@Oceanas
Been stalking this thread and I would love the slot.
Been stalking this thread and I would love the slot.
Art Sales
For commissions and flat-sale of your creative efforts.
TOPIC | PWYW grab bag writing [closed]
@Sacnite
[Hope this works for you! Enjoy. c:]
Life is a puzzle and you are the gamesmaster. Life is a web and you are the spider sitting at the center. Life is a cup of tea and you are the poison it’s spiked with.
Oh, but it is all so [i]fragile[/i].
You are sick with longing for something more solid. Subtle strings of influence are easily snipped; power wanes so quickly. What’s a gamesmaster when the game is over? Or the spider when it’s under the shoe? What is the poison in the tea when it’s been poured out? You must always be ready to play the game, to make another move or place another piece.
But then -- who are you if there is nothing left to control?
At midnight, when the world is quiet and the games are done, tell me what is left. Tell me what you are so determined to save that you would break others just to see yourself whole. What are you so in love with? All your gifts are weapons; you hone them only so you can use them against someone else. What good is a shiny toy or a trophy on a shelf?
You need others, if only to give yourself something to look at. Reflected in them, you are powerful. Reflected in them, you are magnificent.
You are in control. Tell yourself that, until doesn’t sound like a lie. Tell yourself that until it’s nothing but a rhythm in your blood, so subtle you never question it.
Curl your thorns around their necks. Call it living vicariously.
Call it your game. If it’s your game, then you can make the rules. If you can control the rules, you can control yourself. You can [i]win[/i]. Right?
Right?
But the gems still ripple over your skin like a living thing. They are ceaseless, seeking, so beautiful as they break you. The comet is your dark shadow, here to watch as you unravel. Death is coming. If not death, then something worse: impotence and darkness. How can a silent statue sit on a silver-tongued liar’s throne? Here is your broken coronation, Ozymandias. Here is your stability—and it is solid as stone.
This must be what you think about at midnight. You wonder who you will be when the darkness is final, when there is nothing else in the world but that. The gembond will shut your eyes and you alone will be your kingdom. Drive yourself to madness and see what you find there in yourself. Maybe it will absolve you.
King of kings—the lone and level sands will bury you in due time.
Coding (for the italics & credit):
[code]
Life is a puzzle and you are the gamesmaster. Life is a web and you are the spider sitting at the center. Life is a cup of tea and you are the poison it’s spiked with.
Oh, but it is all so [i]fragile[/i].
You are sick with longing for something more solid. Subtle strings of influence are easily snipped; power wanes so quickly. What’s a gamesmaster when the game is over? Or the spider when it’s under the shoe? What is the poison in the tea when it’s been poured out? You must always be ready to play the game, to make another move or place another piece.
But then -- who are you if there is nothing left to control?
At midnight, when the world is quiet and the games are done, tell me what is left. Tell me what you are so determined to save that you would break others just to see yourself whole. What are you so in love with? All your gifts are weapons; you hone them only so you can use them against someone else. What good is a shiny toy or a trophy on a shelf?
You need others, if only to give yourself something to look at. Reflected in them, you are powerful. Reflected in them, you are magnificent.
You are in control. Tell yourself that, until doesn’t sound like a lie. Tell yourself that until it’s nothing but a rhythm in your blood, so subtle you never question it.
Curl your thorns around their necks. Call it living vicariously.
Call it your game. If it’s your game, then you can make the rules. If you can control the rules, you can control yourself. You can [i]win[/i]. Right?
Right?
But the gems still ripple over your skin like a living thing. They are ceaseless, seeking, so beautiful as they break you. The comet is your dark shadow, here to watch as you unravel. Death is coming. If not death, then something worse: impotence and darkness. How can a silent statue sit on a silver-tongued liar’s throne? Here is your broken coronation, Ozymandias. Here is your stability—and it is solid as stone.
This must be what you think about at midnight. You wonder who you will be when the darkness is final, when there is nothing else in the world but that. The gembond will shut your eyes and you alone will be your kingdom. Drive yourself to madness and see what you find there in yourself. Maybe it will absolve you.
King of kings—the lone and level sands will bury you in due time.
