"Love is a much more vicious motivator"

tiny piece of fiction inspired by the quote "Love is a much more vicious motivator"--BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes
_________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm going to kill you."

The dramatic tensions of staged play is killing her, even if the silences are too lengthy and quiet. There's a mix of macabre and irony within her words-- she doesn't know how she actually manages that, but the lines were written for her.

They were meant for her.

Somehow, though, she figures that little improvisations here and there wouldn't hurt. But the scriptwriter insists that this is the way the world works. This is the way the plot unfolds. This is the way her story starts, continues, falls, ends.

"I'm going- I'm going to kill you."

She falters with an accented anxiety, experimenting with the look of a bereaved child. While she can paint the crime scene of a haste murder, the culprit remains a mere patch of words. There is no life in the kill. Her culprit's a mere figurine or symbol of utter vacancies within the flawed manual of constructive set-up kills.

"I'm gonna kill you."

Dark comedy. A tinge of bitterness that'll induce laughter from the audience, all right. She can see through the psychological uncertainties of this culprit.

"I'm going to kill you."

Yes.

This is the one; she's taken her pick.

"I'm going to tear you down with sweet favours and whisper little nothings into your ears, promising you everything. You're gonna believe me. I'm gonna leave you longing for more, all defenses down. I'm going to lick you up, every last shred of dignity. I'm gonna leave you begging for more. I'm gonna leave you boiling in lust."

Her plan is simple, and so intricately complex at the same time.

"And then I'm going to leave you alone."

Love. Definitely a much more motivating factor.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

HO HO HO
this is extremely short and stupid.
BUT
MERRY CHRISTMAS :D

MAY SANTA VISIT YOU AND GIVE YOU A POTATO!

of bloodied horses and broken carriages

The world's spinning round and round and round in circles, turning on her axis, circling the pathway of the sun. It keeps turning, turning, turning in never-ending circles.

It's what they told her. Turn, spin, whirl. Forever.

And at the same time, people are going about their own circles, riding the merry-go-round of life, seated daintily on porcelain horses and carriages, their monotonous lives running past their minds, their very eyes. It's a slow slur, almost drunken and oblivious. It starts out with blasts of colours, excitement seeping through the thin, thin lines of discovery and exploration, then flashes and shimmers in the fading smudges of the rainbow. Sparks fly out in weak glimmers, piercing through the darkened (it's not even night, yet.) folds of our very skies.

And then it dies out.

Then what's remained of the inky, iridescent display melts and crumbles and mixes together into nothing but black. Putrid, evil, ugly black. And then the nightmare dawns upon us (you, we, her, him, them, all of us) and leads us to a routine of monotony, a penciled line that rushes on forever, never stopping, always the same. The headache sets in and turns all of that black into white and black again, flashing pauses of enlightenment are only mere illusions of the eerie tune the ballerina creaks and twirls to. It's desire.

Then sometimes it's too much and you regurgitate your memories and skills, sending them far, far away to somewhere much more blissful (in hopes it won't burn out like that candle that scalded you--it's the faint scent of the joss sticks lingering in the air like wisps of culture drifting away--when you knew you weren't supposed to touch it. That's red.)

And then the world falls to darkness.

Sometimes you wake up with a hangover, supported by tubes and clean, white sheets of death itself.

Most of the time, you don't.

And sometimes, you'll be kicked off the merry-go-round, off the surface of your planet, off to orbit around your own axis, your own route, a piece of rock floating around in space, undecided, lost, done.

She's probably the one who kicked you off.

It's her job, you know. Or so she thinks it's her job.

Perhaps not within the boundaries of a four-walled occupation. Something that's burning, leaking, sizzling under her sheep skin, something that's creeping up (like a wisteria. It's there, just happily settling in, curving around your finger [when you're the one curled around her finger]-- and then it kills you) beneath the pale porcelain of her doll-like innocence. Maybe it's a lust to feel cobwebs interwoven with tall, sticky tales of flaming scarlet upon your cold, clammy skin. Read the letters and words of your complicated and yet so foolish life. Read the names of every single girl or guy that's made your heart race, every single adrenaline rush you've had with coffee running down your system and pushing your head to a light, dizzy tilt.  

It's  interesting. Like abstract art, gore blotting your cold, peeling canvas-of-a-skin. Frayed threads of lost (it was never there, even from the start) life streaming down trembling, cracked skin.

