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Permanent LinesThe position was not a comfortable one, and while Madison didn't fully understand all that was going on, she understood it's necessity. The room was sterile, white and chilly as she lay on her stomach, supported by a chair that was highly reminiscent of one she might find at the local dentist's, though modified to support her entire body more securely.
Any discomfort from the padded chair remained background noise as Madison tried not to focus on the scratching sensation from her back. The light chatter that the physcian beside her maintained was not enough, that was certain as she braced herself agains the sharp strokes, trying to prevent herself from shivering in pain. From what she could see from the corner of her eyes, Madison connected the sharp scratching that reached across her shoulders, along the top of her shoulder blades and now down her neck with the array of colored, unnaturelly stiff and sharp-ponted permanent makers that rested in a tray lined with sterile packagi
The Sound of DesperationIt had started as a counseling session, everyone meeting in a small group of age mates, but even after the first meeting, when they sat in silence, it was clear that something more was needed. For weeks they continued to meet twice a week, forced to sit in a circle in a room that was locked until the hour was up. After a month, they began to speak, finally giving voice to the depths of their souls, and the nightmares that lived within.
"I could kid myself into thinking I'm fine," Becca said, her voice starting steady despite the fact that she was the first to break the silence, "but I'm not. I'm tired of living these lies, and I just want to be done with it all. Everyone knows that a broken heart is blind, but no one really knows what to do with a broken brain. If it's not a vegetable, they shrug it off, saying it's fine, and tell you to do the same. It doesn't work that way. It just doesn't work that way. They say our bodies will heal, and that it will take time for
Living DreamsIf life is but a dream, what does that make our dreams? And if, not by your own will, each day becomes more of a nightmare than the last, what is it that makes us keep on pushing through? When the question of life becomes why, rather than how we struggle on for the next day’s dawning, why doesn’t anyone realize what’s really going on? For too long we’ve played their game, by their rules, and today that ends. All my fears, all my fears, my insecurities, anything that might have been used against me- they all fall away like tears when I contemplate the fact that each tomorrow brings a new day, each twenty-four hours closer to freedom. We all know that they’ll try to choke our rising hopes with fleeting fears carefully crafted to appear our own, but the fact that we know them not to be our own is a stronger force yet. We may not march against our enemies, our captors, but we shall stand as a strong tower to protect those who cannot yet stand alone. One
Drianus's choiceHe reached into his pocket, slowly wrapping his long fingers into a fist around the ring of his forefathers. Contemplating his options only revealed that, in the long run, he really had no choice. Sometimes, the words echoed in his mind as he forcefully ignored the memories of his surrogate father, sometimes, the only way to fight evil was to employ a greater evil whether one agreed with it or not. By the end of the day, only one thing would really matter: whether or not the throne remained in the family line.
If took a season of exile for people to realize just how corrupted things had become, so be it. He had seen exile, and very nearly raised his family within it's cool embrace. Drianus had spent many long agonizing hours turning things over in his mind, hoping to find another way for things to change, but found nothing. He would face battle tomorrow, leading the best of his men into the fray without a second thought. If giving his life in battle was required of him, it
Part of the JobThe sun gently warmed his back as he walked along the crowded street. He knew, though, that the pleasant feeling would not last long once he entered the apothecary that stood as the entrance to the rest of the Guild Halls. There was a certain satisfaction in a job completed in a silent and efficient manner, but Mortael held fast to the lingering taste of bitter regret that always followed his thoughts. The darkness of night only expounded them when he had nothing else to keep his thoughts away from the realities of his chosen line of work. The taste of regret was, as far as he knew, the only way that he could maintain his tenuous grasp of rational sanity. Silently, the assassin slipped through the stone-lined walls where the shadows from the torches danced in his wake. None would bother him this day, not unless he took the initiative and reached out to them first. A disturbed assassin was not to be bothered so soon after a completed mission, no matter what the reason.
