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Crack fic for Maru- Iggy Mochi and FrancisDisturbing laughs that could only come from one certain Frenchman resounded against the dirty walls of the back alley. Iggy-Mochi slowly made his way out from under the dumpster he was handing behind and suddenly stopped in his... erm tracks (or is it hops?). Staring up at the one person he was trying to stay away from; France. Tears started pouring from Iggy-Mochi's eyes as he tried to inch away.
Suddenly the ally burst apart at the seams disappearing into the bright tie-dye that now swallowed everything whole. Francis' laughs became the main ambiance, echoing over and over. Then he swooped down and claimed his prize, as the British Mochi squealed, struggling against France's iron grip. A white flash blinds the readers! Slowly, their vision returns to Iggy in the flesh wearing a neon pink dress with matching heels and make-up. Francis with his rape face still plastered on, had his hands on Iggy's waist, also wearing a neon green pleated dress with hooker boots, a feather boa, and make
Gone - RussiaxReaderYou shivered at the absence of the warmth that was usually beside you, eyes threatening to let the tears fall once again from your reddened face. You clutched the sheets where he used to sleep, face buried in his pillow. It smelled faintly of vodka and what could only be described as him.
"I miss you." You mumbled, "Please... please come home soon, Ivan"
Just a Scenario (Kingdom Hearts)"Oh? So Xemnas didn't tell you then?" You looked around the circular room, gracefully turning to look at every single member of the Organization 13 while a small, almost sadistic smile on your face. A quiet, deep giggle escaped your lips, "So your, oh so great and powerful leader didn't tell you how he had such an extensive knowledge of things? Or how he even had the power he did?" Your giggles turned into a full blown laughing fit, and the members looked at you as though you were crazy.
"Please, excuse my rudeness. Hehe, It's just that I would have thought he would have at least told you something. Heh, well, in any case, I guess the time has come for you to finally meet me. I am (Name), Number 0, and the true leader of this organization. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." You ended with a slightly dramatic bow.
-very-Slight!IzayaxReaderStanding there in front of the infamous informant broker's desk, you gazed at the person before you, the deep depths of your eyes barely betraying the immense amount of intelligence you held. A slight smile played across your lips as listened to this informant. Letting out a short laugh, you drew a breath to speak.
"Y'know Izaya," You looked down to the Go board on which this said man played his twisted game and reached out to one of the seemingly random pieces, the named stopped his words and watched you as you moved the marker, "checkmate." With that you smirked at him and turned on your heel, walking out of the room while his gaze followed you. Izaya frowned a bit as his dark eyes flicked back to his game, more specifically, to the piece you had shifted.
BittersweetI don't want it to be up to me.
So much emotion and meaning, conveyed in just nine short words.
So little, and yet, so much.
But, do you truly understand?
I do not understand myself, my emotions, or why I have this daily façade.
-such is this, a fake life-
So how can you?
-a mask of falseness-
I do not think you do.
Because, have you ever let your mind wander,
Wondering what it would be like to kill or to be killed?
To feel a knife carve through flesh and bone of another being?
-Ripping the tissue and vessels of their muscle-
To see the crimson lifeblood of another drying on your own skin?
-the drops splattered all across you-
Or perhaps, what it is like to feel flames lick your body leaving a twisted and charred path in their wake.
Or to experience what it is like to have your lungs fill with water, suffocating every cell that holds you together?
What about our society?
Or Humans in general.
Have you ever let your thoughts drift, realizing how we are paras
It's always like this.
Can't you see?
I just want someone to be there.
You say that they are proud of me.
But how do I know that is true?
How am I sure it's not a ploy?
I'm tired of the uncertainty,
I'm sick of the masks.
I want to belong.
I want to be me.
But I don't know me.
This bitter-sweet logic.
I can't even put my feelings to words,
let alone this poem.
Sometimes I wonder.
Who am I truly?
You say I know the answer.
But truth is, I don't.
Depressing Poetry --Can't you see through the front I put on every day?
Don't you realize it's just a façade?
The me that is true is broken,
I'm not insane, but I'm not exactly sane either.
Caught in between,
A me I'm not sure of,
A me that I don't even know.
Who am I?
What do I represent?
Questions like that fuel my thoughts each day.
I need help, I can feel it.
The me that you know,
It's not real.
A fictional character from the back of my mind: -----.
