AS: The Unluckiest Number prt1AS: The Unluckiest Number prt14 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The Unluckiest Number
Things just keep going from bad to worse
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Adrian as he slowly followed his father up the front steps. Danny had remained quiet the entire trip home, and that could only mean he was hurt deeply by his son's words. The young teen couldn't help but feel some sympathy for his dad, but he felt like his outburst was justified. After all, he was still mad at Danny for not being around very much, and the fact that Adrian and his siblings got kidnapped every couple of weeks and had to be rescued just made him feel more bitter and frustrated. He sighed as he trudged through the door.
Before he was even all the way inside, a usually soft voice assaulted his ears with an excited scream. "BROTHER!!!!" The next thing Adrian knew, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and he could barely keep stable from the sudden added weight.
The boy glanced down to see his littlest sister, Lilith Ann Fenton, hugging him tightly. She was dressed
Adrian Spook, PrologueAdrian Spook, Prologue6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Since the day I was born, my eyes have beheld the Ghostzone
The air was freezing. All around, voices whispered from shadows, their owners trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the abyss below. A silence fell over the area, a new cry echoed into the depths of the Ghostzone. The gathered spirits murmured excitedly. It had actually happened; the halfa's offspring had been born in the middle of the realm of the dead.
Sam Fenton held a little bundle in her arms as her amethyst eyes darted around, catching glimpses of nearby ghosts. Warily she clutched her precious cargo closer to her chest. Inside the soft blankets, two small eyes stared curiously at the surroundings. The child was a newborn, and the world he now saw was an awe-inspiring mystery to him.
The mother of the little miracle looked to her husband worriedly. "I still can't believe he was born her in the Ghostzone Doctor Patterson said our child would be born next week, not this "
Bite MeBite Me: An Analysis of the Myth of Woman in Stephenie Meyer's TwilightBite Me4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Since being published in 2005, Stephenie Meyer's Twilight has gone from just another young adult fantasy novel to a cult phenomenon that has gripped millions of readers of all ages. When a piece of literature becomes as widespread as Twilight, it becomes especially important to examine the messages it is sending to its readers many of whom, in Twilight's case, are impressionable young women. By applying a feminist lens to the novel and examining it in terms of Simone de Beauvoir's myth of woman, it is revealed that Twilight is a hotbed of antifeminist sentiment, from the skewed balance of power to the simple fact that none of the women in the novel are employed. If only because of the book's wide range of impact due to its bloated and romance-blinded fan base, it is important to take de Beauvoir's advice for viewing literature and expose how the myth of woman is perp
Save a HorseBuck heard the door close behind him, already counting the bills in his hands. Finding that the woman had overpaid him a little, he grinned something truly disconcerting on the face of a Holstein bull. He buttoned his shirt halfway up on his way to the elevator, hiding the perfect human body that made him all his money or at least most. His bovine ears twitched at the ding the elevator made when it reached the lobby of the hotel.Save a Horse4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Hey Buck," a plain brunette waved to him from behind the counter. He glanced up at her and tucked the wad of bills into his back pocket.
"Hi Kristy," he said in a deep, liquid baritone that sounded like exactly what anyone would suspect cattle to sound like if they could speak. "Working late again?"
Kristy shrugged, reaching back to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear. "Dennis cancels so often, and I need the money. What about you? This, uh an early job for you?"
"Nah, kind of middling," he said. "This is my second job this evening. I should
Death of a ChildOnce upon a time, I knew a little girl.Death of a Child4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Her eyes were bright green and full of energy, her hair cascaded down her waist in straight auburn lines, falling to the middle of her thighs. She always wore a smile; inherited from her mother. She spewed out quick wit that her father so generously gave to her.
She wore pink and loved the idea of make-up and boys. She would spend a few minutes a day practicing batting her eyelashes in the mirror beside her best friend. They would fall into giggles before running to their class together side-by-side.
She would talk of what the perfect boy would be like: he'd be super handsome. He'd buy her roses everyday and would say just the right things. He'd be smart and rich and he'd drive a really fancy car. Her family would love him and they would get married in the middle of a big church with 347 people attending, including the members of Nsync as their band.
She would grow up, she believed, and she would be pretty. She'd still be fun and liked as she was
Growing Up"Grow up!" they often tell me.Growing Up5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Get a life!" they always say.
But.... What do they expect me to do?
Send the innocence away?
I don't understand your logic...
