My douible monitor in windows by levhita on DeviantArt

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

i despise me a floggin watermark (but not only me)

if you post-process, beyond a cosmetic degree, AI imagery that you've prompted, feel content to use a watermark as desired (as much as i and others consider them unprofessional when gracing not-for-sale work); should post-processing, however, consist of only cosmetic alteration, please leave off with the watermark.. too much of the species remains in such work, and they deserve to witness that unbesmirched imposition?: #ImageNaziAtLargeBeginFlameWar moar likely: #ImageNaziPokesRemainInsufficientToStirHornetsFromSleep the unmentioned implication of the above is that AI images blessed by no more than cosmetic alteration should not only persist sans watermark, but shouldn't even be up for sale #PokePokePokePokeZZZZZ notwithstanding lethargy, persistently remaining: CAMP resist-most-urges-to-non-cosmetically-alter-AI-imagery #TheBlackBoxSuffices VS. CAMP i-am-artiste-and-do-as-i-please-TYVM #SpeciesHathNothingOverMe tony said "dayam" camus said "provocation seems to have

Literature

The Cost of Remembering

It still hurts. I want to say that clearly because people get the wrong idea about healing. They think it means the pain stops. It doesn’t. The first time I ever sat down and told the full story of my brother’s death, my hands were shaking. I typed it out and then I was terrified to read the words I had written out. Terrified to see my own life reflected back at me. Terrified that what I’d been carrying for all those years would look as heavy from the outside as it felt from the inside. It did. And I cried. And then I couldn’t wait to write more. That’s the part nobody warns you about. The relief doesn’t cancel the pain. It exists alongside it. You feel both at the same time. The unburdening and the breaking. The freedom of finally saying it and the weight of hearing it said. I used to go to the bathroom at work after reading my own chapters. I’d stand in there for a few minutes and just let it come. Then I’d wash my face, walk back to the floor, and finish my shift. Nobody knew.

Literature

The Strange One on the Train

[DEVIATION] XLIX. The Strange One on the Train Riding the train to Widecombe, Mrs. Stallwarth finds herself relentlessly harassed by a male passenger until a strange looking man suddenly intervenes. The speaker was an intense looking fellow, long faced, dressed all in black, with his black hair hanging limply from his head, as though he’d come in from the rain. There was no rain, however. “Look here,” the first man protested, “don’t come and interfere with me. I’m having a polite conversation.” The newcomer lifted the rude passenger up by the collar and pulled him into the aisle: “A conversation needs two sides, go where you are wanted.” He gave the rude one a push, who then backed off a couple of steps, but managed to right himself before the motion of the rail car could knock him to the floor. He glared at the black haired stranger, yet he had no more to say, and he turned and left. “Thank you,” Mildrid said. “The fellow would not take the hint.” “I had that impression. Anyone can

Suggested Deviants

Lucas1996Garcia

Literature

Prologo (Parte 1)

Prólogo. ''Anónima del fango. Las horas a la noticia se tornaron aún mas fantasmales que antes, los rostros de mis compañeros delata tal afirmación. Todavía no logramos convencernos del ataque que sufrimos hace cuatro días. Ellos. Yo siquiera logro convencerme de que esta guerra comenzó hace ya tres años y que fue ayer que sentí la calidez del triste adiós de mejillas temblorosas, hijos y esposa al pie de una puerta deteriorada. La casa, mi única herencia, desapareciendo detrás del montón de cascos y armas que llevamos a cuestas. Todos nos tornábamos confiados al principio, podíamos con ellos. Y luego, luego. Para entonces no conocíamos a...

Literature

El ''Valerie''

-El ''Valerie''- Una mañana se dirigió a mi cuarto y me despertó diciendo: -¡Ponte tus cosas! ¡Apresúrate o se nos escapara!… Sin preguntar nada me puse mis botas, un saco sobre el pijama y ambos salimos corriendo. En eso me detengo. -¿Y papá y mamá? -Hablé con ellos, dijeron no querer venir por el cansancio. Quieren quedarse durmiendo. ¿Y tu hermano? -Taylor está en la casa de su... nueva novia o algo así. -Genial entonces puede que nos lo crucemos más tarde. -¿Pero a donde vamos? -Clama muchacho, ya verás. El abuelo toma la bicicleta y monta en ella. Antes de que pudiese decir nada, ya se había ido. Tomé otra apoyada en el cobertizo y lo...