Maybe it's a hobby.

A hobby with 'B's in full capitals, forced out of cracked lips vehemently with sadism pulsing down the curls of its 'Y' and dotting a glossy red neon, puncturing tanned skin. Tanned- you've gone out, but not all out. She's gone far too out. Too far. Like some disoriented moon drifting on the light-headed wisps of hell, skipping between the lava and orbiting- twirling- in its own path, destroying a black hole or two. (They were never big enough to capture her. She would dig and gnaw at their insides, till her nails bled, all just to watch them tear apart and cripple.)

And before you know it, you're off the spinning edges of the glorious ditch-of-a-home. She's laughing, her passion-smothered eyes haunting your last memory, and she's the last person you'll ever see again. You've just been kicked off the planet and left to spin, float, drift apart in space, your bones eventually breaking apart into a million, billion shatters of what you could have done. They dissolve into the thin, thin air (oh, what is air, when you've already departed from life?) and stir faintly around you, before even your own name, your own memory disappears and rots away to a finale of creaking doors and stagnant air.

There's really, nothing much to it.

And you're off the chain, the metallic stains of supposed freedom releasing its hold (grip, tight- suffocating grip) on you. And you're dead. Just a waste of space. Nothing. Nothing more than a disfigured lost cause (that you always were) waiting for nature to claim you back into her gentle arms.

Really, you're always being kicked around. Why don't you ever kick back?

Your morals(teachings on how to gain enlightenment and live forevermore, when you're just dangling precariously on the edge, waiting for her eyes to label you as her next target). Your fervent hope for a better future, forever living by the mantra that claims your kindness will eventually be rewarded. Yes, rewarded. She'll kick you off this nasty world, live the last moments of your life in sheer fear. Sheer realisation the world just is as bad as you might have thought. At least you know the truth before she's unhooked your fingers from the puppet strings you were clinging so tightly onto. Fall away as a helpless victim before the world can transform you into one of those monsters.

Fall away, then.

Fall away.

Life on hiatus

exams coming through!

I can't draw.
Well. I tried to, after listening to Hurts Like Heaven by Coldplay-- Mylo Xyloto album and it's rather catchy. I like the moosic video.

History teacher says: Because the lives of the people in the Qin Dynasty were hard, hence there were little advancements in Math and Science and Arts. This is a disadvantage........ so people were living in poverty and because of the heavy taxes, they had no time to develop in the Arts, Sciences and Math.

Exams = lack of development in the Sciences, Arts and Math = hard life = poverty.
...
Exams = poverty

D: but that's a different thing altogether.
I HAVE A CLASS BLOG.
I think it'll die after a few weeks. At most four months.
I AM SLACKINGGGGGG
and pretty proud of it.

...
why is everyone so talented and smart while I'm here derping and flooping and wriggling like a sunflower.
I kinda don't want the exams to end.
Even if it's pressurising-- I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO FEEL THE STRESS WHATWHATWHAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING STAHP YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT SEC 4 AT THIS RATE.

...
I don't caaaaaaaare.
I'm glad Geog is over. It was a nightmare and I BARELY finished it.
I shall train to write faster.
Yes.
WRIST POWER.
yay :)

So here's a word of wisdom for you readers.
potatoes potate, mosquitoes moskate.

Emoticons :D :3 :O :( :)

as I promised.
Emoticons.
I tried not to rant--but there wasn't really much to rant about, except studies but that's really boooring.
because YOU STARE AT THE NOTES AND THE NOTES DON'T STARE BACK.
how rude.
okay, maybe they stare back but-
ahem.
onto the topic!
mooooove along, children! Mooooooove along!

[disclaimer: this post is just my own opinion, kay]

Stalker Diaries

YESH I HAS COMPLETED IT.
Okay, so I realised that I haven't been doing any writing (writer's block is attacking, stronger than ever).
So I'm just trying. :D yayyayyayyay
Gosh, I hate writer's block. It just seeps into your brain. It's made me fear my fanfiction now. T.T

Light disclaimer:
I no stalk anyone. It just seemed... interesting to try and write from a stalker's point of view (no offence to stalkers out there! :D)
because I don't have the time and I get tired of things really easily. :D
Ellie, I has completed mai 'stalker story', you?

