in mood of Epic Week, and because I'm desperately out of things to draw, I'm opening a raffle for a YCH art piece! for those unfamiliar, it's a predetermined pose that I'll draw your character into. if you want examples of my style, you can find them here.
characters can be furry/anthro or human, but must be feminine in body.
JOINING:
Write me a scene of your character in this position; where are they, what are they thinking about, what are they up to? Entries must be at least 50 words, but there is no max word limit. No anonymous characters, please - I'd prefer not to have the chance of someone trying to join twice.
Finished piece will be lined, shaded, and edited to winner's likings. Almost everything can be customized to fit your character, including body type, face, hair, and background!
Winner will be decided by random name drawing.
DEADLINE: April 27th, 12:30 AM EST.
ENTRANTS:
1) Hikari_Yagaza
2) Cass
3) ollie
4) Mercyinreach
5) DarkCrow
6) ChaosRain16
7) Sweet_Little_Sock
8 ) Dndmama
9) FreeJayFly
10) Storm_Hazel
11) 8_Stars_8
12) Sarvigothe
characters can be furry/anthro or human, but must be feminine in body.
JOINING:
Write me a scene of your character in this position; where are they, what are they thinking about, what are they up to? Entries must be at least 50 words, but there is no max word limit. No anonymous characters, please - I'd prefer not to have the chance of someone trying to join twice.
Finished piece will be lined, shaded, and edited to winner's likings. Almost everything can be customized to fit your character, including body type, face, hair, and background!
Winner will be decided by random name drawing.
DEADLINE: April 27th, 12:30 AM EST.
ENTRANTS:
1) Hikari_Yagaza
2) Cass
3) ollie
4) Mercyinreach
5) DarkCrow
6) ChaosRain16
7) Sweet_Little_Sock
8 ) Dndmama
9) FreeJayFly
10) Storm_Hazel
11) 8_Stars_8
12) Sarvigothe
Florence sat on the building, in the window, looking at the carnage left behind in the wake of that monsters rampage. She tore the mask from her face and returned to her normal form. With a heavy sigh she stared at the broken buildings, the trambled cars and tangled electrical wires.
Not enough. Never enough. She'd resigned herself to that. She couldnt do everything, only what she could. Thats all. It hurt. She didnt want these ruins left behind in every battle she faced. For every evil she brought down, they left more dead, wounded, homeless, suffering people. She wasnt doing enough. Florence knew this.
This was a losing battle. How was she suppost to make lasting change?
How was she going to help these people left devastated in the ruins?
Florence didnt know.
The girl stood, placed her mask on her face, and flew home, feeling more demoralized then ever.
((This is really nice of you! And it was fun to write this. Thank you so much
))
Not enough. Never enough. She'd resigned herself to that. She couldnt do everything, only what she could. Thats all. It hurt. She didnt want these ruins left behind in every battle she faced. For every evil she brought down, they left more dead, wounded, homeless, suffering people. She wasnt doing enough. Florence knew this.
This was a losing battle. How was she suppost to make lasting change?
How was she going to help these people left devastated in the ruins?
Florence didnt know.
The girl stood, placed her mask on her face, and flew home, feeling more demoralized then ever.
((This is really nice of you! And it was fun to write this. Thank you so much
))
Defeat was not an uncommon event among mere mortals; yet in her kingdom built of her own devotion, captured in her own articulated mind, 'failure' tended to be an undesirable option. Thus, consideration for a new path to a brighter future dawned upon the monochrome painted woman - as eerie as he countenance resembled, so too it reflected her morality. Skewed and flawed.
Liquid-black lips resembled that of tar as she pressed them firmly together. Pursing at the landscape beneath her windowsill perch - posture of military-like rigidness of a aristocratic upbringing. Yet still, her presence in the library took-up an uncanny energy that meant she ruled this mansion. That windowsill was not merely a seat to perch on, but it was her throne.
Eyes narrowed violently into thin slivers; examining a few bodies that were being escorted-out through the iron gateway of the front of her mansion. That expression of vengeful nature only lasted awhile longer when a red-haired man looked-up and spotted her through the glass, and she - unforgivingly, stared back.
