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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 2:12:07 GMT -5
but wolfman is bored and is like, "lets watch some animal planet, i hear they're showing mating rituals of the siberian wolf tonight"
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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 2:13:27 GMT -5
mummy just sits in the corner and goes "mmmrrrraaahhhh"
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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 2:15:40 GMT -5
"mummy, youre freakin killing me over here," dracula said. dracula's hard boner softened a bit, but strengthened again when he looked at the screen to watch the bulging veins on the sculpted forearms of the hunky nurse pulsate. am i gay dracula thought
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Post by Vixo on Sept 22, 2009 2:23:44 GMT -5
Well I don't do vampire role playing, that's just a fantasy my non-vampire-character had about being a vampire. I mean if someone has a vampire character and they write well I'll RP with them, but I don't play a vampire because keeping up that level of violence doesn't work for me. And nonviolent vampires bore me.
Beyond that though, the short answer (because I keep deleting the long one): No, there's really not. I like the bands I mention stupidly often, and I like role playing. Beyond that, I like playing video games but don't like discussing them, and. . .not much else. I'm not a diverse person. I could go into it more but fuck it, I'm starting to think I honestly need some sort of happy pills or something. Getting gently mocked on a message board I've been a member of for years seriously shouldn't be bringing me to tears.
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Post by Tanya on Sept 22, 2009 2:44:49 GMT -5
Vixo! . If you'd like to talk about that elsewhere, we can.
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Post by Nick Taxidermy on Sept 22, 2009 10:54:33 GMT -5
gosh, I feel really bad now. I really didn't want to hurt your feelings, I just wanted to have some fun and write some dumb vampire shit.
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Post by Vixo on Sept 22, 2009 11:05:46 GMT -5
Yeah I know, I was just having a night of failure yesterday. What is it about crying over nothing that makes my mouth feel like I spent the night sucking a huge stone cock? . . .according to Twilight that should be a vampire reference. . .
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Post by Nick Taxidermy on Sept 22, 2009 11:08:42 GMT -5
mmmm, huuuge stone cock.
I lack the inspiration at the moment to continue the Harrowing Tale Of Count Darkula.
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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 13:03:59 GMT -5
sorry vixo. Wasn't trying to be mean, just having a little fun.
Truth be told, putting any writing out there will probably receive criticism and it's important to learn how to take that in stride. People have opinions and they like to share them. Some people will get what you write and others won't, no matter how good or bad your writing is. If I can give you one piece of advice: don't write for us, write for yourself and then share with us what you want to. Personally, I love message boards for being able to riff off other people, but it's not an ideal format for submitting stories and receiving criticism.
I hope you keep writing and don't quit. It's a very tough craft and it requires from the writer both patience and an iron will. But writing something that you love, something that's so perfect you wouldn't change a single word of it, is one of the best feelings in the world.
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Post by Vixo on Sept 22, 2009 14:33:10 GMT -5
Well, what upset me is that it wasn't even criticism. If I'd gotten "that sucked" or something I could've lived with that. It read more like everyone saw the word "vampire" and threw down some bullshit without looking at the contents.
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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 16:20:50 GMT -5
Alright, make fun of me if you want. I'm just. . .disappointed. I wrote this and posted it in an RP room and no one god damn acknowledged it. I know it's shitty in some ways but I like when I spontaneously write something I wouldn't normally write. The end of it reflects the fact that it's RP and not story-writing of course. I may or may not delete this when I wake up with a sense of clarity, haha. Everything holds a tenuous, trembling shape. Waiting for me. Developing a consciousness, and loving me. Everything knows what my fingers have become, what every inch of my person has become. I am full of something that human language fails to articulate. My body shakes in step with the air, the ground, the trees, the girl whose soft hair warms my palm and whose terror keeps her frozen. Her body cannot decide what it is, made of candy seconds after being an overfilled balloon, realizing it was bone and sinew, then forgetting again. I bring my mouth against hers, silencing her cries, to remember what skin tastes like, to remember its texture across my tongue, and the coppery promises which live just beneath its surface. With these things recalled, I return fully to that which I am, a creature as solid as I am dynamic, as my ever fiber buzzes with that fullness, that inexpressable energy.
