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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.
GG 2: A Glorious StuffingGrace sat on the couch in the living room reading a book, relaxing by letting herself drift off into her novel. Her bright purple eyes from her contacts flicked back and forth, absorbing each and every word and forming her own world from them. Months had passed since the incident with her sister Gloria that involved her being blackmailed to being her servant. She tried to put the even out of her mind since then though, and continued on with her usual everyday activities. She continued to read in the cozy and dim lit living room until her mother entered the room from hallway.
“Okay Gracie, the food should be about done and we have plenty more in the pantry if you need it.” Her mother said as she pulled her purse over shoulder. It was Friday night and Grace had invited a few friends over for a small get together to celebrate the end of their test week in school. Her parents also decided to have a night out and were going to be gone for quite a while.
Oh thanks mother, that
Reader x KnB: Holiday job Chapter 16
Author's note: My sommer holidays just started and I'm in this situation of being overtired, because I watch anime the whole night
f/n = first name
l/n = last name
e/c = eye color
h/c = hair color
f/c = favourite color
The next day
The life with my crutches is way easier now that have them for a while. Although the pain is not so strong every time I move. That’s why life is more comfortable for me and walking around is not such a big problem any more.
Walking out of my bathroom after doing my hair I slowly make my way over to my bed just when a knock on the door is heard and “I’m coming in.”
Dumbfounded by this sudden intruder I froze in place and watch the door gets opened. This day the one who brings me my breakfast is Akashi.
Stepping inside first he looks at the bed with an emotionless expression. Then he looks worried, because I’m not laying there and after that his features turn angry when he notices me standing on the other side of the room.
PVC Demons - Written InfoAPPEARANCE: Skin and body
Their skin color can be a bright color, but not to the point where its an eye-rape. ( so this means nothing raibow ). Mostly their skin consists of about 3 colors in which one is the main skintone, and the other two the markings.
Usually the main skin tone is a lighter one, while the markings are usually darker.
As for markings, they can vary from stripes, to blotches, to spots, and much more.
They always seem to be having FIVE finger-toes and normal human hands with five fingers, though they're adorned with sharp black claws.
PVC demons get their name for the black PVC clothing they always seem to wear.
Every PVC monster owns a mask, either it be normal or a gas-mask. But its not to hide a foul mouth or anything. They just have a normal mouth really, the only oddity in it being is that they have a black tongue and sharp teeth.
The mask and pants are both ALWAYS black, though it may have some bright colored extra's. ( in example, additiona
Sidathe Esphimel: Bio (Remake)
Name: Sidathe Esphimel
Hometown: Elmysia, the City of Riches
Weight: Hates to reveal
Eyes: Light Blue
Personality Traits: Spoiled, selfish, sarcastic, rude and immature. She is mean in the outside but inside, she has a soft side and is kindhearted and cares about others but always hides her sweet nature. She shows that she has a fondness of foxes and wants one of her own someday.
Likes: Treasure, money, being wealthy, foxes, having whatever she wants, eating course meals with no limit.
Dislikes: Poor quality products, being called "cute", not getting things her way, being poor, not eating enough food courses to satisfy her hunger.
Attributes: She is an expert katana user with excellent melee skills is sword fighting combat. She is atheletic and agile.
Weaknesses: Overconfidence gets the best of her,
Revenge-Behind the ScenesAdrian looked at the ground. "Well...you see...Jordan and I were very close..." he smiled slightly. "And...we found that we are alike." Adrian looked up at the brothers as his eyes flashed a familiar, haunting crimson.
"CUT!!!" Velvet yelled into her megaphone. Backstage workers came onto set and began to gather props and roll out the scenery.
"Jordan!?" Adrian exclaimed before kneeling down on the grave Jordan was buried under.
"Can someone get me out?" Jordan's muffled reply called, and two men began to dig away the dirt that was placed above him and his coffin.
Velvet got up from her seat and brought the megaphone to her mouth. "That's a wrap!" she called before heading towards the dressing rooms of the stars of Revenge. She had just finished her sequel to the famous story, and she had plans for a third.
The young fox hybrid fixed the beret on her head and knocked on Dan's door. There was then a series of self-praises and laughs from the
Testing Ch.3 (Revenge Back/Side Story)The next morning, Jordan awoke to voices outside of his room. He sat up and looked around, realizing he was still in Dan's lab. He figured Dan was discussing with his parents.
