How to Win an ArgumentEveryone gets into arguments at some point in their life. Electronic communication receptacles are no exception. If anything, one is more -likely- to find that it is easier to become embroiled in an online argument than anything else.How to Win an Argument5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
1. CAP THAT If there's one sure-fire way to make a point stronger, it's typing in ALL CAPS. Considering that there are many instances when sound can't travel over the net, one must find the next best available way to be heard. This "next best" way is through "shouting," which just happens to be done online through typing in CAPS. Just like screaming, shouting, and general tantrum-throwing in real life, this method is a highly efficient method of making sure that your point gets across and makes you seem ten thousand times more valid and understandable. Additionally, it makes your argument come on more forcefully and shows the opposition you mean "serious fucking shit" with your side of things.
After all, loud noises work with dogs and small
Mark of Merlin, PrologueThe piercing cries of the newborn's screams rang into the dark forest, sparking interest to the scurrying mice and the brooding owl perched by the hut. It ascended to the skies above and towards the heavens. The night marked the sign of January's arrival, of when the year would be born anew. The lands had already been cursed with winter's breath, as the trees had turned barren and Britain was flooded in a never-ending sea of white.Mark of Merlin, Prologue4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The night also marked the bringing of a new soul into the world: a boy. He was only hours old, cradled in the arms of the elderly woman. She did what she could to coo him silent, but it only made him scream louder, tiny fists clenched in frustration. The old woman rubbed her wrinkled thumb down his cheek, silently envying the child's smooth skin while she was doomed to die an ugly hag. How she hated the children... so beautiful... so precious...
A choked groan snapped the elder from her thoughts, turning her head to the pallid young woman sprawled about the
Candy and I - LegacyCleaning the attic was simply one of those chores that was both tiring and invigorating all at once. On one hand, it was a long and exhausting process, pulling out boxes, throwing things away, cleaning The boring dull jobs no-one really enjoys. On a more positive side, if you stored memories in the attic, it was a place of wonderful way to find them again and reminisce.Candy and I - Legacy4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
That was Carys's main focus today. To search through and clean her attic, hoping for hold memories to resurface. It would be nice to just remember the old times, no matter what they were. Pulling an old box towards her, she opened it up, only to find old Christmas decorations in there. Shaking her head slightly, Carys glanced up as a small voice caught her attention.
"Mum, what's this?"
Pulling herself to her feet, the thirty-three year old walked over to her six year old daughter and smiled, bending down beside her. Wide blue eyes looked up at her, and the young brunette girl held out an old doll, which Carys took
HanamiI sit up alone at night and reflect back on what we shared,Hanami7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
life remains torture without you, sakura, leaving my soul bared.
Watching you fall in love again, seeing your face light up with a smile,
it breaks me deeply within, but yet I still bathe in it for a long while.
My damned selfish pride always seems to do me in,
how am I though so fortunate still to be called 'friend.'
Would you still come with me, that is, if we took flight
into the air in an authentic chopper, like we did one late night?
Am I being foolish, sweet Bellina, am I asking for far too much?
Is my hearty yearning still for your simple, yet gentle touch?
Oh God, maybe I truly am in still a state of utter denial!
Perhaps I should secure my soul and hide it into a vial.
So many tears have fallen no doubt since that day,
Please know that it's not your fault, Bellina, when I went away.
Happiness emits from you for anyone that you shall meet,
like some sweet ambrosial nectar, you are truly a pleasing treat.
The Deviant's DictionaryThe Deviant's Dictionary10 years ago in Humor More Like This
$- A title that commands respect, such as "Sir," "Duke," or "Bass Master." Also: ', @, ^, #, %, and +
Adoptee- A subspecies of deviant, which attach themselves to larger predators, much like remoras or temporary tattoos.
Anime- One of the most thriving, fastest-growing religions in the world today.
Avatar- The tiny, tiny window in the computer screen, though which a deviant may look at the outside world.
Community- A safe haven where like minds can gather, free from the prying and oppressive eyes of the outside world, to talk about how sexy Jack Sparrow is.
Constructive criticism- Any comment that does not involve the words "dood," "teh," "poop" or "gay." Any replies made to constructive criticism will contain all four.
Dark Art- Pictures of various pale women with too much eye makeup. May or may not be bleeding from somewhere.
Deviant- Once thought to exist only in myth, the wild deviant has recently been found thriving in variou
it is not enoughit is not enough just toit is not enough7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
miss you. i have to learn
how to walk again; how to
live without meat and
kissing, how to sleep
shaped like a balled up
fist. it is not enough
just to miss you. i have
to adopt twins in
Africa, name them Lost
and Weird, forget to
feed them. i have to
go to every pet store
in America and rescue
all the seahorses. i have
to tattoo D A R K B I R D
inside my lip and stand
in children's playgrounds
like a broken arm, creaking. it
is not enough just to miss
you. it has to hurt. i
have to write poems
that last forever, interpret
dreams about buildings
burning down, flies who
leave their partners for
sad New York waitresses. i
have to work on my
posture. shave my head, wear
white dresses. i have to
be a chaffinch when i curse
into my fingers. it is not
enough to just miss you. i
have to be a crazy
crocus-woman; my lovely
hand curled close around
your heart, a bud sealed
tightly, tightly, tightly...
