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 Zomfg as if I'm posting something?

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root vegetable

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Number of posts : 52
Age : 25
Registration date : 2009-01-26

PostSubject: Zomfg as if I'm posting something?   Mon Oct 26, 2009 11:47 pm

So, if you've read the other topic in this section of the forum "its about superheros..." this is another little quick scene-type-thing.

---

Izzy lay in bed staring out her window. It was a beautiful night beyond the glass; stars were twinkling in the heavens, and for those who knew what to look for, even some planets were visible.

This was one of those nights, when in ancient and not-so-recently-passed times, great philosophers would look above themselves, and ponder the very essence of life. Sailors would use the same stars that gave birth to the questions to navigate treacherous waters, searching for lands unknown. In times of war, soldiers and civilians would look at stars, and feel hope. It truly was a night of wonder.

Izzy sighed, while keeping her gaze on the inspiring sight in the sky. A passing thought entered her mind, one that was undoubtedly filled with potential, and the result of endless hours of contemplation.

I’m thirsty.

With that earth-shattering revelation, she swung her legs out of bed and padded out of her room, and down the hallway. Alright, she thought. I turn left, and then it’s the third door on the right. Or is it the fourth? She spun around, trying to get her bearings in the pitch black. Ah, shit. Where the hell am I?

Lightly putting one hand against the wall, she closed her eyes, trying to picture the route she had taken the last time she went to the canteen. The tiniest of shivers travelled down her spine, and for a brief moment she lost all sensation. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer the hallway.

Alex was half on half-off her bed, and Meg was sleeping soundly; her pillow on the other side of the room.

Izzy's jaw dropped several inches. “What the hell?” she asked aloud. How did I get back to the room? More than slightly unnerved, and trying to ignore the little part of her brain that was (rationally) stating she had just developed some new form of teleportation powers, she acted without thinking. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she once again envisioned the canteen. And, once again, she wasn’t in the canteen.

A huge corkboard greeted her, covered in overlapping sketches and designs. Though clearly done in haste, the drawings were beautiful in the way their strokes and colours merged sinuously. A laptop hummed quietly on the desk next to the images, a message blinking on its screen.

"Log out: I.ING?" Izzy bit her lip, deciding to ignore the fact that she had somehow used her new gift to wind-up in what was, without a doubt, Ingrid’s studio. After all, the Russian-Chinese woman wasn’t the only artist at the sanctuary, and a quick peek at some of her designs might be all that was need to inspire some new pages in her sketchbook.

She looked around her, although why someone would be guarding Ingrid’s laptop in the middle of the night was beyond her, and hit . Hitting a few keys, Ingrid’s latest pictures were open in front of her. Expecting to find more radical, and maybe a few just-for-laughs costume designs, and perhaps a pop-art or two, what she saw made her gasp.

The pictures were of the team members. And not just of her, Margaret, Finn, Alexandra, and Richard, although they were the most recently done, but each member of the Sanctuary.

Meg’s was power on LCD. She was in the midst of a roundhouse kick; her hair whipping around her face, and a look of concentration mixed with anger in her eyes. Izzy winced involuntarily when she saw the picture; hopefully Ingrid had merely been an observer, and not a receiver to one of the brunette’s attacks. Below were candid sketches of Meg’s various expressions. She was smiling the way she did when Izzy and Alex recounted their latest acts of immaturity, laughing without a care in the world, glaring the way she did before she hit Finn, snarling in the heat of battle, and watching the sunrise.

The same thing was on each of their pages; Finn, at the centre of a sound wave. His body and hands were distorted, as though he was under water and ripples were spreading across the surface, which was exactly how things looked when you saw them through his sound-wave assault. There were sketches of him grinning at what was probably one of his own jokes, scoffing, shouting at some unfortunate soul who would undoubtedly have a ringing sound in their ears for a week, and the look he got whenever life before the explosion was mentioned.

Her own picture was surprisingly pleasing. She was almost all obscured by a shadow, and looking directly at the viewer, her brown eyes intense, as though her JPEG-rendition could actually see who was looking at her, and didn’t appreciate the attention. When she scrolled down, she saw the expressions Ingrid chose were different than what she would have chosen had she done the piece, but then again, who knew what went on inside Ingrid's mind, and drove each one of her increasingly extreme yet stylish ideas? There were sketches of her as she appeared normally; tired, sarcastic, and sniggering. Then there were others; one of her with her eyes closed as she lay in the shade, the look she got when Richard announced that their plans for the day started with training, and the smile she wore when Meg or Alex awarded her with chocolate for doing an impersonation of their old French teacher.