Now, if you dislike very crazily obsessive people ranting about how they stalk people, then do not click for more pencil shavings. :D

More shameless publicity! :D

Okay, so... umm, I'm trying out something new here. *shamelessly publicizes a book give away~*

So, um, well, look to the right of the blog and you can see a list of blogs. See them? Now, squint a little and you'll notice that there's a blog names "Bookcase to Heaven".

So, here's the deal! Sel (owner of "Bookcase to Heaven") is holding a kinda book giveaway thingy.

Her blog URL : Bookcase to Heaven
And her blog post regarding the giveaway: Bookcase to Heaven: book giveaway '12

So please do visit her and hopefully you'll win a book...?

Here, have some of Grandma Waffle's waffles :D

Yay~ publicity over!

...
um, no yay? :D

I'm horrible with this.

Dedicated to Jernana

Oh god.

I well, kinda, remembered that it was Jernana's birthday yesterday and I had somehow managed to stumble away for some unknown reason--out of my life and consciousness (I swear that stupid unicorn song managed to hypnotise me into donut land for no reason)

Okay. I kinda wanted to make up for it but I don't really know how. T.T

JERNANA! HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY! ♥♥♥

Okay, that doesn't seem as fair to Eilun... So...
Jerry, share half of it with Eilun :D

Yay~

So I created tagline for both of you~

Eilun's one: EILUN--JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED 
Jernana's one: JERNANA--THE ONLY SOLUTION

:D
yay~~~ :D
Oh yeah, some of the words are randomly highlighted to celebrate the yellowism.

So here's the cheer:

All the red, blue and purple wanna be like me,
YELLOWISM~ :D

For more yellowism, click here: YELLOWISM FRENZY

Sankiew!

Here, have a Banana-flavoured waffle :D

Memes. ORLY.

I feel like I've been wafting in and out of my life.

I think some of the days have escaped to somewhere...

T.T

'designed' a costume, may get to putting it up on the blog...

I feel really horrible.

I ran out of Milo.
And I'm too lazy to get some more...

Quoting Faye-Anne,

"JUST CROSS THE DAMN ROAD!"

I feel kinda... weird. My dear daughter has grown up... :'D sniffles. That was so epic. :D
At last, when we came to the photo session, my frog went to photobomb almost every single picture... Good job frog :D Awesomeness overload~ (P.S. I didn't make it go around and photobomb every single picture. It... just did. )

Karaoke machines need more Miku songs.
Lalalala.

♫♫♫ PINK FLUFFEH UNICORNS DANCING ON RAINBOWS ♫♫♫


Some times, I wonder...
What if other seniors looked at my blog...
Y'know, it's kinda scary.
OUR CCA NEEDS A CANON PAIRING! And a non-canon one :D
I'm kinda deciding on which meme faces (like Derp and Derpina, y'know) our reading group seniors fit...

*pauses*

... Well, I bet you Jernana will be the 'LOL' face...

*pauses*

I don't really feel like confessing my crimes on the net. *evil eye glints maliciously*

*pauses*

Oh gosh, not the Harry Potter fanvirus again. =3=

*pauses*

But our CCA really needs a canon pairing.

and a non canon one!!! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

... No, Jernana, you don't really look like this ^... I think that one's Clarinet.

^ this one is Eilun.

Yes, ^this shall have to be Jernana, until  I find a suitable one. 

YanQi will be : (^^;;)

Wu Fan: (as expected, cat lover :D)

Megan:

Isabelle: (I didn't really know...)

And I am...

Yay~

That's all. I think I'll watch that gruesome Chinese movie now...

Yay :D

Poetry Slam/typography :D

Yesh, time to post something sensible.

Well, my sister found something interesting so I thought I'd like to post it here:

Scratch and Dent dreams by Eric Darby

I do not own the video, nor the poem :D --same old same old disclaimer :D

And I got interested in this scene from The Dark Knight, Batman.

Why So Serious?

Same old same old disclaimer, I no owns the video/the scene/the movie

Mehh, the sound isn't that great...

Yay :D
hope you enjoyed~

♫♫♫ ♥ 066s5c 5s f6r the s643 ♥ ♫♫♫

H5!  5 have dec5ded t6 ty*e 5n c6de beca4se 5 352e 5t and...

