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
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
Delay... no, I already used that one. Pulling her hair back in a high ponytail, she continued to stare at the sign, scrolling through multiple rhyming words for “today.” She’d promised herself that once she ran out of words to rhyme with the diner’s name, she would quit. She’d made the promise three years ago.
Parlay. She sighed as she thought of the arcane term. No quitting today. She stroked a finger down a photo of her four-year-old daughter taped to her locker door before closing it.
“Sophie! Whatter you still doing in here?” The senior waitress, Barbara, barked as she stamped an illegal cigarette beneath her heel. After an unfortunate (staged) accident on roller skates, Barb threatened to sue until she gained permission to wear sneakers instead.
“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
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
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
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
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?
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
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
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
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
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
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
If there was some other guy, if he was THAT good, to outclass me, I'd just have to have a little "chat" with him.
In a warm summer's morning breeze, with the birds chirping and cars honking, overlooking the streets of Paris. And we'd gaze into each other's eyes. I into those big, green eyes of his; and he into the brown of mine. All would go still, as if Destiny knew that the time for the life-changing moment was at hand.
And we'd lean in towards one another...
and both offer to pay the tab and thank each other for such a wonderful time, but we're just not looking for a place in Paris so there's no point in trying to be together.
...Her response was, "Don't tell your girlfriend your homosexual fantasies."
She makes it sound so DEVIOUS! But it's in Paris! That automatically makes it romantic! Right? C'mon, guys! Back me up on this!
And no, I don't live in Paris. Texas, United States of
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
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
"Well, that's your mission objective! Good luck, men, and take care out there! Oh, and Sylas," The energetic Keiran swirled around to the man beside him, "You're going, too. Surprise!"
But this fated time, rebellion it was. "Keiran, I don't understand." With a voice that teetered with anxious emotion, Sylas' cool demeanor vanished. "I don't He doesn't need a partner for this. And I shouldn't have to "
"Don't be sour, dearest. Believe it or not, I'm doing this with you in mind! That town I'm sending you to " Lazily setting his chin against his knitted fingers, Keiran suggested carefully, "It should be quick and easy for you, right?"
Sylas paused for a moment, unmoving and mouth shut,
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
Connor Thorn found that the interior of the passageway was dimly, yet consistently, illuminated with the same darkish-blue-colored lighting first glimpsed upon the "face" its door had externally displayed, which lit the way here just enough so that Thorn could see a few steps' worth up-ahead, or rather down-ahead as it were, as he steadily made his descent. Each step was unusually tall and narrow, making this quite a precarious staircase indeed, but Thorn was nonetheless ultimately able to traverse it without encountering much more trouble than would be entailed by a more regular series of steps, managing to establish a "rhythm" of making his way down it step-by-step and even correctly counting the total number of stairs within his head.
"…And one-hundred-seventy-three!" Connor half-deliberately muttered out loud as he finally reached the bottom. His voice then echoed across the lengthy, empty hallway that now sto
So many of my sisters and brothers have fallen. Do not tread this road lightly.
You have seen Things, and will continue to see Things. The Light is the new Shadow, and the Shadow is the new Light. They are everywhere. They have always been here. These Entities that live amongst us, hidden to the untrained eye.
If you are here, it is because you were born into it, or you were chosen. No one picks this life because they wanted it. It picked us. It crawled into our homes and stole our children and strangled our wives and slit our parents’ throats, and when it was all done, we were left with ourselves, and the static of silence.
Can you live with what you have done, and what you must continue to do? The blood of many stains our homes and our hands. It is the world's condition. Our condition. Humans and allies together.
They live, and we live. They fight, and we fight. We protect what is our
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.
Susanna sat the straw basket down gently, grass tickling her sandaled feet. Her eyes fell on the tiny carving in the bark of the stump- "T+E" written inside a tiny heart; a testament to her aunt and uncle's affection. Her eyes continued up the base of the tree until she beheld the ripe, red fruit growing among the soft, emerald leaves. Those look pleasing, she noted. I hope they'll cheer Aunt Tanya up. She reached and grabbed it, pulling it gently from the tree. The smooth, outer skin was cool to her touch as she set it inside her basket. She reached up and took another and another, stems snapping easily from their winding branches.