Sucking on the young girl's mouth, I feel her bite at the intrusion of my tongue, but I pull it out from between her teeth as though there were never any force behind her clamping jaw anyhow, and they slide away as though entirely blunt. She is sobbing now, giving voice to the tears which had squeezed from her eyes, which invited me to think of her body as something with a flavor to begin with. My thumb presses along the gentle, childish shape of her jaw, then pulls back to describe a line of glorious red, at which my fresh heart feels to leap with anticipation. Some noise rolls out of my throat--a moan, a growl, I don't care anymore--and I press my body closer, one hand so tight in the back of her dress that I think, for a moment, that it's actually her skin serving replacement to her hair, hot and panicked in my palm. My mouth moves to this vibrant new focus, and nothing issued from a woman before has tasted this way. Ah, if my body hadn't elevated beyond such silly things as arousal. . .!
I become conscious of my tongue as a muscle, and force it along that line of red, heedless of her whining cries of pain, pulling the most pathetic amounts of this ambrosia into my mouth. Fuck. No satisfaction. Before I even realize what's happening, my hand has twisted around, so immensely larger than anything that could abide by this girl's proportions, pushing her chin up, then breaching the barrier between skin and circulatory system as though by accident, penetrating the flesh as easily as one might pierce the skin forming on an unattended dessert. I drink further of her, but there is never enough, there can never be enough. With her last shreds of vocal chords she is screaming from the bottom of the ocean, but my hands are weapons, they know nothing but how to rend and dig and give me more. I forget life as a biped and descend upon her diminishing form as a higher animal, sinking low, wishing my physical form had arose to match my essential one, that I could draw this essence in through every square inch of my being. Recalling idiot ways, my lungs suck at air, pull in blood.
There is never enough blood.The artist arises from his fog, lifting his hand to his eye, a queer tactile event; it is damp and tender. Well-dressed, he sits on a wooden bench somewhere along sixteenth boulevard, where his shop is located, his posture that of a marionette whose strings have been cut. His long fingers crook slightly, his knuckles pulling along his cheekbones, spread on either side of his nose, and his eyes flutter open to pull in the world around him as it actually is. A shudder runs through his body as the place he had just been occupying throws itself against the door of reality--that door shakes, but does not open again to admit this sickening fantasy. Memory? "I'll never be home," he mourns, squeezing shut his eyes, his voice a self-indulgent, wounded issue such as he'd never entertain in the company of others. Again he hangs his head, hiding his miserable face behind a curtain of dark hair, and lets his hands drop to sway before his knees. well first off, let's be honest, vampire role play is a terrible subject matter. I'm not trying to be mean, but it's boring, tired and only interests a small sect of people who write it themselves too. if you want to write it, it's probably best to keep that to yourself or post it on a fanfic board. but looking past that, I tried reading it four or five times and I have no idea what's going on. There's a vampire and there's a girl and he's sucking her blood (I think) and there's a lot of wishy washy scene description that doesn't convey action. Who is the narrator? Where are they? What's going on? Nothing is established. Probably the best place to start is describing what she looks like and the room they're in. It's also extremely ... I dunno how to describe it ... self-indulgent, I guess. A lot of "I" statements. Don't get me wrong, that's a great literary device for vampirism (usually used in letters to penthouse and other sex journals), but there's still not enough action going on. What does "My body shakes in step with the air, the ground, the trees, the girl whose soft hair warms my palm and whose terror keeps her frozen" mean? I imagine he's going into convulsions. here's a few other pieces of action and description that I wasn't grasping: --" ... that it's actually her skin serving replacement to her hair, hot and panicked in my palm." --"Before I even realize what's happening, my hand has twisted around ..." --"The artist arises from his fog, lifting his hand to his eye, a queer tactile event ..." --"... his voice a self-indulgent, wounded issue such as he'd never entertain in the company of others." There seems to be a disconnect between the scene in your head and the words you've written down. I think you were trying really hard to make the descriptions beautiful and sexy and it became overcomplicated. Read it aloud to yourself--literally--to see what works and what doesn't.
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Post by TalonSlayer on Sept 22, 2009 16:51:08 GMT -5
Alright, make fun of me if you want. I'm just. . .disappointed. I wrote this and posted it in an RP room and no one god damn acknowledged it. That always sucks. I'd take a "Your story is bad, and you should feel bad!" over a total lack of acknowledgment any day.
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Post by Vixo on Sept 22, 2009 16:54:46 GMT -5
Yeah, see, that doesn't upset me. I probably don't. . .erm. . .absorb criticism the way I should, but it doesn't bother me and I can see where it comes from. I think reading it would benefit from a bit of context (which at least some of the people I'd initially intended to read it have). OK.
