What are some good similes for discomfort?
Alright. Alright, I’ll give it a shot, however I’m going to slip some metaphors in the mix. If you see one you want to upgrade to a simile, attempt it – but I wager you see why I left it as a metaphor.
Some great similes for pain. I’m just going to keep up it. A few of these will be winceworthy, no doubt.
- His tooth sang out like a silent alarm – steadily growing in volume.
- His aggrieved balls grieved inwardly, shocked and upset at the sudden degree of her unexpected kneed. That’s terrible. Cancel that.
- ” My bra’s being a bitch today,” she observed, recoiling thoughtfully like someone trying to come up with an apt descriptor for her pain, just employing “like” or “as.”
You know what? Neither 2 nor 3 certify. This numbered list business isn’t assisting. Let me simply clear the mind and … let the pain similes come openly. Easily. Without number.
Also, those were too verbose, too. You didn’t ask total sentences! Just the contrasts, pal! Okay. Concentrate, annn-n-nd … loose
the discomfort was like a knife in the gut
the discomfort resembled a knife in the ass
the discomfort was as a knife in the hand
Hm. Those were all complete sentences, bro. Low-caps and no-punct isn’t fooling anyone! That last one’s kind of uncertain, though: a knife in the hand. Like it! Like it. there were shooting pains like a knife in the hand as he fired his weapon up a one last stand
Dang it, I simply suck at this tonight. Usually I’m pretty alright at the figures of speech. Perhaps it’s the pain?
Hm. Possibly pain is not my muse. All I’m getting is dumb ones.
You know what? I seem like I do not explain discomfort by contrast.
I think it’s possible it feels like a jokey, distancing element. Affected and self-indulgently literary. I believe with discomfort: immediacy. That’s what’s wanted.
But let’s go nuts just in case.
Feel free to stop reading anywhere along the method listed below, since folks, here comes an I do not understand what kinda flight:
Pain tired into her skull with a yawn as she tried to remember what she ‘d done to deserve it. Something fun. Meanwhile she busied her little hands up and down his clothing in an automated magic trick that worked every time – however left him tingling and somewhat the worse for wear, wincing in compassion with her poor head, other than for him it was little shooting stars, shooting stimulating white heat, burning ache and sizzling flinch adding and down his inner aural network in waves like an incipient neurological condition. He disregarded it as they both said “YES” in a specific and rather forward manner. “DAMN!” she said as they each enthusiastically initiated and began. “OW!” he returned. “Are we sure this is the correct time? Do you think we’re coming down with the covid?” they both queried in synchrony – however what the hell, they were 2 too far into it already and somehow, it meant excessive. As they got to work and frothed it up to a ripping pitch, the discomfort resembled hectic gnomes industrially working them each in seams, seamily working nerves and veins for brilliant semi-precious discomfort like ore, in colors they ‘d never seen before, nor quickly to forget. He either was being ridden by a stallion of discomfort or he was one – his every lurching and haunching sinew whinnying and sobbing out “neigh!” She on the other hand had a pounding in her head like she couldn’t believe, balanced out by a similar one in other places which was more like a burro or burrito than a “stallion of pain” truthfully, however she felt sure she might break it and triumph – vwoop! Up and over she goes and on we go! Why were they both doing this? Plainly they were not well. It appeared as if some unmentioned accord of esteem had actually been struck and reached in between them, like this grinding and teeth-gritting-towards-excruciating-joy-&&- release ordeal was some important, whimsical and completely unjustified presentation of mental strength and psychological determination, atcha & & back atcha – and it was by no methods clear who was who. It implied they had what it requires to pull outrageous, showoff erotic stunts for no reason – well, that was something. The selections and panoplies of discomfort in between and through their joined kind( s) had reached the point where the discomfort was like a clown vehicle, disgorging its endless and increasingly unwelcome load of clowns cavorting in and all through the three-ring circus of their increasingly, unnecessarily acrobatic coupling. What was wrong with them !? They needed to be weak. It seemed like working towards working itself out well. The discomfort they progressively focused and shared was progressively like a child’s aching, loosening up tooth, remarkable and beguiling hurt you just want to poke with your intrepid tongue till