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“Unlimited Reading and Fun” There is education. There is unlimited reading. But, education is not unlimited reading. It’s really “limited” reading. For a class in school, maybe I was just reading 2 or 3 books for 5 months. Just 2 or 3 books for a class in school. 2 or 3 books. Or, maybe 4 books if I was lucky. That’s limited. That’s not unlimited. People do have unlimited reading for entertainment and fashion. However, when people do unlimited reading, they usually don’t give reports. Book reports are often homework in schools for education. Of course, for unlimited reading, people usually don’t give book reports. They probably just enjoy fiction and fantasy with ignorance. Did you graduate from school? Well, if you did, you were only getting a “degree” for learning. A “degree” is not unlimited reading. You were just taking a specific plan for goals and certification. It’s a degree. But, it’s not “unlimited” reading. We can do unlimited reading for pleasure, imagination, and

4 Moxie awoke to find herself half falling out of a tree. “What the hell have I done?” She shrieked. “Moxie, what on…?” She muttered to herself. She writhed in the rope holding her down, pegging her to the tree.  She finally undid the knot holding it together, and tumbled out of the tree. She grasped her bag and quickly ran all the way out of the forest. Hopefully, her mother was back. Moxie opened the gate. The new Sherrix- Rotala- was standing there. There was a brief look of surprise on his face. “Moxie Eloquence. What are you doing here?” He asked. He was the only Sherrix Moxie had ever known to have emotion in his voice.  “Uh… Early morning hunting. Unsuccessful, as you can see.” She decided that would be her excuse. Rotala narrowed his eyes. “I have been here since midnight. You did not arrive during the time I have been here.” He demanded. Now it was Moxie’s turn to narrow her eyes. Something told her Rotala could be trusted. “My mother was taken by Sherrixes last night. I came

“Special Vocabulary and Pretending Readers” Hello. I’ve been writing on DeviantArt for 7 years. My personal literature is a variety of reading material. How do you know if you are a reader of my personal literature? Well, I’m not really a person who shows off. I know there’s also literature somewhere else. But… How do you know if you are a reader of my personal literature? I do not want to describe your reading skills with irrelevant ideas. Maybe you do read my personal literature. To know what my personal literature is, please remember my special vocabulary. My special vocabulary includes words such as: Unto Sonnet Proletariat De-winterized Scintillant Visionary Linguistics Express Caution Unlimited Efficacy Sagacity Stanza Velocity Favoritism Catalan Reversed Fuji RF Wherefore Pasa Futurism Modernity Bud Oz 5200 Fairchild Arcadia 32X Counter-clockwise Dreamlikeness Overextension Gunstar Ex-cowboy Theology Aristotle Sesame L-shaped Double-Double Logistics And, more of my own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 Chapter 2: Young Pack Spruce was not happy when he returned. His broad muzzle crinkled at the sight of Mudduab, clearly hoping she would have left by the time he reunited with his sibling. In response, Mud held her tail at a height that showed she respected his authority, but would not back down from her position either. If things worked out, she soon would be the alpha female and he her lesser. If he chose to stay, that was. She pushed the thought from her mind as the three of them set off at a lazy trot, the males content to move slowly as they nursed their full bellies. She wondered instead when they would be willing to hunt again. Not only did she need to see how well Keeper handled himself, but her own stomach was bare and empty, her marmot snack long since gone. For the time being, she kept the thought to herself. She didn’t want to look like she was foraging for handouts and the males would not be quick while their bellies bulged. It was better to wait

“Politics and Reading Voice” Do you read the newspaper with your voice? Or, are you always “quiet” for the newspaper? If you are always “quiet” for the newspaper, you cannot read the newspaper. And, therefore, you do not bear politics. The politics exists. But, you never realize politics. You are without in the direction.

Chapter 1 – The Echo Chamber The morning sun bathed the Hollywood Hills in warm gold, but it felt dimmer than usual for Esmeralda Sumera. Not because of the heat. Not because of the haze. But because the weight of manufactured hate hung heavy in the digital air. Esmeralda sat at the long marble kitchen island, her fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of Trish’s favorite chamomile blend. She didn’t need the drink. Lumirions didn’t need sleep, nor food, nor warmth. But after years on Earth, rituals gave her comfort. Her teal-framed glasses rested beside her. The soft glow from her cyber-synced contact lenses displayed a continuous scroll of social media mentions, news tickers, alerts. She tried to ignore the wave of headlines, but the barrage of negativity wasn’t slowing down: "Esmeralda: Superhero or Alien Threat?" "Hollywood Hills Goddess: What is She Hiding?" "Online Uprising Calls Esmeralda a 'Galactic Fraud'" “Most of this isn’t even real babe,” Trish muttered, standing at the

Translation: Dear Earthlings and creatures of countless multiverses; I would like to give a disclaimer: we, the Cartooneva characters, deeply apologize for the huge amount of shoutouts for this episode. Since Cartooneva deleted the first half of episode 3 which gained 8 likes + when she uploaded the first two episodes which originally were deleted: the amount of shoutouts will consist of her new followers and old followers. Cartooneva is just happy that you all give her support and encouragement. She is a little ungrateful in person and I hope she doesn't end up destroying our universe. I hope you enjoy reading this episode anyways. Best regards: SmurfYouTube Hakim watches a cold, dead eyed, emotionless Pablo: crouching, shaking in cold and fear. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t help and that Pablo was in this state because of him and Kayla. He began thinking what he could do to help because he felt bad for Pablo: at least he tried to imagine how much pain Pablo must

I swear trust holds open arms so you can run and be held by someone's heart but easily broken by someone's palms trust leaves so many scars and yet holds open arms while I build a wall around my heart To run from any more scars That trust gave me with open arms

I'm done with rhyming patterns Rhyming schemes and rhyming words I just want someone to read my words- my mind- my soul that's broken inside But I know that's not how it works And I know this is going to hurt But Ill swallow down these words Because what I want to be true- Can't be- So it's not worth sharing If someone can't read past the words The face- The wall- The blur Between reality and what I've made for myself Then what's the point in sharing for? - if no one can see past the words? The scars- The bruises- the lies created by this world What is all of this sharing for?

