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Human“I am human.”
It was her mantra, three words repeated over and over. She mumbled it in time with the steady chink of the spoon. She finished stirring her tea and tapped it deftly on the rim of her cup to dislodge the drops that clung to it. I. Tap. Am. Tap. Human. Tap.
She set the spoon down with a sigh and wandered over to her age-weary armchair. It was musty and the cushions sank when she sat on them, trapping her in a collapse of old leather, but it made her feel safe and that was all that mattered. She snuggled into it gratefully and raised the cup to her lips. Scalding tea burnt her lips and tongue, forcing her to spit it back into the cup with a splutter. She always did that.
She sat there, scaping her burnt tongue over her front teeth, for a long while, eyes unfocused on the wall across from her and the heat of her tea seeping through the cloth of her shorts and into her thighs. Her fingernails tapped a rhythm of one, two, three on the side of the cup, sending
The Human MasqueradeI live a human masquerade
Where my smiles are torn between real and fake
My face is but a ripple
Pertaining to the storm beneath
Of raging emotion
Confusion, exasperation, helplessness
Dreams at my fingertips but just out of reach
People around me who my eyes trail
But my lips can only mouth silent words
I can never come to speak to them
I want to be seen but the attention crushes me
A dead weight on the shoulders of the broken
I reach out, I truly do
I want to touch you but the distance is always that touch to far
So I watch you pass me
Sometimes you see and other times you don’t
But my heart leaps at your merest glance
And your spoken word to me is an honour no matter how rare
Yet I am left to ponder
To fret incessantly
Double guess, doubt, worry
Did I say wrong?
So I bluff and play a game with myself
I am brilliant in my head
Standing tall among the turmoil
While the bells of despair clash in my ears
It feels as though there is me
And then th
GriefGrief is cold skin under the throat
Where unhindered tears have taken dampened refuge
After trekking down the curves of a distorted face
Where that once pleasant breeze has cooled them
Grief is the stinging of the eyes
After furious fists have scrubbed lashes away
And the salt of tears has seeped in
The skin flairs red
Grief is the silent choking
Breath caught and tied
What once was
And now never is
Know they died not alone
I Live HereLynette Stone pushed the peeling double front door open apprehensively. They creaked as they swung inwards and, surprisingly, there was little resistance, almost as though they were opened regularly. The horn of the taxi honked behind them and Lynette turned around in time to see its retreating red taillights as her aunt drove off.
Her aunt was very busy you see. She was a very successful business woman and in her line of work, there wasn’t time for children, even if they were your orphaned niece and nephews. So she had left them at this old house she had somehow inherited off her ex-husband’s family and trusted they could fend for themselves. She had promised to deliver groceries and a small allowance every three or so days and said she would check up on them regularly. She told them that if they needed anything, they had but to ask the couple who tended the garden. Lynette, however, was sceptical that anyone did any gardening at the house.
She pushed the doors open fully
That Was The Day He DiedThat was the day he died.
You can trace it back to the very hour, counting down to the very minute and caught forever in that final second. It was no sooner than it was, nor was it any later.
One could almost say it was the most precise point in his whole existence. For dying only takes a second. One second is also how long it takes to snuff out a candle. Pinch the flame between dampened fingers and all the warmth and light is gone.
Everything else takes time. His whole life took time. Actions dawdle over the seconds and drag into the minutes. Waiting stretches into hours and expands into days. Living lasts for years. Nothing was so instant and as well defined as his death.
That was the day he died.
Selkies BloodSilent treaties signed in tears
Helpless men tied down by years
Will we ever return the selkie's blood?
There are things that should never have been
Secrets no one should have seen
Blistered lips that spoke those very words
Love songs drowned in maiden's ears
Farewells bid in ruckus cheers
Calling men that never will return
And sailors souls all lost at sea
Weeping selkies forever will be
Albatross blood taints their very hearts
And with their blood do oceans flow
Wayward souls that shan't let go
Will we ever return the selkie's blood?
Do You See?Do you see her languid brown eyes,
In a face full of angles,
With hair like the shawl of a heartbroken widow?
Her fingers so delicate,
They could play spider web harps
And lips like cherry blossoms in bloom
Lashes so long, like soot laden wings
Brush cheeks of satin dun
And draw closed heavy lids over world weary eyes
Watch as she turns her face away
As a cascade of silken black obscures your view
And see as she walks away
What If She's Lying?Hey, do you see that girl?
The one over there, at the front of the class. The one in the corner with her head down and her hair hiding her eyes.
Oh, her? Yeah I see her. So what?
What do you know about her?
I know her name.
She is in the same class as me?
Is that it?
That girl has been in the same classes as you since you started high school. in every class she sits at the front. In very few classes does anyone ever sit with her. She doesn't have friends here. Not real ones anyway.
How is that my fault?
Oh, it isn't. I just thought someone might have noticed is all.
