| So which contests are you guys still going to try? |
| Random Number Generator, duh! |
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47% |
[ 17 ] |
| The Art one--I want 1 mil! |
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16% |
[ 6 ] |
| The writing one. Looks easy enough. |
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8% |
[ 3 ] |
| Screenshot one. I get gold regardless! |
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2% |
[ 1 ] |
| The comic one. Yay stick figures! |
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5% |
[ 2 ] |
| Several of the above. o: |
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19% |
[ 7 ] |
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| Total Votes : 36 |
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 Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 5:44 am
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 5:48 am
Okay. crying
I changed avis anyway. x3
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 5:49 am
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 5:53 am
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 6:06 am
To pass the time while I wait for laundry to be done, here's a drabble:
Puppets are not supposed to feel, and yet I do. Genuine feeling.
It started moments before my sham of a wedding and has lingered, a few steps shy of confrontation. It is an annoying addition that has driven me close to something that a puppet is, but should never succumb to: distraction.
I can't count the times he has managed to strike me, to slice me, to crack me. And worst of all: I can remember every incident with a stark clarity and even recall the feelings and sensations I experienced under his sadistic hand.
I heal, of course, but the wounds themselves leave scars. Flesh-like scars that he would no doubt remark upon if he ever bothered to look upon me without mockery and scorn. I smile to myself, a voluntary action that was becoming less and less alarming as the days pass.
My smile grows even wider as I let my fingers slide over those flesh-like imperfections that now litter my chest in a grotesque cluster. Curious that seeing such a human flaw can bring so much joy--
There is a jerk behind my shoulder and I let my hand drop along with my smile. My eyes grow blank and slowly I watch my fingers re-button my shirt. I used to never be aware of such routine matters, but now even when I feel my invisible strings, I retain a consciousness.
Puppets are not supposed to be conscious, and yet, I am. Genuinely conscious.
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 6:51 am
Another because laundry is taking forever:
I never understood why my brethren snickered whenever I was sent out in a mission in a pretty frock. I saw nothing wrong with wearing something aesthetically pleasing and complimentary to ones complexion. Besides, there was something liberating about having less fabric confining the legs and there was an elegance to the way the fabric fell and swirled at every step.
I didn't see it very different from the cassocks we had to wear or the occasional monks robe, really. One was simply more extravagant than the other.
I've used this line of reasoning many times whilst I was still allowed free movement within the Church, only to meet with smiles and pats on the head of shoulder that were supposed to be either pity or amusement amongst the humans. I was a puppet, a doll, what did I know about humans, they would think. They didn't have to say it out loud for me to understand, I've heard it often enough from foes and allies alike.
Not that I resented such statements. After all, they are founded in fact. I don't understand humans and have never seen the necessity to understand them more than required for my occupations.
But that brings me at present to the slim number now in my hands. I regard it and find myself (much to my very unpuppet-like chagrin) disturbed at the thought of even putting it on. My gaze travels from the garish, pink-bowed and translucent nightgown to the wide, innocent eyes of my bouncy daughter-by-marriage. She looks hopeful and cheerful and I find that I am having a hard time voicing my surprising reluctance.
"Are you certain you want me wearing this for your papa?" I ask again, my eyebrows climbing at her vehement nod and smile.
I briefly wonder if it belonged to the demon's former lover, but stop my line of thought almost immediately, feeling my stomach churn and twist in protest at the mere thought of me putting on anything that the demon might've once liked. Instead, I let my thoughts travel back to the days where I could easily have tea and debate the merits of knowing how to put on a gown and wig in the most aesthetically pleasing and deceiving way with my brethren.
It seems I had belatedly grown to understand just why they always smiled and shook their heads in pity at my lack of understanding. Sometimes a female item of clothing just isn't meant for a male to wear.
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Jennivieve generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
561!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 7:18 am
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Jennivieve generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
467!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 7:57 am
Although many dresses actually do constrict movement a bit, whereas slacks allow for a full range of movement.
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Irothz generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
360!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:30 am
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:32 am
Thanks and thank you again for the entry to my contest! ^^
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Jennivieve generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
778!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:35 am
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TeaShell generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
62!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 9:43 am
Oh thank you, I thought I was the only one who's gonna explose like nuclear missile hitting on enemy base and leaving a fallout from nuclear crying
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TeaShell generated a random number between
1 and 1000 ...
864!
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 9:45 am
Or being like a vaccuum imploder from resident evil 4- afterlife...
crying
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