Into the Dark:A Marshall Lee and Fionna Fanfic Ch1INTO THE DARK: A Marshall Lee and Fionna StoryInto the Dark:A Marshall Lee and Fionna Fanfic Ch11 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
CHAPTER ONE: BALANCE
Somewhere in the Land of Aaa, there exists a Dark Forest. Should you ever find yourself lost in those deep woods, there is a good chance you'd never find your way out. Now, it was never easy getting to that area in the first place, and the Keep Out and Danger signs should be enough to steer away any sane person. Even before that, you'd have to pass the Candy Kingdom (which would be a much nicer place to stay, don't you think?), the Grasslands (where you'd find a very radical treehouse, thankyouverymuch), and the Hole in the Center of the World (which wasn't REALLY bottomless, according to rumor). If none of those locations caught your attention, you'd find yourself in the eeriest forest outside of the Nightosphere.
Currently, there was a young human girl lost in the Dark Forest, shoving her way through the thick branches, crushing dead leaves beneath her black shoes, and grumbling because she was covered, head to toe,
let go, little bird--hope is the tired little bird at the bottom of your heart, the one whose tiny wings are broken and bleeding, the one that won't stop flapping uselessly at the sky, like it's going to take off, take off dammit, even when it's fading by the second and dying in a heap of feathers, and it breaks your heart to see the optimistic flame still sparkling in such innocent eyes.let go, little bird--3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm writing this to tell you that i don't know what i need. i'm writing this because i can't pull any fancy metaphors from the back of my throat to save my pride this time. i'm writing this to see the look on your face when you wake up and wonder why i keep running away.
hope is the thing with feathers, my broken baby bird. hope is the trust in those newborn eyes that makes you burst out sobbing although you never know why. it's the razor-sharp edge between happiness and pain, the line you try to fly on crippled wings, my little bird, just to save someone stronger from having to walk it for themselves.
LostLost2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If I had said something
Would they have stopped?
If I had called your name
Would you still be alive?
If I was stronger
Would you have leaned on me?
If I had answered differently
Would I have ever been correct?
If I had said hello
Would you have greeted back
If I had been less shy,
And said something when I had the
Would you have smiled?
Could I have eased your pain?
Or did I drive you off the edge?
For even just one moment
Did I brighten your day?
Did you ever believe that I cared?
Could you tell
Even over the distance my frightened
Could you hear my shouts before you
Did you see my tears?
If I had come a little sooner
If I had told you how I felt
If I had made them shut their mouths
If I had held you close
Would you have felt so empty?
If I had stood alone
On an edge to high to see
Would you have called my name?
Would you have come for me?
If I followed you
If I fell from the sky
Would this pain go away?
Would I see your face again?
Would you be
the song of a roamerAnd darling, I've been gone for a long, long time. Your eyesthe song of a roamer1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
are still that steely gunpowder blue, but your hair has grown long,
and there's a softer curve to your waist
and freckles on your shoulder I don't remember,
and I think,
What have I missed?
You tell me about the weddings
the divorces. You tell me
about the babies
and the losses, and how last year
your dog died--easy, in his sleep--
and there is a hollow lack in you,
a space reserved for things that won't come back.
Long ago, was there a space like that
When did it collapse--when did it
fold in on itself
under the weight of things that matter more?
I tell you about Cambodia. I paint
the jungles for you, breathe the crushing wet heat
of it into your lungs. I tell you
about the kids in Africa
and how the heat is different there--
belligerent and fierce.
I tell you how much you would have liked Barbados,
and how much you would have hated Rome.
And I remember all the things I
can't tell you--all the things I don't hav
sirensAudio version here.sirens1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes the mermaids will watch the sailorboys, and green ocean eyes will take in the powerful shoulders and the instinctive sense of balance, and sometimes one will fall in love. and sometimes this love will fill up her chest so much it hurts, and sometimes it will make her reckless--make her swim silently up to the sides of the boats and reach up (carefully, with just the barest sound of water droplets tumbling back into the depths) and rest her arms on the wood that's long since been worn smooth from salt and sun. and sometimes the sailorboy will turn, but he'll see nothing--but when he hauls in his net it will be brimming, straining at the seams, and he will look out over the ocean for a moment, all the way to the blank horizon, and sometimes he will wonder.
and it's easy to love the girls that swim up from the bottom of the ocean with nets knotted up in their
page onethe waves are calling.page one1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
watch--stormbound, the breakers
arch up to clutch at the unyielding stones
with a roar and a hiss and a sigh;
gather themselves back and
the sea is patient, and your limestone fear
you will be
you will be beautiful.
the waves are calling.
