Hey, Prince Gumball ~Gumshall~HeyHey, Prince Gumball ~Gumshall~3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
can you feel his bass?
can you feel him breathing on your face?
When the sun shines in Ooo,
all he can do
is fall fast for you.
will you let him hold your hand?
will you let him do what only he can?
When the sun shines in Ooo,
all he can do
is fall fast for you.
it's winding down.
Let him kiss your yummy skin
Let him win.
hear the sound,
let him take you
away for the day.
When the sun shines in Ooo,
all he can do
is fall fast for you.
Only for you.
TTK: Chapter 2.1Don't Take It EasyTTK: Chapter 2.15 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"We need to get out of here," emphasised Sora, pocketing her phone, "Where's the 501st stationed?" she asked Lynette.
"We were recently transferred to the Canary Islands."
"How much trust do you have in your crew?"
"I'd trust them with my life. But the 501st isn't the only unit stationed on the Islands. And I'd rather not involve them in this."
"Point made. And it would take you too close to London."
Lynette blinked, "Me? What are you going to do?"
"This gives me a good chance to do something I've had no opportunity to before," Sora turned to the native woman, "What's the patching system for?"
"I don't know. We constantly update code to the town of Maldon, east of here."
"Awesome. I'd head there. Miku's clearly up to something here, hopefully something that can get me out of the Kingdom so I can find those I have missed for such a long time."
Lynette stepped forward with a determined expression on her face, "I'll come with you."
Sora took a moment to
Brincando com boneca - English versionBrincando com boneca - English version2 years ago in Settings More Like This
How to make Muffin-Tin PiesHow to make Muffin-Tin Pies3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
This is a really fun recipe I use for the Holidays and parties! ^-^
The steps listed below will make approximately one/one-and-a-half batches of twelve mini mixed-berry pies. Just use a regular muffin tin, and you can use paper muffin cups if you like, but if you don't I recommend spraying the ENTIRE muffin tin (not just the cups) before putting in the dough to help them come out easier.
The Oven will need to be pre-heated to 350 degrees before the pies can go in the oven.
2 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons of salt
1/2 cup shortening (I generally use Crisco)
3/4 cup butter (chilled)
6 Tablespoons of ice water
Making the dough:
1.) Cut up butter into medium-sized cubes and return it to the refrigerator for later use.
2.) Cut up the shortening and drop in chunks into a bowl of ice water.
3.) In a separate bowl (large), combine flour, sugar and salt and then mix well.
3.) After they are chilled, remove the shortening from ice water, the but
Willow It's freezing, sub-zero out here. I make my way through the park to the lake, where the trees open out and you can see the sky once more. It's beautiful, on a day like today. Not a cloud in the sky - just a pale whiteness, a hole in the fabric of the heavens. I take the mud track through the undergrowth and find a place where no one will see.Willow4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I grew up here, in this town, by this park. We used to come here all the time, to ride our bikes, feed the ducks in summer, and in winter, we'd take our skates and head for the lake, where we'd carve patterns into the ice. There's a photograph of me I remember, one of those old Polaroids that's been exposed to the light a little too often so the colour's all washed out. In it I'm crouched beneath the branches of an old willow tree, parting the leaves like curtains to frame my face. I'm grinning at the person behind the camera, my eyes not quite focused on the future. I don't remembe
The Butterfly and The GrasshopperTitle: The Butterfly and The GrasshopperThe Butterfly and The Grasshopper3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Rating for cut version: PG-13
Warnings for cut version: AU, angst, het, violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Cherry or The Bouncer. These characters belong to Studio Killers.
A/N: Requested by Rokoshay. Character Cometblast belongs to her. This is an AU taking place in my Bugformers universe.
Looking back on the early days of her life wasn't easy for Cometblast. She had hatched in a dank, rotting tree stump among a clutch of fifty siblings, born a mixed Marine Blue Butterfly, although her wings were more purple with silver streaks, armor matching the purple with bright, silver patches, along with a mix of Jewel Beetle, and a Gray Wall Jumper. The siblings around her ranged in species of butterflies, spiders, grasshoppers, and mantises. Her young mind was overwhelmed by the sight and noise of so many siblings, and she instinctively crawled around in search of her mother and father. Everything was confusing for her, and there were n
SleeptalkI buried the deadSleeptalk5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and they came up stories.
