Lyric's Written Pictu

Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

Lyric's Written Pictu

Lyric's Written Picturings!


Here's the form!



Preference for Writing Style (e.g. 1st person, old-fashioned, poetry, modern, etc.)

Special Request(s): 



You may request for AEs, Captchas, and OCs, but if you do try to be more detailed (I cannot remember all their personalities and appearances). Also as a forewarning, I used to write dozens of stories of princesses, mermaids, etc. as a kid, so I'm best at fairytale or exaggeratingly creepy picturings, and less good at more modern ones.

Oh, and one last thing: If I don't get to it right away, don't worry! I may just be having a paticularly long day of school and plus there's something wrong with my hand so it hurts when I play piano and sometimes when I type. 

submitted by Lyric, age 13, poetry
(November 18, 2022 - 8:18 pm)






Jaden- he/him

Preference for Writing Style (e.g. 1st person, old-fashioned, poetry, modern, etc.): Modern please? 

Special Request(s): Amanda dislikes Ally, Ally and Lily like Jake but he likes Lily, Rose is a peacekeeper and Jaden is just Amanda's brother


sorry if this is complicated, but can you do them as a group? 

submitted by Milly Sunstar
(November 27, 2022 - 2:29 am)

I'm sorry if some written picturings are taking a while and I know it might be aggravating waiting for them. I was very busy this weekend (despite the fact that I was on break) and I write very very slowly, sometimes at a rate of a few paragraphs an hour. I promise I will get to everyone's request eventually, and as soon as I can. Thank you for your patience, everybody.

submitted by Update!!!!, age 13, It's Lyric
(November 28, 2022 - 1:53 pm)

@Reuby Moonnight, yours is finally ready, after over a week. I may have gone...overboard with the dark undertones. Sorry for the long wait! (I hope I will not have to go on a hiatus) : 


Tonight is unlike all others. The trembling stars are nearly hidden by craggy, pointed rocks and all that is left is the full moon, which seems to pine, losing its splendor and beauty every second. Across the gray, silver-coated landscape the wind wails piteously…or is it the cry of a pack of hungry wolves?

I choose the most hidden, shadowy crevice of all to wait. Rock that no longer remembers the light of day brushes against my back and I listen, watching for sparks of life in the dark of the night.

Isn’t it funny–strange, even–how things transform in the night? How each fold in every mountain becomes deeper and more…terrible–how all that is vibrant and living is sucked away, gradually? And isn’t that perfectly lovely?

At such a late hour, the ruby beads on thread that winds over my arm seem to be stone vines with blood colored fruit–poisonous both to the eyes and to the tongue–and pierce through the moonlight. The velveteen of my dress is still the color of unripe blackberries but my hair, wispy and soaring in the wind, is so dark it is purple, and my eyes are obsidian voids save a glimmer of moon. My shadow is tall, taller than I and my face is a pearly white.

The trees stand in the shadows like long, ghostly tombs. I beckon to them and they draw closer, every branch hanging in silence, every leaf poised. Wolves pad through the damp, fallen leaves towards me and sit obediently. Their amber eyes stare through the rock, through the night.

We all wait, then a rustle sounds in the bushes.

The wolves leap, the trees plummet to the ground…and a scream cuts through the night sky.

submitted by Lyric@Reuby, age 13, black hole
(December 2, 2022 - 8:02 pm)

* claps* Beautifull, I love it. Amazing description. I. Love. It.

submitted by Reuby Moonnight
(December 3, 2022 - 1:30 pm)

You are beyond good at this.

submitted by Hawkstar
(December 7, 2022 - 4:10 pm)