my feet, the anchors, and you, the hypocriteif oceans were made out of
tears from broken people,
would they hear our screams any better?
would we be any louder?
would people start believing in something called
mental health and the state of
sanity? (or lack thereof.)
though my bones are not cracked,
my sinew not pulled from me,
my heart still pumping life into me,
I am a broken dish,
clattered to the floor
in an angry fit because that is usually
all I am useful for.
a time ago, mental instability
was something that didn't exist--
people calmly ignored it and reclused
into darkened homes where they wailed from
the bubbles in their bath,
feet bleeding and hearts sinking.
but would you believe me if I told you
that mental instability
is still a taboo?
(it doesn't exist, they tell themselves.
it doesn't exist, it doesn't exist,
it doesn't--
but would this not drive
them maddened as well?
the word we are looking for here is:
hy-po-crit-i-cal.)
there is, of course,
the possibility that the only thing
weighing us down,
besides our bone my feet, the anchors, and you, the hypocrite by ~A-Lovely-Anxiety
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A moment of privacyWilliam always loved the way the sun reflected off of Liri's black feathers, catching dark blues and purples, shimmering like scales of a fish. There was something exotic about the way her feathers melted into her olive skin, trailing down her spine, and stopping right as her back arched into a soft curve. His eyes lingered on the small of her back, going over the curve of her backside, smiling to himself. In all honesty, he loved looking at her in general.
She turned her head with a smile on her lips as she caught him admiring her. "You're staring again." she said, reaching over and running a hand through his dark blonde hair, "What are you thinking about this time?"
William gave a content smile, closing his eyes as her finger tips brushed across his cheek, stroking through his hair like she was petting a cat. "Same thing I'm always thinking about when it comes to you." he said, opening one eye, grinning.
She smiled back, scooting closer, her skin breaking out in goosebumps as h A moment of privacy by =jackofalltrades0097
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May 23rd (a Gorillaz Fanfiction)2-D woke up to a surprisingly not bad day, the sun wasn’t exactly shinning, but it wasn’t bucketing it down with rain either.
2-D walked quite merrily down the hallway of the Gorillaz new home, after being evicted from their previous one, they had travelled from house to house, eventually finding a small, cramped one that costed hardly anything, though it was no bargain
This would be 2-D’s first birthday where the band was settled down and were pretty much on good terms with each other, 2-D had been looking forward to it.
He went into the kitchen and hunted around for some breakfast, not long after, a peeved looking murdo May 23rd (a Gorillaz Fanfiction) by ~mabelpines13
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The Medium - Bit 16***HIT THE COMMENTS FIRST FOR EXPLANATION***
As soon as he thought to look for them, the signs were obvious, and they were everywhere. The phone, the television… Everything down to the décor and the style of Kim’s hair. The world had gone smoother, smaller, more austere. The angles had been replaced by curves. The colors were muted. The frills were gone, and the exaggerated flowers.
It was a new decade, fast approaching a new millennium. Suddenly, when he tried to picture Mara, he couldn’t. She would be ten years older, ten years smarter. She would like things he had never heard of. She would be ten years used to thinking of him as dead, if she even thought of him at all, any more. Physically, she would be older than him, now. She might be married. She might have moved out of Abilene, like she sometimes said she wanted to. She might have died young of cancer, like her grandfather and both of her aunts had. She might be gone.
The shock hit him, piled on top of The Medium - Bit 16 by =QuiEstInLiteris
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La nuit, une ado pleure*La nuit, une ville, une maison, une chambre, un lit.
Dans le lit une ado, les bras croisées derrière la tête, allongée sur le dos, regarde le sombre plafond.
Elle soupire, cligne des yeux et souris.
Au bout d'un moment, la fille se tourne sur le côté, mettant ses deux mains sous ses joues, ferme les yeux.
Elle pense, elle pense à quoi ? A la vie ? Un peu. A l'amour ? Beaucoup.
Elle rougie, finis par rouvrir les yeux, soupir.
Quelle heure est-il ? Elle n'en sait rien, elle s'en fiche... ça n'a pas d'importance.
Plus rien n'as d'importance...