The girl wasn't satisfied until she had picked enough apples to
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* >////////////////
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
The boy sits, a desolate individual.
The girl flies, a past angel, a mistake.
They met one night at a ball.
So much love to give.
He could still feel the delicate embrace her wings gave him. Now he felt a vacancy;
he was hollow.
He stands tall.
Glances at his petty possessions. He remembers how she used to hide behind the cabinet when they played games. The ghost of a smile tilts the corners of his mouth toward the sky. If he couldn't have her, at least he had the memories.
A slug of whiskey.
It took away the pain. He felt a fire starting inside.
He opened the door and left.
We were the chosen. We were saved.
Saving those that they had deemed in need had become a popular trend after the rise in reality television. Homeless are usually the targets of these “savings”. They would venture out in the middle of the night, drug someone that is lying in the street, shove them into the back of their van and return to their station.
Every station does it differently depending on how desperate they are for a new face.
Those that are saved are then broadcast from an artificial environment once they have been given a brand new look and a brand new persona. We are forced to watch them live out a fake life. We are forced to watch them behave in a way that was handcrafted by the people behind the screen.
Yet we are expected to be grateful.
After being torn away from our friends, our famil
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.
Razar raised a hand to still his creation, freezing everything in the act. A fish was caught mid-leap, inches from being snapped up by a diving bird that wasn’t native to this area or world. Furry seeds scattered in the air by his head, and he brushed them absentmindedly away as he reached for the tie to the cloth covering his eyes.
Then he stopped, and smirked to himself. He would hear their reaction, first.
The rain pours down, the dry earth soaks it up, I walk alone on the deserted road. My travels have taken me far, deep into deserts, through 'impassable' bogs, and over mountains; I long for home but still I walk on, through sleet and hail, through raging storms and summer days I walk on. When I left those many months ago I had hoped to find something, a divine sign that would point to why I'm here, but the gods were silent and faceless to me. Now as I wander I understand the words my mother said to me when I was a boy, the rain storm rages on, the wind whips the droplets into a fury and soak my already damp clothing. In the towns people scurry inside and the young children scream as the rain picks up. I smile and look to the dark sky “You can't change the weather, you can only live with it.”
When she first told me that I thought it was odd, but through out my life she would tell it to me in different circumstances, I hated it and I hated her for saying
Her hawkish eyes didn’t leave her child, who tumbled and ran around. The clopping sound of hooves caught her attention over her daughter’s laughter. The mounted police her nice enough, but it still unnerved her to answer such a stupid question.
Of course, Hope was her child, tan brown skin and all. She hadn’t fought so hard with the adoption agencies to tell people otherwise.
And yet, the articles about how people mistook adoptive (or even biological kids) for kidnapped children were at the front of her mind…
She blinked, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t like her to have worry overcome her senses. Then it finally clicked that Hope was nowhere t
If I were to ask you out,
I'd start it by saying
that I don't expect anything of you.
My emotions should not create any sort of obligation
for you to fulfill.
My love does not entitle me
to be loved in return,
though it would be pretty nice
if I were.
And I'd say
I'm writing this letter to you because I love you,
not because I expect you to
I'd crack some jokes
because if I can make you smile
I consider my day to be a success.
I'd tell you
I don't expect anything to come from this,
but a dude can hope, right?
That's not a sin,
It's not a crime,
and it's not a sin to hope.
I'll be as straight with you
as someone who's not quite straight can be.
asexuality is different from being straight.
Big wow, right?
I'll tell you, as awkwardly as humanly possible;
I don't want to have your children.
I might like you in my bed,
but I don't want you in me
and I'd honestly rather actually sle
It was a hathsome night that dusk; a speckled sky of shining polka-dots, with softer shades upon the glades, and moonlight spotlighting the grenvy forest floor. But through the moonlit swaying trees, a young one laid across the grass, and wished to see another land. The young one’s heart was set upon wonders that could only bay and stay in the chamber of one’s imagination- far away from the grasp of feel; but the young one was determined. For from lenly-past, the young one remembered the tales of an ancient king who grasped the feathers of an ancient spirit. And with its help he began to shape and create a new land of unknown powers yet to
Star in Cotov's sky during the day, is also considered to be the mother of all life. She is depicted as a beautiful woman with long white hair, her eyes are always closed, and her dress is either white or yellow and flowing. In some depictions she has a halo or crown but in most she is without headdress and surrounded by stars.