- Angle of Repose, Sleepytime Gorilla Museum
I am made of a series of stumbles;
of mispronunciations and a rhyming guide
to natural histories. Nights spent revisiting
the mysteries of the frame of a lightbulb,
fish nets, home. Such screams and sleeptalk
as dreams are made on and I am torn from
as I am forcefed a pulse and a rhythm
and a mantra to forget them all by day.
I am the tempest:
the tongue of a soothsayer,
a palm full of future; and I'll keep
until I have nothing left to say.
Lazarus' LoverHere you are again, at my door:Lazarus' Lover5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
clawed back from the fall with the same
old call: 'tell you all, I shall tell you
all'. Well guess what? That's the last straw.
It's hard to be amazed
when there's no audience to enthral
and you're trailing frayed
paper guts 'cross the floor. But no more!
Each time you come back back
back to me, your heart bleeds blacker
than blue, but there's no remorse
for what you put me through. This time,
'sorry' just won't cut it; you can cry
yourself dry for all I care: 'cause
each time you pop out of thin air, I swear
I'd stick a knife through you before
I'd take you back. Well you can chew
on cut glass all you want
whilst my heart break-
fasts on all the halfboiled sunrises
I've spent waiting for you
to stick yourself back together. Sure, there's glue
on your hands, but blood too - mine from
each time I believed your stories.
Back from the dead? Screw you! I know
how you lie, and how we've been tied
by fiction fractious as us but
no longer. From ea
WinteringIt's a canvas of mouthings,Wintering4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of open throats, that wave of grey.
Storm clouds pass like sails torn,
loosing their limbs to the wind
with each stroke of the brush.
There's a symphony in the rush
of them, howling their wolfcry, O -
breathings holes into the fabric,
Lethe leaving their lungs. And low,
tugging at the hymns that line the sky,
the moon, sister of a stone,
rises, rises with her hood of bone.
.jupiter..jupiter5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
- Is this your first time drowning?
I'd let you speak for yourself, but I note
that in your not inconsiderable credentials,
it states you're a compulsive liar.
And you've a throat of thunder, at that.
You've been choking back
on atelophobia ever since you woke
under turpentine skies. Wondering why
the cat has nine times to die
and you have none.
- What happened to the sun?
You know only too well.
You gripped it too tight
and snuffed out the light.
Show me your borders,
your whalebone girt,
and I'll show you the way
the rays will pucker your skin
like a Nazi lampshade.
- What about the thunder?
Yes, what about the thunder?
The way you dialled telephone numbers
on knucklebones? The way you put your ear
to the floor, one foot in the door,
and felt for a pulse?
Each of these is a symptom of acute
sickness of the mind:
labyrinth disorder and your own kind
of Stockholm syndrome.
But I'm curious -
did you ever get an answer?
- And who sent
TFA Bugformers: New AdditionsTitle: New AdditionsTFA Bugformers: New Additions4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Pairing: Lockdown/Prowl; slight Prowl/?
Rating for cut version: M
Warnings for cut version: AU, angst, crack!, fluff, gore, mentioned het, MPREG, slash, squick, violence
Summary: (TFA Bugformers Universe) Just when Lockdown and Prowl are starting to settle down into their new life, something goes horribly wrong.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no profit from this.
A/N: Sequel to this http://geminigirl83.deviantart.com/art/TFA-The-Moth-and-the-Spider-182531429?q=gallery%3Ageminigirl83%2F10504197&qo=20 and http://geminigirl83.deviantart.com/gallery/?q=loss#/d33c6sf Wachey created Dementia, Lockdown's mother. Here's a picture of Dementia: http://wachey.deviantart.com/gallery/?q=lockdown#/d3h32ia
Lockdown's left optic twitched as he stood at the entrance of his burrow, gazing up at a monstrous sized female Wolf Spider. Prowl, who had been getting the sparklings ready for dinner, ventured toward the entrance when Lockdown didn't return or call o
You'reYou're secret,You're6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
iridescent like tears;
an intricate spiders' web
a smile, spliced.
Fair like the weather.
You're my intravenous jigsaw,
with labyrinthine eyes
My ball-jointed umbra,
you're fractured glass -
a moon-skulled reflection;
bare and hollow,
black-backed like the undersides of stars.
blurred at the edges -
a bird with feather flutings
and broken wings
headfirst into sun-split daydreams.
.neptune..neptune5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
After the months spent in utero, walking feels strange.