[center][size=1]Story by Oceanas (43678).[/size][/center]
[/code]
@Sacnite
[Hope this works for you! Enjoy. c:]
Life is a puzzle and you are the gamesmaster. Life is a web and you are the spider sitting at the center. Life is a cup of tea and you are the poison it’s spiked with.
Oh, but it is all so fragile.
You are sick with longing for something more solid. Subtle strings of influence are easily snipped; power wanes so quickly. What’s a gamesmaster when the game is over? Or the spider when it’s under the shoe? What is the poison in the tea when it’s been poured out? You must always be ready to play the game, to make another move or place another piece.
But then -- who are you if there is nothing left to control?
At midnight, when the world is quiet and the games are done, tell me what is left. Tell me what you are so determined to save that you would break others just to see yourself whole. What are you so in love with? All your gifts are weapons; you hone them only so you can use them against someone else. What good is a shiny toy or a trophy on a shelf?
You need others, if only to give yourself something to look at. Reflected in them, you are powerful. Reflected in them, you are magnificent.
You are in control. Tell yourself that, until doesn’t sound like a lie. Tell yourself that until it’s nothing but a rhythm in your blood, so subtle you never question it.
Curl your thorns around their necks. Call it living vicariously.
Call it your game. If it’s your game, then you can make the rules. If you can control the rules, you can control yourself. You can win. Right?
Right?
But the gems still ripple over your skin like a living thing. They are ceaseless, seeking, so beautiful as they break you. The comet is your dark shadow, here to watch as you unravel. Death is coming. If not death, then something worse: impotence and darkness. How can a silent statue sit on a silver-tongued liar’s throne? Here is your broken coronation, Ozymandias. Here is your stability—and it is solid as stone.
This must be what you think about at midnight. You wonder who you will be when the darkness is final, when there is nothing else in the world but that. The gembond will shut your eyes and you alone will be your kingdom. Drive yourself to madness and see what you find there in yourself. Maybe it will absolve you.
King of kings—the lone and level sands will bury you in due time.
Coding (for the italics & credit):
[Hope this works for you! Enjoy. c:]
Life is a puzzle and you are the gamesmaster. Life is a web and you are the spider sitting at the center. Life is a cup of tea and you are the poison it’s spiked with.
Oh, but it is all so fragile.
You are sick with longing for something more solid. Subtle strings of influence are easily snipped; power wanes so quickly. What’s a gamesmaster when the game is over? Or the spider when it’s under the shoe? What is the poison in the tea when it’s been poured out? You must always be ready to play the game, to make another move or place another piece.
But then -- who are you if there is nothing left to control?
At midnight, when the world is quiet and the games are done, tell me what is left. Tell me what you are so determined to save that you would break others just to see yourself whole. What are you so in love with? All your gifts are weapons; you hone them only so you can use them against someone else. What good is a shiny toy or a trophy on a shelf?
You need others, if only to give yourself something to look at. Reflected in them, you are powerful. Reflected in them, you are magnificent.
You are in control. Tell yourself that, until doesn’t sound like a lie. Tell yourself that until it’s nothing but a rhythm in your blood, so subtle you never question it.
Curl your thorns around their necks. Call it living vicariously.
Call it your game. If it’s your game, then you can make the rules. If you can control the rules, you can control yourself. You can win. Right?
Right?
But the gems still ripple over your skin like a living thing. They are ceaseless, seeking, so beautiful as they break you. The comet is your dark shadow, here to watch as you unravel. Death is coming. If not death, then something worse: impotence and darkness. How can a silent statue sit on a silver-tongued liar’s throne? Here is your broken coronation, Ozymandias. Here is your stability—and it is solid as stone.
This must be what you think about at midnight. You wonder who you will be when the darkness is final, when there is nothing else in the world but that. The gembond will shut your eyes and you alone will be your kingdom. Drive yourself to madness and see what you find there in yourself. Maybe it will absolve you.
King of kings—the lone and level sands will bury you in due time.
Coding (for the italics & credit):
Code:
Life is a puzzle and you are the gamesmaster. Life is a web and you are the spider sitting at the center. Life is a cup of tea and you are the poison it’s spiked with.