Literature

Hermano - ''El Firmamento Azul'' (Parte 3)

Se escucharon sucesivas ordenes, por todos lados y las flechas de fuego salieron al unisonó, en bandadas descomunales se precipitaron como una avalancha candente, directamente hasta la masa flotante de asesinos. Para cuando estas tocaron el agua, una inmensa bola de fuego pareció surgir desde lo más profundo de los abismos. Como si se hubiese abierto una ventana desde los más aterradores mundos del oeste lejano, el fuego devoró prácticamente en segundos la cabeza de legiones salvajes. Desde los que nadaban, hasta los que flotaban sobre troncos o sobre balsas humanas. Todos se consumían, bajo el rugir de las llamas que era subrayado por el ...

monstruomamado117

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 2

Día 2 La mañana llegó sin pedir permiso, entrando por las rendijas de las cortinas con esa luz blanca y pesada del Estado de México. Nancy ya estaba activa desde el primer rayo: vestida con una camisa sin mangas ajustada, shorts de mezclilla y sus botas negras bien firmes, como quien se prepara para domar el día. Miguel se había ido antes que el café. Su deber como policía federal no entendía de desvelos cósmicos ni de resacas de pozole. Nancy estaba de rodillas en la sala, gateando junto a los muebles. — A ver… ¿dónde te metiste ahora, traviesa…? —se asomó debajo del sillón—. Nada. Miró hacia el clóset del pasillo. Silencio absoluto. Entrecerró los ojos con una mezcla de cariño y frustración. — No me hagas buscarte en los lugares incómodos, que luego te pones de malas. En la habitación contigua, el ambiente era muy distinto. Loto dormía con la elegancia de una matriarca, boca arriba y con el rostro relajado. Jade estaba hecha una bolita contra el costado de su madre, buscando el

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1

Día 1 Las ruedas golpearon el asfalto con un impacto seco. Una sacudida, luego otra, y el avión empezó a vibrar mientras los motores rugían en reversa para domar la inercia. Afuera, el sol de Ciudad de México no pedía permiso. Era una luz cruda, brillante y pesada, muy distinta a la claridad filtrada y húmeda de Japón. El letrero de la cabina se iluminó con un parpadeo familiar: Bienvenidos a México. De inmediato, el caos doméstico estalló. Pasajeros levantándose en masa, el estrépito de los compartimentos superiores abriéndose y el golpe sordo de las maletas cayendo. Y, mezclados entre la multitud humana, los zorros. Eran demasiados. Loto los veía por todas partes: colas ocultas bajo ilusiones mal tejidas que flaqueaban con el cansancio del viaje, orejas moviéndose con una ansiedad eléctrica. Intentaban actuar como turistas convencionales, pero fallaban colectivamente en una exhibición de rigidez y sospecha. Loto avanzó por el pasillo con su termo de té en la mano, imperturbable.

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1 epilogo

Las alarmas finalmente callaron. Los vecinos, tras un último intercambio de insultos domésticos, regresaron a sus cuevas de concreto. El silencio volvió a reclamar la colonia, solo interrumpido por el eco lejano de un perro que se negaba a rendirse. Nancy cerró la ventana con un suspiro de resignación. — Dramáticos… —murmuró, sacudiendo la cabeza. Se acomodó un mechón de cabello azabache detrás de la oreja. La sala volvió a quedar en esa penumbra azulada donde las sombras parecen tener peso. Y ahí, sobre la mesa, estaba el machete. Siempre el machete. Lo sostuvo con ambas manos, sintiendo el frío del acero gastado. La hoja, a pesar de los años, reflejó sus ojos azul celeste con una nitidez sobrenatural. Por un instante, el papel tapiz de la sala se desvaneció. El olor a pozole fue sustituido por el hedor a asfalto mojado y basura. Se vio a sí misma hace seis años. Era una versión de ella que casi no reconocía: más delgada, más pequeña, con los pies descalzos y llagados. Llevaba un

Cinco-Elementos

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 5::.

Aquella mañana era cálida, los dorados rayos del sol se colaban entre las acolchonadas nubes e iluminaban las calles de Puebla, las cosas apuntaban a que sería un día agradable. Aunque muchas veces las cosas no son lo que aparentan. Leo se encontraba caminando por la plaza. Su abuela lo había mandado desde temprano al mercado por despensa para hacer el desayuno. - Galletas, 1 kilo de zanahorias, 1 lechuga, una bolsa de arroz... - Dijo para si mismo mientras tachaba lo mencionado de la pequeña lista que había hecho antes de salir de casa, sabía que si no lo apuntaba lo olvidaría. - Todo listo. -. Mientras caminaba de regreso a la panadería iba inmerso en sus pensamientos, tratado de recordar si olvidaba algo cuando el sonido de una guitarra lo sacó de sus pensamientos, no hacía falta preguntar, sabía bien de quien se trataba. Miró en dirección al sonido del instrumento para encontrarse con el pelinegro de piel morena quien deleitaba a algunas personas con su talento, en su mayoría

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 21::.

