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Heroshipping...Pokemon fan fiction short
“Who the hell is this kid?” Ray asked as a general question, starring down at the red headed boy in front of him who glared back with emerald green eyes.
“Why don’t you try asking me what my name is?” He demanded.
“Oi! They make them so feisty now a days.” John commented to one in particular, “Especially the short ones.”
“I thought we were supposed to be meeting someone who belongs to a shipping that the author just found out about.” Cody said, “It can’t be this kid, can it?”
“Colosseumshipping is the only right one!” Sam interjected, crossing her arms stubbornly.
“Of course you would say that.” John muttered.
“Heroshipping.” The new kid answered, still glaring up at Ray, “Believe me, I hate it too.”
“Say what?!” Everyone else demanded, mouths gaping at the news.
Stained Happiness: Dedicated to the Day of SilencePokemon Fan Fiction short
‘Can we walk like we have somewhere to go?' John thought impatiently. It always pissed him off how slowly people would walk in the halls. He wanted to get to his next class as quickly as possible; out of six classes he only had one without his sister and that was last period. ‘Finally!’ John spotted a break in the line of snails walking in front of him and shot through it, not caring the slightest when he accidentally bumped into the one who had moved to close the gap.
Less than a minute later John was walking through the door to his next class. His gaze instantly went to the part of the room where he and his sister sat side-by-side. She was already at her desk, but her head was down, he shoulders shaking a little; she was crying.
“Kenzie!” John cried, running over to her, tossing his books listlessly onto his desk as he whipped past it, not caring when he heard most of his things hit the fl
I was boredPokemon Fan Fiction short
A Long Time Ago...
Just… a little… farther…
At the last second Tristan lost his balance and fell a good seven feet to the ground, landing on his back; just barely missing the ripe Pecha berry he was reaching for to give to his sister-in-law’s waiting Jolteon, Hiro.
“Ow! Man, and I was so close too!” Tristan said aloud, blowing back his dark brownish red hair in slight frustration, as he starred up at the lightly swaying tree branches.
“Are you okay?” A soft and very familiar voice inquired, steeping over to Tristan.
Tristan glanced over to his uncle Nick, his fair face scrunched up in consternation.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbled halfheartedly with a wry smile.
“Are you sure?” Nick asked his grassy colored eyes scanning Tristan critically, “That was a pretty hard fall.”
When he finished speaking a stray lock of long, pale green hair fell in front of his face
When the Snow Falls: Chapter 2“Gah! The one bad thing I can say about snow is that it makes it almost impossible to pick up a good scent.” Chitsa complained as she searched in vain to find any clue to the pups and her brother in the frozen air.
Light gasped, “Chitsa, Look!”
Chitsa’s golden brown head snapped up, her indigo eyes frantically searching the direction that the palomino mare had indicated. There, at the edge of the newly frozen lake, were the tiny, indistinct forms of Chesmu and the pups. Chitsa bounded down the snowy slope that separated her and Light from the lake shore. As she approached she saw that River, Forest and Chesmu had already ventured out, onto the frozen surface. Shade still stood on solid ground, but she obviously intended to follow them.
“What are you doing?” Chitsa demanded hotly, although she already knew, they were seeing who dared to go out the farthest on the thin ice, too thin, even for such young ones.
“Um…” Shade began,
Valentine's Day? More Like D-Day!Pokemon Fan Fiction short
Valentine's Day? More Like D-Day!
“No, no, no. That won’t do at all!” Dawn exclaimed at Ray’s response to what he was going to wear.
“Why? What’s wrong with my usual outfit?” Ray asked, somewhat affronted by her response; he saw no reason as to why he would need to wear anything else.
“Because it’s your first real date.” Dawn explained.
“What are you talking about?” Eve inquired, “Have you forgotten about Nimbasa City already?”
“No, but that wasn’t planned out ahead of time either, so it still doesn’t count.” Dawn insisted.
“You’ve got a point there.” Eve admitted.
“Speaking of which, what are you planning on doing with her tomorrow?” Dawn asked Ray.
“Yah, this will be the first and last Valentine’s Day that you two will have all to yourselves so you’ve got to make it really
Hope and FaithHope and faith,
Are one in the same,
Each compliments and aids the other,
When can hope’s painted rays shine,
Without faith to be their guide,
Faith without hope,
Is a brush without paint,
It can run across the soul,
All day, and all night,
And never will it leave a mark,
If hope is not its paint,
Hope without faith,
Is a problem much the same,
You can hope, and hope,
But if you do not believe,
Then hope is an empty thing,
Like an empty water canteen,
The very essence of hope,
Is the faith of better days,
Faith is the hope,
That all this is true,
Not just a story,
Spoken to a child at night,
Hope and faith,
Are one in the same.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
Beyond LoveYou say 'beautiful' like a mistake -
like it slipped out unwarranted
from those dark parts of your mind
that you don't want me to go to,
you say it like that.
