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the dogs and their starsΕδώ είχε γίνει μεγάλη γιορτή
εδώ σ' αυτό το σώμα,
σ' αυτή τη μνήμη.
Εδώ, κάπου εδώ
η άνοιξη φιλούσε με λαχτάρα
μ' εφηβική ντροπή μα και με θέληση,
εδώ που μετάνιωσαν οι πάντες τώρα
when sea-urchins dieΟύτε πως έσπασε θυμάται.
Μα χύθηκε απ' το κέλυφός του το κόκκινο λειψό μυαλό του
και ξεδίψασαν κι έφαγαν και πληθύνθηκαν
όλα τα πλάσματα που δεν τα βλέπει ανθρώπου μάτι,
που δίχως μάτι
unbornΣ' ένα συρτάρι βρήκε εν τέλει τη νότα που έλειπε απ' το παλιό τους πιάνο. Τη δοκίμασε για να δεί αν ταιριάζει, κι εκείνη κλείδωσε μ' έναν μικρό μικρό θόρυβο. Κι η νότα που έπαιξε ήταν βαρειά κι
rubbish“I said to them… don’t buy me any more books. I’m finally done with them- da me la vuelta al mundo” sang newly graduated Patricia as she struggled with her skates, too full with pure un-diluted spirit to apply her usual haste and rigour, the haste and rigour, the severity and anxious sensibility that had gotten her through her academic years unscathed. But there was in fact a perplexing little something behind her moderate, contained demeanour which made her cringe comically and sourly at the sun or anything bright and beautiful. Something akin to a pebble in one’s shoe.
Patricia regarded her successes at all different levels as a kind of accident, a misunderstanding in the distribution waiting to be discovered; then with all due courtesy and irrevocable effectiveness the awards of her strenuous but insincere efforts would be withdrawn and returned to the intended recipient: someone much smoother, more docile and clever. Someone perhaps who would no
lethe will come i will rememberLethe will come; I will remember:
the cries from the heart of the sea
the island's voice:
I have answered again and again. I have forgotten again
and remembered again.
And I have thrashingly been reminded of my forgetfulness.
In the end we are asked to fight for that which we have come to love with the greatest effort.
Our unforgotten beastly truths, like sharp white steep rocks,
Like the way we fall with ease and gratitude
The magnitude of our illusions being definitely analogous to the magnitude of our fall.
When I met this island I slept a dreamless sleep,
Like a wretch, like a compromised civil exhibit, like a broken circus animal
-No hopes of retoothing the painfully tranquil beast;
That obese piece of mythological
Or stellar refuse.
When I met this island
It pierced my heart with its broken trees
Its ragged smiling skin
Its blissful cruelty
-answering only to life, only to the unassuming but unrelenting vicious urge to be absurd, hopeless and
an unfinished sentence (silly o'clock)i would sometimes hear her singing to herself at silly o'clock in the evening. she would always assume that the night is young, the night is empty and soul-less as she, as spoiled and pretty and ruined as she, as unloved and hopeful as she.
as burdened with health, intelligence and promise as she.
her sleeplessness was a testimony to the vastness of the earth, and human stupidity, and the agony of feet aching with dance and wanderlust, driven by a head that is full of a tangled yarn, an unkempt mass of strings of thoughts, knots and nodes that are obsolete empty terminals, from whence once things flew, things of all matter and physical constraints simply flew.
but now the practice of defying gravity has been pronounced superfluous and null.
i would hear her singing and i would guess her face in a nearly tactile manner.
i would guess the falseness and the eagerness. i would guess the gritted teeth. i would guess the tense brow and the glistening eyes. i would guess the elegant disgrace,
GG 2: A Glorious StuffingGrace sat on the couch in the living room reading a book, relaxing by letting herself drift off into her novel. Her bright purple eyes from her contacts flicked back and forth, absorbing each and every word and forming her own world from them. Months had passed since the incident with her sister Gloria that involved her being blackmailed to being her servant. She tried to put the even out of her mind since then though, and continued on with her usual everyday activities. She continued to read in the cozy and dim lit living room until her mother entered the room from hallway.
