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stressedjenny

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tutorials

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TVXQ

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Warriors

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Literature

Graveyard

I’m going to the graveyard today, to bury all my hopes and dreams, Under the dirt is where I wanna be sometimes, (alright) Sometimes you get mad at me, And I hate it, I get upset and I hate it, The surface is an understatement, I wanna take you back to the past, Worse then this, I was an idiot, The Devil sled into my DM’s, he said here take this, Yea, take a hit of that, yea that’s how it all started, that’s how I got on the track, Depressing I just write like that- I’m going to the graveyard today, to bury all my hopes and dreams, Every single damn thing, Bury some bodies, sometimes, they don’t understand me, Not a single body, Remember praying for love, praying I’d find that one, I think I found her, I said that and they turn around and leave, Better keep my mouth shut and pray for a better being, Evil seeing, right through the lies, and bitch I’m still traumatized, Dealing with a fucked up life, sometimes gotta push that to side, Smile on the outside, You don’t know what I’m going

69 deviations

YoukaiYume

33 deviations

Graveyard by JDT25, literature

Literature

Graveyard

The Fairy Suitor by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

The Fairy Suitor

Each day, a fair young maiden A blacksmith’s comely daughter Was sent out to a forest stream To fill a pitcher with water Water lapping at her feet Sunshine on her tresses Weeds and reeds along the brook Tugging at her dresses Time and time again she’d stay Longer than she needed The warnings that her father gave Never had she heeded “Linger not beside the brook, For the folk who live there Would surely take you far away Without a second care.” The maid she didn’t listen, She liked it by the stream Where she watched the sunlight glisten As gold was wont to gleam There down by the stream there lived A member of the fairies The sort of whom a prudent maid Would do well to be wary Each day he watched her Coming to the stream Sighing and meandering In an absent dream He thought she was the loveliest Among the human folk So, he resolved to court her And take her for his own One day when she came fetching Before her he appeared He tried to reassure her That he need not be feared He

XXII. Marrow-fed Fire by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

XXII. Marrow-fed Fire

Eira bent to remove her shoes. She cut down Alaric’s hanging corpse, then she began to dance. She sang the song to rouse the dead, and quickly, Alaric’s body rose like a puppet on a string. As Eira danced around the clearing, she beckoned the corpse to follow suit. It did, a gruesome sight with its purple face still dressed in priestly garb. Eira giggled, and sang on as she twirled around the fire. As we dance around this fire Let this be a funeral pyre For the mother who died for me For the life that was not to be For all the lives my father stole For every act that damned his soul For deeds from which he can’t atone I offer up his flesh and bone! At these words, the corpse danced straight into the blazing fire, and immediately caught alight. It twisted and flailed in the flames, but did not move from them. As Eira watched, the flames consumed the corpse, reducing it to ash and bone fragments. She stopped dancing then, and threw dirt over the fire, dousing it. No one would find

XIV. Blood in Braille by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

XIV. Blood in Braille

Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Alaric went to visit Gwen one final time. For her impending execution, he wore white robes to show his purity and holiness. The irony made him chuckle as he unlocked the shed. Inside, he found Gwen slumped against the wall, sound asleep, with a faint smile on her face. Perhaps she was dreaming of more pleasant times. Then he noticed that she wasn’t holding the baby in her arms, as she usually was. He looked around. The shed was small, with no place to hide anything, even something as small as an infant. Where was the baby? The door had been locked, and he had the only key. Where could it have gotten to? He reached down and grasped Gwen’s shoulder, roughly shaking her awake. She opened her eyes and shook her head, before looking up at him inquisitively. “Where’s the baby?” Gwen blinked, then looked around, as if expecting to see it somewhere. When she didn’t, she grinned. How dare she. Alaric grabbed her other shoulder and shook

