Takuto v Riki The Spicy Pork Noodle ChallengeI was heading out after a long day at the museum when my cell phone rang.Takuto v Riki The Spicy Pork Noodle Challenge2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Hey! Are you leaving work yet?”
It was Hiro. What’s he calling me for?
“Yes, what is it?”
“Get down here quick! We got trouble!”
I hung up and made a mad dash to Le Renard Noir. When I got there, Riki and Takuto were having some sort of argument. Hiro and Kenshi were off to the side with Boss trying to stay out of it.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Riki got onto Takuto for his pork noodle eating habit; saying he needs to eat other things,” said Kenshi.
“Takuto, doing what Takuto does best told him to piss off and kept eating,” said Boss.
“Then, Riki did the unthinkable…he took his bowl away,” said Hiro.
I don’t know what kind of reaction they were expecting but I still didn’t see what the big deal was.
“So?! You don’t t
Voltage Stars React to the Knife GameVoltage Stars React to…Viral VideosVoltage Stars React to the Knife Game2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Today’s video is…The Knife Game
Watch the original video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_t2bnp8aoXw
Prince Joshua and Prince Roberto from “Be My Princess”
Joshua: What is this?
Takuto Hirukawa and Riki Yanase from “Love Letter from Thief X”
Riki: This is a smart idea (sarcastic)
Takuto: There better be blood
Kunihiko Aikawa and Haruka Ustsunomiya from “My Forged Wedding”
Kuni: Why would anyone do this?
Haruka: Is he going faster?!
Ranko Togoshi from “Love Letter from Thief X”
Ranko: No, no, no, no, no, no! I hate knives!
Shota from “Office Secrets”
Shota: Is this for real?
Ibuki Yanase from “Love Letter from Thief X”
Ibuki: I don’t see the appeal to do something like this
Kenny from “A Knights Devotion”
Kenny: There’s some seriously messed up people. This has bad id
a painting hung all wrong.in a dream.a painting hung all wrong.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
we find him strung up in our garage
washing line taut. neck bulging.
i covered someone's eyes.
stopped them from remembering,
almost familar features
and blue blue blue blue wide open eyes.
where's someone to cover mine?
i mirror you with swollen throat
my voice thick with blood and screaming.
a painting hung all wrong.
Cold HeartedI'm tearing them down,Cold Hearted2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Piece by piece.
Let the walls fall,
Let the pain increase.
I stare my pain in the face,
Let it rip me a part.
Show what I've always feared,
In the depths of my cold heart.
I review my lack of care,
All the people that I've hurt.
When did I become so cold?
When did loved ones turn to dirt?
What happened to me?
Once so loving and kind.
When did it get so bad?
Did I suddenly lose my mind?
I want to trust again,
To love and to care,
But is the risk to high?
Is the cost of pain fair?
I realize that it's not.
I'm safe within my walls.
So much better to be cold,
Then to get hurt in the fall.
post-apocalipsticki.post-apocalipstick1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
red as the setting sun
and all men's shade
when she walks by
the dull stains
of the masses pined
like the fire's died
hips in motion
from tense to open
she's slicing a throat
when she lingers
and the hopeless
while she picks
from the fray
ContinuumI probably miss you like I miss painting caves,Continuum1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
like an ache somewhere deeper than inside my bones
too ingrained in myself to recall.
I probably kissed you when our bodies knew strength
like the spears in our hands
and then when the snow melted and the world dawned green, green, green.
I probably laughed with you when we saw pyramids pierce the desert skies
and again when we saw masts on the horizon.
I probably held your hand when Rome came down in flames.
I probably stood on pyres with you and sang a prayer for you
and knew your soul like the words in a bottle,
like a bird in the sky,
and I surely held my breath and knew that our flight would never end.
I will wander with you through cities someday soon
and I will dance with you through every uprising.
I will kiss you hard when the atmosphere disintegrates
and land beside you on Europa,
where we will build the history of a new world
and I will love you through all of it, always.
