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11. SadnessThey say sadness comes from a feeling of disadvantage, loss and helplessness. I dont feel disadvantaged in any way, I havent lost a thing except for maybe a few coins in favour of a bottle of sweet juice, and I deffinitely dont feel helpless. But I feel sad. So what am I, outer-deffinitionally-sad? I dont know where this feeling came from, but all of a sudden, as if it had been in the air, I felt sad, and the feeling hasnt left me since then, a few days ago. I walk around the world as if I were in a bubble, as if that bubble softened every sound except for those of cars roaring and people yelling, softened every touch, so that mostly I feel nothing. Its as if my whole body had fallen asleep, like when your foot tingles and you can poke it with something sharp and youll only feel that somethings touching your foot, but not what and how much that hurts or feels good. What I do know is that I no longer want to feel th
He wore a pink dress of the finest silk, courtesy of a close friend. But what good did the dress do if he couldnt wear it in public? He wanted people to see him, but, most of all, he wanted to walk in the gardens of the palace without disruption.
His dad would never allow. a man does not dress in womens clothes. A man, a man of royalty like you, above all, must always defend his dignity and honor, which you destroy completely by wearing those dresses He would say somehting like that, surely, and then he would forbid dresses to be brought into the palace if he didnt posess a key to the cloest they were to be stored in.
All Frank wanted was a walk around the gardens in the lovely pink dress his friend Jonatan had bought him. So, to try to make his wish come true, he called in a conference with Jonny and Will. They were the only 2 who knew about his obsession.
The plan was good, and they hoped it wouldnt fail.
The hole on the other side of the pal
9. DoomI sat there apathetically motionlessly staring at the shadows flickering over the graffiti-covered walls 20 feet away from me. I squinted as I suddenly saw a shadow coming towards me, becoming larger and larger until some evil person stood in front of me blocking my sight.
YOU! Evil creature! Will you stand aside, I MUST observe the shadows or else they will flee!
He sat down beside me, but his intrusion had scared them all away and all my precious work of over a century had dissipated into thin air. I could KILL him! I noticed I was strangling him when his hand fell on my thigh, the pervert! I let him go, he had to be alive to be scolded, after all. The yelling didnt serve to bring him to his sense, though. He kept trailing his hand up and down my thigh, and then, suddenly, he straddled me! I lost all my wits right then and slapped the ignorant being across the face. First he bereft me of my lifes efforts, then he mocks me, and now he tries to seduce me!
8. Novel Tis a novel way of looking at life, it is.
Indeed, I agree, yet, is it in accordance with the Holy Bible?
Sir, your disciples shall have to figure that out, because, with all due respect, I have not enough knowledge of the Holy Bible to be judge upon such delicate matters.
Very well, I shall set 3 of my monks to the task of analyzing the problem at hand thoroughly.
Yes, but do have them proceed with discretion, I dont want rumors to set out into the city about the respectabilty of my palace
Of course, they will work with the highest secrecy, and noone shall know what they are about.
Very well, so it be then. And now, there was something else you asked of me?
Yes, indeed. But I believe we should go into more private rooms for that
Of course. Let us go into my chambers. Come.
7. PiratesWe were pirates, travelling through the seas of the mind and taking what we wanted. There was so much non-useful stuff that eventually we had to give out a few brains per a million people that would contain all the bullshit thoughts. The good ones were archivated in the Great Secretary of Whiteness. Us, the elite group of the Collectors' disciples, were destined to go out there and pick up the White Ones. The Boredoms were to lisen to all the thoughts we dropped in, a tedious work, very boring and monotonous. The excitement of my job was the adventure. I have witnessed many brilliant thoughts, I've seen their creation, seen how the cells connected and rejoiced when I successfully pulled the fresh thought from the mind. Some were really egoistic about their thoughts, they just wouldn't let go. I hated when that happened, because sometimes the cells would mutate in a matter of seconds and start biting me.
Todays my last day of work, then I leave for my vacations. So, think!
Ah, there's o
6. PessimisticSlow currents of air forced themselves through the small window. The others were all closed. It was hot and humid, very humid. She could have sworn they were in the tropic, but was it so? No, they werent. But the weather suited the situation in a twisted way.
Smiles and laughter had gone with her. Fun and happyness had packed their bags and left. They didnt know how to go on, if there was even a future.
Their black clothes nearly choked them, but she wouldnt let them wear anything else, and they had nothing else, either. It wasnt fitting for these children to walk around in black. They should run away, they should flee. But she wanted to stay, she didnt let them. How often had they begged her, and she had always responded the same way. The bruises on their backs would never heal if she didnt stop. And to make her stop they would have to stop telling her they had to leave, now. But they didnt want to give up, and they knew very well they wouldn&
La CortinaSiempre se había movido, y nunca me había dado cuenta. Se movía en olas lentas, como si estuviese respirando lentamente, como lo hacen los ancianos. "Labored breathing filled the air of the small room, it sounded shallow, as if many holes had been punctured into the lung". No había sonido alguno, nunca había habido, y no supuse que iría a haber algún día. Sólo el movimiento. Como un barco, meciéndose sobre la tranquilas olas del mar caribe, sospechando absolutamente nada mientras los marineros duermen y sueñan de casa, o de islas tropicales llenas de mujeres bellas.
