ShizuoxReader: Dancing With Danger: Part 4"I'm sorry, Miss _______, but we were not able to trace the transaction."ShizuoxReader: Dancing With Danger: Part 43 years ago in Romance More Like This
You looked up in horror at the solemn police officer. He and his colleague had only knocked on Shizuo's front door five minutes ago, and you already didn't like where this was going.
"So... You don't know who did it... Or where the money went...?" You asked slowly. You shifted in your chair. Across the table, the officer simply nodded.
"There's no way to tell. Someone extremely crafty must've done it." He sighed. "We'll keep looking into it, of course, but for the time being, it's a dead end."
You bit your lip looked away. "All right, well...Thanks for the update." You didn't really know what to say at this point. In all honesty, you'd been expecting something like this.
'Someone extremely crafty...' You were glad Shizuo was out working. Hearing that would've set him off on an
SwedenXFinland - The LieChapter 2SwedenXFinland - The Lie3 years ago in Romance More Like This
It was later in the evening. I felt sick, so I was laying in my bed. Finland was worried for my health, and tried his best to take care of me. He laid a wet towel on my head.
I grunted as I felt my stomach cramp in pain. It was all worth it really. I got a smile from Finland.
"Are you okay?"
He just couldn't help but to worry about me...How sweet.
"It's just stomach pain..."
I grunted again, and sighed. Maybe if I go to sleep it will go away...
"I want to sleep..."
I closed my eyes once I grabbed Finland's hand. His hand is always warm...I love it...It makes me feel so relaxed...
I woke up and it was rather dark. I barely could see anything. Finland was still sitting by my bed. He was staring at the floor. I wonder what he is thinking...It seems Finland finally noticed me awake.
"Your still here..."
I looked at the clock. It was somewhere near midnight.
"It's past the time for when you go home..."
I am the wayward childI wish I had something more to offerI am the wayward child2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when your joints ached and your bones creaked
and you wept dust; (the cobwebs around
your tongue were a comfort once)
but I am three times screwed
over backwards and turned right around,
breathing in gravel and praying on
the only consistencies I know like
on Sun-day we are in the house of God
and it won’t rain and dad won’t speak
and mom will sit with pursed lips counting
all the times we didn’t kiss her goodbye
and everyone will call it normal,
everyone will look at the way I write words
on cracked pavement and get glassy-eyed
when they speak softly and forget the sound
of my own voice when I’m afraid; all those times I
tripped over my own feet and walked away
with wounded knees, and they will call me normal.
I’m at it again, building barricades
from ashes and calling them friends
(this here is fear, he visits me nightly;
and that stale stain in the corner
is actually anxiety, recuperating
from the moment it caught a
No SolaceMy Solace is no more,No Solace2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My heart is broken and shattered,
My soul cannot feel no more,
As I lay here on the floor,
Blood flowing from my wounds,
So deep and so Neatly cut,
As my solace Ripped me apart,
Shattering my hope's and dream's,
So now my solace has crushed me so,
For now I feel nothing anymore,
So I shall lay here numb and in pain,
For i shall never be put together again,
For i have no Solace left in this world.
Sorry Then SafeiSorry Then Safe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we like to play with fire.
as it eats away at our
insipid nature, and licks the
desolate consistency of our bones,
our inner cold is warmed.
you say that it reminds you
of my fevered eyes.
we make scarecrows into humans
into saviors, then tear them down again
for not cleansing out our wounds.
we forget they were only born
to keep the birds from
devouring us further.
and they watch, feebly, as we
fall face-first into our fate
you looked me dead in the eye
"we are all walking ghosts
waiting to die so we can live"
and your whitened hands became
a symbol of achievement
we write our epitaphs the day we're conceived,
like a taunt to something greater to come
and steal us away in the middle of the night
from the livelihood we were promised.
but it's less than that, we're erasing
all definitions of chance. we're
marking the path we never want to follow.
we drift in and out of self-awareness,
human consciousness, competing philosophies,
delusions of grandeur and deeper
Savage State of MindGood men Bad menSavage State of Mind1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
we have drawn lines on ourselves and who we are from the beginning of our civilization
we have cut ourselves into two pieces
marking our sins with white ink
us Good men Bad men
pretending to go along with this parade of comedy
only held by two pieces constantly contradicting
colliding against our different faces in circles
good men bad men
for we are simple men
created by our own pride
tricked by corruption and religion
the forces that drive us men to insanity
us Good men Bad men.
