ShoujoAddict, The Reader
Hi there, assuming you've come to see this profile implies you would want to know something about me. Well I'm your regular loquacious, nerdy, science loving, anime addicted, college going person. I like reading, poetry and writing a lot so expect some works from me...(if I ever finish them that is.)
Here is a little something that I completely uphold and strive to always follow in my lifetime...
"All truth is one,
In this light may science and evolution,
Endavour together for the,
Steady evolution of mankind from,
Darkness to light,
From narrowness to broadmindedness,
From prejudice to tolerance.
It is the voice of life that tells us to come, and learn."
A quatrain fills a little space,
Although it’s pretty small,
And often times, as in this case,
It has no point at all.
Some quotes that sound good to me:
"If you don't have time to read, you don't have time to write."
"Write without fear, edit without mercy."
"If I waited for perfection I would never write a word."
“I define science fiction as the art of the possible. Fantasy is the art of the impossible”
"Nothing in this world exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is just specualtion."
"May you live all the days of your life."
"Love is a serious mental disease."
"All that we see and seem is just a dream within a dream."
-Edgar Allan Po
"Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped in a never-ending spiral of life and death. Is this a curse? Or some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle...and wonder if we'll ever get the chance to kill him."
-2B, Nier Automata.
"If you want to live a happy life tie it to a goal not to people or things."
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill’d with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say “This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.”
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorn’d like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term’d a poet’s rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The forest paths are dry,
Under the October twilight a water,
Mirrors the still sky.
Charles IV, king of Bohemia and holy roman emperor was considered one of the most influential and successful rulers of his time. However, not all of his decisions were wise...
Special thanks to mazardark for his advice on historical combat, and to cricket for beta reading.
Also, this is an entry to Corgi's unofficial contest of the lords and my first story on the site.
This fan fiction is based on 'Kimi Ni Todoke' a manga series. If you don't want your experience with the manga to be spoiled then please do not read this.
To any fellow otaku fans out there I apologize if I'm not able to give you the level of depth you experience from the actual manga(since I'm nowhere near the level of Karuho Shiina)but nevertheless I hope you like this.
To all other readers, well if you know about the series it certainly would help to better grasp and "feel" the story, but if you don't want to go through the painstaking effort of reading scans from the net (and ruining your laptop with viruses) then you can treat this as an individual story too; that being said I highly recommend you read the series later though.
Hope you enjoy!
Recent PostsOUTBREAK FEVER Writing Jam! on 4/4/2020 6:38:21 PM
Poetry prompt: Narrative poetry on 4/2/2020 7:37:42 PM
I look upwards high, at the blue azure sky,
I look downwards low, as the crimson pool grows,
I look left, I look right, at the hazy sight, in my eyes,
I look inwards inside me, deep down into my mind,
I think of the moment that brought me to this plight,
To this moment of despair, dread and of utter fright,
I think of the moment that brought me to this
To this monent of need, regret, and absolute respite,
The things that I had done, do they matter anymore?
In the long run, was anything worth it anymore?
Is anything in this wretched world worth saving anymore?
Has everything I had done till now, have no meaning anymore?
I don't know...
I don't know...
I do not know if the glimpses of his radiant smile mattered,
I do not know if the touch of his alluring skin
I do not know if his eyes melting my heart mattered,
I do not know if to me, the fate he met mattered,
But I do know...
But I do know...
I do know that my love, for him did matter,
I do know that my life, for him did matter,
I do know it was inevitable, and it did matter,
I do know it was me or him, and it did matter,
It did matter a lot,
When the disease let him rot,
It did matter a lot,
When death came and brought,
Within it, its desire,
Its thirst as it perspires,
It looks hungry, and admires,
Him, as it desires...
It desires the glimpses, of his radiant smile that mattered,
It desires the touch, of his alluring skin that mattered,
It desires his eyes, melting my heart that mattered,
It desires its fate, sated its desire that mattered,
And so it does come in, and so it does invade in,
Our merry little world, as mighty as an earl,
As if on a shopping spree, of every family,
Our family was next, on the list of death.
The grip of death is subtle, so subtle yet so strong,
It feasts on his smile, turning it to rot,
The once radiant beam, of sunshine and of glee,
Was now twisted wrong, maggots festering along,
The grip of death was horrid, so disgustingly insane,
It then feasts on his eyes, turning them inane,
Those eyes which once had, melted me like hot wax,
Were now staring red, into my world with dread,
The grip of death so cruel, so cruel and unfair,
It stole from me my love, making him irrepair,
It gives him a massage, such a sickening envisage,
It hypnotizes him and makes, him its new slave,
I know, his fate was sealed the minute his mind,
Gave in to death's cold, yet seductive embrace,
Yet I couldn't accept, Death taking mine!