Como una madre que baila lentamente con su hijo en brazos para que duerma, cantándole con su dulce voz una canción de cuna, la más bella. Como la suave y lenta canción de cumbia en aquel restaurante remoto en mitad del desierto, casi abandonado, casi solitario, tan lleno de vida.
Yo estaba barriendo la casa como me lo había pedido mi madre cuand
4. Change4. Change
It had always moved, and I had never noticed. It moved in slow waves, as if it were breathing slowly, like old people do. 'Labored breathing filled the air of the small room, it sounded shallow, as if many holes had been punctured into the lung'. There was no sound, there had never benn, and I assumed there would never be. Just the movement. Like a ship, rocking on the tranquile waves of the Carabian sea, suspecting absolutely nothing while the sailors sleep and dream of home, or of tropical islands full of beautiful women.
Like a mother that dances slowly with her son in her arms so he sleeps, singing a sleeping song to him in her sweet voice, beautiful. Like the soft and slow cumbia song in that restaurant in the middle of the desert, almost abandoned, almost solitary, so full of life.
I was sweeping the house as my mother had asked me when I noticed. The curtain had ceased its movement, and it was then that I noticed that it had always moved. I never knew how, but I knew i
3. Content3. Content
It would be disastrous.
There had not been enough rehearsals, he didnt know his text, and he didnt even want to participate. It had been his best friends idea, Matts. At the diner, Pennys, they had found it a good idea, but now, 3 months later and a lot more nervous, he found it had nothing good about it at all. No, nothing. He wanted to get it over with, with as few public humiliation as possible, and then he wanted to disappear for at least half a year. Why had he ever agreed to do this? Hed known the older kids would think he was a fag for doing this! Why did he expose himself to the school in tights and reciting heroic lines, then?
Well, of course, he could argue that he had had no idea that the play to be put on stage was Robin Hood, but he could have informed himself before recklessly joining the drama club. How ignorant of him! At least Matt was in it with him, but that didnt help much, because he was playing the k
~ Unique Human - Izaya Orihara x Reader ~
"Oh, [Name]-chaaan~" The raven-haired informant's voice rang throughout the large room. No answer. A small grin appeared on your face as you heard him get up from his chair and approach the sofa you were currently occupying. Stopping directly in front of you, a pair of crimson eyes bore down at you.
"Hello Izaya-kuuun~" You finally answered, mocking him in a sing-song voice.
"Where is it?"
"What on Earth could you be referring to, Izaya-kun?" You asked, trying to hide a smile from your boyfriend's obviously irritated state.
"My cell phone, [Name]-chan. Where did you put it this time?"
From the very first moment you met him, Izaya took every possible opportunity he had to annoy or tease you in one way or another.
After a month or so of his relentless tactics, you decided to start giving him a taste of his own medicine by getting a certain angry, street sign wielding ex-bartender to catch the informant off-guard.
Claiming you were an 'exceptionally interesting human', you slowly d
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 1Marisa hesitated, anxious suddenly, before opening the doors. She looked down at the keys in her hand, trying to get past this nervousness, playfully pinching the meat of her fat, flabby belly with the other. She shouldn't be so nervous, she knew this club perfectly, she'd worked here for a good six months, this should be easy.
Only, it wasn't, because what was behind that door was new. It was hers now, and she had plans.
For a second, she just stood there, nervous, but all of those concerns flew away only seconds after opening the door. She just looked, wide-eyed, and excited now. It was better than she'd imagined. Not finished yet, though, it just didn't seem quite done, she couldn't tell why. Eh, she'd figure it out later. She called back out the door, "Come on in here, Gwen, check it out!"
A few seconds later, Gwen came in, bigger than ever, looking positively massive as she playfully dragged the giggling mass of the helpless, struggling former manager of Porker's, Jo
Cheryl's Night ClubbingCheryl smiled when she accepted her third drink, a long island iced tea, her favorite, from a lusty young man passing her by, but winced when she sat back down, accutely aware of how close these shorts were coming to non-existance.
Her rump, overfed and under-worked, fattened up through a consistent theme of overindulgence and relaxation, was terrorizing the seams of these soft, fabric boyshort panties she let masquerade as club attire. She could feel her overfed stomach, fat and well-tended, pressing in front of her, sagging down just a bit more than she was okay with.