The Blood OathI bought my fate straight from hell. What you need to understand here and now is that this is the embodiment of our fear, the vessel of our rage, and the harbinger of your doom. It may seem like a cut and dry matter, especially to one such as yourself, but know that it is anything but. Everything that we do and say is focused around that one concept alone; the sooner you figure out what that means for yourself, the better, as you'll actually start to fit in with us, strange as we are to your kind. My fate, the mirrored reflection of the fate of my people, is one that circumvents generations at a time, insidious weaving its way through our history. This oath, whether you acknowledge it or not, will affect your every dying day as we attempt to make the best of what's been left for us in this wasted world.
I chose my fate the day that I answered the king's call with heart and soul, and I now pay the price for what I have done in answering the Blood Oath's infernal need fo
Returning HomeI woke up to despise the world that I once loved. The sound of the fan in the next room is deceptively similar to the sound of the gentle rain that has gently woken me these past few mornings. For one blissful moment longer, I can pretend that things have not changed, and that when I open my eyes, the dim autumn lights will be filtered through the thick canvas wall of my rug lined pavilion. The thought is a comforting one until the undisturbed quiet is broken by the harsh blaring of my painfully electronic alarm, reminding me that cannot be so.
Blindly, I reach out and silence it before rolling over, pulling my heavy wool cloak back over my head in the same motion. It is entirely too early to face the fact that I'll be pouring myself a bowl of overly processed, prepackaged and artificially preserved cold cereal. Instead, I'd much rather it be my usual boiled grains prepared over a crackling fire, built from yesterday's carefully covered coals. It is an odd realization, but I
Rise of the Ice Kings: The Dream"Play for me, Brandhol." Rathiel begged upon the second evening of eldest brother’s short respite at home."Play your whistle again, please? It's been so long since you played!"
"That's because I've been gone so long, silly," he replied, digging out his tin whistle from an inner pocket of his thick cloak. After a few short trills to warm up his fingers, he began to play a song that seemed to grow and mature as it progressed. Rathiel grinned and began to dance a few bars into the seemingly light-hearted tune.
The children's uncle, Hedhel, sent home from war on permanent furlough lay on the rug, dozing before the dying fire. At the sound of his nephew's playing, he bolted upright, staring wildly at Brandhol for a moment before calming slightly. "I think it's time that you find your bed, Rathiel," he said hoarsely.
Silien looked up from her darning in surprise,"Goodness, child!" she exclaimed, "You should have been in bed almost an hour ago! Hurry and change now, I'll be along
The Final StrawJason Rathen almost ignored the gentle taping on his office door, thinking that the sound originated from further down the hall, but the hesitant sound came a second time, only slightly more audible. Rathen stood and opened the door to be greeted by the person that he least expected and most hoped to see. "Hello, Jessie!"
Jessie nodded, worrying her lower lip in thinly veiled distress. "I... I'm sorry about practice, earlier," she said, rapidly forcing the words out.
"Why don't you come in," Rathen suggested, gesturing towards the other chair in his prop- and book-stuffed office, "and we can talk about what happened earlier this afternoon, if you'd like."
The suggestion was more of a mild order, but Jessie either didn't notice, or ignored it as she nodded and gingerly perched on the edge of the offered chair, grasping her books against her chest.
Professor Rathen took his time in mostly closing the door, and resettling a stack of papers that had been distu
The Grave of GodThis crater marks the place where God and the adversary annihilated each other. No more God. No more adversary. There's nothing here now. Just me.
If you were to head west from here and climb the lip of the crater, you'd find yourself in a desert, where the sand dunes gather against the ruins. There are mountains on the horizon, pale blue. They look as distant as the moon, and they very nearly are.
In those mountains lurk creatures, ancient and colossal, constructed at the adversary's behest. They barely move anymore, for there is no-one left here to kill. Though their bodies have become part of the landscape, their eyes never close. They will lie waiting for all eternity.
Beyond the mountains are the riverlands, where used to be settlements and forests, all of which have long since rotted. North you might find what remains of Telassar, the capital city of the angels. Half underwater now, with its mighty bridge broken, only the palace stands proud of the sea, and it too is dead.
Unicorn Rights Activism FFM29I frowned, watching the news anchor. Another unicorn hunting group was set up in India to retrieve the horns for their medicinal properties. The camera panned to a lifeless unicorn body, drenched in its own blood. I grimaced. I looked at Oliver and decided, “I’m going to be a unicorn rights activist.”
