It was your favorite spot for many reasons--after all, who wouldn't want to be snuggled up beside the world's cutest angel? You loved having your head pressed to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat, you loved feeling his arms wrapped protectively around you as you both breathed a sigh of relief for another hunt gone safely, and you loved just knowing he was all yours for a little while.
One of Castiel's hands moved from holding you in an embrace to your stomach, one of his fingers tracing nameless patterns over it.
"Cahahahas, stohohop," you giggled, far too much like a small child for your liking.
"Why?" Honest-to-goodness inquiry flooded those clear blue eyes of his. He
Mum is sitting at the kitchen table when I skip in. "Heya, Mumsliums!" I holler, giving her a frantic wave. She nods once and waves back as I cut through the tiled kitchen for the mud room to get my tennies from the shoe rack. She doesn't say much anymore, now that she's lost her lower jaw. I shrug and
With the mildest of expressions, Keiran merely blinked up at the enraged one and countered, unexpectedly cold, "Since when do morals matter here? At this place where we observe and judge humanity? We focus on facts, not feelings. You know that." He added, patronizing.
"Tch, I don't need you reminding me. And I know what I need to do, but there's no way I'm-" Garrick welcomed the coming verbal battle; thus, when his superior rose from his seat, he could feel his own temper rising as well.
Keiran then approached him face-to-face, smirking all the while he spoke. "Look, I love the way you think " A graceful hand took to Garrick's pounding neck, reached to his face, where it departed with a tender caress. "But talking back to your superior isn't a good idea when the
It's not like you would have settled for anything less, would you? Muffled coughs echo around the church- there always seems to be someone with a cough at these things, though I admit I haven't been to a lot of funerals.
Music starts. I exhale once, a sharp motion that pushes the air out of my lungs and vapour spills from between my lips instead, even though we’re indoors. The heels of my boots keep clicking loudly against the stone floor and the tag on the back of my dress itches. I've worn this dress to a funeral before- I wouldn't want you to think I'd go out and buy a new dress especially for you. After a lifetime (or my life up until now, anyway) of complaining about how I "could be so pretty if you tried!" and pursing your lips in clear disapproval of my tomboy proclivities, you should be grateful I wore a dress at all.
Grateful. That was always such a big theme for you, wasn't it? Or, more specifically, you never got the gratitude
With almost seconds to breathe the last bit of life they possibly could, the young man screamed out with such a piercing sound to anyone who was unfortunate to hear it. Gasping, panting, the young soul began closing his eyelids which would last for an eternity.
"James?" a distant voice muttered. "James, what have you done this time?" The soft, gentle voice spoke as it seemed to fade away.
With a sudden dash, James, the young man would leap from where he laid. The last words of the voice echoed in his mind. With a flustered, confused action, James repeated battered his eyelids before opening th
Here she was again. Here, in this world surrounded by a black veil impenetrable by light or sound. Here she was safe from the dangers of the world she called her home. Opening her eyes, she lifted her naked body from the ground, looking to see what he had brought her this time.
The gown was a beautiful flowing crimson skirt. She smiled as she picked it up, comparing it with the length of her body. She smiled at the way it fit her curves once shed slid the cloth over her body. It was strapless, which made her worry. Ah, but she had no reason to. Here, in this world where no one bullied her or beat her with sticks and belts and glass cups, she was graceful and beautiful. At least, that was what he told her.
A perfect fit.
As always, she replied to this voice. The being in front of her was a boy older than her by two years, yet still pertained the beauty of one much younger. Such a lover would arise suspicion in the real world, where she lived her
“He’s confused and missing a wing,” she said, sitting behind the desk and folding her hands on the desktop. “Besides, he’s an angel, for Christ’s sake. There’s a better probability of being attacked by a rabid mailbox.”
He planted his hands palms down on the desk. “But where did he come from, why doesn’t he remember anything, how did he get a friggin’ wing torn off?” He jabbed the faux wood finish with an index finger. “You see? This is why I screen all of your patients.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and this is also why all my clients are animals or attractive females.”