"12 de Julio de 1763. Mamá, papá. No saben cuanto los extraño, cuanto añoro tenerlos aquí conmigo, cuanto deseo beber una vez más uno de esos ricos tés que mamá hacía para mi cuando me sentía mal, o las tardes de trabajo junto a papá. Los echo tanto de menos. Esos recuerdos no solo los llevo en la memoria, si no también, en el corazón. Esta es la primera carta que escribo y a pesar de que sé que jamás las podrán leer, espero quizá, con esperanza una respuesta. Aún así no puedo quejarme, y apuesto que ustedes tampoco. Una de las chicas que hace la limpieza me dijo que ahora ustedes viven mucho mejor que antes, papá ya esta mejor, me dijo que casi se ha curado totalmente y tu mamá, ya no tienes que lavar ajeno para sacar algo extra para poder cenar. No se vayan a ofender, ustedes saben que los adoro, pero algo que extraño casi tanto como a ustedes... es vivir en el campo, libre, no me importaba que no tuviéramos dinero, que yo estuviera descalza, no me importaba ni siquiera irme sin

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 32::.

- Mano, no la mueles, ... - Exclamo leo con un poco de miedo y frustración al ver que un inminente castigo venia a el, por mano de su propia novia. La pelinegra guardo silencio unos momentos, cuando una sonrisita, no sabia si era sarcástica o maliciosa, se dibujo en sus labios. - Gracias gato, Lo guardare por aqui, ...- Xóchitl, tomo el cinturon y lo coloco en la mesita. Leo, solto un suspiro de alivio al ver como su novia había dejado por la paz, el asunto del cinturón. - Un placer, ... Ignoren que estoy aqui y sigan con sus cosas, ... Piensen que soy una almohada más, ... - Comento santiago, con la voz un poco barrida y rara, era seguro que el sueño lo estaba venciendo. - Una almohada muy ruidosa, ... - Opino leo, con un poco de frustración. - Gracias, ... Pero no me siento comoda besando a leo sobre ti gato, ... – Explico Xóchitl, intentando no sonar grosera con el pobre muchacho pelinegro. - Ahora que lo pienso, ... ¿Tu no quieres descansar también leo? - - Prefiero pasar un rato

Suggested Collections

Stories from my island friend

Literature

17: Year 1 After the Deaths: To the Isle of Berra!

12 November Dear Future, this smashing day began with a shout. “Wake up, wake up, wake up! Weather is perfect.” We jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. Mum was right: the sky was dressed up in light blue, with a few threads of clouds, just for decoration. All the little birds were chirping as if it were spring. Out! Barefoot, yeah! The sun was so magnificent we believed it was so warm for five glorious minutes. Then, we had to go back inside because we were dressed just as when we're in bed, which isn't that much. I got a little moody at breakfast because I knew Marge couldn't come with us to Berra. It's not too long from our secret island, but there's a stretch of open sea, which can get very choppy, and if I were to roll, she might get stuck inside and, we both could die easily. I explained it to her, and she barked in approval. I guess she isn't that eager on traveling by kayak. Either that or she's not that attached to me, or, it might also be she trusts in me

Literature

As It Is -35- Fear is Hate's Little Brother

Week 40 September 28-30 Year 1, Mon-Wed Dear Daniel, I'm writing today even though nothing so important has happened. But, not too much I need to focus at school. I want to do well. It's this funny thing, you start to care, you get better then you care even more, like a continuous feedback loop. Dear Daniel, I have another worry. It's about the past and what-I-did. Yeah, again, I know; thank you for bearing with me. I've told you and I believe it was most fear and panic when I pushed Miss Grant. But what if I hated her and I would rather not remember that, because it would be so difficult to accept? I look at evidence, my memories of what I did before and after. And I don't find hate. I find fear. But some people say that Fear is Hate's little bro. So, I'm a bit concerned. I might be worse than I ever thought. I haven't told the therapist about this. My grades might be coming soon and I'm just a little uneasy. Yet I don't know. October 1-4, Thu Dear Daniel, I

Literature

3. Little Squid, Marshal: Double face

Return, oh sparrow, to the Throne Room, through magic return to the time the sun rose upon Wangushan, in palace everything is quieter. Now fly to the corridor, fear not — you are invisible, inaudible, a wisp of air. Stop at the second room to the left, the door is ajar, jump inside. Who's resting on the carpet, half covered by a thin blanket that doesn't belong in this room? Ah yes, that's Little Squid; he hasn't dared to lay on a bed built for a prince. The headboard, made of the finest rosewood, and softly fragrant could be traded for two boys of his age and training. Ah, now the kid is waking up, see, his eyes are widening and then his head falls, briefly, only to stand up in a bolt. He walks around the immense room but doesn't dare to touch a thing, he leaves the blinders alone, and looks through them to the city which is now his to protect or die trying? What madman put that responsibility in his adolescent hands? The Chosen of Heaven, His Imperial Majesty, we must

tg cd sissy stories

Literature

Dolly's Spa Day

By: D. R. Nyan-chanAmidst the heavy rain, a black limo rolled up to one of the newest spas in town: Green and White, What a Sight. The entire building was painted in the vertical stripes of its namesake and its reputation was shrouded in mystery.*fwoop*A large, black lace umbrella unfurled from the back door and a tuxedo-clad man in his early twenties with short, brown hair stiffly and sluggishly stepped out. After a few seconds of him staring straight ahead with his blank, green eyes, the chauffer asked, “Is everything okay, sir?”“B-bill?” the man mumbled in a far-off fashion.“Really? Well I hate to ruin the moment. Are you sure you d...