On my way homeBy Romy LaraOn my way home2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I exit the studio, sighing at the sight of the sun quietly hiding behind the trees and buildings. Turn to the right and keep walking. Cars are passing by, people in black suits get out from the nearest buildings; none of them care about their surroundings. I lift up my head and notice in big steel-letters the name of the company that owns that peculiar orange building in the corner of the street. It's the first time I see it. The sky is painted blue with some dabs of gray, just as if somehow the color of the concrete street had been absorbed by the clouds.
Behind me there's a couple discussing something about a house. She doesn't sound happy. And he's just getting mad. She shouts and speeds up, him trying to catch up with her, but it's futile. She is a very good runner despite her heels. The man glances at me. I toy with the white cable of my earphones and pretend I didn't hear anything. I pass him. He just stands there. I wonder what would he do now. But I have no time to
lovesong for sailorboyRead aloud and explained (somewhat) here.lovesong for sailorboy1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have always loved words as you love the sea
but i have grown to hate
because i have always had words
but never for you.
words for everything
but i have words for this, so
i'll take them
one by one.
the ocean was your first love and
i could always see it in your eyes.
most would call them blue--just
like a swell over a sandbar
blue like the spring sky over a poppy field.
but i don't think anyone
got as close as i did and they're not blue
not shorebound and
they're gray like the steelbellied sea itself
like the horizon at dawn as it
hems you into an impossibly vast canvas
like a demarcation line
or a promise.
one you always chased.
maybe i had a streak of ocea
I'm yours.Boy: I think I'm falling in love with you, baby girl.I'm yours.3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Girl: I've been waiting for you to say that for years.
Boy: and why is that?
Girl: Because I've always been yours.
PilkunnussijaHere's what I think:Pilkunnussija2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There's a certain joy in not doing this face-to-face. For one, I don't have to leave my apartment and I have the quiet company of my goldfish and my goldfish alone. (I don't like people, which is why I love books. You can understand that.) For another, I don't have to see your presumably crestfallen and injured attitude when I tear apart the prose you cried and bled and sweated over for weary nights on end. But really the best parts are those uninterrupted hours alone with your manuscript and the shred of you that lies inside. It's a small shred, but an important one. It's the one that tells me who you are and what you think and how you feel and I never have to look at you and be disappointed when the real thing doesn't come up to scratch. As I sit there, un-tensing and re-tensing and tense-shifting and shift-entering (and damn it, wishing English were like German so I could get rid of those clunky space-wasting n-dashes--oh, damn there they are again) I feel li
ghosts of the border townsRead aloud here.ghosts of the border towns1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the desertgirls all wear their white dresses,
braids cinched with ribbons wilted
like the crops.
they walk barefoot, and they have learned
how to keep from kicking up
the sand--they have learned
how to be perfectly still.
the scorchwinds start up, and they
stand beneath the rattling ocotillos,
dresses curling and brushing against
calves dark with dust and
they stare such betrayal, such trust,
as though you are the devil
or salvation--as though
they haven't made up their minds.
say what you like.
they won't smile, only
until long after you are out of sight
and the horizon has
ChloeChloe was born in the pouring rain and blinding dark, under a thunderstorm that cut power to five counties and lingered for days. Her first memories were damp and earthy and fresh--watercolor paintings of wildflower fields, thunderheads, and pale yellow dawns.Chloe1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She grew up with summers swimming in lurid heat and trembling cicada calls; in winters soft with snowfall and tree limbs upraised to the icy light. She was a tiny sun in herself, glowing effortlessly. Plants reached up to her, swayed with her voice. Given enough space and enough time, her hands could have delved into the earth and come back up trailing with trees and vines, with berries falling from her fingertips and thick pale roots curled around her wrists.
I met Chloe in the middle of one electric summer, when the heat was aggressively breathtaking and I had to continuously swipe sweat from my eyelashes. Chloe was a breath of undying spring--cool to the touch. She tasted like almonds and cinnamon and clean, wet dirt, and like
All She WantediAll She Wanted2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The nurse walked across the hall with caution. She saw the man pacing around in frustration and smiled at his worry.
"Congratulations sir." She said, catching him off guard. "You are now a father of a beautiful girl."
She handed him the tiny little frame wrapped in a white thick blanket. Words could not express the joy the man felt in just holding his daughter in his arms. Just then, she opened her eyes; showing a pair of huge hazel eyes.
The little four year old girl raced across the airport. She was excited because she'd never been out of the country before but more importantly she was going to meet her daddy for the first time. She never saw him before because when she was just a little baby his work had made him leave her. She searched the crowd when her mother finally pointed out to a man in a black suit standing quietly, smiling. She ran towards him.
