There once was a Miss Mary Lye,
Who always was baking us pie.
But often we’d find
It was one of a kind--It’d poison the rats, would her pie!
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'Old Man' Rissikov His hands are wide and blunt, the fingers worn around the tips. Calluses thicken his palms, and wrinkles scratch craggy canyons through his skin. Blue veins ridge the backs of his hands, shifting over powerful tendons, and his fingernails are yellowed, rough and split at the ends. They are old, working hands.
He shapes the wood confidently, hands moving with an easy grace born of decades of practice. Thick fingers grasp his tools with surprising finesse, planing the wood down to a perfect surface and leaving long, curled shavings to fall to the floor in fresh-scented mounds. Slowly, the form of a long, gently curved table leg is coaxed into being.
Kitwaveit is a land of highland moors and lowland marshes, where the only trees that grow are low, twisted things, more like shrubs than anything else. It seems a long-passed memory to the man before me, a fog-bank dispersed by the constant wind and revealing sun of a life which has lit
Fractured Fairy TaleBeauty and the Beast
Summary: An adaptation of the translated piece of Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont’s writing of the tale, first published in 1756 and translated in 1757. (The pirates are new.) If you wish to read the original version, it can be found here: http://pitt.edu/~dash/beauty.html.
If you missed it, part one can be found here.
And so the next morning they returned to the castle together, where the Beast let them into the entrance hall before withdrawing and leaving them their privacy. When her father failed in one last attempt to reason with Beauty, they parted with an embrace. At first, Beauty could do little but cry with her grief. But later that evening Beauty set out to explore the cast
Fractured Fairy TaleBeauty and the Beast
Summary: An adaptation of the translated piece of Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont’s writing of the tale, first published in 1756 and translated in 1757. (The pirates are new.) If you wish to read the original version, it can be found here: http://pitt.edu/~dash/beauty.html .
There was once a wealthy pirate king, a loyal man who ran his fleet with the help of his three sons and three daughters. He had once had a wife, but she fell in love with another while he was away at sea. Finding himself unwilling to bind her to a man she no longer loved, he let her leave… though it pained him dearly. He continued to love his children fiercely, however, and as it so happens this is a tale of the pirate and his daughters.
His daughters were all very beautiful, but the youngest was the prettiest of a
Slave to DeathI'm tired of hiding,
But too weak to fight;
The problem with darkness
Is you can't see the light.
I'd love and I'd live
If I only knew how.
But bad habits have grown
And it's too late by now.
So cry out, scream,
And flee from the shadows--
Nothing can save you
From the blood-scented gallows.
There Were Four There Were Four
It was a slow day, and for good reason. Chilly November rain drummed down on the streets of the city, sluicing through gutters and filling the air with the gentle scent of soaked concrete. The only people out in such weather had good reasons for braving the cold; they walked with heads ducked and collars turned, single-mindedly hurrying towards their destinations. Few of them stopped to consider a scruffy beggar huddled beneath the mediocre shelter of a bus stop, even when waiting under the same alcove for transportation.
But I didn’t mind. I was under the shelter because it kept off the worst of the rain, not because I expected coins. It had just seemed rather silly not to put down the tin, you know? Besides, there’s something to be said for spending a day watching people go by, their stories trailing behind them like the ragged ends of a tired old cloak. So while I
"Gerou? I'd like to speak with--oh." Elance pulls up as he comes into the study alcove to find Gerou pulling himself stiffly into a more alert position, pushing the slightly crumpled book catalogue, which he'd apparently been using as a pillow, away from himself. The wide window on the west side of the room lights the stone of the walls and floor with a gentle afternoon light, the clear sky a welcome gift of the all-too-brief summer. The sun-heated leather bound books in the shelves along the walls fill the room, as they do the whole library, with the welcoming scent of leather and aging paper. "Should I come back later?" he backtracks, as the other man shrugs his worn grey shawl back into place around his shoulders.
"No, it's fine. I obviously wasn't getting much done," Gerou says lightly, brushing his lank, once-wavy hair back behind his ears.
"...You're getting e
Characters of Abime SpireA brief summary of all the characters of Abime Spire I've mentioned so far. Links are to either the character bio or refsheet, if it exists, or a picture of the character (again, if it exists). This will be updated with new characters as I draw them, and may contain info not present or found in a less concise manner in their bios. It also will mention any particular formal affiliations between characters. So check back every once in a while!
Fully introduced characters:
Brian the King: The most easy-going, laid-back immortal former monarch you're likely to encounter, Brian keeps his friends close and family closer. Two-time widower and father of four:
Corglacia: Oldest child of the King, Corglacia is a bit of a withdrawn loner. Nevertheless, she share's her father's deep devotion towar
Distinct Voices 3Part three of this exercise by Luna--Rose.
There is no profanity this time round! Because I don't really curse anywhere but in my own mind.
For ease of use, here's a list of the characters linking to at least a picture, and in most cases some basic info about them.
Distinct Voices 2Part two of this exercise by Luna--Rose.
WARNING: Contains occasional mild profanity.
The names below are links to the most information-rich deviation containing the character. Not necessarily the prettiest ones, though...