Une larme coule, suivis d'une autre, et puis d'une autre et encore une autre, se transformant en casca La nuit, une ado pleure by ~Julia-Huber
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Every Day Moments: IllnessGrimmjow stood over the stove, cooking some chicken noodle soup, the meal smelling amazing so far.
"G'imm? Ya almos' done?"
"Almost, Shi!" He returned, smiling. Shiro had taken ill after working on his car in the cold, that only making whatever virus the other had stored away in his body worse.
He shook his head, got the medicine ready as well as some apple juice and dished out the soup into a small bowl. "Shiro, get ready to sit up. I got food coming!"
"'kay!" By the time Grimmjow got in there, Shiro was already sitting up and settled comfortably against those fluffy pillows, wrapped in so many blankets because he was cold.
"Hey, how yo Every Day Moments: Illness by ~Arisu-Ami-Chan
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Phoenix(English version below)
Instantané de fuite.
Un courant d'air passe par-là.
Regards furtifs et coeur qui bat,
La peur d'oublier pourquoi.
Evadés du système,
Pauvre peuple du bas.
Cours, cours, ne te retourne pas,
Le dégoût des hauteurs te prend comme un vertige...
Résiste encore, encore un peu,
Le passage est étroit mais ta main est ferme.
Accroche-toi à l'espoir du beau,
Au rire des futurs,
A l'idéal insoumis.
Tout est mortel.
Mais ne t'y fie pas.
Les cycles recommencent et sont différents.
Trouve la brèche et le courage.
Allume un feu d'esprit qui servira de phare
Aux égarés de l'océan putride.
Flambe ta vie.
Tu es Phoenix.
Et moi aussi.
Snapshot of flight.
A current of air through there.
Furtive glances and heart beat,
The fear of forgetting why.
Escapees of system,
Poor people at the bottom.
Run, run, do not look back,
Disgust heights takes you like vertigo ...
Still resis Phoenix by ~SuzelH
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Art is a Waste of Time"Why do you draw so much?" He asked her, watching her with her knees pulled up to her chest, her hair almost covering her face as she stared intently down at the book in front of her. She looked up, blinking a few times, staring at him like he had just asked something so absurd she couldn't think of an answer right away.
"What type of question is that?" She finally asked, pulling her hair back, knotting it on top of her head in a bun and sticking her pencil through it. "To get better, duh."
He shook his head, "No, why do you draw at all? What do you want to do with it?"
She stared at him again, shifting some, "Do I need a reason?"
He had Art is a Waste of Time by =jackofalltrades0097
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I forgot (a dude, that's my ghost fic)"Hey, Billy, why don’t you like chunky peanut butter?"
"That’s a deep story bro-caprio"
“You don’t know, do you” it was more a statement then a question
“What-pfft, course I know, it’s me who doesn’t like chunky peanut butter”
Flashback
Billy Joe cobra is practicing in his dressing room for his concert, he’s trying some new dance moves while playing his keytar, he stops briefly to eat a spoon full of chunky peanut butter, and then continues, suddenly the chunks get caught in his throat and he can’t breathe, he tries to spit out the peanut butter, he tries to call for help I forgot (a dude, that's my ghost fic) by ~mabelpines13
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The Medium - Bit 15Twelve: Waking Up
I slammed back down into something that was sort of like self-awareness. It was unfamiliar, and it was uncomfortable. I had gotten used to watching without being, seeing without feeling, slipping away quietly when even watching became too much to take. This isn’t happening to me, it’s happening to him, and he’s not even real. I wasn’t ready to be real again.
I tried to escape again, but the shaman wouldn’t let me. Every time I tried to slide away, back to wherever I had been before, he tore away another layer of lies, unearthed another memory, and tied me down to it. He was violent, almost cruel when compared to Sebastian’s subtlety, but he knew what he was doing, and I couldn’t stop him.
Like pulling off a Band-Aid, he said into my mind.
It was nothing like pulling off a Band-Aid, though. It was like cutting out a tumor with a belt sander and chopsticks, and he was doing it on purpose. I The Medium - Bit 15 by =QuiEstInLiteris
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Sta.sh
