MonstersWhite turns to pink,Monsters3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pink flows to red,
White peeks from underneath
Buried in the white
Is a river of purple
At a glance the line
Looks like a bruise
Under my flesh
But I know what it is
A pathway, living under my skin
Feeding oxygen to my fingertips
Breathe in, breathe out
I close my eyes
Imagine life different
See a smiling face
Dancing in rays of sun
A smile forms on my lips
It lingers for a moment
But it is a lie
So I give it up
Here alone, on my own,
No prying eyes,
I don't have to fake it.
Letting the red flow
It drips of my fingertips
They're getting less oxygen now.
I walk to the mirror
Looking in my eyes
I see the truth
I don't know what's in there.
Swallowing LiesIt slides down my throatSwallowing Lies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like silver mercury
Lies are easily swallowed
Now that I can stomach them
But they won't be inside for long
In a few minutes, they'll be flushed away
Comes up almost as easy as it slides down
I'll swallow the lies
But they won't eat me alive anymore
Rain, RainRain, rainRain, Rain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's come to play
Will you please stay?
And wash my troubles away
Rinse the blood away from the wounds of today
And ease the pian of tomorrow
Behind These Crystal EyesQuickly! Before he gets mad!Behind These Crystal Eyes3 years ago in Drama More Like This
He quickly poured the tea from the pot into the china cup, careful not to spill not even one tiny drop. Setting the now full teacup on the tray along with the pot, he picked it up and began his journey to the sitting room.
'Okay, only a few more days....Then the real England will be back' he thought cheerfully, walking quickly through the halls. All too soon, he reached his destination.
Entering the room, he was fast to place the tray onto the sitting table.
" Here you go sir....." he said, bowing in respect. Britannia simply nodded his head as he picked up the teacup. Placing it to his lips, his eyes widened in anger as the liquid reached his mouth. Slamming the cup down, he glared at the young colony.
" THIS IS NOT EARL GREY!!!" he snapped. The child paled, knowing what was going to follow.
Britannia had no sooner reached for the whip at his side, when young America sped out of the room.
Thanking god that house was so big, the child sped through the ha
Super hero-villain CreatorThis is one way you can create a hero, villain, or sidekick. A freeware system I created, you can use it if you want; you can skip a step, do them in whatever order you please, or completely ignore it: knock yourself out.Super hero-villain Creator6 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Step 1: An idea
Think a general idea for your superhero/villain: it could be an alter ego, power, just anywhere you can start from, and build the hero around this core idea.
Step 2: Origins
How did your person become a hero/villain/sidekick? was she/he born with special powers? Did he/she get them in later life? Or is he/she simply a regular person who decided to do some good/evil?
Whether there are super powers or no, how did this person make the decision to be good or evil? What caused him/her to change?
Step 3: Alter ego
You can ignore this step if you want; not all superheroes/villains have an alter ego.
Your alter ego depends a great deal on how you became a superhero/villain: Superman was born irregular, so he had to make a new identity, but Pete Parker and Bru
Ignorance is BlissWhy speak of words that will trouble the souls of whom I love dearly?Ignorance is Bliss1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Perhaps some words are better unsaid
I hear the devils in my mind tossing those words around and slamming them in to my skull as if they're made of steal than just fragile harmless letters
It's such a mystery to me that there isn't even a crack in place .
When it actually feels like every bone within me is shattered
Oh those words.. To keep them all locked inside is slowly breaking me apart
I want to scream on top of my lungs
Yell at this cursed life that has chosen me to suffer
Have I done something wrong to deserve this torment?
How can I redeem myself?
Or have I already been sentenced to suffer forever alone?
Great wonderful amazing things perhaps only happen once in a life time
I feel like I'm warped in pleasure for not having to believe in that fairytale anymore
Yet it kills me everyday not to believe in such a thing
As more time goes by the more dead I become
Speak out loud, raise ur voice, and will be here to
To Be An Artist1: "Look at these paintings. They're just awful."To Be An Artist6 years ago in Emotional More Like This
2: "That's their vision as an artist. Don't hate, my friend."
1: "Oh I know about being an artist. I know how to draw."
2: "Being able to draw doesn't make you an artist."
2: "You gotta feel it.
You gotta taste it, know it, eat it, breathe it, see it, LIVE it.
You gotta shudder as the colors pour from your veins.
