Oh shit! She was up to so much in that little movie. Or should we call it a film? Does it really rise to that? Anyway, there was the underwear scene with full on butt crack exposed. There was little mystery. Much laughter. Heartache and redemption. Yep. It was all there. I wonder what he said to her in the end? Did she even hear it above all the noise?
“It’s a difficult situation,” he said, “full of intrigue, deception and unknowns. There’s so much we don’t know, that telling you what little we do know almost seems a waste of time.”
She picked up her motorcycle helmet and put her wrenches in a bag. “Little is better than nothing,” she replied. “And since you don’t have much to tell me, at least it won’t be long before I can get myself right in the middle of things.”
Staring at the trees unique in color which I’ve never seen. Planetary green in a summer scene. So calming i must be within a dream living an illusion got mind machine so intrigued
Lyrikar
i have no idea what this word means what am i going toaddddddd
liz
She felt the intrigue to get to know this man and yet she knew it took two, not one. So in time she learned her efforts were futile and that she needed to give up.
She is the one that fascinates me. Everything about her is just perfect, of course, not “perfect” in societies way. But for me. She does things with so much beauty, and she is just so wonderful. The world would be so boring without her.
“Care to live a life of intrigue?” His voice, soft and silky as the dawns light poured over her ears like fresh water to an open sore. After listening to the coarse laughter that seemed to follow her throughout the market, even feigned kindness was welcome.
“Intrigue?” She asked, innocently enough with a small smile pulling at the corners of her scarlet lips. The blade at her hip found its way into her slender fingers like a snake at the beckoning of it’s master. “I prefer a life of mystery, sir.” She said softly. He lofted a brow at her, leaning in closer.
“Mystery, lady?”
“Oh yes. As in, am I going to kill you now, or later?”
The intrigue in the eyes of Yogi Bear chasing after the cotton-tailed bunny bounding behind the jagged rock piles at the foot of the driveway let to a sudden jerk of the leash that shocked his walker, who lost grip of the leash handle letting him chase.
Estamos sempre sujeitos a isso. No trabalho, na família, na nossa cabeça. Pra quê? Que gosto de fazer as coisas sempre mais difíceis.
Alexandre
The league of intrigue
Of women and men
Seeking the source
Of wanted ness
Of longing
And desire
Mysterious and powerful
Not revealing too much
Yet I give it all away
I will not shut my door to love
Because of vulnerability
And honesty
If a little intrigue is
What you want honey
It’s not going to me be
Lauren
She was so silent in all the uproar that he was immediately intrigued. Silent, and still as a mouse as everyone ran screaming around her. A little smile played around the corners of her mouth, as if she enjoyed some private joke.
There was a certain amount of a strange air that coated his being that made him different from the other men that she had seen before. He was fascinating; he was sophisticated. He was responsible and handsome and intriguing. She would love to spend the rest of her life with someone like that.
She put down the romance thriller she was reading. It was riveting stuff. She stirred her tea absentmindedly, wishing for some intrigue in her life. Things weren’t bad, they were just so achingly dull. Looking across her table at the other patrons of the cafe and their goings-on, she wondered if any of them harbored any exciting secrets.
I am intrigued by the unknown, by the things that have no explanation. Why do we dream? Id that ghost story really true? Life intrigues me. Why am I laughing one day and sad some other day,
Varsha
I don’t know what intrigues me, thats the problem. I spend so much time thinking about what exactly lights my fire, or whatever. I can’t figure it out. I can’t even figure out how I feel as I type this. I don’t know anything right now.
I silently walked down the hall. Not know what to expect. I could feel him pulling me, it intrigued me. Knowing that he was so close but just out of reach.
I was intrigued to find that a small box on the coffee table upon ariving at home one night after working a 19 hour shift at the dinner down the street.
Rachel
The scent wafting towards the young man’s nose was a heady aroma, of cinnamon and spices. It intrigued him, piqued his interest. It was familiar; so very familiar. Slowly, he made his way towards the source, the scent tugging him like a dog on a leash. He just had to see where that smell was coming from.