The only thing that matters in my life!
So I fight with him, no, I, fight with it,
I fight death, taking over him,
I gouge out his eyes, I flail his skin,
So very beautiful and so very pure within,
But little do I know that I sealed my fate,
Gave death an opening, its teeth in me,
I shrieked horrified, not accepting my fate,
As darkness looms, and I feel it in me...
I feel death in me...
I stop my thoughts nigh, as I look upwards high,
On the blue azure sky, as the sun goes by,
Its fiery light ablaze, as it makes me amazed,
It colours my eyes, once lifeless with life,
Then it comes in front of me,
The being that took from me,
It took from me my most dearest,
And has the gall to confront me?!
"Poor little girl, your heart's so pure,"
"That you gave your life away,"
"For something so worthless..."
It laughs maniacally, mocking my choices,
I laugh back too, mocking his choices,
"Poor little death, you're so naïve,
"You thought I gave my life away,"
"I saved him, from your ghastly claws,"
"I saved him from you, by giving you me,"
Death howls in rage, and attacks,
But is pushed back, and relents,
"Your heart is so pure, that I can't get through,"
"I have more easier, impure prey than you,"
And so it let's me go, and I drift away,
Into nothingness, blackness, and dismay,
And I never regret my decisions any,
For he, the love in me, shines brightly,
Poetry prompt: Narrative poetry on 4/2/2020 6:10:55 PM
@TharaApples @C6H8O6 @Cupcakitty_13 @juliemmarch
Poetry prompt: Narrative poetry on 4/2/2020 6:07:45 PM
Hey everyone. These poetry prompts have been overdue for a pretty long time now, so I've decided to start completely fresh this time around. So here's a brief introduction on how things are gonna work from now.
1) There is no time limit to the submissions. You can take your own time to write the best quality poetry you can come up with. There is no need to rush.
2) Anybody and everybody is encouraged to review another person's poem. In the previous threads, I was the only person reviewing, but I encourage y'all to also give a read to everyone else's poems and give your thoughts about it. It doesn't even have to be related to poetry theory, you can just mention your thoughts on it. In the end, to become better writers we have to be good readers first, and the same is true here. It is also not necessary to participate to leave a review, so feel free to do so if you just want to read.
3) There will be a voting system, and not a points system. When the time for making a new prompt arrives, everyone who has submitted a poem upto that point in time will get one vote. You can use this vote to select any one poem from the thread that you thought was the best. You have to submit a poem to be able to vote.
4) The person with the poem which gets the most votes, will get to choose the next prompt. If, because of any reason, I am not able to make the new thread, then I will inform said person to start the thread with any propmt of their liking themselves.
And, that's it! I hope these new methods would be useful, but if you have any other suggestions feel free to post below.
Also, regarding the last prompt six months ago, i.e. this: <https://chooseyourstory.com/forums/creative-corner/message/25598 >had some pretty amazing poetry in it, so please, if any of y'all get the time, leave a comment on these poems to show your appreciation for the hard work that has been put in making them by these people.
Anyway, onto the prompt...
So, all of us here on CYS have experience reading and/or writing storygame narrations. The form of poetry that I want you all to attempt is 'narrative poetry' or basically a fusion of a poem and a short-story. A narrative poem is a poem which tells a story. It has a full storyline with all the elements of a traditional short-story in it. These elements include characters, plot, conflict, and resolution, setting, action, etc. Now, narrative poetry usually does not follow any sort of strict meter or rhyme scheme, and is usually written in free-form, but I urge you all to at least try and create a sense of rhythm and tune by using some form of consistent meter in your poems. This isn't compulsory though, you can try and create a narrative poem however you like. There are no restrictions, so let your imagination run wild!
The poem can be as long, or as short as you want it to be, there is no minimum word limit. However, the same things that you keep in mind when writing short-stories, should be kept in mind here too. Consistency of the plot, good dialouge(if any), relatable characters, etc.
For those of you who want a reference to using meter in poetry, here's a link: http://literarydevices.net/meter/ I would suggest you to use the iambic meter, which is relatively easier to apply.
A classic example of a narrative poem is 'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe.
The Gambler broke even on 4/2/2020 1:38:44 PM
Untitled Monthly Newsletter, April 2020, Issue #1 on 4/1/2020 2:51:22 PM
OUTBREAK FEVER Writing Jam! on 3/31/2020 8:53:23 PM
OUTBREAK FEVER Writing Jam! on 3/31/2020 8:26:31 PM
“SAVE ME! SAVE ME! SAVE ME! SA-”
You keep screaming and screaming, repeating the same words, until every single molecule of air doesn’t come out of your lungs. Until your lungs aren’t bare and dry, you scream...only to be interrupted by a very loud bang from behind the solid metal door that sends your ears ringing, despite them being covered by your fingers.