What are you trying to do, make me pity her? Tell me a sop story about how alone and depressed she is so I feel sorry for her?
But she isn't depressed. What about her makes her seem depressed?
Well for a start, she
Count Bercleah Alden (Halloween Special)“Halloween! Halloween!” sung Bercleah Alden happily, somehow managing to twirl his bulky body across his kitchen floor like a professional dancer, “Ghouls, ghosts, lollies and treats! Frightened children, happy children, children knocking at the door! Ha-llo-we-en!”
Now I must tell you, Count Bercleah Alden is a vampire. He comes from a long line of pure-blood vampires. There is none of that tainted, half-human blood in his veins and the rest of his family take great pride in that fact. Bercleah on the other hand…well that’s another story entirely.
Bercleah is well built, to put it politely, with an unkempt tangle of black curls for hair and bright, if somewhat pudgy, grey eyes. His chin is covered with a short black beard but no moustache – that would be just too much even for him. He has short legs which only add to his appearance of round plumpness. Don’t get me wrong though, Bercleah isn’t ugly – not at all. Granted he is
Sober!Gamzee X AnyGender!Troll!ReaderYou didn’t suspect it. He didn’t ask for it, so you never knew. Now you were terrified, your mind screaming at you. You can hear the honks, loud, then soft. Your bloodpumper jumped at every honk you heard. “(Name)!” He yelled. His voice was dry, and cracked, but very high and giggly, like a child’s. You cut down an alleyway, throwing yourself at the fence and scrambling up the damned thing, losing your shoes and your weapon, which was a fold up axe umbrella. You swear, and then land heavily on the other side of the fence, your ankles screaming with protest. “We’re not playin’ motherfucking hide and seek, [Name]!” He yelled. He’s close; you can hear his juggling clubs scrape against the ground and his steps. You dive into the nearest trash deposit, landing on something squishy. Whatever it was, the liquid drips on your arm and seeps into your clothing. You almost scream with disgust. But a sudden honk makes you jump and burrow
University time: cap 14University time: cap 14
Cuando termino de decirme todo lo que sentía por mi, solo pude mirarsu rostro, y lo único que pude ver sus ojos color camersi, cosa que nunca me había dado cuenta de ello, ’’son hermosos’’ pensé en ese momento, mi corazón latia tan rápido que incluso me falto la respiración por un momento, hay momentos en que sientes que el mundo a tu alrededor va en cámara lenta, y sientes tu corazón con un palpitar poco común, y encuentras otro corazón que va a la misma frecuencia. Después de todo aquello que paso en menos de una respiración, solo pude responderle:
Fionna: ma... marshall... yo.. yo.. tambien te amo
Marshall me miro a los ojos de manera muy ilusionada, intento besarme, le esquibe, muchos se preguntaran ‘’¿Por qué?’’ lo hice solo porque de momento pensé lo que finn diría
Pelea 2-WAAAAAAA- Estados Unidos grito enojado,y poco le faltaba para darle a Colombia en la cara con un portafolio que lanzo al aire,pero que para la mala suerte del rubio se estrello en la puerta.-¿A-America?- pregunto alguien en voz baja.Estados Unidos volteo y miro a Canadá que de inmediato se arrepintió de haber tratado de hablar con su hermano,debido a que este lo miraba con una cara aun más terrorífica que la de las películas de miedo bien echas.
Y de repente,en la cara de Estados Unidos apareció un pequeño puchero,que termino en llanto -waaa,Canada- sollozo el americano en el hombro del país más alto.Aprovechando el momento de abrazo grupal,Francia se acerco y abrazo a ambos rubios -oh Canadá,que suave eres- comento Francia -HEY! you bloody frog,STOP TOUCHING MY SONS!- grito Inglaterra en el momento. -Esta bien- respondió Francia sonriendo,y tomando a Canadá de la cintura,alejándol
the boy watched as Amber’s body fell.
Figure out which one fits
the boy; after a few hours; came back to the battle site.
He looked around and saw the thousands of bodies of his fellow soldiers. He looked at the body of the Zoroark that he killed. He looked, and found the small dust piles of the Zorua that died. He was thankful that there was no wind today. He started gathering up the dust piles. After he got one pile picked up, and he we placed it near Amber’s body and went to the other pile. He picked up that one and did the same.
“I'm sorry…” he said lowly. His voice cracked as he talked. He took off his helmet to show (describe derrick). His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. He sat on his feet and watched the Zoroark and her two dust piles for children. He imagined that the dust piles would swirl around and reform the small Zorua and the Zoroark would stand up and hug her children. He blinked but the body was still a body and the dust was
living radiation,Chemical haste part 1 I woke next morning,raring to go,everyone was still asleep when I was getting ready to go,at least I thought I was,Kyra was watching me eat breakfast,it was easy to see the kitchen from the living room.I started to pack up but she stayed silent,waiting for something,when I was about to leave,she stopped me.She asked me the obvious question "Where are you going?"