The next one was Alex; the main drawing of her spiralling into the sky on her column of flame. Where the pictures of she, Finn and Meg all had faces that had been angry, or at the very least moody, Alex’s expression was of sheer ecstasy. Clearly, she was not fighting as the others had been, but enjoying her powers for the thrill. The facial sketches below were as eclectic as Izzy’s CD collection; she was trying and failing miserably at holding back a grin, sticking her tongue out, rolling her eyes at a comment some one had made, and ready to turn someone else’s head into kindling.

Richard’s was last. And, Izzy had to admit, it made their broody leader look good. Even though there were no embellishments or background, and Rich wasn’t using his powers, it drew the eye in the way any masterpiece by a Renaissance painter would. His stance exuded power and confidence; there was electricity reflected in his eyes, and his shadow was a bolt of lightning. The facial sketches underneath had captured him at his off moments; when he seemed like a normal teenager, not the leader of a trainee superhero team. He was roughhousing with Finn, engrossed in a movie, rollerblading, and yawning after waking up on a Saturday morning.

A noise behind her made her jump. Quickly, she closed the images and returned the computer to its question of "LOG OUT: I.ING?". She could here footsteps coming, and jumped behind one of the curtains. Oh, shi- she thought, half a second before sneezing. Holding her breath, and using every ounce of will power not to sneeze for a second time, she listened. Ingrid was definitely back in the room, and Izzy could hear her tapping at the laptop. Thinking she would log-off and leave, Izzy let out her breath. And did everything short of swear out-loud when she heard Ingrid’s distinctive heels clicking towards her.

If there was ever a time I needed to magically teleport to the canteen, now would be it, she thought to no one in particular. She closed her eyes, not quite sure of what she was doing, but doing it because it felt right. After all, she was pretty sure that Ingrid was a descendant of Medusa, what with the death glares she gave, and wanted anything but to be on the receiving end the one she was surely wearing now. Come on, canteen! Canteen! Hell, anywhere but here!

The curtain pulled back, as Ingrid’s look of fury was met with the window. Nothing was there.

---

Post edit: Sooooo, I think (think?) I've found all the mistakes; and the amount of them in here maaaaaay have made me cringe in pain when I realized that I'd posted something so embarassingly un-edited aka crappy ><. My apologies to you guys who had to endure them, and thank you for not commenting with "lindsay youre a fucking moron, go READ the shit before you post it so we dont suffer through your mistakes plzkthnx" or something similar, which is what was going through my brain....

ANYWAYS.

so, yeah. It should be fixed? (for the love of EVERYTHING please bring my attention to any lingering ones you see if you decide to re-read this.) Uhmmm oh yeah:

I only now realized/remembered that the triangular brackets "<" ">" don't show up due to their use in HTML codes; one would think I'd remember this from back in ye olde days of pre-teen when I did nothing but computer camps at carleton U over the summerHEY OH RIGHT I WAS GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS. so yes: the text SHOULD read: "Log out:I.ING?" but instead of the quotation marks there should be triangle brackets.

that is all Very Happy


Last edited by root vegetable on Tue Oct 27, 2009 9:12 pm; edited 1 time in total
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MinglerX

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PostSubject: Re: Zomfg as if I'm posting something?   Tue Oct 27, 2009 7:31 pm

As if you posted something! I love you!

I like how relateable (Not a word. Whatever.) your character was. I also like how you introduced people - the pictures were interesting. I liked the last line a lot. There are a few little punctuation mistakes throughout, which you might want to look at, but nothing major. All in all, I am tres excited to see the outcome. Keep writing, dearie. Smile
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Little Monte

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PostSubject: Re: Zomfg as if I'm posting something?   Tue Oct 27, 2009 8:17 pm

You better post everything you write for this. Exciting stuff. And like Serena said I love how you introduced all the characters.
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Traverse Writer

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PostSubject: Re: Zomfg as if I'm posting something?   Tue Oct 27, 2009 8:26 pm

I'm sorry but, Ditto for moi too.

I hate it when people get to say what I wanted in advance. So yeah...

Can't wait for next update! Very Happy
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Dark S3cret
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PostSubject: Re: Zomfg as if I'm posting something?   Wed Nov 11, 2009 6:17 pm

I'm going to be awesome and different and unique and say that:
DIDN'T I ALREADY COMMENT ON THIS ALREADY?

Very Happy
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