It was not until he took-up residence inside the vehicle intended to take him away that she found herself a private moment of vulnerability. Slumping-down, her anger transitioned into self-pity. Loathing and mourning that seeped-through the cracks of an emotionless mask. A burdened sigh billowed tresses of her raven hair upon exhale. Gathering-up porcelain legs to join her onto the seat while the sky opened-up and rain began to pour from the ominously grey clouds overhead.
How fitting. The weather as miserable as she now felt. And it was mocking her.
(I needed to write this for this character transitioning into a new life. Thank you for the inspiration!)
Liquid-black lips resembled that of tar as she pressed them firmly together. Pursing at the landscape beneath her windowsill perch - posture of military-like rigidness of a aristocratic upbringing. Yet still, her presence in the library took-up an uncanny energy that meant she ruled this mansion. That windowsill was not merely a seat to perch on, but it was her throne.
Eyes narrowed violently into thin slivers; examining a few bodies that were being escorted-out through the iron gateway of the front of her mansion. That expression of vengeful nature only lasted awhile longer when a red-haired man looked-up and spotted her through the glass, and she - unforgivingly, stared back.
It was not until he took-up residence inside the vehicle intended to take him away that she found herself a private moment of vulnerability. Slumping-down, her anger transitioned into self-pity. Loathing and mourning that seeped-through the cracks of an emotionless mask. A burdened sigh billowed tresses of her raven hair upon exhale. Gathering-up porcelain legs to join her onto the seat while the sky opened-up and rain began to pour from the ominously grey clouds overhead.
How fitting. The weather as miserable as she now felt. And it was mocking her.
(I needed to write this for this character transitioning into a new life. Thank you for the inspiration!)
(thank you so much for doing this!)
When Ana was the one the camera was focused on, her usual confidence seemed to completely melt away and it left behind a lot of fidgeting, a lot of awkwardness, some stiff posture and nervous chuckles; that teenage anxiety about being looked at and being at the center of attention never really left, even as her mind and body grew older. The photographer asked her to pose a certain way, and suddenly, she was time traveling back to being thirteen, sitting in a stool while those yearbook photographers asked her to straighten her back and look at the camera. The fakest smile in the entire world was plastered on her face as she stared at that lens as if someone was holding her at gunpoint, blindling flash—”Okay, next.” Except there was no “next” this time, it was all just Ana, Ana, and more Ana.
It was funny, because she was completely comfortable being the one behind the camera—or, well, as comfortable as she could get when she knew next to nothing about using a camera. Photography was still black magic to her, but she was improving! Hopefully. She didn’t know, but she was feeling more and more confident with every photo she took. This professional photographer that was currently focusing on her would probably look at her amateur photography and scoff.
The photographer had her look to the side, right leg propped up and the other folded down, one arm grabbing the ankle of her right leg and the other resting in her lap. She wasn’t asked to smile, just told to let her face fall into its comfortable, natural little home and stay there. She was wearing a short sleeved white T-shirt, ripped denim jeans, and a backwards baseball cap; the shirt was perfect for making all of her tattoos pop out and pulling your gaze towards her, her turquoise hair rolling and curling just the smallest bit past her shoulders like gentle ocean waves— despite the casualty of her every-day-outfit, everything about her was framed in such an elegant, gorgeous light that highlighted all of the natural little things about her that made her worth photographing, even if it made her squirm just the tiniest bit.
When Ana was the one the camera was focused on, her usual confidence seemed to completely melt away and it left behind a lot of fidgeting, a lot of awkwardness, some stiff posture and nervous chuckles; that teenage anxiety about being looked at and being at the center of attention never really left, even as her mind and body grew older. The photographer asked her to pose a certain way, and suddenly, she was time traveling back to being thirteen, sitting in a stool while those yearbook photographers asked her to straighten her back and look at the camera. The fakest smile in the entire world was plastered on her face as she stared at that lens as if someone was holding her at gunpoint, blindling flash—”Okay, next.” Except there was no “next” this time, it was all just Ana, Ana, and more Ana.
It was funny, because she was completely comfortable being the one behind the camera—or, well, as comfortable as she could get when she knew next to nothing about using a camera. Photography was still black magic to her, but she was improving! Hopefully. She didn’t know, but she was feeling more and more confident with every photo she took. This professional photographer that was currently focusing on her would probably look at her amateur photography and scoff.