I told her"To find Shun's digiegg and get Lunio back"
she sighed and tried to get me back to bed but a lot of tries later,she got extremely mad and chained me against the wall,so I couldn't leave and get hurt.
I kept asking her why she wouldn't let me go,she kept saying I wasn't strong enough.This lasted throughout the entire night,we fell asleep because we were exhausted.Obsidian was the first to wake,she left her room and saw me,then she saw Kyra,she cawed in anger and tried attacking Kyra.If Lufreso acted a moment later,Kyra probably wouldn't be here,he grabbed Obsidian and knocked her unconscious.Comically,Kyra
Her head lay on Junhong's chest as he runs his fingers through her hair. He had been thinking about three words quite often lately. He was nervous.
The dreary day outside of the window didn't help him feel better about what he was about to say-and the rain that was starting to fall on the window with the pitter-patter didn't help either. Junhong could feel his face starting to flush as he took a breath in and opened his mouth to say those three words, but nothing came out. He tried again and again, but his nerves were getting the best of him.
She lifted herself off of his chest to reach for her cup of tea. She brought the mug to her lips and carefully sipped the warm liquid as she looked at him. She swallowed with a smile and set the mug down only to retreat to the same position before.
Junhong's fingers tangled themselves into her hair while the others braided themselves with her fingers. He shut his eyes tightly while took another slow, deep breath.
"Hey, jagiya..." he whispered in a
DisintegrateShe had to be careful now, careful in a way she'd never been before. She knew how to step lightly in every situation, she knew how to be careful to avoid the third floorboard from the left of the kitchen table, the one that would creak and let her father know she was home. She knew how to be careful walking home at night after another late shift, knew which alley she could use and which drunks to avoid. She even knew how to be careful with boyfriends that thought fists where for putting her in her place. But this was different. She'd never had to be careful with herself before, never had to worry about where her hands were, never had to be careful not to touch anything too long or too hard. She'd never been afraid before.
Well that wasn't strictly true, she'd been afraid of turning into her mother, scared that she'd find herself drowning the pain away and lose herself in the memories of the times when they were happy, when they were a family. She'd been scared of turning into her fathe
CrystalBio: Crystal Modgnik
Nickname: The Long Lost Marian Sister, The Final Guardian of the World, The Traveling Dreamer, The Girlfriend to Rozettabel, and The Savior of Dreams
Personality: She's very heroic as she will never give up on what is right and will do what it takes to defeat her opponents in battle. She's a dreamer and tends to dream even when she's awake. But those dreams help her in ways of knowing what happens next or where should they go next. She loves to play sports, play party games, going on adventures, and loves racing in cars even upgrading cars to make them even faster. She always likes having friends around her probably because she never had friends when she was a child or when she grew up. She's very smart when it comes to dire situations and at times. But whenever she grows in her giant form she can be flirty, seductive, and even teasing. She loves to show off anyway she can. But she will only do it when it feels like it. Besides that she has a personality of
MANED WOLF DESIGN CONTEST! (Prizes Added!)So, I've decided that I'm just going to hold a design content! I've got a few entries already ( and honestly they're all so great that i just can't pick between them x.x) This is for a male Maned wolf! Natural colors but interesting designs! Like this guy www.furaffinity.net/view/12181245/ see how many colors and patterns he has? Gorgeous! Don't copy him but use him for inspiration!
Oh, y'all wanna know guidelines and prizes huh?
Guidelines: interesting natural colored maned wolf. Male. You can use a lineart but i want proper credit given!
Where to submit: right here is fine but please provide a link! I don't wanna go losing your entry! You can also email them to firstname.lastname@example.org
Deadline? Next Tuesday unless someone ABSOLUTELY needs more time.
PRIZES! first place: I will use the character you design (i hold the right to change whatever i want about it)
You will win a fully finished drawing with up to two characters. You will also win a headshot badge of any character
Vanguard, Chapter 1: DuncanDuncan's Journal: Day 1288
I consider myself a good man. I respect women, elders, my equals, and the dead. I say a morning prayer, and an evening one. Hell, I even thank the gods for a meal, instead of immediately chowing down in the voracious manner as the other soldiers here do. By all logical means, I should be in paradise. No really, not just because I'm a good man, but also because I should be dead by now. So I ask myself: why, oh gods up there, have I ended up in hell?
1288 days. 1288 days of my life have been spent in this misery, and I'm beginning to lose faith in the glory I was promised. Some of the rookies still live in their ignorant bliss, but I've lived long enough to realize that there's not much glory to find here. “Sing the songs of glory and march into battle—-join The Crusade today!”. Such were the words of the posters The Crusade has spread all over The Mortal Realm. Gullible fools practically stand in line for these songs of glory that th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More