La fruta del olvido -PARTE2-La fruta del olvido -PARTE2-3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"quedarme esta noche?" dijo Fionna, algo confundida, a lo que Marshall asintio de una forma casi misteriosa.luego de eso, se hizo a un lado, para que la joven entrara en la casa, y se fue a ponerse pantalones, ya que...no era muy galante el estar en calzones frente a una dama.
Fionna ingreso a la vivienda, con sumo temor...¿Marshall se habia vuelto loco? ¿a donde queria llegar esta vez? ¿esto era una broma?. "Fi!! sientate!! estas helada! porque se te ocurre salir a estas horas??" Marshall interrumpio los vagos pensamientos de Fionna, y con un tono protector le paso una cobija, para que se abrigara.
Fionna desvio su vista, hacia una plantita que habia en un rincon de la casa, era bastante rara...pero muy bonita. la plantita era de un verde obscuro, y tenia frutitas colgando de sus ramas, algunas eran rojas y otras negras.
"que es eso, Marshi??" pregunto la joven con curiosidad. Marshall se alarmo y se paro enfrente, bloqueando la vista; "que es que??" dijo nervioso; "ESO
speechlessYour name is Dave Strider, and for the first time in your life, you have been left utterly speechless.speechless2 years ago in Romance More Like This
It was just another shitty "day" on the meteor; perusing the corridors out of boredom, checking in periodically on Mayor and TZ, but otherwise just shambling about. They were fun and all, but two years of the same old shit got boring.
You had been making your way down into the meteor to ecto up some coffee (it tasted terrible, but it was something to do) when you took a wrong turn. It only took two hallways to figure this out, but before you could turn and track your way back, you heard something.
Soft though it was, it was a sound you would recognize from a mile away.
The sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Your hand rests at the hilt of your own sword as you send a quick glance around. It had been muffled, though; probably from one of the closed doors dappling the hall. You pause to listen and sure enough there's another sound bubbling up from the white noise.
From the pages of a book (Phan)My favourite place in the world is number 173 of Windsor Street, the small cranny between numbers 171 and 175, almost invisible to most passersby. It’s Collin’s book shop, a cavern of books both old and new, with battered old sofas and beanbags scattered around, bookshelves towering above you, soft orange lights to illuminate the room, a spirally staircase up to the second floor, the coffee machine and the smell of thousands of books mixed with the fresh coffee. On the well-stocked shelves you can find just about every book in existence, and if you can’t find it today then it’ll probably turn up next week.From the pages of a book (Phan)2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Beneath the ceiling, which is painted with sky scenes and various flying characters from books, is where you’re most likely to find me. The owner – Mr Arthur Collin – operates the shop like an almost library: you can borrow the books and then if you really like it then you can buy it. You also can bring in your own old books either to sell to
hivesoulthis society is sad; cankerous;hivesoul2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
filled with a kind of tragic beauty
we look out with our concrete grey eyes
to the emerald granite of the ocean and
feel a part of our soul lost and confused
a part of our soul reaching pale hands for the water,
the vicious salt-burn of life
trembling with this feeling, this
what-once-was feeling, nostalgia and déjà vu
swirling in the fluttering eddy of our blood –
this urge to slide into the woods and howl like a wolf, we’re
so confused because
we are still meat and bones and
electricty pulsing down our fibres
and we still bay and bare our claws and
rip at each other’s skin-clothes-hair in delight but
we’re so lost and our fingertips are cold
tapping at each other and our keyboards
with icicle joints snapping like bird bones and –
and we’ve forgotten and we can’t find the words and –
and why is this world so beautiful,
why does everyone hate so much?
(a forest leaning against a hill, crying
Not One BitPairing: PhanNot One Bit2 years ago in Drama More Like This
Warnings: um imlying self harm and depression
Disclaimer: I do not own Dan or Phil because that would be 1. impossible 2. illegal. This is fiction
“Hey, Dan?” I yelled from my bedroom, my voice croaky from not using it for the whole morning.
“What?” Dan replied in a similar tone and volume to mine.
“Can I use your laptop?”
“What? Come here Phil! I can’t hear you”
I huffed and got up off the bed where I had been lying for most of the morning. Then stretched, my hands nearly touching the ceiling. On my way out of the room, I grabbed the hoodie, that was draped haphazardly over my desk chair and slipped it on to cover up, since I was only in my boxers. Since I hadn’t gotten up the whole morning, my steps were heavy on the way to the lounge where Dan was. The door was open a crack, so i pushed it and heard it creak open. He was lying on the couch, in similar attire to me, watching some crap
The Marriage Conspiracy - Chapter OneChapter 1: Unexpected EngagementThe Marriage Conspiracy - Chapter One10 months ago in Romance More Like This
On May 2, 1998, the Final Battle of Hogwarts took place and resulted in the end of the Second Wizarding War and the death of the Dark Lord by the hand of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. The days that followed the battle was one of jubilant celebration. It was also followed by the passing of many international laws in the Wizarding world to prevent another war of it's kind from happening once more.