The photographer had her look to the side, right leg propped up and the other folded down, one arm grabbing the ankle of her right leg and the other resting in her lap. She wasn’t asked to smile, just told to let her face fall into its comfortable, natural little home and stay there. She was wearing a short sleeved white T-shirt, ripped denim jeans, and a backwards baseball cap; the shirt was perfect for making all of her tattoos pop out and pulling your gaze towards her, her turquoise hair rolling and curling just the smallest bit past her shoulders like gentle ocean waves— despite the casualty of her every-day-outfit, everything about her was framed in such an elegant, gorgeous light that highlighted all of the natural little things about her that made her worth photographing, even if it made her squirm just the tiniest bit.
updated entrants so far! keep in mind that this is open until midnight EST tomorrow. 👀👀
writing 50 words is approximately only 3 long sentences, don't let it intimidate you. for reference this is about forty words.
writing 50 words is approximately only 3 long sentences, don't let it intimidate you. for reference this is about forty words.
Sometimes the darkness that crept into Eloise's dreams was as fleeting as sleep seemed to be. Other times it felt as though it ran on forever. Body twitching and squirming from the startle that had her eyes flying open and her heart pounding in her chest. Somehow she slid out of the bed in the dimness of her bedchambers and onto the floor. It was colder there and started to calm her overheated body that was running on fumes after the last few days of restlessness.
Her hands fell to her legs along the soft fabric of her night gown. Taking in a deep breath she closed her eyes for a second attempting to calm the anxiety that ran rampant in her bones. She could still see his face behind her eyelids. The raven fabric of his cloak. The hood of which covered the top half of his face, eyes hidden from her view; but the curve of his lips crooked for a moment haunted her. Eloise knew he was the one, the one who had killed her husband. Afraid of him - of the cruelty that seeped from his pores and the smirk upon his visage - yet in that moment as she was sitting upon the floor her breath ragged...
She wanted to thank him. For he had saved her life.
Amazing opportunity!
Her hands fell to her legs along the soft fabric of her night gown. Taking in a deep breath she closed her eyes for a second attempting to calm the anxiety that ran rampant in her bones. She could still see his face behind her eyelids. The raven fabric of his cloak. The hood of which covered the top half of his face, eyes hidden from her view; but the curve of his lips crooked for a moment haunted her. Eloise knew he was the one, the one who had killed her husband. Afraid of him - of the cruelty that seeped from his pores and the smirk upon his visage - yet in that moment as she was sitting upon the floor her breath ragged...
She wanted to thank him. For he had saved her life.
Amazing opportunity!
(( Hopefully Jojo works? :> ))
Jojo gave a low sigh as she finally threw her bag down onto the wooden floors of this old, abandoned shack; Dust blew up at the thud of the leather bound backpack, but Jack honestly didn’t care to bother with it. Instead, she took a moment to roll her shoulders, her neck, stretch out her shoulders with a low groan and a few pops here and there from her body; It was appreciative of the sudden stretches.
Jo gave a low sigh through her nose once more, climbing up onto the window frame, pulling a leg under her body to rest her arm atop; The dark wooden frame was thick but old and worn, the windows having been blown or beaten out long ago, whether by wind and time or looters looking for lunch. Whatever the case, Jojo welcomed the breeze the open window offered her as she watched her hound outside the shack.
A small smile came to her face at the crows who were more than happy to have something to play with that wasn’t a scared little rabbit running from their mischief; It made her giggle.
Jojo gave a low sigh as she finally threw her bag down onto the wooden floors of this old, abandoned shack; Dust blew up at the thud of the leather bound backpack, but Jack honestly didn’t care to bother with it. Instead, she took a moment to roll her shoulders, her neck, stretch out her shoulders with a low groan and a few pops here and there from her body; It was appreciative of the sudden stretches.
Jo gave a low sigh through her nose once more, climbing up onto the window frame, pulling a leg under her body to rest her arm atop; The dark wooden frame was thick but old and worn, the windows having been blown or beaten out long ago, whether by wind and time or looters looking for lunch. Whatever the case, Jojo welcomed the breeze the open window offered her as she watched her hound outside the shack.
A small smile came to her face at the crows who were more than happy to have something to play with that wasn’t a scared little rabbit running from their mischief; It made her giggle.
((Because I haven't used her in forever...))
