ovaries: rebel 'you're strong, sweetie.' you'd calmly say. i loved walking hand-in-hand with you; adoring your botched 'pixie' babingtonite haircut & bewitching vivianite eyes, as that mischievous grin arose upon your tanzanite painted lips. 'i love you like a sister', but during the smoldering days of summer the delightful taste of your refreshing kiss always quenched my thirst. we imitated the 'old school' zines by writing shit about wife-beaters, pedobears, & racist-trump-like-minded fucks in bold letters on hot pink pieces of paper, before passing them out to the 'white-conformist-bullshiters' outside of the whole foods, like innocent girl scouts selling thin mints. you were a kathleen hanna, a marina abramović, & a joan of arc in a bundle. a fearless artemis in the flesh; my twenty-first century 'riot grrrl'. 'you're strong, sweetie'... but why do i feel so fucking weak when you're not here?ovaries: rebel 1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Storyline setStoryStoryline set4 days ago in Introductions & Chapters
In outer space, at the death egg, sonic was fighting one of eggman's creations metal sonic, both metal and sonic were neck to neck equal in speed until tails gave sonic a power ring to boost his speed enabling to do a powerful spin dash, metal sensing this does the same and dashes at sonic both collided with each other until sonic broke through metal leaving a gap in the machine destroying metal. Eggman angry resorts to his giant eggbot mach 1he launches one claw at sonic but dodges the arm and spins ball at one arm creating some damage. Eggman retorts back by throwing another arm missing sonic as he spin dash at the ribcage of the mach increasing the damage times 2, angered that he's unable to hit sonic he charges up a chest beam fired at sonic, sonic knowing that attack will sting he used the seven chaos emeralds to call on super sonic and super dashed through the beam into the machine leaving a hole, eggman stunned ejects before it can explodes, after defeating eggman sonic re
El soberbioRico entre pobres, los muertos me piden pan duro. Mi fortuna me permite tener esclavos a los que no pago, soy rico. El poder heredado me deja comer sin trabajar. La vida es mía, está comprada. Los problemas son ajenos a mí, estoy por encima de todo: el hambre es un ruido molesto, igual que el de las moscas, si no fuera porque me mancharía los aplastaría a todos con mis manos. Soy rico y mi fortuna es mía, tengo tantas riquezas que podría vivir mi vida cinco veces sin depender de nada. La gente es despreciable, pidiéndome dinero ¡Qué se lo ganen! Igual que mi abuelo, un hombre honrado pero infeliz, trabajó demasiado y murió. Menos mal que yo puedo vivir de sus frutos. Malditos pobres.El soberbio3 days ago in Short Stories
Requiem of ChangeI sing a requiem of life, honouring the many versions of a being that have been made and remade in the fires of transfiguration. The flames envelop the skin and crackle light across the psyche in waves of dancing sparkles. Charcoaled husks disintegrate as explosions rip through the centre, opening chasms and leaving cosmic dust. It is a violent and magnificent display and it reinvents all who witness its glory. No sugar-coated well wish or sombre inflection can ease the transition into reinvigorated star seedlings, ready for transplantation. No caress, embrace or encounter can halt the shearing of the soul as it bursts through its broken cocoon and reveals the brilliance of its new self. Each palpitation pounds the spirit faster and stronger as they build towards this transformational enlightenment and these throbbing warnings ache. Even the caterpillar cannot foresee the process of liquefaction and reconstitution that is required for its own evolution.Requiem of Change3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I sing this requiem, feeling the
The Impossible ChoiceBREMERTON WASHINGTON MAY 20 1993The Impossible Choice1 day ago in Short Stories
It was as though the weather itself had turned sorrowful, as though it knew what this day would hold. At the far end of the harbor, isolated from the countless destroyers and submarines laid up, a big battleship sat at her moorings. She was docked between two of her siblings both older than her. Missouri could see Iowa to her left, fast asleep. New Jersey was to her right, head swiveled about to watch their eldest sibling closely. When Iowa had come in here two years earlier, the wound on her turret had not been repaired. New Jersey had done her best to use what herbs she could but the wound stubbornly refused to heal. So the fleet's healer had taken up constant vigilance on it for any sign of infection. In this wet climate, gangrene was a real concern.