Sure, the politicians were well aware of the fact that war could strike again. They were human after all and Muggle history had shown that humans were quite good at coming up with reasons to war with one another. Why should wizards be any different? However, they were determined that there would never be a war that had its origins in one’s magical bloodlines again. It was for that reason that the Marriage-Bloodlines Act of 1998 was passed on June 13th.
The general gist of the Marriage-Bloodlines Act was simple and to the point. All single wizards
Portal 2 - ReflectionPortal 2 - Reflection2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sometimes it was the echo of her rage.
It came without warnings, splitting in half those long days of testing the days in which her Aperture, the Aperture she had been planning since her first moments, had finally trapped the whole lot of humans in its maze.
Her deadly calm would break, all of a sudden; and the hatred would burst in her cables, bringing back to life yells and tears of events long gone by then.
The worn faces staring at her from the test chambers became full, healthy and arrogant again; she saw them through the eyes of a offended woman, of a victim. Their bodies looked renewed and clean, back in space and time she was among them and protested, screamed, argued back from the bottom of her heart. She struggled to save her dignity, to save herself; but it was too late.
Always too late, forever too late. Too late to take back her silent consent, too late to prevent her desperation from exploding; too late to spare hundreds of people the fate they had suffered,
Unicorns and raccoons-PhanPhil was casually spinning around in a circle in the living room as usual, and then Dan walked in.Unicorns and raccoons-Phan2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"HI PHIL!" Dan exclaimed
"WHAT DAN!" Phil screamed
"RAINBOW UNICORNS!" Dan screamed back, and Phil promptly melted.
"MY LOVE!" Dan cried, and all of a sudden, Phil turned into a raccoon.
"THIS IS MY TRUE FORM" He shouted in darth vader's voice.
And then they had buttsex. It was glorious.
Saving Karkat pt. 2 - Kankri x ReaderYes. I had them. Everything I ever wanted was upon my head like the jewel it was.Saving Karkat pt. 2 - Kankri x Reader2 years ago in Romance More Like This
I had Kankri pants.
They were my Righteous Crown.
I felt fucking fabulous.
So why was I hiding in the closet of Kankri's hive? Easy, he'd take them back. I couldn't allow that, then I would be a queen with no crown. I bit back a laugh when I heard Kankri calling for me, he must have found my note. Using his own powers against him I wrote a note that said "Trigger warning: #Stolen leggings. Don't worry Kan, I checked my privilege". He was more than likely fuming- internally of course.
"(Y/n), please, d9 n9t 6e s9 difficult! I d9 n9t like walking ar9und with9ut pants! Trigger warning #partial nudity" That stopped my breathing. The prudish Kankri...exposing anything? Even though its not on purpose I thought he would have put on something...I gasped then covered my mouth. Too late.
The closet door was wrenched open, and there stood a sweater wearing boxer clad, ticked matesprit. "There y9u are (Y/n), ti
A Nerdy Love PoemBefore you arrived,A Nerdy Love Poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you annoying buffoon,
My life was more barren
than the sands of Dune.
And then you appeared,
Like a Doctor from space,
with your ridiculous clothes
and your comical face.
We're not like Edward and Bella
and their blather of fate:
We're like Sauron and Voldemort
deciding to date.
See, I'd travel to Mordor
with you any day.
We'd be like Frodo and Sam,
but a little less gay.
The Capitol couldn't stop us!
. . . that's totally a lie:
if we started rebellions
we'd probably die.
We'd feast in King's Landing
on lamprey and tarts
then murder our enemies
with thousands of farts
Our house words would NOT
be "stupid and fat"
though I like "moon of my life"
much better than "brat."
Whenever you're sweet
I think it's a fluke,
but if you were nice all the time
you wouldn't be Luke.
But I like you a lot,
even though you're a pain.
Like how Serenity's crew
still hasn't killed Jayne.
You give my life meaning,
you silly old man,
like the Joker needs Batman
for all of his plans.