5t's rea33y rather f4n, what say y64+


b4t 06st 6f 5t 5s rea33y, rea33y easy t6 f5g4re 64t.  ☺y64 d6n't say+

n6w, n6w, y64 0ay th5n2 why 6n earth 5 a0 d65ng th5s, b4t 5t's rea33y 14st f6r enterta5nt0ent *4r*6ses. *rec5se3y, 5 a0 rather... we5rd ☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻ 0ay we a33 35ve 5n har06ny! *eace t6 the w6r3d!

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫


Yay, now I have been magically revived...

Yesh, there will be no more failed codings!

I shall speak in-- hopefully-- good English and present to you my upcoming play.

Why, I am indeed feeling rather egoistic right now. :D
That is never a good sign, but oh, what can I do?
/egomoment/

I have really no idea what my new play is going to be called, but it may be a little crude and offending.
/stares around furtively/

Hm, but let's have a look at how it's like till now.

Cutscenes:

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MICHAELA

What? Oh, hello, Mason.

MASON [swiftly grabs the cigarette from CATHY]

Oh, hello there. You know it isn't good for you, Cathy.

CATHY

Since when did you give a damn about me? Give me back the damned cigarette you--

MASON

What will it be this time? "Moronic idiot"? That still sounds hilarious.

CATHY [mumbling]

Filthy mongrel.

 ♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MINDY

Aunt Caaaaaathy!

CATHY

What now, Min-Min? And I'm not deaf.

MINDY [scowls]

No more calling me that! Where's Daddy?

CATHY [in a subdued voice]

Killing people.

[aloud]

Oh, he's working.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

Okay, that's it.

I can't reveal any more of the failure-of-a-play  them because it would spoil the whole plot and they aren't really... sensitive parts so it should be okay! :D

/realises what I said/

oh...

/shudders/

I hope that doesn't mean that the rest of the failure-of-a- play is... censored...

...

oh what have I done.

/ego crushed/

Everything is going to be "bad translator"-ed

THIS IS GOING TO BE A RANDOM POST ABOUT BAD TRANSLATORS.

Why, some people do post about "a list of guest artists".

Ahem, I have no sponsor by the way. This blog is not sponsored. I thought that was clear enough.

You, you what? I am the rightful owner of this blog, of this blog! How dare you!

What "Knights of Code"? And "Process"? Are you a robot--wait, you are a programme.

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY "this kind of work"?

"On a dark and stormy night" is how we usually start our stories. But as it seem. You are not usual.

No, and I will never install it. NEVER. 

When I am--what. I am not going to install "e" or whatever it is. Also, "NEVER" rules out the possibility of actually installing whatever that crap is. T.T

Facepalm.

_________UN"BAD TRANSLATOR"-ABLE LINE_______

Okay, *glances around furtively* 

Good.

T.T

Just don't... 'palm' your computer screen in a bid to "palm page".

T.T

okay. :D

THIS IS THE 123th POST :D:D

WHEEEEEEEE

harharhar. 

This was so funny~ 

I should do this some other time. :D

Ollie~ :D

Here, have a waffle.

No?
Are you sure, no more waffles? [skeptical]
Oh dear, are you sure you don't need anymore waffles?
Oh--but--well, if you ever hear them calling your name then you may--

*silence*

Oh. I didn't--
Well, waffles are a very good source of-- [sheepishly]
I do understand, of course.
What? What did you just say? [affronted]
That was me again, wasn't it?
Oh, silly me.
Are you really sure you don't want a waffle?
Oh, but waffles are such a delight.
You don't see them? [disbelief]

*silence*

You don't see the waffles?
M' dear, how could you not see them?
They're piping hot, and so sweet, are you okay?
Are you sure you don't need this waffle?

________________END OF TRANSMISSION__________________
(taken from a phone call with the Waffle Granny)


I read an awesomely written fanfiction. A Harry Potter fanfiction, if I may add. With interesting and quirky twists. Oh dear, no waffles of course, no waffles.

Eilun, maybe you could read it and consider it for another fic recommendation?

It's: Harry Potter and The Methods of Rationality
By: Less Wrong

Quick summary (of what I've read):

Harry Potter does not live in an abusive household. He's under the care of Aunt Petunia, who has married some scientist of sorts. Harry Potter grows up, following his stepfather's footsteps into Science and its wonders *sighs enviously* Professor Mcgonagall takes him all around Diagon Alley, only to find out he's no ordinary child (the arguments in Harry's brain is a little too advanced for me...) He gets sorted into Ravenclaw with Hermione and they start a sort of competition on gaining points. There is a particular potions lesson wherein he managed to spark a reasonable argument with Professor Snape, and that in turn leads to a scene in the Headmaster's office, where Harry begins to reason how Professor Snape's actions and verbal abuse will scar "young, vulnerable" children for eternity.

