Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
Go Fish is Boring with Two PeopleGo Fish is Boring with Two People3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Your eyes are really pretty," said Ichigo for maybe the third time in the past hour. It was summertime. The sun warmed the air. Dust motes floated along lazily within its rays filtering through the open window. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Ichigo's room playing Go Fish. It kind of sucked with just two people though. Such was life in the 'real world'. "Nine."
"Go Fish," said Grimmjow. "Stop going on about my eyes." Ichigo was getting on his nerves again. He hated when the kid tried to be all couple-y and romantic. A couple was the very last thing they were. "It doesn't matter how they look as long as they work long enough to see you die by the edge of my blade. Six."
"Go Fish. They're kind of like those dogs... you know the big fluffy ones with the snow. Huskies! Huskies have crazy pretty blue eyes too.
My Gift to YouMy Gift to YouMy Gift to You3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Worst birthday, thus far. Ichigo found himself sitting idly in his squad car sulking. He didn't even have the radio on in case dispatch dared page him for something. He didn't care if the Japanese government was about to be guillotined and he was the closest officer able to do anything, he refused to turn the radio on.
Today was Ichigo's birthday. He had requested the day off and his boss found it graciously inside of himself to give it to the orange haired man. But then this morning some wise ass thought it would be funny to hold up a drugstore for all its worth, then some noble police officer had to take a damn bullet. So after invading his father the whole morning, Ichigo was called into work because they were now short on officers.
So here Ichigo sat, ready to really crack down on the next person who he spotted speeding on this purposely chosen empty back road. Ichigo had the speedometer hanging leisurely out the window in his less then secure hand really not expecti
BlindfoldedElliot sighed. "Bored!" He groaned to himself. It was a rainy day and there was positively nothing to do. Nothing! Study for tomorrow's test was the only thing he could think to do, but he was going to put that off as long as possible.Blindfolded2 years ago in Romance More Like This
The Nightray heaved another rather large sigh, flopping onto his back on the couch he was sat on and shutting his eyes. 'I could just sleep off the boredom.' He thought. Deciding this was the best idea he'd had in hours, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep.
Just as he had almost dozed off, the pleasant sound of music drifted into Elliot's ears. Curious, the noble got up and followed the sound. His ears led him to the school's music room. He smiled slightly and opened the door. He could see his best friend and valet, Leo, sat at the large grand piano, playing away. Elliot shut the large door of the music room behind him and walked closer to the noirette playing piano. Upon closer inspection, Elliot could see that Leo was playing perfectly...while b
generosityHello, love.generosity4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
(Voice like velveteyes so bright
By what name goes this faery knight?)
She can't think of anything but inane rhymespoems from someone else's childhood.
Such a cold greeting, precious. Won't you at least say hello?
It really is cold, she hadn't noticedthere's the white-hot glare of snow and ice all around them. Or perhaps the ice is only in his eyes; she can't tell anymore. Nonetheless she shivers.
He's unperturbed as usual, devastatingly composedoblivious, she supposes, to the biting cold. The wind whips up the worn edges of his white cloak, gives him wings for just a moment. An owl, perhaps, but a moth-eaten one.
She almost pities him, but of course that's not right. She's the one kneeling before him in the snowdid she fall? she can't remember. It's not fair, she thinks, but the words are frozen to her tongue.
(a lovely lady rode him fair beside
upon a horse more white than snow
yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Abel's Law: Part II wish I owned Trinity Blood. Need I say more?Abel's Law: Part I8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Abel: Why do I get a feeling this story won't be good for me?
Me: Because it isn't. Now, get to telling our dear readers what will happen in this episode, kthx.
Abel: (sigh) Fine. (brings out script) "Abel gets sugar-high for the first time, and might be his last after this experience. What will happen when --" WHAAT??!
Me: Oi veh...gimme that! (yanks script from him) "--when he learns the TRUE meaning of embarrassment? Read and find out!"
Abel: O.o I feel so violated...(sucks thumb)
A certain silver-haired priest gave out a unecessary giggle as he walked down the hall towards Catherina's office, trying to hide the fact he was undeniably happy for some odd reason. Earlier that day, he had over TWELVE cups of tea (not to mention the amount of sugar...X_X). Well, he stole five cups from Father Wordsworth...but hey, a guy has to get his ice, ya know what I mean? Heh.
