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PrussiaxReader Latest Entry5:30 on a Saturday and you were lazily lying on a hammock on your front porch. You hear you phone buzz, you look to see who texted you.
Gilly: 'Hey (f/n) wanna help me set up an awesome party hosted by me and mein awesome friends?'
(f/n): 'Am I invited?'
Gilly: 'only if you help set up'
(f/n): 'fine be there in 30 min'
Gilly: 'alright...bring beer!'
You sighed. You had been best friends with Gilbert Beilshmidt ever since you literally ran into him in 6th grade. You both got along pretty well since you were pretty laid back and weren't stubborn unlike a certain albino you knew. *cough Gilbert cough* Except recently you had felt different around him. You cared what you looked like and hated his bimbo girlfriends. You refused to say you liked him. This wasn't some cliche fluff movie where he'd like you back. It would mean no friendship and lonely heartbreak.
Quickly you sat up from your lovely hammock as you trotted up to your room. You brushed some strands
Xadezz,thomarie y fredjazz polvos de la verdad 2Xadezz,thomarie y fredjazz los polvos de la verdad parte 2
Xavier: quieres ir al baile conmigo?
Dezz: claro que si!!!
Xavier: fred te despiartas o te tiro una cubeta de agua fria de polo norte. Tu lo has querido
Dezz: puff me dio tiempo a hechar los polvos en la limonada, pero en que vaso los eche!!!
Dezz: vamonos al bosque de Danville
Thomas: que prefieren ir por el portal de Marie o por mi portal?
Todos menos marie y xavier: por el portal de Thomas.
Xavier: yo prefiero ir en loang board hasta alli , dezz quieres ir conmigo?
Dezz: ok, chicos nos llevan las cogas plis?
Fred: ok , xavier dame tu mochila
ColourThe whisper of his lips against your ear.
The release of his kiss.
When he holds you in his arms after a night of passion.
The small smile that brightens your face.
The cold bed as he's gone again.
The way he changes like the sky, the rain through the sun.
The stains on old letters and photographs.
The ache that tides you through change.
The cool relief of walking away.
It Was Only a Kiss It Was Only a Kiss
It was only a kiss.
So why did his hands tremble and heart flutter violently in his chest?
It was only a kiss, with nothing meant by its lingering, bittersweet taste.
Those wide, wide solemn eyes that stared at him were not meant for him. Or the downy curls that surprised one with their softness. Nor the bright, blinding smile that would disappear and reappear like flashes of lightening.
She was not meant for him.
She was not…was she?
Could he…could he have her?
Could he love her?
finceline trinagulo------amoroso parte 14HANNA… HANNA… ese nombre golpeaba la cabeza de jota casi con la misma intensidad con la que HANNA lo estaba golpeando a el… los golpes sonaban por toda la cueva de marshall, jota podía bloquear sus golpes pero el sabía que si lo hacía quedaría completamente inutilizado de los brazos, asi que solo podía recibirlos con su abdomen aun herido por su anterior batalla
-esto te enseñara niño!!! Que no debes tentar a los enemigos a los que no puedes vencer – jota recibía todos los golpes con la esperanza de que fionna y Marshall estuvieran en un lugar seguro, pero esa
charming serpents .c.If you thought I'd be okay with your musty bedroom eyes sweeping like the wind across my skin and leaving me breathless, waiting, missing you, you thought wrong. My hands are twisted in my lap and the braid you wove into my hair lies on my back like a bad mistake and darling, I can still taste you, sea salt and vanilla, on my breath. You've left me gasping, grasping at myself to keep the world from fading, but I refuse to need you the way you need me to.
The leaky faucet in the hallowing corners of my mind clip clops like steel-toed horse shoes along the washboard in the gravel driveway. My knuckles are cracked and splintered, peeling away a
[KnB] AU: Spotkanie z przypadku IISłońce prażyło niemiłosiernie, a na niebie nie było żadnej chmurki. Dodatkowo wiał przyjemny, chłodny wietrzyk - pogoda w sam raz, żeby pograć w kosza na świeżym powietrzu. Problem polegał na tym, że wciąż znajdowałem się w szkole, zamiast na boisku. Mojej matematyczce najwyraźniej nie przeszkadzał fakt, że wszystkie lekcje skończyły się co najmniej pół godziny temu - wadziły jej za to moje ostatnie dwóje w dzienniku. Nie to, żebym był złym uczniem, ale... Zdrowe lenistwo i ostatnie treningi skutecznie odciągały mnie od lekcji. Zwłaszcza od nauki jakiś wzorów, w których więcej jest greki, niż cyfr.
