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Drug Raid in a Lighting storm.The atmosphere crackled with the aftermath. A sulphurous tinge lay on the edge of their scent, announced by the rain that started to hit their vests like bullets.
The barrels of guns were pointed at closed doors. Taut muscles shivered in frozen anticipation, the heavy rain plucked at their nerves until they could hear themselves crackling within.
A roaring white lined the figures of ten men. From their parted lips, breath mingled with the new wave of burnt air. A metallic taste settled on their tongue, a wisp of nervous blood swirled in their mouths.
Light beyond the windows glowed like embers. The silhouettes of guns were twirled like whip handles. As lightning passed, the outline of rabid, shouting mouths were accompanied by raucous shouts that ascended like a kettle on the boil.
Names passed venomously, the drunken stupors of arrogance and fury grew darker and denser. Lighting struck again, twice at once. Like whips frayed from one strike too many.
Writers Block- 265 wordsLines of gibberish are scrawled on the white paper. Symbols mesh with matted letters and numbers, her trembling hands cause the ink to bristle.
Her mind‘s bile is on the paper, confused, misspelt. Small hints of lucidity fly fleetingly, escaping birth with their cruel wile.
But there is no flawless verse, only the half skinned, half boned ideas of corpses slain in some inner battle, mangled by the pressure of their expulsion, her curse.
She throws herself against a wall. Black is hurled on the paper as black rage flows through her veins. Her visions vainly call.
Her ideas are crumpled for their imperfections, the orb of cracked hopes rolls to the littered floor.
On the mountain top of excellence, all the Greats beckon; unrolling their long, well acclaimed scrolls. She climbs in vain against the pull of a wallowing oblivion.
An icy void hollows her fingers and warps the words that arise. The emptiness crystalizes, staunching the flow of her thoughts. Snatches of slowly suffocating
Farmer's musingThere is a dream I cannot escape. A dream where my fields of plump corn shimmer and glint like a river of gold. Between a regal blue sky and gilded stalks, these colours of kings lull me further into the dream.
Then the alarm clock rings, it is a complaint and not a greeting, a prod to move my mind from my dream to the stark reality.
My young corn has prematurely aged, what should be a pale green sheen is a yellow, mottled paper crunching under my grasp like a child's fragile bones. It's drooping into the cracks as if it wants to return to its mother earth. But that earth is dead, broken under the heavy hands of greed.
Frost and fire comes and ravages cities and farms because of earth's waxing anger and quaking stability. But the only green things talked about are green dollars.
Politicians, sleek in word and gesture mesmerize all with honeyed words of support and unity. They are the proudest leaders in fair weather and the most debase deserters in foul storms. Their promises are the b
TSFS Chapter 4 part 1Janile pored over the data pad with hungry care, the days and nights passing like dreams. Sometimes, as Kass leaned in her doorway and watched her obliviously focusing on that pale glowing screen, he wondered if there was something else between her and this Revan: It was a question he would not ask, because he knew she would not answer.
One day, she called them together, and sitting at the head of the table, laid down the datapad looking upon it with sleep-starved eyes misty with joy.
"I know where Revan is." She smiled wanly.
"Where Revan could be." corrected Mission. "I want to find Rev just as much as you, but raising your hopes will never guarantee you results."
"Don't paint the Sith on the wall Mission, it is a glimmer of hope, I will not let you take that from me." She said lowly, as if she was a starved dog snarling at a rival for her bone.
Silence: the monster had manifested in her insecurity, and everyone now saw the shame that painted her face crimson.
Silieth- Contest entry- Theme- Relationships.It was a sea composed of the people who were missing the last piece of their lives; each one of these lost, lonely people with a puzzle piece instead of a hand, waiting to lock into another and complete themselves.
Some of them walked mournfully though the crowd with limbs splintered from a combination that violently failed. Some of them were still struggling to keep their hands together, their bodies quaking as their pieces started to slip each other's grasp.
As the creamy mass of people clotted and separated with time, most of the torn limbs were healed, but in some, the cracks crept insidiously to their core, and soon the fractured body crumbled as they screamed in silence.
He walked through the crowd with a splintered, quivering arm, injured horribly from a separation, and still trying to beckon his other half who was swallowed by the blankness.
Far away in another quarter of searching and broken people, She had tried hard to keep their pieces together, but he had left with a clear
A writers wings.An egg cracked; the ivory orb splintered as each delicate limb stretched out of its prison. The translucent fetus writhed in the warm morning air, and when the sunny beak finally found its voice, he screamed.
The pen scratched the paper, her unsure hands trembling as she imprinted her amateurish thoughts on the parchment, her ideas like a premature babe.
Days and nights circled the forest like dancing lovers; he cried with delight as his mother brought him the savory inhabitants of the forest, each rosy and plump piece of flesh feathering his wings and strengthening the flexible muscle beneath his gauzy skin.
She devoured the advice of others and thought of her ideas. She nursed her premature babe with the nourishment of experience borrowed from the wise script of the ancients.