You gotta scrape at the canvas just to understand your vision.
You can't eat - you gotta STARVE!
You gotta lose a loaf of bread for some tubes of paint and fall asleep at your canvas still dressed in yo paint splattered apron.
You gotta get F's because you were too busy daydreaming about what your next project will be.
You gotta get writer's block.
You gotta get artist's block.
You gotta get blocks of your blocks then get blocked some more.
You gotta get drained of inspiration for years then explode with something amazing.
You gotta scramble to the nearest object just to put it down somewhere.
You gotta spray, shake,
Writing Tips - Once Upon a TimeWithout exception, the most important line in your fiction prose is the first one. In many times it determines whether or not your writing gets a chance at all. As such, it should be the last new thing that you write. Once you finish writing your entire novel, then you go back and add the appropriate first sentence. Not only does this help you avoid Blank Page Syndrome, but doing it after everything else allows you to create a very poignant opening line (although you can start out with a proto-first line). Everything else I am going to tell you today, every piece of advice, can and has been broken in the past. Writing opening lines is an art, not a science. And let's start with one that I am currently trying to fixWriting Tips - Once Upon a Time5 months ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Never start out with "my name is"
The most famous rule breaker: Moby Dick. Let me tell you why this is a bad idea. It's really easy to explain, actually. "My name is Jim." I don't care. "You can call me Sarah." I don't care. "They call me Boogalogadoodoo." I don't fuc
Chitty Chitty Pow PowDoctor Who/Chitty Chitty Bang Bang CrossoverChitty Chitty Pow Pow3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The Tardis isn't the only temperamental machine the Doctor has to deal with...
"Chitty, Chitty, Pow! Pow!"
The car backfired with irritated emphasis.
"Listen!" the Doctor said, hands on his hips as he glared at the car. "I am accustomed to temperamental machinery, but that's just rude!"
The car flared its wings at him. It was an old 1880s roadster with a barrel-shaped engine cover, wood siding, runner boards and old-fashioned arc lamps.
It also had a lot of attitude.
The Doctor adjusted his bowtie, offended. He brandished the sonic screwdriver at it, berating. "I don't care what other Time Lord has been working on you, I promised I'd have you up and running by Saturday, and I intend to keep that promise."
The engine growled irritably under its hood, various accessories flashing at him.
"Yes, I know the sonic tickles," the Doctor said consolingly, "but if we want to fix you we haven't got any choice."
The radiator hissed a sigh at him,
The Bipolar FogDrowning in the crowded mess inside my skullThe Bipolar Fog1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Can't seem to pass the fog that has taken a grip in every piece of my brain
The room of reason and logic is locked away
And the room for mistakes and recklessness is a wide welcoming door
Ottumwa ShamanIn Iowa, weeping willows dream ofOttumwa Shaman5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tigers, born in pagan fog, their
Coat of stripes singing shaman
Songs; shrill symphonies of grief.
Heaven tilts, crashes, and we race
The dirt to get away. We drink the
Earth with bullets of air and grow
Dizzy, light-headed from breathing
Some far off flame. Perhaps a poet
Who braved the fog of Ottumwa, and
Caught fire. Every cowboy has his
Six chances before high noon, before
The fog forms wispy jackals to take
Them home again. Every son inherits
An empty gun, six voids to fill with
Answers, skimmed and guessed from the
Covers of books their fathers used
To read. There is no other way.
In sleeping, I have been to Iowa,
And I learned where wiccans go
To make their bed. I do not know now
If I had dreamed the weeping willow,
Or if it had bent low to dream of me.
In Iowa, there is no such truth, only
Depth, and the shaman's song of grief.
SwitzerlandxReader Christmas (request)You hummed to yourself as you hung Christmas ornaments on the Christmas tree with lily. You were celebrating Christmas with Lily and Vash this year. You hear a gun shot outside. Then you hear a familiar laugh in the house.SwitzerlandxReader Christmas (request)4 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Keseses so this is where Vash is hiding my frau"
You see Gilbert hug lily
"How are you Gilbert?" asks lily happily hugging him back.
"I'm awesome and you?" asks Gilbert.
"I'm good" says lily.
Prussia looks over to you and smiles.
"What is up __________?" he asks
"Nothing, you?" you reply.
"Nothing much" he says
You hear a gun being reloaded behind you.
