Shepard I'm PregnantDr. Chakwas looked down at Miranda lying on the bed. Miranda wondered briefly why she was here. After all, it was only a bit of sickness. But Shepard had asked her to go and find out what it was, so she had. It was early and the majority of the crew was asleep, except Dr. Chakwas. She seemed to be wide awake. Miranda envied her as she stifled a yawn. Dr. Chakwas looked down at the OSD and sighed. Miranda tried not to show the fear creeping through her.Shepard I'm Pregnant5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
"Miranda, you are not ill," she said, but Miranda noticed the look in Dr. Chakwas' eyes. "You are -- I don't quite know how to say this."
"What?" Miranda asked impatiently.
Dr. Chakwas faltered for a moment, and then said, "You are pregnant."
Miranda's mouth dropped open. I can't be. It's absurd.
She wanted to say something, but for once she was lost for words. She smiled as the realisation swept over her.
"Congratulations,"" Dr. Chakwas said with a faint smile.
Miranda was still a little stunned, but thanked the doctor. Then a terribl
If you feed the writerIf you feed a writer, they will follow you.If you feed the writer1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
If the writer follows you, they will talk to you. They will get ideas and inspiration from you, scribble down notes in a flimsy book.
If you talk to the writer, you will become attached. The writer will consider you a friend and seek you during their times of need. They will tell you when they are sleepy, when they are sick- they won’t tell you when they’re lonely, that’s up to you to tell. Read the writer’s writings, you will be able to tell a good bit about them.
If you become attached to the writer, you may fall in love with them. The writer will string only beautiful words to describe you. They will be head over heels for you.
If you fall in love with a writer, please treat them well. They are fragile creatures, teetering on the edge of fiction and reality. They need someone reassuring, someone who completes them. They are but an inch away from splitting themselves in two with their bare hands just to let all their
Die Probleme der NSA(Basierend auf einen wahren Artikel)Die Probleme der NSA7 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
»Wir befinden uns heute in der Basis 51 irgendwo in Deutschland. Wo wir mit den deutschen Leiter der hieransässigen NSA reden Mister Ben Smith, dessen Namen wir aus Datenschutzgründen im Interview nicht nennen werden, stattdessen stellen wir ihn einfach als Mister Secret vor.
Herr Secret, vor welchen Herausforderungen wird die NSA gestellt?«
»Nun, als wir hier anfingen, wussten wir noch nicht wie viele Terroristen und Deutsche ihre Nachrichten codieren. Wir brauchen dafür extra ausgebildete Fachkräfte, die der amerikanischen Wirtschaft ein Vermögen kosten.«
»Können sie uns da einige Codierungen zeigen?«
»Natürlich. Hier sieh dir das an: „Bis später, Süße. LG“, wobei „LG“ für Lagerterroristenbombengarage steht.«
»Es könnte jedoch auch „liebe Grüße“ bedeuten.«
»Bist du etwa auch einer dieser H
Winged AngelWinged Angel1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
He was nice
kind to heart
One of the best
Saving his friends
Hopping there safe
like it never did
Quite all emotions
He's very calm
and easy to words
Fighting the dark
Escaping the past
Something traps him
Person to be
A true him
One winged Angel
Fighting his might
To be free
Not take over
blocking the truth
as the lies
making him believe
Something to change
His whole life
the puppy finds out
Discovers the truth
Fighting his friends
Even his close ones
Hurts him more
One winged Angel
Stares at him
Behind it all
Yelling to run
Not to hurt him
nor his friends
Did the job
He wasn't ready
All the bonds
Wishes he wasn't
Memories fadeI had a memoryMemories fade1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a time
different from now
I watched it
through the past
till it eventually
Chapter 4: Selma's diaryWhen Lara regained conciousness, she felt her head hammering and her eyes were cloudy. She tried to sit up, but then she felt dizzy and collapsed, falling back onto the pillow.Chapter 4: Selma's diary4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
- It would be better if you don't move. - she heard Kurtis' voice.