Literature

Prison Swap - tg

March 2nd 1954,My older sister Betsy, has just been convicted of bank robbery for the third time, and she's only 22, the first time she was underage, so she got a probationary term, her boyfriend Jack, took the blame, while he was in prison, my sister visited him most weekends.The second time was when she turned 20, I'm pretty sure Jack put her up to it, of course she went to a women's prison, they gave her a 5 yr sentence, she got out in 2 yrs for good behaviour, what a joke, within 6 months she was at it again, that's where we find ourselves today.The prisons in the Fifties weren't like the prisons of today, especially for women, they we...

Literature

Be My Model Pt 3

Mike couldn't take his eyes off "Emily" Mrs T had decided to take them to the new restaurant in the mall then maybe let the three of them wander around and she would pick them up later, As they sat down to eat Mike pulled out Emily's chair, for her to sit down, Mandy just winked at Peter, "Thank you" said Peter, in his new found girls voice, Mandy whispered to Peter to just order what she ordered and not the enormous amount he was used to eating, she ordered a small chicken salad, which made it easier for Peter to say "Yes, Me too"Mike ordered the jumbo burger as Peter looked on enviously, After dinner Mrs T came through on her promise to ...

Writing

Literature

Seashell

On the seashore there lay, A white seashell in the sand, A traveler who lost his way, Picked it up with his hand. He placed it upon his ear, For he knew it held the key, To that which he held dear, A song to break him free. And he heard the ocean roar, The sound coming from inside, The spirit flowing in his core, Lifting the earth with the tide. He put the shell back down, Looking beyond the blue, Burying his fears to drown, In the everlasting truth of you.

Literature

Horror Story.

'Shhh' The guy placed one finger on his girlfriend's lips. "There's one right over the pickup truck" he whispered looking concerned. She looked at the truck. There was something indeed. "We have to move right now babe" she whispered. He kept his gaze on the creature and nodded. "He will smell us!" She added. He was thinking and looking quickly around while remaining still. A salty drop fell off her head and disappeared in the soil as soon it touched it. "Hot" he whispered out. She nodded. "We should try to go there" she whispered and pointed in the direction of an old barn. He looked at the pointing finger, then he looked at her and said "Are you sure? He's right there, he might smell us" he whispered Then he added "The fuckin wind could be on our side for once" As the man let those words out, the air took a slow pause, momentarily it stopped. The girl's eyes met the partner's gaze. Both felt it. It was the moment, the now! Both nodded in unison and stood

Literature

The Cinematics of Dreams

I find it fascinating how detailed dreams can be. Entire locations and people can be seen That do not exist outside of the mind And cease to be once a person wakes up. Dreams are usually in a first-person perspective But sometimes there are pans and aerial shots So that the dreamer can get a good look at the location. Sometimes the dreamer loses interaction and can only watch what is happening. These are scenes that are only viewed once, Then become like lost films Only ever watched by one person Without any ability to record the movie. A person can probably write down what they remember But they will still be unable to depict exactly what they saw, Even with an excellent memory for details. It is difficult to fully capture a vision in written form. The human mind is an incredible thing. It can create places and people that have never been seen before And yet might seem familiar to the dreamer. Artificial intelligence could not replicate that.

More by levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/GNU-Linux-25517509levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Solitude-25735539levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Grass-Texture-25331482levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Having-fun-18039529levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/light-fast-bus-17857129levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Grupo-Linux-de-Occidente-25514264levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Stop-17854047levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Any-given-day-in-Guadalajara-18004202levhita

levhita on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/levhita/art/Free-Software-Festival-18027047levhita

Promoted Deviations

Literature

i despise me a floggin watermark (but not only me)

if you post-process, beyond a cosmetic degree, AI imagery that you've prompted, feel content to use a watermark as desired (as much as i and others consider them unprofessional when gracing not-for-sale work); should post-processing, however, consist of only cosmetic alteration, please leave off with the watermark.. too much of the species remains in such work, and they deserve to witness that unbesmirched imposition?: #ImageNaziAtLargeBeginFlameWar moar likely: #ImageNaziPokesRemainInsufficientToStirHornetsFromSleep the unmentioned implication of the above is that AI images blessed by no more than cosmetic alteration should not only persist sans watermark, but shouldn't even be up for sale #PokePokePokePokeZZZZZ notwithstanding lethargy, persistently remaining: CAMP resist-most-urges-to-non-cosmetically-alter-AI-imagery #TheBlackBoxSuffices VS. CAMP i-am-artiste-and-do-as-i-please-TYVM #SpeciesHathNothingOverMe tony said "dayam" camus said "provocation seems to have