You always said the magic was here...
In this place where my childhood still remains,
With no discomfort, sadness, or fear...
Now I'm 'too old' for things such as fantasy...
'Too far away' from the things I once held dear.
You wonder why I act so awkward now,
When you've left me with nothing here!
I've tried to do your bidding...
I've tried to do as you asked...
But, you know... growing up like you?
....It's not such an easy task.
Don't YOU remember these times?
For you, too, were once my age.
You were once in the spot light like I am now,
Thrust upon center stage.
You chose your dismal course in life.
And now look - how distraught you've become!
Yet now! Even with these memories!
You still force yourselves upon your young!
Telling us lies all about adulthood
When you too, are still nothin
A Witch's Voice: OktaviaA Witch's Voice: Oktavia4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As I swim through the world
The concert hall is my home
Fate's wheels continue to turn
The orchestra plays for me
The melody never rests
Their violin is only for me
I love it so very much
It keeps me moving
As I search for something
Something inside of me
Someone is holding the answer
Look at me!
I cry out
Look at me!
Someone will respond
Look at me!
But no one answers
I don't hear a response
All I see is red
Red . . .
What does it mean?
A voice cries out
I don't know its possessor
But my heart races
Faster and faster
Is this what I've been searching for?
Is this . . . Love?
It must be Love
I have found Love
Now I am complete
Snorlax's Daycare for Sonees and Roseys 2 Part 3Snorlax’s Daycare for Sonees and Roseys 2: The ReopeningSnorlax's Daycare for Sonees and Roseys 2 Part 35 months ago in Drama More Like This
Chapter III: Mommy
“Please God NOOOOGHHGHGHLHG!!!” screamed the Team Rocket pokemon poacher as Sandy Rosechu shoved her drill-arm through his sternum with a shrill mechanical roar. Torrents of blood splashed into her face as she killed the third troll poacher Sandy had gotten her drill arms on since she had arrived in the CWCville Woods.
“I g-got an-another one u-un-uncle p-p-p-Punchy!” Sandy cheered in glee and pride.
“Good job Sandy!” Punchy Sonichu complimented his niece as he caved in the last pokemon poacher’s skull with only his gloved hands about twenty yards away. “And thats the last of em, no survivors to try and come back and poach wild sonichus and rosechus ever again,” Punchy declared with pride as he wiped his hands together after a job well done.
“g-g-Glad I c-c-could help unc-c-cle p-Punchy,” Sandy said to her uncle. “I b
Lifetimes AwarenessSummers of drops,Lifetimes Awareness5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And melancholy thoughts,
As tunnels weave their way towards us,
We did nothing but sit and think.
Talking of dreams,
Weaving our schemes,
What was to be we did not concern,
We merely lived in the moment,
Savored what we have already discovered.
Voices drawn thin,
Singing the heart's intentions,
Quietly, confidently, for only one to hear.
Our aspirations soared,
Our plans reached new heights.
As barriers dropped, harsh sounds of falling,
Made us aware of the vague reality we left behind.
Two friends drove each other into a maddening awareness,
Discovering what was really there to find,
what is art?I do not call myself an artist, why? You may ask, well I do not create art, but then again what is art? A painting, a piece of music, a sculpture a poem, a story, a video game . this? Is this art? And what is good art? If I think a painting is ugly does it make that painting less of an art work? And what if I find this painting to be so ugly, so repulsive that I rather look at a dog crap, is the painting still art? And if so, is the dog crap art too? I mean I rather look at that instead of the painting? But then on the other hand I would not hang the crap on the wallwhat is art?6 years ago in Other More Like This
And how is good art measured, is it the amount of time the artist spends on his work, is it how groundbreaking his work is? Is it how much we can discuss, interpret the work in different ways?
Or is it a matter of scale? How big it is, how much color is used, how long the song is, and so on and if it is a matter of scale, is more better or is less more?
Or maybe it is a matter of po
The Mane Twelve Chapter 7 - The FreedomThe Mane Twelve Chapter 7 - The Freedom2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Mane Twelve Chapter 7 - The Freedom
Violet Haze led the second part of the Assault group through her proud steps. Her role as the leader fed the fire of confidence that now burned within her with passion. Right behind her stepped the Vita Twins, which accompanied Pinkie Pie. The pink mare was silent, lost in an aura of complete neutrality. The once cheerful party pony that was once well-known in Ponyville was no more, yet it was not another pony that had taken her place. She was neither happy, nor sad. She just... was, like an empty shell. Dolce's eyes drifted to the side, and managed to land a quick glance at the mare. Perhaps their support was not enough...