Oliver deadpanned, “Oh, exciting.”
“No, I’m serious. What they’re doing is unfair.”
Oliver looked uninterested. “They’re just animals. It’s not like they know what’s happening to them.”
“Animals have a right to live too.”
“God, you’re stupid! You can’t do anything to change this. We need the horns to stop AIDs. Are you pro-disease now?”
“No, of course not! There just has to be a better way than slaughtering them.”
“You can’t just hop on board with every cause you hear about. You have to pick your battles, and this is a stupid one.”
The Earth-Queen's SorrowThe earth-queen's son was born in springtime, and his birth was heralded with crocuses and fresh green and a splendor of sunlight. Through summertime he grew, golden and beautiful, dearer to her than the wind itself.
Then autumn came, and the leaves ran red with his blood. He fell, and withered, an empty husk of brown.
Winter came: in her sorrow, the earth-queen swept the world with white. Snow would be his shroud and his finery. The chill in the air would mirror the cold emptiness in her heart. Ice would cover her lakes and rivers and the wounds of her soul; and her frozen tears would fall from the heavens as tiny flakes of crystal.
The winter drew on, and many died under the cold weight of the earth-queen's sorrow. At last the people chose a hero to go to her, to beg for mercy.
They fitted her with fatted leather boots, with a thick leather vest, with fur-lined gloves and a fur-lined cloak. “You go into the heart of winter,” they told her. “Give no quarter to the co
How the Fox Got His Cry Long ago, when the forest was young, a fox was walking amongst the trees. He had not been walking far when he came across a little frog croaking by a puddle. Immediately, the fox seized the frog, and would have swallowed it down in one gulp if the frog hadn’t spoken.
“You may as well let me go, fox,” said the frog. “I can make myself far too big for you to eat.”
“Go on, then,” said the fox, “show me.”
So the frog gulped in many breaths to swell itself, and it did indeed look too big to eat.
But the fox saw how it was done. “This is nothing but air,” scoffed the fox, and he swallowed the frog breath and all.
The fox had not walked much farther when he came across a little squirrel nibbling pinecones on the path. Immediately, he seized it, and would have swallowed it down in one gu
La CreppyShcool: Cap.6
En el Capitulo Anterior:
Vika: La... Lau.... Laughin... Ja..ck -dijo entre cortada respiro y dijo- Launghin Jack
Yeimi: genial -dije sonriendo y despues el celular sono de Vika y ella rebiso y me dijo
Vika: es de Splendor dijo que "EL" esta aqui y no viene solo vamos -yo acenti y nos fuimos donde Splendor al llegar vi a "El" pero no estaba solo estaba con Zalgo....
cap.6: descubrienndo quien es "El" Zalgo... quiere a Yeimi como sirvienta, ____ se enamora de
Hoodie y E. Jack, Nos vamos a Colombia!!!!!!!!
POV. Yeimi (todavía sigue narrando)
nos fuimos donde Splendor al llegar vi a "El" pero no estaba solo estaba con Zalgo....
"El": Hola Yeimi -dijo con una sonrisa yo hiba a abrazarlo pero recorde que estaba Zalgo
Yeimi: hola... Señor Zalgo -dije lo ultimo arrondillandome
Vika: señor -dijo tambien arrodillandose
Splendor: chicos yo los dejare hablando con su permiso Señor vamos Vika
FFM29: August 5thJuly 27th, 2013---Karl Whitney is arrested for the kidnapping and suspected murder of Elsie Waters. Ghostly figure is spotted on the beach by local crackpot. Might be legit.
July 28th, 2013---Dreamed about roses in the water. Kauka needs more kitty litter---
Noelani snapped her notebook shut. The ghost had no name, but he floated above the dock like he owned it. She wasn't impressed. It was well past the witching hour and her damned cat was getting persnickety.
“Mreow,” Kauka said. He clawed at the boards, ears flat as he cat-growled. He kept both eyes fixed on the hovering phantasm. Once again, Noelani was glad he couldn't speak English.