Literature

The Cost of Remembering

It still hurts. I want to say that clearly because people get the wrong idea about healing. They think it means the pain stops. It doesn’t. The first time I ever sat down and told the full story of my brother’s death, my hands were shaking. I typed it out and then I was terrified to read the words I had written out. Terrified to see my own life reflected back at me. Terrified that what I’d been carrying for all those years would look as heavy from the outside as it felt from the inside. It did. And I cried. And then I couldn’t wait to write more. That’s the part nobody warns you about. The relief doesn’t cancel the pain. It exists alongside it. You feel both at the same time. The unburdening and the breaking. The freedom of finally saying it and the weight of hearing it said. I used to go to the bathroom at work after reading my own chapters. I’d stand in there for a few minutes and just let it come. Then I’d wash my face, walk back to the floor, and finish my shift. Nobody knew.

Literature

The Strange One on the Train

[DEVIATION] XLIX. The Strange One on the Train Riding the train to Widecombe, Mrs. Stallwarth finds herself relentlessly harassed by a male passenger until a strange looking man suddenly intervenes. The speaker was an intense looking fellow, long faced, dressed all in black, with his black hair hanging limply from his head, as though he’d come in from the rain. There was no rain, however. “Look here,” the first man protested, “don’t come and interfere with me. I’m having a polite conversation.” The newcomer lifted the rude passenger up by the collar and pulled him into the aisle: “A conversation needs two sides, go where you are wanted.” He gave the rude one a push, who then backed off a couple of steps, but managed to right himself before the motion of the rail car could knock him to the floor. He glared at the black haired stranger, yet he had no more to say, and he turned and left. “Thank you,” Mildrid said. “The fellow would not take the hint.” “I had that impression. Anyone can

Suggested Deviants

Lucas1996Garcia

Literature

Prologo (Parte 1)

Prólogo. ''Anónima del fango. Las horas a la noticia se tornaron aún mas fantasmales que antes, los rostros de mis compañeros delata tal afirmación. Todavía no logramos convencernos del ataque que sufrimos hace cuatro días. Ellos. Yo siquiera logro convencerme de que esta guerra comenzó hace ya tres años y que fue ayer que sentí la calidez del triste adiós de mejillas temblorosas, hijos y esposa al pie de una puerta deteriorada. La casa, mi única herencia, desapareciendo detrás del montón de cascos y armas que llevamos a cuestas. Todos nos tornábamos confiados al principio, podíamos con ellos. Y luego, luego. Para entonces no conocíamos a...

Literature

El ''Valerie''

-El ''Valerie''- Una mañana se dirigió a mi cuarto y me despertó diciendo: -¡Ponte tus cosas! ¡Apresúrate o se nos escapara!… Sin preguntar nada me puse mis botas, un saco sobre el pijama y ambos salimos corriendo. En eso me detengo. -¿Y papá y mamá? -Hablé con ellos, dijeron no querer venir por el cansancio. Quieren quedarse durmiendo. ¿Y tu hermano? -Taylor está en la casa de su... nueva novia o algo así. -Genial entonces puede que nos lo crucemos más tarde. -¿Pero a donde vamos? -Clama muchacho, ya verás. El abuelo toma la bicicleta y monta en ella. Antes de que pudiese decir nada, ya se había ido. Tomé otra apoyada en el cobertizo y lo...

Literature

Hermano - ''El Firmamento Azul'' (Parte 3)

Se escucharon sucesivas ordenes, por todos lados y las flechas de fuego salieron al unisonó, en bandadas descomunales se precipitaron como una avalancha candente, directamente hasta la masa flotante de asesinos. Para cuando estas tocaron el agua, una inmensa bola de fuego pareció surgir desde lo más profundo de los abismos. Como si se hubiese abierto una ventana desde los más aterradores mundos del oeste lejano, el fuego devoró prácticamente en segundos la cabeza de legiones salvajes. Desde los que nadaban, hasta los que flotaban sobre troncos o sobre balsas humanas. Todos se consumían, bajo el rugir de las llamas que era subrayado por el ...