Professor Snape and Harry apologise publicly (Snape 'regretting' his verbal abuse to the "young, vulnerable" children and Harry for disrupting the Potions Lesson).

It's really intriguing. :D

Hope you enjoy~

Shameless advertising :D

Okay.

So here.

Well, Brig asked me to help her advertise her blogshop :D

So here's the URL: https://www.facebook.com/partaerawkbs

AND SUSCRIBE/ADD HER AS FRIEND PLEASE :D

yay, my job is done~

If you have done as mentioned above...

HAVE A BANANA FLAVOURED COOKIE :D

credits belong to some person who I don't know :D
But it's a cute pic :D
shamelessly advertising "emo love" as well~

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I ATE THE COOKIE. TOO LATE :D

Wow, such a colourful post :D

Cocktail

Just... trying something out for fun :D

Trollers gonna troll~

_________________________________________________________________________________

Cocktail 

In synch we float

around the sticky, thick web of love

under swirling currents that melt and molt to form passion

do you not see--the scarlet deformity of jealousy

and thicket of lusting silk-- the epitome of desire

flickering and flashing,

desiring the thicket of silk and lusting

with jealousy--the deformed scarlet sight.

Passion melts and molts into swirling currents

that lie thickly over the loving--sticky--web,

which we float on in synch. 

Pictur-y :D

Which one is better?

OR

Personally... I think the first was much simpler and perhaps better...?

Ellie... interesting. Now we have a sec 1 batch CCA blog, eh?
:D

yay :D
On to writing about rubies and bananas :D

Iridescent

Below is what I wrote for school before. And lo and behold, I have just posted it! :D


The topic was "Iridescent" and I fell in love with the word immediately [without knowing its exact meaning] :)


Enjoy! (or get ready a bucket to puke into)
_________________________________________________________________________________


Iridescent

She takes interest and it stems into an obsession. The invisible spirits plant a simple idea in the depths of her mind, it was a motivation that spurred her on.

Aveline loves everything bright and colourful, especially variety bursting at its peak. Fascination streams about her in nifty strokes, capturing her attraction for the rainbow. It is iridescent, displaying a splay of wild, bold colours that blot her mind with hues of the rainbow. It streaks across her mind in a blistering fever, fuelling her addiction. She sees the world as a prism, the colours at their majestic moments, flitting around the world, painting and dabbing away at the monotony of life. 

They swish around-- lofty wishes that awaken her greed. Those voices are haunting her, running a hypnotic loop around her mind. 

Her fingers swipe across another work, crayon marks swirling into a puddle of illusion. They form lines at first, solitary, before gradually merging and exploring different lands. The lines are jagged, yet smooth, forming a spiral that never ends. She loses herself within the enthralling strokes, as they—the crooked lines-- continue mumbling hoarse incantations. They are dancing, starting out with slow and elegant steps, meant to impress upon first sight. But as the pattern forms, their steps start out sophisticated and rapid, capturing her attention. They rush out a frenzied tempo, bringing her heart into a burst of ecstasy.

The enchantment has worn off, bringing her back to the monochromatic world once more. The voices are worn-out, disappointment lacing their words. Yet their grins widen as they toy with her heartstrings, tugging mercilessly on her greed.

A murmur of appreciation falls from her lips, revealing the awe and desperation behind her words.  It forms a whirlpool of exhilaration in her mind, leaving her heart pounding, overwhelmed with desire and longing. They tempt her once more, slyly fingering her heart (they brush gently against the veins and artilleries, musing tiny circles upon them--drawing a reaction of gushing adrenaline) and showing illusions that her glazed-over eyes reflect. 

'Wouldn't it be nice if the world were iridescent? Thriving over a splay of colours?' they probe, prompting. She nodded with hesitation, gulping. They pat her head reassuringly, their beady eyes narrowing. 