“3 Funny Rules” Do you want to know life in a better way? You do? Thank you for your interest. I have 3 funny rules for your safety of personality. To help yourself, I have 3 funny rules for you: Number One- Do not “hang out”. That’s a bad word. It means dishonesty. Number Two- Do not “sing” if you do not read and do not write. That’s stupid. Number Three- Do not “watch” TV if you do not understand TV. That’s ridiculous.

I Cared I Cared too much, I gave too much My mind wandered on thinking you loved me too But i was wrong, You lusted instead of love I am not a toy, Don't play with my heart! Don't play with my mind I cared I cared for you more than i have ever cared for anyone before My heart fluttered each time i thought of you Did your heart ever love before? I'm scared to love again, But when you are near and around me i can't help but smile Sometimes i think you only want what you crave, Please let me try if your heart can be saved I Cared I Cared when nobody did, when nobody wanted to talk when you needed it I Cared when you had problems and felt the world saw you as nothing I'm sorry if i am being too blunt, But i care too much You have a kind soul but you let darkness in too often Let me be your light I Cried I cried when i broke my own heart Assuming you loved me from the start I Ache I Ache when you ignore my love When you ignore my feelings Why won't you let me in? I Cared... When you

When I look into your eyes They make the moonlight glow seem like a distant echo The waves in your hair remind me of the ocean Caressing your body on the star-covered beach Your lips are as soft as the rose petals in the spring time Your smile is as beautiful as the sunrise on a summer day Your laugh is as soothing as a lover's first touch Your touch is as gentle as a baby's first laugh Your tears are as innocent as an angel's love Being with you makes the rain stop falling from the clouds of despair I love you with all my heart The blood in my veins cry for your touch Be with me forever, for I need a true angel Kiss me to make the days stop so we can be together longer Only you can make even God cry, for he created such a wonderful being

Art comes from the heart. A heart without ART is just eh.

So many adore your agency, the manner of trembling at the mention of temporal decay, the sentience of a marble heart broken up devoid of harmonic knowledge- skipping feelings to tell where you are in the story – the blank wave rolling back. I can feel your hate coming into that station like the babble of gasoline lights forced to sit straight, consider the losses stuttering across your shoulder blades, sense the passion and destruction in your deep yellow eyes and compassionate mind.

Being in love with an Eden Unit that you didn’t own was painful. Lucien Hale had spent a lifetime mastering the art of restraint. It was in the way he spoke, measured and respectful. In the way he moved, precise and controlled. In the way he buried every errant thought beneath a lifetime of discipline. And yet, none of it—none of his carefully cultivated composure—prepared him for FX-09-7613. The Eden Unit moved with effortless grace across the marble floor of the Viremont estate, the dim glow of evening light casting a golden sheen over his auburn hair. His green eyes, impossibly vivid, reflected the grand chandeliers above as he set down a tray of tea before Lady Viremont with a bow so seamless, so practiced, that it might as well have been second nature. Because to FX-09-7613, it was second nature. Lucien forced himself to look away, his jaw tightening. Watching him was a mistake. Every time he let his eyes linger for too long, a dangerous thought crept in. He looks so

Under the silver glow and shimmering hue, The moonlight dances, revealing its debut, A secret ambiance, hidden from plain sight, Awakens a world of moonshine at night. The moon, a guiding lantern in the sky, Casts its enchantment as time passes by, Its gentle beams, a mystical embrace, Illuminate the darkness with a tranquil grace. Whispering whispers, the night creatures play, In the deep woods where moonbeams gently sway, Fireflies, like stars, adorn the midnight scene, Their radiant glow, a dazzling sheen. Tall trees stand tall in the moonlight's embrace, Their branches a canvas where dreams interlace, The nocturnal symphony, a silent lullaby, As moonshine shimmers, painting the sky. Moonshine, elusive elixir just out of reach, Like a phoenix ascending through shadows it seeps, It conjures illusions, casting spells so fine, A potion of magic igniting the divine. Whispers of laughter echo through the air, Laughter of the moonshine free from despair, Silhouettes twirl in a

“S… ow…, …ll yo… …ally be ….ing to ta…” seeped its way through the hazy, hairy, and over-pressured maze of the informant’s ear canals. “H-huh?” “Is that … no?~” The assumption kicked her prisoner’s lassitude out of the columns of bars separating them from the outer walkways. She briefly clashed against the tight shackles digging into her purple wrists and ankles, calming down once inconveniently placed screws sent juts of pain through her nerves. She started gasping for air until her brain automatically pieced together what was said. “No no no no no no! I-I’m just a small, new artist who just so happened to-“ The Sound Wave Pokémon barely took in half a mouth’s worth of air before the Miltank descended on the stone pressure plate in front of her, dunking the bat into a rectangular basin of putrid, swamp green water with visible clumps of sludge for her nose’s displeasure. Her eyes realized her nose’s disgust half a second after shaking off her