AlptraumeMy body tenses, I cannot fall asleep,Alptraume7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
but rest I need desperately lest I grow weak.
Yet I am plagued by nightmares about you,
unable to rescue your life when I try to do.
My emerald eyes look upon your carefree face,
I wish my family (aside Mother) would not see you as a disgrace.
Taking your calming hand, you softly do squeeze mine,
if everyone would leave us be, we would be fine.
Tormented once more, plagued by the Alpträume again,
GET out of my head! -- I wish not to bear this sinister dread!
I awoke myself with an unheard (by all) scream,
and then told myself it had been nothing more than a dream.
Medders Thesis: pt 2 - Akko, the City on the PlainMedders Thesis: pt 2 - Akko, the City on the Plain2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
§ Akko, the City on the Plains §
Stranger, let me tell you of the Akko that I remember, the Akko of so many years ago that disappeared in my absence.
The city stood upon a great stretch of plains of white and yellow that rolled out in carpets from the city wall. The land I knew was fragile, yet fertile enough to dye the hills green with shrubs and trees when the seasons called for it. The rolling hills and near mountains to the east are plotted with farming lands that bring food to the city. To the west runs a great length of beach with sands of gold and deep ochre.
A great wall encompassed the city limits like a great stone sash. I pray often that if only those walls would have stayed the Franks’ advance all those years ago when they first besieged my home. I was not born when the infidels first came into this city, but I survived the battles that pushed them out and the battle that brought them back. My brother broke his back during the second siege. He broke und
Kroshka Moia, Chapter SevenChapter SevenKroshka Moia, Chapter Seven4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Three hours had come and gone. The wounded were finally transported away from the town in a long parade of vehicles, and with them left the many recommendations for the Iron Cross. From the distance, scattered civilians watched on as the soldiers took leave of the town, frowns plastered amongst their faces; in less than a day, a town they took years to build and cultivate had become nothing more than a poor man's land. The Opel Blitz, to their chagrin, was damaged in the battle, and while most of the supplies were spared, others were not so lucky. Upon inspection, twelve tents were mangled beyond repair, Meine's and Max's included. For substitution, they were instead given a single blanket.
The unit found shelter among the dense woods, placing the Opel and Kübelwagen a hundred feet from their campsite and slopping together average camouflage upon the patched tarp. Silent, the men set up the tents, taking care to watch for any one glimpse of the French Resistan
Le Paradis99. One less than 100.Le Paradis3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The surrounding country side of waving grass rattled and wheezed; but the hedgerows blocked the light wind of the early morning from hitting Him. The small mound of hill that rose up behind the back of the barn cradled the building in its embrace and the wet smell of upturned dirt wafted around the area. All dressed in brown dyed wool that scratched against their knees and elbow creases, just like his did. They had come to rest here in front of the farm after having been marched down some miles of road with their hands on their heads and their guns stripped of their holsters. There was dried blood and bandages amongst the mass of men, the smell of defeat hung upon their muddied boots.
He gazed at them over the rim of His silver glasses and remained silent as the grave like he always was. He had been ordered to stand here with one of the machine gun teams as He seemed the perfect candidate.&
Murdering Mary SueMurdering Mary SueMurdering Mary Sue7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Every aspiring writer has met her at least once, whether in his own works or in those of others. The alluring temptation of a perfect character taunts the author from one side while his muse urges him to keep writing from the other. Who wouldn't love her? She's the most beautiful, talented, fantastic woman in the universe, with not a flaw in sight. Every woman wants to be her; every man wants to marry her, so why would anyone want to kill her? Who would want to murder Mary Sue?
I would. I and many greater authors have been working hard to keep this succubus in her proper place: the trash can. Mary Sue is one of the worst enemies of good fiction, second only to poor spelling and grammar. And the seductress tempts even the most cautious writer. Her many disguises can make her difficult to spot, allowing her to weave her way into every plot twist and turn, slowly destroying the author's work. By the time shes found, she may have done so much damage that the
The DoctorWhen I was seven, I was diagnosed with emotions.The Doctor3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Poor girl." I heard them say. "She'll never survive this one."
I laid with my face towards the ceiling on the cold examination table, listening to them discuss my fate. I felt something breaking in my chest and something burning inside my throat. A small tear slipped down my cheek.
"Doctor! Look at this!" Shrieked my mother, "Something is coming out of her eye."
The doctor rushed over to me and wiped the tear from my cheek. He touched the top of my head as he whispered, "I am so sorry." And then he turned to my mother. "It's a tear. It means that she is sad."
"Sad?" My mother asked inquisitively.
"It's one of her emotions. This doesn't attack the same way that normal diseases do, there are all sorts of different symptoms. Right now, she is sad and the only way that I know how to explain it is that she is feeling down."
"What do you mean by down?"