He was squatted in a corner of the tunnel.
He had lit a little bonfire and was cooking something that didn't smell very good. She saw four corpse shapes on the corner.
- That thing you're cooking isn't what I think, is it?- Lara whispered, putting her hands over her eyes.
- Manticore's flesh. he said- The only antidote for its own poison.
Kurtis approached and offered her a piece of grey flesh. Lara felt sick.
- I'm not going to eat that. - she said, obstinate I'm better. I'm not going to die.
- Maybe. - he said But you will be blind in two hours.
Lara growled and put the flesh into her mouth. Fortunately, despite its horrible appearance, manticores tasted like chicken.
She fell asleep inmediately.
Kurtis got up and
Die Rolle meines LebensFast alles ist nur Schall und Rauch.Die Rolle meines Lebens9 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bei mir und bei den andern auch.
Verkleiden uns und spielen Rollen,
selbst wenn wir sie nur ungern wollen.
Doch taug ich nicht zum Regisseur.
Bin nur Statist, ein Amateur.
Denn manche haben mehr Talent,
im Schauspiel, das sich Leben nennt.
MaskenballWie geht's dir heute, alles klar?Maskenball9 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bin einsam, traurig und verloren.
Ach wär ich doch nur nie geboren.
Ich fühl mich heut ganz wunderbar!
Und selber soweit alles gut?
Ich müsst mich für die Wahrheit schämen.
Will lieber nur mich selber grämen.
Ja, immer doch und absolut!
Glückliche Mienen überall.
Doch ist es nur ein Maskenball.
The Return of Kurtis Trent: 15FifteenThe Return of Kurtis Trent: 157 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Time was dragging nastily and Lara was beginning to break out in a hot flush. The sun was now at the midpoint in the sky and the heat was immense. Haze surrounded her eyes and she was desperate for a drink of water. At first she thought she was hallucinating, but as she came closer to what she thought appeared to be a crossroads, her vision cleared and she stopped a couple of inches from the road. She could either go straight ahead, or left or right. She shut off the engine and looked at the time. It had been three hours since shed called Max and there was still no sign of rescue. She was about to give up all hope when in the far distance she could hear what sounded like chopper blades. Lara stepped out of the jeep and climbed onto the roof, taking her binoculars from her backpack. She inspected every inch of the sky but could see nothing, and thought that perhaps she was dehydrating from lack of fluids. She climbed into the back seat to check on Kurtis condition an
neo-Freudian idealsin 1886, Sigmund Freud employed free association;neo-Freudian ideals1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the idea that a sick patient, terminally crippled with a nameless plague,
could list off the reasons why his bed sheets had holes in them.
paraphrased: the art of free speech.
my mouth is a gun and your name is a shooting range.
damp grass, our backs, semantics.
the psychoanalysts say we establish long-term memory
by stringing it all with prior meaning.
a flurry of sweatshirts and ripped jeans, stroking skin
in sign language only lovers speak.
hands, tongue, everything else.
Freud said that sometimes, a cigar is only a cigar.
i tell him how smoke spilled from your mouth into mine.
stale breath and gentle fingers probing, squeezing,
i trace my steps back to the night we crushed leaves into potpourri.
the scent of cold coffee permeated into the forest,
the tree roots soaking up our caffeine.
i remember you most clearly in the heartbeat between page turns.
you are full and real, the lump in my throat.
you are the holes in
Plant/ F Tickling Story. Lara Tickled In TempleThis Lara Croft will be based off of the Alison Caroll model;Plant/ F Tickling Story. Lara Tickled In Temple1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
http://www.thegamecodex.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/Alison-Carroll-Lara-Croft-10.jpeg Btw, I love her
Hope you guys and gals enjoy!
Hack! Hack! Slash! Slash! The sounds of a machete chopping thick plants filled the air of an unexplored rainforest located in South America.
Lara Croft had been exploring this jungle for 3 hours trying to find an abandon temple she had been warned about by local villagers. Lara had asked the village priest why she should avoid the temple.