Still giggling uncontrollably, the priest
Bad HabitBad Habit10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Biting keeps your words at bay
tending to the sores that stay
happiness is just a gash away
"Eleanor! Get out here!" my mom groans out from the living room. Wow, she's still sober enough to talk. Suprising. She usually isn't by this time of night. Maybe she's improving? Hah. As if. Besides, like I can go out with my arm dripping in blood? I laugh at the thought, reaching to grab the peroxide, wiping up the wounds. Must keep my messes secret. Must keep my happiness secret. They might take it away. Like Paige tried to…For a second I thought she might be right about therapy being helpful. Hah .I can't believe I actually listened to Paige.
When I open a familiar scar
pain goes shooting like a star
comfort hasn't failed to follow so far.
No, what helps is this. Taking my beautiful razor from it's hiding place (the bottom of my underwear drawer, wrapped up in tissue) and slashing it across my skin a few times, waiting for the blood to spurt up. It's the only thing th
FragilityBroken spirits are like refracted light; shards of many colors that run the spectrum of fragility. Though immortal, they still feel human emotions: fear, anger, love, grief, frustration, pride, regret, despair, and hope, disappointment… hurt.Fragility2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
More colors than what the human eye can possibly see.
Though his own faults shade him from the fact that they are, in fact, spirits in every sense of the word, Jack Frost will be the first to agree that he is very much broken. It's the fact that he still keeps on trying that keeps him sane.
There was a time when he was younger, a brand-new spirit. Confused, fun-loving and ultimately, naïve; a time when he would have denied and truly have believed with every fiber in his body, that there was nothing wrong with him. Bruised, bent out of shape, a little lonely, but never broken.
Broken was for mortals who could afford to whine and be scared, truly frightened; certainly not one, Jack Frost. Certainly it wasn't him that was feeling this ach
Hot MessI stared at the screen as hungry ravage vampires tore people to limps, absorbing the thick hot liquid pumping from there bodies. Most of the people here ran out, not being able to bare such a sight. I simply sighed and waited for this boring film to draw to an end. I had much better things to do rather than this. I could be perfecting a dueling device, or create the ultimate tournament. But instead I was sitting in the back of an over designed movie theatre with Joey.Hot Mess5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Why did that make it all the more exciting?
Joey snuggled up against my arm, trying to hide from the grey skinned fiends on the forty feet screen over us. I chuckled under my breath as he peeked out, seeing if the worst was over. Bam. A bloody head was thrown across the field in the movie. Joey's face was as white as a sheet of paper. "Alright were out of here!" Joey announced in his cute little Brooklyn accent. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. This sudden jolt caused him to fall onto my lap, his a
Something Only Francesco Sees: Chapter 1Cars 2Something Only Francesco Sees: Chapter 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
At 0315 hours Central European Summer Time, in an "abandoned" warehouse not far from the Élorn River, all Shell broke loose.
While the dim lighting and the maze of shipping containers had helped the secret agents remain undetected for almost an hour, there was only so long the partners could hide and observe when their mission was to free a hostage. Even against such amateurs - cheap amateurs, who should have coordinated a better security system than simple carpower - it would have taken a much lower IQ than required to even put together a ransom message to not keep the prisoner well guarded. Sure enough, alarms started blaring and red light filled the building when a guard spotted the infamous Holley Shiftwell.
It had been about two years since Holley was reassigned from C.H.R.O.M.E.'s technical department to the field at the request of none less than the British Intelligence's finest agent, b
Sherlock's Shadowy Past - p 9 (Final)It took Gregory Lestrade a long time to realized that he had been on duty that night. Hell, he had been at the crime scene. When they found the charred body.Sherlock's Shadowy Past - p 9 (Final)3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Sherlock was gone by then. Long since carted off by an ambulance. He had been caught up in the blast, but nothing like her. Of course the name Sherlock Holmes meant nothing to Lestrade at the time. Violet Hunter meant even less.
It was six years before the detective would, in a dark questioning room, connect the case with his subsequent friend.