Missouri sighed, turning to her sister. "You know you should get some rest sometime right?" She asked. "Spare me Missouri." New Jersey snorted. Missouri sighed. "I'm awake now, I can watch Iowa." She sai
Fields of GrayFields of GrayFields of Gray1 day ago in Short Stories
“You can't tell me that you believe in a world that is black and white—where there is no dispute between action and consequence. You can't tell me that we reside within a utopia, for this place is imperfection incarnate.” Lee Stern held his dark-stained pipe in a hand plagued ever so slightly by a minor case of tremors. Thick and rich smoke rolled from its open mouth like a dragon's nostril. The tendrils reached high into the gloom before disappearing against a black ceiling.
A small, haggard fan droned in exhaustion on a broad oak desk behind Stern that was cluttered mercilessly with papers and texts. Two mugs of coffee rested upon a quaint Brazilian table. Stern eyed his cup, listened to the calming hum of the fan, and then smiled at the man sitting across the table from him. He knew Richard Pinske quite well, and as Pinske's challenging gaze ran a swift course across the beautiful lacquered tab
Death and Life are my neighboursWhen death asks for sugar that's all he wants, but when life knocks at your door asking for sugar, that's when you should be concerned.Death and Life are my neighbours5 days ago in Short Stories
Short Stories # 2The moment that the blue hue of the sky flies into view it disappears once more and proceeds to do this motion for a minutes. I love to swing. It gives you a look at all the beauty of the world in about five seconds. When you go up you can see the trees, the sun. and the sky. When you go down you can see the grass, and your friends. I personally like to swing when I am alone. It lets me sit and think. The trees Are there to greet me every time I go up, and when I come down The groung awaits my quick visit. My music fills my ears. This is home. It's safe right in this spot. I always hate to leave, but I have to. My really home is waiting for me. Today though, I don't have to go home for a while. So I practice my tricks. I can flip around the seat in mid air, or lean forward so far that i almost fall off. It's the other side of swinging. Although I do love the peaceful part I also like the thrill of Almost falling off. Or climbing up the side of it and sitting on top. It's so fun! I coulShort Stories # 22 days ago in Short Stories
I Will Be Free - Grammatically Revised EditionOriginal text by CupofCharlie.I Will Be Free - Grammatically Revised Edition6 days ago in Short Stories
Grammatically revised text and notes by AlbinoFluttershy.
Original Text, written July 11th, 2013
‘Magnificent skyline, out of my reach but always in my eye line now’
I am a balloon. My insides are filled to the brim with helium. A piece of pink ribbon has been tightly bound around my base. The pink material compliments my purple skin nicely. A young girl is holding the end of the beautiful ribbon, staring at me in delight. Thrilled to have her very own balloon in her favourite colour. But I long to be free. I do not wish to be somebody’
Plight of the DemonsIn the darkness, a stone was struck against another, birthing a brief spark that illuminated for but a second before dying. The stones were struck again, and this time the sparks fell upon a pile of strange, black rocks that caught the flame and made it grow. As the fire burned brighter, the clawed hands of the hooded figure who’d struck the spark were revealed.Plight of the Demons5 days ago in Short Stories
A small, gangly creature, with red skin and a coat of scraggly gray fur, scurried over the ridged rocks and boulders outside the cave mouth, gesturing for others to follow it into the cavern. In its small, clawed hands it clutched something.
Inside the dark cave, the small creature and others like it scuttled in the wake of larger figures, all cloaked and hooded, none daring to speak. The figures all sat around the glowing fire, their beastly, twisted, and horned faces illuminated by its flickering brightness. Before the fire stood another, his face hidden by his tattered, worn hood.
“Gather, Children of the Brood.&
The Sun Rises On HellWill there ever be a day when God graces his fallen creations, the 'Deviations' our ancestors had cast down to dark depths so many centuries ago? Spilling bright crimson to be witnessed among other colors, it seemed to be our goal this whole time. To strike fear in the hearts of the wicked in place of our One True God, to rectify the world and keep hold of the original image we so vaguely remember. That precious Garden of Eden that is left with the nostalgic sense of melancholy. However, none have entertained the thought that possibly Hell is not a prison made in His image. That this twisted realm of tainted purity and torn spirits has a veil of locked away truth, secrets that the weak minds of mankind can't possibly face. In fear of everything they've worked so hard to keep away, coming back to haunt them for eternity.The Sun Rises On Hell20 hours ago in Short Stories
The Lord is meant to be an entity of light, I can only assume that he could never dream of harming his own children, his own creations. Only meaning to teach us what we
Mother Earth Our world, our future. We took it, we took all, thinking we were joining the right path. Truth hit us sooner than expected, bringing us to the ground. Far away from the realm of dreams, far away from our hopes.Mother Earth 3 days ago in Short Stories
We are down on the ground, back to this earth that was our home. Back to our home.
