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IntroductionSome stories are like fairy tales; a hero and his damsel in distress defeat the evil villain and slay his dragon. Some stories are just the opposite. The once-glorious hero turns on everyone whom he knows and loves, destroying everything in his quest for power. This story is neither here nor there. This story does not lie in-between, or even in the same plane. For you see, this is not just any story, it is many. There is never really just the single story; haven't you ever wondered the fate of the old wizard who taught the young hero, or where he came from? What of his princess, surely she had a life outside of being kidnapped. You see, this is not just any story, nor is it just my story. This is the story of my friends, my family, my enemies. This is our story, and soon enough, it will be your story. This is our story of love, hate, and everything in-between. This is our story of relationships and betrayals, of life and death. This is our story, and soon enough, it will be your story.
DreamAll the world around us, is it really what is seems?
Utopia day after day, the old recurring themes
Rose-tinted glasses over our eyes, since the day we're born
Then one day they're taken, seeing the truth we're torn
Devestated, we start anew, learning everything again
Despite the darkness inside of us, we still try not to sin
Life is Hell for the longest time, every break a gleam
Trying to wake from the nightmare, or at least go back to the dream
Those that manage to return, never happy are they
Nostalgia blinded them, for their foolishness they pay
Those that stay, in a permanent fog is their head
For most this state will stay with them until the day they're dead
Happiness comes in the package we've come to know as love
Though many choices are gone, thanks to the voices above
Life is Hell for the longest time, every break a gleam
Trying to wake from the nightmare, or at least go back to the dream
Santa ClausSanta Claus, Father Christmas, as to some he's called
Each year it's around the world, that he does get hauled
Now I hope you know that he's not real, at least in traditional sense
But if you think that he doesn't exist then you are really quiet dense
He exists as the spirit, the joy of the holiday season
To stop believing in Santa Claus is akin to committing treason
A world without Santa, it would be so very bleak
A hopeless world, that I hope no one should soon seek
WinterWinter gives way to the beauty of snow
There is no place a white blanket can't grow
Such beauty is better unrestrained and free
Covering the shortest bush and the tallest tree
A sheet of snow is an inspiration of all art
It's so very close to many a heart
Brighter than the summer, but oppositely warm
Here in Seattle, a good break from the norm
FearHumans fear the great unknown
Whether inky black depths or hallowed bone
We stay to the light and stray from the dark
Fearing on our innocence, it shall leave a mark
It is natural, so why do we fight it?
It is only an error, in a world so brightly lit
And yet to err is human, to forgive, divine
Or that's how it's supposed to be, in this world of mine
Random quotes from mePersonally, I just find the whole idea of a giant man in the sky creating everything ridiculous.
If you can't imagine a possibility, you can never hope to comprehend the truth.
I'm like a die. Just push me a bit and you'll get an entirely new face.
If people keep relying on the same morals as their ancestors, how can we honestly expect to go anywhere?
The meaning of life? Simple, it's forty-two.
A witty comment? How about this?
I'm not an obstacle in the path. I'm the desire to peer into the woods.
The game? I stopped doing that long ago. Why? It's stupid.
I don't quote others. They just happened to say the same thing I was going to long before I did.
Magaran Story introThis is a story. Well I guess not yet, as I haven't set down a plot or characters or anything like that quite yet, but trust me, before the time that you finish reading this, the first chapter, it will be. Well I guess this isn't quite a chapter yet, but again, it will be by the time it's done. So anyway, the thing I am typing which shall become a story when I finish typing takes place in the make-believe land of Metanide (no, not Meta Knight) and is the home of out hero. Of course, he's not a hero yet, but he shall become a hero over the course of the story, so I'll just refer to him as a hero, okay?
Anyway, the person who shall become the hero of this story but isn't yet but shall still be referred to as such is named Tamres Weveeth (which is definitely not an anagram for my own name, don't even try it), or is otherwise know as Tam. Now Tam is not just anybody, but he is certainly not everybody, and is nowhere near a nobody. He is actually the prince of the province of Cameria, which
A couple quick coupletsOnce we reach eighteen, we can choose our leader
But until twenty-one, we can't down a liter
To sum up beat-boxing and that thing known as rap
I only have one word to say: crap
Yes I do like other guys, why ask do you?
