a sine curve of inscrutibility

[mousapelli]

you know what pushes my buttons? In the bad way, I mean. When there's fic that's all trendy and emo, and just a huge winding string of adjectives and metaphors that go nowhere, and then at the bottom, there's twenty comments saying "It's BEAUTIFUL. It means SO MUCH. I WEPT. Write more FOREVAR."

so then, while describing this to darkeyedwolf, i wrote the best craptastic paragraph ever:

"the smoke from his cigarette wafted silently, twisting like their lives, making hazy the inscrutible sine curve of his half-smile, a dagger through his heart with its bent edges like a paperclip, the silver of his hair in the moonlight like smoke."

Write your own inscrutible paragraph in my comments. Let loose your inner purple prose!

just please, for the love of christ, don't tell people how deep theirs is. gwar.

Comments

[alestar]

You know, when I was a child my parents took me to the circus and an inscrutible sine curve of a half-smile killed my dad.
For this reason, I WEEP. SO MUCH.

[gmth.livejournal.com]

This is the best comment I have ever read.

[mousapelli.livejournal.com]

*dies*

*send in the clowns plays softly in the background*

[shywild.livejournal.com]

I think I actually died laughing

[musesfool.livejournal.com]

Hey! The inscrutable sine curve of his smile is MINE, MINE DAMMIT.

[mousapelli.livejournal.com]

well then, let's see some purple prose, dammit, woman! I think you should have Remus rhapsodize about tweed or something.

"it was scratching his soul. he deserved it."

[musesfool.livejournal.com]

In the moments just after he transforms back, Remus stares blankly at the dark-haired angel leaning over him, holding a warm tweedy blanket. In the writhing depths of his soul, the many strands of thread making up the tweed represent all the colors of sirius's eyes, grey and blue and black and white and O treacherous silver, storm and sea, midnight dark and dawn's first light, the deadly kiss of the ocean during a storm.

Remus gives in, and

d r o w n s . . .

[mousapelli.livejournal.com]

you're delicate and ponderous use of white space left my phalanges all a-tingle!

[musesfool.livejournal.com]

ooh, tingly!

[marksykins.livejournal.com]

The spacing is what makes this g r e a t.

You're so deep!

[musesfool.livejournal.com]

h e e !

deep and clear as a puddle of mud, that's me.

[darkeyedwolf.livejournal.com]

"it was scratching his soul. he deserved it."

ajdgakshHSGSLA;DSJS

[sociofemme.livejournal.com]

The misty morning swam into view through the hazy mirror of James' insecurity; he'd been talking all through the turbulent night with his beloved, and they had just barely breached the surface of their wistful, hazy vision of peaceful love being torn asunder.


(Two hours later, James announced that he was really getting a divorce because he'd hooked up with a trampy bottle-blonde from western Indiana and she was having his baby. But clearly that's another story.)

[mousapelli.livejournal.com]

did you just call yourself a bottle blonde?

Cause i think you've already written yourself into one piece of purple potter prose (say it three times fast)

[sociofemme.livejournal.com]

Hey now. I deliberately chose a state that I've barely even DRIVEN THROUGH. That was NOT ME.

...Now that I think about that, I think that little aside was a little homage to a Good Omens fanfic. Hmm.


oh, and that wasn't potter fic, by the way. It was actually just a name I picked at random. *g*

[darkeyedwolf.livejournal.com]

Apparently, I only saw the "emo" part of your post. :))

--

The razor's edge casts a sharp half-gleam against the smooth, pale skin of his wrist, reflected only by the jagged cracks in his mirror, the last remains of the glittering glass going crunch-crunch beneath his toes. His mouth is distorted gash; his eyes, shadowed with a pain that no one has tried to understand. Blood -- blood, and yes, it is vibrant and red and beautiful, contrasting starkly with the moonlight that filters through his window, a final soliloquy of loneliness and pain to this masquerade as witnessed by the stars. It slowly wells from the wound on his wrist (curved, like a smile, the last smile he'll ever give) as he counts the drops (one, two, and how did it go? the children's rhyme? he hasn't been a child, not for a long time) and the yearning abyss of nothingness begins to obscure his vision (not that he ever saw, not that he could see, or maybe he was the only one). Death has come. He can feel the goddess of the otherworld, silent and alone, welcoming him with an embrace of darkness, her touch tender like the premium cut at Ryan's steak night.

This is what he wanted.

This is his salvation.

And Yozak slumps to the ground, the pink lace of his dress stained forevermore, and his final thought is that he's beautiful, no matter what they say.

[sociofemme.livejournal.com]

Oh my god. That's the deepest, most profound--I need a moment. Excuse me. *runs off to weep*

[mousapelli.livejournal.com]

see, and you think your fic isn't brilliant.

It's so sad, the stains on his soul and innocence spilling out into the stains of the tragically cheerfully pink frock which covers him like his smile has hidden his pain all this time!

You had me at Crunch Crunch! *swoons*

[marksykins.livejournal.com]

AHAHAHAHAHA. But you ARE beautiful, Lady Biceps!

[instantramen]

I HATE that! It makes it seem like they can't draw worth crap so they can't give us a nice emo picture, but they can't come up with anything resembling a plot either, so they give us something that's neither instead and are all pretentious.

OR:

My soul screams, a bean sídhe mired in the stagnant blood of the line whose end she heralds. The shards of useless rainbows have all worn down to edgeless forgotten ruin, the common song cannot relate the glorious true dream in my eyes. It must! Their angles demand the hot sex!

[shywild.livejournal.com]

His hair fell across the chasm of his face, eyeless eyes like oceans. He felt the salt of the gaze, their joyless smiles slowly breaking upon the world, future a cobwebbed strand above it all.

[meupatdoes.livejournal.com]

Breath hung between us, pregnant with unrequite, like white silence, soft in the sharp air.