“I’m doing this to protect you.”
She folded her arms over her scrubs. “Oh, so treating ugly women would be detri
A truck appeared in the left side mirror, rapidly barrelling towards them. By some miracle, Atlas managed to swerve safely onto the shoulder. He slammed on the brakes as the truck whipped past.
After a few rocky breaths, Lizzie tried to laugh. “Wow, t-that was close...That guy really needs to watch where he’s going.”
Atlas said nothing. His knuckles clenched white around the steering wheel; he stared without seeing, eyes wide, mind whirling, heart racing. He was sixteen again, whimpering in pain, quaking at the sight of too much blood, nauseated by the smell of smoke, overwhelmed by the blare of sirens, screaming at his motionless brother in the passenger seat--
“Atlas, are you okay?”
Dimly, he became aware that he was hyperventilating. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t hear what Lizzie was saying.
“...Atlas? Atlas? ATLAS!”
He flinched, jerking his head to look at her.
Judging by his pa
Definition: to fool, as by false promises or wrong notions; mislead; deceive; trick
Words: 500 or less
Mark Smith was attractive, tall, well muscled, and young looking for a man his age. Not the slightest bit of gray showed in his hair despite the fact he was almost twice Alek's. He was also rich, far better off than Alek himself if he was looking to invest in the company. That said, the man was fucking deluded if he thought for two seconds that there was any chance in hell of Nathaniel sleeping with him. Aleksandr would pound him into the dirt before he'd let him get his hands on his assistant. He was half tempted to punch him just for looking at Nate. Prospective investor or not.
He took a deep breath, let it out again, and reminded himself that while it was obvious to him Nathaniel was likely completely unaware of the guy's interest. That thought alone did a lot to ease his anger at the man sitting next to him.
Nathaniel laid t
Definition: formed or originating in the place where found
Words: 500 or less
Evan leaned forward in his chair, his eyes sweeping over the thin paper that Jake was sketching a tattoo design on. It was a woman rising out of mud, one arm half formed the other seeming to drip with mud. "Autochthon or nymph?" he asked, not entirely sure which it was meant to be or if it even mattered.
Not looking up, Jake laughed. "You and your big words. A what or a nymph?"
"Autochthon. A mortal being that springs from the earth itself. Shows up in greek mythology. It can also refer to the original inhabitants of a region, but frankly that sounds far less interesting and isn't what I was referring to."
Jake nodded, shading the hair on the woman. "Ah. Yeah that's it then I guess."
He liked these moments. It really didn't matter what Jake was working on. Evan just
Definition: the formation of a word, as cuckoo, meow, honk, or boom, by imitation of a sound made by or associated with its referent
Words: 500 or less (just over)
"Shhh..." Alek whispered, leaning forward into Nathaniel's space. His eyes were on the door however and not on Nathaniel.
The closet was already cramped and it made Nathaniel all that much more aware of how close his boss was standing. He'd been looking for paper clips and had only just stepped down off of the step ladder when Alek had stepped into the closet. He'd shut the light off and almost entirely closed the door, only a sliver of light shined through the space. Nathaniel had been so shocked he hadn't known what to say and then when he'd opened his mouth to ask Alek what was going on he'd been shushed. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.
"Shhh..." Alek whispered again, this time lifting a finger to his lips.
He really hated that sound right then. Normall
I know this to be true as I am not
A friend that someone would desire to have
I am the friend that doesn't speak
Because I was told that I talk too much
And I know that my words are irrelevant
So I don't speak
All my friends hate me
Because I don't contribute to plans
Or I allow my words to get away from me
And I am unaware of what I've said
Until it has leaped from my mouth
And pollutes the air
All my friends hate me
Because I brag too much
Because I'm too quiet
Because I keep my feelings trapped inside
Because I know if I make plans that no one will come
Because I know that if they truly did hate me that they wouldn't tell me
All my friends hate me
Yet I choke each time
I wish to ask if it's true
So I let this fear fester in my stomach
I let it grow
I let it branch out every time people text in the same room
Because I am the friend that no one wants
The friend that people forget about
All my friends hate me
Because who would want a friend like me?