Bubblewrap
There was a certain intrigue in the way he was telling the story, as if he was trying to make people think that he was holding something back. Ted secretly wanted to be a mystery novelist, so he always tended to do this, but it did sometimes interfere with his job as Public Relations Officer at a Nuclear Reprocessing Facility.
tonykeyesjapan
It was quite mysterious how he disappeared from my life. I couldn’t say goodbye and I didn’t want to. It felt good to resent him. As if he made things right by sparing me yet another heartbreak to the chain he’d crafted for me since we met.
It wasn’t rocket science… it was however, an incident filled with intrigue. Just how did the cookie jar move from the top of the counter to the floor when no one was home? I sought out the help of a video camera whilst at work and came home to see four furry legs stretched out pawing their way to the hidden goodies. Rufus must have gotten hungry after his nap, and the mystery was solved!
Every woman wants to possess it, ooze it, lit it waft from her–intrigue. That delightful curl of attraction which pulls the one she desires toward her with a passion matching her own into timeless moments where only two exist.
On the subway, Monday morning, I’m tired. I see a guy out of the tiny corner of my eye; he has a wonderful smile. His teeth are white, his eyes are smoldering, and intriguing. The slight feeling in my pants means I’m interested.
Denise
“You never were much for the game, were you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I never was much for political intrigue, no.”
She chuckled quietly, idly swirling the dregs of the wine in her glass. “A pity. With a face and a mind like yours…you could have ruled it.”
“If I had any desire to rule, I expect that would mean something to me, Lady Cassandra.” I said idly, sipping at my own glass.
“The wall of Intrigue” stared back at me as I tried to ease into my surroundings. The day was just getting started, and I already felt like I’d been there for hours. The room was spinning, my head was aching, and the tour hadn’t even started yet.
Maggie
“So tell me, is the spy act supposed to intrigue me, or do I need to keep walking?”
“What do you mean? Spy act?”
“Well yeah, what with you hiding in the shadows and stuff.”
“I’m not hiding, and you shouldn’t have even seen me.”
“Are you a cop? Like undercover or something? If you are, you have to tell me, its the law.”
“No, I’m not a cop and I never was.”
“Then what are you?”
“Dead. I’ll fade in the sunlight, and I’m not ready to go.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“…”
“Right?”
“…”
“Well, damn. You weren’t.”
mae
That was intriguing to me. There was a thought of whether or not I was wondering something for myself, or because the prompt told me to write about the idea of something intriguing me. I guess I’m stuck in a paradoxical loop, or a catch-22 where I’m wondering about something that is telling me to wonder.
runlola
When you see some one across the room, across the bar, and you respond on the cellular level, and you are intriuged and getting into an intrigue, and they are intriguing and you are caught on the hook, caught in the web of intrigue and response and desire and all that weird shit, all wrapped up in one response.
What you have. It’s a simple thing. It’s a small affair between the bedsheets, and nothing good is going to come of it, but that’s something you already know.
He’s gasping, sighing, wriggling underneath you as you slip onto him, your lips rubbing tranquil onto the rough scrape of his cheek. You whispered into his trembling ear, “yield,” as you rub yourself, lower yourself into new depths of peasantry. “silence,” you breathe into him, and you lean down to steal the sigh he gives to you.
Intrigue. Wisps of smoke. Shadowy figures lurking just out of the realm of vision. A mask. A deception.
C
You don’t create any intrique for me. So why should I pay attention you? I don’t give a single flying fuck about any and every aspect of you, so why should I waste seconds of my life listening to you?
I find it intriguing how some people manage to deceive themselves in order to be satisfied what they cannot grasp. However, I believe that this motive worsens their mental health. What is there to believe when it is not there?
Yuhan
She intrigued him. That was simply it. He had no way of knowing who she was, where she came from, or why she was there. When it came to the girl with the blue glasses, there wasn’t a why or how. She just was.
It was her knobby knees and the way she delicately held her plastic cup, her posture and her crooked smile and boisterous laugh, but really…it was everything.
Maddy
The suspense was killing me. I sat on the edge of my seat, imagining the wind in my hair as we whizzed along on the motorcycle on the narrow London backstreets. The smell of intrigue was in the air and the dew of morning hung heavy in the dawning light.
Man of mystery. Or just a boring old fart. Intrigue makes you think. If you question yourself you may surprise yourself. Who know what answers you’ll ocme up with. You may even change the way you think and feel about something or someone.
