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Falling for Grace Falling for Grace
My boots crunched as I stepped in the snow, making a trail from the woodpile back to the house. I wouldn't really call it a house, more of a cottage really. I love where I live, a small cottage back in the woods a little. Brown wooden siding and a brown roof, it sticks out in the snow covered woods.
My arms have started to ache, for this is the sixth armload. The snow does not crunch so much now, since all my trips back and forth have made a well-tread path. I stepped inside the door and a wonderful wave of warmth and sweet spices engulfed me. The warm fire in the wood stove still burns well, but better to go get the wood now then when it gets dark and colder outside. I placed the wood in a spot near the stove where wood is always piled. I brushed myself off, took off my boots and jacket and sat down on the sofa near the stove.
“Now where in the world is the remote?” I shouted out loud, but I know there will be n
Contest Help - Extract A rough knock on the door made Isabella jump as it echoed in the quiet building. There werent many visitors to the Genealogy department of the archives daily, but they always came with an appointment set. Isabella thought back to her planner and realized that she didnt have any appointments that day.
Ben, can you get that? She asked as she continued with the papers she was currently sorting. She heard him move from his desk over to door, and she heard the sound of the door opening. The words were a bit muffled, and Isabella couldnt understand what was being said, but when she looked up Ben was right in front of her looking anxious.
There are some men out front asking for you. He said as he tilted his head in the direction of the front door, and then headed back to his
Contest Help - Plot SummaryIsabella Russo loves her work as an archivist. She researches peoples family history, and loves to make it a little mystery for herself. But of all the mysteries of her work, she never thought that her history line would be the one that she was trying to solve. When strange men attack and try to capture Isabella, she runs off with her new co-worker Ben to try to figure out who is chasing her, and why.
The small country of Mesina is a corrupt one, and its only getting worse. An elite force of men and women are on the hunt for a long lost royal. One that could take the throne and turn things good for the monarchy and the country. Will they be able to stop her before she figures out the whole thing and ruins everything?
Her, You + Me
She sits on an old swing laughing and playing.
She is old enough to know better but still too young to be bothered by anything.
She has your bright blue eyes.
She has your dirty blond hair.
She really does look just like you.
She loves looking like her daddy.
You can relate to her playful manner.
You are still too young to care.
You can't stop loving her hair.
You can't believe that she looks just like you.
You love it that she looks just like you.
I can't help but play with you both.
I stopped caring about maturity long ago.
I can see you shining through her eyes.
I can't believe her hair looks like yours but smells like mine.
I love it so much that she looks like you.
I love seeing you shine out from her same smile.
Another Story IdeaFootsteps on the sidewalk could barely be heard as a young woman ran down a busy New York City street at morning rush hour. Her brown hair was up in a bun, but there were many fly-aways going in every direction. Her arms were full of many different things, her purse, a shopping bag full of items unseen through the shiny clouded plastic, a smooth black binder full of the day to come important papers, and a tray of 4 coffees.
It was morning rush hour and with all the people out on the street, it was amazing that this woman was still on her feet. She shuffled through and around all the people, careful not to spill a drop of coffee.
Dressed in business attire, she looked like every single other monkey out on the streets that morning. Her dress jacket flapping from side to side around her knees as she ran down the street.
She slowed down when she noticed that things were starting to slip from her grip. Nobody noticed and kept going on their merry way. A couple people actually bumped into he
The sun shines brightly high in the sky, it's warmth tickling everything it touches with it's rays.
The wind blows rustling the wheat stalks playfully. The noise it creates is barely heard over a little girl's giggling. Her laughter sounds like pure, liquid happiness without fear or sorrow.
A little girl, barely the age of 3, runs happily through the wheat. Her curly hair matches the color of the wheat, and shines in the sun as it bounces about her shoulders.
Her light purple sun-dress sticks out as the only bright color as it brushes about her legs as she runs. Her small sandaled feet run as fast as they can take her, sometimes almost making her lose her balance, but she manages to stay on her feet.
At long last her feet get caught up and she falls forward. But her cheerfulness is still intacted and she doesn't even pause in her laughter
She stood at the edge, the waves crashing on the cliff far below her.
The warm salt air blew about her face, playing with her hair.
Her bare feet touched the stones, warmed by the heat from that days sun.
Her long silk dress rustled gently around her ankles.
Her arms were open taking in the setting suns warmth as she gazed down below her.
For once in her life she felt completely free.
Free of all the troubles and heartache in her life.