He clambered to the edge of the nest, his vivid claws clasping the russet network of twigs as he peered below him: It was a world of luscious green, mottled with the rich ebony of fertile soil and
Tossed Salad.Shafts of illuminated rays stretched across the room, white bed sheets reflected the suns glory until it radiated like a holy veil. A pair of ebony eyelashes flicked off the lead of sleep; limbs stretched across the sprawled sheets and hands gathered folds which formed milky waves.
Bare feet floated above the floor before touching down, drowsy steps dragging across it before a splash of reality washed away the misty remnants of sleep.
The sun had bid the world a grand greeting and was now steadily curving across the sky. A bicycle was seen darting along the black tar. Porcelain hands grasping ebony handlebars as if she would be swept away as the world passed her.
She parked, tires warm and sticky from the heat, and walked into the vaulted market, an open cathedral for the reaped goods.
The beams of the building were skeletal, glowing with sunlight that cascaded through seams and slits in the roof until it looked as if the plump produce was streaked with molten gold.
Crimson apples nest
Sculpture.It started out as a block of stone, waiting to be born into something immortal that would last centuries of snow and sun. The vision in my mind was still blurry, I could hardly believe that this crass and blank stone could be molded into delicate cloth folds that formed mysterious shadows or delicate brows that either arched in laughter or furrowed in anguish.
I molded the shadows of my thoughts into the material; yet even after I had given it an echo of form it was still a faceless glob, uncertain of its future, and unsure of its steps.
My world rotated through sunny days and snowy hours. My hand kept on cultivating the white sterile stone, its hardness mocked me, soft tinkles of the hammer could not break its stubbornness. I forced upon it the stern and steady pounding of a chisel; stony flakes floating away on an unseen breeze.
When the sunlight reflected off my growing creation, my heart warmed with the pleasure of achievement, but clouds
Crushing Flowers (Male! Hungary x Reader)
(Male! Hungary x Reader)
(Male! Hungary x Reader)
Song(s) ‘Smile’ by telepopmusik
Trust me, it fits the theme PERFECTLY
A girl in her early twenties thrust open the doors of her office job.
“I can’t believe this!” How could something like this happen to me!?
What the hell did I do wrong!
I got strange looks from other people around me as they counted their blessings hoping that I wouldn’t lash out at them.
“Oh, shut up!” I yelled, and their accusing eyes turned away.
I felt the heel of my shoe crack by the sheer force in my strides down the streets of New York City.
Can't Swim (America x Reader x Prussia)
"Wanna go swimming, _______?"
"Nah, I'll pass."
"Why not? You look so good in the swimsuit."
"Shut up, Prussia!"
You covered up your two-piece with your (color) towel. Your cheeks began to turn the same shade as Prussia's eyes as you looked away, over to the sparkling blue ocean. The tan and yellow sand squished under your foot as you stood up with your towel wrapped tightly around your body, showing off your womanly curves.
"Come on, ____! The ocean's really warm! Just ask Australia," America encouraged you, stopping you as he pointed to Australia in the ocean, playing and diving like he was having the time of his life.
"I didn't come all the way from Germany's house just to watch you mope in a hot bathing suit," Prussia said, and then chuckled. "Not like I'm going back, either."
You laughed along with him, but then gained back your confidence and walked past America, pride in your steps.
"Why won't you swim with us?" America asked, grabbing your bare arm. You swat away his hand, not
Reader x Karkat: WhateverThe date is December 3rd, 2013.
The time: 5:45 a.m.
Everyone is sleeping, save a human named ___ ___ and a troll named Karkat Vantas.
You happened to be the human mentioned.
And, in fact, Karkat is your best friend!
He's also your crush, not that'd you tell him.
At least, that's what it USED to be. You think you've finally gathered the courage to admit it.
Emphasis on think.
You see, Karkat's been acting odd lately.
His usual 'fuck you' attitude was replaced more with a 'go the fuck away; I don't want to talk to anyone' attitude instead.
And, quite literally, it seemed the only word in his vocabulary lately was 'whatever'.
In all seriousness, no matter what you told him, he either did nothing, let out an artificial grunt, or responded with 'whatever'.
You were beginning to question what that word even meant.
"Karkat?" you poked the sleepy troll's shoulder, and he grunted. "I love you..." you said uncertainly.
He grunted again.
"You know I'm serious, right?"
"Karkat. I lov
France x Male!Reader [Commission for zoe-chan7][Male Name] [Last Name] was the prince of [Kingdom Name]. He was a rather handsome young man, complete with silky [hair colour] locks and dazzling [eye colour] eyes. He was the son of king Roderich Edelstein and Elizaveta Héderváry. Truth be told, he was adopted by the king and queen of [Kingdom Name]. [Male Name] was adopted when he was roughly ten years of age. Just a young, abandoned child. Roderich and Elizaveta had brought him their family, and brought him of them up as a respectable young man. [Male Name] was now eighteen, and was set to marry.
He was engaged to a princess from the neighbouring kingdom. He had never net her before, but he knew her name. She was Alice Kirkland, a Brit. From what [Male Name] was told, she had blonde hair and dazzling green eyes. He had tried to picture her in his mind for quite some time, but he was unable to conjure up a decent image.