188.8.131.52.122 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
my stomach is a hollow pit
my bones scrape against each other, fighting for space
my blood, hot-cold, stumbles through my arteries, tired of its endless duty
teeth to gums, hard to soft
have been gritted together so hard
my body, rough skin over a soft petal of fat
these sandpaper eyes
with my swamp throat
i swallow rocks and polluted air
to work their way through the tired blood
the shriveled esophagus
to my cavern stomach
is this my existence
plastic bag muscles
unwanted piece of hair, like a blessing
too short, it falls in my sandpaper eye
soon its dead cells will grow too sick of the scalp it resides on
it will fall to the ground, escaping the bruised skull that hates the brain inside
am i alive
the white light
i see it everywhere
like a dream i flutter down the hallway
are they here
humans like my dream characters
the game generated human you try to defeat,
but forget about twenty minutes later
humans like robots
i see them everywhere
Scales Of Life01010010 01001001 01010011 01000101 - We begin our quest on the scales of lifeScales Of Life1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I- The newborn wolf cub: The first emotion reflected in his tired eyes is that of mystery; a
curious devotion to the enigma of the moonbeams that cut through the trees, reflecting in
his inexperienced gaze. He calls out to the blinding light, beckons for its shadowed silence,
and eventually finds comfort in the embrace of mother's love. In that moment, he hears no
cruel sound his purity can't contest. He shuts
out the light as he slowly drifts away to rest. // Perfection was a value whose worth /
//was queried due to Perfection's birth./
a different explorationwe talk abouta different exploration2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
astrology and ex lovers. the raspberries
dying in the heat, the way the water
bit our skin, the homeless man set out
to buy California, the center of our universe,
you. that feeling labelled “blah,”
and the notion I am not my own.
we leak questions
like overrun rivers, excess spillage,
draining curiosities about that tragic skeleton
balled up beneath your clothes.
and for you,
I’d travel the length between heartbeats,
shallow and vain like your promises,
your liquid eyes.
above all, we were lucky.
miracle children. one in ten,
one in a million, a pair of stragglers
in seven billion exempt from
clarity and unclaimed skin.
I know this guy who had
sorry lips and scars down his spine
without a story. we didn’t have
a thing to say so we talked about
how the stars were our newest horizon,
the undefined, and how we’d escape to them
TnM - EllaEra un día completamente normal dentro de mi vida. La misma rutina de asistir a la preparatoria con la confianza de poder hacer de hoy algo especial. A diferencia de la mayoría de las estudiantes de mi edad, no tenía interés especial en las actividades que podrían considerarse "dentro del margen de normalidad", excepto, claro, por mi reciente (y único) talento en el teatro. No. A mí me gustaba inventar o mejor dicho, debía inventar. El aceite automotriz debía recorrer en mis venas en lugar de sangre al igual que mi padre. Aunque a estas alturas ya debería haberme rendido en ese aspecto.TnM - Ella2 years ago in Settings More Like This
Yo era una Flynn en todos los sentidos. Desde mi cabello rojizo en punta hasta la incansable energía que me impulsaba a continuar con mis metas y sacarlas adelante por muy desastrosos que fueran los resultados. Jamás rendirse. Esa la marca distintiva de nuestra familia, aún cuando mi madre, extrañamente, me ha comenzado a destacar otro aspecto que yo nunca había notado: la distracción.
Sí, la dis
Secret On My LeftIt's my bearer of pain,Secret On My Left2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My fear of the stars.
A sin that's committed
But pushed very far.
Far from our minds
Not clouding our wits.
But it's something that's clear;
Who could ignore slit wrists?
Yes it is true,
So woeful my crime.
If only I were paid-
Each scar made a dime.
Thankfully I would not be so rich
Only few here on my left.
Only a five or so made,
But not worth my regret.
I can't ignore them-
Those glimmering two.
Those two on the left
That are more than over-due.
The others have gone,
They've faded away.
But these two remain
Clear as the day.
Speaking of day
It makes them shine and contrast.
There's no way of forgetting
These of my past.
They're undoubtedly there
And I know they're faint to leave,
So I decide to stay silent;
I tug down a sleeve.
Then there are sleeves
Who magnified the rays
And had me pull up my sleeve
At that one baseball game.
I raised my arm
And a girl she saw
She'd seen what I'd done
And here was my flaw.