Don't try to pretend like you
for you are both and more.
Your body, covered with words and description
scratching out your mind and distinction of
Good men Bad men
smell your own breed
we will never be ideal
carved to believe
that we are purity
an innocence that never belonged to us
born into the world as
Good men Bad men
ImpatientIf you talk to anyone who waits at red lights or cares about fashion or owns a gun, they'll know a thing or twoImpatient3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
about all of us; all of humanity. We are all flowers, we are all little universes, we are all the underdog future.
And maybe this is completely true, and maybe some girl pierced her ear in the 8th grade bathroom, and maybe you
have sand in your shoes from that visit to the beach last week. What does it matter, is this an absolute?
We are all pieces of God, we are all forgetting about Heaven, we are all waiting politely for death to break in
through the bathroom window. You can ask the stains on the sidewalk, the birds who refuse to build nests, the
faded black hair on the barbershop floor. They will tell you that this all does matter, and if you care about your
children, it's an absolute, too. Sometimes I run through traffic lights, wear half-unbuttoned flannel and scoff
at the glory of firearms, but you can talk to me whenever you grab my shoulder and take a moment to stop s
Autobiography of an Empty EndingYou will live fartherAutobiography of an Empty Ending2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and ingest a world
unaffected by me,
where words wasted on spent breath
crumble like the last crush
presented with a wedding ring,
goodnight kiss to eternity.
You will live better. As if my name
was never given a being, as if it were not
engraved into the foundation of your efforts.
Can you remember the day we gulped dinosaur piss?
That rust-colored wine bottle, an arrowhead abandoned.
A Native American's last stand weighing down on your shoulders,
as you gasped Napoleon's last sigh
wind kicked up dead leaves;
red clay, lost wars forgotten,
and clear spirits hoping
Once upon a time I will drown
in my own reflection, and
the headlines will mourn
for a minute, maybe two.
The world will spin again, and you,
will breathe on. You will live and forget, as the story
always goes; the wind will mourn, vulnerable,
(pretend that you don't taste my name.)
This is it, love, the
forever after. This is it,
princess, orphan, this is
Night Skywhen the world around you seems dark,Night Sky2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and the tears well up in your eyes,
look to find hope in the night skies,
when life seems hopeless,
and you're riddled in scars,
hold fast to hope,
and look to the stars
SwedenXFinland - The LieChapter 6SwedenXFinland - The Lie2 years ago in Romance More Like This
---Few weeks later---
I was cleaning up my room today. It always stays clean, so I don't know why I even bothered. I guess I was trying to distract myself from worrying about Finland. He was still sick no matter how much medicine I bought for him. I still couldn't help but to worry about him...
'Should I check up on him again?'
I decided to call and check up on him. I walked down the stairs after I left my room and over to the phone. I picked it up and dialed Finland's number. Once again, it took awhile for him to answer.
"Hello Finland... How have you been?"
"A-Ah... I've been fine," He said, sounding very nervous about something.
"Is it alright if I come over and make you dinner?" I asked. Maybe a proper meal will help him recover.
"Alright... See you later." I hung up the phone as soon as I heard Finland said bye.
I was getting ready to leave for Finland's house. I was packing up the ingredients needed for the meal I was going to make.
.: Reader x Ice Trickster!Dave: Cold As Ice :..: Reader x Ice Trickster!Dave: Cold As Ice :.1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
IT'S HOT AS HECKY AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND I'M BORED!!
P.S: I realize that it's July 4th and that I should go outside to be all 'yay america!' but I just never get into it! Sorry!
The ring-a-ding-ding of an ice cream truck echoed through your ears and you smiled, closing your diary/journal, whatever you call it, and you rolled off your bed.
You'd been waiting for a while, so you grabbed a dollar off your dresser and ran down the stairs.