The dried salty tears that ran down my cheeks sting,
the sensation dull.
I push through the sadness,
the hate of me,
fictional pixels lifting my spirits like no-one I know can.
Heh, It's stupid isn't it?
Fanfiction Dump 1Here are the reader insert ideas that I haven't finished yet, there will be just ideas then those that I actually have something written.
CanadaxReader - Hockey
AmericaxReader- "American Trash" based on this song: (and yes it's an English band) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgivUPa-QD0&feature=related
ShizuoxReader story (Durarara)
PrussiaxReader- Reader is sick with head cold
RussiaxReader- its blizzarding out and Russia ends up having to go somewhere. Reader insits on going with despite the weather and Russia protests.
AmericaxReader- has no name yet
That day started just like any other day. It was a Tuesday, and a world meeting at that. Alfred was up to his usual antics, yelling things about him being the "Hero" and such, though, as his assistant, you had to put up with it every day rather than just at the meetings. Sometimes you thought the others were a bit lucky for that. Everyone was fighting as usual too, their yelling echoing ab
Music to meCalming, these captivating melodies,
The rhythm has me swaying,
and pushed keys,
and blown flutes,
The harmony of the orchestra,
In tune to a clear voice.
Transport me to another place,
Away from the troubles,
The worries and stress,
To a place where the sound washes over me.
Relaxing my mind,
Soothing my soul,
A harbinger of peace
In my own little sanctuary of bliss.
For each beat has me moving,
and each verse has me singing
as though it's a trance.
Nothing but the symphony resounding around me,
Just like an addiction,
It has me hooked for life.
Path of lifeLife is a dangerous path
Full of twists and traps
A path we're forced to walk
Without turning back
We may regret the past
We may regret the mistakes
But we must learn from them
And keep moving on
We may predict the future
And even fear it
But we never know
What happens next
The only thing we have
Is the present, here and now
So let's live it
And forget about the rest
The mistakes of the past
The mysteries of the future
All part of life
This path we all walk
wordless they succumbAnd they fell -
just like that.
Just like the act of breathing;
soundless and inevitable.
Like an eager girl slipping
straps from her shoulders,
the soft crush of silk at her feet.
We Have No TimeAll we have
Is a sliver
Everything we will
Do in life
We all die before we know it
Its a fact of life
And I am already dying
A slow painful death
One year at a time
One month at a time
One week at a time
One day at a time
Then we flatline
On a metal sheet
Buried in the dirt
To think we were born yesterday
Only to die tomorrow
Winter's GirlI was winter's girl,
frozen under a thick layer of ice.
People tried to break it with their ice picks, but to no avail.
They eventually left me cold and in pieces in my frozen abyss.
You're thawing me out, slowly but surely.
"Summer girls aren't for me, "you say.
"Too full of sick strawberry sweetness."
That was just said to comfort me, but it oddly worked.
Maybe time with you will make me a summer girl,
no more need for thawing,skating with you above my ice.
to the girl with the razors in her back pocket,stop. turn around. i understand you,
and i understand the sadness
entrenched in your bones. i understand
the late nights spent in anxious prayer
to the towels, to the creaky floorboard
just outside your parents' room, to the sink
that stains too easily. i understand
the catastrophic glances that people throw you
when you open your mouth and try
to belong. i understand the intense moments
spent in dressing rooms splicing together outfits
that will gracefully sweep past tally-marked wrists and ankles
and hopefully make sense in the dead of summer.
i understand the nights that you carve the emptiness
onto the razor and wonder if it wouldn't be better
to just die tonight instead. no one can be angry...
or disappointed...or judgmental...or sympathetic (because
sometimes forced empathy is the worst)...when you
no longer exist. it just stops. and anything
has to be better than this.
well, you're right about one thing. it does
get better. and not in that corny way
people tell you. you won't se
WonderlandWhen I was little, I knew Wonderland.
Logic was faulty and rules were no more.
Up was down; down was up.
That was how it constantly was.
Fish swam in the air and drowned in water.
Worries were small and dreams were big.
One fell up until they reached the clouds,
Which were then used for soft beds and pillows.
Gender was an unnoticed trait.
Everyone was blind.
Everyone could see.
There were no expectations to uphold.
I was happy.
Then I woke up-or fell asleep-
Into a world with war and prejudice and plague.
I wondered then, and I do now…
Was Wonderland not the real world?
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