Ground is sound in colour, synaesthesia beneath the heels,
watered down to reveal a horizon of endless blue, and Neptune.
Opening himself like a oracle. He is all mouth: a throat
of thunder, teeth a string of binary numbers. Kether of kelp,
barnacle bones strewn in every bottled message, each letter of
HELP scrawled into the shoreline. A missing-person clue.
Feet rubbed raw, he heads for the ocean, where those water-
logged wishers wash such surface wounds with their salted tears.
It's a pain that's only real when you're reeling, that you can only
find when hanging from fish-hooks and the coral-plugged ceilings
in the backwaters of your mind, though it's hidden behind
every dark glass. Basketcase, they may have said, but it's a fatal
tendency to identify the whole being with one interest,
and this will give him a certain distinction when he's dead;
an heir of tragedy. He looks out to sea, and sees white horses
Lion-Hearted GirlIt was the cold that finally did it;Lion-Hearted Girl5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
drove me inside the wardrobe
where I curled up and closed off.
It was safe there, hemmed in
amongst the coloured wool sweaters,
the neatly pressed t-shirts and the flat
paper ghosts, hanging -
as if in suspense - with breath
baited, stagnated. Their air thick
and warm like syrup, sweet narcotic
cloying in my throat,
dragging me deep like a lullaby
to somewhere dull and safe
But outside, I can still hear you:
a ghost, roaming your own
card-plated home, clawing at the door.
You! What are you hiding in there for?
Get out here now - you can't keep running
away forever, you know! It's pathetic! (Or,
as the case may be, parenthetic
just a pause to let me catch my [your]
breath) Do you think I can ignore
this? All your mumbling and
rocking and crying and lip-biting
tumbles as you trip, tongue-tied,
knock-kneed, to Narnia? You
(never could understand how I got lost
in every moment of mouths that opened
over my he
Phan: Call MeTitle: Phan: Call MePhan: Call Me3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Genre: Sad, I guess. But romance too.
Rating: like Pg-13? idk.
Author's Note: So yeah, I haven't uploaded anything in almost a month. This isn't my best fic, but hopefully you guys will like it. Sorry if it's a bit of a disappointment. Love you guys<3
Phil walked the streets of Manchester alone. Once again, his good-for-nothing friends had organised a day out without bothering to include him. Isn't that nice? He sighed and kept his eyes on the ground. He was so bored. Right now he could be out shopping, having fun, but obviously his friends didn't want him to be there.
He turned the corner and glanced up at the Starbucks sign above the shop. Well, he might as well get a coffee, he had nothing better to do anyway. He pushed the door open and joined the queue. It was surprisingly busy for a Saturday night. Most people would be out clubbing and having fun, like his friends are now.
On GazingI have seen the Devil, andOn Gazing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He is Us.
I blame Him for my halo,
a noose of neon blue.
If Hell is other people,
what then are its daemons?
Conveyor belts and cogs,
coffee spoons and sighs
on oily shores of gold and
by wolves in skins of Jesus,
from every mouth,
with halos made
of neon blue,
nauseating nursery rhymes
that sell our souls
to one of two.
He is higher than the Other,
in the image of Himself.
I have seen the Devil, and
He is Us.
I blame Him for my halo,
a noose of me and you.
To My True Love...I want to paint a smile,To My True Love...4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and from your face take
I want to drink you in,
and sketch the very thought of you
in laughter lines
I want to dive
in the ocean of your eyes,
find the soul therein,
and with it dance for joy.
I want many things,
but most of all,
I want to know your name,
taste its whisper on my tongue,
smell its scent upon the breeze,
and bathe within its light.
StargrazingOn nights like theseStargrazing4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
we like to call ourselves stargrazers,
deep sky tourists.
We head up to the headland,
where heaven grafts itself to earth,
stitching the breeze between
our cheekbones, our fingertips.
Below, the sea stretches out
with an endless hush. You tell me
we'll sit in the rift
of the tide's smile to keep in touch
with the muchness of being
and believing. But seeing
beyond that pale of blacklight
is another matter. You have a map,
so you take the back of my hand
and paint a picture in mime
and synaesthesiac rhyme:
Our sky is like cats' eyes
kaleidoscoping along a wide road,
a highway of air and neverending
distance, with stars that sink deep
into tar - or maybe sheets - like sleep.