“Okay Gracie, the food should be about done and we have plenty more in the pantry if you need it.” Her mother said as she pulled her purse over shoulder. It was Friday night and Grace had invited a few friends over for a small get together to celebrate the end of their test week in school. Her parents also decided to have a night out and were going to be gone for quite a while.
Oh thanks mother, that
Reader x KnB: Holiday job Chapter 16
Author's note: My sommer holidays just started and I'm in this situation of being overtired, because I watch anime the whole night
f/n = first name
l/n = last name
e/c = eye color
h/c = hair color
f/c = favourite color
The next day
The life with my crutches is way easier now that have them for a while. Although the pain is not so strong every time I move. That’s why life is more comfortable for me and walking around is not such a big problem any more.
Walking out of my bathroom after doing my hair I slowly make my way over to my bed just when a knock on the door is heard and “I’m coming in.”
Dumbfounded by this sudden intruder I froze in place and watch the door gets opened. This day the one who brings me my breakfast is Akashi.
Stepping inside first he looks at the bed with an emotionless expression. Then he looks worried, because I’m not laying there and after that his features turn angry when he notices me standing on the other side of the room.
PVC Demons - Written InfoAPPEARANCE: Skin and body
Their skin color can be a bright color, but not to the point where its an eye-rape. ( so this means nothing raibow ). Mostly their skin consists of about 3 colors in which one is the main skintone, and the other two the markings.
Usually the main skin tone is a lighter one, while the markings are usually darker.
As for markings, they can vary from stripes, to blotches, to spots, and much more.
They always seem to be having FIVE finger-toes and normal human hands with five fingers, though they're adorned with sharp black claws.
PVC demons get their name for the black PVC clothing they always seem to wear.
Every PVC monster owns a mask, either it be normal or a gas-mask. But its not to hide a foul mouth or anything. They just have a normal mouth really, the only oddity in it being is that they have a black tongue and sharp teeth.
The mask and pants are both ALWAYS black, though it may have some bright colored extra's. ( in example, additiona
Sidathe Esphimel: Bio (Remake)
Name: Sidathe Esphimel
Hometown: Elmysia, the City of Riches
Weight: Hates to reveal
Eyes: Light Blue
Personality Traits: Spoiled, selfish, sarcastic, rude and immature. She is mean in the outside but inside, she has a soft side and is kindhearted and cares about others but always hides her sweet nature. She shows that she has a fondness of foxes and wants one of her own someday.
Likes: Treasure, money, being wealthy, foxes, having whatever she wants, eating course meals with no limit.
Dislikes: Poor quality products, being called "cute", not getting things her way, being poor, not eating enough food courses to satisfy her hunger.
Attributes: She is an expert katana user with excellent melee skills is sword fighting combat. She is atheletic and agile.
Weaknesses: Overconfidence gets the best of her,
Revenge-Behind the ScenesAdrian looked at the ground. "Well...you see...Jordan and I were very close..." he smiled slightly. "And...we found that we are alike." Adrian looked up at the brothers as his eyes flashed a familiar, haunting crimson.
"CUT!!!" Velvet yelled into her megaphone. Backstage workers came onto set and began to gather props and roll out the scenery.
"Jordan!?" Adrian exclaimed before kneeling down on the grave Jordan was buried under.
"Can someone get me out?" Jordan's muffled reply called, and two men began to dig away the dirt that was placed above him and his coffin.
Velvet got up from her seat and brought the megaphone to her mouth. "That's a wrap!" she called before heading towards the dressing rooms of the stars of Revenge. She had just finished her sequel to the famous story, and she had plans for a third.
The young fox hybrid fixed the beret on her head and knocked on Dan's door. There was then a series of self-praises and laughs from the
Testing Ch.3 (Revenge Back/Side Story)The next morning, Jordan awoke to voices outside of his room. He sat up and looked around, realizing he was still in Dan's lab. He figured Dan was discussing with his parents.
Quietly, Jordan got out of bed and approached the door before cracking it open. He peered outside, and he saw Dan standing before the door talking to Herobrine and Katharine. Jordan stayed quiet and remained hidden behind the door, listening in on their conversation.