We were lost here, without knowing what our future held for us. Up there, we had our dreams, our future.
We found something else. On the ground, we found each other. Our dreams and our hopes, joined together to form a new future. We feed upon the water of the earth, bathed on the sunlight of the stars. We built our future together, building our new home here.
Gravity brought us down, to this earth that was our home. Our wings, taken away from us. Ripped from our white backs, bringing us down. Bringing us down.
But there’s no other place for us. Heaven , Earth, Home.
We built our future here, coming down on the ground together. We got hopes and dreams, our future holding between our grasps.
A Life: Part 3He drifted in dreams. He was wading through a red substance, it could have been anything, but he would have liked it if it were blood, it adds to the...effect.A Life: Part 35 days ago in Short Stories
He was walking around the pool, and there were people, fighting. The pool had the shape of a pear, at the stem were the stairs, two them in shallow water, the other three immersed. At the side was the ladder made out of a reflective metal. Even sitting from the stem he could admire his own reflection in the ladder's metal.
Everyone was fighting and he just wanted to kill. Why stop at bickering? Why not just kill? He got up and pushed the first one off the hinge of the pool near the stairs. The water broke the fall a bit but his face hit the first step in full force. He knew with what force the face hit the step, because he became the person falling.
He walked over to the ladder and grabbed the first person and bashed his head incessantly, until the floor was soaked with blood, he dumped the body in the pool.
A girl tackled him a
Past Tense ChryoOver time my mind has faded into nothingness, and my cries have turned to whimpers. If only the last of my words are heard, I will be joyous. Maybe someone somewhere will find me. Until then I will wait in this hole with only myself to cater. I can't see your face unless you uncover me, so I won't imagine a savior, or get my hopes up. Because looking for a god won't be the answer this time, it will only lead to chaos when the time does come. I need anyone to save me. Let me live again.Past Tense Chryo1 week ago in Short Stories
Your lips were marvelous, your eyes like emeralds, your hair that of bronze. Your scent was made of sugar, and your laugh gave everyone pleasure. You catered to all, and held so strong. You always thought of the person in front of you over yourself, and never asked for help, never but a yelp. This skin you held so rough, and mind full of wonder, waiting for god to fall upon us. You never wanted anyone to save you. You were alive.
By the Swan's GraceEarly Winter, Year 763 of the New AgeBy the Swan's Grace6 days ago in Short Stories
Glenmore, the Royal Glade
Featuring: Princess Glenda
Mentions: Fetus Pron Narcissa, Princess Antigone, and Lord Magnus
Glenda settled into a nest of pelts as the sun glinted off of her curls. She never cared for furs unless she was pregnant, for they kept her warm and cushioned her joints considerably. Only fox pelts and the occasional rabbit pelts would do.
Pregnant. Again. Fat and roly-poly with fawn. She made a devastated face at the mere thought of what she looked like when she walked. Her perfect figure, gone down the river. Again.
She wasn’t nearly as surprised as she had been by Magnus. Her youngest son was a shock (pleasant, but quite sobering), to say the least. The dunalino felt only a mild surprise, knitting her brows and deciding and telling Cinder straight away.
Her disinterest concerned her a little. S
Wroodle 68What is temptation? She is a whispered breath in your ear that reminds you, "I'm still here." She is a warm snake that coils around you in the most soothing manner before she bites you. She is the woman bathing on the rooftop that you just have to have. However you describe her, she will destroy you in the end.Wroodle 681 week ago in Short Stories
Flow of HappinessI tried to escape depression. Despair came. My hope died. My heart broke. My faith vanished into thin air.Flow of Happiness4 days ago in Short Stories
I experienced how it is to be loved, but it was not enough because it feels there’s too much familiarity that it’s like a routine. It feels like we are too used of each other that it doesn’t feel like we are a couple anymore. I was hoping for something better. I was hoping that things will get right again but nothing happened. It was too disappointing that it seemed logical to give up. I fought this dark, weakening depression that left a scar which can never be healed and left a damage that can never be fixed.
A voice asked, “Who are you?”
“I am an architecture student.”
The voice replied, “I didn’t ask what your present occupation is. I asked who you are.”
“I am a female artist.”
The voice answered, “I’m not asking about your hobby. I am asking, ‘Who are you’.”
