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
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
Feelings with no namesi.Feelings with no names3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message yet, let alone formulated time to write a reply, but you still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by and rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
The noise of a faraway car driving late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, in that sleepy place somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where everything is warm and vaguely fuzzy. The remote sound of tires on asphalt speaks to a sense of curiosity – where are they going? Why so early? – but the blankets are so heavy, your eyes are so heavy, and before you can wonder anymore, the car is long gone and you are long gone, carving out a hollow place to rest in just a few hours more.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that y
drunken sinners1.drunken sinners3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky had bled introverted colors of
reds and purples,
like some drunken painter had decided to
declare his independence.
you kissed her pale pink lips,
and i thought about why you'd love such a
the liquor was golden and gleaming
in your rusty
and your voice after you drank a glass
was grunge and grey and
you were different afterwards.
like someone had lacerated out your heart
from your chest and left it beating in my
you were combing through the bible like
an unread diary,
and i could see jesus's disapproving face from your
you were sinning and
you were also adam and i was eve
and we were both damned to
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.
Still-life.The best of my paintings:Still-life.3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the hum of
a sad piano,
a morning cigarette,
and a graveside angel;
all I ever wanted.
An hourglass between his knucklesHe quit smoking because heAn hourglass between his knuckles2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
didn’t like the taste of his own
mortality; bitter, brackish, black
as his lungs. Didn’t like the pull
of nicotine, ashy fingers,
the way a cigarette looked like
an hourglass pinched between his knuckles.
The ashtray began
to fill up again after his wife
died. Every day at first; an entire
pack after her funeral; a box
every three days; one flicker
of light in the evenings spent leaning
on the balcony railing,
watching the city go by through
a veil of smoke and memories.
I bought a pack for him once, just
to use my ID for something.
It’s still sitting on his coffee
table, one cigarette short.
Don't Write While You're Highwhere the scenesDon't Write While You're High3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
blend too seamlessly
to the next glance:
our twoselves soon rising
up-through white fibers—
from the thick of reality:
oilslicks slipping up-along
when later looking back: the lost
incompatible with water but—
we sought fewer thoughts
blood typethere is something haunting about the way blood flows.blood type3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
just think - all that crimson coursing through you,
scribing calligraphy inside your gut.
through your arms, through your heart.
it paints promises across the canvas of your innards, saying:
i promise to take time, to give you as much as you need.
i promise to stay warm even when chills tickle your spinal cord.
when blades threaten to sharpen themselves like buffers across your skin,
i will flow slowly, giving them a chance to see the light in your bones.
i promise to stay powerful.
i promise to stay abundant.
i promise to stay holy.
i will weave through your veins,
craft myself into a villanelle to savor your breath,
so that if you ever decide to drain me by your own 2 hands,
you can read my words and know that you are not worthless.
Twisted Corsettwisted corsetTwisted Corset3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tangled in strings
of the heart
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.
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 herBreathe3 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
The Wedding[My Forged Wedding FanFic] - Part 1"Good afternoon" I said as I entered Long Island, a sports bar owned by Aikawa Kunihiko, my uncle that I have no blood relation to. The bar also acts somewhat as a 'base' for Yamato and his old friends, too. Uncle, dressed casually as always, looked up from wiping the glasses. "Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Kogami!" Uncle answered jovially, his eyes glinting with mischievousness. I sat down on a chair and placed my right cheek on the bar counter, trying to cool my body from the cold surface after a long morning walking outside. "Oh? You seem to be quiet. Usually you would be giving me a comeback by now for calling you Mrs. Kogami" Uncle teased as he finished wiping the glasses. Ignoring his remark, I sat up and let out a sigh. "Uncle, can you give me a glass of mineral water? I'm thirsty" I said, looking at Uncle. "No shochu for the day?" he asked me and I shook my head in return. "I need to stay focused for the preparations of the wedding" I answered as Uncle gave me a glass of water.The Wedding[My Forged Wedding FanFic] - Part 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
post-apocalipsticki.post-apocalipstick2 years 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
you lied the night you kissed me.there is a thick exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my shouldersyou lied the night you kissed me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
till they hang and to my knees until they buckle. and I will sleep for days on end,
and when I wake up I didn't really.
I hate you dear, I hate you so.
because there is so much to do, I could travel to the other side of the country and
paint a portrait of a stranger and I could sit on top of someone's roof and look at the
stars with a boy I don't want to know and I could fall asleep in his bed and listen to
him playing guitar without clothes and he'd take me out for diner and anywhere I'd
want to go and we'd have sex in his car and on the trampoline in my back yard and
we'd eat at my grandparents with Christmas and it would never be enough because
he's everything you weren't.
I think I lost myself, I think I fell out that time you ran away holding onto me and my
skin tore. I looked for her in that empty hole in your chest cavity, but all I found was
lost so long ago, and you wouldn't show me where it went b
the oracle card in my pocketthe man i love is anthe oracle card in my pocket5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
old soul with a stunning mouth and
he gathers up pieces of me into
his hands and carries me to bed.
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
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
revelation.we whisper our prayersrevelation.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a cathedral of sheets
because we do not know
how to forgive
or be forgiven.
are made to a doctor
who keeps a record
of our wrongs
neatly tucked in her files
because she knows
become our altars,
our "hail mary"s
handed to pharmacists
in exchange for
of our souls.
to force ourselves
high and higher,
that we have been given
we have chosen
to be slaves,
to rebind ourselves
in our chains.
to turn the wine
i tell you
the body and brain
will not remain,
the eyes will lose their vision,
the hands their precision,
the ears the sound of earthly song,
the taste of indulgence on the tongue.
faith, at last, will begin to decay,
our hope revealed as the only way,
and we will
to the promise
Cold HeartedI'm tearing them down,Cold Hearted3 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.
Flaking Photographs We see the greatnessFlaking Photographs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of faces belittled
in little boxes