Midori A. Catesby ProfileMidori A. Catesby Profile3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
OC PROFILE TEMPLATE
FMA series: FMA Brotherhood
Name: Midori Anne Catesby
Blood Type: AB positive
Ethnicity: 25% Endenese 75% Amestrian
Xingese Zodiac: Ox
D.O.B: June 1, 1889
Place of Birth: Central City, Amestris
Current Residence: Central City
Central City: Ages 0 11
Xiam Su, Xing: Age 11 - 17
Central City: Ages 17 25
Ishval: Ages 25 28
Central City: 4 months
Reisei, Enden: 28 29 (6 months)
Central City: 29- (Does small trips to Ishval for a couple of years, then stays in Central City permanently)
Occupation: Sergeant Major
She studies till the age of 11. She's ho
PatienceSo, I'm supposed to wait, am I?Patience7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
But who for?
Am I waiting until I'm ready,
Or until you are?
I often think I'm waiting for a sign,
A sure sign that there's something there,
That I'm not imagining it,
Or seeing something that isn't real.
Then sometimes, I get a sign,
And it has me puzzling for days,
Wondering whether it means one thing,
And then I stop,
And wait again,
Hoping the next sign is clearer,
And tells me what I want to hear.
what do I want to hear?
That what I feel is okay,
That you feel it too?
And even if I was sure,
Would I be able to tell you,
that I feel this way,
That I love you too?
I doubt it,
so you know what?
I'll do what I've always done,
And what I'll always do.
I'll just wait.
Vida Confusa... Capitulo 1...Capítulo 1.Vida Confusa... Capitulo 1...5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Julian - ¡¿Cómo pudiste Lucien?! Ella es mi hija.
Lucien - Lo lo siento Julian por favor, perdóname No fue mi intención
Julian - No esto nunca te lo perdonaré Yo te mataré.
-Después de que Julian dijo eso, le empezó a pegar a su hermano Lucien pero alguien fue a defenderlo -
Cloe - ¡Déjalo padre! No le pegues a mi tío.
Julian - Cloe, vete a tu cuarto ahora mismo
Cloe - NO, yo yo ¡amo al tío Lucien!
Recuerdo muy bien esa pelea y como me cambió la vida. También me acuerdo como me contaron su vida mi padre y mi tío Lucien, hay muchas cosas que no me dijeron y son unas grandes preguntas
Empezaré con mi padre.
Julian Stevenson, él que me ha enseñado tantas cosas, un hombre con pelo castaño y ojos de color verde muy claro, amable, muy lindo y amoroso, además estaba casado, con mi madre, Mari.
PlaygroundPlayground3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All that autumn her ghost haunted the playground;
no wisping phantom, but strident bits and pieces
clamoring for attention - a pair of black patent
leather shoes waiting expectantly by the teeter-totter.
And Sister Teresa had to pry red woolen mittens
off the jungle gym every morning.
Jimmy Boyle kept seeing her sweater at the swings,
its green wooly arms daring him to go higher
and trying to tag him "it".
And her best friend, Jenny Black
could see the flash of her pigtails
throwing copper across the kickball field
where recess waited to swallow them.
The toys vanished from the sandbox every evening
leaving nothing but a soft trail of disappointment
in their wake -
their accusations of neglect
and longing crouched under the
maple trees, swarming with the bees.
But winter proved a discordant grave -
the protest of frozen ground
an errant melody in the schoolyard
and her shoes kept shrinking
and stumbled down the slide,
leaving a thick crust of frost
like somber tracks that said good-bye
Whispers of the MadWhispers of the Mad:Whispers of the Mad3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your lips remain painted with the scars of torment
Carved so as to split with every word of speech
The glass that slices through your softened flesh
Bears the marking we know as 'Vinashuka'
And now he lies beneath the falling sand
Drowning in a world that is sinking away
Though his feet will seek the stability of ground
He finds himself caught by 'Vinashuka'
A disturbing word that rings hollow at best
For it carries the tone of a tainted solitude
A heart that has been corrupted by physical pain
Can only scream 'Vinashuka!'
How does a man know when he has gone insane?