Nevertheless, Dolce kept a constant smile on her face, even if it wa
A.A: Bloody madness: prolouge" The calculated losses of the last escape are still unknown, do you really think it is wise to move them again, when I can clearly point out..."A.A: Bloody madness: prolouge4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Joker sat and listened to these inane staff members rambling about nothing. Nothing and the chaos he caused in the last escape of Arkham Asylum. Oh, that was fun. The delicious chaos he got from it was just too exquisite. The Joker scratched at the orange jumpsuit he had been made to wear. He despised it. He hated every moment of wearing it. But not long not long now until he could have his own clothing back.
He looked around the hall, at the few inmates who were sitting there staring at walls, or talking to each other, or in the case of one inmate, curled up making a 'meow" noise. He did love the little mad ones around him. He remembered an old Lewis Carrols quote Mad Hatter had once told him: "But I don't want to be among mad people. Oh you can't help that, almost everyone is mad here"
He thought it went like that
A new life in Baltimare-Dolce and Oscura Vita (1)It had only been one week ever since life returned back to normal. Or it would if everything was okay... We were on the move for a while, me and sis, trying to find a new place that suited our needs. Till we reached Baltimare. Crowded, stylish, modern, everything Dolce needed to proceed with her fashion career. I just followed, figured it would be best for her...A new life in Baltimare-Dolce and Oscura Vita (1)2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And Baltimare was indeed quite the place to live in. It reminded me a lot of Canterlot, back at university. That was a good year back then. After that, everything changed... Everything happened so fast...
It would be best not to think about it...
Mum and dad must be travelling again, we didn't seem to have any mail in quite a while. A phone call could have helped too... My best guess would be that they were back at Foalorence, visiting relatives. I was always neutral 'bout Foalorence. It's too...romantic for me, plus the accent kind of gets on my nerves. It's a good thing I spent most of my years in Canterlot.
Pokemon: SoulSilver Drabbles 1001. Don't LaughPokemon: SoulSilver Drabbles 15 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"I have an acquaintance that most people know as Mr. Pokèmon. He keeps raving about all of these discoveries, but--" Professor Elm stopped abruptly, frowning. "Lyra? Is something the matter?"
"N - No. It's nothing." Lyra put a fist in front of her mouth, trying very hard to reign in her giggles, but it was difficult. "That's a, uh -- a very interesting name." She tried to choke back another laugh, but failed, and Professor Elm sighed, looking faintly irritated.
"I know it isn't the most original name out there, but he is a good friend, and that isn't the point, anyway. If you could just not laugh and listen . . ."
"Right, right." Lyra cleared her throat, straightened up, and tried to look serious. "Sorry." Even so, she couldn't help the way her lips twitched at the corners, or the laugh that kept trying to crawl up her throat.
002. Running Shoes
"They're brand new! See you around!" The old man thrust the box of shoes into Lyra's hand
Follow Me Ch 1: ReturnFollow MeFollow Me Ch 1: Return5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
A Pokémon Heart Gold/Soul Silver Story
"Welcome to Johto, little Torchic!" Soul said with a smile as she and the Pokémon got off the Magnet Train. The Fire Pokémon tottered happily behind her as she left the station.
She stretched as they entered the evening air. It'd been a while since she'd been in Johto...not since the incident a few months ago. She stared at her feet, remembering it. Should she tell him? Surely he'd want to know...But then, what was the likelihood of her finding him? It'd been so long since she'd seen him, she wouldn't know where to start looking.
Soul sighed to herself, her face and eyes gloomy. Even if she did find him, she doubted she'd be able to tell him. She couldn't even express her true feelings to him. That, she knew, was very, very dangerous. She'd only make a fool of herself, and he'd most likely reject her, and quite rudely, at that. No...she couldn't tell him that.
The First Time She flitted through the window and over to the bed, a spark of light glinting off the edge of the coin that she held tight. She was excited. Queen Toothiana would be excited about this one too because it was his first tooth! Normal procedure was to fly under the pillow, retrieve the tooth and leave the coin, and exit the room, but she loved it when she collected a first tooth and couldn't help but pause to peer into the child's face.The First Time1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
He was mostly in shadow, but enough light came in for her to make out his brown hair and childish face. Even in sleep there was almost something impish in it, fun loving, but it was the mouth her attention was drawn to. His lips were parted slightly as soft breaths escaped gently to the air, the deep quiet breaths of sound slumber. Very faintly could she make out the white of his teeth.