Well, first off, it's called vampire fantasy not because I regard it as some sexy fantasy I'm having, but because the character's having it (hence the part that's in third person). In the larger storyline, he has this uhm. . .demon, I suppose, who feeds him terrible things and tries to make him feel as though those terrible things are rooted in his own desires, and inform his motives. And there's a grain of truth to that, and that makes him miserable.
The self-indulgence of the writing style is, admittedly, a flaw, but in a way it's purposely like that, especially all of the bullshit in the beginning. He's freshly turned into a vampire, and has delusions of power related to that, as though fundamental things have changed just because of his personal experience. It's supposed to be ridiculous, and the sort of thing any reasonable person would kick his teeth down his throat for. The whole "shaking" thing is supposed to be how the world feels with his heightened senses, I guess, as though everything's moving around him, he can sense it on the smallest level. And he feels like he's a part of that, where his human self was ignorant to it. Again, delusions of a higher importance than he has.
With the specific things:
--" ... that it's actually her skin serving replacement to her hair, hot and panicked in my palm."
He'd moved the hand that was in her hair to the back of her dress, which was tight-fitting. The way he pulled the fabric away from her skin and bunched it up in his fist made him feel like he was pulling her flesh away from her bones and holding it that way, because she didn't move. "Hot and panicked" was just to describe the flushed state of her body, since she was being attacked and all.
--"Before I even realize what's happening, my hand has twisted around ..."
This was just me trying to get across that he kind of moved his fingers around to do this, he didn't turn his wrist.
--"The artist arises from his fog, lifting his hand to his eye, a queer tactile event ..."
Not gonna lie, this is me using bullshit pretentious phrasing (arguably the whole post is, but this feels particularly guilty because I can't say it's supposed to be the voice of a deluded character). After all that, writing "He came to, touched his eye and wondered if he'd been crying" seemed lame.
--"... his voice a self-indulgent, wounded issue such as he'd never entertain in the company of others."
This is me making fun of my writing. It's also the fact that the character has a habit of being very "woe is me" inside his head, but he's very ashamed of it otherwise.
Sorry, post got rushed, I need to go to work but wanted to finish my thought before I left. I'll try and take stuff to heart later.
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Post by leoz maxwell jilliumz on Sept 22, 2009 17:22:03 GMT -5
Yeah, see, that doesn't upset me. I probably don't. . .erm. . . absorb criticism the way I should, but it doesn't bother me and I can see where it comes from. I think reading it would benefit from a bit of context (which at least some of the people I'd initially intended to read it have). OK. Well, first off, it's called vampire fantasy not because I regard it as some sexy fantasy I'm having, but because the character's having it (hence the part that's in third person). In the larger storyline, he has this uhm. . .demon, I suppose, who feeds him terrible things and tries to make him feel as though those terrible things are rooted in his own desires, and inform his motives. And there's a grain of truth to that, and that makes him miserable. The self-indulgence of the writing style is, admittedly, a flaw, but in a way it's purposely like that, especially all of the bullshit in the beginning. He's freshly turned into a vampire, and has delusions of power related to that, as though fundamental things have changed just because of his personal experience. It's supposed to be ridiculous, and the sort of thing any reasonable person would kick his teeth down his throat for. The whole "shaking" thing is supposed to be how the world feels with his heightened senses, I guess, as though everything's moving around him, he can sense it on the smallest level. And he feels like he's a part of that, where his human self was ignorant to it. Again, delusions of a higher importance than he has. Note that I haven't read the entire story, but this didn't get across. At all. If it's supposed to be ridiculous, make it more ridiculous. Make it so ridiculous that even the dumbest retard can understand that you're not serious. If I were judging this story in a contest right now, I would imagine that you were being 100% sincere. Also, seems like there's more to this scene than what you put up. With the specific things: --" ... that it's actually her skin serving replacement to her hair, hot and panicked in my palm." He'd moved the hand that was in her hair to the back of her dress, which was tight-fitting. The way he pulled the fabric away from her skin and bunched it up in his fist made him feel like he was pulling her flesh away from her bones and holding it that way, because she didn't move. "Hot and panicked" was just to describe the flushed state of her body, since she was being attacked and all. . this is already better than what you have in there. She's in a tight-fiting dress, he's pulling at it passionately, etc. I liked the "hot and panicked" line, btw. Here's how I'd edit what you just wrote to fit into the story: Add some more hard details into the paragraph.
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