Of those who admit, I am one of few.
English AssignmentOctober 4, 2010 My aunt, Karen Erak, died last week. She was a scientist, and in her will, she left me her final, untested project: a time machine. I doubted it would work, yet curiosity gets the best of us. As such, here I stand, a satchel of supplies, expecting it to send me back to one-thousand years ago, to the Medieval Ages. I have decided to keep a journal of sorts, so that if I should not be able to come back, it may survive to the time when I would exist, and share my story. I guess all there is to do now is to test it. Without further ado, I take my first steps into the realms of lore.
October 5, 1010(?) To both my expectations, and surprise, the time machine did work, and is here with me. I tested it, going back to the moment I left, and then back to the field in which I initially appeared. The land is as I expected it to be, rather barren, and there was a slight mist around me, which has since disappeared. Whether it was because of the time machine, or simply a
The Old TruckIt is a bleak February day, gray and damp with a mist that sits heavy around the world, when we make the long drive to his childhood home, where the old Chevy sits under a grave blanket of snow, left to him by a man who has been gone for a long, hard decade already. With a tender touch and skilled hands, he works under the hood; then in the bed, removing last fall's leaves, which have kept her warm under all the ice and snow.
One mighty shake and rumble later, the engine jumps to life. The frame creaks and groans, like some beast awakening from a deep slumber.
With a combination of strength and gentleness that is so uniquely his, he pats the cab and whispers, "That's my girl."
I find myself suddenly sentimental.
This is the truck that saw one lifelong romance through to the very end, and that played such an instrumental role in the blossoming of our own relationship. The memories flood through me with each turn of the motor.
Red bench seats, windows down, a crisp breeze blowing off the
Perfect World (Not Always As It Appears)In my perfect world there are very few people. I barely tolerate most people and I do not get along well with others. People annoy me.
In my perfect world it is quiet and filled with any book I could ever want, a fast computer, Netflix and a drive in theater. The drive in theater is almost always nearly empty and there is never a line at the snack bar. The books are there whenever you want, any title ever written either from the past or the future is ready at your beckon call. A computer right at your fingertips just ready to be used for anything, looking up music, playing a game or anything else. And any TV or screen has Netflix so I can watch Doctor Who anywhere any time.
In my perfect world people won't try to bother me or talk to me unless I ask them too.
In my perfect world a few people would be there my only and best friend, my girlfriend, and my grandfather. Those 3 would see me often then I have internet friends who can come by when I want, and my other family members if I want
i'm semi-automatic [PERSONAL]
I'm never what I like. I'm double-sided, and I just can't hide.
I kinda like it when I make you cry,
'Cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside my mind.
It was, perhaps, a beautiful sight. For most.
The rain, coming down slowly as if to taunt the man, gave the asphalt a glossy appearance. The streetlights flickered in and out, their shine reflecting off of the wet ground.
He hated it.
Oh, how he hated it, the way the rain came down so slowly. The way it pelted him, leaving him wet, vulnerable. The way the road shined after the rain fell, the way the streetlights glowed so brilliantly despite their shortening lifespan.
He hated the beauty.
Clutching his side, the man clung to a streetlight with his other hand. His fingers curled around his ribcage, digging into his skin; his cold, wet skin.
Groaning, he let himself slide to the ground, propping himself up against the metal pole. The least it could do was go away, the rain. Why did it have to ling
G: Father DaughterFather Daughter
Ivy watched as her father sat locked in his room office space, her mother Hannah was out shopping for groceries as the house need food and Hannah offered she will go though she was tired she had to go shopping. She only agreed to going if Claude watched over their baby girl Ivy. It took a lot of pressuring but by the end of it all he agreed.
He hadn’t spent time with his daughter in some time and should be willing to give up some free time to watch over. Sadly it wasn’t the case as soon as Hannah left her father locked himself in his office and went back to work.
It was always the case with him he would lock himself in his office and work all day Ivy sat outside his office holding her stuffed spider as she waited for him to be done with work. He had promised once he was done he would take her out to the park but for now Ivy had to sit be quiet and while she waited.
Claude was in his office deep in thought about his paper work and thinking nothing more than t
Interesting Conversations 31Interesting Conversations with…
Katie: All day at work I felt like the genie in Aladdin. POOF "Whaddya need?" POOF "Whaddya need?" POOF "Whaddya need?"