Oh shit! She was up to so much in that little movie. Or should we call it a film? Does it really rise to that? Anyway, there was the underwear scene with full on butt crack exposed. There was little mystery. Much laughter. Heartache and redemption. Yep. It was all there. I wonder what he said to her in the end? Did she even hear it above all the noise?
“It’s a difficult situation,” he said, “full of intrigue, deception and unknowns. There’s so much we don’t know, that telling you what little we do know almost seems a waste of time.”
She picked up her motorcycle helmet and put her wrenches in a bag. “Little is better than nothing,” she replied. “And since you don’t have much to tell me, at least it won’t be long before I can get myself right in the middle of things.”
Staring at the trees unique in color which I’ve never seen. Planetary green in a summer scene. So calming i must be within a dream living an illusion got mind machine so intrigued
i have no idea what this word means what am i going toaddddddd
She felt the intrigue to get to know this man and yet she knew it took two, not one. So in time she learned her efforts were futile and that she needed to give up.
A paw poked into a box, spies, what keeps the water cooler corner populated.
She is the one that fascinates me. Everything about her is just perfect, of course, not “perfect” in societies way. But for me. She does things with so much beauty, and she is just so wonderful. The world would be so boring without her.
“Care to live a life of intrigue?” His voice, soft and silky as the dawns light poured over her ears like fresh water to an open sore. After listening to the coarse laughter that seemed to follow her throughout the market, even feigned kindness was welcome.
“Intrigue?” She asked, innocently enough with a small smile pulling at the corners of her scarlet lips. The blade at her hip found its way into her slender fingers like a snake at the beckoning of it’s master. “I prefer a life of mystery, sir.” She said softly. He lofted a brow at her, leaning in closer.
“Mystery, lady?”
“Oh yes. As in, am I going to kill you now, or later?”
The intrigue in the eyes of Yogi Bear chasing after the cotton-tailed bunny bounding behind the jagged rock piles at the foot of the driveway let to a sudden jerk of the leash that shocked his walker, who lost grip of the leash handle letting him chase.
Estamos sempre sujeitos a isso. No trabalho, na família, na nossa cabeça. Pra quê? Que gosto de fazer as coisas sempre mais difíceis.
The league of intrigue
Of women and men
Seeking the source
Of wanted ness
Of longing
And desire
Mysterious and powerful
Not revealing too much
Yet I give it all away
I will not shut my door to love
Because of vulnerability
And honesty
If a little intrigue is
What you want honey
It’s not going to me be
She was so silent in all the uproar that he was immediately intrigued. Silent, and still as a mouse as everyone ran screaming around her. A little smile played around the corners of her mouth, as if she enjoyed some private joke.
There was a certain amount of a strange air that coated his being that made him different from the other men that she had seen before. He was fascinating; he was sophisticated. He was responsible and handsome and intriguing. She would love to spend the rest of her life with someone like that.
The unsightly eyes peered, the unsightly nose sniffed, the unsightly hands shook it till the unsightly rose miffed
She put down the romance thriller she was reading. It was riveting stuff. She stirred her tea absentmindedly, wishing for some intrigue in her life. Things weren’t bad, they were just so achingly dull. Looking across her table at the other patrons of the cafe and their goings-on, she wondered if any of them harbored any exciting secrets.
Intrest imagination excitement wonder investigation unusual surprise mystery
I am intrigued by the unknown, by the things that have no explanation. Why do we dream? Id that ghost story really true? Life intrigues me. Why am I laughing one day and sad some other day,
I don’t know what intrigues me, thats the problem. I spend so much time thinking about what exactly lights my fire, or whatever. I can’t figure it out. I can’t even figure out how I feel as I type this. I don’t know anything right now.
I silently walked down the hall. Not know what to expect. I could feel him pulling me, it intrigued me. Knowing that he was so close but just out of reach.
Dark eyes stared from across the table, containing unabashed intrigue. Her heart thudded, and she felt blood flood to her face.
I was intrigued to find that a small box on the coffee table upon ariving at home one night after working a 19 hour shift at the dinner down the street.
The scent wafting towards the young man’s nose was a heady aroma, of cinnamon and spices. It intrigued him, piqued his interest. It was familiar; so very familiar. Slowly, he made his way towards the source, the scent tugging him like a dog on a leash. He just had to see where that smell was coming from.