Do you believe in the unknown?
Everyone, at some point in their lives, is asked this one question, where faith is tested and social status is put on the spot. Most answer of course not, who does. But, my answer was completely different.
Of course, why shouldnt I? Humans exist, dont we? Why couldnt any other creature?
Many people tease you about that. I didnt care; no one was going to change my mind. But my main interest was mermaids, the official half breeds. They are beautiful and mysterious, alluring and frightening, safe and dangerous. I loved the stories of long haired, topless women luring men overboard to their deaths, of Ariel finding her Prince Charming, and of the little mermaid diving into the sea in despair of losing her love.
I grew up. I pierced my ears, I dyed my hair black with lime green streaks (who else would wear it like that?), and became something most commonly called a
You're so beautiful
But I know You're a lie
And that's the reason
I hate you
They could Have you forever
But I don't
I want to cut our ties
Like the skin on my thighs
You have given me
The most sour lemons
To Make lemonade.
No one wants to drink from this glass
of troubles and tears
of heartbreaks and scratches
of the sour lemons of Life.
Yet it's shoved down our throats
Like the doctor's pills.
You're the sweetest lie
But not everyone can see
through that facade of yours.
All is a lie
The biggest lie
I hate you so much
And greet Death
with open arms.
Death is Peace
Death is Authentic
With arms spread apart
And a crazy grin
A plan runs through my head
before I disappear.
Somebody tell me
that I'm important too.
Somebody show me
what it's like to live.
Because I don't feel
like I exist...
Because I don't...
Feel. . .
Anything at all.
Definition: Not occurring very often
Words: 500 or less
"Mm..." Liam hummed and rolled over. Days he didn't wake up to the sound of his alarm clock telling him off were becoming far more frequent. He cracked an eye open.
"Morning, Blue Eyes." Whitney pulled him closer and kissed his forehead.
Yawning, Liam tilted his head back and kissed Whitney on his unshaven chin. He reached up and brushed some of Whitney's hair out of his face. The long, rich-brown strands had come free of the ponytail the night before. Not that he'd had anything at all to do with that. He liked having his hands in it and loose it added to the incredibly sexy scruffiness that was Whitney.
"Morning." Liam all but murmured the word. They both knew what it meant, that there was more there than just that word. Liam still couldn't say it, not in the morning. Any other time
Underneath a heap of blankets, a small figure shifted, revealing a face that was red with fever. It smiled as wide as its ability. "Hey," It breathed with effort to regain its vocal chords, clearing its throat as it repeated, "Hey."
Feeling every heartstring being pulled towards his ailing friend, the ever-faithful Garrick approached the bedside and sat with fists on his lap and back arched forward.
"You'll... You'll get sick," Torrin warned, knowingly.
"Hah, don't care." The Diviner of Fate wasn't sure what to do, or how to fix the situation, but he knew that this was the most important place he had to be.
Gently, he placed a hand on Torrin's burning forehead, as if he could heal him with unforeseen magic; but of course, he felt powerless. Had it been Keiran or Sylas, they had such skills, but Garrick...? Torrin only melted
"Oh, my beloved Torrin, whatever brought this up?" A familiar voice squeaked in amusement.
Hah. Rolling his eyes towards the audibility behind a closed door, Garrick figured, Wonder what Keiran and Torrin are up to.
"I… Well, it's just that I – I wanted to try something different. Something new that I thought… maybe you could help me with. You see, I found this book in your library…"
Scheming up some cleaning projects together? Good. Least I'm not the only one who's working. And with that, the blond decided to resume his cheerful mopping duties. He fixed his eyes on a questionably sticky spot on the stone-t
in the mirror: he sags.