monstruomamado117

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 2

Día 2 La mañana llegó sin pedir permiso, entrando por las rendijas de las cortinas con esa luz blanca y pesada del Estado de México. Nancy ya estaba activa desde el primer rayo: vestida con una camisa sin mangas ajustada, shorts de mezclilla y sus botas negras bien firmes, como quien se prepara para domar el día. Miguel se había ido antes que el café. Su deber como policía federal no entendía de desvelos cósmicos ni de resacas de pozole. Nancy estaba de rodillas en la sala, gateando junto a los muebles. — A ver… ¿dónde te metiste ahora, traviesa…? —se asomó debajo del sillón—. Nada. Miró hacia el clóset del pasillo. Silencio absoluto. Entrecerró los ojos con una mezcla de cariño y frustración. — No me hagas buscarte en los lugares incómodos, que luego te pones de malas. En la habitación contigua, el ambiente era muy distinto. Loto dormía con la elegancia de una matriarca, boca arriba y con el rostro relajado. Jade estaba hecha una bolita contra el costado de su madre, buscando el

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1

Día 1 Las ruedas golpearon el asfalto con un impacto seco. Una sacudida, luego otra, y el avión empezó a vibrar mientras los motores rugían en reversa para domar la inercia. Afuera, el sol de Ciudad de México no pedía permiso. Era una luz cruda, brillante y pesada, muy distinta a la claridad filtrada y húmeda de Japón. El letrero de la cabina se iluminó con un parpadeo familiar: Bienvenidos a México. De inmediato, el caos doméstico estalló. Pasajeros levantándose en masa, el estrépito de los compartimentos superiores abriéndose y el golpe sordo de las maletas cayendo. Y, mezclados entre la multitud humana, los zorros. Eran demasiados. Loto los veía por todas partes: colas ocultas bajo ilusiones mal tejidas que flaqueaban con el cansancio del viaje, orejas moviéndose con una ansiedad eléctrica. Intentaban actuar como turistas convencionales, pero fallaban colectivamente en una exhibición de rigidez y sospecha. Loto avanzó por el pasillo con su termo de té en la mano, imperturbable.

Literature

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1 epilogo

Las alarmas finalmente callaron. Los vecinos, tras un último intercambio de insultos domésticos, regresaron a sus cuevas de concreto. El silencio volvió a reclamar la colonia, solo interrumpido por el eco lejano de un perro que se negaba a rendirse. Nancy cerró la ventana con un suspiro de resignación. — Dramáticos… —murmuró, sacudiendo la cabeza. Se acomodó un mechón de cabello azabache detrás de la oreja. La sala volvió a quedar en esa penumbra azulada donde las sombras parecen tener peso. Y ahí, sobre la mesa, estaba el machete. Siempre el machete. Lo sostuvo con ambas manos, sintiendo el frío del acero gastado. La hoja, a pesar de los años, reflejó sus ojos azul celeste con una nitidez sobrenatural. Por un instante, el papel tapiz de la sala se desvaneció. El olor a pozole fue sustituido por el hedor a asfalto mojado y basura. Se vio a sí misma hace seis años. Era una versión de ella que casi no reconocía: más delgada, más pequeña, con los pies descalzos y llagados. Llevaba un

Cinco-Elementos

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 5::.

Aquella mañana era cálida, los dorados rayos del sol se colaban entre las acolchonadas nubes e iluminaban las calles de Puebla, las cosas apuntaban a que sería un día agradable. Aunque muchas veces las cosas no son lo que aparentan. Leo se encontraba caminando por la plaza. Su abuela lo había mandado desde temprano al mercado por despensa para hacer el desayuno. - Galletas, 1 kilo de zanahorias, 1 lechuga, una bolsa de arroz... - Dijo para si mismo mientras tachaba lo mencionado de la pequeña lista que había hecho antes de salir de casa, sabía que si no lo apuntaba lo olvidaría. - Todo listo. -. Mientras caminaba de regreso a la panadería iba inmerso en sus pensamientos, tratado de recordar si olvidaba algo cuando el sonido de una guitarra lo sacó de sus pensamientos, no hacía falta preguntar, sabía bien de quien se trataba. Miró en dirección al sonido del instrumento para encontrarse con el pelinegro de piel morena quien deleitaba a algunas personas con su talento, en su mayoría

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 21::.

"12 de Julio de 1763. Mamá, papá. No saben cuanto los extraño, cuanto añoro tenerlos aquí conmigo, cuanto deseo beber una vez más uno de esos ricos tés que mamá hacía para mi cuando me sentía mal, o las tardes de trabajo junto a papá. Los echo tanto de menos. Esos recuerdos no solo los llevo en la memoria, si no también, en el corazón. Esta es la primera carta que escribo y a pesar de que sé que jamás las podrán leer, espero quizá, con esperanza una respuesta. Aún así no puedo quejarme, y apuesto que ustedes tampoco. Una de las chicas que hace la limpieza me dijo que ahora ustedes viven mucho mejor que antes, papá ya esta mejor, me dijo que casi se ha curado totalmente y tu mamá, ya no tienes que lavar ajeno para sacar algo extra para poder cenar. No se vayan a ofender, ustedes saben que los adoro, pero algo que extraño casi tanto como a ustedes... es vivir en el campo, libre, no me importaba que no tuviéramos dinero, que yo estuviera descalza, no me importaba ni siquiera irme sin

Literature

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 32::.

