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Tokka Week: Nap Time

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Tokka Week: Nap Time

They spent the rest of the class discussing who would have custody of Lin at what times. Well. Not really discussing. Toph told him. “The only times I cannot actually have flour baby—” “Her name is Lin,” said Sokka. He smiled at her lazily, like he was enjoying interrupting her at every turn. Toph was tempted to grab his ear and yank his head up off the desk, but she would get in trouble for that, not him. “Fine. Lin. The only time I cannot actually have ‘Lin’ in my lap, like we are supposed to, is during my music lessons on Monday night and during my Tai Chi lessons on Friday. I will bring

Tokka Week: TLC

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Tokka Week: TLC

There are two phrases every student dreads: group project and your partners will be assigned. Toph ground her teeth, waiting for Miss Joo Dee to reach her name. When she did, she wanted to claw her face off. The class slacker. Because what else kind of luck would she have? Joo Dee finished reading, and Toph glanced over her shoulder. Sokka hadn’t lifted his head from his desk; he looked like he might be asleep, like always. Scowling, Toph picked up her bag and moved to the back row. She accepted the assignment sheet from the girl in front of her and poked Sokka with her pen. He stirred, then jerked upright. “Shit,” he mut

The Light Is Always on You

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The Light Is Always on You

G.B. put Marshall Lee from his mind. It was not easy, but G.B. had plenty of practice. *** The phone call woke G.B. from sleep. “Are you awake?” G.B. frowned at the phone. He wanted to be angry and found he could not be, but at least he could sound peevish. It was petty, wanting Marshall Lee to think G.B. didn’t care, but G.B. would be the first to admit he was petty. At least where Marshall Lee was involved. “I am now.” “Oh, shit, sorry—I didn’t realize what time it was. Fuck.” He sounded honestly sorry. G.B. found himself relenting, if only because he was pleased to know, like alwa
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A Statement Based on Truth

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A Statement Based on Truth

Marshall Lee had been gone for three weeks, five days, and seventeen hours. Not that G.B. was keeping track. He just had a very good memory. This was the fifth time Marshall Lee had left without warning—not that G.B. was keeping track of that, either. *** Marshall Lee called G.B. in the middle of the night—which, by this point, was no surprise. “Can I come over?” Marshall Lee asked, not even waiting for a sound from G.B. G.B. blinked at his headboard. He was tangled in his sheets, clutching his pillow in one hand and the phone with the other. Marshall Lee’s words hadn’t quite made sense, but the tone d

PHOCT Epilogue

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PHOCT Epilogue

    Before stepping onto the barge, Ron glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to Hades. It seemed surreal that he was finally leaving this place. There was no way to really understand how much time he’d spent there, but it felt longer than a lifetime. And he’d had a pretty eventful life.    Then, letting out a slow breath, he walked up the ramp to join the rest of his group. Jesse was looking out over the water, drumming his fingers on the guard rail thoughtfully. Izanami sat on the seating lining the edge, her hands tucked into her sleeves and her lips curled in a thin, pleased smile. “Will you not sit by me, Mr. Merr

PHOCT 6: Redemption, 5

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PHOCT 6: Redemption, 5

    Drac walked back to AJ: slowly, with his eyes fixed on his feet. She leaned against the column, one hand propped on her hip. “Now what was that all about, Thane?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.    “You know the answer, so don’t ask.” Drac put one hand on the hilt of his angel’s knife—not a threat, but for comfort, for the sake of the memory.      She glanced over at Ron and his friend. She was crying against his chest; he was holding her, wearing a look that AJ found uncomfortably familiar—it looked like the way she felt when the rug got pulled out from under her. When she realized she