Lea sat on the windowsill as the leaves waved and blew against the wind. She wasn't feeling too good, so she decided to stay inside for the day. However, she promised her parents to watch for her brother while they went out. Lea sat in that position-right leg bent, right arm wrapping it-and gazed out the window.
As she stared out the window, she wondered what her friends were up to: Kierra and her kids, where Odeda went, and how Kris was holding up. Ever since that fateful meeting with the Wise Woman, her life had never been the same. To make things even more worrisome, she started feeling nostalgia about her time at the academy. She sighed as her thoughts swayed inside her mind to match the tempo of the wind.
Once again, the trees swayed in the wind, and Lea peered outside. Her neighborhood friends were playing outside, as well as her brother, Cian. Isla and Morrow were out there as well. Cian, Isla, and Morrow looked up at the window and saw Lea. She waved to them, and they waved back. Another sigh was taken, and Lea looked away. She wished she could be out there, listening to her element and hanging out, but she couldn't. A deep sadness took over, and she felt alone.
Lea sat on the windowsill as the leaves waved and blew against the wind. She wasn't feeling too good, so she decided to stay inside for the day. However, she promised her parents to watch for her brother while they went out. Lea sat in that position-right leg bent, right arm wrapping it-and gazed out the window.
As she stared out the window, she wondered what her friends were up to: Kierra and her kids, where Odeda went, and how Kris was holding up. Ever since that fateful meeting with the Wise Woman, her life had never been the same. To make things even more worrisome, she started feeling nostalgia about her time at the academy. She sighed as her thoughts swayed inside her mind to match the tempo of the wind.
Once again, the trees swayed in the wind, and Lea peered outside. Her neighborhood friends were playing outside, as well as her brother, Cian. Isla and Morrow were out there as well. Cian, Isla, and Morrow looked up at the window and saw Lea. She waved to them, and they waved back. Another sigh was taken, and Lea looked away. She wished she could be out there, listening to her element and hanging out, but she couldn't. A deep sadness took over, and she felt alone.
(Edit, comp glitched on me while writing this-- will have to repost, sorry!)
Ivy spun a bit on her toe as she walked down the empty long hallway, the sounds of the cheers in the basement had peaked her Curiosity in more ways then one. Walking down the overly decorated hallways and down too the main floors, the cheers getting louder. She giggled a bit as she twisted the door knob and walked down the red velvet like stairs.
In home fight betting was something interesting now wasn’t it? The two men in the ring fighting to what he the death as overly dressed people watched with wine and champagne in hand. The smell of perfume, blood, sweat and booze stung Ivys nose as she walked over to her father.
Ivy gently kissed the older mans cheek before leaving on the wall and sliding down it. Watching the ring with the two men inside it, as the older man gently placed his hand on Ivys head. Stroking it gently as they both watched as one of the men fell down in hard thud and the cheering only got louder in the basement.
{ she’s over 18 in this btw}
In home fight betting was something interesting now wasn’t it? The two men in the ring fighting to what he the death as overly dressed people watched with wine and champagne in hand. The smell of perfume, blood, sweat and booze stung Ivys nose as she walked over to her father.
Ivy gently kissed the older mans cheek before leaving on the wall and sliding down it. Watching the ring with the two men inside it, as the older man gently placed his hand on Ivys head. Stroking it gently as they both watched as one of the men fell down in hard thud and the cheering only got louder in the basement.
{ she’s over 18 in this btw}
With a soft groan Winter leans back against the crumbling stone wall of the temple's inner sanctum. A small chuckle escapes her lips, which quickly grows into a hearty chuckle, which finally bursts forth in a side splitting guffaw. Dang that had been fun! She hasn't seen a hallway that trap laden in years! It hadn't gone perfectly of course. The stone dart still sticking out of her left arm is evidence enough of that. Still, she's alive and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins feels amazing.
Once the adventuress manages to get her slightly giddy laughter under control she grits her teeth and reaches up to yank the spike out of her body. A shrill scream resonates through ancient, untouched corridors. It is several deep breaths before Winter can bring herself to dig a wrap of bandages out of her pack. Wrapping up one arm with only the other arm to do the work isn't easy, but self sufficiency is this woman's middle name. In a matter of minutes the bleeding has stopped, though the sleeve of her shirt is ripped and blood soaked. Ah well.
