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Sometimes You Don't Have to Change the WorldAres is not what I imagined her to be. The great man of myth, muscular and imposing, shining in his armour, with crested helmet and mighty spear, does not stand before me. Instead I face a young woman, hardly more than a girl. She is soft and delicate, with eyes so large they will soak up the world, and skin like spun glass, that glitters in the darkness. A warm glow radiates from within her, not quite visible, but strong enough for me to feel the heat on my face.
The sound of traffic wafts up to us from the street far below. Heavy clouds block out the night sky, reflecting back the poisonous orange of streetlamps and office blocks. The rooftop is high above it all, and we are invisible. That’s why I chose it, to be alone. The last thing I expected was a visitor, proclaiming to be a god.
“Ares?” I scoff, looking her over with something I imagine to be petulance. If not for the fact that she was so decidedly un-human, and that she had materialised on the rooftop with n
Pokemon Rant on PaulWhy I Hate Paul
The Paul I am referring to is a character in the pokemon anime, who is currently Ash's primary rival while the group is in the Sinnoh region. Paul is really a varied character: on the Serebii.net forums, the Paul character discussion thread has, at the time of writing, nearly spans twenty pages, though most of it is saying how "awesome" he is. However, I do not think he is awesome. I hate him more than I hate Harley from the same show. I want to strangle Paul and break one of his limbs. Most probably won't know why I feel this way, so I will explain.
First, Pokemon are sentient beings in this setting. As Linkara pointed out in his review of "Captain Planet and the Planeteers #3," if animals were truly intelligent enough to make their own decisions and follow orders, animals would easily be given rights. Considering that many pokemon in this setting are shown to be smart enough to qualify, pokemon should have a bill of rights. In the real world, Paul's trea
Moonlit NocturneThere was blood on my hands when I played the piano for you that day.
It was the same street piano on the corner of the park that we used to play in, outracing the butterflies that gathered around the roses that grew there. We used to pretend we could fly like them, dancing from petal to petal, free from the world's cruelties. So happy. So naive.
A skid of a wheel had changed all that.
That day, your butterfly wings had been torn out of their sockets. They joined a long list that had been stuffed into jars over the centuries, to be ogled over by Death, the sadistic collector who never failed when it was our turn to submit. You were captured too early, too soon, but there was nothing I could do. I was on the piano, playing your nocturne, when you crossed the busy road. Blood sprayed, horns screamed and I turned to see you flung over a windscreen, unmoving.
There was a funeral, of course. There were tears, but none slid down my face that day.
I saved it for the piano.
You should have see
living equates to being alive.Imagine a world without anger, a world without hate.
She rolled over again, hot covers smothering her making it hard oh so incredibly hard to b r e a t h e . Moaned. Soft and low and desperate.
Feet sticking out, eyes screwed tightly shut. Knees almost level with Mona-Lisa chin, scrawny arms wrapped around too-thick legs.
Seconds passing by, tick-tock-tick-tock.
H o u r s .
No more raging storms tonight, little girl. [The moon hasn't fallen yet, after all.] The stars are shining brightly. Relax. Breathe.
That's it. Slow but steady does the trick. In and out. Let all your thoughts drift away like smoke from a fire. Give into sleep. In and out. Slow down.
Imagine a world which isn't governed by bigotry and greed. Imagine a world in which love is more important than lies, in which people think before they speak.
Silence. Golden, lovely silence, like a thread on which she can tip-toe with unscathed ballerina feet and no fear of fa
Hey, have you noticed? --One-sided-?-USxUKSummary: America wonders what England thinks of him. One-sided(?)US/UK
Edit: Re-uploaded according to some critique.
I know what they say about me.
I know what everyone is thinking when I stand up in a meeting. I know what everybody says when they think I can't hear.
I know they call me fat and stupid. I know nobody pays attention to what I say.
Oh, about those meetings. Do you know that I actually prepare for them? Have you noticed that I come with a speech written out and everything?
