BatB-Stop hating Prince AdamBatB-Stop hating Prince Adam4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Why you hate Prince Adam so much, while you always love Beast so much?
You always complain that Adan should change back into Beast becuase according to you "Prince Adam is Ugli!!1!!" "He looks bETTER as a BeAsT!"!!" "The Beast is more cute and flufly"!"!"!, "he looks like Raoul, whi I despise both I depise very mUCH!!":!"!, or becuase the Beast looks "sexier", "hot", "better looking" than his "boring" human form (or for you that "thing")
Hello! Did you missed the whole damn point of the movie?!?!
The narrator said
..."Not to be deceived by appearences, for beauty is found within."
I don't hate the Beast, but can you please accept his human form? Besides Beast/Adam and his servants have been enchanted for too long...don't you think is very cruel (or very heartless) to force them to stay enchanted forever just becuase "according" to you their human forms are "ugly, "boring" "uninteresting" while their enchanted form
A Dust of SnowSnow was the great purification. All of the dark places of the land dotted with coated trees were blanketed by mother snows cold hand. The earth was softer in winter, in white. It was sleeping soundly beneath the coverlets where only wolves, rabbits and deer went tuttering by leaving their trails and magic.A Dust of Snow2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The girl’s cheeks had long turned chill-burnt red, polished and bright as two crisp autumn apples. They burned in the pale of her skin in the moonlight. In some other time, her lips as red as hearts and her hair as dark as raven’s wings might have stirred a poem. But the eerie mingling of fear and desire glass coating her brown eyes made her seem a mad, mad straw creature than a beauty.
The snow was deep and it bit to the knee, sometimes keeping her stuck in place. Frostbite tingled, a small sting at first and now a sharp bite in her feet; fingers. Her mittens had been swiped by a lashing pine, a boot kept by unforgiving drift. Her dress cold and wet.
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’mExpiration1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
Strawberries in the WinterMy momma once said that it was impossible-Strawberries in the Winter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That trying to grow strawberries
In a room that murdered light
Was like telling a girl to live without love
Or demanding a fish to breathe midair.
Still, a week later
A pot of dirt found its home
On a desk in that room,
Daring to flirt with the color green.
Everyday a lamp was hit,
Life support was turned on,
And Thoreau was born to fight.
I told myself,
No more would the fat guy need surgery
Just to blend into an ocean of hypocrites
That would tide in and out of his “in security”.
No more would the nerd girl
Need tights that cut her once living legs
Because the boy she’s been watching
Only likes ladies that cost him a dollar,
Possibly fifty cents more
For something he can tell his friends.
No more would the emo boy
Take out wet stained knives
Because people don’t understand that once
A loved one has their face smashed
-Broken against a pavement-
It’s a little bit harder to feel your heart
And all you want is a si
I need YouI need to feel your touchI need You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I need to love you
I need to hear your heart beat
and to always hear your voice
You lighten up my world
You bring happiness within my life
I need to be with you
to always have smiles on my face
I need you here
I need you there
I need you with all my heart
cause without you I am nothing
I need you to want me
I need you to love me
Cause I will always love you
deep within me
I always want to show you
I always want to be here for you
I need you to be with me
cause without you, I am nothing
So love me forever
love me always
For with you in my life
There will always be love
I need to feel your touch
To hear your voice
I need to always be with you
Cause my love, you complete my world
you can't have the world.i never meantyou can't have the world.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to make you
i only wanted
you not to
TonightBring me to lifeTonight1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
With your touch.
Love me now,
Forget me later.
Set me on fire
With your lips,
Into my soul.
At least for tonight,
Let me feel again.
Paper-Thin Promisesthe first time I caught sight of yourPaper-Thin Promises1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statue, a prison,
a tasteless reproduction of a child's Heaven
but you are no museum.
you may hang yourself in gilded frames,
forcing masses to silence with obscurity,
but that does not make you a hallowed hall.
no, I fear you're no Metropolitan.
you look at me, daring to think you understand.
your words trickle from my lips like a waterfall
as you tell m
Moonlit NocturneThere was blood on my hands when I played the piano for you that day.Moonlit Nocturne5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was the same street piano on the corner of the park that we used to play in, outracing the butterflies that gathered around the roses that grew there. We used to pretend we could fly like them, dancing from petal to petal, free from the world's cruelties. So happy. So naive.
A skid of a wheel had changed all that.
That day, your butterfly wings had been torn out of their sockets. They joined a long list that had been stuffed into jars over the centuries, to be ogled over by Death, the sadistic collector who never failed when it was our turn to submit. You were captured too early, too soon, but there was nothing I could do. I was on the piano, playing your nocturne, when you crossed the busy road. Blood sprayed, horns screamed and I turned to see you flung over a windscreen, unmoving.
