think I've ever been into a real fight.
Terrance: I despise violence.
3. Does your character get angry over stupid situations?
Saunders: no, I hardly get angry. I just get...down, kinda blue y'know.
Terrance: I can get angry over stupid things, yeah. Me and Greggy have argued quite some times over silly things, and it's mostly my fault actually. I don't get mad, just a little angry.
*looks at Saunders* Don't you ever get angry at Sam?
Saunders: Well, yeah sure. But I never yell at him or threaten him or anything. Sam is such a smart little dude; h
Waking to RealityAUTHOR'S NOTE: I figured I'd stick this here, just in case the beginning of this deters you. Read on before determining that Spike is totally out of character, ok? I promise, it makes sense in the end!Waking to Reality4 years ago in Drama More Like This
Tall and skinny.
Aggressively hunched posture.
It's him, all right. Spike.
I hesitate to think of him that way, but I can't help it. No one loves him like I do, I know that And I know he doesn't feel the same, but I can't help it. He's He's always been 'my Spike'.
Not in a possessive way, though! Just In a way that I care where no one else does. So I'll do what I can to take care of him like no one else does.
Thing is I can't believe he's here. At the tree house I've come here every day for the past two weeks, and he hasn't been here. I doubted he'd ever want to see me again after Well All that
I figured he hated be, but There he is.
Spike - Be All Sins Remembered"We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep."Spike - Be All Sins Remembered5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Shakespeare (The Tempest)
The gallows pole. A snakelike rope bound on it, quite stretched. The victim hanging by the neck wasn't present in the picture yet, still to be drawn. Spike sketched the scene he had stirring in his mind for some days now, a living picture from a half-remembered dream.
The work in the arts class that morning was about drawing a picture with the theme of free will. Normally Spike would avoid sharing the content of his thoughts with a teacher, but he couldn't get rid of that image and was urging to put it on a paper, it didn't matter if somebody else would see it. The teacher would probably tear the picture apart, but fuck it; after all it wouldn't be the first time he presented morbid pieces of art. "No artist is morbid", he remembered Sam saying to him in some occasion, "an artist can express everything. Oscar Wilde said that." Though Spike didn't consider himself an artist,
another survey: Spike and Samanother survey: Spike and Sam5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
1) Pick one of your FCs/OCs
2) Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your FC/OC
3) Tag 3 people at the end of the quiz
1.) What's your name?
Spike: Spike Shaffer.
Sam: Samuel Eoghan Feidhlim Saunders.
Spike: dude, seriously?
Sam: uhm... y-yeah..
2.) Do you know why you were named that?
Spike: no idea, and I'd like to know, actually..
Sam: I've no idea either. My middle names mean something in Irish though, so I'm sure dad had a reason for giving me odd names.
3.) Are you single or taken?
Sam: same here.
4) Have any abilities or powers?
Spike: I can scowl people to death.
Spike: *sigh* Sam, didn't you ever learn about sarcasm..?
Sam: oh.. Well, to answer the question - no, I don't think I have any powers or such..
5.) Stop being a Mary-sue.
Spike: your MOM is a Mary-Sue..
Sam: what's a Mary-stew? o.o
6.) Uh...if you were to get in a fight with a strong wrestler, do you think you'd win?
Spike: me, because I'm so fricken buff..!
SPIKE and HatredSPIKE and HatredSPIKE and Hatred4 years ago in Settings More Like This
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
The man left the room, the glowing embers of crazed lust in his eyes and sick satisfaction running fresh through his veins, leaving the boy, Spike, lying in the bed that has witnessed more dark deeds then sin. They had become more frequent lately, these nightly visits from his uncle, Charles. Those nights when he prayed for sleep, not for relief of exhaustion, but so he could sleep through the staining actions that he preformed. But strangely this night offered him that retreat, which had unfortunately come later than needed, and as sleep over took his cold and trembling body he fell into dreaming.
He could hear scratching, scratching on the sickly white walls that surrounded him, and outlined the large room that he was in, his bare feet, chilled against the wet linoleum and
EscalationEscalationEscalation5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
This is a short series of short sections that make up a short story. Eggy
Chapter 1: The Dinner
"Night out on the town, huh?" Eddy hummed as he tightened his apron around his waist, looking down at the 'Kiss the Cook' logo on the front as the smell of peppers spiced up the kitchen around him. In front of him was the sparkling clean stove, now home to a pan full of sizzling green and red peppers and onions.