Who are the real monsters?The boy's room was dark, the only saviour from it was the little nightlight on the other side of the room. He closed his eyes in an attempt to scare the darkness, force it to recede and switch to daylight. He did everything he could to forget about the dark, because that's where it was.Who are the real monsters?2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Under the boy's bed there was a monster, one with a balding scalp and matted grey hair on its arms, chest, and face. Its smile was crooked, its teeth rotten. It was an ugly thing- the boy had seen it once when he dared a peak- and it frightened the boy terribly; what a shame his mother thought it was all a fabricated lie, blamed it on the little boy's wild imagination. She had said that, too, just this evening when she put the boy to bed at the usual time- she was a very punctual lady, there was no extending bedtime with her. But that was beside the point.
The boy closed his eyes tighter, trying to sleep and dream of a huge metropolis of a city, but the thing under the bed giggled loudly, distrac
Sails of the DragonA shining vessel in waters darkSails of the Dragon1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
White sails proud amidst the storm
From fierce clouds, the lightning stark
mocked the glow of fire warm
Proud she stood to fight the wind
Her dragon tall in growing light
While thunder roared in ceaseless din
Hating the fair craft so bright
On she sailed in crushing waves
Towards the first of sunrise's rays
Enraged, the roiling storm gave chase
But slowly faded in the warmth of day
Thus she emerged in shining form
To sail in light for evermore
Never again would there be a storm
That dared to challenge the Dragon's roar.
Flaking Photographs We see the greatnessFlaking Photographs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of faces belittled
in little boxes
Poets and ParadoxesTo be a poet is an endless paradox,Poets and Paradoxes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A constant contradiction of your thoughts
And division of your soul.
Paper cuts will scar your skin,
And fill your ink well up with blood
So you have no choice but to write from your heart.
It means you cry and lie
And lay awake each night
Thinking of new ways and new words
To hurt you and heal you all at once.
It makes it so that the beat of the stanzas
Is a heartbeat,
Hammering in time with your own
And speaking to you about every moment
That you have been compelled to pen.
It means breaking yourself apart
Into ink and sharp shards
Small enough not to cut anyone
And maybe those foolish and wonderful enough
To try piecing you together.
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting:this is about forgetting3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
For weeks you bury your face in the clothes you wore when he was near and the smell is a comfort and a torture. You decide that the torture is not worth the comfort so you leave them draped across the back of a chair and place things on top of them to stop yourself until one day you shove your hands through the pile until your fingers wrap around the fabric and you yank it free only to realize it was pointless. Even his ghost is gone.
The next thing that leaves is the way his voice looked in the dark. Those few sentences become blurred and rough around the edges. What you remember drops in your stomach in a different way.
You run your fingers over your
I Have Loved the Stars Too FondlyThese vast expanses broader than the skiesI Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And deeper than the ocean, just as blue
Are unobtainable from where the view
Is struck by light and hidden from my eyes.
Oh marvels of the farthest-reaching space,
Oh nebulae, oh planets, ancient stars,
Already naked eyes have fought such wars
To glimpse beyond the darkness to your face.
And light which grows with centuries has bled
Still higher in the night and drowned you out.
My city home has left my eyes in doubt
That worlds of breathless beauty I have read
Exist, nor are they found where'er I look:
All space confined in pages of a book.
Art.Your body isArt.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your soul is
So much depth
Your touch is
Your presence is
You are the most
work of art
that I have ever
A Good Time to Be Bad at Ice Skating (RusPru)The winter Olympics had yet to begin and Russia already felt the pain of the jabs that were being thrown at him. He had had to endure everyone criticizing his policies, his government, and his preparation. The Olympics were supposed to be the moment for the home country to shine, but it wasn't feeling that way to Russia. His stress needed an outlet and there was a very obvious way to do it.A Good Time to Be Bad at Ice Skating (RusPru)1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Russia would never express his love for certain sports to anyone else. There was certain strangeness to sharing something like that with a different country, something human about it. It was the custom of countries to keep a considerable distance from the other countries by communicating only professionally and in a capacity that only had to due with their identities as countries. Anything personal was intimate, even a real human name was reserved for people with a close bond. Chatting about sports and hobbies was almost completely unknown, because that was like opening your human heart to someone e
Paradoxes in her bonesand she always dismisses herselfParadoxes in her bones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and leaves her pupils dilated
lighthouses and forget-me-nots tangled in her chest
but her thoughts shiver more than her dreams.