Quietly, Jordan got out of bed and approached the door before cracking it open. He peered outside, and he saw Dan standing before the door talking to Herobrine and Katharine. Jordan stayed quiet and remained hidden behind the door, listening in on their conversation.
"...I don't think punishment is helping his condition," Dan said, fixing his glasses. "Sheobadr seems to get energy from what he feels. If his emotions get too out of control, it could become dangerous."
Katharine glanced at Herobrine, who remained silent.
Dan looked down at the floor. "I still wish to experiment on him. He's not willing to go back as of now. Of course, you can always try to get him back, but I doubt there will be high success," he put in.
"We still want to talk to him." Herobrine replied.
"Very well," Dan said, stepping aside.
-JUEVES 3:00 AM-
-Agencia Secreta num.15-
Sonidos proviniendo de los computadores en esa gran sala, maquinas, armas, todo lo que un buen espía utiliza, sin olvidar los relojes para que vean la hora exacta. Varias personas trabajaban a pesar de que era muy temprano, una jovencita de aproximadamente unos 19 años iba directamente a la sala de prácticas, donde se encontró con una chica pelirroja que practicaba la puntería de sus armas, mirándola con asombro, ver como jalaba el gatillo y daba muy cerca del blanco exactamente, con el minúsculo sonido de su voz, volteo de inmediato mostrándola en la mira haciendo que esta diera un pequeño salto.
-¡BAJA TUS ARMAS FLYNN!- Dijo mientras se cubría la cara con sus manos.
-Ah, eres tú-
Comenzó a bajar sus armas, de eso soplo su flequillo haciendo que se levantara y quedara como normalmente lo tiene, guarda sus armas en su cinturón que estaba alrededor
Beryl's GlyphsBy: D. R. Nyan-chan
What are Glyphs?:
The type of glyphs Beryl uses are like circuits for magical energy. The design created via a magical medium (glyph sticks in Beryl's case) determines the effect and a small bit of compatible energy is all that's needed to serve as the trigger. Most glyphs are one-time use, but there are exceptions and variations to the trigger conditions such as a time delay or dead man's switch.
There are also glyphs that are aligned with a certain element and in order to work, they require at least a symbiotic association with said element. For example, a water user can activate a wind or ice elemental glyph, but not a fire or lightning type. Beryl doesn't have to worry about this due to her Chaos alignment being practically universal.
If some phenomenon is preventing magic from being used, glyphs can still be drawn, but will usually remain dormant. Likewise, glyphs that depend on internal power supplies lose their effec
Bucky X Reader: Facing My Demons (part 3)The drive was just as long as it had been before. Bucky stayed quiet in his seat, his eyes staring at the road ahead. The conversation was very limited so you started fiddling with the radio. You weren't one to listen to music during car rides since you thought it was distracting, but this time you wanted something to help loosen the quiet tension in the air. Bucky paid no mind to your constant dial twisting so you assumed he was okay with it.
You flipped through several stations, pop, country, rock, and even some good 80's music, but when you flipped past a classical station Bucky quickly asked you to turn it back on.
You did as he asked and listened as Frank Sinatra's voice filled the car as he sang 'Our Love'. Boy, how old was this station?! This was something your grandparents would've listened to. You almost wondered aloud but looked over and saw that Bucky was no longer sitting stiffly in his seat, looking ahead at the endless road. Instead he was leaning back, his shoulders ease
Our Name is Sirius"Our name is Sirius."
The words echoed in the empty room. The two young women had spoken at the same time, two voices perfectly in tune with each other. The women themselves were almost mirror images. Soft, white skin, white hair, milky white irises, lips a very pale pink; they had no real colour. They had the same face, the same build and the same white clothes. The only difference between them was that one had bangs and the other didn't.
They moved in perfect sunchronisation, like mirror images of each others. Their faces were blank, but vague interest showed in their eyes.
"What, both of you?"
"Are you twins?"
"The word does not cover the extent of our bond. But your language lacks a proper phrase, so we will accept the term."
"Alright, then. But what are you?"
They were silent, faces impassive but eyes sharp and piercing.
"That is not for you to know."
"That is not for you to know."
Their piercing eyes softened.
"You are frustrated. Do not be. We have no ill will
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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