"For the umpteenth time this week, yes." Double Dee sounded irked. His usually fond and respectful attitude towards his parents now replaced with annoyance at the mention of their disappearance. They had been gone all week, only visiting for minutes at a time each day, relishing in fine dining and fancy hotels uptown. "Father had gotten a promotion, bless his soul, so it's only natural for the two of them to celebrate but-"
"So what're you gettin' out of it?" Eddy asked, skillfull
FailureI've lost my dreamFailure2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's shattered, gone
I stand here with shards surrounding me
Dreams of a future
A career and happiness
and I'm left here
So once again,
I turn to the blade
to find it gone.
I thought I'd recovered
I was denied my hope
it laughs in my face
Death, is what I want.
Paint It Black - FRERARDGerard Way was finally home from work. Work was the one place he disliked the most, and he was glad it was Friday, as well as the end of his shift. He was just sticking his key in the door to his apartment when a voice got his attention.Paint It Black - FRERARD5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"You've got a neighbor. Guy moved in next door to ya'.", said Gerard's old, generally pleasant, land-lord. Gerard looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. He hadn't had a neighbor there for months since some ancient old hag with fifty cats got evicted.
"Really? Well...when did he move in?", he asked back curiously. He wasn't really pleased to have been told this, expecting the worst, but he wasn't disappointed, either. He was more interested than anything.
The land-lord shrugged indifferently, "Today. Decent guy, 'spose."
With that, he left Gerard alone in the hallway, disappearing down the flight of stairs. Gerard bit his chapped lip and unlocked the door. He was immediately at ease across the threshold of his home and he dropped his coat on the hook near
A Poet's CraftI craft my words into sword and shield,A Poet's Craft3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Arranging them into powerful forms,
As I enter the arena of creativity.
I use my voice, laced in melody and wit
To form vernacular needles
And sew together
Imagination and expression
My thoughts are an arrow
My poetry, the bow,
Striking the heart of the reader
Like a razor, cutting free
LoZ/Okami - The Blessings of Heaven (Part 2)Screeching wildly in celebration, the imps paraded across Shinshu Field back towards their campsite, reviling in their stolen loot. Of course, these demons were never a very bright bunch, and they had no reason to think that the beautiful colored gems they hocked from some poor schmuck laying unconscious in a pond were in fact a form of currency that was useless in Nippon. To them, it was the biggest treasure they had ever come across, and they were so busy chattering amongst themselves over how rich they were going to be that they failed to notice the white wolf and green-clad warrior racing towards them from a nearby hilltop.LoZ/Okami - The Blessings of Heaven (Part 2)3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
One of the imps, who was lovingly gazing at a green rupee as though it was the single most valuable treasure in the world, finally caught a glimpse of the two. When he recognized who they were - the sacred beast that had slain so many of his comrades and the guy they they robbed just a few hours prior - he pointed, screeching warnings to the ot
A Wolf HaikuHe looks to the moonA Wolf Haiku4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
And he sings it his own song
As it shines on him
Embracing the light
As if it aims towards him
And blessing the night
Though in solitude
He knows someone hearing him
Will be summoned
Listen to his song
Listen to the sound carried
And know his passion
He breaks the silence
He knows others will come join
And content with him
coloring with youOur smiles naked for all to seecoloring with you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with worn wood under feet bare,
we've gathered our pages and ideas to create
treasures behind a door with no key,
just you and I, one another's mate.
I've got green for the sky, you've picked pink for the sun,
we'll laugh and we'll tease 'til the picture's all done
Pillows everywhere tossed with no care,
and forts made with blankets, too,
we prob'ly won't finish in time unless
you let me brush your hair.
Ha! See? Our room's such a mess!
We'll add a touch of tangerine faces on flowers
and raspberry red vines climbing towers
Late morning rain makes for grass with white dew,
given by cascading booms of thunder.
We got snacks of strawberries and blueberry toast,
so now listen when I say what is true:
it's these times with you I love the most!
