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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.
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
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.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
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