Your parents weren't home, they had to work late Summer shifts (despite the fact that not everybody works on July 4th), so you were fine.
The ice cream truck came by once a week, and you had wanted to save the money for today.
As you approached the truck, you saw a guy out of the corner of your eye who looked depressed and blue.
In the heat of the weather, his breath came out in puffs of ice clouds. There were icicles coming off of his shades, which you couldn't see through. There was a large coat of fr
Lean Over The RailA wood and steel bench on a pierLean Over The Rail2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where the tourists have no reason
to go (that makes it home, that
makes it mine). It is chained to
the boards with seafoam rust
as if someone expects it to collapse
in the wind-
or to somehow preserve
all those pale carved hearts.
Like the one on the underside
of its leg, kept out of
sight (someone bent over
for this, someone wanted
this secret and forever).
(A tattoo, kept
from the family).
I can't read it anymore,
I can only touch it with
the top of my hand
and wonder if the ocean I'm
watching extends past
SwedenXFinland - The LieChapter 7SwedenXFinland - The Lie2 years ago in Romance More Like This
The very next morning was the worst. I didn't want to get out of my bed. How could a break up be so exhausting? My head hurt so much as I rolled over. I sat up slowly and looked at the clock.
I grunted and fell back on my bed. I will just sleep some more...
I woke up around 12. Since I didn't eat breakfast, I was very hungry. I got out of bed and left the room, without bothering to make the bed. With little motivation, I dragged myself to the kitchen. From there I began to cook. So many memories kept flashing in my mind. I tried to push them out my mind but they kept rushing back. I was so distracted by these thoughts that I didn't even noticed that the eggs were burning.
"A-Ah.." I quickly turned off the stove and removed the pan and placed it on another eye. Sighing, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the stove.
After I had cook something decent for me to eat, I sat at the couch, turning on the TV. The news was on, so I turned
OrigamiConcertina love lettersOrigami3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
torn just at the folds,
Star shaped boxes with your hopes
In corners they do hold.
As the edges start caving in
And the sides start to explode
The heat of passion is locked inside
Against the outside cold.
Fold your life in paper dreams
And send it up in smoke
Then as you watch the flames die down
Inhale- let yourself choke
For what good is your life, if frail
You place it next to heat
That burns all it encompasses-
Only destruction can you seek.
Instead I pray- fold gently
Your frame in paper cranes
And send them off on nature's breath-
To let them die would be a shame.
DeathDeath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fallen to the frail, desecrated figure of none other than Death
What of life
To be it nothing more than a shell of lost expectations, and diminished potential
Why are the rest finding a chance?
To be given choice other than pain and remorse
To live every day without looking in the mirror
Knowing who they are
As we stare in the mirror
Asking every day, what we have become
What has happened to this world
To see our form as frail as Death
The mirror shattering through venting
And pain found no more within us
Our knuckles bled that day
Only smiling at the pain
It has always been there to comfort us
Never felt by those with a future
Or a choice of what they are and were
To not run from marked pasts, or lingering choices
Lingering in the back of our minds as we attempt to sleep that night
Let it be said Death may be cruel, but not as cruel as the life once lived, or the life to be lived by others
The GameThere is a place where the light will not reachThe Game2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In that place there is a game that is played
A game which can steal your soul
You will run
You will hide
And you will fight
Before you die
For the daughter of the beast has been released
She will seek
She will play before she feast
So run, hide, or fight
For your soul will be hers before this game is over.
HaynsHayns2 years ago in Settings More Like This
Hayns. How to characterize these creatures from a far away world, Esvarra, in just a single word?
Empaths. Yes, this concept is a foundation of their culture, but it only answers “how?” and “why?” questions and not “what are they like?”
What does an empathy mean for a hayn? An ability to read minds of other's, an ability to feel their emotions. Inability to become distant from other creature's pain, great compassion toward other's suffering. A weird combination of collective intellect and individual reason.