The priest had warned her; "I promise traveler, the values inside are not worth the curse that temple holds."
As Lara was leaving the building, an middle aged woman grabbed her arm, Lara spun around.
"Please!" The woman said, her wrinkly face looking in Lara’s beautiful brown eyes. “I need your help!”
“What is it?” Lara asked, looking down at the woman.
“It’s my granddaughter, she’s gott
Die Nacht im WaldHier ein Flüstern, dort ein Knistern,Die Nacht im Wald11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
oftmals nur ein leises Wispern,
das der Wind trägt durch die Nacht.
Der Tag geht schlafen, wir sind erwacht.
In der Nachte magisch Königreich,
schleichen Schatten schlangengleich.
Es lauern Alpträume in dunklen Räumen,
Nachtmare hinter schwarzen Bäumen.
Mit schrillem Schrei erklingt die Eule
und auch das finster böse Wolfsgeheule,
du wünschest dir nichts, als Totenstille,
doch das ist nicht unser Wille!
Schwarzer Schemen Schattentanz,
überreiche uns den Siegeskranz.
Wir haben dich in unsrer Macht,
über dich herrscht nur - die Nacht!
Nacht und Angst, das Künstlerpaar,
malen Bilder schrecklich sonderbar,
in deine Seele sie sich brennen.
Du musst schreien! - und nicht rennen...
We AreWe are breathingWe Are1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
your lips part
and my chest
your heart beats
and my blood
your eyes open
and I see.
the world moves
a million things
to show you,
to give you,
and a million things
to do with you...
moonlight on water,
hips and hands
rolling in fluid movements,
as we slow dance
until the sky
becomes another part
of fingers lacing,
through gentle pressure,
and lasts and lasts
as soon as it ends.
the fear of the unknown,
what is right
of what is easy,
give my hands
and you know
are never alone
We are rising
your hands touch
and my skin
your hips roll
and my body
your love burns
and my everything
Forget LoveYou got me excited,Forget Love2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I can't deny it.
You told me yes,
But was it in jest?
I waited a while for you to call,
But you never talked at all.
I asked to be with you,
But the words you said colored me blue.
You plunged a dagger into my heart,
And that small wound tore it apart.
I want nothing to do with you or love anymore!
What you did shook me to my core.
I want nothing to do with love anymore...
Interview | JayINTERVIEW YOUR CHARACTERInterview | Jay2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Choose an original character you have created. All questions must be answered from the character's perspective. The character should remain "in character" throughout the interview. The character may refuse to answer a given question, but must say something in reply to it. The character must answer truthfully, but that does not necessarily mean that their answers must be true, only that the character believes them to be true. Have fun.
CHARACTER: Jay Iera (21st Century, pre-meeting Cassy)
SETTING: Parallel world, save for the existence of cryptids and ‘magic’ (sciences yet unexplained by humans)
. VITAL STATISTICS
. ABILITIES AND TRAITS
. HISTORY AND INFLUENCES
. PERSONAL TASTES AND OPINIONS
. SELF IMAGE
. KEY SOCIAL INFLUENCE
. GOALS AND DREAMS
1: What is your full
one.you told me that lifeone.7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
was full of
why do my
Chapter 3: ManticoresCappadocia was a dry region, almost a desert, which was outstanding for the exceptional beauty of its rock formations. Lara did not find a soul in the wilderness (fortunately, she thought) and she took three seconds to slip into the excavation and crawl through the tunnel. And at the end of it... the discover.Chapter 3: Manticores4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Nephilim necropolis was structured in continuous circular chambers, each of them had twenty niches containing a globular structure of stone, containing a Nephilim.
Selma's team had undergone a careful drilling in order to allow seeing inside the "sarcophagus". Nothing to do with the bungling of someone like Howard Carter and Heinrich Schliemann... archaeology was now more advanced, and Lara, avoiding touching them, looked into the holes and watched those creatures, lying on their final resting place.