There was a funeral, of course. There were tears, but none slid down my face that day.
I saved it for the piano.
You should have see
MalnoirMalnoirMalnoir1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
It is very possible, as humans, to lose ourselves in a good book. It happens randomly, and can occur on the first page or the last, and often times breaking out of the hypnotic trance is near impossible. It’s an addiction of sorts, reading, and it’s also the greatest talent than mankind has every developed. But nowadays, as my body begins to give out from age and I find myself cooped in my apartment, reading to pass the time, I often wonder if the books can lose themselves in us. As we read them they stare back at us and watch and think and ponder and admire the human form. But we often find ourselves too enthralled to notice the words that seem to be talking to us, the sentences so bizarre that they couldn’t possibly be directed at a character in the book, but must instead be directed at an individual reader. I often wonder this as my body begins to fail me, as life begins to abandon my soul, leaving it for atrophy, and I can’t help but think of my olde
Zutara - Scars Chapter 2Zutara - Scars Chapter 2Zutara - Scars Chapter 25 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
That night around the fire I handed out food to the others with Momo on my shoulder. Everyone was talking quietly to their neighbor when Zuko stepped into the room. Everyone looked at him except Toph who eyes stayed forward.
"Look everybody, I got some really bad news," he said and I raised an eyebrow. "I lost my stuff."
"Don't look at me," Toph raised her hands in innocence then crossed them across her chest. "I didn't touch your stuff."
"I'm talking about my firebending, its gone."
I couldn't help but laugh in his vulnerable state. "I'm sorry, I'm just laughing at the irony, You know how it would have been nice for us if you lost your firebending a long time ago." I didn't try to make my words sound kind, in fact I hoped he took offence to it.
But he didn't really get angry, "It's not lost. It's just weaker for some reason."
"Maybe you're not as good as you think you are," once again my words were harsh.
There was silence and I tried not to grin as
Second Street El stands under muted chrome lights, legs splayed apart and left hip cocked out like the jagged end of a lipstick smear. The soft undercurrent of voices drifts from the club crowd up to the stage, quiet murmured conversations below the chink of glasses and clicks of the mike stand slotting into place. If she listens close enough she can almost hear the bare echoes of a young man's laugh, a woman's soft tinkling sigh, the swell of a family's conversation.Second Street3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"All ready," the man before her grunts around the toothpick hanging out the corner of his sun-cracked mouth. El reaches a hand over to tug at the length of color-faded silk knotted around her left wrist, stepping forward to take the place he vacates. The same hand rises to wrap around the cold silver shaft, glossed lips parting as she ghosts them towards the microphone.
The crowd has dropped in volume, calm falling over the haphazardly arranged three-legged stools and half-rickety tables. It's a quiet she's felt
BallerinaIn the morning, your feet are dancing,Ballerina4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
White feet, I would like you to kiss all the time.
I still hear the silent steps, to my ears like a rhyme,
When I think, that I can't posses them, I'm despairing.
Divides us a ten-centimeter wall,
I'm looking for holes to feel your scent, queen of silk.
My beloved lady, are you made of milk?
What shall I do, that you finally heard my call?
Next to you, my ballerina, with a guitar in hand, I'm nothing,
Since we are separated by centimeters, but this is a really big hole.
Show your swans heart to the egoist, because I stand against a wall like a bole.
I'm afraid, that when I scream "I love you", I never hear your dance again, my darling.
What I Can Learn From YouDon't tell me what you don't like.What I Can Learn From You4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I'm not interested.
Because what you don't like is
simply what you don't understand.
Instead tell me what you do like.
Because that is what you understand.
That is what I can learn from you.
A Promise She Made With DeathShe was conceived on the edge of a mirror,A Promise She Made With Death4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lined with pretty white lace,
that burned the inside of her parents' nostrils.
She was born with a hole in her heart,
that the doctor's never noticed,
and no one bothered to fill.
She met Death on the playground,
when kindergarten was bending her bones.
Enticed by the glinting of his scythe,
as it preyed on a malformed baby rabbit.
She made a pinky promise with him,
swearing that she'd never forget his face.
He came and went,
swayed by corpse breaths
and east-coast winds,
but always leaving her alone.
He showed her how to hurt,
in the worst kind of way.
And each time,
he paid her a visit,
he'd take someone back with him.
She often asked where he would go,
when his curled claws would drag her mother,
and every love she'd ever fallen for,
into the darkness that he crawled from.
All he'd say,
was that she'd find them again someday,
and that he would take her to them, personally.
