In the SketchbooksI love in you the sketchbooksIn the Sketchbooks6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Before they praised you in the galleries
They see your aesthetics
Your one image
Your final performance
Your first impressions
I witnessed your growth
The troubles you've surpassed
Your layers of skins
A more vivid dimension than the last
Step by step
I was there
They talk about your name
The way you present yourself
They see you
Trapped in base molding
And guilded gold
I felt every brush stroke
The pencil lines
And every imperfection
Hidden in the redos
They see you
As a canvas
I see you
As a story
Simply repeating itself
Over and over again
For the eyes
Of these bypassers
Caged in prescheduled visits
And blank wallpaper
I make the windows
For you to sing in
You keep them occupied
As they query on your window sill
Because I felt
You to be here
Can't you appreciate
What I've done?
Building your panes
While I suffer with mine
Nowhere for me here
Time for me to move
To another canvas
To another p
Hidden Nightmare -AC II- C. 1SOMETHING SHOULD STAY HIDDEN FOREVERHidden Nightmare -AC II- C. 15 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
ASSASSIN'S CREED II
Spring had arrived in Venice, after a unusually cold winter. The streets were crowded with people, as always in the morning. It was perfect for an assassin to blend in, and avoid the guards. Making his way to his target, a new codex page. He had heard that it was suppose to be somewhere around here. Avoiding some patrolling guards who came around the corner, he continued unseen. He walked past a group of courtesans, who immediately smiled to him. The assassin smiled back at them, wanting to flirt some with them like he always did, but he had to find the codex page. Earlier this morning he had heard some guards talking about it, and according to them, it was a very important document, and they were waiting for someone to come and pick it up so that it could be translated. Ezio could not remember the name of the man who was going to pick it up, the only thing he knew what that he had to be there before him. He stopped, th
Archery.Gerard Way's just a bit violent. That's why he likes playing croquet. He imagines all those little balls are his classmates, and the wickets are rings of fire that smother his peers when they pass.Archery.4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
So, he doesn't miss the chance to sign up for the newest class their private school offersArchery.
He knows he won't be that good at it, but it'll be fun to think about shooting sharp arrows into targets or his classmates.
The only problem is that he doesn't want to sign up by himself. That'll just make him a weirdo.
So, after the final bell rings, he walks out his Biology classroom and heads over to his friend's locker, knowing he'll be stuck in there.
Gerard has to kick at the white piece of shit before it opens, and it reveals his short friend sitting at the bottom of it, his phone in his lap as he taps away. Gerard hears him munching, and he suspects it's the bag of chips he hadn't eaten at lunch.
Gerard lightly knocks on the locker door. His friend doesn't raise his head. "Frank,
Otherwise Good ConditionI have worn the same dressOtherwise Good Condition2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for four days, because
I am sick, exquisitely
black and gold, your drunk
dimestore Nefertiti. A
white stain announces
itself, a muddy star:
here. Undo yourself,
those sallow words you drink,
let the silk fall loose. I've got
a face like dirty laundry
and burial grounds --
What I touch becomes
unwell. I wear my hair
like it pains me,
like a little girl
sucking her teeth
at cars, the caked little
tombs of sugar that crumble,
under the hot milk
of the sun.
Expedition Letters to GraceDear Grace,Expedition Letters to Grace5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You told me, back when we were visiting Peru and I was feeling down, that I would eventually find my calling in life. I write to you now to tell you, quite happily, that I have.
I can't explain much about it at the moment, only that my sudden absence from the university is for a reason. As I write, I am currently en route to New York City, to visit their museums and get a taste of the culture. I told you before how I wanted to visit New York while I had the chance, and now I travel with purpose.
I will say now, that while what I am about to do may seem strange to you, even mad, I can promise you that I am of sound mind and am determined to see my ambition through. Never before have I felt so strongly about the rightness of my decision. I will explain more in time. All I can tell you now is that I am launching my own expedition, and that it will be unorthodox, to say the least. I write you because you are my oldest and dearest friend, and I feel I can trust you.
Give my best
we're all dying in the end.You better remember these words, I'll only ever say them oncewe're all dying in the end.7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I often wondered why the world seemed so dark even when the sun was showing itself against the bright blues of the sky. Maybe I found myself moving closer to the shadows than to the light. Maybe I just wanted to feel alone instead of alive. Maybe I just loved the dark.
You stopped playing with cookie-cutter hearts and instead made it your mission to put mine back together. Too bad my heart is like a game of Perfection. All the pieces have a specific place they have to go, and if you don't get them all in before time runs out, they fall back out again. You insisted you would figure it out somehow. I insisted that I'm the kind of puzzle that's near impossible to solve. There were just too many x's, and too many o's. Maybe I liked the idea of little pieces of my heart falling out to leave a trail I could follow later. Maybe I just liked games.