PHOCT 6: Redemption, 4

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PHOCT 6: Redemption, 4

Tiamat turns on Saturday, allowing Arya to slay him again and take back his power. She has difficulty controlling his powers again, but Izanami steps forward and helps her by taking control of a large part of the souls. She and Rin and Jesse go to find Ron, leading their army of the dead.***     “We’ve got some time to kill, apparently,” said AJ. She put her backpack on the ground. “Wanna play cards or something? I’m bored.”    Drac hardly listened to her. He was looking at Persephone.    She stopped and followed his gaze. “Now what’re you looking at her for?”    “I want more

PHOCT 6: Redemption, 3

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PHOCT 6: Redemption, 3

    Outside the apartments, Izanami stopped, her head tipped back and a sharp frown on her face. “I feel a great disturbance,” she said, frowning. She turned to walk toward the Asphodel Fields.      Jesse looked to Rin, who shrugged. “Ron is probably in the Slums anyway,” she whispered, bouncing from foot to foot. Jesse could tell she was itching to tear away, but you couldn’t exactly rush a goddess, not when you needed her to save your friend’s life.    When they reached the Slums, chaos greeted them.    The ground had been torn apart by black roots that writhed and twisted. All of them were surrounde

PHOCT 6: Redemption, 2

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PHOCT 6: Redemption, 2

    Izanami was holed up in a FLEET apartment. Despite the lackluster setting, she was dining in style—a tea service was set up in front of her, which she contemplated in silence. Jesse glanced at Rin and was surprised to see her look of concentration had returned. “Rin—”    “Shh,” said Rin, squaring her shoulders. “Let me—let me handle this.”      Jesse was trying to figure out how to say that he didn’t think violence was the right solution to this problem when Rin walked forward. When she entered the room, she put her hands flat on her thighs and bowed to Izanami. “Lady Iz

PHOCT R6: Redemption, 1

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PHOCT R6: Redemption, 1

    Jesse turned to Rin, trying to find any scrap of a smile. “Shall we?” His voice came out weak and pathetic; he bowed, to try and disguise his complete dejection, but judging by the look on Rin’s face, it hadn’t worked.    Rin drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword, her eyes narrowed.    “Rin?” said Jesse, stepping around in front of her. He didn’t recognize the expression on her face.      “Shh!” she snapped, and for a moment he understood her again. “I’m thinking.” The expression reappeared: fierce concentration, mixed with regret and confusion.    Jesse
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King Vs. Vonnegut

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King Vs. Vonnegut

Yeah, I write horror novels. Go ahead, call me a hack. You’re one of the greatest writers of all time. Say what you want about my books. I can take it. Call ‘em derivative—never mind that I revamped vampires. Call ‘em cheap shlock—never mind that I put my whole heart and soul in every one. Call ‘em trash, even—thousands of readers across three decades just can’t be trusted with literature, after all. What would this world come to if readers, not critics, decided the classics of the day? I get it. I’ll just go home and sob into my fifty published novels. Y’know. The ones fueled
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King Vs. Adams

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King Vs. Adams

Let’s say we’re in a diner. The table has a cracked red plastic top, and the booth is scuffed. The napkins are patterned with banty hens the color of a dying sunset, and you, Mr. Adams, are telling me why you pussied out in the series that made you famous. That’s right. You cracked like my hip when the minivan hit it. You snapped like my typewriter ribbon when I wrote too fast for it to keep up. You cringed like my readers when Annie hobbles Paul in Misery. You’re shaking your head. You’re saying some shit about how writing novels is hard, and you never wanted to do it, and there was so much pressure. Here&rs

The Dead God's Revelation

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The Dead God's Revelation

Lucien scrubbed with harsh soap until his skin was red and stinging, then stepped under a jet of hot water. He’d been doing this forever, but it still made him grimace and squirm. After drying with a rough cotton towel, he pulled a clean white robe that smelled of magic and disinfectant over his head, placed a soft cloth cap over his short hair, and stepped into straw sandals that scratched his feet. He placed his hand against the doorway to the patients’ area. Magic pushed against him like a strong wind; he relaxed into it, and the door slid open. Lucien took stock. At the moment he had only two subjects. The man was asleep, his