She was smarter then the rest,
No cat had those ma
Addressed to Jane Doesome nights I like to tear my veins out, individuallyAddressed to Jane Doe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like flower tendrils waiting to bloom and
string them up in the sun I never got to see;
violet memories, severe and sharp around the edges
like the day her eyes clouded over. blooming
purple, precious thing, nurtured by her inability to say no;
I wonder what she’d say when she saw the spaceships
steal the sky. she’d raise her bloodless palms
to the empty heavens and ask them to take her, too
(these nightmares are a self-diagnosed
expiration date, I wake to the sound
of your wildflower heart mourning my
goodbye. I still wince like there’s
a war being fought between my bones;
the history books won’t remember the way
death knelt and cleaned my canvas
skin, kissing my forehead before
abandoning me to lose in peace) dear
nameless, the numbers stamped on your wrist are not
an identity. on nights such as these, I swallow your voice
like a shot of whiskey and string myself out like you,
the porcelain savior, hollow,
What Could Possibly Go Wrong?It's always a bad idea to think before the first date, "What could possibly go wrong?" Because, as shared experiences have told you, it ends with it going so wrong you can't even look at the person once it's over. It goes so wrong, you can't help but wonder what you ever saw in the guy. But once you think it, you can't take it back as if you're placing some toy top hat on a kitten. You're stuck with it for the rest of the night, until you are finally blessed with their lack of company.What Could Possibly Go Wrong?3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Still, it feels all okay, at first. When he takes you to a restaurant, one you know really well, it's really hard to have dinner ruined. Especially when it's steak. And you don't care what people say, about how women shouldn't eat steak but a salad, because it's food, and you love food, and it's much more interesting than the conversations you're trying to start up with this guy. That's the sign that something's not right. That's the sign that you should cut it short, end on a somewhat high note.
House on my HeadI grew a house on my head.House on my Head3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I populated it with animals:
a mouse for a housekeeper,
a lizard in the kitchen cooking eggs,
a butler wolf whistling and saying 'sir',
a chinchilla to sweep rooms' corners,
a giraffe wiping windows,
a black Labrador pup to clear the chimneys.
The house is old fashioned but it runs to time.
A sloth winds the clocks;
a badger delves the vegetable patch.
Everyone gets on fabulously
and will eat eggs together at breakfast,
gossiping about the awful state of my head:
how the tubes in my brain need scrubbing out,
you can tell because the plumbing gurgles
and the lights in the attic flicker at unexpected hours.
The landlord, a snub-nosed monkey, is convinced
that nuggets of knowledge are lodged
in the mulch of my swampy mind.
He sends search parties of ants scurrying
down my ear holes, dredging the depths.
He thinks I'm a goldmine to be gutted.
I'm with the mouse. She says my taste isn't bad,
though for the carpets she wouldn't have gone with green;
and the journey
denial and uglier aftermathi drink to you, raising my glass anddenial and uglier aftermath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
choking down the things you left,
ignoring my gag reflex and waiting
on the buzzing in my head, white cotton
lullabies for the weak of heart.
it kills me that we are just a
collection of vignettes, that soon
i might see your blossom fingers
and bleeding sunset smile but
only as a memory gone static with neglect;
this summer, i became a rebel. a
martyr in a child’s game, a vagrant
with boxes of dead poetry to call
a home, and when i asked you to want me,
it’s only so you’d take the sanity and consciousness
with you when you left. i miss
the days when personality disorders
were not graceful.
do you even remember taking me to the moon?
you were so fucking tripped out on acid
and weed and love and other drugs
that you thought we were a portrait.
midnight blues and sober grays
breaking even for a story,
but every planet we landed on
was already dead.
and trust me, i know you wish life was
a one night stand, because you
on becoming alivethank god for sleeping pillson becoming alive2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the man who gave me a bag
to quiet my mind.
thank god for boys with open hands
and curious minds and naïve hearts
who make me young because
god, you birthed me old
you birthed me old,
so I could be the one to
measure the livelihood of stars
while the others made
their childhood wishes
thank god I have a mind
that runs a million miles faster
than I ever could, because
I believe my heart is an hourglass
of honey and grime, and
I’m slowly running out of
time, and I fear
these days are numbered.
thank god for people
who write the words bleeding in my heart
without knowing I exist, thank god
for beauty and my understanding
that I only exist in relation to it
and in appreciation of what
I can’t become.
thank god for my rebirth
because I spent all those
eye-opening years of my life
sleeping behind the wheel, thank god
someone was there to wake
me up. (thank god that I can
weep for happiness and depression
in the same day,
Potato Gems (A sarcastic story)Dan and Phil were at school, because this is an AU where they are high school students and high school students go to school, in case any of you dumb bitches didn’t know.Potato Gems (A sarcastic story)2 years ago in Humor More Like This
Dan and Phil were friends and they had crushes on each other but were too scared to admit, you know the story.
They were sitting in class, because they were in school, and when you’re in school you go to class as a general rule.
Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. The school bell rung, meaning the end to Dan and Phil’s misery, because for some reason every single class in every single fic is boring because no way in hell is there any fun classes with good teachers, god forbid. There has to be one person out there that enjoys class like I do, there are always the lessons that I dislike, sure, but every lesson? Really? Has no one ever had a really good teacher? Jesus Christ, what is wrong with the English school system that not one single person in fics ever enjoys going to school.
Anyway, I digressed,