9. Your character is about to leave the house in the morning when they realize that they are snowed in.
(Snowed in: when ther
Tobacco ArmageddonA freshly-made omelette implodes with a "thud,"
result of an attempted "good morning!" flood.
Your smile broke my limit, the doughnuts just flew;
a tempestuous barrage from me unto you.
The coffee is splattered all over the walls,
some melting eclairs are smeared in the halls.
The sausage was good until you said my name.
A lunatic mantra exploding my brain.
My fingers are shaking and I cannot see,
there's a force inside me that wants to be free.
Please run before I do what I might regret,
I just haven't had my morning cigarette.
Attack On Titans Cap. 6 (Parte No. 1)Narración Normal
Andrea cayó de rodillas ante la debilidad que la dominaba en aquel momento, Eren se sentó junto a ella mientras miraba a la gran bola de gente en donde se habían ido los padres de Andrea, Eren los reconoció, pues eran de las familias más conocidas dentro de María, Eren sabia que habían dejado a Andrea sola a los seis años a su suerte en María, por suerte todo la ayudaron, por lo mismo de que sus padres eran de gran poder en María, sus ojos, los cuales estaban llenos de lagrimas tenían un color violeta, Eren iba a preguntar pero llegaron Armin con la mayoría de los chicos que vieron el “espectáculo” de tiempo antes, iba Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Christa, Akane, Juzet, Misaki, Sea, entre uno que otro chico o chica desconocido, uno de los chicos desconocidos se acerco a ellos, era de cabellos castaños amarrados y con un lado rapado y uno que otro mechón d
The Naval Treaty: Percy Phelps“Tadpole” Phelps
Gave tiny yelps,
As playmates attacked him with a wicket.
It just wasn’t cricket.
hate jobhate job
take up golf
just a hack
stuck in bed
reach for remote
fall on head
tied to chair
sit and stare
Attack On Titans Cap. 6 (Parte No. 2)Narración Normal
Sea iba caminando mientras hablaba con un chico de cabellos negros cortos y de ojos verdes muy llamativos, su nombre era Silver, Sea sintió como algo en ella se volvía a sentir mejor desde la muerte de su hermana, como si la felicidad volviera a ella de la mejor forma, todos empezaron a convivir unos con otros, al llegar al primer entrenamiento el que estaba a cargo de ellos soltó un grito de enojo-¡MUY BIEN ESCORIAS FORMENCE POR NOMBRES!-les grito, cada uno tomo su lugar y hizo el saludo, llevando su puño hacia su corazón honrando a todos lo que murieron antes de ellos, el oficial a cargo paso enfrente de cada uno inspeccionando cada rostro, se detuvo en un chico de cabello café claro y ojos verdes intensos-¡DIME TU NOMBRE COMPLETO Y QUE QUIERES HACER AQUÍ!-le grito en la cara al chico-Antonio Nosutarujia, vengo para honrar a mi familia-dijo en voz alta y firme, el oficial lo miro y siguió con
If I could fly...
If I could fly I'd crash into a tree
And that is why God didn't give me wings
I fly all the time,just in my dreams
Even so,I still crash into things
Jhonny's World, Capitulo 3.Capitulo 3:
“EL REGRESO DE ELENA”
CUADRO DE TEXTO: 11:45 PM Haven Hills.
JHONNY (En c.d.t): Personalmente, no tengo ningún problema en que mis amigos lleven chicas a la casa. (Vemos a Bruce entrando al depa, enfrascado en un faje con una morra) pero carajo, ¿Por qué a mi casa si no viven con migo?, en fin, a la mañana siguiente…
(Vemos a Maru y a Jhonny desayunando en el comedor)
JHONNY: ¿Puedes creer que ese pingüino ingrato me quitó mi cuarto anoche?
MARU: ¿otra vez? Ayer me quitó el mío.
(Bruce sale del cuarto de Jhonny con su “amiga”)
CHICA DESCONOCIDA: anoche me la pase muy bien.
BRUCE: yo también linda.
(La chica se va, Bruce cierra tras ella y recarga la espalda contra la puerta)
BRUCE: no me la estoy pasando bien.
JHONNY: Pero, ¿Por qué compadre? ¿Qué no es tu 12
Gods Thunder~GODS THUNDER~
Thunder storm, thunder storm, let your sound be heard. Thunder storm oh thunder storm it's time to share Gods word. If I love you you'll be spared to live on and breed, but if you sinned I'll zap you now, of you I have no need. Let that flash and roaring noise be your lasting proof, that if you don't believe in me I'm gonna zap you're roof. Thunder storm, thunder storm dance and sing away, thunder storm oh thunder storm kill all sinners today.
An Ode To ZombiesYour eyes are pale as your granite tomb,
Your flesh, it gleams by light of moon
My blood drips from your jaws like rivers of roses,
Sweet fragrance as your body decomposes
Let me join you in your meditation,
Your soothing moans and contemplation,
Of simple thoughts and simple needs,
Like blood to drink and brains to eat
Oh what I'd give to reach enlightenment
On the level of the dead,
To conquer death itself
And come to life again
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More