Lumia's son, he was created by her out of sea water and light. He rules the ocean and can be cruel at times. His is depicted as a strong, older man with a thick beard. In the temples to him on the shores the paintings vary greatly, the color schemes are the same though, his hair and beard are sea green, his belt is gold, and most of his other clothing items are a range of blue. Offerings are made to him before a great voyage, the offerings generally consist of fresh water fish, crops, silver, or gold coins; offerings are not required but most will give some token to him for safe travels.
Kota rushes up to him, he wants to walk away or to just ignore her but she speaks “Elder, Oba wishes to see you.”
“Why are you here, shouldn't you be off tending your little plague?” He spits at her coldly, it takes all of her will power not to argue with him.
“He is awake, and with Oba, that is why she asked me to get you.” Her voice holds annoyance, the elder nods and motions for her to lead the way. As they get closer screams erupt from the small hut and they rush into the small space, people are beginning to crowd the outside, looking in.
“What is going on?” He demands over the screaming, Kota looks at Renshaw, clutching his head, screaming in agony with blood oozing down his face.
“I-I don't know!” Oba stands slowly and grabs a rag, before she cand start to clean up the blood Kota snatches it and starts to do it for her. “I mentioned the wizard and he
Floating in darkness... Not much of an afterlife. No pain, no sadness, nothing... Why did he not forget me? He could have been happy, he could have lived a long life without me... Why does he cling to me so desperately? Why does he torment me like this? Dead but not, alive, but not... Trapped in my own head, I am loosing my mind. Someone release me from this hellish prison... please...
Kota waits for over an hour before going out in search of Renshaw, she walks the path, looking for signs that he had some how missed it and wandered unknowingly into the woods but she comes to village before finding any sign that he is missing. With a frown she walks around, heading toward Luna's home, she is met by Fulton outside, searching for Luna. “Elder, have you seen Renshaw?”
“You.” The man glares at her “Where is my granddaughter? What have you done with her?” People stir in their homes as he wakes them.
“She was with me,” Kota defends “She went home after meeting Renshaw, he heard the coyotes and went after her to make sure she got home.”
“She was with you?” Fulton rages internally, people begin peering out of their homes, watching them.
“She was headed home!” Kota shouts “Renshaw was making sure she got here safely, now they
Vega, the sweet innocent looking A.I that runs the police force of this hell on Earth; she does her best but even she turns her back on the poor. Every year crimes increase in the lower levels, every year more and more Vera fail to respond to calls for help. Eros will burn in deadly riots if something does not change. It is on the precipice and must either stand or fall.
Brian’s security cameras follow as the boy chases the girl down a hallway. When they turn down a new hall Brian switches to new cameras, which, while a chore, provides new angles to view them.
Brian, viewing the world through a black and white security camera, assumes both children have white skin with pink undertones. He imagines their shoes clang against the metal floor, that the boy and the girl are doused in sweat, and that they giggle when drawing near each other. When they trip or crash into each other they must feel each other’s warmth and panting breaths. The boy must feel strands of the girl’s long, loose hair tickling his face and neck. The girl must feel the boy’s chubby frame as he crawls on top of her and, like with a brother, pins her to the ground. Brian lifts his hand as if he could reach and touch them.
The boy and girl continue into the station’s promenade, weaving through crowds
She shook and ground her teeth and wept when old Sphinx died. She carried on just slightly more than she had after she’d lost her phone. Keydra thought it was a strange thing to fret so for the dog, because even though she had replaced the phone, the old one had been customized to a ridiculous degree. She’d had to personalize her new phone all over again. Having another pet customized to the relatively tame level that Sphinx had been done was, for her family, not nearly as expensive, nor as time-consuming.
Daddy drew up a sheet over the old dog and the steel table he’d been laid upon. The vet asked him if they wanted him recycled for parts or stuffed as a trophy to be sent home. Kendra’s father chose the latter. He enjoyed collecting splendid specimens. Several former pets were a part of the Martin family’s living room.
Sphinx had been a good dog. Keydra had memories of lon