The nine year old girl walked into the bookstore with a guard beside her. Fitted in a custom made white dress and a purse
Hetalia MemeName twelve of your favorite Axis Powers Hetalia characters in any order.Hetalia Meme4 years ago in Humor More Like This
1) N. italy
I love a whole lot more, but i just chose the ones that popped up in my mind first :'D
1) Have you read a five/ten fic before?
XDDDDDDD not at all
2) Do you think three is hot? How hot?
FFFFFFFF, of course! It's FRANCE for god sake! :'DDDD
even tho hes a pedo.......XDD only my long lost twin will get this :3
3) What would happen if six got one pregnant?
Germany got N. Itay pregnant?
LOL, SCORE! i honestly didnt plan that XDDDD
that would be so adorable!!! their baby would pawn all other babies and take over the world <3
4) Do you recall any good fics about nine?
pfft, about prussia? of course!
(well, it was actually a prussia/hungary fic, but it counts, right? ;w
5) Would seven and two make a good couple?
HOLYCOW IM ON A ROLL TONIGHT
Russian RouletteOh, darling...Russian Roulette2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How am I alive?
After what you put me through,
I'm surprised I didn't
Baby, love is a dangerous game,
and we played it like
The FountainThere were sixteen tall windows. She'd counted them over and over when she was small, her chubby finger outstretched as she spun in tiny circles. Eight walls, sixteen windows, thirty-two black curtainsthe arithmetic of her childhood.The Fountain2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Eight window seats, Daddy. Eight buttons on eachsixty-four. I counted."
The fountain stood dry and dead-center in the middle of the black and white tiles. Eight sides, eight lion-mouth spouts. Sixteen limestone mermaids poised gracefully around the edge. Four thousand and ninety-six blue tiles. Five hundred and twelve white.
And two doors. Always the two doors, huge and solid and radiating a sense of looming disdain. The rough oak had bitten her hands and it bit them now, when she pressed her palms against it. The doors eased open like wings outstretching, coming to rest against stone doorstops.
Her boots clicked against the marble flooring as she advanced, each click reverberating through the silent room. A mute ghost of a man stood in
Live by the CreedLive by the CreedLive by the Creed4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
To become an assassin you must be,
A loyal follower of these rules three.
Never harm the innocent,
No good could ever come of it,
Always be silent and discreet,
To make escapes swift and neat,
And finally never compromise the Brotherhood,
Or the fate of us all won't be good.
The Templars are all Assassins' foes,
Always causing the troubles and woes,
All Templar hearts are as black as coal,
As they clamber to achieve their single goal,
They forever strive to be,
The controllers of everything you see,
Use your blade to stab their backs,
And halt their plan right in its tracks.
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Dark Moon Girl WIPI remember the scars that crisscrossed your back.Dark Moon Girl WIP10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Your cerulean eyes, gazing into the starry night.
We had a strange kind of love. We never shared a bed, or embraced, or took vows. But nevertheless I loved you, and I think that in your own way you loved me.
You used to sing, but only when you thought no one was watching.
You never let me look at your scars for long, until the last day we spent together. At the time, I didn’t understand why you let me sketch you. You’d never bared yourself to me before, let alone to sketch you.
You were never really mine- but you did your best to share yourself with me. Why me, I’ll never know.
When I built the small pyre to send your body up to the heavens, I used the salt rocks you loved so much, the ones that could make the flames dance in any color.
Even though I was never one for religion, I took one of your silver bracelets to that small shrine at the top of the hill where we used to picnic. It was dusty and forgotten, but
Writers' BlockRoses are red,Writers' Block2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Violets are blue.
I have writers' block.
How to make Mitarashi dangoHow to make Mitarashi dango3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
200 g of rice flour
200 ml of hot water
100 ml water
2 1/2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp corn starch
1.) Mix the rice flour and water together.
2.) Knead till dough is as tough as your earlobe.
3.) Fill a pan with water and heat up.
4.) Rip off bite sized pieces of the dough and steam them for 25 minutes
5.) Throw the balls into a bowl and mush together with a wetted wooden spoon.
6.) Knead the dough
7.) Roll out dough into a long stick shape.
8.) With a wetted knife, cut bite sized pieces off.
9.) roll the pieces into balls.
10.) wet skewers and apply an even amount of dumplings to each.
11.) pour sauce over dumplings and enjoy.
1.) Mix all the ingredients in a sauce pan.
2.) Simmer till thickened.
3.) Pour over dangos.