And there had been many troubles for her to deal with.
This freedom wiped away all her sorrow but one.
She was left with the deep feeling of loneliness.
It was that same loneliness that drove her to that very edge.
Taking a deep breath she leaned forward, letting the salty air gush past her as she fell freely.
Story IdeaHis long jacket moves about his legs as he walks down the dark alley. He fears nothing but many fear him. He is a king of his kind, and he had to fight many battles to get to the top.
He dresses all in black, and even his hair and eyes are no exception. He walks strong and proud in the dark of night that he calls his own.
She is an outsider, a rogue and is never one to follow the pack. She dresses divinely, but every two weeks she is not as beautiful as she is told frequently.
Always alone she finally realizes that she is missing something in her life.
Could their two world become one or will they both perish in a fight for their lives?
Creepypasta x Depressed!Reader - ZombieI frown looking at the small red droplets covering the bottom of the bathtub. Hearing three louds knocks on the bathroom door makes me look up from my wrist. I didn’t even hear him coming down the hall. Who am I kidding, I never hear him when it most matters.
But I hear the now, going back to the living room. I hesitate for a moment, cleaning up the tub and pulling my sleeves over the soon-to-be scars. I exit out of the bathroom, cigarette smoke instantly filling my lungs, making me want to tear my skin off and cough so bad that it makes throat ache. But I can’t. He is already standing there, eyes narrowed, making his face look much older than it actually should. I walk up slowly, aggravating him more.
He probably wouldn’t have been this angry if Vanilla was here.
She had left a few weeks ago, all while killing our mother. She was just abusive as our father, maybe worse. The police were called before she could get to our d
Eren Yeager x Reader One-Shot: His Hero
Being forced into training after being attacked by the Colossal Titan has caused all Hell to be released into Wall Maria and threatens all inhabitants of Wall Rose. It's only been two years since you, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were pushed in the Trainee Corps. Just being there the first day was harsh enough to drive people to their limits, sending them back into the fields to work hard labor. The sincere intimidation from Keith Shadis had shown the wretched truth as to why some people had signed up in the Trainee Corps in the first place. It made you sick to see that people joined only to live in the luxury of the Military Police Brigade where none of them had to face the horrific creatures known as Titans. You, on the other hand, were planning to join the Survey Corps where you would be serving a purpose; whether it meant you would lose your life the next day.
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME, MAGGOT?!" Keith continued on with intimidating the Trainees as he w
UnableEmily leapt out of the car as soon as it was stopped and her fidgety hands could undo the seat belt, she excitedly ran straight over the lush green verge and into the pebble-dashed sand. Falling to her knees she clamped her hands around fistfuls of the warm little stones and threw them, delighted, into the air. The beach! Emily loved the beach, she had loved it her whole life. It was her second favourite place to be (after her pillow fort with Jennie, her polar bear teddy).
Emily’s Dad scooped her up off of the sand and held her upside down, making her shriek with laughter. He scolded her for running off but she knew that he was as happy as she was to be back at the seaside, so she laughed until he put her down again for wriggling too much.
Right way up again Emily scampered up and down the golden sweep of beach front looking for the absolute perfect place to watch the tumbledown waves of water. Emily knew her
Illustration by :
When I was younger I had many imaginary friends. Short ones, tall ones, some looked like cats or dogs, but none of them could compared to Mr. Thing. Mr. Thing, when I was younger, was a cute little teddy bear my mother had given me when I was three. Despite my imaginary friends he was all to real, cuddling me at night and keeping me company during the day. I carried him everywhere, and had refused to go anywhere without him up till the age of seven. Though even after I had stopped taking him everywhere I had still carried him around the house as if he were able to save me from dangers.
I had explained to him that I didn't want to take him to school anymore because he'd get dirty, and of course he had understood. Patiently waiting for me to return home to play with him. When I would come home he was the first thing I went to; where he would then sit, and help me with
WonderlandThe woman called Alice walks alone through the hollow streets, a seed planted in her sterile heart and a rifle sleeping in her belt. Last night, she'd witnessed the popping of Pérignon, and a dazzling display of fireworks, complete with alcohol-polished emotions and hundreds of thousands of citizens pulsing rowdy fanfare. She'd netted her highest number of kills that fateful day. Blood still rests in the creases of her palms.
A streetlamp greets her brightly with its mild glow, and alerts her to a dirty and disheveled homeless man groveling for money on the other side of the street. The young couple next to him give a feeble attempt to back away, claiming they have none to spare.