Abby: 3 year old at work (Safeway) asked me if I was a zookeeper. We just got our aprons today.
Josh: Allow me to add a small additional dimension to your life: next time you read a doge meme, do so in the voice of a sincerely impressed Christopher Walken.
Gabrielle: You have turned something I loathe into something I love.
Tristan: My 8 year old student on Music History: "So there were 2 brothers named Bach and Beethoven who wrote the first songs. Well, actually, before that there was a loooot of hippie music." ...clearly we have some work to do!
Sarah: By hippie music he clearly meant Josquin, right?
Jade: One time my student asked me if Haydn was the president of the United States, and then when I told her no, she asked if he was alive at the same time as dinosaurs
Jovian: (Reviewing a list of the great events of
Avril LavigneWhat's your favorite song by Avril? I have too many. XD
I like Rock N Roll
Best Dam* Thing
My Happy Ending
Let Me Go...
Way too many. XD
Not One Day Goes ByIs it really that hard to be happy with me for just one day? Not one day goes by without you making several snarky remarks, remarks on how I’m just such a disappointment . That you’re less than pleased with what I choose to enjoy, that all of my interests and hobbies are worthless. Just as worthless as I am.
Not one day goes by without me trying to keep the peace, trying to stop us from arguing again. Because arguing with you is pointless, you’ve already made up your mind. Your opinion of me seems as if it’ll never change. No matter what I do, I’ll never impress you. Every positive thing I accomplish is just cancelled out by every mistake I make along the way.
Not one day goes by without me seeing that look on your face. A look of disgust and regret. That one expression tells me more than words could ever say, it tells me that I really am hopeless. No matter what I do, you’ll still only focus on my flaws.
Not one day goes by without my resolve weaken
My Little Mobius: Chapter 3Chapter 3
Tails had wasted no time with the strange creature he and his friends met. As soon as the creature stopped it's movement in the forest, Tails brought it to, what was left of, his workshop, slowly escorting the beast to it. He was amazed that his workshop withstood the devastation of Chaos Mishap, but was still curious to see where the beast had originated from. Once inside the workshop, Tails led the creature to an assortment of gadgets, and strange machines. The creature kept spewing 'Rhydon' over and over again, as Tails began to search for a specific device. His search ended when he found a needle, attached to the needle was a small display screen. Tails had invented a DNA Identifier for the case that, if he ever had to, find a way to identify Sonic, should any clone or the like be made by Eggman. The creature raised a brow in confusion, as Tails slowly inserted the needle into the creature's arm. It didn't move, nor did it cry out in pai
Gotta see you tonightToday's the day, and I just can't wait to see her face again. I've been waiting for this day for a long time, I miss her so much.
But before i continue my random,not very senseless jabber,guess your wondering what the heck I'm talking about, right? Of course you are. What I'm talking about is my vacation time, for you see, I'm a soldier who has a girl back home wonderng where the hell I am and whether I'm ok or not. Well, her wait is gong to end tonight, and man I am just happy as hell to see her cute face again, and hold her tightly in my arms.
So to begkn this little cute story off, my names Andrew Winston, and im a sargeant of the United States Army. I'm currently sitting in a large jet that's about ten minutes away from landing in my hometown in Virginia. Its currently early summer, which I'm ever so grateful for since its alittle cooler than the deserts of Afghanistan. And the best thing that's ever happened to me is waiting for me on our house, and doesn't have the slightest clue
MilkOne of my earliest memories is of when I first poured for myself a glass of milk. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but until that point, one of my parents had always done it for me. However, they had stepped out for a moment, and I was in the mood for a drink. I lifted the jug up onto the counter and fetched a glass, and at that point inspiration struck.
What would happen if I kept pouring? I had trusted my all-knowing parents without question my entire life, at least up until that fateful day, when I had an idea that was truly my own. I was going to infinity.
I raised the jug and poured, and within moments I was testing my grand idea. Half-full, I could barely contain my excitement. Nearing the rim, I had nearly chickened out; this was where my parents always stopped, should I do like them? No, I would see my idea through to the bitter end. The liquid flowed over the top of its small container, only this and nothing more. I cleaned the spill, and, with me as its only witness, t
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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