“i hate you,” he says,
but there is no fire in him.
“And your mission…”
“Was to guard the pool, and find people in need of healing and take them there,” Adam answered somberly. “So long as I did my job, I was permitted to stay in Heaven while I waited to heal someone. I was one of the few who allowed such a pleasure, but I took it welcomingly. Perhaps I took it for granted as well, but I never gave it much thought. Even at that time, there was so much pain and hurt in the world that all I wanted to do was heal.”
“So what happened?” she wondered. “How did thin
Wandering and searching,
To find another,
Who she may touch with her icy palms,
Or speak to in hushed tones.
The lonely child creeps amongst the woods.
Accompanied only by her silent guardians.
Brutish beasts that had their pupilless eyes gouged out from their sockets,
Canid mongrels who still carry the ancient, primordial ooze within their jowls,
And silent pale-skinned creatures, with bones jutting from every inch of their bodies.
The monster stand with her by the forest's edge.
Their spindly, gnarled hands clasped in hers.
The lonely child creeps amongst the woods.
Silent and still as her beastly vanguard stands by her,
Their mouths shut as she produces a song from her throat.
A soft and yielding tune,
Of which the monsters are tempted to hum to, but restrain themselves.
They do not sing the song of loneliness and heartache,
As they no longer have any concept of such things.
The lonely child creeps amongst the woods.
Her only companions the
The cold that seemed to wrap itself around me like a blanket, smothering me in a frosty coat of icing and settling there.
Despite the thin blanket that covered me, I could still feel the biting cold as if I was stood in the middle of Antarctica with nothing but a thin coat to cover my entire body.
The second thing I noticed when I awoke was the lights.
Bright, fluorescent lights that attacked my eyes that had become adjusted to the darkness that lay beneath my eyelids. My eyes were blurry, like an out-of-focus camera, and the lights didn't help my cause in the slightest. It was so bright, it was like the sun shining down on a freezing winter day, deceiving you by appearing warm, when in reality, it was absolutely freezing. There was just this never-ending brightness that lit up the room at full saturation.
It was like a hospital, and at first, I truly thought I was in a
Malasada. They just happen to be one of my favorite foods. Whether it was the sweetness, spiciness, or what flavor it contained within its' ingredients, I would love it either way. I guess when a person lives their entire life in Alola, they would grow fond of the treat...Although, I'm not too sure if that's a fact for every resident.
The first time that I had laid my hands on such a treat was my first trip to Hau'oli City. I was about 11 years old and well my father, (Father's name), who happened to be a professor, was called out for a special meeting out in the city. Knowing me, my father sent me out on my own adventure in the city with my special friend, (Favorite Pokémon). At this time of my life, I have never been to another City, despite that Iki Town, my hometown, was near.
A shopping district full of stores of different categories, a marine district, and a Beach. I knew that it was the biggest city of Alola but I also knew that all the different islands
Throughout the long (or not-so-long, depending on whose perspective one is speaking from) history of the mysterious (or not-so-mysterious, depending on… well, you should get the idea) realm known as the Nava-Verse, many legendary events of tremendous conflict and epic adventure have transpired, including the rise and fall, then rise again, then fall again, of the Anyugari Empire, the Vision Wars and the (mis)adventures of the human messiah Connor Thorn who arrived in the midst thereof, the many heroic endeavors of the Eggmen Super Team, the ancient and often-romanticized Monolith War fought against the forces of the mighty Wrath demon Bartinez the Terrible, and so many other sagas of interest, supposedly all of them historically-recorded in comprehensive detail thanks to ongoing, divinity-ordained efforts headed by the immortal being known as the Custodian.
The tale about to be told here, however, does not come from the Custodian's
" A disease? Or drug? Weapon?" For such a vastly vague question, Garrick could only wait for any sign of approval from his superior. To each answer, none actually came.
