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Crimson Obsession
homo sum; humani nihil mihi alienum est
Interesting meme I got from emerald_embers 
23rd-Jul-2006 11:20 pm
[Evo] O rly?

most of my flist are writers with a few artists tossed in. and although i don't always comment on your posts, i do (mostly) always read them. i do, however, notice styles, details, certain turns of phrase that are uniquely...you. or at least i think i do.

that being said, i thought it would be fun if you, as a writer, would indulge me by writing a few paragraphs--ANONYMOUSLY--in a comment and let me try to guess who you are. just be yourself as hard as you can be and write some fiction, be it fanfiction or original works.


I'm really not good at this sort of thing, but it looked like fun anyway!
Comments 
24th-Jul-2006 06:34 am (UTC)
Anonymous
2D slowly turned...and sucked a cock.

Then he went ass to mouth.
24th-Jul-2006 06:46 am (UTC)
24th-Jul-2006 06:52 am (UTC)
Anonymous
At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a playground.
There was a slide in the corner, hot, pale plastic gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Despite the heat, a line of children had already formed behind it, bickering and shoving one another into position. A few were occupied on a set of ancient swings, happily screaming as they collided into one another. At the forefront of the little childhood oasis was a basketball court, surrounded by yards of unmarked blacktop. A few children amused themselves by drawing simple pictures with their colored chalk. They did not get far, as a game broke out around them, older children shouting orders back and forth over the noise of rubber shoes and rustling garments. One child tripped over a weed growing through the winding cracks in the court. He scraped against the ground, crying out. As he did so, the plant, seemingly of its own volition, wrenched itself free of the earth, flying across the playground to crush itself against a wall.

At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a playground, yet, if one looked closer, one could see that, though those two on the slide were laughing, neither spoke. That, though the children on the swings moved easily back and forth on their ride, they did not move their legs, nor did anyone push them along. If one looked hard enough, one could catch glimpses of the truth; a stick of chalk moving precariously along on its own, faces engaged in silent conversation, and, even, a dive to catch a falling team member before the child even stumbled over his too-large pants. Then, one noticed the guards. Posted every ten feet along a thick concrete wall twice the height of any man, there was no visible exit from the playground, save a door in the side of the building, which periodically opened of its own accord.

(Sort of long, but I couldn't bear to cut it down... I'm sorry! Good luck!)
24th-Jul-2006 06:57 am (UTC)
Ooh, interesting paragraphs! Tough too...si_end_ght?
24th-Jul-2006 07:35 am (UTC)
;) ha! it's not me! but damn... I'm honored/sort of creeped out because it reads like something I'd write.
24th-Jul-2006 07:03 pm (UTC)
Anonymous
(Here's a hint!)

Their weapons clashed, the stronger fighter pushing the weaker back against the wall. Purple eyes flashed as their owner gave a terrific heave, struggling to push the other off of him, to allow him to try and fight back. His opponent gave a wry smile. Almost instantly after the facial expression vanished, the other fighter backed up, letting him move again. He moved back to the center of the arena, narrowing his eyes. Both of them were striped of their armor, leaving them only in the traditional skirts and thin undershirts both wore during fights. Their movements no longer restricted, battles still proved to be only a slight interest to anyone other than the two fighting, as anyone could easily predict the outcome of them.

The stronger one advanced, his eyes also flashing with excitement. He knew his strength, and the other’s weaknesses. Now, he swung his bati staff with the ease of one who knew exactly what he was doing with his weapon. His opponent froze, obviously forgetting his training, purple eyes huge in his face. Trying not to roll his eyes, he swung the staff in a fluid, graceful motion, spinning the serrated, V-shaped end of it towards the other. At the last minute, his opponent snapped up the bladed end of his, barely blocking the blow in time.

Now the weaker one danced out of the way, attempting to run everything he’d been taught through his mind in order to prepare. He had to keep enough distance between himself and his opponent if he wanted to even remotely do well in this round. At the rate he was going, not even the greatest fighter could have helped him now. How could he hope to compete? It was impossible. Half-heartedly, he aimed a slow blow at his opponent’s legs, attempting to knock him down. Almost instantly, it was blocked with a neat flip of the bladed end. The same movement brought the serrated side around to freeze an antenna’s width from the purple-eyed face.
(no subject) - Anonymous - Expand
24th-Jul-2006 06:59 am (UTC)
Anonymous
“I hate this ceiling.”

Kurt’s eyes flickered open at the sound of the voice beside him. Brushing a few loose strands of hair aside, he cast his gaze upward, squinting slightly as the light from the bedside lamp, dim as it may have been, invaded his senses. He must have dozed off.

