Greed has poisoned men's souls; has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge as made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in man; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all.
3.) Cult Member (Supernatural)
4.) Sherlockian (Cumbercookie)
5.) JOHNLOCK SHIPPER!!!!!!!! *whisper* I also support Destiel.
8.) Charlie Chaplin Lover and Vintage Movie Lover (seen ALL of Chaplin's movies more than once) (They're better black and white)
9.) Lord of the Rings and Hobbit Fanatic
10.) Anime Otaku (favorite voice actor = J. Michael Tatum)
11.) Marvel Lover
I'm 16 years old, I've written a few books which I'm terrified to send into the big hoo-hah companies because I'm kind of a scaredy-cat like that.
I'm an artist, writer, photographer (I want to be once I get a better camera), and reader. I mainly draw fanart and my story OCs.
I guess I'll do watch for watch or whatever the fudge it's called.
My favorite author is John Green and my favorite book by him is Looking For Alaska.
I can dance contemporary and hip-hop.
I'm probably one of the biggest Potterhead (Harry Potter nerd) you'll find on here, along with my two best friends emmy621 and lycoris_flower.
Music takes up my entire Temporal Lobe.
SUPPORTER OF GAY MARRIAGE!! <3
World War II is my most preferred subject.
J’apprends à parler français (I am learning to speak French.)
I want this quote tattooed on my ribs, "Life may be dreary but never the same." -Charles Chaplin
Sayonara, Avoir, Arrivederci, or Chao. :3
www.wattpad.com/user/MaggirySe… (My Wattpad)
Snippy: "I hate you so much right now."
Captain: "Good, bottle it up. Someday you'll spontaneously combust for my amusement."
I stood under an outsized, white tent pitched up in a field of green. The sun wasn’t excruciatingly unbearable for once; it didn’t beat down into your very flesh and cook your innards as per usual. It was, however, in the nineties. At least forty others had joined me under this tent, amongst them my younger sister Ryllie. The custom of this strange event was black tie; every person here wore something under the category of formal; including me – a form-fitting, black dress. Scattered about were gurneys and various people had claimed them to sleep in.
“You should find a gurney,” my sister said to me from on my right. She sat atop one, a blue, hospital sheet draped around her shoulders. Her legs hung off the side and her flats dangled from her toes precariously. I nodded in agreement and scanned the underneath of the tent; no unused ones in sight. The atmosphere had descended into twilight; the air was tepid and clammy, an insinuation of the day’s scorching sun dancing in the fragile air currents that drifted in and out of the tent.
After doing another 360 degree scan of the tent for a free gurney, my eyes landed on somebody – or something – at least thirty feet from my current position. A man, completely bathed in white, knelt down in the grass, his hands fiddling with something, his slender fingers toying with an object. He wasn’t “white” as in Caucasian white; he was literal “absence of all color” white. He was stark nude but he lacked genitalia. His eyes seemed too big for his face and were in a perpetual wide-eyed stare, never once blinking. We locked eyes and for a moment I felt absolute inner terror. Could nobody else see him? But then the fear subsided and washed away, leaving a residue of serenity. Next to him was an empty gurney. I strode over and pulled it back with me, pushing it beside my sister’s. I crawled ontop still donning my dress and shoes, and pulled the hospital sheet up to my chin.
The next morning we were all gathered out onto the field, the sun still sweltering. The tent had disappeared and only fifteen of us remained. Including the White Man. I found him crouched on the grass, his hands on his knees. I ambled up behind him and reached my hands under his arms. I picked him up, his body still staying in the crouched position. My hands sunk into his flesh, almost as if he were a giant stress ball. Rubber balloon skin, sand interior. I began walking across the field and everything vanished. It was like being thrown into a cataleptic void of nothing.
I was suddenly in an old pick-up truck down a country road, the field far off to the left. My sister, however, was driving. I sat in the passenger and leaned across her, staring out the window. “Look,” I said, awkwardly pointing. Standing out in an open pasture were two White Men. “They’re doing a gag. Something like Charlie Chaplin would have done with Chester Conklin.”
“I was going to say it seemed like Chaplin,” Ryllie chimed in. I stared at them; both wore farmer get-ups, one in overalls and a red Stetson (why a Stetson, I don’t know), and the other in a straw hat and boots.
I'm assuming he was completely white because I recently saw the "Little Baby's Ice Cream" advert. Here's a link, just go watch it if you haven't already seen it. And if you have, just watch it again. It deserves to be watched again. www.youtube.com/watch?v=erh2ng…