Imagine the human soul as an orb of glass.
If someone says something, that hurts,
because it's true, the orb gets cracks.
Then a blazing hand arises,
it melts the glass,
it makes the orb whole again.
He says:"It's okay."
SternenkindThe most saddening place on earth
is the area of the graveyard
with the gravestones
that have only
Inside OutThe reason, why some people have difficulties putting their own problems in perspective is this:
There is an inside world and an outside world. The inside world consist entirely of Me and so my problems, or the problems I know of are The Problems.
PollenIf you consider that pollen are released by plants to procreate themselves, is it sufficient to say that people that suffer from hay-fever literally get fucked by nature?
Die Geschichte einer fünfköpfigen Familie.
Der Pioniergeist der Gründerväter.
Der Arbeitswille ihrer Söhne und Töchter.
Das Selbstverständnis ihrer Nachfahren,
Die in der Arroganz der Ur-Enkel mündet.
Und der Fall eines Familien Unternehmens...
Das ist der Daumen,
Der schüttelt die Pflaumen,
Der hebt sie alle auf,
Der trägt sie nach Haus,
Und der kleine isst sie alle auf...
On SuicideI am aware that you might not assosiate me with super serious topics, although I did recently talk about Charlie Hebdo and the events around it.
Usually I just write fantasy and some short stories about other things.
And that's where my dilema starts. As some of you may know the famed fantasy author Sir Terence Pratchett, also known as "Terry Pretchett" died at the relativly young age of 66 years. Pratchett spend his recent years not only writing, but also raising awarness of Alzheimer. The reason for that was that he was diagnosed with Alzheimer some years earlier. You might think now that it was the disease, that killed him. It seems unlikely however, because of "the other thing" he did in his recent years.
Pratchett was, or became, and advocate of giving people the choice to end their lives if the is no other decent way to end their suffering. He wrote a speech which then was given by a friend on his behalf infront of the british Alzheimers-association. In that speech he spoke almos
Hida OsanaIt rained from the high heavens as if the sea itself had been taken and then thrown over the empire. No noise was t be heard except for the rushing of the rain. It was dark, wet and cold and the young women in the inn wondered if she was going ot see any costomers in the near future.
Proberbly not, she thought to herself, not with that thing lurking in the woods.
She looked out the window and listened to the rainfall.
To her great suprise she heard something else too - could it be...?
A large figure steped out of the curtain of the rain and into the inn.
The person shook herself and threw off the dripping wet strawcloak they were wearing.
Underneath was a tall muscular women in ragged clothing with black windswept hair.
She was armed to the teeth, to her right she had a knife, to her right a katana and a wakizashi and on her back the innkeeper saw a second katana, that seemed to be of exeptional craftsmenship.
The innkeeper approached the samurai with great care:"Greetings my Lady. wha
034She loved him with twilight tears
and exasperated sighs.
He loved her with the anger
of an atomic bomb.
There were no survivors.
Inside Out"I think I wear my soul inside out."
"My soul. It's inside out."
"That's a strange thing to say."
"I have all the symptoms though."
"And what are the symptoms of this disea-"
"It's not a disease."
"All right. What are the symptoms, then?"
"I care too much about all the wrong things, I worry about odd things, my heart breaks too easily and my brain feels a little too asymmetrical to the things that are supposed to be fun."
"You know parties and alcohol and normal things. Like that."
"Nothing. What do you care too much about?"
"Everything. Global warming. The whales. Aliens. Israel. Sarajevo. The Ozone-"
"I get it. Everything that counts and you can do nothing about by yourself."
"You sound cynical."
"You sound paranoid."
"It's just honest. What worries you?"
"The fact that you are too self involved to notice."
"If I disappear."
"You idiot. Ofcourse I will notice if you disappear. I'd not
Sex Scene TipsTrigger warning: rape.
Okay, here's the thing: if you're writing a sex scene and you want it to come off as sexy and nice and all of that, YOUR CHARACTERS NEED TO HAVE CONSENT. You know what sex without consent is called? Rape.
I am absolutely enraged right now. It's 2015 and people are writing fics where the tone conveys that this scene is supposed to be hot and sexy and cool but there's NO CONSENT AT ALL. "But Amaranth!" you ask me. "This one character isn't saying 'no,' it can't be rape, right?" Yes, I'll give you that rape is sex without consent so saying 'no' does qualify as rape, these other scenarios also count as rape:
1. Sex while one partner is asleep.
2. Sex while one partner is passed out.
3. Sex while one partner is under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol, or has their judgement impaired in some other way.
