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ShatteredShe remembers it now; there’s blood (oh yes she can remember the blood thick and red and sticky and dead) and pain (it’s what she is made of now what she will be) and the feeling of something inside her mind snapping like a guitar string (it’s a musical sound almost pretty she takes care of it and remembers the sound of unrepairable) shattering and bleeding and disappearing in tiny supernovas that leave behind a strange urge to smile and the icy knowledge that this is what she is; shattered.
She smiles into the darkness, eyes open but unable to see (they took care of that they did), arms wrapped around her torso and legs (at least the one she can move without pain she is pain why) pressed against her chest.
They turn on the light but it’s not them and she blinks as her eyes try to adjust to the brightness (it hurts so but she missed it why did she not remember) and they’re strangers (she doesn’t think she can trust them but her body is limp and her m
Love is CruelLove is cruel.
There is no doubt in my mind about this. Love is as cruel as it is kind.
It is the curve of her jaw and the silhouette of her face I study the most. she is lovely, free and happy as a bird and with the depth and beauty of a mountain lake 'neath a full moon. Sometimes the secretive veil of darkness pulls back and I am allowed to look at what resides deep down. I am captured; mesmerised by these brief glimpses of what makes her her.
I hang on to her words and her beautiful accent more than I let show. She is important to me; far more so than she knows. When she speaks I listen.
I love her. Fully and with all my heart, I love her. I do not know if she feels the way I do, but I pray she does. Love unreturned is a slow poison.
How BarrenHow barren, this land
Once home to thousands
How empty, these hands
Begging for food
How silent, the pantheon
Sworn to protect them
How unjust, the fate
Assigned to the poor
MonochromeA garden clad in darkness
With shadows all around
A beating heart of blackened stone
With veins of rubies crowned
A moving star crossing skies alone
The day is dead, the night has come
Vanilla swirls in bowls of blood
A taste of wild and tame
A figure in a darkened hood
Never quite the same
A howling moon so far away
The desert crawls with life today
Swimming in the river deep
An ancient beast is deep asleep
Buried treasure 'neath the tree
Not for mortal eyes to see
A pen on paper, scratching words
Monochrome, a page of blurs
Light in darkness, shining weak
Frightened children for it seek
Yet, once the fleeting light is found
Cold ashes resting on the ground
Sunrise over mountains high
A painter gives a grateful sigh
Quiet reigns where sound should be
A storm is raging silently
The scratching stops, the paper curls
A hand no longer with us furls
Whispers the WindWhispers the wind
In the hours of day
O'er the noise
Of life, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours of night
In the silence
Of dark, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours between
In changing light
And sound, as it rests
LightA being at the very edge of his vision was kneeling over the fallen human. It was weaving strands of glimmering light in a web over her chest, the thin threads passing through each other and sticking in seemingly random places as she worked. The fine weave pulsed gently as it hovered just above her chest save for where the being had delicately pressed one fingertip down to attach it to the dead woman. The being then wove the connected strands into each other, and soon one thin fiber of light was attached to each of the fingertips on her right hand. She raised her hand then, gathering the strands and gently pressing them to the palm of her hand before spreading her fingers out again, letting her hand hover in the air for a few moments. The body was lifted off the ground, only a few inches, as if the little light threads were puppet strings. The strands of light glowed brighter and the world seemed to hold its breath when she brought her hand down, fingers still spread and palm flat. The
Grey and silverIn a world of grey and silver
Colours muted by the fog
I stand silent in the snowscape
With a smile of grateful joy
I see the hidden beauty
In a bleak and quiet day
The lack of sound is calming
Wish it could stay this way
This landscape that I tell of
Is never far away
As fog and frost still rule the world
You'll see it too
I promise you
There Are SeashellsSoft sunlight
And the sound of waves
It’s a beautiful sight
So different from his
Final resting place
There are seashells here
Peacock BlueThe sky is blue. It’s a beautiful shade, the colour of peacock feathers. I stand on a green hill underneath a blue sky and smile at the warm, yellow sunlight.
A gentle breeze rustles in the leaves and tousles the long grass as I close my eyes. Soft footsteps sound behind me, slightly out of sync with the wind. That’s how I hear her.