"Her emotions can best be described as ones that are upwhen she is feeling good, and
Kroshka Moia, Chapter NineChapter NineKroshka Moia, Chapter Nine4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It wasn't the buzzing of the blinding fluorescent lights above that awoke him; it wasn't the dead rain splattering onto the window across the room, nor was it the voices at his bedside who clearly knew nothing about whispering. His face stirred, his arm shifted above the white sheet outlining his still frame. Somewhere, the ticking of a clock quivered to his ears and a blanch rank climbed up his nostrils. He wanted to clog up his nose and cough and hack, but his body lay there, unresponsive.
"I just got here; how long has he been like this?"
"Since about a week ago, when they brought him in. These 'doctors' performed another surgery on him last night..."
"That's the third one...!"
"Did they even say what happened? Has anyone been able to contact his family?"
His fingers twitched ever so slightly, the muscles limp. The voices, how familiar they sounded! The three continued their banter and went on to demand a doctor to speak to them. He could barely grasp their n
Beautiful Old WintertideThe snowflakes fall and prance, blanketing the evenings black night,Beautiful Old Wintertide6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
By morning, they will bring to childrens faces, pleasure with sheer delight.
Weeks to come and weeks will begin to shorten quicker and yet they will grow,
Sending smiles to young and old as they see the world blanketed with snow.
Though my heart yearns for these things, somehow they go astray,
Confuddled by the longings of what I remember from olden yesterdays.
I long for to dance in the bliss, to frolic and to truly remember,
For to recall those days past from yesteryears Decembers.
Times are passing us and we have somehow sadly have forgot,
What those memories and thoughts did so rightly taught.
Memories of warmth, of joy, of happiness, of even blessed tears,
Should ever be replaced by man or beast or nature through the years.
What I want for Christmas, it doesnt come in packages or strings,
It doesnt take knowledge or know a path to fly on its wings.
The belief that someone you loved d
The old man in the park There's an old man sitting on a bench in the park.The old man in the park2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A scruffy dog by his feet, on his lips a witty remark.
Not a tooth in his mouth, but he smiles anyway.
And if you ask him why, this is what he will say:
“I have a song in my head, and a smile on my face.
I have lived a full life of both sorrow and grace.
I have love so plenty, and stories to share.
And I live my life without a worry or care.”
His wrinkles are a map of a long, lasting life.
Of hard work, three sons, and a now deceased wife.
His hearing may be bad, and his vision turning grey.
But if you ask him, this is what he will say:
“I have seen my share of wonders, my friend
And I will hear the songs in my heart to the end.
So what need have I for these senses, I ask?
If they fail me, my memories shall rise to the task.”
The old dog by his side gives a soft little whine.
Licking his hand as if to tell him it is time.
He smiles and stands, shakes my hand for goodbye.
Then wanders off with a twink
Darkness falls across the landHiding from you, hearing your screams of terror tear me apart,Darkness falls across the land7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Disturbed that this comes from the man who stole my heart.
You lied to me, telling me you really love me and did care,
What kind of fool was I to believe, only to be ensnared!?
It is inevitable that I must feel this monstrous pain,
No longer can I trust the race of man ever again.
Lucius, how could you?! I attest and feel this rage,
I cannot help but feel as though I am an animal in your cage.
What is next in the tale of the one named Lucinda the fair?
Is she to return back to your hellish, devils liar?
Alas, we are sorely mistake if either believes that I will return unto you,
For you have broken my heart, shattered it in two.
I am to return home back to the lands of Wiltshire fair,
When the countryside is lush and God knows I need the air.
Goodbye, Lucius, your secret will forever be with me,
Though I will grow older and look happy, I truly will never be free.
No mercy no more. . .From my alabaster skin I feel wings spurting from my back,No mercy no more. . .7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
ready to shield me from your death-blowing, hellish attack.
Blood trickles, falling slowly, staining something of me that should be pure,
I cry out in agony, wondering if I will be able to live and endure?
When they are finally formed, I see them and notice they are of a silver hue,
much more different than the crimson ones that belong solely unto you.
My heart is still driven and sorely wishes to believe that what you are is not true,
but I know if I continue to believe this, there is more damage that I know you will do.
Your blade of death twinkles in the very sight and in eve of moonlight,
sending those you prey before they die into a frenzy of fright.
Lucius, I am not the one who left for you to eventually die,
how come then, am I to be your latest one of victims, why, oh why?
Leave those who I care about out of our sorrid affair, pray tell,
for they have no bearing of our version of what we call Hell.
I will defeat you and
Six Feet Deep: Chapter 2Six Feet Deep: Chapter 22 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Six Feet Deep: Chapter 2
Alik Laryn slammed the alarm clock off the next morning with a harsh fist to clanger between the two bells. After that, his palm instantly went to his eye to try and rub away the sleep form his eyes and the slight pang of another night spent wallowing in one too many glasses of bourbon. If the Major every caught him doing that he would have his position sorely compromised, so he kept his drinking to himself. Even in mornings like this one where it did come up to bite him, he would still tell himself that it was perfectly acceptable to have a few hits of the bottle to relax.
He needed the shower this morning. It would have to be a cold one too for him to help clear his foggy head. He always had to shower. When he was closer to the front line after landing in France, he still always had to try and get his one shower a day. If he did not, he would start to panic if it went longer than 48 hours without him being clea