The Nephilim were tall, lanky, rather. Their remains were only a few somewhat human skeletons with strips of skin... they were dead, and surely had been killed after bei
A Layer Comes OffIt's smells more than crap in here. This cell is just a 10X10 square of crap.A Layer Comes Off5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The bed feels like sharp rocks...frankly the toilet is disturbing.
I'm laying on the bed trying to entertain myself with my thoughts wondering what the bat is up to, missing my knives...wondering about Harlene..
Now the petite blond plagues my thoughts now and then but only because my curiosity gets the better of me. I just know there's more to her then what she lets everyone see and I'm more than willing to see the real Dr. Quinzel.
"Come on freak show! Your session starts now"
The oh so nice guard grabs me by the arm and shoves me out of my cell. I'm cuffed and escorted into the small session room where Harlene sits...her legs crossed, her skirt hiking up just enough to show off that creamy skin of hers...mhm all for me.
"Good morning Mr.J how are you feeling today?"
I snicker and take a sit opposite of her. "Me? Well taking that my 'neighbor' never shut up and some guy started screaming at 4 i
Highly Sensitive PeopleThe first human job sharing might have been into shaman and non-shaman, with other words: HSP and non-HSP. The earliest task of a shaman or High Sensitive were probably the observation, interpretation and influencing of nature. It was HSPs who recognized the relations between man and nature, observed the weather cycles and interpreted the most favourable time for cultivation, harvesting or chasing. They were mediators between mankind and the non-human or godly world and thus some kind of a primeval priest. The conjuration of natural demons by self-created images with the help of rhythms and plastic models and the creation of communication with the higher powers could be considered as beginnings of ceremony and art. Besides the priesthood, HSPs also dominated the domain of art and science. Further traditional responsibilities of High Sensitives were the tradition and archives. In addition, HSPs often were competent in healing and health, the wholeness and life-help. Another resort was tHighly Sensitive People3 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Last sessionWhat can you do when the thing your most infatuated with is the most terrible monster in the world?Last session5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
What do you do when all you dream about are a pair of slender legs wrapped around you waist?
Do you give in? Do you run away scared? Or do you stay and see what happens?
All you can hear is the sound of heals walking down a long corridor making their way to a room.
A room where all these questions will be answered.
A room where a hungry monster awaits.
To devour a prey he has been watching for so long.
She opens the door and closes it behind her. Her eyes connect with his, suddenly the tension is visible and all she can do is hold her ground.
Silence. Only the sound a scratching chair is herd when it's moved by her, calmly she sits her eyes never leaving his dark ones.
He licks his lips awaiting her to begin.
"Good morning...how are you feeling today?"
He chews on the inside of his scars, his eyes cold and calculating.
"I'm feeling perfect Harlene...just prefect"
Her eyes keep calm, she
Die VerwandlungAls Herr K. eines Morgens aus unruhigen Träumen erwachte, fand er sich vollkommen unverändert in seinem Bett wieder.Die Verwandlung6 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Ein wenig enttäuscht stand er auf, ging zu dem kleinen Spiegel an der Wand hinüber und schaute in das bereits leicht blinde Spiegelglas. K. seufzte. Dieser Anblick hatte ihm noch nie sonderliche gefallen, aber trotzdem betrachtete er das matte und traurige Bild an jedem Morgen aufs Neue.
Irgendwann würde jemand anders zurückblicken, und dieser jemand würde lächeln.
The nature of inspirationWhen was the last timeThe nature of inspiration3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You heard the word 'erection' in poetry?
I think it was a while back
Between the pages
I mean "humans" don't even play
Or just rise to the thirteen year old tree-house
Inside us all
Where politeness is a foul facade
And we aren't afraid of our fingers.
We prioritise the silhouettes
The way pressing pen into paper
Made us so
And out of
Inspiration isn't a pretty, pristine river...
And it's about time we became
It's about time
We let up
And let it
Burn us up
Turn us on
Turn us up
Our wobbly bits
Into an aphrodisiac
So if there's any P.S.
Poetry can teach you
the word 'erection'.