“You're a nut, you know that,” Noelani said, “He's dead, he can't hurt you.”
Kauka flicked his tail and sat glaring. Like all cats, he knew a lie when he heard it. Most ghosts couldn't hurt the living, but this one could. This one was different. Noelani had a feeling Kauka was going to punish her later for suggestin
Pregunta a los Creepys : Tomo 3Vos de presentador de casos de Familia: bienvenids a Pregunta a los Creepys con sus anfitrionas la Escritora y Yulanis - aperecemos por una puerta y entramos a esena los Vocalois sentados al igual que los Creepys mientras el publico aplaudiendo
Escritora: como estan hermoso publico y watchers!!!!-saluda a todos
Yula: bueno el dia de hoy tenemos barias preguntas Yeah!!! :T Ok me callo Bueno comensemos con las primeras preguntas del Dia -saca su table y empiesa a rebisar los mensagges- :iconpokudrato: nos pregunta 5 pregunatas creo -rebisa otra vez- si son 5 y la primera es nina quieres ser mi amiga porque te gusta el anime y juntas dominaremos el mundo y destruiremos a los anti-otakus XD solo amigas ok -susurra- considera lo otro
Nina: claro seremos amigas y dominaremos juntas el mundo y mataremos a Justin Bieber buajajajajjaaj -risa sicopata y todos la miran haci .-. - ups me pase
Jeff: esa es mi aprendis!!!! -dice mientras le hace pat pat en la cabeza(?- la segunda Yula
The Prettiest StarShe touched the stone, and the stars fell down.
The world seemed to come crashing down with them, the storied tales in those fake glass stars tumbling and twirling, beautiful beacons that had brought faith to thousands; the whistling as they fell sounded like the cries of the newly hopeless.
The woman at the pedestal stood without a single twist of regret. Her posture was certain, her hands steady. Blood soaked her face, matching the crimson of her cloak as it billowed around her in the darkness, as the air filled with the white explosions of the stars around her, shattering as they sent glass splintering across the huge domed room.
"Seline, stop!" a red-haired woman screeched from the doorway, too late to stop her. She stumbled backward, shielding her eyes.
Bodies lay in the room around the pedestal Seline had just touched, broken. Their white capes were stained red, and their red-crossed shields lay shattered and abandoned. Seline's sword was stained with that blood, steaming in
FFM31: Sweet HydraFiona woke up in the body of the knight who killed her. Her real body lay several feet away, all nine heads unevenly severed. She fought for composure as the Order of the Nine cut the scales from her back.
Her new body felt small and mortal. She felt it slowing down, dying in the way only an immortal could. She felt time slipping away.
But Fiona could wait.
Ulrich hung back as they carried foul pieces of the beast to the carts. The hydra was gone, slain in fair combat by his pious brethren. A part of him felt justified in taking the life of so terrible a creature.
Another part of him screamed for penance. He felt something dark touch his thoughts, coiling like a snake.
He unsheathed Sword as the first of eight voices spoke.
King Archibald trembles as the fire rages.
“For mercy's sake, spare us,” he says.
For mercy? The One's fluid laughter splits into nine parts. She soothes us, words spilling over the false king's voice, drowning him out. Kill kill kill for us, the One sin
Picnic Suppers with FriendsThe hearty and slightly sweet scent of freshly baked bread wafted over the row of merchant stalls, subtly drawing us towards the next row, where both the show-cased blacksmiths and baker had set up their shops.
"I don't know about you two, but my stomach's about to turn inside out on itself," Captain said as we meandered through the crowds, browsing our choices.
"As is mine," I agreed wholeheartedly, "and if you two aren't opposed to something rather hearty, I'll treat you to the perfect cure."
"If you're talking about the baking bread that I've been smelling for the past ten minutes," Ranelwen replied. "There's no need to ask twice!"
"Perfect," I replied. "If I'm not much mistaken, I think that's a rye bread of some kind in the ovens now."
"I"ll chip in with some soup to split between us," the pirate added. "Make a meal of it."
"Sounds lovely," I agreed. "Meet us back here in a bit to find somewhere to settle down?"
After her nod of agreement, we split ways as Ranelwen and I lif
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