She comes to stand beside me on the hill, and her top is a link between the sky and the grass, beautiful and green-blue. She smiles at me and I smile back.
“Thunderstorm’s coming,” she says. I nod.
We stand together and watch torn clouds the colour of bruised lead close over the peacock blue sky. Somewhere lightning flashes, the momentary flare of light illuminating her face and making her features stand out in sharp relief. I take her hand.
We will weather this storm together. Because behind wild clouds of bruised lead there is a sky the colour of peacock feathers and a warm, yellow sun.
~ Unique Human - Izaya Orihara x Reader ~
"Oh, [Name]-chaaan~" The raven-haired informant's voice rang throughout the large room. No answer. A small grin appeared on your face as you heard him get up from his chair and approach the sofa you were currently occupying. Stopping directly in front of you, a pair of crimson eyes bore down at you.
"Hello Izaya-kuuun~" You finally answered, mocking him in a sing-song voice.
"Where is it?"
"What on Earth could you be referring to, Izaya-kun?" You asked, trying to hide a smile from your boyfriend's obviously irritated state.
"My cell phone, [Name]-chan. Where did you put it this time?"
From the very first moment you met him, Izaya took every possible opportunity he had to annoy or tease you in one way or another.
After a month or so of his relentless tactics, you decided to start giving him a taste of his own medicine by getting a certain angry, street sign wielding ex-bartender to catch the informant off-guard.
Claiming you were an 'exceptionally interesting human', you slowly d
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 1Marisa hesitated, anxious suddenly, before opening the doors. She looked down at the keys in her hand, trying to get past this nervousness, playfully pinching the meat of her fat, flabby belly with the other. She shouldn't be so nervous, she knew this club perfectly, she'd worked here for a good six months, this should be easy.
Only, it wasn't, because what was behind that door was new. It was hers now, and she had plans.
For a second, she just stood there, nervous, but all of those concerns flew away only seconds after opening the door. She just looked, wide-eyed, and excited now. It was better than she'd imagined. Not finished yet, though, it just didn't seem quite done, she couldn't tell why. Eh, she'd figure it out later. She called back out the door, "Come on in here, Gwen, check it out!"
A few seconds later, Gwen came in, bigger than ever, looking positively massive as she playfully dragged the giggling mass of the helpless, struggling former manager of Porker's, Jo
Death Battle: Deadpool vs. RED Team pt. 2
Deadpool was standing around, playing a handheld game console, then looked up and noticed the camera was focused on him. "Oh!" he said in surprise, "We're back? Well, it's about freakin' time! I swear I beat this game a bajillion times by the time you got back to me!"
White: Technically, it was only six.
Yellow: Really? Seemed like a lot more. Guess time really DOES fly when you're having fun.
"So, to anyone who missed the first fight, here's how things are goin' so far..." Deadpool said, cueing a chart.
RED Team: 6 (Soldier, Scout, and Pyro are dead by now)
"Yeah, I killed the guy stupid enough to wear grenades on his bandolier, the loudmouthed kid, and the axe-crazy pyromaniac." Deadpool filled in, "So, c'mon! Bring it! I dare ya-"
Deadpool flew backward. The Demoman had regained consciousness after being clunked in the head by half a baseball and was now brandishing a grenade launcher with a giddy smile on his fac
Cheryl's Night ClubbingCheryl smiled when she accepted her third drink, a long island iced tea, her favorite, from a lusty young man passing her by, but winced when she sat back down, accutely aware of how close these shorts were coming to non-existance.
Her rump, overfed and under-worked, fattened up through a consistent theme of overindulgence and relaxation, was terrorizing the seams of these soft, fabric boyshort panties she let masquerade as club attire. She could feel her overfed stomach, fat and well-tended, pressing in front of her, sagging down just a bit more than she was okay with.
