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Timeless - PrologueHead Gamemaker Portamento Dew, The Capitol
The warm August air whipped around the Capitol, bringing a lazy sense of joy to the bustling metropolis. The citizens either walked the streets, taking full advantage of the technologically advanced facilities, thanks to the hard work of the twelve districts, or remained at home, sprucing themselves up. Women adorned their finest dresses, whilst gentlemen were dressed to the nines: the children were in their Sunday best.
And, even though one couldn't see it from the window of President Snow's manor, there was a quiet buzz of anticipation about the city. Each citizen was only half-heartedly enjoying their daily activities: each mind was elsewhere, yet at the same place. Nobody spoke of it, and everyone continued as normal, ignoring the anticipation in the back of their minds, out of blind fear that they were the only ones to feel it. But the reality was simple: no citizen of Panem could escape the anticipation. For tomorrow was Reaping D
Sun's Joy: Chapter Six - Bad End NightThe dance was off to a great start. Dirk and Ella's custom playlist had gone down brilliantly: so far, there hadn't been a single track anyone had groaned at. The refreshments were to die for, and the decorations captured the atmosphere perfectly.
Melissa sat at one of the long buffet tables, sipping from a plastic cup of iced tea. She had cleared a space around herself, and her laptop was plugged in, a charger cord extending to the socket on the wall behind her. A word document was open, several paragraphs in. The white colouration of the screen provided the brightest light source in the room: the only other lights came from the disco ball in the middle of the room.
She glanced at the screen again, reading the draft of the story she was writing so far: she had told herself that there were more important things to do, but she needed to write. It was the only thing keeping her grounded throughout all this madness.
“And so what if I didn't go back for him?” he cuttingly re
Bipertitus - PrologueLOCATION: LAND OF FLOW AND INFINITY
TIME UNTIL RECKONING: 00:07:12
Blood splattered the golden floor, the crimson flow only interrupted by a foot stepping into the mess. He didn't know why he was still walking: ascension had given him the gift of flight. Perhaps it was out of a longing for the way things used to be. Or perhaps he was just tired of all this.
Only six players remained alive, despite his efforts, and four of those were in a parallel timeline that only he could traverse. Sure, he should probably go see them, but then he'd be leaving her alone. And it would be entirely unfair to expect her to be able to handle the Black King alone.
Maybe this was a doomed timeline. It would make sense, given how quickly so many had died. And there was no way that having three destroyed Quest Beds was right either. But hadn't they been careful enough? They had followed the Denizens' instructions to the letter; they had avoided prototyping the First Guardian, and they had taken out
Sun's Joy: Chapter Five - Last-Minute Set-UpDing-dong! Ding-dong!
“Attention you bastards! It is now seven am, marking the end of Night Time. The cafeteria has been unlocked, and the lights turned on. Here's to another day of mutual killing! Upupu~”
Carlos opened his eyes as Monobear finished the morning announcement. The start of a new day. The third day in Sun's Joy Academy. The second day of the School Life of Mutual Killing. Had it only been that long? Already his old life felt a million miles away. But he soon realised this train of thought was only going to depress him further, so he got out of bed, and showered and dressed for the day.
After dressing, Carlos stood in the middle of his room for a moment, gazing at the sealed window which had been letting in sunlight only yesterday. Maybe he would never see the sun again. His gaze then rested upon his laptop, which was sitting on his desk, switched off. Without the internet, there was no real point to it. Still, just having it out gave him a sense of comf
Infinite - The Past (Sequel to Eternal--Spoilers!)
The early evening sun bathed the landscape in a deep golden glow. Plumes of smoke rose up in the distance, marking the nearest city. It still burned, as was the case across the country. The people had just been saved from perhaps the most insane tragedy to ever occur by a group called the league of Protectors. Their goal was to help the world recover. They had started by taking out the leader, and instigator, of this tragedy. The next thing to do was to rebuild what was destroyed, but even with foreign aid, it was estimated to be a decade before the country returned to its former glory.
Seven days had passed since Abbadon's helicopter had been gunned down, and had exploded. One week since the Protectors made themselves known.
There had been an emergency government formed, mostly compromised of the few political enemies of Abbadon that hadn't been killed.
Their first immediate action was to return the survivors who had fled to the south back to their northern homes. However, most people
Sun's Joy: Chapter Four - PreparationsMark walked along the hallway, the light bulbs replacing the sunlight that would have normally filtered through the now sealed windows. For some reason, a chill ran through him. It was fairly understandable to be like this, though: they had all just been trapped inside this building and told that if they wanted to see the light of day again, they'd have to commit a murder and get away with it.
The question on his mind was simple: was anyone actually going to go through with it? He hoped not, and if his interviews had been any indication, they were all good people.
“Good people can turn bad, though...” he told himself as he climbed the stairs back up to the second floor where the cafeteria resided. He wasn't even sure why he was heading in this direction, but it felt like the right way to go. His camera felt oddly heavy in his hands, as if the guilt of knowing he could have filmed a potential killer was manifesting itself as the weight of the equipment. No, he told himself.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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