The Black Mockingbird pt. 1The Black Mockingbird pt. 16 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The night have fallen and it was time for the Freeman brothers to go to bed. For some reason, did both not feel very sleepy. But they didn't say anything, they just lay down quietly. Almost a whole hour have been going, and no sleep yet. It was pretty unsual. Huey would have heard Rileys snoring by now... but his breathing was calm. Was he asleep? Huey just sighed and looked at the clock. 10.09 pm.
Huey blicked. Did he just fall asleep? No, he was just so into his thoughts he forgot everything around him. How long have it been? He looked at the clock again. 02.03 AM.
That was enough. He sat up in bed, but he didn't come any thuder until he heard Rileys tired voice.
"Huey", he started off.
Huey stopped, and looked over to his brother. Riley wasn't looking back, he was just staring right up to the ceiling.
"Yeah?" Huey answered.
"I had a nightmare..." he said.
"Too bad", Huey said and stood up. "I can't sleep".
He walked out the room. Riley watched him all the way out. He sat up in his b
The Outsiders- Dally's Story"No! Johnny! You can't be dead! You just can't!" I slammed my fist against the frozen cold hospital wall and listened to the long beep of the monitor. Johnny was dead. The only thing that I had ever loved was now gone. Forever. I couldn't take the stress. I left Pony in the hospital room and dashed down the stairs. The only things I could hear as I wove my way through the hordes of people in the hospital lobby were my heart thumping loudly in my chest (bud-dum, bud-dum) and the many thoughts wildly racing through my head like wild mustangs.The Outsiders- Dally's Story9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Johnny's gone, Dally." "It's your fault for giving him the gun, Dally." "How will you go on, Dally." I couldn't take it. I had to do something to get this off my mind. Then I saw it. The big grocery store on the end of 18th st.
My heart still thumping loudly, I raced into the grocery store, my heater cold against my side. I pulled out the heater from under my loose shirt, looked around and pointed the gun to the clerk's head. Trembling, he raised h
Love is HomeLove is Home4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A lone boy, barely a teen, named Kerrigan Reyna, walked down the sidewalk. But most people knew him as Kerry. It was the first fall of winter and the snow had really come down. He tightened the scarf around his neck and rubbed his arms for warmth. The freshly fallen snow was up to his ankles, and the freezing wind stung at his cold cheeks.
The cold felt all too familiar. He wanted the warmth of a home, but that was not an option for him now. The words his father yelled at him still haunted his mind. He was upset. No Kerry's father was furious.
"Get out! Get out!" rang through Kerry's mind. It hurt. His parents were meant to protect him and love him. Why were they so cruel to him. Kerry wanted to cry but he couldn't. He had run out of tears.
Some teens, most likely about his age, passed by on the other si
Profile- Drake KingsonProfile- Drake Kingson7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Name: Drake Kingson
Nickname: Sometimes his buddies call him "Bull-boy," which Drake hates (he's quick to point out he has no bovine in his family).
Socioeconomic level: Middle-class
Birth date: April 18
Birth place: A... hospital in the suburbs.
Describe their dwelling/house: Your typical 2-bedroom house, clean and well-kept. Has an air of "keeping up with the Joneses."
Occupation: Student at the all-boy private school. Is also the star pitcher of the baseball team and quarterback of the football team.
Hobbies/Pastimes: sports of all types, paint-ball, practicing at the shooting range, reading mysteries, playing video games.
Talents/Skills: Very talented at sports, particularly aim/throwing sports like baseball and football. When he concentrates, he can be rather detail-minded, which helps him solve his mys
New Kid- Comic scriptPage 1New Kid- Comic script8 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Panel 1: Drake plops himself into a desk in Biology class next to his two buddies, frustrated. The three of them are your typical high school athletes, complete with matching lettermans jackets. Drake is of medium height and relatively muscular build, with spiky brown hair. He wears a garrison belt, properly aligned to the seams of his jeans and button-up shirt (its a military thing hes picked up from his dad). Tom is a bulky, broad-shouldered bloke with a dopey grin always plastered on his face. He has blonde hair and wears a sloppy shirt with a Confederate flag on it. Francis Frogboy Reiley is a lanky kid with slouching posture and bowlegs. His head is wide and his eyes are buggy, and altogether gives the impression of a frog. The classroom is a typical science classroom, although there seems to be an abundance of safety posters plastered on the walls.