He blinked a few times as his vision came into focus, gaze met with brown-tinted plaster. The ceiling was, he decided, a ceiling; nothing special, but neither was it unpleasant. Definitely familiar. Maybe too familiar.
25th-Jul-2006 03:16 am (UTC)
melarocco? I don't knooooow ;_;
25th-Jul-2006 04:21 am (UTC) - Flattered, but no. ;)
Anonymous
Here's more:

Immediately, she was out of the swing and at his side, arm looped through his, eyebrows drawn together in worry and concern. “What do you mean? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Ja, ja, I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just…” He turned to face her, reaching up to brush a hand across her cheek. “It’s just… I’ve been…” But he stopped mid-gesture, hand dropping to his side as his gaze dropped to the ground, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. “We need to talk.”

Amanda's heart sank.
24th-Jul-2006 07:17 am (UTC)
Anonymous
"Well?"

"Well."

"What do you think?"

Many turns of phrase skipped through his mind before he finally realised; there was no turn of phrase for this. It wasn't surprising. He was fairly certain there were no recorded instances in which a man had been called into his best friend's cell by his insane roommate to find his cellmate strapped to the bed - though thankfully in a manner suggesting there'd been nothing... dodgy going on, depending on your definition of dodgy - and coated in liver.

Christ, he thought. I hope that's not human.

Said best friend looked up and attempted to say 'help' with his eyes, given parting his lips would mean getting a mouthful of raw offal.

Even Hannibal Lecter would probably have turned down this variety of meal. There weren't fava beans and a nice chianti for starters.
25th-Jul-2006 03:15 am (UTC)
Interesting imagery [snicker] This is so hard! quenya_tattoo?
(no subject) - Anonymous - Expand
24th-Jul-2006 07:41 am (UTC) - Ramble On
Anonymous
The little girl would watch, pale eyes wide with wonder, as the world seemed to spin around her. The house was old with mismatched furniture in sea greens and bright oranges and somewhat offensive teals. She thought, maybe, it went with the mismatched personalities of her grandparents, but she never asked. Those sorts of questions weren't asked there. Things were just sort of givens. And, if they weren't given, then they were ignored.

She watched her grandmother, a strong woman with lean muscles and a mean backhand on the tennis courts. Short hair, tough standards and a bluntness that couldn't be matched, not even by her youngest daughter—she was formidable in every sense of the word. Not scary, no. The grandmother had never been anything but nice to the girl. Providing things and sharing her time and being an all-around good grandparent. The girl liked her very much, even if she wasn't like the grandmother in Little Red Riding Hood. Some things were forgivable.

She watched her grandfather. A broken man with sagging skin and a hunch that betrayed his years, making him seem older than anyone had ever been before. Hiding in the corner with his crossword puzzle in hand, the girl could almost forget he was there at all. He reminded her of a ghost and that frightened her more than the grandmother ever could. It was as if he wasn't even there. Just a memory of someone that used to be there. Like he wasn't real. Not like a grandfather should be, at all.

Some nights… the bad nights, he would mumble. Words that the girl didn't understand. Couldn't understand. And then the shouts would come. Mumble, mumble, SHOUT, mumble, mumble. Everyone would flinch and go silent. Bracing themselves, just in case it happened again. Then, the chatter would resume, as if it hadn't even happened. The girl didn't understand. When she shouted, people yelled at her or tried to comfort her or… something. But they didn't ignore her. They never ignored her. But the ghost of a man, they ignored him.
25th-Jul-2006 03:10 am (UTC) - Re: Ramble On
Okay... maybe THIS is si_end_ght? XD
Re: Ramble On - Anonymous - Expand
Re: Ramble On - Anonymous - Expand
24th-Jul-2006 07:55 am (UTC)
Anonymous
He squinted blearily up at the sky, eyes hazed over and tinted pink as they often did. Any moment now they would return, and Astrid needed to be prepared. There was never any warning when they left or appeared; it was as if they did so on the most random whim. And to think, all that time wasted guessing their moves while he could have been spending it on more important things. Work, for example. He had numerous projects waiting for him in the labratory.

An explosion in the distance signalled their approach, and thoughts of work were forgotten. He'd long since given up on finding a place to hide; somehow or another, they always managed to find him. Whether it was Him, or one of what he'd grown to call His minions.

"They were mine before," He said under his breath with a light snarl. "They're mine. He can't take them from me."

On that very thought, Kent popped into view, blonde head bobbing above sacks of groceries that Astrid's creations, which Kent had grown to claim affectionately as his own "minions," carried similar stacks of bags behind him.

He peered at Astrid from behind one bag with a carless grin as Astrid's eyes shifted back to their ordinary blue. Why was it that he only managed to stay truly angry at Kent while he was gone?