4. Sex while one partner has made it clear they're not interested in sex, whether through body language or vocally.
I understand sex can
Oh Alejandro...// I am pretending that on TDWT Alejandro, was sent home, and he confessed his love for her before he left//
Oh Alejandro, I miss you so much... Why did you have to get voted off, leaving me all alone on this stupid show...
"And Alejandro takes the Drop of Shame." With the a smirk on Chris's lips
"Adios. I guess. Hey Owen can you..." the last part was barely audible to anyone, except for the boy with the blonde hair.
"Okay Al I will." Alejandro's eye twitched a little but let it slide, because Owen was doing a favor for him.
And with that final thought, Alejandro took a graceful jump from the hazardous plane. Just like that he was gone from the plane, and gone from the game.
*end of Flash back*
Looking at the rose he left me, tears streaked down my cheeks. Oh Alejandro. A single rose with sharp thorns and velvet red petals was all I had to remember him, and it would die in a week or less.
"Hey Heather?" slowly turning around I saw it was Ow
end of summer love letterWhen I explore your body, I get lost in a library of time stored on shelves- 16 hour bus rides, 9 years worth of longing. Longing for your touch like a tea pot tipping, waiting for the water to land. A cup of coffee sat on a counter getting cold, our story put on hold, brought back to life years later. We’ve blown off the dust, and the story has matured. In a field your freckles are stars in the sky, tiny city lights that can only be seen from the top of a hill. Since August 2006, an apple seed has become an orchard.
On my skin you drew rivers and roads with your fingers. You found the route to my heart and made a nest, reminding me that life is very fragile, that we are just birds looking for a home. Nine years makes us as vast as the ocean, yet we are as intricate as the little lines on a map, branches in a forest, veins in a finger. Your touch is hot coffee mixing in with the cream.
I’ve felt you pull my hips to yours, and I have felt you deep inside me, but I have also
Dan's Confessionals Phil glanced once more at the small scrawl "I wish he felt the same way..." before flipping to page one of the journal. What greeted him, made him gasp in surprise.
I'll admit it. For the first time ever, I've realized my true feelings. Phil Lester is my first and only love. Yeah, sure, he's my best friend, and he probably doesn't feel the same way as I do, but I can't help it. Maybe, someday, my feelings will be realized?
Still in love with him. All these videos we do together don't help much... He always looks so cute in them. His jet black hair, the way he puts his hand over his mouth when he laughs that adorable laugh of his. ♥
My thoughts are becoming way too much. I can't help but think of him every second of the day, whether we're together or not. He could be sitting right next to me while we play Sonic together, completely oblivious to the eff
Merome, Winter Night.~Mitch's P.O.V.~
I walk through the forest, with Betty hanging on my back,. Its snowing... Again. Living in the winter biome has beautiful views, but besides that it sucks. My cloths and shoes are wet from the snow and my my nose is frozen. I check my inventory to make sure I have all the wood and I do. The sun starts to set in the horizon and I pick up my pace. Once I get to my house monsters start spawning so I quickly unlock the door and get pulled in, with the door slams behind me.
I feel fluffy arms wrap around my chest, I relaxed realizing who it was. Jerome.
"Where were you?!" He asked sounding relived I was home.
"I was just collecting some wood, we were running low," I feel my face get warm when I realized he was still holding onto me. When he let go he took Betty off my back and set it on the counter, "here" he said throwing my pajamas at me, " get out of those cloths, there soaking wet, after that we can watch some TV." I nod and head for my room. I strip down and throw my c
Eternal LoveSeason's may change,
From winter, to spring,
To summer and fall again
Leaves will decay,
And flowers will wilt away.
But I will love you
Until my dying day.
The Galaxy Sings in B FlatThe galaxy sings in B flat.
Fifty-seven octaves below middle C, hundreds of thousands of tiny stars with little worlds trailing atmospheres in elliptical orbits. Double-star systems, triple-star, more; planets, civilisations, dark matter, tangible matter, all circling, swarming, humming together in one enormous note, not bumping together but carrying a wave from the centre of their island universe, expanding out into space
Sound cannot exist in a vacuum. This is a widely known fact. And space is a vacuum, sure. But only when you look at it from here, from our tiny little world. Close your eyes, zoom out, and look at the celestial spheres from their view; and space isn't so thin after all. Close your eyes, zoom in, and even our dense atmosphere is just atoms in a vacuum of their own. Sound as we know it, sure, that doesn't exist outside our little stardust orb. It's too small, too fragil