To descend into a world where logic is naught
A moon that carries the colour of blood
Shall paint my skin with 'Vinashuka'
I have lost all sense of meaning in this place
There is no where else for my soul to flee
Caught within the whispers of delusory madness
I can only repeat Vinashuka...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 13th July 2012
SuigintouI'm not an angelSuigintou8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm just a doll
A piece of perfect
With nowhere better to fall
I can't love you
Until I've used you
And fixed my wings
(and other things)
No one else means anything
But you do
So keep singing
Till I save you
The beauty of others
Means nothing to me
The freedom of others
Makes me less free
Distractions amuse me
Memories abuse me
Then I find my way back to you
(I always do)
No one else has anything
That I need
So I'll stay
Till you're freed
I wish I could
Sleep next to you
If only because
You want me to
My piece of a heart
Is not enough
For such a simple thing
Don't close your eyes
You're not alone
Don't close your window
I'm coming home
Spilt MilkOh, foolish bowl,Spilt Milk5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One busy night,
Fell in love with the milk,
Cold, and sweet.
She filled up every part of you-
The cracks you liked, and those you didn't.
She made you feel you were the only one,
One key to fit one lock.
Be glad, by morning she'd dried and gone,
See, we were using you.
She filled me just as full, and then,
She went and left me too.
A vixen who takes every mold,
As though they were her true.
Without us she knows not what she is,
Not the shape of her own face.
And if you'd broken? If you'd tried,
To let her set herself?
She'd have left, have run away,
And you'd be weeping your bright paint.
She never wanted to own herself,
She wanted to be somebody else.
HabitsIts in the way she smiles,Habits5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And in the way she sighs,
The way her hair has gentle curls,
The colour of her eyes.
How she's clumsy like a puppy,
Yet stronger than she looks,
And sometimes when she feels the need,
She really likes to cook.
Its in the way she walks,
And how she likes to cuddle,
Its in the way she's so damn smart,
She leaves me in a muddle.
Its how she's soft and oh so warm,
And sweeter than she knows,
Its in the way she acts all cute,
And how her accent flows.
Its all these things and more,
That put me in a whirl,
That make me give a smile and think,
Damn, I love this girl.
MinutesI'm thinking about your lips,Minutes6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
How they'll feel when I kiss them,
Warm, soft, sweet,
Slightly dampened by your tongue just seconds earlier.
I'm thinking about the noises we'll make,
Snuggled under the covers,
The quiet smack of our mouths as they move together,
The light whimpers as we tease and touch.
I'm thinking about waking up in your arms,
Feeling the beat of your heart against my ear,
Hearing your shallow breaths of slumber,
Inhaling the intoxicating scent of sleep on your skin.
Sixty seconds a minute,
Sixty minutes an hour,
Twenty-four hours a day,
I'm thinking of you.
An artistAn artist3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Staring at a blank paper
Is an artist's worst nightmare.
The artist is the shaper,
Their thoughts somewhere up in the air.
They are searching for inspiration,
Sometimes they are even searching the skies.
It takes a lot of concentration,
But you can always see the passion burning in their eyes.
Being an artist does not always mean you're creative.
It just means that you want to create something,
And never want to give up.
I Pinky PromiseI Pinky Promise3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let us talk for a little while
And let me make you smile
Let me take you out every night
And you will be the best sight
Nothing can compare
Because I love you I swear
Nightmare: The Secret KeeperNightmare: The Secret Keeper3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nightmare: The Secret Keeper
I know, I know; I've asked too much of you already
Up until today I've asked for what I don't deserve
I hope, I hope; you will always be able to put up with me
Because everyone else chooses to ignore my words
So please, please; I want you to take me, and hide me far away
I need you to do this for me; I never, ever want to be found again
Take my will, take my heart, take my tears, take my name
Take my life, take my soul, take my fear, take my pain
Pull me into you, and keep me close to your void of a heart, so I can lose myself
Hold me in your arms, and keep everything in your palms, I yearn to be held
I can no longer stay
So please take me, and hide me before it's too late
I never wanted you to know that I don't care about myself anymore
You need to know up until this day I still feel so, so hollow
It's okay, it's okay, feel my peace, I'm giving it to you, so don't worry
Because you need it more
AnonymousI am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backsAnonymous3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines
I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy
Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils
I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops
While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck
Wasting days wondering why grass is green
And how it can be greener for others and not I
Then I realized its all artificial food colouring
And polystyrene picket fences
Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile
I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour
But like all mangled words I will be thrown inside a wastebasket
Saved for a rainy day
SWAN- second life versions?"When people look at me, what do they see?"SWAN- second life versions?6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"When people look at me, who is it they see?"