Commission: Vigilance

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Commission: Vigilance

It was three in the morning, and Frost was in the hospital. For once, he wasn’t the one strapped up to a hospital bed, nursing broken bones and black eyes—he was in the waiting room—but that only made it worse. Shit. Frost would break every bone in his body to spare Collin this. He caught himself starting to drift off and pinched the inside of his elbow. He didn’t get to go to sleep. He was holding a vigil. Frost had decided that if he could stay up all night, Collin would be fine. After all, the doctors said it was probably nothing—just an ordinary sickness, but they always had to be careful with kids like Col

RDB: Khrysandelt

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RDB: Khrysandelt

Veronica, two months pregnant and attempting to get her boyfriend to notice, and Ricky, who wanted to end things with his expansive girlfriend, sat at a table-for-two around lunchtime at the Olive Garden in Columbus, Ohio, eyeing the bottle of house rosé which, unbeknownst to them, doubled as the portal key to Khrysandelt: the land where everything glitters slightly more than normal. Veronica knew she oughtn't drink, but she didn't care. The baby might not even grow up with a father—nothing could be worse, even if she birthed a child so warped by alcohol and cigarette smoke it looked more like the child of Godzilla and Mothra than

Treatment

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Treatment

Luke took Holly’s hand in both of his, studying her reaction. Holly closed her eyes immediately, and her breaths came faster and shallowly. She tensed like he had slapped her, and her eyes moved beneath her lids—slowly at first, then faster and faster. Luke silently counted the seconds she held on. She drew in a sharp breath and pulled away, falling back against the wall. Her palms were wet with sweat that left marks on the stone; her eyes moved across the floor without taking anything in. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. Luke did not try to move toward her or help her. Instead, he spoke, his voice soft and calm. &ldquo

The Ballad of Kennesaw Mountain

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The Ballad of Kennesaw Mountain

"What should I tell them, Mr. Bierce?" Carrie calls. "Señor Villa will ask about you!" I walk away from the camp. The desert is cool at night, quiet and inviting. It's full of snakes and cacti and poisonous lizards, but that seems a fair trade for cool sand under bare feet and the stars. "Mine eyes have seen Brown's body—oh, curse it. Why can't I remember how that song goes?" I never have been able to remember the lyrics, not since I bumped my head all those years ago. "Mr. Bierce! Ambrose! It's not safe!" My secretary has never dared to call me by my first name, an occurrence curious enough that I almost turn back. But I'm walking, and it

The Pull

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The Pull

When I was younger, someone showed me a video game—too weird for me, but it made her laugh, and she was pretty. You played as this little guy with a squishy hammer for a head, and you rolled a sticky ball around in front of you. As you rolled it, things got stuck until the ball was gigantic. And then... I don't know. I don't remember the point of the game, nor do I remember the name. But that image comes back to me every time I am anxious. I am that little person running around, pushing a ball, and things stick to it. Only they aren't cows or trees or parts of buildings: they are things that make me nervous. The attention of people. My
98Comments

Postpartum

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Postpartum

When I was younger, I never thought I'd get married. My father told me I was born in trouble, and I still think that's true. I was in and out of juvie, then in and out of jail. Nothing big. Pushing another kid around. Caught with a few too many dime bags. The kind of stuff that gets you no respect in prison and less in the real world. I felt like my tattoos read "permanent convict." For me, "marriage" meant knocking up a bleach blonde while her parents slept in the other room of the trailer. We'd quit school to raise the kid. I'd get some shitty job; she'd get her GED, take online courses, and leave me three years later. By then I'd be happy

Q + A

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Q + A

People think I'm dangerous because I have piercings, because I want tattoos. I don't look away when they stare; I don't answer the questions they think they have the right to ask. In their eyes, I'm an activist, or at least a punk. They don't see the slow, deep breaths I take; they don't notice the obsessive maintenance of every routine, that I spend too much time fussing over my cats, my roommate, and my little brother because it keeps me from thinking about myself. They see someone frightening. I see someone frightened. *** I am sitting on the railing of the roof now. It's not comfortable. The wind is fierce: it tugs at my hair and the