Kiedy wreszcie skończyła swoją tyradę, ja obiecałem się poprawić oraz bardziej uważać na lekcjach, po czym w mgnieniu oka odmaszerowałem
You Colour Me Beautifulas sunlight dances on your face, i know for sure my love for you isn't skin-deep.
how else do i explain my sudden desire to hear your silken voice dive down to
lost atlantis. following your words i can drown in oceans of blue. swim through
shades of indigo and wash up on sandy shores.
laying here, side-by-side, i want to crawl beneath your sunkissed skin and find
the riddles carved into the ivory of your bones. follow the lines of whispering
poetry until i fade to be like the oxygen in your being.
i want to ride the soft crackling thunder of your laughter like the wind, wrap its
essence around my shoulders to keep me warm in t
[KnB] AU: Spotkanie z przypadku IUwagi: "Delikatna" (zależy jak dla kogo) MidoTaka; może dojść do niezamierzonego, lekkiego OOC; Alternative Universe; +12
To był pierwszy słoneczny dzień od dawna. Pamiętam, że z wielką radością zamieniłem dość ciężkie i grube buty oraz parasolkę na wygodne trampki i opaskę do włosów. No co się tak krzywicie? Muszę widzieć co robię, a to (akurat w moim wypadku czerwone) cholerstwo jest w tym bardzo przydatne! Zwłaszcza w piekielnie upalne dni, kiedy do twarzy kleją ci się od potu niesforne pasemka. Dobra, w każdym razie... Byłem niemal pewny, że nic nie zakłóci mi tego pięknego dnia, ale troszkę się chyba przeliczyłem. Dlaczego? Dlatego, że oto Bóg zesłał na mą - do tej pory całkiem prostą i nieskomplikowaną - drogę person
An Artist's MuseHis fingertips traced out her every curve, mapped out every line, every dip and valley. He kissed her the way a painter would add fine detail to his art, so specific, so careful and loving in the way his lips met hers.
He treated every mark upon her skin, every freckle, mole, birthmark and scar like they were stars in a nebula, connecting them all briefly with the fleeting touches of his hands.
Love marks scattered her like she was a canvas, bright red to a softer pink, all sorts of gradients spread about her.
And she was his canvas, manipulated beneath his very fingertips, shifting at even just his breath dancing over her skin. Every piec
Eight Days of LoveThe first time he saw her his eyes were instantly drawn to her hands.
Not her battered and bruised appearance, nor her bloodstained jeans.
She wore a single silver ring, with the words love inscripted in the
delicate band. He couldn't help but feel it embodied exactly who she was.
Hugging herself she sat on the sidewalk. Invisible to the rushed medics,
she shivered while silent tears streamed down her pale face. One of the
few survivors while crash victim blood stained the dark streets.
Without a word he cradled her into his arms and took her home. She hid
herself in his clothes, and he held her close. Finally, in the kitchen
where he tried
Tangled in the Yarn of HeartsThe way of the heart is not an easy path. Many times we struggle to find our soulmate. Struggle with the yarn of hearts. But once we unlock its secrets, once we figure out this mess, we find our ribbon. Deep inside, we know we are connected. And, with the help of Destiny, we find our partner.
Sometimes the path is long and winding. It grows dark and muddled, and if our hands weren't tracing the string, we would surly lose the way. But it is there, always just ahead of us.
Some hold Fortune's kiss and find the other end early. Others struggle and end up searching a lifetime for someone seemingly beyond reach. But everyone is meant to be held
Her LuckNot connected to BB&BPP.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Kagome blinked at Aoba. She was sitting in the Tsukishima’s café and she had ordered tea, only to be coolly handled by her aforementioned classmate. Normally, Aoba was friendly, but today she was absolutely frigid.
She was like Kikyo, only less lethal.
Suddenly, Aoba’s little sister appeared and sat next to Kagome at the counter.
“Hey, Momiji. Do you think I offended Aoba?”
Momiji smirked. “Have you bee
Butterflies, Blushing, Baseball Playing PervertsHey guys!
This is a crossover thing.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Cross Game or Inuyasha or their characters.
Prompt: Butterflies and Blushing.