At the time, the whole thing just seemed to be another night on the job, albeit a rather brutal one.
"I'm going back to the car."
"Are you sure? This just got interesting, look at these blood splatters, it looks like they hit an artery!"
"I am not sticking around to find a dead body Sherlock. If you need me, I'll be in the car."
Sherlock looked a little put out, but he was too caught up in the game, in the chase to give her desertion too much thought. So he did
WatchingHe is very active for a man who was supposed to be dead. In fact, he is, without a doubt, the most active dead person, except from Irene Adler. They text each other a couple of times, sharing their 'Everybody Thinks I'm Dead' stories.Watching3 years ago in Drama More Like This
He got bored very quick. He hated being stuck in the small room, and after the first time he had shot at the walls, Molly had taken the gun and thrown it away. He didn't have any cigarettes and he couldn't update his blog. All of his favourite activities had been taken away from him. Which was why he started pacing the floor often.
Finally, after three months, he got to go outside. He walked around in the shadows of London, letting the Homeless Network know he was still there. Not many of them seemed surprised. He asked them to bring him news of anything suspicious, especially around Baker Street. He still wasn't that Moriarty was truly gone, and if he was right, he would make sure that he would not get to John or Mrs. Hudson.
After six months
Self Inflicted Wounds 1Self-Inflicted WoundsSelf Inflicted Wounds 14 years ago in Romance More Like This
Chapter 1: Birth Right
The princess stood on the terrace, her piercing blue eyes examining the sweeping landscape of Ginoukoku. Many people said that this country was the most beautiful of them all. But now as she looked out at the endless expanse of rolling hills, the breath taking mountain scene off in the distance, and the crashing waves on the far south coast, she felt that this country was ugly. For as long as she could remember she had only known the hate that her country felt for their neighbor to the north, Kinmoku. That hate had turned her country into a place of sadness, fear, and hatred, not a place of peaceful loving like she had once been foolish enough to imagine her country to be.
It made her want to scream, and rip out her golden hair in frustration. She couldn't even understand what lead the two countries to fight so ferociously. They had been fighting for so long that hardly anyone remembered the true reason for the fight anymore. The only thing
Ex-Detective Inspector1. His office was emptyEx-Detective Inspector3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
2. Not that empty- standardised desk with a worn cardboard box on it
3. In the box was fourteen years
4. His wife was gone
5. He didn't blame her
6. This box was heavy, but if fit in the car
7. ex, ex, ex- one syllable, and it was poison
8. ex-Detective Inspector
9. They hadn't fired him, just demoted him to approximately the status of a rug
10. He still believed in a madman named Sherlock Holmes
Like an angel-prologueLike an angelLike an angel-prologue2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Somewhere unknown to mortals there is a place of pure light and love and happiness. Some mortals call it heaven, all I know is in this place a little boy with raven black hair and bright blue eyes sits on something that isn't there and looks at everything that ever was and everything that could ever be.
I smile when I see him there, lost in thought, and sit down beside him. He looks up at me when I sit and smiles. This boy's smiles are the most warm and most wonderful I've ever seen. Then the young boy speaks; “Did you ever think there could be something more?”
More? I looked at him, surprised, I did not understand what he meant, what more was there? I decided to ask him, “More? What do you mean more?”
“More than this. More than this life. More.” He elaborated and suddenly I understood what he meant.
“You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?” I asked, even though I already knew what the answer would
IIIIt had been three days to date since Jim's little show.III3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sebastian was waiting for Moriarty's return. He would continue forth with his daily routine, constantly expecting Jim to sidle up alongside him with that grin of his, hat pulled down low over his sunglass clad eyes, a hand tugging on Seb's arm, dragging him home, giving him a new assignment.
It had been three weeks to date since Jim's little feature.
Sebastian wasn't worried yet. Why should he be? His boss would do this quite frequently, vanishing for months at a time on some sudden whim of his fancy. Whether it was to take down a target or because a new hobby had captured his interest for a short period, sending him dancing around the globe to collect them all.
It had been three months to date since Jim's little exposé.
Sebastian still wasn't worried about his boss, but there was this feeling in the pit of his stomach, much like a lead ball weighing him down.
He made certain to jog by Jim's