That causes you to momentarily stop. You sit down quietly, and peacefully. Deathly silent now...because you know that soon...very soon, ‘it’ will take over you.
IT WILL CONSUME YOU
So, you wait. You patiently wait because you’re powerless to stop it; and consume you it does, as you it slips like slithery ghost into the back of your mind, hypnotizing you with a melodious lullaby into peaceful sleep.
PEACEFUL, BLISSFUL SLEEP...
You wake up, with the sun hitting your eyes like spears meeting its target. The smell of fresh grass hits your face, as you feel the thorny greens all around you piercing your skin through the orange clothes you wear...the orange stained with red that you wear. The disgusting smell of rot and decomposition very soon follows next, as you struggle to stand up. You feel a burning sensation in your leg, and your knuckles feel extremely sore; however, none of that could even compare to the scene in front of you right now.
The greenery surrounding you is dotted with spots of red everywhere. Flies and maggots whirr and buzz around you as you look around. A murder of crows flies high, making incessant impatient sounds to your interference. The face on each of the bodies is horribly mutilated and caved in, as if some vile creature had feasted on their rotting brains.
Suddenly, as your senses come back to you, you realize that you’re clutching something hairy in your right hand. You raise it up, and the ‘something’ turned out to be the severed head of a woman, held dangling by the hair in a n oscillatory motion that reminded you of the grandfather clock in your living room that you used to love staring at. You loose yourself in her pale white eyes, and keep staring at her as she dingles and dangles...left, and right, and left, and right, and le-
-FT, AND RIGHT.
You wake up, suddenly. Directly in front of a blazing flame of the golden fire. The sound of crickets and insects of the deep night fall on your ears, as you look up to see the shining white crescent of the moon shower your eyes with silver light making you flinch. You vaguely recognize that you’re sitting under a lean-to, with two sticks on either side and dead, dry leaves covering the ground beneath you. All around you, shrouded in a blanket of darkness, you can vaguely make out the plants and expansive trees of the forest in the surroundings.
You feel dryness in your throat, and thirst building up and so following the dripping sound of rushing water, you wander in the darkness. Slowly and steadily, so as to not tumble and fall. As you near the modes stream, you scoop up the water and drink...but the taste, is salty? You take another scoop, and this time the extreme sweet-salty taste makes you rigorously cough. You quickly head back to the fire, pick up a wooden branch, and light it on fire. Coming back to the stream, with the aid of your torch you realize that the stream is...red? You feel a sense of dizziness come over you, as you struggle to walk upstream. To your horror, the scene you see before you is one you would never forget. A pile of naked dead, mutilated human bodies, with their faces unrecognizable, and severed limbs all around; lays in the back of a pickup truck. Torn pieces of clothing are in a heap right next to the tire, and the bodies look to be missing chunks of flesh from them, with visible teeth marks on them. Thick, red blood oozes out of the missing chunks of flesh from each of the bodies, and joins up together to form a stream of redness flowing down the undulating slope. Your dizziness, suddenly becomes overwhelming, as you start to rapidly blink, and the world goes in circles around you. You cough, and throw up tiny little finger bones, and whole gouged out eyeballs; which stare
MENACINGLY AT YOU AS SWIRLS OF BLACK OVERCOME YOUR VISION
You close the book with haste, staring at the nameless, black, hard leather cover. As you turn around, with the book held in your hand you hurry outside with haste. You walk briskly at first, but then thinking of the gruesome consequences, your brisk walk turns into a walk, and eventually a run; as you rush out of the library, straight towards the laboratory where the experimentation is taking place.
Running up the stairs, two steps at a time, you reach the third floor and barge into the double doors of the laboratory, panting for air. A lot of surprised faces turn to look at you, except for one...the scientist with the vile ‘vaccine’ in his hand, who’s about to inject the test subject.
“No! Don’t!” You scream out, while running towards the scientist but the deeds already done, as the needle pierces the subject’s skin, and the cursed liquid flows into the body.
Soon, the test subject spasms, and gurgles and coughs out blood before
SUDDENLY OPENING HIS RED BLOODSHOT EYES
He rips through the metal restraints as if they were made of paper, and grabs your head, pulling you close and biting a huge chunk of flesh from your neck and pushes you on the ground and feasts on your blood.
The last thing you hear before you emerge into cold blackness is the screaming and wailing of the helpless people, as they’re eaten alive by the vaccine infected demon.
OUTBREAK FEVER! Have a Corona! on 3/30/2020 12:49:12 PM
Ever Wish Fucktards Would SPACE Paragraphs? on 3/24/2020 11:10:56 AM
Lol, ya. Wouldn't be surprised if this was that 'artsy girl' person again