"...I don't think punishment is helping his condition," Dan said, fixing his glasses. "Sheobadr seems to get energy from what he feels. If his emotions get too out of control, it could become dangerous."
Katharine glanced at Herobrine, who remained silent.
Dan looked down at the floor. "I still wish to experiment on him. He's not willing to go back as of now. Of course, you can always try to get him back, but I doubt there will be high success," he put in.
"We still want to talk to him." Herobrine replied.
"Very well," Dan said, stepping aside.
-JUEVES 3:00 AM-
-Agencia Secreta num.15-
Sonidos proviniendo de los computadores en esa gran sala, maquinas, armas, todo lo que un buen espía utiliza, sin olvidar los relojes para que vean la hora exacta. Varias personas trabajaban a pesar de que era muy temprano, una jovencita de aproximadamente unos 19 años iba directamente a la sala de prácticas, donde se encontró con una chica pelirroja que practicaba la puntería de sus armas, mirándola con asombro, ver como jalaba el gatillo y daba muy cerca del blanco exactamente, con el minúsculo sonido de su voz, volteo de inmediato mostrándola en la mira haciendo que esta diera un pequeño salto.
-¡BAJA TUS ARMAS FLYNN!- Dijo mientras se cubría la cara con sus manos.
-Ah, eres tú-
Comenzó a bajar sus armas, de eso soplo su flequillo haciendo que se levantara y quedara como normalmente lo tiene, guarda sus armas en su cinturón que estaba alrededor
Beryl's GlyphsBy: D. R. Nyan-chan
What are Glyphs?:
The type of glyphs Beryl uses are like circuits for magical energy. The design created via a magical medium (glyph sticks in Beryl's case) determines the effect and a small bit of compatible energy is all that's needed to serve as the trigger. Most glyphs are one-time use, but there are exceptions and variations to the trigger conditions such as a time delay or dead man's switch.
There are also glyphs that are aligned with a certain element and in order to work, they require at least a symbiotic association with said element. For example, a water user can activate a wind or ice elemental glyph, but not a fire or lightning type. Beryl doesn't have to worry about this due to her Chaos alignment being practically universal.
If some phenomenon is preventing magic from being used, glyphs can still be drawn, but will usually remain dormant. Likewise, glyphs that depend on internal power supplies lose their effec
Bucky X Reader: Facing My Demons (part 3)The drive was just as long as it had been before. Bucky stayed quiet in his seat, his eyes staring at the road ahead. The conversation was very limited so you started fiddling with the radio. You weren't one to listen to music during car rides since you thought it was distracting, but this time you wanted something to help loosen the quiet tension in the air. Bucky paid no mind to your constant dial twisting so you assumed he was okay with it.
You flipped through several stations, pop, country, rock, and even some good 80's music, but when you flipped past a classical station Bucky quickly asked you to turn it back on.
You did as he asked and listened as Frank Sinatra's voice filled the car as he sang 'Our Love'. Boy, how old was this station?! This was something your grandparents would've listened to. You almost wondered aloud but looked over and saw that Bucky was no longer sitting stiffly in his seat, looking ahead at the endless road. Instead he was leaning back, his shoulders ease
cosmonaut fishbowlPerhaps the one thing Patrick Shore could do well enough in his life was to run. He would lower his head -whether it be with helplessness, determination, humility or a mystical greatness, or all at once, it was difficult to pin down- and barely looking he would take himself where he had been seen running before, but he never noticed whether he was noticed, except for the occasion when he would pass Andrea Storm, a divinely cold cryptic creature with a permanent sound cloud around her head and a half dark bitter haze of premature sophistication in her eyes.
Andrea's eyelashes stuck together of too much mascara, she would grit her teeth painfully behind her perfect but always solemn lips, and she couldn't swim inspite of her resemblance to mermaids and sirens, but Patrick was condemned by his sheer compulsive speed to remain oblivious to this information whenever he would equate himself to lightning, whirlwind and stampede in her presence. Usually in vain, since Andrea was deaf, as one i
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