Leaning back once more Winter lets out a long sigh of relief. She's going to need a few minutes, but once her strength has returned, the Orb of Ashka'shakar will be nestled safely within her bag. That is if she can survive the next hallway...
Once the adventuress manages to get her slightly giddy laughter under control she grits her teeth and reaches up to yank the spike out of her body. A shrill scream resonates through ancient, untouched corridors. It is several deep breaths before Winter can bring herself to dig a wrap of bandages out of her pack. Wrapping up one arm with only the other arm to do the work isn't easy, but self sufficiency is this woman's middle name. In a matter of minutes the bleeding has stopped, though the sleeve of her shirt is ripped and blood soaked. Ah well.
Leaning back once more Winter lets out a long sigh of relief. She's going to need a few minutes, but once her strength has returned, the Orb of Ashka'shakar will be nestled safely within her bag. That is if she can survive the next hallway...
(This is actually super awesome! I like that it facilitates with getting the creative flow going. :>)
It was another one of those nights again. The air was chill, and the surroundings silent. Verta turned her gaze up to the two moons that hung in the night sky above. Both were full, which meant it would have been a long night of worry and concern.
Approaching her open window, the woman had a seat on the sill. Pulling a knee up to her chest and getting comfy, Verta sighed and looked longingly out to the city off in the distance. She knew that her love would not be there for the night. She knew that he would not return till early in the morning. While she trusted his ability to maintain his affliction, his... curse... there was always a lingering fear that there would be a night or a time where she would be left waiting the next day. There was a lingering fear that someone else would tell her that Cyrus had to be taken into custody, or worse.
A gentle knock was heard, and it gave Verta a small start before she sat up a little straighter and looked in its direction. Clearing her throat, she simply said: "enter."
The door opened, and one of the maids who worked at the estate entered with a tray. The tray had a small kettle and a teacup on it along with a mini pitcher of cream, and a small bowl of sugar cubes.
"Your tea, ma'am..." the maid said, coming in and placing the tray down on Verta's desk. Making sure the tray was straightened before turning to face the horned woman sitting at the window, the maid seemed hesitant on leaving.
"Ma'am...?" the maid started.
"Yes?" Verta replied, giving the maid her attention.
"Forgive me if I overstep my boundaries..." the maid continued, struggling with how to word what she wanted to say. "Um... shall I prepare anything for Cyrus for when he returns?"
"No... no, that's fine," Verta said with a sigh. "He won't be home til morning."
"Oh..!" the maid seemed surprised, but gave a polite bow. "Very well then. I shall excuse myself. A good night to you, Ms. Devonici."
"And to you, Aylah," Verta said in kind. She watched the maid exit the room and close the door behind her. With a sigh, Verta pulled her jacket a little more tightly around her before relaxing back against the sill and looking back out to the city skyline.
It was another one of those nights again. Verta would be there till morning. Worry was the biggest influence to her insomnia as she simply just waited for Cyrus, her love, to come back home.
It was another one of those nights again. The air was chill, and the surroundings silent. Verta turned her gaze up to the two moons that hung in the night sky above. Both were full, which meant it would have been a long night of worry and concern.
Approaching her open window, the woman had a seat on the sill. Pulling a knee up to her chest and getting comfy, Verta sighed and looked longingly out to the city off in the distance. She knew that her love would not be there for the night. She knew that he would not return till early in the morning. While she trusted his ability to maintain his affliction, his... curse... there was always a lingering fear that there would be a night or a time where she would be left waiting the next day. There was a lingering fear that someone else would tell her that Cyrus had to be taken into custody, or worse.
A gentle knock was heard, and it gave Verta a small start before she sat up a little straighter and looked in its direction. Clearing her throat, she simply said: "enter."
The door opened, and one of the maids who worked at the estate entered with a tray. The tray had a small kettle and a teacup on it along with a mini pitcher of cream, and a small bowl of sugar cubes.
"Your tea, ma'am..." the maid said, coming in and placing the tray down on Verta's desk. Making sure the tray was straightened before turning to face the horned woman sitting at the window, the maid seemed hesitant on leaving.
"Ma'am...?" the maid started.
"Yes?" Verta replied, giving the maid her attention.
"Forgive me if I overstep my boundaries..." the maid continued, struggling with how to word what she wanted to say. "Um... shall I prepare anything for Cyrus for when he returns?"