he calls her beautiful
as she longs to stick his eyes out with stones
and grasp his aching heart between her hands
but they both know he's already broken.
how can they stop when they've never started
she wishes she could send them reeling
with stalwart syllables and poignant sighs
even though she's never made a sound.
the storms outside are bitter
no sweet rain after dusk to wet her lips
the winds inside her are quiet, and seething
with all the words she's never said
and all the promises she's ever broken.
AutumnGolden-brownAutumn1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Green turned yellow
And all the other colors
Are the colors of
My autumn leaves
My autumn leaves
Are piled high
So as to touch
The leaves fly
High and low as they
Endlessi could talk to youEndless1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
until my throat bled
from all the sharp corners
of every word
and i'd listen to your voice
until the sun
circles the moon.
and then some
ShatteredI'm frShattered1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
s of my
Which I never knew could split in two
It's as if I'm not even made of skin and bone
Like I'm just a replica
It's not your fault
I can never blame you sweetie
I just wish I could hold you
I just wish.
It hadn't been you to go
Because I deserved it more.
Because I deserve it now.
I'm fractured and broken down
A ship wreck a plane crash a car accident
A fire a typhoon a tsunami, and an earthquake all in one
Peter Pan EnvyWe molded pirate shipsPeter Pan Envy8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
from heavy storm clouds,
flags puffed up
and scooped out
like handfuls of sand
while the car windows
steamed in the cold.
You told me stories
of a boy in green
and his war with
the hooked man,
said they took
those like us
to the first star on the right
and straight on to morning.
You made me believe
and when life got hard--
mom hopped up on pills,
nights filled with demons--
I breathed wishes
to be stolen away.
No pirate ever darkened my stoop
with his wayward compass
or water-stained maps;
no fairy ever left glitter
smeared on my skin
like good dreams.
I look to the sky
when the wind blows
and hold my breath
with his name on my tongue
all the same.
Ocean,I'm pouring the lake at you again;Ocean,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to speak the river and swill the crick with you
where all waters flow to and they've crowned you
would find our what-if miracles in a far-off land
in empty bottles under swollen rocks
trickling caves, island curtains and lighthouses
with us so divided by the waves;
let's find our thrones and bind the world to our ankles
with roots and swim regardless
then spree hardship so
our eyes will be just foam in the grace of what they see
as the sun sets and we sing each others' worlds
to forget each others' names.
BreatheYou inhaled herBreathe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And exhaled me
Taking in deap slow breathes
But breathing out fast
When she holds you
You breathe her in
With each moan
Every time you say her name
You exhale me
In time back I filled your lungs
I was spreading
I was in your cells
I traveled into your muscles
I made your heart beat
With each beat you took more of me
You could feel me
I was in your being
I was part of you
I didn't mind
let go, little bird--hope is the tired little bird at the bottom of your heart, the one whose tiny wings are broken and bleeding, the one that won't stop flapping uselessly at the sky, like it's going to take off, take off dammit, even when it's fading by the second and dying in a heap of feathers, and it breaks your heart to see the optimistic flame still sparkling in such innocent eyes.let go, little bird--5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm writing this to tell you that i don't know what i need. i'm writing this because i can't pull any fancy metaphors from the back of my throat to save my pride this time. i'm writing this to see the look on your face when you wake up and wonder why i keep running away.
hope is the thing with feathers, my broken baby bird. hope is the trust in those newborn eyes that makes you burst out sobbing although you never know why. it's the razor-sharp edge between happiness and pain, the line you try to fly on crippled wings, my little bird, just to save someone stronger from having to walk it for themselves.