He had never wanted this arranged marriage. As soppy as it sounds, he had wanted to marry out o
Air Vents Clint x ReaderAKA Five times you met Clint in the air vents and one time you didn’t
1 When you first moved into the tower
It was hard to believe it had been almost a week since your cousin Tony called to invite you to stay at his tower. It was even harder to believe that it also housed the Avengers for the time being. Of course you had only met Bruce and Steve, seeing as Thor was back in Asgard and everyone’s favorite assassins were on a mission.
“I wonder why Tony made this air vents so large.” You mused aloud as you easily crawled through them. It was like he was asking for you to sneak into his lab and re-paint his Iron Man glittery pink and glittery purple. You were so deep in thought that you never even noticed that somebody was in front of you until they cleared your throat.
“You must be (y/n).”
“That’s me and I’m guessing that you’re Clint.” You replied smiling at him after blowing a stray
Loki x (Deaf)Reader One-Shot
Loki x (Deaf)Reader One-Shot
A Fan-Fiction by ketzle
It took all of your willpower not to scream out in agony. The pain was excruciating. All you knew was something knocked you in the head, hard. Now all you felt was the infliction that was brought upon you. You had never felt anything like it. The pain was like a searing fire that pushed its way through your skull. You knew that you were crying, sobbing even, but you couldn’t hear that. You couldn’t even hear your own voice as you comforted yourself.
You screwed open your eyes to see bodies lying motionlessly around you. Cars were turned over on roads and night lamps were bent in places that were not normal. You tried to pick yourself up, but your body refused to move. So, you just lied there and took in the crystal blue sky.
You're Special (Egypt x Disabled!Reader)
"H-hello?" you asked when you heard a small knock on the door.
"Yes, room service," a quiet voice said behind the door.
"Come in," you said, getting up and trying to find your crutches. Your leg stump began throbbing as you hopped over to the door, opening it. You smiled as a tanned face made its way into your hotel room, pushing a cart in front of him.
You sighed silently as his eyes slowly crept over to your leg stump, bandaged up.
You got that by a boat accident, where a bratty 14-year-old boy crashed into your tiny boat, also causing slight mental retardness.
And you hated it when people questioned or tried to look at your stump.
You were still human, right?
"Thanks for the room service," you grumbled, now grumpy because his eyes were still on your leg. You hopped over to the bed, sitting on it.
"What happened?" the man asked suddenly.
Your eyes widened at the sudden question. Everybody who questioned your stump would either come up to you and have a slight conversation before slow
Japan x Fem Reader So Long Part 2“I’m so late,” you yelled as you sprinted across the street, “Mr. Kiku, please still be there!” you bumped into a countless number of people and was almost hit by 3 cars before finally reaching the sakura forest, “Hello, is anyone here?!” you called, “Mr. Kiku please, if you’re there answer me! Kiku, no. This is all my fault.” You fell to your knees and started to cry. You cried for a long time before a hand gently lay on your shoulder.
“_____-san?” you opened your eyes, looked up and there he was, at least you thought it was, it was hard to see through your tears.
“K-Kiku?” he gave a small smile and nodded. You were so overjoyed to see him that you that you hugged him and cried tears of joy “Oh Kiku, I was so scared I’d never see you again. I missed you.” Kiku blushed.
You’re in my personar space again.” You laughed as you slowly
Another Damsel Dilemma TrioYou know the drill by now. Three short stories of 1,500 words, each focusing on reader requests and/or OC's of other artists which I admire. Enjoy!
Squirrely and Softpaws
“So what daring adventures are you developing for our readers this week Dina?” Tom asked as he applied the finishing splashes of colour to another of his pictures.
Dina bit her top lip in frustration as she stared at the blank page on her computer monitor. “I’m really struggling to think of a new story this week. Eurgh, I hate writers block.”
Tom noticed her frustration, and abandoned his art to instead massage Dina’s shoulders through her purple polo top with the collar turned up. “Don’t worry about it gorgeous. You’ll get a surge of inspiration from somewhere I’m sure. Why don’t you put the writing away for a couple of hours and relax a bit?”
Dina found herself tempted by Tom’s s
Final ThoughtsMy trinkets and pictures are scattered around my shelves, at every turn photographs appear like small wormholes to the past, trinkets lie gathering dust like forgotten relics.
They are not dear, for they are weak imitations of the emotion felt in those times. Terrified of losing those sweet moments I attempted to preserve them in tangible things. Of these I have many, and confident of their immortality I had allowed the real to slip away from thought. My life is a swirling mass of memory; I lie here and remember little , save the few orbs of the sweetest remembrance like pearls glistening in a pile of decayed rubbish.
Eighty years of life wasted away in the cell I called life, even the gems of my thoughts are darkened, and it is not because death's shadow is finally looming great over me. They are flawed, incomplete, small faceless blobs that send only pleasant warmth rippling through my heart. I am grasping for sharper images, reaching in the dark for an ethereal thought that only exh
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More