Spotlight

does your heart still beat

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does your heart still beat

In front of the campus library was a stone statue of a lion lounging on a pedestal. Remy was propped between the paws, their feet dangling over one and their head over the other. Today they were dressed like a boy: black cargo pants and black t-shirt and combat boots. Micah looked at Remy, and then he turned his back. He almost turned again—took a few steps heading away—bit his thumb—stopped. He cursed softly. But he had to. He marched to the lion and climbed up the side, trying to imitate Remy’s careless posture. He never could, but he tried anyway. Remy opened eyes the shade of blue you could pull around yourself
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Artist // Student // Literature
  • Nov 14
  • United States
  • Deviant for 15 years
  • She / Her
Badges
I've seen it: It's Coming -- Stay Tuned!
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I Heart DeviantArt Gear: Proud supporter of deviantGEAR
truth® Artist Collective: I joined the truth® Artist Collective
Halloween: Get Spooky With It
My Bio
I write. And write. And that's pretty much all you need to know about me. :heart:

:iconpersistent-practice:

Favourite Movies
Beauty and the Beast
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Metric
Favourite Writers
Tamora Pierce
Favourite Games
American McGee's Alice
Favourite Gaming Platform
DS
Tools of the Trade
Charcoals, colored pencils, and acrylics. <3
Other Interests
Reading, writing, keeping myself busy

Flash Fiction Month

Flash Fiction Month

Yep, it'll be noisy around here again. I don't know why both my Flash Fiction Month projects involve people with gender-related issues and suicide. Also gay ladies. I guess it is just my thing. In other news, my group is a year old now! #Persistent-Practice (https://www.deviantart.com/persistent-practice) ETA: The lovely, the perfect, the wonderful :iconrobinrone: is doing another Kickstarter for her comic Ley Lines! Please, if you haven't, take a look at the comic. It is funny, touching, and epic at turns, and you will not regret it.

COOL THING. LOOK AT IT.

COOL THING. LOOK AT IT.

Hey guys! :wave: The ever epic and amazing ~RobinRone (https://www.deviantart.com/robinrone) is doing a Kickstarter for her webcomic, Ley Lines! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if you aren't reading Ley Lines, you REALLY SHOULD BE. The story revolves around three members of the royal family. After the death of their mother, they are sent away from home and plunged into a conspiracy that threatens to tear their country--and their bond--apart. It's fantastic--deep and thoughtful, but also humorous and sweet. You want fantasy? Got it. You want symbolism? Got it. You want POC and a thoughtful exploration of race relations? GOT IT. If THAT isn't enough to convince

COOL THING. LOOK AT IT.

COOL THING. LOOK AT IT.

Hey guys! :wave: The ever epic and amazing ~RobinRone (https://www.deviantart.com/robinrone) is doing a Kickstarter for her webcomic, Ley Lines! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if you aren't reading Ley Lines, you REALLY SHOULD BE. The story revolves around three members of the royal family. After the death of their mother, they are sent away from home and plunged into a conspiracy that threatens to tear their country--and their bond--apart. It's fantastic--deep and thoughtful, but also humorous and sweet. You want fantasy? Got it. You want symbolism? Got it. You want POC and a thoughtful exploration of race relations? GOT IT. If THAT isn't enough to convince

Comments 843

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Miss seeing you around. Sad dummy 
I know it's been forever and a half. Life; and all of that, sadly. But I wish you a happy birthday, friend of old.
TamamakittyHobbyist General Artist
I love your icon sooo much! It is adorable!
HugQueen Writer
Happy birthday. <3
JadestarXLHobbyist Writer
Happy bworfday
williamfdevaultProfessional Writer
Happiest of birthdays!!  :blackrose:
Happy happy birthday! :tighthug: :party: