Bleach OC: SwarrmBleach OC: Swarrm5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Age: Unknown (Apparent age is vague)
Alliance: Cuarto Espada
Appearance: Swarrm is a bit of an enigma, even amongst the generally eccentric and fearsome population of Hueco Mundo. In the various records of its presence, some of which date back nearly a millennium ago, it always appears as a sort of Hollow-equivalent of the Boogie-Man. No two accounts agree on what the mysterious Espada actually looks like. Some say that Swarrm is a gorgeous, fluid woman with raven hair and crystal skin and deep brown eyes that could swallow a man whole. Others swear that it's a strapping young man who's neither too muscular or too frail. Still more speak of a small child with one blue eye and another made of glass. The evidence points to multiple conclusions regarding the actual nature of Swarrm. It's possible that it possesses an innate shape-shifting ability; a technique that isn't all that unique amongst the vast p
red red rosesi am not a goddessred red roses1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
nor do i
believe i wish to
i'd rather be a half-forgotten
or a girl with opium
eyes and a
who doesn't believe in
kisses demons with lips
that whisper poetry as artificial
as the mannequins in a
i want wings:
appendages stitched from
and the feathers you
can find on
the ground - dirty,
ripped, but still
and i would soar
higher and higher
and buy up
all the stars.
if i am being
i fall in love with
and wolf boys
much like the way a candle
melts; fast, hot, and dripping
wax down the side.
i just want to fit
between these ugly bones
and the too-tight skin
that stretches across them.
FFM VI (The Astronaut)I've always liked astronauts. There is a strange romanticism attached to someone who finds the entire world so mundane that they feel compelled to leave it behind. (I hear that the word mundane means "earthly." Figures.) They need more. They need the universe. They need everything that ever was and ever will be.FFM VI (The Astronaut)3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My husband is an astronaut, and as a child, I wanted to become one too. I could leave my little world behind. But as I grew, my little world also grew, and I realized that there was more than enough to explore and discover on this planet. I had my love, the astronaut and we lived in a tiny, little house where I played wife and he played husband. My world was little again, but it was perfect.
But of course, he had to suit up and take off. And I got left behind.
Most nights, I sit in
ourmy garden, and look up at the night sky. I watch the stars and know that he is up there, flying among them and I wish for them to bring him back.
And I know that this
Asperger'slike my own universeAsperger's5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
jokes only I understand
handwriting that's illegible
to everyone but me
I want to approach you
but I can't figure out
I'm also as mature
as the rest of you
I just don't want
to be alone
you all think I'm stupid
but I'm a genius
I just can't prove it
REPO: Et In Arcaerdia Ego, Chapter IREPO: Et In Arcaerdia Ego, Chapter I5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA:†ET IN ARC∆DIA EGO
Chapter I:††"Plaga Medicus"
Written by Abri Isgrig and Diane N. Tran
Dr. Juan Guerrero read that headline splashed across the front page of a discarded copy of the magazine, Vanity and Vein:
WHO IS THE PLAGUE DOCTOR?
The infamous Repo Man an urban legend, a figment of the mind's eye, a ghoul, a boogeyman was sketched upon the cover, with a pair of hollow, soulless eyes and a long, vulturine beak and a dramatic, flowing cape.††It was amusing really, as it looked nothing like him.††Artists are a strange and imaginative lot, but not very smart.
Guerrero tossed the magazine into the gutter, studying it roll along with the other trash the wind carried.†††He turned on his holographic watch:
It was time. †Would she come?
Turning the corner, a woman, fresh and beautiful, pranced down the half-lit all
Teacup FriendsWe brew cups of tea and remember them thirty minutes later. The water is still warm when we pull out the teabag, but the liquid is thick and smells bitter. We drink it anyway;the syrupy liquid coats our throats and stains our stomachs. We drink it anyway, since we took the time to make it.Teacup Friends3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We figure they are like that; bitter, forgotten cups of tea that we invested so much time in making. (We even give them names: Earl Grey, Peppermint, Breakfast Blend, and Chamomile.)
Chamomile was the first to go, clipping the hair above his ears, buttoning himself up inside a black pea coat, tying it all up with a noose-like scarf around his neck.
Inside we mourned, but outside we laughed about how silly this all was. As if the way he wore his hair determined his newfound spite. As if the pea coat was a rite of passage, a ticket to better things.
But then Breakfast Blend, Peppermint, and Earl Grey followed, sweeping locks of hair beneath the rug and buttoning four years inside their pea coats. (It
ImpressionableYou left impressions in her skin and they sank straight down to her heart. You always told her that she was impressionable, but she never took it quite so literally.Impressionable3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She was holding memories so tightly that her hands started to burn. Each day a layer of skin would char and crumble. She swept the ash off and carried on.
Sometimes when she felt lonely, she would take old blankets and wrap herself in them. They smelled like the people who used them before her. They have absorbed their dreams, their feelings, their hearts. She liked to hear other peoples' dreams because she never had one herself.
She never felt quite at home. She worried about getting caught in a gust of wind and tossed down in a field somewhere, but secretly, she hoped for it.
She missed you. She wouldn't admit it, but I could see it in her face and hear it in her words.
She lost her right shoe one night. She walked a half mile in the rain without it and arrived at the front door with a big smile on her face. Sometimes I
Fieldswe braided stalks of wheat with our teethFields3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and bloodied our knuckles on old twigs
she tried vainly to heal them with her kisses
i pushed pebbles with my toes
and we existed together
for the first and last time
in the spaces of the silence
Lost my heartSometimes when you're young.Lost my heart5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Having moments of such happiness.
A place so magical, nothing wrong.
It must have been Atlantis.
Where two leave their hearts,
in a haven protected.
Hand in hand, returning homewards,
eyes with love reflected.
But she didn't trust,
her heart near his.
Being affraid, not of disgust,
but of losing this bliss.
His love never ending,
but she didn't show.
This wound isn't mending
and she just let go.
He lost his heart,
to this girl so special.
Ripping his soul apart.
Luckily it wasn't fatal.
Ending this poem,
with the worst part.
Seeing another victim.
Running with her heart.
Bullets and Scars Ch. 3Bullets and Scars Ch. 34 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
How many years had passed since then? Three years? Four? It had been almost four years since she left Earth and joined the Alliance military and now she was being rewarded with the Star of Terra for her efforts on Elysium. Though efforts was perhaps the wrong word. She hadn't done everything she could to save the human colony when it was attacked by pirates, slavers and batarian warlords. No. Avery rallied the civilians to defend their home and when the attackers broke through their defenses, she singlehandedly fought them off until backup arrived.
It had been almost four years and she was now viewed as a hero of humanity, being rewarded with the Star of Terra for 'courageous and distinguished service that is above and beyond the call of duty'. She singlehandedly fought of slavers and pirates and she was still afraid. Her heart was pounding hard inside her chest the entire ceremony for fear that she would find his face in the crowd. That this was all helping him find her again. That th
Deaths Diary (Entry 14)Deaths Diary (Entry 14)3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Yet another request has been made of me. I would like to thank you for these requests, they help me know exactly what it is that you humans want to know from me, so I don't feel like I am just writing away without reason. Today, I have been asked to discuss a man who I got to know very well. A man who brought me down on an entire race of people in the name of those three things that mankind strives for above all other things: Fame, Wealth, and Power. I am, of course, speaking of Hernán Cortés.
Before I talk about the madman himself, I would like to discuss a fact about humanity first. Cortés was not the first of his kind nor would he be the last. Mankind itself is very much like Cortés. Now, don't misunderstand me; Cortés was mad, of that there is no question. However, he suffered from mankind's greatest weakness: Lust for power, lust for fame, and lust for gold. Don't believe me? Let's put that to the test. I hold out a bag of gold gol
FFM XIV"Where is she?" he asked at the front desk of the hospital.FFM XIV3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The receptionist looked up, "Good afternoon doctor. She's recovering in room 312, though I would wait if you want to see her, she is probably asleep right now."
The doctor's face turned white, "So she did it?"
"Yes sir, the procedure was successful."
He nodded at the receptionist as he turned down the corridor. "Yes, thank you."
"It was my pleasure, sir," she said.
"Why do we say that?" he asked, spinning around.
"'It was my pleasure.' Why do we say that? We haven't felt pleasure in many years."
"I suppose it's just an old habit. I haven't given much thought to it really."
"Right," he said heading towards room 312.
The door was opened and the lights were all off when the doctor entered the room. He
walked over to her and looked down on her sleeping face. She looked different, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was though.
"Here, I will let in some sun. You always liked natural light," he said drawing the du
When Growing Up Becomes Growing OldShe thinks it hits at 35. She watches her husband blow out the candles on his birthday cake, the smoke tendrils hovering in the air before they are swallowed up by the fan in the window of their new home.When Growing Up Becomes Growing Old3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
By 35 you have settled down and started your family, and if you haven't, it's the year your mother begins to tell you that it's "now or never" and that if you chose the latter, you're going to regret it.
Their friends all sing an off-key version of Happy Birthday, holding long-stemmed glasses of red wine, except for Marie, since she's six months pregnant. She cuts her husband's cake into sizable pieces only to have three of the women decline as they are "watching their weight."
She looks down at the cake on her plate and thinks of the blank application for a gym membership on top of the refrigerator as her friends swap workout stories. She nods her head, gasping every so often and finishes it off with a lot of sympathetic grunting. The men have begun swapping work stories n
Being BraveSo you think you know meBeing Brave5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You think you've got me all figured out
But you don't know what it's like
To have all this insecurity and doubt.
So you want to know what's wrong
When tears are streaming down my face
You say you want to help me
But some scars you can't erase.
You plead for me to explain
As you squeeze my trembling hand
But I don't know what to say
That will make you understand.
These fears that haunt me daily
May seem small and dumb to you
But they control my mind
And there's nothing I can do.
You tell me to get over it
To step outside my cave
But you see, I cannot comprehend
This concept of being brave.
I'm Just Waiting for the RainHe keeps his umbrella close, but never opened. Storm clouds roll in and out of his life, but they never stop to even wet the ground.I'm Just Waiting for the Rain3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He wakes up every morning at 6:15, stays in bed for another five minutes, and takes a shower that lasts eight and a half minutes. He eats two slices of buttered toast and a small tumbler of orange juice. He dresses himself in a blue button-down with a striped tie and shines his shoes so that he can see his face. If it's cold out, he wears his black trench coat and if it isn't, he just wears his sport coat. He carries his briefcase every day, along with his umbrella. He can't forget his umbrella. The train leaves at 7:00 and he is at the station by 6:55. He hasn't missed a day of work in eight years.
His career isn't exactly what he hoped it would have been. If he were to think back on it, he would realize that it isn't even close. Thankfully, he never does.
At 7:45 he goes for his morning coffee runblack with two sugars. Provided the line isn't too
Karzan Zaraki -Bleach OC-Karzan Zaraki -Bleach OC-4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Name: Karzan Zaraki (First name pronounced CAR-ZEN)
Alias: The Massacre Fang
Age: 292 (Appears to be in his late 20's)
Rank: Primera Espada Second in Command Lord of the Deep
Description: 6 foot 4 inches tall, and jet black hair, Karzan might be described by some as having a "fatherly" appearance, were it not for the golden irises and slitted pupils of his eyes. His mask fragment is located at the back of his skull, underneath his hair, making it seems as if he does not have one. His canine teeth verge on being fangs, but most people do not even see him open his mouth.
His Hollow hole is on his chest, just below the neck line. He wears the classic Arrancar garb, only with a longer than normal coat, with the front open and collar upturned, over a white tank-top, and a teal colored obi holding up his pants rather than a black or white one.
Reiatsu Color: Teal
Personality/History: Since his initial promotion to Second in Command by Anubis, Karzan has taken w
MoonburntCarelessly,Moonburnt3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she sleeps with the window opened
and the nighttime's sun,
that isn't quite a star,
paints her face and neck
with a strange,
and deposits a burning desire
to absorb it all.
The BalloonShe hated him so much that she wanted to love him. She wanted to love him more than anything in her life. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and promise to keep him forever.The Balloon3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But they tell her to leave him. "We know his type," they say. "The minute you begin to care about him, he leaves you forever and you'll be left to pick up the pieces."
She knows that they're right. She holds him by a string while he's miles above her. She loathes him, but her heart races every time she thinks of letting go of the string. She closes her eyes and the minute she opens them, she has to frantically reach for him.
Purple shadows grow beneath her eyes and blisters form where she has him tied at her wrist.
"Let him go," they whisper as they try to loosen him from her arm.
She shuffles, sleepy-eyed through the park, dragging him along behind her. A woman runs up behind her and points to the string.
"He is absolutely lovely. You're very lucky to have him miss," the woman says.
She begins to remove him fro
Hell.I never believed in Hell,Hell.4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Until you came along.
You launched a dark demon down my spine,
leaving me breathless
as your breath is on my skin.
I linger for your cold touch
as your bruises cover your skin
like trophies of failures.
My veins feel hot,
too hot as my heart beats under my aching chest
as your gaze makes me feel like collapsing.
You've always made me feel weak.
The HarpThe Harp4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pluck any of my strings
till you find one
that sings to you -
something dark throated
like the jewelled thrush
upon my sill.
Ponder its strange weight,
the terrible beauty
of its voice;
the way it winds inside you
and pulls you close
like skin shuttering out
And then let it resonate
taut and tight
against your ears -
each note a raw hope
that hides tomorrow
and keeps you running
from the light.