Nudes? Really?Looking forward to sharing my world ((and body)) with any and all!...in a purely figurative way, of course.
Here's to a new category under my belt!
~DraconicTiger
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Acidic RainRainclouds hung quietly over the streets, their children exploding in beautiful noise along the gutters, the streetlights, the abandoned cars. All was left open and silent, letting the rain wash away it's sins. There stood two boys, neither moving, neither caring; the water held no purpose. Their eyes locked on one another, never straying, never closing; always watching. The rains pounded harder in response.Acidic Rain
Their feet moving with purpose, they approached one another, and from an open car door, a beat. Violins. One hand moves here, the other there, tapping all the while. Keeping the constant rhythm. Slip to the side, let yourself
by ~DraconicTiger
Wordless LoveCold. So very cold. The winter streets were lined with iced-over cars, though you couldn't see them for the throngs of people crowding alongside them. All of them, men and women, stared blankly ahead, only making noise when they had to apologize to someone; the city was like a can of sardines, covered in snow. There were no homeless on the sidewalks, asking for food or shelter, for the harsh weather had offed all but the toughest of them.Wordless Love
Through the shuffling colours of grey, plaid, black and white (if one strained to see past it), there crouched a small boy, not more than sixteen summers old. His clothes were nothing more than
by ~DraconicTiger
ZombiesThey milled about the pavement, as though there was something important there, and one need only wait for it to appear. That moment, of course, never occured; a barrage of shrapnel and exploding batteries did. The once-animated corpses dropped, their various ligaments now lying beside or inside of themselves.Zombies
"Zombies. Gods, I hate Zombies." A young boy spoke, sitting upon his roof, a cigarette dangling from one side of his mouth. A 12-gauge shotgun rested upon the shingle, along with symmetrical rows of shells and pistol ammo. A small pistol of European make, gripped firmly in the boy's left hand, resembled those that the polic
by ~DraconicTiger
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: A house.
- Interests: Writing, Designing, Trying to draw.
- Favourite movie: Appleseed
- Favourite band or musician: Amon Tobin
- Favourite genre of music: Alternative / Techno / Ska
- Favourite poet or writer: Jack McDevitt
- Favourite photographer: Leah Woolgar
- Favourite style of art: Concept Art
- Operating System: Windows XP
- MP3 player of choice: No real favourite
- Shell of choice: ...erm, Shell?
- Wallpaper of choice: Depends on my mood, I suppose.
- Favourite game: Dungeons and Dragons
- Favourite gaming platform: PC
- Personal Quote: "When life gives you lemons, poke a hole in one, and squeeze it in Life's eye."
- Email: dragoness_rider@hotmail.com
- AIM: BritImposter
- MSN: dragoness_rider@hotmail.com
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'i must be fine 'cause my heart's still beating.'
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I have nothing smart to say...
Tnx for
You're a very hard person to find amano. Fortunately, I still had a casting or two left in my stick of Find Person...
Anyway, the SA class is done, and I couldn't find a more obscure place to hide the comment~! =3
Yes, it Would be a good place to get Themlod on it's feet, seeing as how your Journal idea has failed...>.<
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Feelick.
*poke*
Oh, I finally wrote something so that you could see how much better my literature bar is than yours~!
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Feelick.
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Feelick.
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