I guess you haven't. You never listen or take notes anyway, so it doesn't matter.
Hey, England. What would you say if I told you I get nervous when I stand up for my speech? Would you laugh? I bet you wouldn't believe me.
Truth is, when I stand up to speak, everything flies right out of my head. I suddenly can't remember what I spent hours on the night before. I have to make up something. What a waste of time, huh?
Hey, have you noticed my hands shaking when I get up? Probably n
The 13 Blessings of SheogorathFor Our Lord Sheogorath, without Whom all Thought would be linear and all Feeling would be fleeting.
Blessed are the Madmen, for they hold the keys to secret knowledge.
Blessed are the Phobic, always wary of that which would do them harm.
Blessed are the Obsessed, for their courses are clear.
Blessed are the Addicts, may they quench the thirst that never ebbs.
Blessed are the Murderous, for they have found beauty in the grotesque.
Blessed are the Firelovers, for their hearts are always warm.
Blessed are the Artists, for in their hands the impossible is made real.
Blessed are the Musicians, for in their ears they hear the music of the soul.
Blessed are the Sleepless, as they bask in wakeful dreaming.
Blessed are the Paranoid, ever-watchful for our enemies.
Blessed are the Visionaries, for their eyes see what might be.
Blessed are the Painlovers, for in their suffering, we grow stronger.
Blessed is the Madgod, who tricks us when we are foolish, punishes us when we are wrong, tortures us
Hetalia Headcanons--Sweden((PLEASE DON'T FLAME ME FOR MY HEADCANONS. IF YOU DO I WILL FEED YOU TO MOCHIMERICA :I))
1. There was a time when he and Denmark were best friends
2. His ears are like e-zones
3. He used to hack into computers a lot.
4. Surprisingly, he's the one that cries the easiest.
5. He's really shy, which is why he doesn't speak much.
6. He suffers from Catagelophobia.
7. He has a beautiful singing voice, he just hardly sings because he's self-conscious.
8. He's excellent at ballroom dancing.
9. He doesn't like talking directly to people, he prefers inderect forms of talking like IMing and texting.
10. When Greenland was little he used to tell her stories.
11. He's an excellent wood worker.
12. He only drinks when he's extremely stressed.
13. He wears glasses because Denmark hit him in the head and messed up his vision ((He hit him pretty hard.))
14. He's not a very heavy sleeper.
15. Only Denmark and Greenland can tell when he's really mad.
16. There was one point where he took abuse from Denma
Forevermore ‘I’m going to be happy’
- Gold Fields.
I stare at the tiny world within my hands. So small, so perfect, so complete. A sense of tranquillity and calm seems to resonate from within it. The ground is covered in a thick layer of pure white snow. So white that it practically glows. There is a miniscule house towards the back of the globe, dusted with a fresh coating of snow. A house that I imagine to be warm, cosy and welcoming. A house that is a home. Sometimes, when my troubles threaten to overwhelm me, I wish I could escape to that house. I wish that I could enter the perfect untainted world encapsulated flawlessly from within the snow globe. For it is a place that cannot be reached by everyday troubles. A haven free from despair and stress and that knows only beauty and seclusion. It is completely safe and isolated from
To Build A Human
I wonder if I died last night.
I once wondered if I had died the night before. And that's not even the strangest thought I had that fateful day. But perhaps I should start from the beginning
I had been thinking about the troubling philosophical issue regarding the hypothetical teleportation device that uses quantum entanglement to instantaneously transfer data, then uses that data to exactly replicate the individual in the new place and simultaneously destroy the original. The new copy is like a twin with all the same memories of the original, right up to the event of the teleportation, creating a perfect illusion of transportation to everyone, including the replicant, who would have first person memory of the lifetime of the original and therefore believe himself to be the original. The only party for whom this fax machine from hell fails is the original, who is stifled by nonexistence.
So how can one be certain of this tragic flaw without experiencing it fi