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Literature
Enter the Sector
“Where are you taking me?”
Imai stared out the car window at the rapidly passing landscape. When he answered, he sounded tired. “To the Sector.”
Eva’s posture remained stiff and formal in a vain attempt to not give away how frightened she was.
“Why do this?” she asked after a moment. “What could you possibly hope to gain by kidnapping me?”
Imai refused to look at her. “I can get into the Sector, but I can’t trust that I’ll be safe once I’m inside. They could blow the whole place up for all I know. And why wouldn’t they?” His fingers nervously twirled her father’s old ring. “If I have you, there’s no way they’ll do something like that.”
Not for the first time, Eva wondered what this man’s relationship with her father was. She tried to imagine him as a child, working for her father. She tried to imagine them as friends. She tried to imagine him being human.
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Literature
Kojemal
The last thing that Song says before Sun-Hee leaves home isn't anything spectacular. It's just--he's packing, and she sort of slides into his room and sits on his bed, curls in on herself, and watches. Sun-Hee hates that, hates that she watches him; it feels like he's breaking some critical, vital part of their family.
Halfway through packing, Song speaks up. "You're coming back, right, oppa?" she asks, resting her chin on her knees and watching him.
The problem with kids is that they know exactly how to break your heart with just one sentence. Sun-Hee folds a shirt very precisely, just to give himself a moment to compose himself. Finally he turns to face her.
"I don't know," he says, because it's sort of honest, and because he can't tell his younger sister that he'll probably never see her again.
Song looks mournful in a way that a four-year-old should never have to look. "But you love us, right?"
"Of course." It comes out a little more forceful than he intends, so Sun-Hee corrects hi
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Mature content
I Am Yours (This Is Not Love) :iconskylineprophet:SkylineProphet 0 0
Literature
Malak
Malak are creatures of divine starlight fit into the space between atoms. They are meant to be the mouthpieces of God-- a bridge between the terrible, ungraspable greatness of the Creator and the stumbling, fragile things that are humanity. And even then, they have to bend and fracture themselves so as not to shatter eardrums, burn eyes white and unseeing. They carry obliteration on the beating of their wings, and the touch of them is holy fire, ever burning. Simply put, they are //more//.
When Uza was first made to walk among men, he promptly dropped to his knees, every new atom of his stunted form screaming with the effort of keeping his vastness contained. He cried out and clawed at his new flesh in an attempt to feel divine again.
//You’re not very good at this, kinsman,// Gavri’l would say later, his hands slick with scales and cold blood as he dug out the fish’s innards, and Uza looked away, bile rising in his throat.
//This is not what I am//, he told the earth
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Literature
Childhood
She called him "child." She held him close to her breast, pressed her cheek against the top of his head; she crooned in her mother tongue that echoed familiarly within his ears and let her fingers comb slowly through his hair, and she called him a fucking child
But he had never been a child. Never. Never.
Children were not supposed to root through garbage bins for their nightly supper. Children were not supposed to be pressed down against silk and satin sheets, and children were not supposed to be forced to part their legs in anticipation of being violated irreparably. There were some damages that could never be healed.
Never.
Never.
Children were not supposed to stare into the mirror and wonder why their gaze looked so empty.
Children were not supposed to—
Children were not—
Children were.
He was not a child.
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Literature
Character Reference - Dimitri
Name: Dimitri Chevalier (Born: Yoska)
D.O.B.: September 15, 1873 (Location: London, England)
Ethnicity: Romani
Race: Visharii
Born to a poor Romani family in 19th century England, young Yoska suffered greatly in his childhood. After the death of his parents, he and his younger sister Tsura were taken in by a well-meaning but distant older couple.
To help provide for his family, Yoska turned to theft. It was on one such occasion that he made the acquaintance of a young nobleman named Israel. After catching the young boy in his attempted thievery, Israel kindly offered him a job, a way to make an honest days pay.
The two quickly became fast friends, and Dimitri grew to idolize Israel who had everything the young Romani boy could ever dream of.
When Yoska was 15, Israel left. Yoska was never able to say goodbye.
Enter the present day.
Now, Israel is back, and with a few surprises. He's a Tellurian, and an Emperor none the less. He's currently pressing
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Literature
Drive
It was an accident in the most literal sense.
He meant it to be a quick trip, a short drive to a local beach to celebrate. Jun is reluctant, but wasn't he always? Sure, they've been smoking, and sure they've had a couple drinks, but Zack is the best driver out of the group and they've done this a million times without ever so much as a speeding ticket, and--
"What's the big deal, Jun?"
And so Jun gets in the car, and smiles when Sunny grins at him even though he doesn't look like he's having fun.
"I thought you said it was just going to be the two of us?"
"It will be, I promise. They're just giving us a ride" and why does Jun care anyway? It's not as if they're a couple, although Sunny has tried several times to be just that, and each time Jun has—
"Watch it!"
The driver swerves back into his lane and everyone lets out a relieved breath.
Someone must have made a comment at Jun's expense, because now Jun is scowling and he turns to Sunny and—
"You promised you w
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Literature
Drunk
It's two a.m. and Malik is drunk; a little on leftover adrenaline—still running through his veins after his last brush with death—but mostly on alcohol. Dante does nothing to stop it. After all, Malik is a big boy. He can take care of himself.
"Hooooly shit, its long way down. Hey, check it out, old man! Betcha I'd splatter pretty far."
Well, maybe not.
They're on a balcony, and Malik is naked from the waist up, shirt deemed unsalvageable and discarded to the side. He's also bandaged, on his arm and on his side where a bullet caught him, just below his ribs. The wound is small, but magnified in Malik's movements, in the hesitance when he moves his right arm and the way he leans his weight on the railing. Dante is uninjured, though bloody. He, too, discards his shirt, tossing into the same pile with Malik's garments, destined to be incinerated.
"You're drunk," Dante observes, coming up behind Malik and resting on hand on the rail. He leans on it and looks out over the city, at
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Literature
Jump
The sky is dark and starless, littered with thick black clouds that threaten rain at any moment. Sunny's boots crunch against the cement as he carefully toes the building's edge. The wind whips the hair out of his face, giving him a clear view of his awaiting death.