Kagome didn’t like the butterflies in her stomach that fluttered to life whenever Ko passed by. She shouldn’t have hated it so much, it wasn’t like he was even slightly similar to Inuyasha, but she couldn’t stand being attracted to him.
It made her uncomfortable and basically grouped her with his fan girls.
Kagome’s nose scrunched up as she thought about it.
Sighing, she stopped walking as she past by the training grounds
His WarmthA foolish young girl deceived by what looked of Spring,
Stopped to see flowers in bloom and birds that sing.
But a harsh wind blew through the clever disguise,
And Winter stormed in right before her eyes.
Unprotected, she was caught in the snow,
Buried alive from head to toe.
She fought, but her blood turned to ice,
A frozen heart was Winter's only price.
Time passed, seconds or years,
Unknown to her, behind eyes sealed with tears.
And when all was lost, a boy came along,
He knew the girl, his feelings deep and strong.
He studied her icy form,and it made him feel so sad,
So he wrapped his arms around her with all the strength he
RapunzelRapunzel, Rapunzel, black and white,
Hour by hour, day by night.
She stays locked in her tower by free will,
Take her mirror away, oh, if looks could kill.
A mirror that reflects the dark inside,
A mirror that sucks away the sun's rising light.
Self inflicted from a world bound to judge,
By the weight of mistakes, not the amount of love.
She takes dusty letters down off the shelf,
Wanting to hate them half as much as herself.
But the ink is iron, the letters lead,
No matter what she wishes, the words will not fall dead.
To say the truth, they weigh heavy on her heart,
And the sun falls while she waits for the dark.
Life? Thoughts? I guess I have thought quite a bit about life. I've just never come to any clear, specific decisions. I think. I mean, pretty much every day I wonder if there's a God. There's gotta be. How else would we be here? Like, "Are we some big alien experiment?" I don't think so, but who really knows? God would, I guess. And seriously, if we are searching for intelligent life forms, then why do we have satellites pointing back at Earth?
There are lots of questions. Do you believe in ghosts? (I do. Casper's pretty cool.) Are psychics real? (Some are, I think.) What about Big Foot and the Lock Ness Monster? (I don't know about Nes
Quirks I was a weird kid back in the "Olden Days of Yore". And I guess I still am. I don't think people ever really grow out of their quirks. One thing I "remember" best is a story my gramma tells all the time about this one rainy day that I stayed at her house.
"Don't you dare set one foot into that mud puddle." My gramma pointed at a monstrous miniature pond in the driveway and gave me a stern look. She knew about my infamous love for puddles, and even though it had stopped raining, I was eager to run outside and play.
"Alright," I sighed. "I won't." I mind
Fixing Faces And even though I was standing in this dry, stuffy hallway filled to the brim with people, I could only see his face: a rugged profile shadowed by the bill of his baseball cap. Deep, tan skin framed by a mess of cherubic brown curls. An aquiline nose, and a strong jaw covered with stubble. His eye, the only one I could see, was the color of the blue-grey ocean during a thunderstorm. It had the same dangerous, uncertain feeling welling up behind it, too. He looked attractive by any standards. Maybe even beautiful by mine. But any beauty that I saw in him turned to a shocking horror when he looked my way.
* * *
The little voice in t
StayHe is a kiss,
On the cheek.
An old, worn T-shirt,
Wrapping me up, soft and warm,
His scent woven into the threads.
He is a silent sigh,
Breath trickling across my skin.
A pair of ripped blue jeans,
And cut off sleeves.
He is a late night talk,
A.M. words sleepy and slow.
He is the sunlight,
Melting my battle scars away.
A sappy love song,
Singing together off-key.
He is sarcasm and silly jokes,
Making me blush and belly laugh.
He is a hug, a touch, a smile,
Slowly chipping away at the confusion,
And making everything good again.
He is my heart,
And my promise to stay.
Discription But I cannot describe love only in the touch of your hands, or the kiss of your lips. I can
only describe it in the way the air is thick between us as we are near each other, as if
gravity itself longs for us to touch. The way an itching ache fills me when you are far away,
urging and begging me to curl you up and hold you in my chest. Though along side it is a
variable peace, knowing that though you are far, you are still close to me. I clasp unto
myself the rhythm and rasp of your steady breathing, the mixed scent of your skin after a
long day and soap and colonge. I hold in me the nuances of your voice; soft and sharp,
Keep in Touch!
`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More