"You need to stock up on groceries more often," Kent informed him matter-of-factly, dumping one bag unceremoniously in Astrid's arms. "Soon enough we'll have to break down and eat the minions."
25th-Jul-2006 03:12 am (UTC)
lacey5480?

I'm so horrible at these, I wouldn't have ever posted if I hadn't wanted to see what interesting paragraphs people would write. XD
25th-Jul-2006 02:13 pm (UTC)
Anonymous
Nope. :D
(no subject) - Anonymous - Expand
24th-Jul-2006 01:00 pm (UTC) - bending the rules =P
Anonymous
25th-Jul-2006 03:10 am (UTC) - Re: bending the rules =P
....I have NO FUCKING CLUE who drew this, but it's one of the kyootest things evah omg... *_*
26th-Jul-2006 05:49 am (UTC)
Btw, you still haven't spotted me :P, seeing as I thought I'd be generous and let you at least know one of the people working on it XD!
26th-Jul-2006 05:53 am (UTC)
I'll figure it out! Just you wait! [shakes fist ineffectually]
27th-Jul-2006 06:13 am (UTC)
*is waiting*

:P

*loves you really*

*kissysnuggles*
31st-Jul-2006 12:21 am (UTC)
Anonymous
"Lance, you gotta do something. Please."

The 'please' is what it takes for Lance to raise his head from the depths of his jeep. Glancing around the hood, he spots Todd on the ground, looking uncomfortable and unhappy and maybe just a little desperate. He's hopping in place, like he's got ants up his pants. It's odd, even for a kid as odd as Tolensky.

"What's wrong now?" Lance asks with a sigh, chewing irritably on the toothpick in his mouth.

"She's been in the bathroom for four hours!" Todd practically yells, hands clenching up into fists. "You gotta go in there and drag her out! I can't take it anymore!"

Lance frowns, glancing up at the steamed over second floor window. "I'm not going in there."

"Coward." Pietro's leaning against the jeep next to Todd where he certainly hadn't been standing half a second ago. "You like to call yourself the leader. Do your leader thing and knock down the door."

"Yeah." Freddy is the last to arrive, as usual.

"Forget it." Lance leans back into his jeep. "I am not going in there. You know what'll happen to us if we try to break down the door while she's showering? She'll kill us all in our sleep. You don't bust into a bathroom that a girl is using. Any idiot knows that, even you idiots. Besides, if you guys have to go so badly, you break down the door and leave me out of it. I'm perfectly fine."

"Perfectly fine?" Pietro asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lance grits his teeth at the other boy. "Yes. Perfectly fine."

A whoosh tousles his hair and Lance looks up again. Pietro is standing there with a pitcher of lemonade, grabbed from who knows where, pouring it into a glass.

"Thirsty?" he asks, smiling too sweetly to be believable.

Todd's whistling nearby. He's holding the garden hose, letting the water trickle out of it onto the grass. When Lance glares at him, he just shrugs. "It looked a little dry, yo."

"Coffee?" Freddy's holding the steaming cup under his nose.

Lance isn't perfectly fine anymore.

"Argh!" Lance slaps his hand over his face. "I hate all of you so much!"

Todd drops the hose, hopping back over to him. "Now will you go break down the door?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Fine." Lance squares his shoulders, looking up at the window again. Oh, they are all going to die horrible, horrible deaths, but it's getting desperate - for all of them. He takes a step toward the boarding house, which suddenly looks dark, dangerous, and foreboding.

"Wow, Lancey-baby. You look so grim. What's shaking?"

Lance freezes, then slowly turns around, seeing out of the corner of his eyes the rest of his teammates doing the same. Tabitha stands before them, perky as usual, looking cheerful and fresh as a daisy with her purse swinging lazily on her shoulder. She's also not wet.

"I thought you were in the bathroom," Lance says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the window.

Tabitha wrinkles her nose. "Yeah, like four hours ago." She follows his thumb to the window. "Oops! Did I leave the water running?"

Pietro's gone in an instant.

"God damn it!" Todd yells, bounding after him, while Freddy moves insanely fast after Todd. He catches him before he can get to the door and tries to throw him aside, getting a solid kick in the head for his trouble.

Lance growls and clenches his hands into fists, eyes rolling back in his head.

Oh, yeah. It's on.
31st-Jul-2006 12:50 am (UTC)
HAHA! This is great! And hooray for Tabby being mentioned in a fic(let)! Hm... is this mouse42?
31st-Jul-2006 12:51 am (UTC)
Who else? ;p

I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that you guessed that so easily.
2nd-Aug-2006 08:00 pm (UTC)
FYI, I'm on here. :3 *hint!*
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