He never imagined that he would find himself in this place, high above a faceless city. The sky rumbles in the distance, but the rain refuses to fall. Sunny thinks it's a shame, because he wants his death to be remembered, and all things considered this would be much more dramatic if it were raining.
If this were a movie, someone would have come looking for him by now. It's not like he made a show of hiding how upset he'd been these past few months, and it's not like they hadn't noticed. Sunny is sure they'll come soon. He peers down the sheer face of the building onto the streets below and tries to make out their forms in the crowded streets below.
Any second now he'll hear someone shout his name, and he'll turn to see his
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Literature
Death
No.
That was the first word that came to mind, the first word to actually register.
Lies.
And that was the second, as well as the third, the fourth and the fifth.
Lies. Lies. Lies. All lies.
Because they had to be. No other explanation made sense. He didn't want any other explanation to make sense. It simply couldn't; he wouldn't allow it to.
Denial.
It was the first mental defense against such things. He simply refused to accept it. Death was not a part of life, and he would not permit it to enter now.
He must have called several dozen times, called the house and cell phone of his lover, but all he received in return was a cheerful answering machine that encouraged him to leave a message. So he tried a more direct approach, driving to his home. The front door was locked, but it didn't matter. He kept a spare key, just as Shinichi had kept one to his apartment.
The house was empty, dark, silent, but it held a welcoming charm. Slowly, cautiously, he strolled
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Literature
Hide and Seek
Flanked by six soldiers, Israel strode purposefully to the front door of Dimitri's home. As he knocked his fist against the wood, he noticed the smell of smoke, and felt that the atmosphere was far too quiet. Something seemed wrong. When no one came to the door, he nodded to the soldier at his right, who quickly moved forward to open the door. The guardsmen entered the house cautiously, clearing the rooms they passed and staying in front of Israel protectively as he followed. At last they reached the living room, finding the Visharii sitting calmly in their chairs. Sebastian, curled up next to Laurelei on the couch, clung to his mother's arm, staring at the soldiers curiously. Tsura stood behind the chair that Dimitri sat on, her hand resting lovingly on his shoulder.
"Israel, how nice of you to stop by." Dimitri offered up a toothy grin. The room around him was in shambles, broken debris from furniture strewn about the floor. Israel looked over at the corner of the room, where a small
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Literature
Hangover
The first thing Sunny is aware of as he opens his eyes is the light pouring in through the window and the vicious pounding in his head. The events of the previous night are a drug-induced blur. He tries to piece together the fragmented bits of memory, but the headache makes it difficult to concentrate and so he gives up.
A soft sighing captures his attention, and that's when he notices the warmth of a body lying beside him. This is a common enough occurrence that at first he thinks nothing of it. It's not until the person rolls over that he even spares a glance. What he sees is not some faceless boy lying there amidst the sheets as usual. This time, it's a friend of his, and a woman none the less. The shock of this discovery sends him reeling, and he barely has time to stumble out of bed and into the bathroom before his stomach empties itself.
"Well, good morning, Sunshine,"  a voice calls.
Sunny shuffles back into the room and leans against the doorway. The woman is awake no
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Only Me. by SkylineProphet Only Me. :iconskylineprophet:SkylineProphet 3 5
Literature
Do You Want to Know?
As soon as the stranger appeared in his room, he knew.
The others had long since gone to bed, having had their fill of watching him scribble runes and nonsense onto his wall with a worn-down crayon. At first they had tried to stop him, had even taken the crayon from his hand, but he didn't like that, and so it was quickly returned to him and he had continued his fervent scrawling.
He had not moved in hours, scribbling, scrawling, singing prophecies onto the faded wallpaper. Words and words and stories and lies and words and none of it meant a single thing. But it was the truth. Always the truth.
And that is where the stranger found him. The man did not try to stop him, did not take his crayon away, and he knew. He turned towards the strange, white-haired man who simply watched, and he knew.
"I know you," he said, and it was the truth. Truth. He went back to his writing.
"So you should, child," said the strange man with white hair, and watched.
"I know you," he repeated ag
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Literature
Sing
In the bright dawn of morning, she waited. The morning dew was cold as she sat patiently in the grass to await his arrival. He was late, as he often was, but she didn't mind. His responsibilities were great, and so she would allow him a few extra minutes.
With a contented sigh she fell back, soaking her clothes and hair as she lay on the wet lawn. Stalks of grass tickled her face as she allowed what little rays of sun there were this early in the morning to warm her cheeks. A gentle breeze rocked the trees, rustling the leaves above her.
"Your pardon," a voice chimed. "I did not mean to make you wait."
She was smiling before she even opened her eyes. "Hello, Cessario."
The man standing before her wore only white, his dark hair pulled neatly back with only a few strands still trailing defiantly into his face. Behind him, large wings stretched fair and pure and so white that when the light hit them they seemed to sparkle. He was lovely, to be sure, which made the fact that the girl could
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Literature
Touch
"Don't touch me."
Danya's eyes widened in surprise, hurt flickering across them for a moment before being carefully concealed. He drew his hand back, returning it to his pocket.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Nikolai's tone was hard, cold as the snow that flurried around them, but he was smiling. No warmth emanated from that either. It was in complete contrast with his eyes, coming off as sly or scheming. It was as if he took pleasure in the pain he'd seen there, in the fact that he alone had the power to cause it.
"You know better that to touch me without my permission."
Danya blinked. "You looked cold," he explained.
"Yes," he replied, fingering the edges of the scarf that Danya had placed around his neck, "but that's no reason to touch me. I can't stand being touched by your filthy hands. It hurts me, Danya. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"
"Izvinite," Danya replied softly, staring at his hand as if confused. As if wondering how so light a touch could possibly hurt. He hadn'
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SkylineProphet
Kai
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
消えたい、死にたい、くるいたい。