There was a certain intrigue in the way he was telling the story, as if he was trying to make people think that he was holding something back. Ted secretly wanted to be a mystery novelist, so he always tended to do this, but it did sometimes interfere with his job as Public Relations Officer at a Nuclear Reprocessing Facility.
It was quite mysterious how he disappeared from my life. I couldn’t say goodbye and I didn’t want to. It felt good to resent him. As if he made things right by sparing me yet another heartbreak to the chain he’d crafted for me since we met.
It wasn’t rocket science… it was however, an incident filled with intrigue. Just how did the cookie jar move from the top of the counter to the floor when no one was home? I sought out the help of a video camera whilst at work and came home to see four furry legs stretched out pawing their way to the hidden goodies. Rufus must have gotten hungry after his nap, and the mystery was solved!
Every woman wants to possess it, ooze it, lit it waft from her–intrigue. That delightful curl of attraction which pulls the one she desires toward her with a passion matching her own into timeless moments where only two exist.
On the subway, Monday morning, I’m tired. I see a guy out of the tiny corner of my eye; he has a wonderful smile. His teeth are white, his eyes are smoldering, and intriguing. The slight feeling in my pants means I’m interested.
“You never were much for the game, were you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I never was much for political intrigue, no.”
She chuckled quietly, idly swirling the dregs of the wine in her glass. “A pity. With a face and a mind like yours…you could have ruled it.”
“If I had any desire to rule, I expect that would mean something to me, Lady Cassandra.” I said idly, sipping at my own glass.
“The wall of Intrigue” stared back at me as I tried to ease into my surroundings. The day was just getting started, and I already felt like I’d been there for hours. The room was spinning, my head was aching, and the tour hadn’t even started yet.
“So tell me, is the spy act supposed to intrigue me, or do I need to keep walking?”
“What do you mean? Spy act?”
“Well yeah, what with you hiding in the shadows and stuff.”
“I’m not hiding, and you shouldn’t have even seen me.”
“Are you a cop? Like undercover or something? If you are, you have to tell me, its the law.”
“No, I’m not a cop and I never was.”
“Then what are you?”
“Dead. I’ll fade in the sunlight, and I’m not ready to go.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“…”
“Right?”
“…”
“Well, damn. You weren’t.”
That was intriguing to me. There was a thought of whether or not I was wondering something for myself, or because the prompt told me to write about the idea of something intriguing me. I guess I’m stuck in a paradoxical loop, or a catch-22 where I’m wondering about something that is telling me to wonder.
When you see some one across the room, across the bar, and you respond on the cellular level, and you are intriuged and getting into an intrigue, and they are intriguing and you are caught on the hook, caught in the web of intrigue and response and desire and all that weird shit, all wrapped up in one response.
What you have. It’s a simple thing. It’s a small affair between the bedsheets, and nothing good is going to come of it, but that’s something you already know.
He’s gasping, sighing, wriggling underneath you as you slip onto him, your lips rubbing tranquil onto the rough scrape of his cheek. You whispered into his trembling ear, “yield,” as you rub yourself, lower yourself into new depths of peasantry. “silence,” you breathe into him, and you lean down to steal the sigh he gives to you.
The intrique of which I write is plentiful.
Intrigue. Wisps of smoke. Shadowy figures lurking just out of the realm of vision. A mask. A deception.
You don’t create any intrique for me. So why should I pay attention you? I don’t give a single flying fuck about any and every aspect of you, so why should I waste seconds of my life listening to you?
I find it intriguing how some people manage to deceive themselves in order to be satisfied what they cannot grasp. However, I believe that this motive worsens their mental health. What is there to believe when it is not there?
She intrigued him. That was simply it. He had no way of knowing who she was, where she came from, or why she was there. When it came to the girl with the blue glasses, there wasn’t a why or how. She just was.
It was her knobby knees and the way she delicately held her plastic cup, her posture and her crooked smile and boisterous laugh, but really…it was everything.
The suspense was killing me. I sat on the edge of my seat, imagining the wind in my hair as we whizzed along on the motorcycle on the narrow London backstreets. The smell of intrigue was in the air and the dew of morning hung heavy in the dawning light.
Man of mystery. Or just a boring old fart. Intrigue makes you think. If you question yourself you may surprise yourself. Who know what answers you’ll ocme up with. You may even change the way you think and feel about something or someone.