Oh, but it is all so [i]fragile[/i].
You are sick with longing for something more solid. Subtle strings of influence are easily snipped; power wanes so quickly. What’s a gamesmaster when the game is over? Or the spider when it’s under the shoe? What is the poison in the tea when it’s been poured out? You must always be ready to play the game, to make another move or place another piece.
But then -- who are you if there is nothing left to control?
At midnight, when the world is quiet and the games are done, tell me what is left. Tell me what you are so determined to save that you would break others just to see yourself whole. What are you so in love with? All your gifts are weapons; you hone them only so you can use them against someone else. What good is a shiny toy or a trophy on a shelf?
You need others, if only to give yourself something to look at. Reflected in them, you are powerful. Reflected in them, you are magnificent.
You are in control. Tell yourself that, until doesn’t sound like a lie. Tell yourself that until it’s nothing but a rhythm in your blood, so subtle you never question it.
Curl your thorns around their necks. Call it living vicariously.
Call it your game. If it’s your game, then you can make the rules. If you can control the rules, you can control yourself. You can [i]win[/i]. Right?
Right?
But the gems still ripple over your skin like a living thing. They are ceaseless, seeking, so beautiful as they break you. The comet is your dark shadow, here to watch as you unravel. Death is coming. If not death, then something worse: impotence and darkness. How can a silent statue sit on a silver-tongued liar’s throne? Here is your broken coronation, Ozymandias. Here is your stability—and it is solid as stone.
This must be what you think about at midnight. You wonder who you will be when the darkness is final, when there is nothing else in the world but that. The gembond will shut your eyes and you alone will be your kingdom. Drive yourself to madness and see what you find there in yourself. Maybe it will absolve you.
King of kings—the lone and level sands will bury you in due time.
[center][size=1]Story by Oceanas (43678).[/size][/center]
@Oceanas
Honestly that was perfect. I couldn't have been more captivated by your writing. Sending payment to crossroads.
Honestly that was perfect. I couldn't have been more captivated by your writing. Sending payment to crossroads.
@Oceanas
Honestly that was perfect. I couldn't have been more captivated by your writing. Sending payment to crossroads.
Honestly that was perfect. I couldn't have been more captivated by your writing. Sending payment to crossroads.
@Sacnite
Glad you enjoyed it so much!
Just a quick reminder that I'm still waiting for payment. Send it when you're ready. c:
Glad you enjoyed it so much!
Just a quick reminder that I'm still waiting for payment. Send it when you're ready. c:
@Sacnite
Glad you enjoyed it so much!
Just a quick reminder that I'm still waiting for payment. Send it when you're ready. c:
Glad you enjoyed it so much!
Just a quick reminder that I'm still waiting for payment. Send it when you're ready. c:
@oceanas
Would you mind pinging me when you open? And you said you didn't mind when people jsut posted, so would you mind looking over this gal? She has a personality in her bio. I'm not looking for anything specific, so you're pretty much free to do anything you want with her. But if you want a prompt, how about how she figures out using her card magic.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=8953184]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/89532/8953184_350.png[/img]
[/url]
@oceanas
Would you mind pinging me when you open? And you said you didn't mind when people jsut posted, so would you mind looking over this gal? She has a personality in her bio. I'm not looking for anything specific, so you're pretty much free to do anything you want with her. But if you want a prompt, how about how she figures out using her card magic.
Would you mind pinging me when you open? And you said you didn't mind when people jsut posted, so would you mind looking over this gal? She has a personality in her bio. I'm not looking for anything specific, so you're pretty much free to do anything you want with her. But if you want a prompt, how about how she figures out using her card magic.
@Oceanas
I did send it to crossroads, but the trade must have gotten cancelled? That is weird and has never happened to me before. Sent a second trade.
I did send it to crossroads, but the trade must have gotten cancelled? That is weird and has never happened to me before. Sent a second trade.
@Oceanas
I did send it to crossroads, but the trade must have gotten cancelled? That is weird and has never happened to me before. Sent a second trade.
I did send it to crossroads, but the trade must have gotten cancelled? That is weird and has never happened to me before. Sent a second trade.