"Let go of my sister Gilbert!" you hear Vash say.
"I don't wanna" says Gilbert hugging Lily closer to him.
Vash's frown deepened as he raised his gun at Gilbert.
"Brother, there is not shooting in the house. And why can't Gilbert visit me? He is my
boyfriend after all" says Lily.
"He is a bad man lily. I won't let a guy like him destroy your innocence." says Vash.
"A bit late for that brother" says lily.
DW: Three MinutesYou can do many things in three minutes. You can listen to a song, full of messages of love and hate, heartbreak and happiness. You can say 'I do' to the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life. You can make a cup of tea you will enjoy, while reading your favourite book.DW: Three Minutes3 years ago in Romance More Like This
You can also fall in love all over again.
She fell in love again as he held her when she cried. Cried for the loss of her Doctor. The way he held her, the scent of him, so similar to the other him. His hair, his eyes, his smile, it was all him. In his arms she felt safe, she felt like this was where she belonged. She felt loved.
He had whispered those words in her ear. Those words she had been longing to hear since the day he had vanished from her life on this beach.
She clung to him, feeling his single heartbeat. He whispered words of comfort in her ear.
"I'm here. I'm here and I will never, ever leave you. I promise."
He repeated those words, and his voice made a shiver run down her spine, mad
what we call war_cI have devil's water running through my coal-veins. Every morning, I get up and touch the mirror just so that I can fall into the reflection. Every change branded into the underside of my skin so that I can see their bitter stones sinking slowly through the uncharted rivers of my body. I am a façade. I am a lie. I have swallowed hearts and slung love at walls of destruction just to watch the plumes of smoke rise up the city atmosphere. I have watched my crumbling capillaries tie together into hangman's knots, my lips dyed red with lover and enemy alike. I worry with every bloodied swallow, with every collapsing groan - oh lover, I worry you are next.what we call war_c4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
If I were anything but ash and molten hopes I would worry too. But I have lost myself in the cracks between desperation and shame, and now I find myself drowning, pouring out your devil's cup into my wanting throat. Scalding my teeth, numbing my tongue, twisting my spine until the heat of it breaks me down, and knocks me out. I
The Seven Heavens - PrologueThe Seven Heavens - Prologue6 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"And now, the weather forecast, with Seth Ambers."
The next-generation television showed the image of a good-looking man dressing a fine suit. He had a friendly look, and stood in front of a map of Germany adorned with pictures of suns and clouds. The young Justin, after a tiresome evening, nibbled a delicious toast made by his mother while looking in the direction of the weather forecast man. His mind, however, was far away from there.
Justin was a typical 16-year-old boy that lived in Germany's countryside, in the state of Brandenburg. He took an hour and thirty minutes to go to school and another hour and thirty minutes to return home for lunch. After eating, he helped his parents both with the farm and the household chores. Although he belonged to a substantially rich family, his parents always cherished the personal efforts of their sons. They never spared their children from farm work, which was their main source of income. They were owners
Dear DoctorDear DoctorDear Doctor4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I didn't get my Hogwarts letter
I didn't compete in the Hunger Games
I wasn't in the battle for Middle Earth
I didn't meet my time traveling Henry
I didn't find Graverobber in the graveyard
Sylar didn't come for my brain
I didn't find a Death Note
I wasn't born in Gotham
My dad didn't go on a hunting trip
I didn't meet a consulting detective
I couldn't join Loki's army
I didn't kill Zombies
I didn't get my ticket to The Devils Carnival
I didn't become a killjoy
Mother War didn't take me to the Black Parade
Freddy wasn't in my nightmares
Hannibal didnt invite me to dinner
Im not Divergent
Dwarfs didnt show up for an unexpected journey
I didn't get trapped in Storybrooke
So I'm asking you to come pick me up in the Tardis
I only want something exciting to happen in my life
Hope to see you soon
The bird collector.She still sits on rooftops,The bird collector.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and dreams about flying.
Just like the bird her dad
gave her when she was eight.
Then her dad flew away,
and she pretended she
did not notice.
Sometimes she wishes
she could be death-daring
skinny all over again.
She liked to dance,
it sometimes felt like flying.
So she'd make her fingers
dance on her torso, over
the cage inside her chest.
This cage held a bird,
which never learned to sing.
