Describe eye contact in prose

attach the special someone eyes' aswell

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She made eye contact with me. I immediately started farting and cumming at the same time.

she looked at me with those emerald orbs

She looked at me, I looked away, I wonder how ugly she thinks I am.

Limpid, dark purple pools catch and cast tiny reflections from the city lights around us, like shards of broken neon glass shining from the bottom of a pair of crystalline lavender ponds, calling out to be claimed, beckoning you on to dive deep and take them. Sparkling through the dim, hazy veil of twilight, those gleaming pools shine like mysterious, liquid portals to another world, an unknown world, maybe a dangerous world... and yet, despite the risk, the potential hazard inherent to the strange and the alien, the promise of the thrill of the unknown, the newness of the exotic shines on, daring you to take the plunge, challenging your determination, teasing and tantalizing you to sink down into those watery wisterian abyss. You can't help but wonder, staring straight into them unblinkingly, if you give in to the temptation of those soft, glistening, dark purple pools and submerge yourself in their pellucid depths, will you ever rise again? If you relent to the thrill and sink, if you dive deep into that seductive, shimmering, strange Neptunian world of black and purple, will you ever be able to return to the surface?

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very cringe

You need an editor sunshine

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So far the best description of eye contact and kissing ive read in a novel was from The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea

Fanfiction. Everytime I see large paragraphs for eyes, I think Twlight or Fanfiction.

Cold air blew my scarf to the side, and the side walk shocked my knees with every step. The morning street carried the commuters echo through the city and I traveled in it's hum. A train horn blew at the same instant distant tires schreeched. I enjoyed the melancholy of the hostile morning, It comforted me on my many lone trots to the bus stop. I enjoyed being a vague dot on the road side, bundled up in the potential of my day. I arrived to my bus stop with it's window panes fogged, and I could see a mass sitting on the inside. I walked around it's short wall and peered in. By curious nature of a bird looking into a worm hole my gaze was tight and my eyes were cold, ready to make judgement.
I was unprepaired, as I was met with a returning glance. Their eyes turned to me like an old hickory clock, methodical yet extraordinarily archiac, as if their thought process strained to be human. Their pupils failed to respond to my alien presence, and the scabbed eye snot seemed to plug any idea of self awareness from their mind.
I looked away.

I really hope you didn't post this thinking it was actually any good.

>Nobody likes my purple prose
F-F-FUCK YOU NIGGERS!

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someone post this on reddit and link it here.

With a glance, we touched each other with our eyes, and for a moment, embraced in our imaginations.

So....is this the power of....Euro hours?... Woah.

Between the bee-lined eyes was lust

kek

I passed by and involuntarily made eye contact with her. My eyes rushed to the other side, which would have not been so embarrasing if my head didn’t tilt in the same direction.

Her eyes, bright like the sun and blue like the ocean, reminded me of the days when we first met at the beach and saw my reflection in them. I was engulfed by her presence. With our souls connected, I saw myself in her life, trough the sky blue eyes.

we clashed our gazes; nothing came of it.

Iv only seen black peoples be able to do that eye thing, is it a genetic thing?

Sounds like it was written by a woman or an autist who considers themselves to be mysterious.

neets have arisen now

Your girlfriend's a cute

She would turn away and laugh whenever he spoke to her. Only when their eyes met did she stop. A gazelle who met her lion. There was God's beauty.
Ok boys I only do scientific writing (PhD and that) so I can't write creatively for shit since I haven't done it since high school.

>Purplesmart
Good taste

Eye contact in a story is amateurish. Only zoomers write that shit because they're so autistic and sheltered they think looking someone in the eye holds significant meaning.

He entered that flesh-orb. Prodding with his own. Fluids synchronized, vibrations pulsed, approaching unison. Revolutions about those binary planets grew ever smaller. And smaller they got still, accelerateing till their atoms dispersed. They never truly sperated again, each other's pieces scattered throughout their own.

Their eyes met, blinding one and worshipping the other. The heat was incredible, yet so far away as to feel only caressing. Ow foock! Me eye! The sailor howled, cursing the light which gazed back upon him.

then get #off_my_4channel_sweatheart

The boy and girl locked eyes for a moment. At the moment, their eyes were the focus of the entire universe to them. Four black holes parallel, a hidden world behind them. The boy's heart jumped. He was lonely, and in this brief moment, he felt a warm connection with this girl he didn't even know. He felt their two souls interlocking. To the girl, however, it was nothing. Just being polite and social. The boy thought about her eyes for the rest of the day until he fell asleep. The girl forgot about his eyes the moment they were separated.

Their eyes found each other, and for a moment, locked in place, held by some magnetism almost felt. It was the first time he had experienced this moment with her in the flesh, and all of his most fantastical imaginings didn't prepare him for the visceral reaction it would elicit so suddenly.
His heart jumped, throbbed, and then ached, all in a span shorter than the blink that wouldn't dare separate this moment into fragments of what was once his wildest dream.
He drank in the knowledge of the shared connection, even if the thoughts that lay behind those eyes didn't mirror his own elated state. Just knowing that for a second (had it been longer?), he was as much her universe as she had always been his. He looked deeper, trying to excavate as much as he could from this heaven he found himself. His eyes were searching, ravenous, but he was dismayed to find that in their searching, they discovered only a vacant stare held by a far-off memory or some other tangential train of thought she had lost herself in.
He broke the one-sided connection and returned to his onions latte, not out of disappointment or shame, but because, as always was the case, OP is a fag.

good pone

Only those with the lineage of Yakub can see beyond, nigga.

