chivalry lives, after allyou told mechivalry lives, after all6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that i was the perfect combination
of beautiful and witty
of intelligent and down-to-earth
of mysterious and captivating:
a princess in every respect but title.
i told you
that you had me on a pedestal
-- no, a tall tower poised to topple --
and little boys hate it
when they find out that their goddesses
are mortals in disguise.
you told me
that if and when i fell from grace
you would be there to catch me
and tell me i was perfectly imperfect
and carry me home.
i told you
i believed you.
(yet i didn't understand why.)
but you never told me
that you were not the prince you convinced both of us you were
that you were never waiting at the bottom of my tower,
arms outspread, strong and faithful.
you had been holding me in your arms all along,
a mortal man trading heartbeats with a mortal woman.
and love, to me,
is no longer defined in terms of games
we've both already won all there is to be won.
because the earthquakes and nooses and fiery pits
BolideIf the world ends tomorrow--Bolide2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My dad will sit out in a lawn chair
the freezing Minnesota air,
chainsmoking and smirking.
And you, maybe if you wanted,
we'd stand at the top of the Indian mounds
like we did on the Fourth of July years ago
and watch meteors firework across the sky.
There will be no mini doughnut stand this time,
no children laughing at the bright flashes,
but also no repentance.
If the world ends tomorrow,
you don't need to apologize for anything.
Hearts are fragile things
and it's not like this world
hasn't been struck by a meteor before.
MonarchWings erupt from their casing,Monarch2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A transparent gold-rimmed shell.
Small, wet petals
blossom into fiery wings
that leave trails of ash across fingertips,
charcoal stains on outstretched hands.
They burn across the landscape,
flocking in fiery clouds over fields.
Their crepe paper wings carry them onward
like small kites drifting on the breeze.
Shedding cells and color
for 2,000 wind-beaten miles.
The Nursing Home Parrot'convert wingspan into lifespans.'The Nursing Home Parrot2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This isn't about the parrot in her will.
"Them sparrows learned him how to sing."
This is about the will in her parrot,
how daily he rattles off everything she forgot at the grave--
the keys to the house, the keys to the car, her name.
She'd given the cowbird in her field guide a new name,
The Parasite, imagined him with the lifespan
of a tumor, deceitful about its age, moss on a grave.
'To be a parasite, all you need is the will
to take away.' In a nursing home parlor, the parrot
now speaks of a host whose body was a nest, who could sing
the song of blood, only the flowing and never the shed, who could sing
as though her voice never became static. A forgetful man asked for his name
one morning, muttering those of his children. The parrot
told him of sea turtles, scuttled about the cage. "Lifespans
begin in the water." He then conjugated every flower in the past tense.
'No lie lacked tears.' 'She bought her grave
on her own, rose again.'" Red and blue
Fill in the blank.Sometimes people leaveFill in the blank.2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
these why-sized holes in our lives
after they depart.
SatelliteIt's one of those too-long nights,Satellite2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where I'm too awake
and you're too honest.
You tell me you have your fix:
leave a constellation on the walls,
your star gazing eyes glazing.
But no, please--
You are more than a meteor.
More than a flash, crash, burn.
It's like the sky is cracked
and the stars are slipping into space.
The pockmarked, indecisive moon
has turned her back on you, as before.
But I am still in orbit.
Maybe if you are drunk enough, you'll lean on me
slur out solar systems of sadness,
stagger down streets through broken nebulae of lights.
Maybe tell me you're sorry; I was right.
But after so many oblivious shooting stars,
somehow I doubt it.
Borrowed SpaceThere’s something about apartments that feels second hand. When we moved, our neighbor gave us plates with apples printed on them. Their colors have faded into a chipped sigh. They would have gone with our old kitchen—we had red curtains and apple-lined wallpaper. She got those plates from the bank, a gift for opening up a new account. Probably the same bank that took our old house. Will they want the plates back, too?Borrowed Space2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I shelved the plates with the tired, mismatched coffee mugs. The blue, flowered ones are from Grandma—she didn’t want them anymore after her husband died. The clouded grey mug came from the machine shop Dad worked before he got laid off. The checkered, lavender mug was a Mother’s Day present to my mom when I was in fourth grade. It was one of the few things she left behind after she moved.
Our thrift store couch looks weary, as if it’s tired of moving from place to place. The dark blue cushions sag in the center and its arm
Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.Hollow Memory of a Distant Shore2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.
When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.
I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes.
With the way they would trot up and down the beach in the early morning,
Their coats most often wet and muddy from crossing into the tide.
I could see the subtle enthrallment in your eyes as they dug for clams.
They would thrust their forepaws deep into the muck, throw it backward..
And at times, to my assuagement, you would smile.
Now, it feels more dist
Griffin Rider: A PropositionCaleb ran his hand over Bracken's breastplate, examining its surface carefully as he examined it for damage. The tawny beast in question lay sprawled besides him. The griffin's blue eyes watched Caleb's motions intently, its head turning rapidly to follow even the slightest shift in its rider's body.Griffin Rider: A Proposition3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Bracken's beak lunged forward suddenly, pecking at Caleb as he adjusted the breastplate's straps.
"Here! Off ye great winged git!" Caleb snarled, throwing up his hand and grabbing the griffin by the beat. "The damned thing is loose ya fool, how're ye supposed to protect yer chest if ye've got a loose breast piece eh? Tell me that why dontcha."
The griffin chirped and warbled at him indignantly before settling into a low humming growl that emanated from its thick chest.
"Oh yer just sulking ye great oaf." Caleb replied tersely, rubbing Bracken between his ears affectionately. "It'll be alright, just ye watch."
Bracken chirped again and pulled his head away with a snort, turning back to poke
*Silkworm*Busy*Silkworm*2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Whoever said that autumn had to be beautiful?An indecisive autumn falls over the landscape this year.Whoever said that autumn had to be beautiful?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sky peeks through the tops of patchwork trees.
Their colors are broken.
Some are nude.
Others seem to light themselves on fire. Sometimes I take pictures.
One by one
The cicada calls deaden.
The crickets have abandoned the night
And the air is still enough
To hear a train's whistle fade farther away.
Geese fly overhead, pointing to somewhere better.
Where are you going?
Anywhere but here.
I cannot tell the difference between what is leaving and what is simply dying.
Medieval MisconceptionsHeavy, cumbersome swordsMedieval Misconceptions8 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
- The issue of weight seems to be one of the most commonly mistaken aspects of medieval combat. Smiths all made swords slightly differently and each fighter had his own preferences. It is impossible to generalize when it comes to the technology of an entire continent from c/ 500-1500 AD, and both very heavy and very light swords existed. In terms of what was typical, though,, here’s a rough guide to averaged:
Single-handed sword (aka sword) - 2.5 pounds
Hand-and-a-half (aka bastard sword) 2.5-3 lbs
Two-hander (aka longsword) - 3 to 3.5 pounds.
The absolute largest swords still rarely hit the 5-pound mark. These were designed to serve very specific tactical functions on the battlefield and were not intended for general-use purposes. Experience showed smiths and warriors that this was the ideal weight range for their weapon. It’s essentially natural selection at work: people whose swords were too light or too heavy went off to battle and
The WritersPapyrusThe Writers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Smell it upon thy nose
As lungs of graphite
Breathe in the body
Shapely and refined
Crisp and sharp
Verily it is so
Perchance we will meet
Our souls are black
Rotten to the core
Of our third eye
Dost thou see it!
The bright shining light that calls to us
Flow like water
What music doth flow
Muffled and silenced
By its cage of wood
We shall never break free
Smell our stench of determination
Hear our mutter ramblings
Taste our words as we force them into your mouths
Watch as we carve our creations
Chisel and hammer
Dance little puppet!
Dance for us!
Do our bidding
We are your Masters
We shall last forever.
We are the Writers.