Keiran tapped his fingers along his desk as if performing a one-handed piano concerto. "All of the above, and then some. It's stress." He ended somewhat anticlimactically.
It was only after it was verbalized that the answer seemed only too obvious to Garrick. "Haa, okay, I get it now. But what do you expect me to do about it? In my opinion, all that 'stress' stuff is more or less a mental thing."
"And that it could be, Garrick. Especially with the case of this young man. He has a great life, works hard, could have a bright future But he just doesn't wish to see it that way. Unfortunately, humans are very pro
the age when we were made of s t a r s
when i was the Daughter and you were the Son
how we grew up without knowledge of what was Good and what was Evil
we knew not of Joy nor knew we of Anguish
we just e x i s t e d
H u h;
neither do i
It started on a Thursday. Serena remembered that much perfectly well. She had never liked Thursdays in September, and certainly not in the company of her cousins. She empathized completely with Green Day, and she'd love to be able to sleep through the entire month, to be woken up when September ended. But then she'd have to deal with October and November... and even into December and January.
She'd considered hibernation, but then she never had thought well of eating as much as that would require. And it hadn't worked out for Garfield anyway. Instead, Serena had stared unbelievingly as her family seemed to go completely insane over men in tight pants throwing a ball and running from one end of the grass to the other.
So she made a habit of being scarce whenever football season came around. Every Thursd
She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. She always lit this light in me whenever I was with her. I was kissing her. Well, we were kissing. I was so glad to have her to myself for once in a long time. These restless nights have been the focal point of the past few weeks, and Rose let me forget about them. Her skin was satin under my hands. Her lips definitely had something on them—lipgloss or chapstick, probably the latter—but I didn’t mind. It was nice to have her soft lips on mine, whom have never been touched by chapstick.
She gripped my hair, and I had to break away. I grinned.
“Rose, I know we’re just snogging here, but it’s difficult to not go any farther when you grab my hair.” I laughed breathlessly.
She replied with a giggle. “Sorry,” she said, still playing with my hair.
“I doubt it,” I answered with a chuckle.
“Sorry; it’s so nice to touch, though.” I g
out of coffee cups to hide
their alcoholism from their child's eyes
sleepy suburb mornings never speed up
hot, humid air presses down on
my bare arms and my bare legs and my bare everywhere
is this what love feels like?
hot, humid mornings turn to languid afternoons
languid afternoons to cool nights
i tuck myself in with thoughts of you
eyes blue, lips red, skin pale white
you are my american flag, my freedom
i wake up the next morning
window coated in dew
i can't help but miss
my thoughts of you
It was as if the Gods themselves were arguing, trying to win the rights to sink my soul even deeper into the darkness pooling in my gut, twisting my innards. The pain was dull. The throb was hardly noticeable when there were so many people around me. Their loud, shrill voices pierced the darkness that was me and somehow made it hurt less; less, but not completely.
“Can you cure me?”
I often found myself wondering aloud, pitifully praying for my question to be answered. Of course, it never was. All I received in returned were sets of wide eyes, incredulous glances, judging stares: ignorance, naivety. Yes, bittersweet ignorance is all I ever received from these people I was supposed to call my p
But for me, those fifteen minutes was all it took. Like most things that happen, I can rarely explain the why. But as the Diviner of Fate, I can tell you this; what happens, happens regardless.
I remember watching him for the first time. I saw a man, sipping tea in his favorite chair, just watching things as they happened through a glass window. Always smiling, that man.
I'll admit, he confused me then, and he confuses me now.
But before that day, I never really enjoyed my own cup of tea. I'm not sure if he knows, but on that day, he definitely woke me up and snapped me out of something horrible.
I'm now alive and awakened, thanks to that man by the window.