You caress like it's worship -
like if you pressed too hard
or took too much, you'd pay the price
and I love those urgent times when
you're willing to pay it.
You teach me love like I'll die without it -
like if you don't defrost me
and my frozen image of myself,
then I might stop breathing
and extinguish beneath my own icy damnation.
You kiss me like you have to -
like we're sharing an oxygen tank
in a toxic, broken-down universe
and you are trying not to breathe
to save me.
You kiss me like that.
You love me, like that -
how am I supposed to resist
a man who loves me beyond his own sense
and senses - beyond love ?
In SanityI find myself in a world of white,
This place it feels so pure.
The Sun's rays are warm and bright
I've never felt so sure.
I explore the land and all its sights,
I enjoy the world's grand tour.
I wander around until the night
Shows what it has in store.
In the darkness, a speck of light
Reveals a hidden door.
I turn the handle and peer inside,
A sight I can't endure.
I turn to run, to escape my plight,
I dare not to explore.
But something inside catches my eye,
I can't resist the lure.
I awake to find myself tied tight,
A voice tries to assure,
"This one may finally fix you right,
Maybe this is the cure."
kafka has been dead foreveri.
I am going to cut the veins out of my neck:
pull the stars from the legiments
drown the cities in bruises
I am going to burn in hell:
tear down the pyramids, the faces, the continents
the weight of the universe
(if I live to be 20
I will know the landscape of my mind
as well as the bottom of the ocean
& people I've never met)
Stereotypical SuicideSuicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a family,
Nobody who lives for their care,
Nobody who wants them around,
Nobody who helps them through life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has friends,
Not a person there for a simple hug,
Not a person existing for a reassuring look,
Not a person around to leave the words,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a home,
No place to live and feel happy in so,
No place to live without leaving again,
No place to live to avoid the truth,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a love,
Nothing there to hold them in warm arms,
Nothing there for a kiss to remember,
Nothing there to be a greatness in life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a someone,
"Don't do it - for your family
They mean nothing to me anymore,
"Don't do it - for your friends"
Friends? What friends? They don't exist,
"Don't do it - what about home
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
sunset soon forgottenin a single moment all her greatness collapsed,
her soulfulness small and full of absence.
i am wild
with infinite shades of yes -
and a careless smile
so kiss me quick
under the sun
(just until the pain leaves)
DunesOut on the dunes, you could be walking on the moon
Maybe you are, maybe we are; see that planet in the sky?
How much more can be said about body heat, about
Sucking the marrow from bones in a vain attempt to quench?
Disheveled by dust-storms in an ocean of sand, we walk
Blank-window eyes searching for what, some sort of life?
Our feet are heavy, the ground wants to eat them; no moon, this
Now the sky is the color of sand, and there are no stars to wish on
Sweat and dead weight, we wait for the coolness of night
Fatigued, delusional, we see a rusty car approach; we get in
PompeiiI will lay my body at the base of your columns
Waiting for the flaking of your warpaint;
This could make all the difference.
The whore-babble language of your oracle
Heard from the great taproot
Tastes like sodden wool in another's mouth
This is what I have to say in the dark
With your hand smothering my hip and side
Like a cloud meant for Pompeii,
And the fires are never drenched.
I have collected your warpaint
Swept and scooped from the base
In flakes no bigger than glitter
To adhere to myself
Like sticky snails to leaves.
The eternal tremors will knock them free.
Flames Never DieFlames never die, for embers always live,
The spirit of a fighter, only so much can give,
Through adversity, sorrow, fear and pain,
The flame of a hero, dims in that relentless rain,
But even in the great monsoon, the flames do not die,
For one faint ember lives on,
Rescued in love before it was gone,
Nurtured with kindling of friendship and care,
Sheltered with love from fear's evil lair,
The light is small, quivering cold,
But day by day the flame blooms,
And cheerful laughter emerges from the glooms,
Still it's not quite there, not what it once was,
For once it was the flame of a spirited leader,
A fighter who could not be defeated,
In time the flames will recover,
History will say there is no other,
No leader so great, no fighter so brave,
No will so steadfast, so determined to save,
May his flames never die, and his embers always live.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More