She clutched the drink to her chest tightly, pressing it between the plump, generous globes of her chest, resting the bottom of the glass on the convenient swell of her soft stomach, shivering a bit as the cold, icy glass came in contact with the exposed area of her cleavage. She set her back against the wall behind the bench, sliding down, slowly, praying the stitches would stay together, until she felt her cheeks maki
Good Ol' Days - TGThings were getting rather tough for Nick Kellins. At the ripe old age of 49, the big fifty was looming over his head. A bad construction injury left him rather immobile and confined to a wheelchair. His four kids had all but abandoned him due to the constant attention he needed; at least that’s what he told himself to ease the pain. Nick’s once thick blonde hair had faded to a dull gray, mostly from stress and the meds he was taking to help with said stress.
He let out a cough as he wheeled himself over to the dining room table which had the mornings newspaper sprawled over it. The old college he had attended was celebrating their recent football championship win and was headlining the news.
“What I wouldn’t do to go back in time and do it all over again…” he sighed while reading over the article.
Nick kept reading while sipping at his mug of fresh brewed coffee. The more he read into the article the more he wished he could be there-- as one of the
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 2The girls spent an extra forty minutes in The Cheesecake Factory before they were recovered enough to get back to Marisa's car, both of them groaning in unison as they collapsed backwards into Marisa's Mini Cooper, their combined weight lowering the car dramatically.
They spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling around, trying to find some measure of comfort in the hopelessly cramped space, and failing miserably. Marisa was fine, the car had been altered to fit her, but Gwen was struggling, her thunderous thighs spreading wide under the pressure of her almost perfectly spherical stomach and proud, heavy bosom, too wide for the passenger's seat. She didn't seem able to accept this fact, though, trying everything she could to get the door closed, with all of her massive, fleshy rump contained within the car, repeatedly trying to pull it closed, until Marisa spoke up, “Hey... Gwen? Yeaaaaaaah, maybe you should just get in the back seat?”
Gwen tried a few more times, wincing i
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 4And so the girls went, in a slightly different order than they were announced.
Lexi went first, her routine little changed from her older one, Aerosmith blaring, her fat, fleshy body writhing, flab jiggling in time to the sounds of guitar, more gymnastically at the beginning of her set, less so as the songs played on. It was getting difficult by the end, and the reason was clear, it was because of those little pauses she'd take every few seconds, grabbing food from the conveyor belt, working it into her act as smoothly as she could, eating more and more, and letting her fullness be seen by everyone, her belly proudly bulging forward, her hands rubbing across it, massaging it, looking for relief, and finding a bit as she made herself belch, audible even over Steven Tyler's wailing. There was no pause in the act there, she reached immediately to the conveyor belt, looking to fill what space the air had just vacated, cramming a cookie into the space between her breasts, leaning her head c
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 7Marisa didn't sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned all night, trying to settle her mind, to make all the little pieces fit nicely next to each other, but it didn't seem to happen. She was angry, at John, at Miracle, at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She couldn't sleep, not restfully, at least.
Nine thirty rolled around, and she was where she was supposed to be, in her office, ready for Miracle to walk in, but she looked rough. Her hair and make-up were askew, her outfit wasn't co-ordinated the way it usually was. She looked less like a domineering matriarch, and more like a stressed secretary, four years deep into a fast food binge.
And this was what Miracle saw when she came in, sitting on the other side of the desk, her eyes wide in terror as a fat, serious-looking woman stared back at her.
Miracle reflexively shrank back, "I-I'm sorry..."
Marisa shook her head, "It's not important. So. What happened to you yesterday?"
"I-I panicked." M
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 5Two months after that fantastic opening night, all good feelings Marisa had ever had about where she was going with Porker's had officially evaporated.
She rolled over in bed, slapping her alarm clock as she did so. She didn't want to go to work, she just didn't. Work meant not knowing what to do, or how to talk about it, even. Gwen knew the situation, that conversation happened yesterday.
She rolled over in her covers, remembering back to how that had gone...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It was 10 AM, the restaurant didn't open for another hour and a half, and Gwen had come bursting into her office, wanting to know about... something.
She couldn't remember why Gwen had come in, and Gwen hadn't either, forgetting the instant she'd seen her friend looking a mess, all disheveled and half asleep on a desk scattered with papers.
Gwen had been worried, “'Rissa? Are you... okay? Did you sleep here?”
She'd woken up, but she was a long way from alert, mumbling as Gwen moved towards her, waddl
5. DreamsBeads of color chased each other through the air while the boy sat silently on the hill. When the first colored bead, a blue one, caught in his long wavy hair he jerked up, out of his thoughts. He looked around and caught one of the beads, a violent red one, and he cracked it open and ate the glimming lines that reared up from the inside.
They were delicious, and once the first was eaten, they all wanted to be eaten. They swarmed in, towards the boy on the hilltop, all wanting to be first, all wanting to be devoured by his sweet mouth. None of them noticed that they didnt leave the boy time to swallow, and as darkness closed in on him he was more and more surrounded by colorful beads.
The pillow was choking him.
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More