“I am going
PlansAt graduation, he had his life all planned out. Years of hard work were going to finally pay off. He had inspired those around him with his determination. Nothing was going to stop him from achieving his goals.Plans20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Two years later, with all of his old dreams long since crushed, he questioned if any of his plans had even been worth the effort, or if they were just the pretentious fantasies of the idealistic fool he once was.
Last DateLAST DATELast Date3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
I will only say that she was not all that pretty. Not in the traditional way, not in a new way, not in a cutting edge way, not in a dirty way, no not in any way imaginable. I shouldn't expect more. I know that in time I would have become more realistic when it came to expectations but under the circumstances I hope I can be granted some leeway.
“Young man,” she asked after I was shot “Are you read for eternity?”
“Suppose so.” I replied as I took her hand.
At least I got my friends (Songfic)A/N: Okay, this is my first songfic and I made it for some of my characters.At least I got my friends (Songfic)5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
All these characters really existed, I just made up their personalities and stories!
I used the song "Friends" by Aura Dione, because it's one of my favourite and I couldn't imagine a more befitting song.
Benedict of Mera (a.k.a. pope Benedict IX.),
Anastasija Romanovna Zachar'ina Jurev'ina,
Madelaine Bonaparte (actually Marie Letizia Joséphine Annonciade Murat),
Empress Xin Jing X., actually Ch'eng Su Lin (a.k.a. Lady Ch'eng)
Miyamoto Musashi (a.k.a. Bennosuke, Niten, etc.)
At least I got my friends
Free, free to be myself
Free to need some time
Free to need some help~
Madelaine sat alone in her room, playing on her violin. She always played when she was sad and that was rather often. But this time, even the sound of her instruments couldn't brighten up her mood. One of her cousins had been bullying her again and while Madelaine was a bloodbender, her grandfath
Fact #1If I had a dollar for every girl who got me unattractive they would eventually find me attractive.Fact #12 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
VellumMy feet touch cool tile as I step into the bathroom, aligning myself before the mirror. I grasp the pencil next to the sink and hesitate to move it more than this, but there's a push that forces it to my face. My skin, like a fresh sheet of paper, is purely blank, if slightly wrinkled. The finely sharpened tip of the pencil seems to push itself against the surface of my skin, etching a mark and blossoming with colour around the tip. It burns with white hot intensity at the point of the pencil, as if it were on fire.Vellum4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
My hand is drawn slowly around the forming contour of my mouth, much to my internal protest, in a slight smile. The temptation and a gentle attempt to move my hand from its seemingly forced path is met with a renewed bloom of pain, and it seems that I must not show how I wish to be seen. I'm made by this unseen force to finish the trace of a smile around my mouth, the burning cut caused by this infernal implement subsiding only for a moment.
It's drawn up to my eyes,
Of Stone and Order~Of Stone & OrderOf Stone and Order4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
The Titans were defeated, those old rulers of the Earth. A moment for respite for the Olympians, after a long and arduous War, had at long last arrived.
In solitude Hephaestus toiled down in his forge, yet most frustrated now he was. Fresh ore he would smelt and every bit turned liquid, but to freeze it solid he could not. No wind of the Northern lands could cool this fluid and no frigid splash of the ghastly Acheron’s waters would quench it.
In despair Hephaestus seeks the wisest, though none other than him is there, to so finely wield this craft. Athena he calls forth and at once she rushes to the fellow Olympian’s aid.
‘Behold Athena!’ unto her cries the smith god, ‘Behold the ruin of my craft! The mighty blaze of the Plutonian depths melts all, turning stone to blazing rivers! Alas, the melt never turns to stone again! Inspect this infernal pond, I beg of you. Cast your insight, lest the world be molten whole!’
She spoke not, bu
The Nightingale and The LarkShe rested in tranquil silence, the night cloaking her and hiding the fragile form away from the curious dangers in the dark. He watches over the delicate creature in hopes of keeping her hidden away from the lifeless eyes of the moon's kingdom. Where the kings & queens of the Nocturnal would dance along the horizon, casting their intoxicating shadows across the fields of the world. Only the diamonds that seemed to appear in the midnight blue sky would help bring spotlights to the stage of the living, at the side of the pure white orb of innocent light.The Nightingale and The Lark20 hours ago in Short Stories
He embraces the beauty of the chilling twilight, and accepts the allure it offers to all. He is the night, the breeze you feel on those cold evenings, the fear that fills your heart. As well as the mystery that gives power to those who carry a soul painted with twisted desire, but covers what little purity they have and hold onto with dear life. Seen to the world's eyes as a monster instead of one who calls out, or of one in pain, their