I looked at her.
She looked at me and then away.
I looked down at her feet.
I got a boner.

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he looked in someones elses eyes not because he wanted to, infact he would stare at the cement every time he walked, but he knew he should be making eye contact. he forgot to blink and came across creepy

I fell in. A gaze worth thrice my years in wisdom, composed of a gleaming cerulean that, for the eternity of that moment, invited itself into my inner space. The water is cold but I pay it no mind; it makes a change from my usual brine of sweat and tears.
I hope she looks at me again tomorrow.

Hey trixie, I couldn’t help but notice you checking out my eyelashes, how about you and I go upstairs and make out?

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Viewing a face just as it is . . . Impossible if one of my stares is absent in the same instance in which I gaze with intensity . . . In other words: as if my two eyes were enemies decided to interfere one another: ... the absent eye deforms and transforms what it collects ... the faithful witness, the present eye . . . The absentee doesn't solicity from reality more than a black point, a point of departure to project itself to an unknown distance untold where to tinker with the barely glimpsed perpetual hole of absence . . . The other eye, on the contrary, stares in an overwhelmingly just manner . . . More in vain it requests my assistance, as my favourite continues to be the eye that invites to go far from the view, far from the viewed . . .

. . . the impossible, it rides the gorge . . .

"Dream of absence and not of pleasure. Absence is more evil than joy, evil, the necessity to negate the order without which one could not live."

A face in front of your eyes that stare at him and please: do not stare without seeing . . . When you stare at his face, — for passion, for necessity such as breating — it happens, and from this you find out much later, that you don't even stare at him . . . But you did stare at him, you did drink as only a droughty person like you knows . . .

Now you're in the street: you get away invaded by a face that you stared at without cease, but sudden, afloat and unbelieving, you stop, for you come from asking if you've seen his face . . . The fight with the disappearance is strenuous . . . You urgently search in all your memories since you know, thanks to a symmetric repetition of exeperiences, that if you don't remember him in a few instances after having seem him that absence will mean the most desolate days of search . . .

Until you've seen him once again in front of you and you stare at him again, with renewed hope, decided, this time, to stare seriously, truthfully, which, and this you also know, results impossible, as it is the condition of love that you have for him . . .

I don't remember . . . Now that so many hours have passed I ask myself how he was . . . His face is in me, I feel it in my nerves, he floats in my eyes . . . I don't know what to do with this face that I don't remember . . .

You touched my eyes
You touched my eyes
Why did you make contact with my eyes?
Surely you'll have burnt my retinas somewhat
Don't touch my eyes
Eyes are not for touching.

i stared straight at the wall in front of me and yet i felt the somebody's eyes drilling into the side of my head

they look at each other
sex

That was just me dawg.
Don't worry about it.

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based

She pulled her down her trousers. I gasped.

"I thought you said you were a woman"

I gazed at the tumescent member, throbbing, the mighty purple glans wiggling a coy wink of prurient delights to come.

"I am - it's a feminine penis"

I looked up at her eyes again. His eyes? Spacious, hypnotic, perfectly orbicular. I was so entranced, so drawn into his stare, it was as though my own eyes detached from their sockets and hovered over to his, into his, only they were still connected to my head via the optic nerve, which was stretched across the room like two long, reddish pink strings of melted cheese. My detached eyes then tilted down to regard her bobbing member.

"But it's bigger than mine..."

"That's OK, my urethra has been amply stretched. I can probably fit you. Think of it as an external pussy"
Do you guys want me to keep going with this?

look at the picture you RETARDS

>trousers
Wew, imagine the absolutely shocked expression on my face upon learning that a britbong/leaf wrote something like this.
You got something you want to say about purplesmart, dawg?

I look but theres no contact. I converse but you realize how individual we are. The pinhole earth, orbiting the sun, exalting the light amidst the blanket of black. Camel's eyes beneath the uniform browness is there anything there? I look but she looks past. I lay my earnestness but whats the point? In that light year distance between two, impossible to interpret, each atom is atomized. All that remains is the foregone conclusion which made this possible

>He who will receive that light will not be seen, nor can he be detained. And none shall be able to torment a person like this, even while he dwells in the world. And again when he leaves the world, he has already received the truth in the images. The world has become the Aeon (eternal realm), for the Aeon is fullness for him. This is the way it is: it is revealed to him alone, not hidden in the darkness and the night, but hidden in a perfect day and a holy light.

He spent a moment in her eyes before blinking away, terrified.

OP's mother whimpered in ecstasy as I slowly inserted the knob. All the frustration of raising a mongoloid half negro child melted away in a furious whirlwind of pleasure, and our eyes met as we fucked. She pulled my face in close, whispered her dirtiest fantasies in my ear, and I shot my man batter deep inside, hopefully creating a neurotypical child. In the next room, I could hear snippets of an 8 bit melody bleeding though the screams of autistic rage.

all that i see is my domain.
the realm in my mind.
but something pierced through it.
it was you looking at me looking at everything.
and when i saw you in your own eyes in that brief moment.
i felt ashamed
and looked away.
banishing you from my sight and my mind. only to be remembered as a thing that happened in passing.
just like everything else in my world.