- Mano, no la mueles, ... - Exclamo leo con un poco de miedo y frustración al ver que un inminente castigo venia a el, por mano de su propia novia. La pelinegra guardo silencio unos momentos, cuando una sonrisita, no sabia si era sarcástica o maliciosa, se dibujo en sus labios. - Gracias gato, Lo guardare por aqui, ...- Xóchitl, tomo el cinturon y lo coloco en la mesita. Leo, solto un suspiro de alivio al ver como su novia había dejado por la paz, el asunto del cinturón. - Un placer, ... Ignoren que estoy aqui y sigan con sus cosas, ... Piensen que soy una almohada más, ... - Comento santiago, con la voz un poco barrida y rara, era seguro que el sueño lo estaba venciendo. - Una almohada muy ruidosa, ... - Opino leo, con un poco de frustración. - Gracias, ... Pero no me siento comoda besando a leo sobre ti gato, ... – Explico Xóchitl, intentando no sonar grosera con el pobre muchacho pelinegro. - Ahora que lo pienso, ... ¿Tu no quieres descansar también leo? - - Prefiero pasar un rato

Suggested Collections

Stories from my island friend

Literature

17: Year 1 After the Deaths: To the Isle of Berra!

12 November Dear Future, this smashing day began with a shout. “Wake up, wake up, wake up! Weather is perfect.” We jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. Mum was right: the sky was dressed up in light blue, with a few threads of clouds, just for decoration. All the little birds were chirping as if it were spring. Out! Barefoot, yeah! The sun was so magnificent we believed it was so warm for five glorious minutes. Then, we had to go back inside because we were dressed just as when we're in bed, which isn't that much. I got a little moody at breakfast because I knew Marge couldn't come with us to Berra. It's not too long from our secret island, but there's a stretch of open sea, which can get very choppy, and if I were to roll, she might get stuck inside and, we both could die easily. I explained it to her, and she barked in approval. I guess she isn't that eager on traveling by kayak. Either that or she's not that attached to me, or, it might also be she trusts in me

Literature

As It Is -35- Fear is Hate's Little Brother

Week 40 September 28-30 Year 1, Mon-Wed Dear Daniel, I'm writing today even though nothing so important has happened. But, not too much I need to focus at school. I want to do well. It's this funny thing, you start to care, you get better then you care even more, like a continuous feedback loop. Dear Daniel, I have another worry. It's about the past and what-I-did. Yeah, again, I know; thank you for bearing with me. I've told you and I believe it was most fear and panic when I pushed Miss Grant. But what if I hated her and I would rather not remember that, because it would be so difficult to accept? I look at evidence, my memories of what I did before and after. And I don't find hate. I find fear. But some people say that Fear is Hate's little bro. So, I'm a bit concerned. I might be worse than I ever thought. I haven't told the therapist about this. My grades might be coming soon and I'm just a little uneasy. Yet I don't know. October 1-4, Thu Dear Daniel, I

Literature

3. Little Squid, Marshal: Double face

Return, oh sparrow, to the Throne Room, through magic return to the time the sun rose upon Wangushan, in palace everything is quieter. Now fly to the corridor, fear not — you are invisible, inaudible, a wisp of air. Stop at the second room to the left, the door is ajar, jump inside. Who's resting on the carpet, half covered by a thin blanket that doesn't belong in this room? Ah yes, that's Little Squid; he hasn't dared to lay on a bed built for a prince. The headboard, made of the finest rosewood, and softly fragrant could be traded for two boys of his age and training. Ah, now the kid is waking up, see, his eyes are widening and then his head falls, briefly, only to stand up in a bolt. He walks around the immense room but doesn't dare to touch a thing, he leaves the blinders alone, and looks through them to the city which is now his to protect or die trying? What madman put that responsibility in his adolescent hands? The Chosen of Heaven, His Imperial Majesty, we must

tg cd sissy stories

Literature

Dolly's Spa Day

By: D. R. Nyan-chanAmidst the heavy rain, a black limo rolled up to one of the newest spas in town: Green and White, What a Sight. The entire building was painted in the vertical stripes of its namesake and its reputation was shrouded in mystery.*fwoop*A large, black lace umbrella unfurled from the back door and a tuxedo-clad man in his early twenties with short, brown hair stiffly and sluggishly stepped out. After a few seconds of him staring straight ahead with his blank, green eyes, the chauffer asked, “Is everything okay, sir?”“B-bill?” the man mumbled in a far-off fashion.“Really? Well I hate to ruin the moment. Are you sure you d...