But as February,
of her fourteenth year,
Let Your Daughter Be a PirateLet your daughter be a pirateLet Your Daughter Be a Pirate1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
if she asks for a wooden sword
help her build her ship from empty boxes
and sail the vast backyard
because a box doesn’t only
have to store dead dreams
and she is so much more
than just a vessel.
Let your daughter be Robin Hood,
if she wants to be an anarchist,
a hero, a rebel, a rogue,
give her bows, and arrows,
let her fight for the plight of poorer folk
because Robin isn’t just a boy’s name.
Let your daughter be a princess
locked in a tower so high
let her be her own prince,
don’t tell her to wait for a hundred years,
let her swing from her own hair
and grasp her own freedom.
Let your daughter be whatever she wants
especially when she’s young
and you’ll be enamoured by
the woman she becomes.
Runna's Shoe, Chapter 2: The Coming DarknessXeras pulled on the reins at just the right time to keep the horse on track after rounding a corner, Runna sitting beside her. "My aunt's name is Silvita." Not long after the dwarf's admission about her missing shoe, the conversation had turned to Xeras and her son. Despite their best attempts to keep their business private, the blue woman had recognised Leolamin's symptoms as that of a disease that could prove deadly if left untreated. The dwarf's attention had turned on the two humans in full, and while Xeras kept some things private, she admitted that they were heading for Mirabar. Genuine concern had shone through on the strangers' faces and they'd offered to escort them.Runna's Shoe, Chapter 2: The Coming Darkness1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
Normally, Xeras wouldn't accept such help. She'd always managed on her own, and just because they'd helped her against the orcs didn't mean they were friends. Xeras preferred to play it safe, and this group might attract more trouble than they were worth. It wasn't until Leolamin fainted from the combination of hi
curioushis parents called him will, a condensed version for william. to me, "will" was the constant friday nights of his curved thighbone in the midnight air against mine, and scintillating neon lights and 80's music that were etched inside our pupils like crossfires.curious2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
david bowie was singing to me through my headphones, and i mumbled to him about will and my uneven forehead, (my skin wasn't clear anymore, either) and how will and i held hands in public restaurants and how my lips were so chapped that they peeled when we first kissed-- but i was seventeen, i had purple constellations doodled on my french homework, and during algebra class i sketched green eyes with thick black eyelashes that were distinctly his.
their expectations of you were standard by their own means--they wanted a husky boy with aftershave smeared on the palms on his hands, and on saturdays they imagined you with black oil decorated on your cheeks like a lit up christmas tree holding up your hands and furiously kicking <i>
Fingernails, Please“Fingernails, please.”Fingernails, Please11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The girl smacked her gum, fussed with her hair a little, and turned her attention back to her phone. After a few seconds she glanced up again, clearly irritated: “Well?”
“Right. Um.” Thomas suppressed the urge to look at the fingernails she was currently wearing. “Color?”
“Green. Do you have something in a sort of limey chartreuse, maybe?”
“Uh, yeah, the list's over here –” But his customer had turned her full attention back to the phone, and was clearly ignoring him. Thomas cleared his throat. “Do you want lime, or chartreuse?”
“Uh... yeah, lime. Sure.”
Thomas winced. The long ones were always worst. “I'll be right back.”
He had 18 mm lime in stock, still in their larval stage, pale and wriggling under the blue light of the stasis chamber. He tried hard not to look at them too closely as he de
Reverse PoemI will never be accepted by my peersReverse Poem1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because it’s a lie to say that
It is my right to be an original person
My flaws do not define me
Is a lie
I am not beautiful
I am not perfect
Because I refuse to believe that
I am worth it
I have no power over my destiny
And I am lying when I say that
I believe in myself
Because of my skin, hair, and tastes
I should be an outcast
And I refuse to believe
Someone can understand me
If they just listen to me
My size matters
And no one can convince me that
I am pretty without makeup, fashionable clothing, or attention
And we will never love ourselves if we believe that these stereotypes define us
Fairy Tale“Accept my hand, and give share of your land, or I will be forced to enforce my demand” said he, who beneath his hideous mask, watched her intensely.Fairy Tale3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
With frown, she met his eyes of brown, “Tis not my land to which I can give share, cannot your request be more fair?”
His mouth of grin, fell down and pulled thin, “Defiant Lizard Queen! One more time will I ask thee. Do not refuse me twice, for I will not make this offer thrice!”.
Kneeling before her to take her hand, was her loyal but withering, second-in-command.
“Your majesty,” he addressed her gently, “be not intimidated nor fooled; for you are the last true sovereign of this Kingdom your great father built and ruled. We, your humble people, who indeed hail you as both our Queen and King; beseech you to consider the suffering his people will surely bring”.
“Fear not my most trusted friend, for I will not be the one to bring my families reign to an end”.