She clutched the drink to her chest tightly, pressing it between the plump, generous globes of her chest, resting the bottom of the glass on the convenient swell of her soft stomach, shivering a bit as the cold, icy glass came in contact with the exposed area of her cleavage. She set her back against the wall behind the bench, sliding down, slowly, praying the stitches would stay together, until she felt her cheeks maki
Death Battle: Deadpool vs. RED Team pt. 1
Ray: Alright, the combatants are set. Let’s settle this debate once and for all…
Steel: It’s time for a DEATH BATTLE!!!
All was quiet in the RED fortress, its nine resident mercenaries just settling down from yet another conflict with the BLU Team.
But none of them could have been prepared for what was about to happen next…
Intruder alert! An unknown entity has entered the base!
The administrator’s voice rang throughout the entire RED headquarters, earning the attention of every member.
“An unknown enemy is in the base?!” exclaimed a man in a heavy, red coat and an army helmet on his head.
Faster than he usually did before, the Soldier raced to his armory and grabbed his usual weapons: shotgun, rocket launcher, and shovel in that order. As he marched down the stairs, the administrator spoke again.
Protect the base!
Good Ol' Days - TGThings were getting rather tough for Nick Kellins. At the ripe old age of 49, the big fifty was looming over his head. A bad construction injury left him rather immobile and confined to a wheelchair. His four kids had all but abandoned him due to the constant attention he needed; at least that’s what he told himself to ease the pain. Nick’s once thick blonde hair had faded to a dull gray, mostly from stress and the meds he was taking to help with said stress.
He let out a cough as he wheeled himself over to the dining room table which had the mornings newspaper sprawled over it. The old college he had attended was celebrating their recent football championship win and was headlining the news.
“What I wouldn’t do to go back in time and do it all over again…” he sighed while reading over the article.
Nick kept reading while sipping at his mug of fresh brewed coffee. The more he read into the article the more he wished he could be there-- as one of the
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 4And so the girls went, in a slightly different order than they were announced.
Lexi went first, her routine little changed from her older one, Aerosmith blaring, her fat, fleshy body writhing, flab jiggling in time to the sounds of guitar, more gymnastically at the beginning of her set, less so as the songs played on. It was getting difficult by the end, and the reason was clear, it was because of those little pauses she'd take every few seconds, grabbing food from the conveyor belt, working it into her act as smoothly as she could, eating more and more, and letting her fullness be seen by everyone, her belly proudly bulging forward, her hands rubbing across it, massaging it, looking for relief, and finding a bit as she made herself belch, audible even over Steven Tyler's wailing. There was no pause in the act there, she reached immediately to the conveyor belt, looking to fill what space the air had just vacated, cramming a cookie into the space between her breasts, leaning her head c
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 2The girls spent an extra forty minutes in The Cheesecake Factory before they were recovered enough to get back to Marisa's car, both of them groaning in unison as they collapsed backwards into Marisa's Mini Cooper, their combined weight lowering the car dramatically.
They spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling around, trying to find some measure of comfort in the hopelessly cramped space, and failing miserably. Marisa was fine, the car had been altered to fit her, but Gwen was struggling, her thunderous thighs spreading wide under the pressure of her almost perfectly spherical stomach and proud, heavy bosom, too wide for the passenger's seat. She didn't seem able to accept this fact, though, trying everything she could to get the door closed, with all of her massive, fleshy rump contained within the car, repeatedly trying to pull it closed, until Marisa spoke up, “Hey... Gwen? Yeaaaaaaah, maybe you should just get in the back seat?”
Gwen tried a few more times, wincing i
Caliban's DreamThe music flows through the air, curling and twisting like invisible smoke. I inhale it and feel it settle in my chest as the drums play joyfully with the rythm of my heart and the music. A voice breaks through, whispering and caressing as the colorful invisible smoke spreads in my blood, filling my body with pulsing life. I hum with the music, my whole body lost in the swirling tones that flow and curl and hum all around and in me. It is almost painful, the power of a simple song. I thrum and pulse with the music as it stretches into eternity, an infinite amount of time squeezed into a few short minutes. I rejoice in the feeling of life. I know the song is over soon, and when it ends, the hard, cold real world will come back. I close my eyes and cling to the colorful humming life in and around me, desperately holding on to another world, one made of music and color, where dreams are true and imagination is the master.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More