I never believed in magic, but I was all too quick to believe that dreams come
Canada x Reader - Memory Loss Ch. 1You could hear your own futile attempts to breath, every gasp made your chest hurt. You didn't know what happened at all, your mind was a fuss as if a static noise played through it endlessly. All you remembered was that something hit you, very hard. And the next thing you knew, you felt like this. You tried to breath once more, another thick sting of pain shot through your chest as you did.Canada x Reader - Memory Loss Ch. 14 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
But there was something you heard that cut through the noise in your head, a voice. Someone was calling you, it caused your eyes to snap open. There was a blur before your eyes, it slowly turned into a visible image of a young man. Your eyes quickly scanned the surroundings. Apparently you were lying on the middle of the streets, and a car had crashed into a wall a little further ahead. There was the sound of people talking rapidly and making attempts to figure out if the car's driver was alive. Some others were seemingly helping you with something, but what?
Only then did you realize that you were
3.14The boy sat on the edge of the wooden pier shivering as the ocean that once hugged him tightly dripped off his body in disgust, leaving only a thin layer of green sludge between his skin and the crisp air around him. The smell of dead fish rose out of the ocean grave and wrapped around him until his nose could no longer smell it at all. As the sun left the hazy blue sky, he watched the boisterous boats tread further into the ocean until they were eaten whole by the horizon. His stomach bubbled, gurgling as if to imitate a toddler drowning.3.143 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“You. Your shift’s been outta here for an hour,” a man, dressed in rubber rain clothes and black boots said. “We don’t pay ya to loiter after your deed is done.”
“You don’t pay me at all,” Pi mumbled, directing his eyes away from the murky green water and towards the man’s agitated eyes. “What? You don’t.”
“I pay ya plenty,” the man sneered, “for a rat-bo
a pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound.she doesn't understand the beautya pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that she's capable of. she can figment
the most beautiful picture and not
even try, her mind is a blank canvas
and her thoughts are like the medium.
swish and splash the red paint, blue,
oxidize me with your catatonic breath,
subtle pencil marks like the veins
that pattern your milky, flawed flesh.
hide behind your eraser shavings, you
always doubt yourself too much, you're
incapable of making a mistake, now.
sweetness, caress this empty sheet of
paper with your carefully chosen
words and help me heal the insulting
that had been caused from all injury.
take your pen and etch indelible phrases
into your aphoristic lifestyle, you
live by age-old techniques but you've
got a modern soul, i want you to wrap
me in your mosaic smiles again. keep
the crying coming, tears are the perfect
base for watercolors. you might be
paranoid but i should inform you that
i am okay. just as long as your sketches
continue to swarm me, encase me with
their warmness and light,
SEARCHING FOR A MOMENTThe eyes that speak a thousand wordsSEARCHING FOR A MOMENT2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gazing with the eloquence of serenity
Focused on none but seeing the all
Staring into each beating heart
The calm stillness of the moment
Like an endless unbroken wave
The cherished minutes flow by
All too quickly fading into memory
To sit and gaze one last time
A single glimpse of that poetry
Is it so much to ask?
Such has been the hardship
Now just a distant memory
The lonely hours wither away
Everything seems like nothing
This sad longing endures
Searching for that vision
The eyes that speak a thousand words
Info about Slovakia for APH OC makers - HISTORYI decided to make my own "for OC makers" series, as Hoples did it (link in description). But I will tell you about another country - SLOVAKIA.Info about Slovakia for APH OC makers - HISTORY4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
In this episode I will tell you something about our history. Let's start from the beginning.
This would be dated before ages of the Principality of Nitra (short Nitrava).
Though Slovakia as a country gained its independence only in 1993, the nation itself is much older. The most extreme theories range from 50 000 BC to 18th century, however I certainly do NOT recommend you to use these for your OC. The most probable date would be set a little before 5th century which is date when presence of Slavic tribes was confirmed on the territory of Slovakia for the first time in documents.
Slovaks and their ancestors were during history described under various names, including Slovák, Sloven, Sclavus, Tót, Uhor, Vend, Meheran and other. First two are how they call
oh my god I forgot to title this screw itI want to createoh my god I forgot to title this screw it3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
something so beautiful
I want to paint all the sweet morsels of life
with words on a page
life is something I do not have,
have not done
Tell me life is something
I WILL have done
by the time I'm gone
I'll be so busy waiting to get to the front of the line
this annoying line- school, college, work, waiting, waiting
that by the time I get there
the movie's sold out
it's a classic by now
and I have a comic gray beard
just like in the cartoons
but it's not funny because I'm going to die
having done nothing but wait
I can't create something from nothing
I can't paint the sweet morsels of life
I do not have,
have not done
England x Reader - Best Ways to ComfortEngland x Reader – Best Ways to ComfortEngland x Reader - Best Ways to Comfort3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Arthur jumped as he heard that shriek, followed almost immediately by a loud thump and a crash. He jumped up, flinging the book in his lap onto the floor and spilling his hot tea he had been taking a sip of into his lap in the process. The cup clattered to the floor as he leapt around in circles swearing for a moment, trying to distract himself from the burning. As soon it was slightly more bearable, Arthur ran towards where the sounds had been coming from.