Fresh red started out luscious and seductive, purring as it claimed her heart, the first shade. Following after it was yellow, cheerful and pleasing. It skipped merrily over, wrapping the heart in patterns. The mixture darkened to form orange. Vibrant and passionate, the sparks fly upon arrival of the colour before falling down as glittering dust. Green took over in moments, tranquillity smoothing out the creases of excitement caused by the previous colour.  It gingerly pressed its body against the other layers and melted into the mixture as well. Brown sizzled over the edges of the canvas, creeping towards the centre of the art piece. 

Her plan is executed, drawing her breath away. They chuckle at her innocence, awaiting for the grand finale.

The world is nothing but blobs of colours, jumbled together and moulded together. The lines have given way, taken flight. They arch and push, stretching to the limits before finally breaking apart into atoms, drifting in the air, waiting. But that is only the set-up to the climax. Aveline grips onto her desire, faintly chuckling at how her wishes are coming true. Iridescent, the world will become, displaying a nebula eruption, staining the silk of reality with its dye. The colours are fusing, crossing boundaries and blending together. Aveline giggles and shivers with anticipation. 

Another work of art is in progress, unknown to her. Their eyes glint mischievously and their lips, rotting and rancid, curl up in a smirk. 

Pink daintily lands on the paper, grasping onto purple for support. As its older sister nods in encouragement, pink sighs and merges with the other colours. Purple, in its splendour, trickles away bit by bit, splashing silently into the intricate artwork. The two additions darken the coat's colour. Elegant midnight blue stalks upon the painting. It blows gently onto the surface, delighting in the rough and sandy feel of the canvas upon her silky fingers. It sinks into the rotting moor, what with the many decaying souls of its family. 

She should have known. 'Be careful of what you wish for', they sing mockingly, amused at how easily enchanted she was.

Aveline gasps at the horrifying sight. The putrid concoction of the pigments has corrupted the entire world. The black tugs at her shirt, begging and tugging. They smirk upon their lies, coated with agony, pressing against her body. Their fingers, cold and slimy, run up and down her. She shrieks and cowers, covering her face with her hands-- this has never occurred to her.  They coo in hungry and irritated voices, demanding for more additions. Their hunger is insatiable, but there is another horrible ripping. The ink is leaking from her heart, they claw and gnaw at her ribs, every bone they can find. Internal destruction. 

They haunt the last of her memories. 'Didn't you ask for this?' they question, their eyes burning in delight and mock-hurt, relishing at her horror.

The fusion of the colours turned out black. Ironic. Now they are corrupted, sinful and warped. They drip into another world of red and white. Unsatisfied, twisted thoughts blanket them. Gluttons they are, washing over every area and tainting it black. Now, at last, the jigsaw puzzle is complete and the world can rest in total darkness, utter silence. 

Aveline is lost to the real world forever.

The devils sneer and snort at her. It was the simple fascination of the rainbow, yet they fiddled with her mind, tainting each thought dark and twisting it into a warped world of delusion. Poor girl, she never did deserve this, yet she was happy, relishing in her own iridescent mirage then. They licked at every shriek of despair and cheerfully watched her bright vision fade and blackout. The nightmares she gave them were remarkable and appealing. All they did was to give her a little push, plant that seed in her innocent mind and she took it upon herself to develop it, nurture that seed.
Her entertaining actions (for she was a mere plaything) proved noteworthy and it satisfied their hunger for more pain, torture-- for now. Yet it also brought things to a new height as they glide about in the air, far high above, searching for another curious mind to explore and experiment.

Trying out the Steampunk look

I hope I've gotten it right! The steampunk effect-look kinda thingy.

Aargh, the images are so blurry!

The rectangularish legs. Fish-netting, a little of the lacey parts of this...

THE DRESS. :D With chains and ribbons and laces and stripes. But you can't really see it well.
Personally, I find the right hand design far worse than the left hand one. Ooh, looky at all the wire-ish elements!

The full image, no space for legs :D

The hair reminds me of Cleopatra. She's Faceless! LE GASP.

This is just a close up of the top part of the dress. Very extra. :D

Tralalala. I hope I'll be able to work on more steampunk designs (considering that this is counted as 'steampunk'.) I fell out of Lolita designs already. Maybe I'll create a fusion between the two?
Tralalala. And now I've mastered another type of eye design! :D yay :D

To the picture (it was clear on my phone...) : Y U NO CLEAR?

haha, but everything's alright other than that :D
I wanna keep drawing~! ^^

~o~