"No... no, that's fine," Verta said with a sigh. "He won't be home til morning."
"Oh..!" the maid seemed surprised, but gave a polite bow. "Very well then. I shall excuse myself. A good night to you, Ms. Devonici."
"And to you, Aylah," Verta said in kind. She watched the maid exit the room and close the door behind her. With a sigh, Verta pulled her jacket a little more tightly around her before relaxing back against the sill and looking back out to the city skyline.
It was another one of those nights again. Verta would be there till morning. Worry was the biggest influence to her insomnia as she simply just waited for Cyrus, her love, to come back home.
Valerius stared out over the setting sun as it cast it's dying light on the Earth. Everything was bathed in the reddish orange haze almost as though mimicking her eye color. The clouds were also stained anywhere from bubblegum pink to crimson red, the second one making her unconsciously lick her fangs. She kept her leathery bat wings tucked into her shirt, not wanting to catch a wondering person's eye.
After all, she was a wanted teen.
To be honest, Val liked being on the run. After being cooped up in the School for all her life, it felt good to fly with the wind blowing around her dark, coarse hair. She felt lighter in the sky -free, even-, and that is what she enjoyed most about having wings. Despite the literal living Hell she and the other experiments went through -still go through-, her wings gave her something she'd always longed for, but could never quite reach.
Up until recently, she'd never seen the sky, or Sun. Never felt the grass beneath her bare feet, or felt a warm summer breeze caress her face gently. She had been confined to stark white walls, sterile metal beds, blinding hallways, and tests. So many god damn tests...
She learned her lesson very quickly that the Lab-Coats were cruel, and she vowed to die before ever going back. Her escape had been a fluke, really, unplanned, but she'd be damned if she let such an opportunity go to waste. She found the other experiments just outside the School's walls, and together, they all fled. Where to? They didn't know, nor did they care. They all just wanted the same thing; to get as far away as possible.
They still get chased down by Erasers, even today. That doesn't stop Val from sitting on cliff edges, perching in high treetops, or on skyscrapers, and just soaking in the imagery around her. To the young bat-hybrid, this was her freedom.
And she was never letting it go.
The wind howled again, and she smiled a bit. Extending her thin wings, the brunette leaned forwards, and swooped off into the evening air.
This was her version of home.
After all, she was a wanted teen.
To be honest, Val liked being on the run. After being cooped up in the School for all her life, it felt good to fly with the wind blowing around her dark, coarse hair. She felt lighter in the sky -free, even-, and that is what she enjoyed most about having wings. Despite the literal living Hell she and the other experiments went through -still go through-, her wings gave her something she'd always longed for, but could never quite reach.
Up until recently, she'd never seen the sky, or Sun. Never felt the grass beneath her bare feet, or felt a warm summer breeze caress her face gently. She had been confined to stark white walls, sterile metal beds, blinding hallways, and tests. So many god damn tests...
She learned her lesson very quickly that the Lab-Coats were cruel, and she vowed to die before ever going back. Her escape had been a fluke, really, unplanned, but she'd be damned if she let such an opportunity go to waste. She found the other experiments just outside the School's walls, and together, they all fled. Where to? They didn't know, nor did they care. They all just wanted the same thing; to get as far away as possible.
They still get chased down by Erasers, even today. That doesn't stop Val from sitting on cliff edges, perching in high treetops, or on skyscrapers, and just soaking in the imagery around her. To the young bat-hybrid, this was her freedom.
And she was never letting it go.
The wind howled again, and she smiled a bit. Extending her thin wings, the brunette leaned forwards, and swooped off into the evening air.
This was her version of home.
updated entries! still open till tomorrow at midnight.
Ari leans up against a rough brick wall, her hair tangled up in knots and a cigarette dangling between her pointer and middle finger. She puts the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling deeply. The smoke from the cigarette escapes between her plump blush colored lips and out of her nose. She throws the cigarette to the ground and puts it out with a black combat boot she was wearing. The embers die and she is left with only the light of the moon shining down on her. She hears sirens in the distance and sighs. “What a life...” She then jumps from rooftop to rooftop.