V. Dead Letters Bloom by CarpeVesperum, literature

IV. Psalms on Skin by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

IV. Psalms on Skin

Know ye not that the body is a sacred vessel? The LORD made us in His image; therefore, you must maintain that image in order to remain in his good graces. It is not enough to live free of sin, you must abhor bodily impurity as well. The world is filled with sin and filth, therefore, by virtue of living, the body becomes impure. The body must be made pure and holy, not only at birth, but prior to any sacrament. Only those ordained by the LORD are able to purify the bodies of the faithful, for only they themselves are pure in body and soul alike. Therefore, you must submit yourselves to the hands of the LORD’s anointed and allow him to administer these holy rites. By doing so, your flesh will be purified, and you will be made a holy vessel for the grace of the LORD.

III. Ashes Speak Names by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

III. Ashes Speak Names

Eira set the box on the chapel floor and opened it. The inside was full of ashes. She smirked. The fool ought to have cast the ashes to the wind. Then again, perhaps he’d been afraid of some magical accident happening where they landed. The ashes still gave off the hum of magic, and who knew what might happen to whatever they came in contact with. Maybe he’d even planned to come back someday. In any case, the ashes were present and intact, which suited Eira’s purposes perfectly. Eira pulled out a knife and made a small cut in her left thumb. She held her hand over the pile of ashes and let the blood drip down. As the drops of blood fell and mingled with the ash, Eira began to chant: Blood of the innocent, blood of the damned I offer up by my own hand Blood of the virgin, blood of the swine I lay claim to what is rightfully mine Blood of virtue, blood of sin This blood is life, which I grant again As she spoke the words, the ashes shifted on the ground and rearranged themselves. They

II. Spine-Stitched Gospel by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

II. Spine-Stitched Gospel

A little over a hundred people crowded into the little chapel. Ever since the old priest, Father Aven, had died, they had had no reason to come here. Many of them did not bother to come at all, even when the priest had been alive. Still, there were a good number of pious folks amongst them, and so when they heard that a new priest had arrived at their little village, many came out to see him. The man who stood before the assembled crowd was nothing like the former priest. Father Aven had been old in all senses, and had a face mapped by wrinkles and hair as white as dove feathers. This new priest couldn’t have been past twenty-five, with skin like marble and hair the color of a raven’s wing. His robe was crisp and new, freshly-dyed black that had not had time to grey with age as Father Aven’s had. Excited whispers stirred among the parishioners. No one ever expected the Church to send such a one as this to their little village, which was too small to boast a proper church at all. The

I. Chapel of Crows by CarpeVesperum, literature

Literature

I. Chapel of Crows

The small stone building had long fallen into disuse. How many years had it been since anyone had come inside to hear a sermon? Eira wasn’t sure, but it had clearly been a long time. The wind ruffled her dark hair as she looked around, searching for signs of life. The place was quiet, completely devoid of human activity. No one here but her, and the crows. They were everywhere. She hadn’t seen any in the village, what was left of it, anyway. There had been pigeons nesting in the eves and windowsill of the ruined houses, chickens roaming where they pleased now that there was no one to corral them, and ducks swimming in the creek that still ran alongside the town. But it seemed that all the crows had descended on the little chapel. They perched on the low stone wall that surrounded the churchyard, on the gravestones of those who had been buried there, on the branches of the yew tree that stood sentinel over it. They watched Eira with their glinting eyes, heads cocked in suspicion. Kraa

a natural DJ by Backjack-Kitsune, literature

Literature

a natural DJ

let me play for thee the honey sweet cords of natures melody. Let me take you for a ride a- cross the wild skies while showing off a more feral side, as the muses and lyres bring tears to your eyes, for let it be no surprise that the moment you hear the beat drop and her har -monious pop you can't help but feel like a frat girl who just can't keep on her top. Oh, I won't stop you from giving into the rhythmic blues of mothers favored tunes, please just show some respect for those who don't quite know how to get into the music and feel the groove, so let there be no need to prove you can move, for this parties for all and i make the rules

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