FemaleNew ZealandMember since 25 Sep 15Last online 9 months ago

Hello world! Peppermint Princess here and at your service *hat flourish*! Ironically I actually don't like peppermint, but I am a princess. In a way.
So who is Peppermint Princess? She's pleonastic, persistent, perspicacious, positive, a fan of the colour purple, and in no way a perfect princess. Also, the letter 'p' has begun to look weird to her.


Princess Peppermint paced the platform impatiently, pining for the Prince Pleonastic who promised to play Pac-Man with the Princess promptly after practicing a piece on the piano. Peppermint herself couldn't perform, as she would always pound on the piano and pass up any possibilities of playing pianissimo.

  • Peppermint Princess

    mumbled "Writing Piece/First Mumble"

    Hello everyone! Peppermint Princess here with her first ever Movellas mumble. @[Sanguine] and I decided to do a little creative writing exercise instead of any schoolwork over a study period, and here is my (unedited) piece from that. (Personally, I think Sanguine's piece is much better than my own) Obviously since it is unedited, I would love some constructive criticism.


    The girl skipped gaily along the muddy road, taking no mind of the downpour around her. Bouncing around her thighs, the pink polka dot dress pirouetted at every step like an unusually large slug. A fat, wet slug. Alongside it swung an upside down umbrella, the bananas of its yellow print cover turned up in huge grins. How odd they found it to not be open in such weather. If they were to be taken out of the house, would it not make sense for them to be properly used? Unfortunately for them, the bananas would not be raised towards the sky on that particular day. Maybe it was because the girl hated the concept of being dry.

    The girl’s polka dot slug dress cheerfully slurped at each step, absorbing more and more liquid in the downpour. Soon, it thought, it would be big enough. Big enough to consume the little girl who wore it like the lining of a skirt, and then overthrow the world of the pathetic meat-bags and label itself the Slug King. Soon-to-be Slug King was also contemplating where it had heard the number 42. It seemed like an important and universal question that needed answering, but the slug couldn’t for the life of it decide where before it had heard the number.
    Wait, it thought. This is unimportant. Focus on the world domination.

    The girl, meanwhile, was having an intense and spiritual connection with a puddle. Intense and spiritual meaning she was standing in a giant puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. And it was this puddle lapping against her already sopping wet body that finally had her begin to cry. Loudly.

    The slug decided that this was the moment it had been waiting for, that it was now large and fat enough to begin its master plan. Preparing itself, it attempted to leap from the irritatingly loud host child and into a life of luxury and dominating rule. But the slug, which was still just the hemline of the sopping girl’s polka dot dress, only got about three centimetres before creating a large rip in the fabric, promptly killing the imaginative and unreal slug and causing the girl to cry even louder in the pouring rain.
    Molly Looby
    4 years ago
    1 Like
    I love it. <3
    Peppermint Princess
    1 Like
    Thanks @[Molly Looby]!