○ ABOUT! SkylineProphet ; ●●●●●●●●

( » n a m e ) Kai

( » a g e ) 22

( » o c c u p a t i o n ) College Student (Major in Early Childhood, Minor in Psychology) / Assistant Preschool Teacher

( » f i n d_m e in ) Coffee shops, lounges, random parking lots.



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Please check out my wonderful fiancee's writing! Click here: :iconoraios-teras:

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:iconlaitma:
Laitma Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Professional Filmographer
Heeeeeey, it's you!!  I've seen you around man; to be honest I'm surprised I wasn't watching you sooner!!  O:  
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:iconskylineprophet:
SkylineProphet Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Oh my gosh, my writing is like...mediocre on its best days though. xD 
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:iconlaitma:
Laitma Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2014  Professional Filmographer
ShhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHnope
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:iconkatatatt:
KATATATT Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2014
Thank you so much for the :+fav:
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KATATATT Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2014
Thank you for the :+fav:
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:iconzankjra:
ZankJra Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Your webcam. got me by surprise. XD I spit my tea all over my screen. nice.
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:iconskylineprophet:
SkylineProphet Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
inorite? I still can't look at it without cracking up. xD Sorry about your screen though. Hope it was unharmed. ^___^
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:iconmartina-g:
Martina-G Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch :)
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:iconcristianaleone:
CristianaLeone Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Hiya!! Thank you for the:+devwatch:!!! :la: Much appreciated! :hug:
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:iconcaper-dj:
caper-dj Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch! :la:
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