Profile- Ghost FaustusProfile- Ghost Faustus7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Name: Ghost Faustus
Nickname: Other kids call him Frankenstein-boy, Ronnie calls him Patches.
Age: Has a 17-year-old body, though his actual age is unknown.
Socioeconomic level: Currently, upper middle class. (Before that, living-in-a-secret-lab class.)
Birth date: His creator-father Tierlynn let him pick his birthday, because Tierlynn didn't want Ghost to associate the day of his 'creation' as his actual birthday. Ghost chose April 6, the same as his favorite scientist, James Watson, one of the discoverers of DNA.
Birth place: His dad's lab, somewhere in Germany.
Describe their dwelling/house: A scientific laboratory, hidden away somewhere in the world (a different lab than the one he was born in). It's essentially one big lab room, with a couple of beds. (Until recently, he had shared a bed with his father)
Occupation: Student in
Creature ComfortDown into the depths of her mindCreature Comfort3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
lives a creature who's not very kind
His fangs are sharp and ready to slice
been there, done that more than thrice
This little monster isn't all that rare
he shows up in school, dreams, nightmares
The teachers always said she was out of tune
already gone but much too soon
In their thoughts they held her soul close by
made sure she was fine but hoped not to pry
Now, she's still alive, hanging by a string
a tired angel flying with only one wing
You'd think her peers would want to stop in
Take a little time to wash her of sin
Maybe tell a tale or grasp her hand
stare for a while at her wristband
As much as I'd love to tell you a lie
they never said anything but “try not to die”
Her parents, oh God, they were the worst
only came once to sit and to curse
A phone call or two, but that was the end
they were scared their little girl wasn't on mend
This made her sad, afraid of it being her fault
that she had to go and bring her life to a halt
Bloody DreamsI fell asleep to a heartbeat I couldn't feel.Bloody Dreams3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I closed my eyes and listened to my own, imagining that ours were set to the same rythmn, every finely strung pulse in a net of veins matched yours to a perfect tune.
I felt like drifting out to sea, maybe I could relearn how to breathe. Because now each breath I take feels stolen from me. The wind that sneaks in the cracks of my window whispers your secrets to me. I swear I hear your voice in it, that voice that sounds almost like you're always laughing. And the knarled branches outside look like your back, the way the segments of your spine petrude from your skin. And the thought disgusts me, as I let myself cry over broken dreams. Dreams that lay in pieces all around my floor, so that when I awake in the morning my bare feet crack and splinter them even more, and leave me scarred just the same.
Fix it with holesFix it with holes1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Close your eyes, silence your cries,
grab that gun, take a breath then decide.
With nothing left said, write it in red,
on the wall, with the ink in your head.
NothingI used to be lightning.Nothing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Power surged beneath my skin,
and in the silence, I heard myself thrum.
I used to be fire.
I burned bright inside, stellar lungs,
and in the cold, I sang myself warm.
Still and dark.
My stone sinews crack.
I am vacuum, deep void of space.
Asteroid dust, floating.
IncompetenceIncompetence: A Half-Baked TaleIncompetence2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She disappears in a puff of smoke and leaves me standing there
In a dress of the palest gossamer, with fancy curling hair.
I take a step—my slippers pinch—“Oh dear, they’re slightly small―”
But the coachman interrupts me: “Come! We cannot miss the ball!”
He grins at me with buck teeth as he stands by the carriage door;
I climb inside; my slippers sink in the spongy, slippery floor.
The seat is slightly sticky, leaving pumpkin on my palms,
But the coachman cries, “Hooray! We’re off!” and waves excited arms.
The carriage starts with a painful lurch and soon we’re rolling fast;
I close my eyes and pray it holds together to the last.
My hair is shaken loose; I bump my head, my hand, my knee,
And I wonder if that fairy passed her Magic Arts degree.
Along we jump and jerk and jolt; I’m flung from side to side;
The carriage comes to a screeching halt to end our breakneck ride.