His footsteps thumped on the wooden flooring of the old cabin as Arthur tore up the stairs and ran down the hallway, heading for the bedroom. He flung open the door to find (f/n) lying face down on the floor. Her torso was flat on the floor, while from the hips below she was on her side. Her hair flowed from her head in a messy and wavy pool, and her arms lay on the ground in positions that made her look like she was trying to claw tracks into the wood. For all Art
The best song about bunnies everHappy bunny flying all aroundThe best song about bunnies ever3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Happy bunny hopping on the ground
Happy bunny playing with his friends
Happy bunny never ever ends
Oh he's happy happy bunny
The happiest bunny in the hoppy world
Oh he's happy happy bunny
Happy bunny happy bunny happy bunny happy bunnyyy
Hungry bunny is playing with his friends
Hungry bunny likes to eat his friends
Hungry bunny gobbles up his friends
Chicken duck and Quaker's mother Hen
Oh he's hungy hungry bunny
The hungriest bunny in the hoppy world
Oh he's hungry hungry bunny
Hungry bunny hungry bunny hungry bunny hungry bunnyyy
Hungry bunny and happy bunny meet
Hungry bunny eats up Happy's feet
Happy bunny gobbles up his head
Happy bunny hops right straight to bed
And now he's sleepy sleepy bunny
The sleepiest bunny in the hoppy world
Oh he's sleepy sleepy bunny
Happpy bunny hungry bunny sleepy bunny lots of bunniiies
Lots of bunniiiiies~!
PERCEPTIONIn victory there is defeatPERCEPTION2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In joy there is sorrow
In perfection there is imperfection
In love there is hate
In wisdom there is stupidity
Everything is measured against the other
Within the confines of perception
Right becomes wrong
Dark becomes light
The limitless becomes limited
In the compounded vision
Reality gives birth to ignorance
Experience gives way to speculation
The known becomes unknown
In the great irony of things
The free become shackled
Truth becomes illusion
Such is the plight of the spirit.
The Raven By Edgar Allan PoeOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,The Raven By Edgar Allan Poe8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore --
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door --
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door --
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore --
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
The Re-Prettify ProjectBreathing in silver filamentsThe Re-Prettify Project1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
will not make you pretty on the inside.
You cannot polish and buff
lung or aorta
until it is shiny and new.
If you have filled your life with toxins
and allowed your eyes
to cloud over with coal dust
do not, my friend, do not
seek silver linings from anything
but penance and kindness.
Throwing gold-dust over your head
will not administer you a halo.
Puddle-jumpingShe looks through a puddle to the hole on the other side.Puddle-jumping2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Some dreams fell down there a while ago, and if she can just snag a little of the bright ribbon at their tails, perhaps she could follow them in there.
I mean, it looks quite nice, what with all the blue glowing back at her pigtails, and the
clouds seem quite friendly. I wonder if they know hide and seek?
So in she jumps, wellies and all, but somehow only manages a splash and a splutter, and a muddy pattern over her socks.
But it doesn't matter - there's always tomorrow. She'll try again then.
For it's sad, really, when others look into puddles and all they expect to see is the ground.
UnableEmily leapt out of the car as soon as it was stopped and her fidgety hands could undo the seat belt, she excitedly ran straight over the lush green verge and into the pebble-dashed sand. Falling to her knees she clamped her hands around fistfuls of the warm little stones and threw them, delighted, into the air. The beach! Emily loved the beach, she had loved it her whole life. It was her second favourite place to be (after her pillow fort with Jennie, her polar bear teddy).Unable2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Emily’s Dad scooped her up off of the sand and held her upside down, making her shriek with laughter. He scolded her for running off but she knew that he was as happy as she was to be back at the seaside, so she laughed until he put her down again for wriggling too much.
Right way up again Emily scampered up and down the golden sweep of beach front looking for the absolute perfect place to watch the tumbledown waves of water. Emily knew her
Renfield's ClockThe package had no label or return address. It was just left on my front porch, wrapped in layers and layers of packing tape and cardboard, square and slim, about a foot and half in length. It was heavy as I picked it up and rather than open it there on the front porch, I brought it inside, and sealed my doom.Renfield's Clock2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Inside, I found a clock. It was clearly old, the rim ornately decorated with motifs of vines, and while I was no expert the material was suspiciously reminiscent of gold. It had to be valuable. I was bewildered as to why I'd find such a thing left on my front porch. I turned it over, inspecting each side of it, and that was when the note that had been tacked to the back slipped off.
'To the person who receives this,' the note read, 'I don't know you and I'm really sorry, but I had to get rid of this. It's killed both my husband and children and now it wants me. I'm sorry.'
For a long moment, I just sat there, the note in my hands, s
People Don't ChangeYou said people don't changePeople Don't Change3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
But I'd prove it's not true
Because I would change
And do it for you
You said people don't change
And maybe that's true
Cause the one who's not changed
Surely is you
I think you left a piece of you in me.This tangled mess you call a heart,I think you left a piece of you in me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
daisy veins & sin;
She's bringing me down.
& you were merely shivering
pressing winter bones
against my sun-stricken mouth,
darkness searching for a home
buried in my lungs.
You whispered breathe me
lovely in the inhale/exhale
of carbon dioxide suicide.
She speaks only of you now,
lonely & mourning beats-
Crack open this damn ribcage;