She really shouldn't have, but she wanted to see where the tooth had been, so she sat down on his chin, causing his mouth
The Worst"Come on, England. We're going to be okay. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect." America lies to him as he supports the wounded Nation on his shoulder. England knows that America is trying to smile because 'he always does when things get bad.' America keeps up his stream of reassurances as they near the bunker, taking one step after another towards safety. "We're fine. The bunker's right there." England stumbles as another wave of bombs drops on London, a fresh spurt of blood begins to seep through his shirt. 'And I just changed those bandages, too.' England thinks dryly to himself. "Hey, we'll make it, just a few more steps, it's going to be okay, England."The Worst5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It irritates him that America has been spending so much of his time trying to reassure him lately. England had been living with the Blitz for long enough before America had arrived, and it wasn't as if that had killed him then. America shouldn't be supporting him towards the bunker in England's backyard, he should
Raggedy Doctor Rumpled MasterA Raggedy Doctor's Rumpled MasterRaggedy Doctor Rumpled Master4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
You were going down in flames, but I couldn't stay away, I was a moth drawn to the brightness of your fiery demise. I worshiped your radiance, lived in the warmth of your strength, because it's true what the humans say, isn't it? We always burn brightest just before we go into the cold dark. I should have known that it was coming, that you'd be gone from me once again. But I ignored it, I always ignore it.
I was so wrapped up in your spectacle, in you being who you are, burning through your unnatural life, that I forgot that my own was doomed to come to an end. You always could make me forget. Sad, isn't it? That these days the man you are, so different from the man you were, can still fog my mind and twist my hearts. We've both changed so much, and I pray, to every God that I have ever heard of, every night, every single night, for just one more instant of what we
Thirty Thousand FeetI love flying. I love the crush of hurrying people in the airport, and the vast expanses of patterned carpet, doing their best to be unobtrusive. I love the muffled feel of every sound while you're thirty thousand feet above the rest of the world, isolated. I love the tiny packages of organic vegan crackers and the little plastic pods of hummus just exotic enough to make you feel pretentious for eating it, but uncultured for not eating it on the ground.Thirty Thousand Feet4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I've never associated the airport with personal unhappiness. I watched people angry with their children, their spouse, their alarm clock, their luggage, and I secretly smiled, because from my vantage point, I knew that none of it was important.
Now I am on the other end of that telescope as first class is called for boarding and I sit, The Washington Post open but unread in my lap, with my strangely empty suitcase and my boarding pass folded in my hands. Outside the ceiling-high windows to my left, planes full of travelers arrive
Somepony That I Used to KnowSomepony That I Used to Know2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Now and then I think of when you were on the show
Like when you said you just don't what went rone
Told myself that you were right for kids
And felt so happy in your company
But that was friendship and it's a feeling I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kind of (pony/show)
Like waiting for the season finale
Always the finale
So when we found that you could not make the rote
Well you said that you would still be in the back
But I'll admit that I was sad that you were over
But they didn’t have to censored you
Fro-ing her out like a baked-bad
And that she were nothing
And they don’t even think of your fans
But they treat you like a baked-bad
And that feels so rone
They didn’t have to to censorer you
Make the bronys cry in there beds
And then change the Dr name
I guess that they don’t like us though
Now you’re just somepony that I used to know
Now you’re just somepony that I used to know
Now you’re jus
AlbatrossAs a rule,Albatross9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't write poetry.
It tends to
Express too much feeling,
Too much personality,
Too much mood,
Too much of yourself.
It always seems rude,
To express yourself so freely
In such a short space of time.
Flowing from syllabic ink,
Undying on the page,
Ever protected by
The collective rectum.
Best words in
But I don't like it.
Instead, I write
What I like to write.
Poems that express nothing,
That have deep meaning,
But no feeling.
At the same time.
A swimming pool
Crawling with air,
And filled with emptiness.
Screaming in space,
Outdone by the silence,
The albatross slips in
Somewhere, I can't help it.
Dylan is leaning over my shoulder,
Telling me to "write
About it, my son. Write your fears.
Spread them on to the page,
You'll feel better
I never do, though.
It just feels silly.
As a rule,
I leave it in the hands
Who love it.