Think of travelling by car, you say. Of
flying then falling. My stars
Sunday's Child Speaks To SleepOnce upon a Sunday, I saw godSunday's Child Speaks To Sleep5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she looked like you moon-eyed insomnia
collecting sleep-dust at the elbows, rusting
ball-joints. She chewed the chalk-lit skies
as they curved chromatic into my stiff yellow collarbones,
and swept up the night. She was busy setting suns
and settling the air, but she took the time
to answer my prayer in lullaby tones.
"Sleep is wrong", she said, simply.
And I agreed. Because alone,
I see you clearer
hiding behind your rag doll physics as you rip
one day from the next with the kiss of death-
in-life, you shallow breather. Caught on the cusp
of your muchness, I have always been
sucking the warmth from your kerosene fingers
whilst counting the cloud-bodied creatures
with their faces of the blackout. Sometimes
there are whole nights unbroken,
of plump and pregnant hush; baited spaces
Paper PlanesSometimes it feels as if the world isPaper Planes6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
turning in on itself, and that I too
am curling up, folding away, and
learning how to fly.
For we were all born
from the insides of stars,
spouting words and colourforms
and every shade of moth-backed night imaginable.
Even me and my stitches.
And to stardust we'll return.
Maybe I'll fade through this filtered sunlight,
back to me at five,
discovering the world underwater:
the sun split and scattered across the surface;
the mouths puckered, full of streams; the skin
that flickered and wavered like a mirage
that was not your own. Floating:
that feeling of weightless freedom.
And maybe -
dustclouds opening across my eyes -
I'll be able to come up for air
Hearts Around Your NameWhen I first saw you,Hearts Around Your Name5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I didn't see a lot.
But over the past few months,
I've realized you're kinda hot.
Whenever I see you,
My face turns bright red.
And I try to forget,
My embarrassment before it's said.
Since the day I met you,
My life is not the same.
And now I can't stop doodling,
Hearts around your name.
My friends are always teasing me,
About my crush on you.
And when they finally cross the line,
I'm not quite sure what to do.
If only you knew,
How I really felt.
Whenever I see you,
My heart begins to melt.
I can't control myself very well,
My heart beats faster and faster.
My stomach is constantly flipping,
Throughout our class and after.
I know you'll never like me,
The way that I like you.
But just keep this in mind:
I'll eventually get through.
If you are to see this,
Let's hope you never know it's me.
It's just an anonymous poem,
Like my feelings for you should be.
I wish they'd never told.
I wish you'd never discovered.
I wish we could just start all over,
So you'd never k
MonologueBe brave.Monologue8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I tell myself this every day and still the fears do not fade.
Theres a strange desperation that grows inside me; inextinguishable, indelible, insurmountable. It grows inside me and spreads its tenacious fingers round my throat, ever tightening. Im going to suffocate soon if I dont get out.
Oh, to be out of here. I wonder if its the same as I remember. Sunlight blinks through the cracks in the wall and the rays dance among the shadows of my prison. I want to feel the warmth on my cheeks again, and let the soft breeze caress my skin. I can close my eyes and be anywhere I want to be; a dream world where wishes come true, life is fair and I am free.
But when I open my eyes again the room comes back into focus; the murky depths of my private hell where I am destined to wallow in my pitiful soul. Im sick of the shadows. I want to see the sky. Its not fair that everyone else can watch the sunrise. Why cant I?
I kick the wall again. My nails
Liar, LiarIf l'appel du videLiar, Liar5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is the urge to drown
all sense of self - to split
and accumulate bruises -
then to fabricate fables, to
forge fictions as I do
is nothing more than
poor impulse control.
I do not mean to confuse
or abuse the truth. My lies
are like thalidomide -
junkyard art shoved into being,
or the shards of
gasping hearts breaking
out of code. Making mundane myths
a la mort, a la mode; I'm caught
in distortion, pretty as drugs.
Junkie; addict. Liar, liar,
I require a fix of fiction -
the lies I tell and spin to sell.
(Some tears, a loose tooth,
the unravellings of truth.
The sum of myself out of
all that's left to give).
AbuseHitting, punching,Abuse2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Trauma at dawn,
This is all so wrong.
Nothing was there,
Just the cold air,
There you stare,
With the huge chair.
You never let me free,
To run at the big tree,
But you had other plans,
With my bloody hands.
Days turned into weeks,
Losing color within my cheeks,
The floor creaks,
With every pressure in my feet.
There lays the remains,
Of my veins,
There lays the chains,
For his gains.