Literature

Prison Swap - tg

March 2nd 1954,My older sister Betsy, has just been convicted of bank robbery for the third time, and she's only 22, the first time she was underage, so she got a probationary term, her boyfriend Jack, took the blame, while he was in prison, my sister visited him most weekends.The second time was when she turned 20, I'm pretty sure Jack put her up to it, of course she went to a women's prison, they gave her a 5 yr sentence, she got out in 2 yrs for good behaviour, what a joke, within 6 months she was at it again, that's where we find ourselves today.The prisons in the Fifties weren't like the prisons of today, especially for women, they we...

Literature

Be My Model Pt 3

Mike couldn't take his eyes off "Emily" Mrs T had decided to take them to the new restaurant in the mall then maybe let the three of them wander around and she would pick them up later, As they sat down to eat Mike pulled out Emily's chair, for her to sit down, Mandy just winked at Peter, "Thank you" said Peter, in his new found girls voice, Mandy whispered to Peter to just order what she ordered and not the enormous amount he was used to eating, she ordered a small chicken salad, which made it easier for Peter to say "Yes, Me too"Mike ordered the jumbo burger as Peter looked on enviously, After dinner Mrs T came through on her promise to ...

Writing

Literature

Seashell

On the seashore there lay, A white seashell in the sand, A traveler who lost his way, Picked it up with his hand. He placed it upon his ear, For he knew it held the key, To that which he held dear, A song to break him free. And he heard the ocean roar, The sound coming from inside, The spirit flowing in his core, Lifting the earth with the tide. He put the shell back down, Looking beyond the blue, Burying his fears to drown, In the everlasting truth of you.

Literature

Horror Story.

'Shhh' The guy placed one finger on his girlfriend's lips. "There's one right over the pickup truck" he whispered looking concerned. She looked at the truck. There was something indeed. "We have to move right now babe" she whispered. He kept his gaze on the creature and nodded. "He will smell us!" She added. He was thinking and looking quickly around while remaining still. A salty drop fell off her head and disappeared in the soil as soon it touched it. "Hot" he whispered out. She nodded. "We should try to go there" she whispered and pointed in the direction of an old barn. He looked at the pointing finger, then he looked at her and said "Are you sure? He's right there, he might smell us" he whispered Then he added "The fuckin wind could be on our side for once" As the man let those words out, the air took a slow pause, momentarily it stopped. The girl's eyes met the partner's gaze. Both felt it. It was the moment, the now! Both nodded in unison and stood

Literature

The Cinematics of Dreams

I find it fascinating how detailed dreams can be. Entire locations and people can be seen That do not exist outside of the mind And cease to be once a person wakes up. Dreams are usually in a first-person perspective But sometimes there are pans and aerial shots So that the dreamer can get a good look at the location. Sometimes the dreamer loses interaction and can only watch what is happening. These are scenes that are only viewed once, Then become like lost films Only ever watched by one person Without any ability to record the movie. A person can probably write down what they remember But they will still be unable to depict exactly what they saw, Even with an excellent memory for details. It is difficult to fully capture a vision in written form. The human mind is an incredible thing. It can create places and people that have never been seen before And yet might seem familiar to the dreamer. Artificial intelligence could not replicate that.

Deviation Actions

i despise me a floggin watermark (but not only me)

The Cost of Remembering

The Strange One on the Train

Prologo (Parte 1)

El ''Valerie''

Hermano - ''El Firmamento Azul'' (Parte 3)

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 2

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1 epilogo

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 5::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 21::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 32::.

17: Year 1 After the Deaths: To the Isle of Berra!

As It Is -35- Fear is Hate's Little Brother

3. Little Squid, Marshal: Double face

Dolly's Spa Day

Prison Swap - tg

Be My Model Pt 3

Seashell

Horror Story.

The Cinematics of Dreams

i despise me a floggin watermark (but not only me)

The Cost of Remembering

The Strange One on the Train

Prologo (Parte 1)

El ''Valerie''

Hermano - ''El Firmamento Azul'' (Parte 3)

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 2

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1 epilogo

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 5::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 21::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 32::.

17: Year 1 After the Deaths: To the Isle of Berra!

As It Is -35- Fear is Hate's Little Brother

3. Little Squid, Marshal: Double face

Dolly's Spa Day

Prison Swap - tg

Be My Model Pt 3

Seashell

Horror Story.

The Cinematics of Dreams

My douible monitor in windows

Description

i despise me a floggin watermark (but not only me)

The Cost of Remembering

The Strange One on the Train

Prologo (Parte 1)

El ''Valerie''

Hermano - ''El Firmamento Azul'' (Parte 3)

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 2

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1

los pobres kitsunes en mexi-thulhu, dia 1 epilogo

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 5::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 21::.

.::La Leyenda del Charro Negro- Capitulo 32::.

17: Year 1 After the Deaths: To the Isle of Berra!

As It Is -35- Fear is Hate's Little Brother

3. Little Squid, Marshal: Double face

Dolly's Spa Day

Prison Swap - tg

Be My Model Pt 3

Seashell

Horror Story.

The Cinematics of Dreams