"So what do you think of
He slowly opened his bright purple eyes and looked around at his surroundings. Tall green and brown objects that reached for the heavens only to fall short; trees. New and decaying leaves laid around him as if in a silent funeral. His blue hair clashed horribly with the dim scene as an the face of another slowly entered his dim and red vision. The mouth of the face moved yet the sound fell on currently deaf ears. He felt his head tilt slightly as his vision slowly died away once again.
"What did you find, dear?" the elder woman asked as her husband examined the body on the ground.
"It's a little boy. His name is Kwai."
Kwai wondered through the woods in what he knew was a futile attempt at his quest; he was looking for his pendant. The one that he held dear and had when he was little and worn when the old couple had found him. However, he had lost it when he was running through the woods when he was younger and every few days or so, he would go looking fo
You found 1's secret stash of chocolate.
Me: AMERICA! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT YOU NEED TO START EATING HEALTHIER?!
America: Sorry *blushing shyly*
Me: Oh, how can I be mad at you?! You're just too damn CUTE!!
2 confesses his love to you.
Me: What's wrong?
Prussia: *after hesitating for a second, he grabs me, hugs me, and kisses me* >////////////////
What We Learned at Rokudai
- August -
"A fresh start," she said, spreading her arms up with enthusiasm as they approached the campus center's entrance. They walked up the shallow set of stone steps leading to the campus center's entrance. "This year's going to be so much better than the last," she insisted with an optimistic glint in her sapphire eyes. She was wearing her colored contact lenses today - the first time in a long while.
Her elder brother, walking beside her, scratched lazily at the stubble on his neck as he opened one of the glass double doo
Following several more tense minutes of walking through Churrow Village with no additional incidents of civilian-interaction nor of routinely-planned stops occurring, Yorrence released his uncomfortably tight grip on Reedtos' hand as they exited the settlement through its Western gate and began traversing the cleared-out, predator-free stretch of land surrounding the town proper, where several small crop fields, a Petpatsey-herding farm and even the lonely abode of at least one crazed, outcasted hermit were. In spite of how massively unprepared he felt, Reedtos was, at least, very much used to doing lots of walking; he had been quite active in playing out here on the village's outskirts for hours on end, mainly just by mindlessly running around in circles, as a younger child. However, he was far less accustomed to walking for considerable distances while carrying a large amount of extra weight on his body as he was now, and the boy began
Rather than sitting amongst his coworkers, Sylas stood to pace, needlessly busying himself by lighting the fireplace and moving drapes from the windows. Torrin shifted in his seat for the fifth time, shared a quick look with Garrick, then continued toying with his fingers. And Garrick had a dry aggravation floating in his throat. Though he sat completely still, he couldn't resist the urge to itch and fidget with his casted, tingling arm.
Neither man said a word although the same question played at each of their minds. No mind reading was necessary for the Diviners.
One minute passed since Keiran called them all into the living room. He had yet to arrive himself, to which the three men could only ponder. Apprehensive, unknowing. There was something about the nature and timing of his beckoning that frightened them – though non
The shouting of his name had him raising his head up and glancing around. His gaze settled on a young boy who could have been no older than six. The little boy ran up to the grey and white cat, excitement shining in his eyes. He quickly scooped up Thanatos and ran to the front of the house. In the front yard was a large oak tree, one that had been there for as long as Thanatos could remember, and in front of the tree was an older man. He eyed Thanatos wearily before looking fixedly at the boy holding him.
No one is able to see the cracks behind a smile full of lies.
Deep down inside she feels like a little girl made of glass.
One day someone will fix her pane, then her smile will not pass.
Till then she remains invisible, hidden in plain sight.
A with a handful of promises and a heart full of fright.
A few years will pass. You'll fill up your coloring books, beg your mom to buy more. She will, happy to see you not drawing on the walls anymore. You'll ask for new crayons, colored pencils. She'll give in sometimes. Others she'll tell you you already have plenty. Then you'll pout, throw a fit. She won't give in. You eventually give up. You're five, in kindergarten, able to draw or paint in class anyway. Trees. Flowers