Dragon Age: The Ferelden Chronicles (1)Dragon Age: The Ferelden Chronicles (1)3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Title: The Ferelden Chronicles - Chapter One
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Summary: Varia Surana thought her life had already been mapped out for her. She would be a mage of the Circle of Ferelden, studying and perfecting her craft. However, an unforseen series of events sends her headlong into a world thrown into chaos by the King's death and an impending Blight.
Pairings: Cullen/Surana; eventual Alistair/Surana
Characters (This Chapter): Varia Surana, First Enchanter Irving, Knght-Commander Greagoir, Cullen
Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and any dialogue taken from the game ©BioWare. Varia belongs to me.
Content Warning: Mage Origin Spoilers; Overall game spoilers; Adult language; Mild violence; mature content in later chapters
Chapter One: The Final Tes
Chilly Times Call For WarmthMalik woke up that morning, to find the Bureau freezing. The three blankets he had wrapped around himself didn't seem like they were enough, as he was curled up into a tight ball. How much did the temperature drop last night ? he thought, shivering as he sat up in bed. He knew that the winter season brought along low temperatures, but they usually weren't this cold. He sat there in bed for a moment, with the blankets wrapped around him, before finally willing himself to stand and get dressed into something warmer. Once dressed, Malik walked out of his room and, once he was in the main part of the Bureau, he realized why it was so cold.Chilly Times Call For Warmth4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Snow covered the ground outside. Peeking into the room with the cushions, he found that snow had fallen through the ceiling and had made a nice pile of it on the floor. As he went into the back room to get the broom, he could hear others outside. Most of what he heard were children voices, asking in wonderment what the 'white stuff' wa
Final Fantasy OC TemplateCharacter Profile and Biography::Final Fantasy OC Template3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Physical description and Appearance:
Best guy/girl match up to your oc: (relationship wise)
Which FF is your oc from: (ex: FF7)
Special Abilities, attacks, skills, magic, Limit Breaks:
Advantages in battle:
Disadvantages in battle:
RWBY OC Blank Bio Sheet / ProfileIntroduction of CharacterRWBY OC Blank Bio Sheet / Profile11 months ago in Profiles More Like This
Nickname: (If none, leave blank)
Race: (Human, Faunus, Other)
Affiliation(s): (Signal Academy, Beacon Academy, White Fang, Other)
The Character’s Appearance
Hair: (Colour and Length)
About The Character
Status: (Active, Retired, Dead)
Occupation: (Hunter/Huntress, Student, Teacher)
Physical Characteristics: (What do they look like?)
Accessories: (Key Items the character possesses)
[Be as detailed as you can with your character’s personality. DO NOT JUST PUT DOWN WORDS! Go into depth with your character.]
BellyacheSirens wailed and Jesse almost fell down the few metal steps into the engine room in his hurry to reach the stricken machine. Red light bathed the room and strobed over the brass and steel in steady flashes. Jesse ran to the pressure gages, watching the little black needle tap against the edge as it fought to read numbers that didnt exist. Punching buttons, the mechanic tried to release the steam feeds but the lights on the control board just winked at him in frantic red and green. He ducked under a bunch of rattling brass banded pipes and fought his way around to the main engine compartment. He swore as boiling water dripped down from the ceiling, but the scald scars would only join the collection that already littered his hands and upper arms. Steam filled the small compartment making it as hot and clammy as a sauna. Water clung to his short blonde hair and stuck his shirt to his back like a second skin. Blinking water out of his eyes he ran his hands lightly over the hot pipesBellyache6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Baldur's Gate: Adventures In The Sword Coast ProloBaldur's Gate: Adventures In The Sword Coast Prolo2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Baldur's Gate: Adventures In The Sword Coast
Prologue: Leaving Home
"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster... when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you..."
