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The Thinger of Doom

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Go...and role play! Oct. 17th, 2004 @ 08:53 pm

Advertisement Sep. 1st, 2004 @ 10:57 am
Hey! I found a way to advertise the 'Thinger'. It's a community dedicated to ads. of communities. Please, leader Kaitlin, may I advertise us?
Rymes with...: Ah HA!
Sounds like...: Happy, Happy Joy Joy

Twinkie Man... Sep. 1st, 2004 @ 09:44 am
Ya know what?

You know thouse online comic book thingers? How about we do one with Twinkie man? Or someone can suggust a plot and one of us can make a 'page' vivia a la microsoft paint.

Shameless promotion but... Aug. 13th, 2004 @ 02:09 pm
Come join the Ebonybar, a fantasy role playing community for all!   

More Mary-Sues... Aug. 11th, 2004 @ 08:58 am
God-fucking-dammit. Even King Arthur (the movie) is OVERFLOWING with Mary-Sues...And... and...one of them replaced Morgaine with a 'Sue named....Alexandra. *breaks down* My name has been raped! *weeps* I think I need to legally change my name...Samara sounds good. ;p *weeps some more*
Rymes with...: depresseddepressed
Sounds like...: Simple Design-Breaking Benjamin
Other entries
» South Park Rocky Horror crossover
» (No Subject)
We need more to join but...how?
» (No Subject)
NOTHING is sacred. I just read the most horrible of fanfictions: *gasp* It was a Simpsons Mary-Sue!! *breaks down* First, they invade Rocky Horror, which is bad enough. But apparantely they aren't satisfied with just that fandom. And now they...*gasps* are taking over The Simpsons!!! *weeps for favorite cartoon* What's next, South Park Mary-Sues??

Oh crap. Because I just said that...

I tell you, NOTHING is sacred anymore.
» (No Subject)
Just posting a little grammar fix to one of the Thingers interest:

gender confussion=gender confusion

There's only one 's' in confusion Kaitlin...

Sorry I'm being such a Grammar!bitch but I'm scarred from too many MS fictions....
» I feel Inspired..

You've inspired me to post my own poem-free for public mockery. In all seriousness though, please let me know what you think.

Yeah, written back when I was...thinking some not so nice things about myself. It's depressing, to say the least.


Imperfection demands my hesitant hand-hold,
kept away from the light for its own salvation,
as my hollow tears refuse my arguments.

I am shoved by her wicked gaze,
an obsidian ice whose frost knows no bounds,
and in the center of her taunting I am thrust.

Her friends have been waiting,
Hatred and Desolation among them,
circled around my liability,
on trial for a cause unknown.

Their smiles are of the mischievous toddler;
in their glory they hide a secret not meant to be known.

Their eyes,
all highlighted with lascivious pleasure,
tell the story of truth,
and I find myself the main character,
the victim in their macabre tale.

Their slander and labels break upon me,
as soon as their blades come into contact with my skin.
I lust for the credibility of their words to be false,
but the crimson entwined with my white proves otherwise.

I demand my sorrow to come and comfort me,
but it will not obey me,
for even it knows I am nothing,
as it rapes what is left of my joy.

They dance now;
they have taken their own creation,
mutilating its wickedness,
manipulating its cruelty;
they have become the ring around my rosie.

The meaning has flown away from the Sun’s touch,
it has penetrated the obscurity that covers naked form.

From the melody its song has weaved,
the origins of my suffering are shown to me,
and my tears weep for their own ignorance.

It was not the brazen intent of others
that banished the last whispers of my silhouette;
Hope has watched, her stare as stoic as the blood of mountains,
the crimes sprawled helplessly before her,
they hold no worth in the artic glass peering in from the window of her heart.

Her intentions thought me guilty,
and so of them she spoke,
her words bringing forth my punishment,
on a breeze with no tender passion.

My abhorrence for her,
it still keeps me company
as I remain here,
hanging by the noose of my own hands.
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