How long had she been sitting there, staring out at what looked like the sunset as it faded from blue to orange and then finally to that burst of red and pink before becoming midnight? The little lady Pink sighs, glancing down at her cell phone. Glamorous, glittering, covered in rhinestones she had picked up at the expensive store down the street, the pink and white phone was rather hard to miss when she was looking for it in her bag. That bag, that perfect, perfect bag... Baby pink with white wings on the front, it embodied everything she could ever ask for. It was sitting next to her, not forgotten, but not immediately sought out, either.
Message after message flooded her phone, to the point she turned the ringer off. "I'm tired of hearing about that picture," she whispers to no one in particular. Tears fill her eyes and she lowers her head, resting her forehead on her knees and draping her hands over her ankles. "I just wish they'd leave me alone." Friends, family, anyone that followed her on social media was drumming up attention for Little Lady Pink, the woman with a two by four body and a smile as innocent as an angel's. They saw her coming out of a specific club though, one with a less than exemplary reputation, and someone snapped a photo of her. It was hard to miss her, honestly, because of that waist long pink hair, her pale skin, or the fancy pink clothes she always donned, whether she was working or not.
Being a model for fashion magazines wasn't easy, but she regretted it already. As tears streamed down her face, Pink lifted her head slowly and stared at the stars as they started to wink into life. "I bet they don't care what anyone else thinks of them," she mutters bitterly, staring down at that bedazzled phone and picking it up. "None of this even matters, honestly."
The broken casing lay on the cement sidewalk and Pink looked up a bit higher at the twinkling stars. A smile lights up her expression as she shifts her position, straightening up and offering a rueful smirk. "Stars don't care what anyone this little thinks, so I won't be bothered, either." The determination in her voice is evident as she curls her fingers around the strap of her bag, putting it back over her shoulder.
Content with her decision to move forward and not let this mistake ruin her life, Pink watches the stars for another few minutes. Tomorrow she'd have to purchase a new phone, that was for sure, but like a shooting star, it too would fade into the distance before she realized it.
Message after message flooded her phone, to the point she turned the ringer off. "I'm tired of hearing about that picture," she whispers to no one in particular. Tears fill her eyes and she lowers her head, resting her forehead on her knees and draping her hands over her ankles. "I just wish they'd leave me alone." Friends, family, anyone that followed her on social media was drumming up attention for Little Lady Pink, the woman with a two by four body and a smile as innocent as an angel's. They saw her coming out of a specific club though, one with a less than exemplary reputation, and someone snapped a photo of her. It was hard to miss her, honestly, because of that waist long pink hair, her pale skin, or the fancy pink clothes she always donned, whether she was working or not.
Being a model for fashion magazines wasn't easy, but she regretted it already. As tears streamed down her face, Pink lifted her head slowly and stared at the stars as they started to wink into life. "I bet they don't care what anyone else thinks of them," she mutters bitterly, staring down at that bedazzled phone and picking it up. "None of this even matters, honestly."
The broken casing lay on the cement sidewalk and Pink looked up a bit higher at the twinkling stars. A smile lights up her expression as she shifts her position, straightening up and offering a rueful smirk. "Stars don't care what anyone this little thinks, so I won't be bothered, either." The determination in her voice is evident as she curls her fingers around the strap of her bag, putting it back over her shoulder.
Content with her decision to move forward and not let this mistake ruin her life, Pink watches the stars for another few minutes. Tomorrow she'd have to purchase a new phone, that was for sure, but like a shooting star, it too would fade into the distance before she realized it.
added!
Sparrow stares down into the bustling city. A billion pinpricks of lights spread out before her - the windows of the megacorp buildings, long trails of cars, giant billboards, the spotlight of a police drone, and not a single star in the hazy grey sky. From this distance... it reminded her of home. There was a different mindset, one of community, appreciation for subtle beauty and deliberate gestures.
But this was where she ended up - and she'd managed to make a (somewhat lonely) life in this strange country - with its cod and odd language and music. Would it be possible to ever think of this place as home? At a distance - she could almost imagine it was.
But this was where she ended up - and she'd managed to make a (somewhat lonely) life in this strange country - with its cod and odd language and music. Would it be possible to ever think of this place as home? At a distance - she could almost imagine it was.
and the winner is...
number 3! congrats ollie! send me a dm and we'll get started on what you want for your prize~
i may do a second pulling after i finish the first prize, so stay tuned!
number 3! congrats ollie! send me a dm and we'll get started on what you want for your prize~
i may do a second pulling after i finish the first prize, so stay tuned!
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