"Lies," Alice whispers. She can easily see the pearls jingling from the lady's neck, and a well-crisped suit guarding the young man from the night chill. Money is more than expendable to them. And this city could do without this attractive mask of a couple. They, too, are expendable. Alice begins t
BoysContains: Gas fetishism. Female.
Liliana awoke to rain pattering against her apartment's window. She felt mild discontent.
She could see the overcast through the glass sliding door that lead to her balcony, moody gray light bleeding in at an angle. Liliana groaned.
Oh, the woman wished she could've gotten a few more moments of sleep, dozing off to the soft dripping of gloomy precipitation, but a hand trailing along her side alerted her-- no, reminded her of last night's events.
Calloused fingertips ran against her silky, tan skin, the palm cupping the fat of her hips before moving towards her inner thigh. She lay in the nude under the sheets, not a single garment or accessory on her besides the piercings in her navel.
A masculine grunt came from behind her as the rough hand attempted to make its way between her thighs, only for Liliana to growl and snatch his wrist. "You've overstayed your welcome," She muttered, narrowing her eyes. It was way too early for her to deal wi
Spring Has Held Life in Her HandsSunlight is pouring past her lips as she cradles newborn fawns. Vines twist and spiral into a calligraphy of green memories; she bats her eyes causing petals to glide on softened breezes. As she hangs leaflets on branches and tucks in tree roots with blankets of moss she smiles. Mountains cry, with snow trickling down their peeks. She places circlets of white flowers at their feet; her hands brush the sliding snow away.
She builds a castle of iris and lilies over the world with purples, pinks, and reds dotting the horizon. The people look up and shudder as a sudden peace engulfs them. Spring digs moats of morning dew beneath drawbridges of grass. Placing a tiara of clovers against the sides of dead trees, grass spurting forth from their wounds she sings. Birds flit between the branches of her hair, chirping a song of return into her ear.
The clouds stretch awake at the sound of Spring, chuckling hello with a wave of white. Forests clamor for her touch and she obliges, unfu
Suicide and RebirthI stumbled upon a beautiful girl who was listening to loud music. I asked her,
"What kind of music do you listen to?"
She took out one earbud from her ear and replied,
"I listen to many things, sir."
"Like what?" I ask with curiosity.
"I listen to the breeze of the wind and the sound of the rain slamming on the roof during the stormiest of nights. I listen to the laughter of children when they play on the playground. I listen to the humming of the birds and the buzzing of the bees." She says.
"What beautiful things to listen to." I smile. "Do you listen to anything else?"
She smiles. "I'm glad you've taken an interest to my taste of music." She continues. "I listen to the pecking of woodpeckers and the howling of the wolf."
"The heart has its own song as well, sir. Do you hear it?" She asks in a tender voice.
"I do not." I say. "What does your heart sing of?"
"My heart sings of the rattling chains coiled around it, constricting it tighter and tighter as life drags on. It
Water Runs in My Veins I break the surface and feel the waves embrace my into their icy, yet soothing arms. Once I am completely immersed, every inch of my skin tingles. My bones seem to melt to match the temperature of the water, and my movements become fluid. I deftly plunge deeper, feeling both the cold and the warmth rush past me with every stroke. The pulse of the ocean beats against my skin; it is alive. I open my eyes to take in the scene. I can't see clearly, the images are blurred. Still, I can make out soft hues of color. I reach out and feel the hard, smooth surface of a rock, resting amongst others. I feel a rigid plant, and my hand even grazes the backs of a couple of slimy fish. With each connection made by my senses, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I am truly unlimited when I'm under the sea; my fears have been washed away by the white waves.
Growing excited, I continue to venture deeper into the dark depths. Soon, I feel wisps of seaweed brush up against me, tickling
Lost Love Soft, gentle, spring rain beats down on the already soaken green grass. Tombstones in perfect rows look like they're in a watercolor painting because of the blurry edges the rain creates.
A woman walks amongst the graves, her barefeet tickled by the grass. She walks slowly and determinedly, a wilting white lily clasped gently in one of her hands.
Her long flowing lilac cotton dress is just as soaked as the grass and sways heavily about her ankles as she walks. She stops every few feet looking- not because she is looking for someone, that she knows is lost.
She finally comes to a final stop, falling to her knees in front of one certain stone.
The tears that run down her cheeks are undistinguishable from the rain.
Gently she places the lily at the foot of the stone, her hands drawn up to her face to pointlessly
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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