Intellect and reason are not synonyms, at least in hayns' case. For example, let's take a computer: intellect is it's capacity, operative memory. Reason is all programs that use an electric “brain” as their main source. Intellect is capacity, reason is an algorithm. First one is impersonal, it's only responsible for complicated processes that a brain is capable of processing. Algorithms can be changed, overwritten and corrected. New pr
As i beggedI begged to the light,As i begged2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I begged for peace,
I begged for life,
I begged to be free,
But the light would not answer,
I begged the darkness,
I begged for hate,
I begged for power,
I begged for death,
But the darkness would not answer,
Then I begged to anyone,
I begged them to hear me,
I begged them to save me,
I begged them to end me,
But they would not come,
As I was left All alone,
Never to be heard Anymore.
ColorblindI gave away my name todayColorblind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and it might be a metaphor, but I think
we only remember the quietest suicides
the walls are thin enough to listen
as the angels try to scratch free;
bloodied fingernails and God says everyone
screws up, sometimes
I'm waiting for a silent night.
I only ever believed in solid ground
and depressions' tides, and sometimes,
those little wounds I nursed deep
within my vocal chords (because
my voice is dying, too)
I can see the beautiful people, now
overdosing on their own opiums of
self-acquittal and dissolution
they ran out of ways to ask for help.
I'm fragile, but my glass ribs
aren't holding much
and I'm through trying to find something
different, because it's scary to know
what exactly's the same
yesterday I was someone else and
tomorrow I'm further into inevitabilities of
who I promised I'd never be--
I'm waiting for a happy ending,
but if you love something
you let it go.
MetamorphosisI wrote you a letter -Metamorphosis1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
tried to phrase a suicide note,
but instead came out
with words that butterfly with hope
and blades that divide decisions
and not wrists. It spoke of love,
of that quiet desperation that I feel
when I am waiting for you to meet my glance,
your averted eyes poised with concentration. It spoke
of how long I waited to build a lifetime
with you, and how in many ways I still am.
It spoke of promises that balloon as uncontrollably
from my chest as panic sometimes drums from
my feet. But mostly,
it spoke of the destructive power of trust;
moment by moment, you destroy my barriers. I
mutilate beyond repair.
the fabric of unrealityit's quiet here. the trees lay like skyscrapers against a blue and grey sky, dotted by browning leaves and decaying bark. the sound of birds and running water lingers gently in the air, and the sun sends rays of golden light descending through the leaves to grace the purple, red and yellow flowers that litter the sea of green grass that surrounds me. the stillness reminds me of the times we used to spend together, when we were too tired to speak, but too happy to sleep.the fabric of unreality5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i feel okay though, like somewhere in the world people are happy and soon enough i will be like them. it makes me realise that no matter what happens, the world will continue spinning, and that the sun will continue rising.
i realise that i am simply a part of my surroundings, just one thought in an eternity, a myriad of thoughts that have been. yet at the same time, the world exists only as it is reflected through onto your retinas, only as you hear it through your ears. reality is an inescapable fabric, stretched acro
every goodbyesometimes i think you were my words;every goodbye4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you were the fog in the morning and the warmth of the summer
sometimes i miss you
and then i don't
and then, i can't even tell the fucking difference anymore
two days ago, our eyes caught.
they're still exactly the same, yours. with big brown irises and muddy eyelashes
you looked straight at me,
and i could almost smell your salt-water stained skin
and feel your eyelashes across my shoulder
and afterwards, i cried.
i wonder if you ever read the poems i gave you,
or if you just threw them out like
just because you don't love me
they mean nothing.
i haven't cried over you in so long.
i think you'll always be my favorite
Work Force CycleWork Force CycleWork Force Cycle2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From the day you're born,
You're called to be special.
You go to school and college.
You "learn" the curriculum.
Mathematics, literature, history…
You download that information,
because you need it.
Creativity, you say?
Don't bother with that.
It doesn't follow the curriculum.
Just download the knowledge
you're ready for reality.
Oh, you say you aren't special?
Don't say that, you're quite special.
Now let's see …
You are going to be a businessman.
What, you say you want to be an artist?
No, that won't due.
That won't make you special.
A job like that can't give you:
What, you don't want a life like that?
You don't want the money?
Any of it!
You'd give all of that up,
for a life without that …
Well, okay then.
But let me ask you something before I go.
Why don't you want to be special?
Because, that isn't me.