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Not every love story has a happy endingHe didn't want to. He really didn't. But when given the choice between the death of his entire clan, or the death of a single human The choice was clear.
They had spent most of the day together; Gil had showed the other the beauty of things most humans didn't notice about the sea; he had even gone so far as to have offered him a tour under the sea of the most beautiful unknown places he knew of.
But the day was now coming to an end; the day's time he was given to kill his best and only friend.
They were lying on a stone by the water, relaxing as the sun set. Gil asked to excuse himself for a moment, and when he was out of sight of the other, he laced his lips with a plant's juices that was fatal to humans, before coming right back.
"Can I tell you a secret?" The siren leaned down so their noses were barely touching.
He blushed, "S-sure! You can tell me anything, Gil!" The other chirped sweetly, innocently, which forced a stabbing pain of guilt into the sea-dwe
A Beautiful NightIt was a beautiful night, and a young woman who went by the name of Miran decided she would take advantage of that. Strolling through the park, she got lost in thought, soon not paying attention to where she was going. Of course, this caused her to trip, falling towards the ground. She closed her eyes, waiting for impact, though it never came. Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with a man, about her age, who she could have sworn she knew.
"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked, seeming as off as Miran.
The brunette nodded, gaining her balance once again, "Y-yes, thanks to you "
"Good," the man smiled at her, "I wouldn't want you hurt, a pretty girl like you. My name is Yao, may I ask for yours?"
"I'm Miran," she smiled back shyly, a blush covering her face, "Thank you for catching me, Yao."
"Beautiful name, fitting for a beautiful lady," He charmed, "And don't think anything of it, I couldn't just let you fall on your face."
Again, Miran blushed, trying her best no
Wooden Dolls PrologueSomewhere deep in the depths of a place many never wish to see, a black-winged figure is hard at work on her newest creation. This will make her the most loved of any of her king's minions, a gift unlike any other. Carefully crafting each to the exact detail, she ties each hair by hand. They have to be perfect. Setting them aside to let the paint dry, the demon takes small pieces of bright red string from a container, each labeled in its own bag. She carefully imbeds the thread into each of her creations, before carefully crafting each a box to rest in. Finally she was finished, admiring her work.
Eight small wooden dolls lay on her crafting table, each looking exactly as the person they were meant to be. She carefully lays each into their boxes, and spreads her wings, carrying them off to visit the boss.
"What are they?" He questioned, staring at the small figures incased in their glass-lidded prisons.
"The perfect way to reap any mortal's soul before their time." She smirked, "If the
Ryou's Problem (Your Problem parody)Sorry I treated you like an angel,
What else did you want me to do?
Sorry I treated you like you're perfect,
And smiled when I spoke to you
Sorry I couldn't be sexy,
Am I just not enough for you?
Is that what you do when I'm missing?
That must be such an inconvenience to you, well,
I'm just your problem,
I'm just your problem,
It's like I was, not even with you,
I'm just your problem
Well, I shouldn't have to check in on you,
I shouldn't have to be there to keep you,
I'm sorry that I exist,
I don't know what landed me on your blacklist,
But I shouldn't have to be the one that makes up with you, so,
Why do I want to? Why do I want to
We'll always be watching you...Judging eyes watch her, as she walks down the path. She takes a deep breath, shaking slightly. She's the new girl, the fresh meat, the prey. Little does she know how true that really is.
She is lead into the building, shocked by the lack of lights. She knew this was a night school, but she was unaware there were no lights allowed on. She is welcomed by a teacher, and notes that she is being watched more like a new toy than a new student.
"Where is my room?"
"We'll get to that, follow me."
She is lead by the teacher a man in his mid twenties into a large, completely black room.
"Where are we?"
"You'll see soon enough."
She nods, and allows herself to be practically pushed into a chair. She hears movement, and jumps in shock when her wrists are grabbed, and strapped with rough leather to the chair.
The lights come on, and she screams.
"Hush child, it'll be over soon "
Grey, bloodshot eyes open to the darkness. Jumping to her feet, she stands before her new master.
Becoming the killer I once wasHe was the star,
Who kept me in the light,
He was the one,
Who made me not need to fight.
Now that he's gone,
I don't need to be kind,
Now that he's left,
I can leave this behind.
But I'll never forget,
The reason I now fight,
Is because my little angel,
Has now faded from life.
He was the star,
Who kept me in the light,
And now that he's gone,
I will enter the fight.
He Hid AwayLet me tell you,
Of a young teen,
Who's life to him,
Has no mean
He'd never say,
He hid away
He was shot down,
With bloody cries,
He hit the ground
Now pushed away,
By the evil things,
That people say
Let me tell you,
Of a young teen,
Who's life to him,
Had no mean
He'll never say,
He hid away,
He hid away
It can ruin a friendship,
And break a heart.
It can cause tears to fall,
And turn ever the brightest soul bitter.
It can make you do terrible things,
And cause you to hurt those you love.
What is this I'm speaking of?
This feeling that causes so much pain?
It's the bittersweet feeling,
Violet Eyes - ProloguePrologue; letter never to be sent
Dear Violet Eyes,
I was thinking of you again. I don't think there's a day that's gone by without you popping into my mind. It seems like forever since I bumped in to you, but really it's only been a few days haha, who knew time could move so slowly when you're in Never mind.
Anyways, I miss you a lot. Sometimes I wish you'd just talk to me, but I know that'll never happen, and I'm much too shy to go say hi so I guess these letters have to do.
I'll write to you again soon!
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
I should have turned awayI should have just turned away.
But you wouldn't let me.
Everything about you was calling to me; from your eyes, which were a lustful brown, to your shinning silver-blue hair.
Why wouldn't you let me turn away?
Because now look at the mess it's got us both in.
Why couldn't you let me leave before we began?
Now look at you; you're hurt because of me.
And I cry every dawn and dusk, just because I hurt you.
So when I look back on our first encounter, I can't help but smack myself.
I should have just turned away.
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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