For years, the lands between Waterdeep to the north of Baldur's Gate and Amn to the south bordered on the west by the Great Ocean and the east by the Wood of Sharp Teeth have been called the "Empty Lands", due to its vast stretch of wilderness that people venture into to get from one town to another. The trips are known to be dangerous, hence the name "Sword Coast", because of grisly fates that befell travelers at the hands of orcs, trolls, hobgoblins, giant spiders, and worse threats like ghasts, worgs and ettercaps. All varieties of humanoid species live in the Sword Coast: humans, elves, halflings, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, and as of right now, at this very moment, Baldur's Gate and the neighboring towns in the Sw
FemHawke x Fenris: The RitualThe RitualFemHawke x Fenris: The Ritual3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Story Elements: drama/comfort/angst
Pairing: female mage Hawke and Fenris
Synopsis: Fenris and Hawke discuss the ritual that Fenris endured at the hands of the magisters/Danarius. Descriptions of the ritual with back and forth between the two. Implied Romance.
Hawke took a seat next to Fenris at her desk in the library. He had chosen a book about lyrium of all things. Such dry reading.
"Why lyrium Fenris? I thought you wouldn't want a book discussing something so... close to home," Hawke said gently as she flitted her eyes to Fenris' markings. He must have caught her glance.
"And why not Hawke, I shouldn't care to know more about what was carved into me?" He retorted. Hawke recoiled a bit from his gaze. He must have caught that, too.
"I'm sorry. It's just, this book has so many uses for lyrium. How Templars use it, how mages use it to augment their powers, but nothing about it being bran
SwitzerlandxBlind!ReaderSwitzerlandxBlind!Reader2 years ago in Romance More Like This
It happened about nine years ago when you were only seven years old; or at least that’s when it started. You knew something was wrong with you because your parents made you see different doctors all the time. Your head would always hurt and your eyes would itch and sometimes you couldn’t see at all. You remember lying awake in bed feeling so hopeless and confused, but you never fully understood the entire crisis that was happening. One night you overheard your parents arguing. Your mom was crying and your dad was yelling. “We don’t have the money to take care of her! Do you really think we can afford this?” “I don’t want to lose my baby…” “Do you really want a disabled child? Do you really think you can take care of that? Not only would we have to pay for the medical bills, but we would have to invest on renovating the house to adjust to her needs. And what about school? She can’t go to a public school, no. We would hav
Tears of a Woman1. ConflictingTears of a Woman3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Leaf sniffed quietly. She hugged her knees, hiding her trembling mouth. Her red puffy eyes stared soullessly into the dancing flames.
Suddenly, a warm coat wrapped around her body. She looked up, only to see a distressed Green. The young leader sighed heavily and crouched down to her level. "Stop crying," he said, patting her head softly. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. But it's not that I hate you." His hand took her chin, slowly lifting her up to meet his gaze.
"But just remember, no matter how far we are, you're always in my mind." He wiped the tears off her face. A small, innocent smile curved up his lips. "So stop crying, you pesky little girl coz you're making me feel pathetic for losing to you."
Hikari wiped her tears. She bit her lip, holding back another sob. The young dark brunette slumped her back against the wall, her lips pursed into a sorrowful frown. Her hands moved to her necklace, gripping the black pendant tightly. Her
closed eyes, open handstime turns like a knife in the wound, and weclosed eyes, open hands8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
are scripted to follow. my skin
is a photograph, impressions of light lingering:
an inverted world in a lake of oil.
silence pens your name in me
like telegraph wire, unraveled
across miles of thought. outside,
a train passes, sleeking its bulk away
into a glass night, and i remember
that i do not remember
what it is to be precious. here like the sky
after lightning, a crack
through which the night escapes
and returns again.
if i cannot unwrite myself from flesh,
i will unwrite everything. peel the names
from the stars and leave my sky
voiceless. where is my softness now,
polaris, octantis, the axis of the blade; too dark now
to heave my sail back
into the wind. too dark. too dark.
closed eyes, open hands. the sonorous vastness
you have left behind. i am a white flag
with nothing more
to surrender, trove ripe
with fool's gold. all my tinsel plunder