A bird that only hit the walls
inside her, making a pounding sound,
desperate for the freedom
she'd love to have.
skinny meant light.
And light enough to fly
(just like a bird)
is what she was going for.
And like she was too cold
to own a heart,
she'd collect birds
inside her ribcage.
Stealing their freedom.
Inexhaustible.Sometimes, I long for the breath of sorrow that once guided me.Inexhaustible.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
No longer is the twisting wind and the gnashing teeth of mourning cries guiding my fingers to my pen and my heart to the beat. No longer does my spine twist at dusk tying upon itself as my hands press against the small of my back, pushing my pelvis forward as I arch back, back, back into the great beyond of darkness and light. No longer is my sleep punctuated with awakeness and my days punctuated with sleep. I no longer am curled into the shadow of myself and plucking words from heartstrings that have long since bled dry.
Still, on nights where the moon is hollowed against the backdrop of the sky (nights where the sky is poised like a dagger upon the earth) I hunger for the sorrow that one drove me forward. I hunger for the aching and twisting pain that had pricked my heels until they bled into the cracks and calluses the never-ending fear of myself and the never-ending thirst for tomorrow. I thirst for the n
Sadstuck: PBnJ || Just a DreamHe smiled, and you smiled back - the grin on your face only growing as he leaned forward and pressed a warm, slippery kiss to the bump of your nose.Sadstuck: PBnJ || Just a Dream4 years ago in Romance More Like This
A slight, rust-coloured blush lit your cheeks up as he silently chuckled and pulled away; the comforting feeling of his arm pressing against your back and snaking its way around your waist allowing you to exhale with ease.
You'd been waiting for this moment for a while. Ever since you met him, you'd been nice, hoping that someday... someday this would happen.
Flushed at first sight, you supposed some of the other inhabitants of Alternia would call it - just as you also supposed that they were, in fact, right.
That goofy grin and half-lidded expression he glanced at you with, the way his abnormal facepaint would glow with sweat beads after making some of his disgustingly-adorable sopor slime pies.
Everything about him just seemed all too perfect for you.
...But you knew that this was a dream, and that nothing you ever did could ev
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
Conlanging: A How-ToAre you the sort of person who looks at Elvish script and realizes with excitement that those gorgeous squiggles actually mean something? When watching Avatar, did you find yourself trying to work out certain Na’vi words? Have you ever wished you could make up your own language, whether as something to share with your friends when you were young, or else a deeper element to flesh out your personal universe? If so, you’re damn weird. But you’re also lucky, because this article for the layman is going to make your linguistic dreams a reality.Conlanging: A How-To3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
We’re going to talk about language. More specifically, we’re going to talk about what happens when we take language apart into its little recognizable pieces, because it’s from these pieces of real, natural languages that we build our constructed languages, or conlangs. Essentially, you’re going to get a crash-cours
Tick Tock, Goes the Clock LyricsTick Tock, Goes the clock, and what then shall we play?Tick Tock, Goes the Clock Lyrics4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, now summer's gone away?
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, and what then shall we see?
Tick Tock, Until the day that thou shalt marry me.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, and all the years they fly.
Tick Tock, And all too soon, you and I must die.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, We laughed at fate and mourned her.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, even for the Doctor.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, he cradled and he rocked her.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, 'Til River kills the Doctor.
Doctor, Brave and good, He turned away from violence,
When he understood the falling of the Silence.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, He gave all he could give her.
Tick Tock, Goes the clock, Now prison waits for River.
winter heart.maybe it's the weather. maybe it's the steam in the morning and the fog in my lungs that brings these words to life. i can feel them stirring under my breath like a second life; i can taste them in the december air that teases nostalgia from the pitter patter of my winter heart.winter heart.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's like life is a faded photograph. its like time is a frozen lake. it's like i'm sitting on porches wearing oversized sweaters and holding cups that burn the tips of my numb fingertips. it's like i'm in a forest and it's damp. it's dark. it tastes like a memory and the rain looks the way it did two years ago when i was broken. it's like remembering something perfect in a moment that was anything but; like holding something just out of reach in the palm of my hand.
ten months and three days ago: i'm in a coffee shop with frost on the sidewalk. it is quiet and loud and i have the feeling that i really am all alone. but it isn't bad. it is peaceful. it is soft and my bruised heart breathes deep. i exhale. it is