Johnny's feet came into Edgar's line of vision, black and white striped socks. Because the floor was hot and the room was cold, he'd said. Edgar's eyes travelled up past one of those worn-through socks: past Johnny's ankle, barely visible under the just short hem of a pantleg; past the almost-graceful curve of his knee; up his chest, hollow-looking and caved beneath his favourite shirt; and finally met black eyes that blazed through blue bangs that hung in the way with the tilt of Johnny's head.
"Do they look at me, or do they see me?" he said to the floor, "Do they really reject me for the way I look? Or is it not what's on the skin, but what's below it, and they can see? Can they sense it- the fact that I'm not quite right, that something inside of me has long ago become unplugged?"
Edgar slowly sat up from his perch between the couch and the television. Johnn
Jynx's BoxJynx's Box5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Inspiration can come from anywhere.
But it is what we do with these inspirations, these small slips of candy-flavored cloud that really determine the extent of the will and creativity of the individual. For example, let us pretend that such things can actually be held. Like scraps of paper from magazines and books we hoard them in tiny boxes we keep in our back pockets only to be sifted through when the fancy suits us.
These boxes are our subconscious, they are the most basic and primal projections of us.
We are nothing without our projections.
We are nothing without our dreams.
We are nothing without our inspirations.
Our potential to see beyond a strange figure in a mirror to the reflection of our physical bodies is what separates us from all others. There is no love in this, there is no vanity. Potential is as simple as looking and recognizing one's self. That being said these boxes, our subconscious minds, are simply conv
The FallThe FallThe Fall6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
But when God's toys cast off their Keys,
they call it "Revolution"
as born on Earth since the dawn of man,
when the Lord first sought solution.
Experimenting, testing always,
pushing at the boundaries,
that He Himself created.
Saints and Sinners from his foundries,
and with his Mercy, this puppeteer,
this scientist, this child,
pushes back and forth and contradicts,
we murdered and he smiled.
Jealous God, Capricious Being,
with angels in His fists,
tyrant in his cosmic heart,
love in swinging wrists.
ineffible and cruel,
a king whose subjects toil all
in fear of iron rule.
As above, so below,
the Revolution nears.
The streets are lit with broken glass,
and doused with angels' tears
Serephim will ask you--
The riddle sits in wait,
two-fold and asking why.
And here, my dear, the question:
if we are governed without consent,
is it our right to abolish?
That when the future looks back to us
What will we represent?
OneShot: La Leccion de RomanoFandom: Axis Powers HetaliaOneShot: La Leccion de Romano6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Personajes: México | Italia del Sur | Alemania
Escrito por: mara-the-raccoon
La Lección de Romano
Era un día soleado en la casa de México, Italia del Sur (Romano) no entendía muy bien para que lo había citado a su casa.
- es extraño que me invite a pasar un rato a su casa... - piensa Romano, el hermano mayor de Italia del Norte - se le veía muy molesto conmigo desde que comenté que sus mujeres tenían mucho bigote...
En ese preciso instante llegó México a recibirlo con una gran sonrisa
-¡Romano! Qué bueno que viniste, espero no hayas tenido inconvenientes en el viaje...
-¡Ah! México, no, no tuve problemas gracias, pero dime, ¿a que me invitaste? - preguntó Romano algo preocupado, tenía un mal presentimiento
-Bueno, a mi no me gusta el pleito, así que decidí invitarte a mi casa compadre, para olvidar lo sucedido ¿sale vale? - M&
APH One-Shot: Mexican CuriousENTREVISTANDO A MÉXICOAPH One-Shot: Mexican Curious6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
E: Díganos, según usted, ¿porque el mexicano es "malinchista"?
M: Mire, no es que el mexicano sea malinchista, es solo que nuestra moneda está decayendo y hasta los yenes son muy bienvenidos.
E: ¿Qué opina acerca de la gran pobreza en el país?
M: A chingados, ¡pues que dejen de tener hijos y punto! Si no tienen nada pa' tragar y aparte andan reproduciéndose como conejos, ¡por eso tenemos tantos índices de pobreza!
E: ¿Y sobre las hambrunas?
M: Como diría mi Abuelo Azteca; solo matándolos se les quita el hambre
E: hum... ¿Y acerca de las inconformidades sobre el gobierno bimbonista?
M: Hombre, es que mira, cuando ganaba el RIP nadie estaba conforme -y yo tampoco la verdad- y luego cuando comenzó al fin a haber verdadera democracia, ganando la oposición, ¡tampoco están conformes! Estos no se quedan satisfechos con nada joder.
E: OK... ¿y sobre lo que dicen de la